LanyrdSkynrd
joined 2 years ago
I've always just told people when I feel that early "puppy love", which usually is a bit of a shock to them. I hate that term because it implies it's not real love, but I do recognize that it's different from the feeling of love that comes later, when you're more clear headed about the future of your relationship.
As to fears about scaring them off by saying it to early, it's a reasonable fear. People can be scared of commitment, and if they feel like things are moving too fast they could pull away. I think the right way to handle it is to feel them out by telling them romantic things that aren't a blunt, "I love you", and see how they react. Move it forward at a pace they seem comfortable with.
There wasn't much in the way of innovation in Uber/Lyft. Private Taxi companies and the regulated cab commissions were able to get competing apps going pretty quick. They just couldn't compete because they had to charge some kind of fee to the Taxi operators, while Uber was giving users a huge discount.
The venture capital firms knew from the beginning that Uber wasn't about technology or innovation, it was about being the next tech monopolist.
Get in between businesses and customers in an industry that's going through a technological change. Subsidize to the benefit of the businesses and the customers to prevent competition. Grow until you have monopoly power. Increase the costs to the users, then increase the costs to the businesses. Next step is usually offering to sell the customers to the businesses(usually by selling ads), but I could see it being some kind of Uber driver gold subscription or something that gives you priority in the app.
You can pretty easily pirate most popular Android games. The site with the most games/apps and no sketchy adware stuff is 4pda, a russian language web forum.
TFW:
I'll second getting a camcorder for the best value. They're good for this because they focus on having a big optical zoom and OIS over the sensor quality, and they're pretty compact and durable.
You can find them in stores with 20x optical zoom and OIS in the $600+ range, or less if you have time to wait for shipping.
A DSLR is a better value if you want to use it for other stuff in the future, though.
The dentist knew my partner didn't have insurance when they got the estimate. My partner said something about needing my help to pay for it and the dentist offered to do a free consult with the both of us, so I'm going to at least try to get a discount.
The right move would be to break them up. Separate all the business units that collude to abuse their monopoly power.
Knowing the recent history of US anti-trust, it'll drag on for years and the government will settle for a money judgement and an agreement to stop doing things that they don't need to do anymore.
Anyone here ever negotiated with a dentist? Any tips?
My partner just got $10k estimate to fix their teeth. I've heard dentists don't get their full rate from insurance and have to go through a ton of hassle to get paid. I feel like I could offer upfront payment and get a discount. I don't know if I should just say, "How about $7k cash?" like I was talking to a used car salesman.
I know we could get it cheaper at a dental school or by shopping around, but my partner has serious dental fear and trusts this dentist.
It sucks that I'll have to drain most of my savings, but my partner has been in pain from various tooth problems for years and this will take care of everything. You know your dental situation is fucked when your excited to get 2/3 of your teeth pulled and replaced with dentures.
latine
Is it pronouced lah-teen or lah-tee-ney? I've never heard anyone say it
My mom was briefly dragged into right wing conspiracy shit because of a new age lyme disease support group she was a part of. It started with harmless woo-y treatment stuff, went to "Lyme disease is a bioweapon that slipped from the lab" and started going in the direction of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Fuckin wild because my mom was always a typical 1970's lib, called herself a hippie, and went to BLM protests.
I can't stop thinking about this story I read on a hiking blog:
spoiler CW: brief mention of suicide
A feeling of peace washed over me as soon as my boots hit the dirt. At the base of Mt. Washington’s Jewell Trail, the October sun felt warm on my bare arms. But having grown up exploring New Hampshire’s White Mountains, I knew the conditions up high would be nothing like in the valley. In preparation for a late-season ascent of the 6,288-foot peak known as “home of the world’s worst weather,” I’d loaded my pack with extra layers and a pair of snow goggles.I’d been volunteering with the Pemigewasset Valley Search and Rescue Team for five years, and these mountains were both my playground and my office. I was heading out to train with a heavy pack, and to enjoy a few hours in my favorite area.
Mt. Washington, with its unpredictable climate, has claimed over 150 lives over the past 150 years, making it one of the deadliest mountains in the country. I felt strong that day, but could see thick clouds shrouding the top half of the peak. At 5,000 feet, about 3 miles in, the wind began to pick up around me. I stopped to add a layer.
Snow was blowing in my face as I continued upward, but I could follow this trail with my eyes closed. Above treeline, gusts raged and the temperature dropped. I told myself if the weather worsened further I’d turn back; returning to my car was more important than making the summit.
Around 5,500 feet, I reached the junction with the Gulfside Trail. That’s when I noticed fresh footprints in the snow that sent shivers up my spine.
It was clear that these tracks hadn’t been made by sturdy hiking boots, but by sneakers. Street shoes in this weather? I knew someone was in trouble.
I turned to follow the prints. A few steps later I saw him—a man slumped on the ground with his back against a boulder. A layer of snow covered his clothing. I called out and was answered only by silence.
Crouching beside the man, I looked at his thin jacket, T-shirt, and soaked pants. How could someone hike up here so unprepared? He was breathing, but his skin looked like porcelain and he wore a vacant expression. This was bad.
I grabbed my extra layers and changed the man out of his wet clothes. Then, I tucked hand warmers inside his shirt and fed him from my thermos of hot chocolate. He sat passive and slack, hardly acknowledging my presence. It felt strange to treat a patient without knowing his name, so I decided to call him John.
The wind was picking up, creating a swirl of blowing snow behind the boulder where we’d taken shelter. We needed to get moving. John had revived somewhat and could walk behind me on the hardpack. My tracks from the way up had disappeared, but I could just make out the depressions from my trekking poles, and I followed them like breadcrumbs.
We descended slowly. The footing was slippery and laden with precarious boulders; I worried about John’s flat sneakers. I sang ‘60s hits to remind him that I was there and to keep my own morale up. Periodically I’d ask a question, but at most John would only grunt. I couldn’t understand why he’d ventured up high on a day like today, dressed as he was. Once, he sat down in the snow, appearing to give up. “We’re in this together,” I scolded him.
After six hours of descending we reached the parking lot. It was dark, and later than I’d planned to be home. I warmed John’s clothes on my car’s heater, traded them for the layers I’d lent him and then, with hardly a word, he drove off. Bewildered, I stood in the parking lot, glancing back at the howling mountains. What had just happened?
At home, I wrote an email to my SAR teammates recounting the rescue. We debriefed, examining our protocols and speculating about the events that could have led John into such distress, but there were still so many questions. Answers wouldn’t come for a few days when a letter arrived at the SAR headquarters.
“I hope this reaches the right group of rescuers,” it read. “I was called John. On Sunday, October 17th I went up my favorite trail, Jewell, to end my life. Weather was to be bad.” I paused and started again. It took a few tries to get through the whole letter.
“Next thing I knew this lady was talking to me,” he wrote. “I said to leave me and get going but she wouldn’t.” He had considered running off but thought I might follow and didn’t want to harm anyone else.
“With all that has been going wrong in my life, I didn’t matter to me. But I did to Pam.” Inside he had tucked a small donation. “If she’s an example of your organization and professionalism, you must be the best group around . . . I have a new direction thanks to wonderful people like yourselves.” The letter was signed “John.”
I never found out exactly who I helped that day. But I like to think he is out there somewhere, enjoying his second chance.