showerthoughts

As the title suggests, trying to find anything in someone else’s kitchen is almost always a frustrating experience. Everyone seems to have a different idea about where to put things.

I continuously grapple with this intricate web of thought that intertwines infinity, atomic structure, and consciousness. It’s predicated on the assumption that if time truly is infinite, then there isn’t just a probability, but an inevitability, that all the matter in the universe will align exactly as they are now....

Just a month to celebrate relaxation and not obsessing over the grind. Festivals where people just bring camping chairs and chill together. Companies pandering by giving paid extra time off to employees. And so on.

The Earth is round to keep you from walking out of the simulator. If it was flat, there’d be a door or something.

I wonder if the charging port on mobile devices will go the way of the 3.5mm jack and be replaced with Qi and other wireless charging protocols. I also wonder if we will be forced into Bluetooth for all extension devices we used to connect to usb-c.

One way groups can be classified is the naturality of forming the group....

Kind of like defragging a hard drive, but instead it realigns all your molecules into a perfect sequence so all disease and defects are instantly eradicated.

Maybe this is a thing and I’ve been buying cheap rain jackets....

I know there is usually a “target demographic” that is profiled for what kind of products that they may buy. I was listening to an electro swing mix online and I kept hearing ads for different kinds of soaps, and all I could think of is “damn, a lot of people must clean while listening to this.

Was thinking about an isekai where a mime mimes getting hit by a bus and gets transported to another world but just keeps on miming

Those bricks take time.

I was just thinking that you could loosely look at each day being the four seasons. Morning is spring, afternoon is summer, evening is fall, and night is winter....

Side note: It’s also called Parizer in reference to Paris, the city that is neither Bologna, nor Lyon, another french city which would be the actual origin of the sausage.

A different thing are conversation back and forths: each comment is in a new branch of the comment tree.

I should go see if it actually posted.