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Joined January 2018
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We had a group chat with six girls from college
One of them started venting about her boss and how toxic the office was
I replied with some advice
Nothing crazy
Just “document everything and don’t engage”
Later that night she screenshot only my message
Sent it to her boss
Told him I was talking shit about the company and stirring drama
Bobola retweeted
My father left when I was 9 and moved to Alberta for "oil work." For 28 years, I got almost nothing from him.
Now I'm 37, and his daughter, a half-sister I've never met, is asking me to take care of him.
Her message just said:
"Hi Claire. I'm Megan, your sister. Dad had a stroke. Could you help me with him?"
My dad missed my high school graduation, my college graduation, and my wedding.
Every few years, a card showed up with a $20 bill and a "Thinking of you, kiddo."
My mom raised me alone, working two jobs at a grocery store in Ontario.
I stared at my phone and typed back:
"Where was he when I was 9 and needed a dad?"
Megan didn't reply for two days.
Bobola retweeted
i'm a high school custodian, and my one rule is that i never open a locker that isn't on the work order. thirty years, same ring of keys, same squeaky cart. last tuesday at 6:45am, a girl in a band jacket stopped me outside the music wing and said, "please open locker 212. i know it's not on your list. it's mine, but i forgot the combination, and my clarinet is inside."...
Bobola retweeted
I never believed in the old Icelandic stories my grandmother told me.
To me, Grýla was just a regional boogeyman a giantess used by parents to scare kids into eating their vegetables and finishing their chores.
I was twenty-four, a pragmatic American grad student spending the winter in a remote cabin in the Westfjords to finish my thesis.
I didn’t have time for fairy tales.
I should have listened.
It was December 23rd—*Þorláksmessa*.
A brutal blizzard had knocked out the power three hours prior, plunging the cabin into pitch blackness save for the dying orange glow of the fireplace.
The wind outside didn't just blow; it screamed, violently rattling the thick glass panes.
That was when I heard the sound that made my chest tighten.
It wasn't the wind.
It was a rhythmic, heavy *scrape-thud, scrape-thud* echoing from the roof directly above my head.
It sounded like something incredibly heavy dragging a blunt tool—or a massive, overgrown claw—across the corrugated tin.
I froze in my armchair, my breath catching in my throat.
An animal, I reasoned, desperately trying to quiet the instinctual panic flooding my veins.
*Just a stray sheep or a disoriented reindeer.*
Then, the smell hit me.
It drifted down through the chimney and the floor vents.
It was a suffocating, sickening stench of wet dog, sulfur, and rotting, unwashed meat.
It was the smell of a predator’s den.
A massive, wet *sniff* rattled the window frames.
Whatever was on the roof had migrated to the side of the cabin.
I slid out of my chair and dropped to my hands and knees, ignoring the freezing chill of the hardwood floor.
I crawled toward the kitchen counter, desperate to get out of the line of sight of the large living room windows.
*“Ekki hljóð,”* a voice rasped from just outside the kitchen wall.
Bobola retweeted
8年間、無償で手伝ってきた秋祭り。ようやく行列の先導役に選ばれたのに、開催2日前、夫から「生理中の女は穢れているから参加するな」と言われた。しかも親戚全員の前で。私は泣きながら辞退を考えた。でも翌日、その決まりが存在しないことを知った。
私は35歳。長野県で夫の俊介と暮らしている。
夫の実家は代々、地元の秋祭りの運営に関わっている。私も結婚してから8年間、提灯の準備、料理の手配、会場の片付けまで毎年手伝ってきた。
今年、初めて実行委員会から灯籠行列の先導役を任された。本当に嬉しかった。
ところが祭りの2日前、生理が始まった。
夫に伝えると突然怒り出した。
「生理中の女は神聖な行事に参加できない。昔からの決まりだろ」
私は初耳だった。
その夜、夫は親戚の前で「こいつ、生理中なのに行列に出ようとしてるんだよ。穢れている時は遠慮するのが常識だろ」と言った。
私は恥ずかしくて泣いた。誰もかばってくれなかった。
翌朝、実行委員長から電話があった。
「ご主人から辞退すると聞きました。代わりに文乃さんが出るそうですが、本当ですか？」
文乃は夫の妹だ。
驚いて「生理中は参加できない決まりがあるんですよね？」と聞くと、委員長は言った。
「そんな決まり、うちの祭りにはありませんよ」
Bobola retweeted
For years, Eva Longoria and Tony Parker looked like one of those celebrity couples people assumed would last.
She was one of television's biggest stars, known around the world for Desperate Housewives. He was an NBA champion and one of the most recognizable players in basketball. They had fallen in love, married in a lavish ceremony in France in 2007, and appeared to be building the kind of life that came with everything they had both worked for.
Then Eva Longoria looked at Tony Parker's phone.
What she reportedly found wasn't just one suspicious message.
---
Bobola retweeted
The electric bill for January was $412, and I almost threw up in the lobby of our apartment building.
It had been $138 the January before. Same two-bedroom apartment, same thermostat, same two people splitting the $1,900 rent.
My roommate Brielle and I had always been fine. The utilities were in my name because I'd signed up first, so I paid the bills and she Venmo'd me her half. We left each other sticky notes, shared groceries, and had never had a serious fight.
Then her boyfriend Tyler started spending almost every night at our apartment.
His shoes stayed by the door. His protein powder took over half the pantry. His truck was in our parking spot when I left for work and when I came home. His toothbrush had been in the cup by the sink for three weeks.
One Saturday, I walked into the kitchen and found him making eggs in his boxers like he owned the place.
I didn't care that he visited. I cared that our electricity bill had tripled.
"Hey, Bri, do you think we could adjust the utilities a little? Tyler's here pretty often now."
She didn't even look up from her phone.
"He's a guest. The lease literally allows guests."
"He's here almost every night."
"He's visiting." She gave me a tight smile. "Please don't make this weird."
I let it go for another week.
Then, one Thursday night, I opened Venmo to pay my phone bill and noticed Brielle's transactions were public.
The first payment I saw was from Tyler.
$600. rent 💕
I stared at it.
Then I scrolled up.
Another $600. rent 💕
Another one the month before that.
I kept scrolling until I reached the previous October.
Fourteen payments. One every month. Not a single one missing.
I opened my calculator.
$600 × 14 = $8,400.
For fourteen months, Tyler had been paying Brielle $600 a month to live in our apartment.
And she'd let me believe he was just a guest while I paid half the bills for both of them…..
Bobola retweeted
They sent a SWAT team to hunt him down. He escaped through a swamp, came face-to-face with a crocodile, and STILL wasn’t finished fighting.🔥
Bobola retweeted
i organized our ten-year reunion, and the one question on the sign-up form was "what were you secretly scared of in high school?"
it was anonymous. i figured people would write things like "algebra" or "the prom." 118 classmates answered, and i planned to read a few out loud at dinner as a joke.
when i sorted the responses on friday night, one answer showed up 61 times, spelled the same way every time.
at the reunion, i stood at the mic, said "okay, the most common answer was..." and read it out.
"brandon pike."
the room went completely silent. a fork dropped somewhere. then, from the back table, a very tall man in a Little League windbreaker slowly stood up.
Bobola retweeted
My family spent my entire childhood assuming I’d grow up, marry a woman, have kids and give my mom the perfect little family story.
Nobody ever asked me what I wanted. They just assumed.
So when I finally told them I was gay, the room went completely quiet.
My dad stared at me for what felt like five minutes before saying, “But you’re the one all the girls at school liked.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently, being chased by girls was supposed to be evidence of something.
I just never had the heart to tell them that I was paying attention to someone else entirely. 😭
Bobola retweeted
The first time I realized my grandmother had been lying to me for years was when a stranger called me by a name I’d never heard before.
I was at a coffee shop when an older woman walked up to my table.
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then she whispered:
“Rebecca?”
I told her she had the wrong person.
She shook her head.
“No. I know that face.”
Then she asked me where my grandmother was.
My grandmother had been dead for two years.
I told her.
The woman’s expression changed immediately.
“She never told you?”
“Told me what?”
She sat down across from me.
Then she pulled an old photograph from her purse.
It showed my grandmother standing beside three women.
One of them was the woman sitting in front of me.
The other two were strangers.
And in the middle of them was a little girl.
Me.
Except I had never seen the photograph before.
The woman pointed at it.
“You were six.”
I stared at the picture.
“I’ve never met you.”
She smiled sadly.
“You don’t remember me because your grandmother made sure you wouldn’t.”
Then she slid another photograph across the table.
This one showed me standing outside a hospital.
Beside me was a woman I’d never seen before.
On the back, someone had written:
“She was supposed to take Rebecca that day.”
I looked up.
“Take me where?”
The woman reached into her purse again.
This time she pulled out a key.
“Your grandmother’s house.”
I told her the house had already been sold.
She shook her head.
“No.”
“She never sold it.”
“She gave it to someone.”
Then she whispered:
“And that person has been waiting for you.”
Bobola retweeted
J'ai accepté de prêter ma voiture de collection à mon cousin pendant un mois pour son trajet domicile-travail, le temps qu'il fasse réparer la sienne après un accrochage.
Il jurait d'en prendre soin comme de la prunelle de ses yeux et s'engageait à me rembourser la différence d'assurance.
Deux semaines plus tard, un ami m'a envoyé une vidéo enregistrée sur un circuit automobile privé le dimanche précédent.
Sur les images, on voyait mon véhicule poussé à bout de souffle dans des dérapages violents, la carrosserie couverte d'autocollants de sponsors amateurs.
Mon cousin ne l'utilisait pas pour aller au travail : il l'avait inscrite à des sessions de drift payantes le week-end, faisant payer des passagers à 100 euros la course pour se faire de l'argent de poche, tout en matraquant le moteur et en usant mes pneus sur la piste.
Bobola retweeted
I Remembered How A Stranger Licked My Pussy Until I Could Barely Stand In The Garage.
I was putting bags in the trunk when he walked up. Underground garage, late evening, almost empty. He didn’t say much. Just looked at me, then nodded toward the darker corner past the pillar. I don’t know why I followed. Maybe because no one else was around. Maybe because I’d been thinking about getting touched all day.
He had me lean forward against the trunk, hands on the car. He squatted down behind me, pushed my skirt up over my hips, and pulled my panties to the side. I was already wet. He pressed his tongue straight onto me flat, hot, right against my pussy and licked once, slow, from my entrance up to my clit. I gasped and my knees almost gave.
Bobola retweeted
WIFE: Your Honor, before you give my husband custody of our children, I need to ask him one question in front of this entire courtroom.
JUDGE: Mrs. Mitchell, this is a custody hearing, not a public argument. Ask your question, and make it relevant to the case.
WIFE: Mr. Mitchell, when our daughter was in the emergency room, crying and asking for her father, where were you?
HUSBAND: I was working. I’ve already explained that.
WIFE: Working? Is that what you call spending the night in a hotel with your mistress?
HUSBAND: Watch your mouth, Sarah.
JUDGE: Mr. Mitchell, you will not speak to your wife that way in my courtroom. Continue, Mrs. Mitchell.
WIFE: Your Honor, my husband filed for full custody three weeks after I discovered his affair. He told the court I was emotionally unstable, financially irresponsible, and incapable of raising our two children.
JUDGE: Mr. Mitchell, are those allegations true?
HUSBAND: Yes, Your Honor. My wife has been acting irrationally since I told her I wanted a divorce. I earn enough to provide a better life for the children. She can barely afford the mortgage.
WIFE: Tell the judge why I can barely afford the mortgage.
HUSBAND: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
WIFE: Because you stopped paying into our joint account, emptied our savings, and transferred $86,000 to a woman you claimed was your business partner!
HUSBAND: That money was mine. I earned it.
JUDGE: Was the money held in a joint account?
WIFE: Yes, Your Honor. And I have the bank statements.
JUDGE: The court will review them. Mr. Mitchell, do you have an explanation?
HUSBAND: My wife is making this sound like theft. I was protecting my assets before the divorce.
WIFE: Protecting your assets? You also canceled our daughter’s health insurance without telling me. She has asthma. What was I supposed to do when she couldn’t breathe?
HUSBAND: I never told you not to take her to the hospital.
WIFE: You told me to stop wasting money on medical bills because she was exaggerating her symptoms!
JUDGE: Mr. Mitchell, did you say that?
HUSBAND: I was frustrated. I didn’t mean it the way she’s presenting it.
JUDGE: Frustration does not excuse neglecting a child’s medical needs.
HUSBAND: Your Honor, with all due respect, I am the one who has been paying for that house for ten years. I bought my wife everything she has. She should be grateful instead of trying to destroy me because I fell in love with someone else.
WIFE: Fell in love?
HUSBAND: Yes. I fell in love with another woman. That doesn’t make me a bad father.
WIFE: No, it doesn’t. But tell the judge what you told our eight-year-old son when he asked why you were leaving.
HUSBAND: I’m not answering another ridiculous question.
JUDGE: You will answer if it is relevant to custody.
WIFE: He told our son, “Your mother ruined this marriage, and if you love me, you’ll tell the judge you want to live with me.”
Bobola retweeted
And can we PLEASE talk about the stereotypes within the gay community itself?
If you're feminine, people assume you're weak, dramatic, or automatically submissive. If you're masculine, people question whether you're really gay or accuse you of being DL.
If you're overweight, you're suddenly somebody's fetish or nobody's preference. If you're short, some men treat you like a child. If you're not muscular, wealthy, or conventionally attractive, dating can feel like applying for a job you were never qualified for.
Then we turn around and wonder why so many gay men struggle with self-esteem.
We're fighting a society that judges us for being gay, and sometimes we're judging each other for not being the right kind of gay.
How are we supposed to find peace when we can't even escape the same judgment in our own community?
I'm tired of people acting like being gay is easy just because we can laugh about it online. Some of you genuinely have no idea what gay men deal with every single day.
Imagine being a grown man who has to calculate how he walks, talks, dresses, laughs, and even sits because he's scared somebody might suspect he's gay.
Imagine having to pretend you find women attractive just so your friends won't start asking questions.
And the most exhausting part? Even when you finally accept yourself, the world still makes you feel like you need to apologize for existing.
Bobola retweeted
We went out for a girls’ night, had too many drinks, got a hotel room… and ended up in the best, filthiest threesome of my life. I still can’t tell my husband a single word of it.
It was supposed to be harmless dinner, dancing, laughing too loud. By midnight we were drunk and already touching in the elevator. Inside the room one of them kissed me first, deep and hungry. The other watched for only a second before joining. Clothes came off in a messy, desperate tangle. No one suggested stopping. We fell onto the big bed already wet.
