CHEMOMMY
chemotherapy mother
Submitted 3 weeks ago by andros_rex@lemmy.world to [deleted]
https://lemmy.world/pictrs/image/70a2ec09-0fbb-4d10-80fb-c4706d4547f0.jpeg
Comments
Iheartcheese@lemmy.world 3 weeks ago
SpaceNoodle@lemmy.world 2 weeks ago
Found a new nickname for my wife
IWW4@lemmy.zip 3 weeks ago
WTF…
Kernal64@sh.itjust.works 3 weeks ago
What a terrible day to know how to read.
adhd_traco@piefed.social 3 weeks ago
I barely understand any of it, but that makes it even more beautiful.
wizzor@sopuli.xyz 2 weeks ago
I don’t understand what is happening.
hungryphrog@lemmy.blahaj.zone 2 weeks ago
I’m not sure the writer does either.
silver@das-eck.haus 3 weeks ago
Craziest theragun ad placement I’ve ever seen
Salamanderwizard@lemmy.world 3 weeks ago
Shakespeare wishes he could write a master piece like this.
Janx@piefed.social 2 weeks ago
My first question is what’s a Theragun? My other questions are about everything else that’s happening…
JayDee@lemmy.sdf.org 2 weeks ago
It’s a muscle massager. It vibrates violently to
Janx@piefed.social 2 weeks ago
To… what? Oh no, I think the Theragun got them!
Doomsider@lemmy.world 2 weeks ago
You would have to be a masochist to use a Theragun on your ladybird.
slothrop@lemmy.ca 2 weeks ago
I don’t think psilocybin would remediate this.
lmmarsano@lemmynsfw.com 2 weeks ago
Needs accessibility: image of pure text for no legitimate reason.
Images of text break much that text alternatives do not. Losses due to image of text lacking alternative: - usability - we can’t quote the text without pointless bullshit like retyping it or OCR - text search is unavailable - the system can’t - reflow text to varied screen sizes - vary presentation (size, contrast) - vary modality (audio, braille) - accessibility - lacks semantic structure (tags for titles, heading levels, sections, paragraphs, lists, emphasis, code, links, accessibility features, etc) - some users can’t read this due to lack of alt text - users can’t adapt the text for dyslexia or vision impairments - systems can’t read the text to them or send it to braille devices - searchability: the “text” isn’t indexable by search engine in a meaningful way - fault tolerance: no text fallback if - image breaks - image host is geoblocked due to insane regulations. Contrary to age & humble appearance, text is an advanced technology that provides all these capabilities absent from images.
ulterno@programming.dev 2 weeks ago
Also, images require a hundreds of thousands of characters even when they are not conveying a thousand words.
And all of those require energy to be sent to places, unlike what some rando on the internet once said.
FartsWithAnAccent@fedia.io 3 weeks ago
Literary warcrime, please tell the Hague.
tgirlschierke@lemmy.blahaj.zone 2 weeks ago
i’ve seen this screenshot before. the moment i read “ballet injuries”, i braced myself
I_Has_A_Hat@lemmy.world 2 weeks ago
This reads like a The Other End comic.
andros_rex@lemmy.world 2 weeks ago
“I think you’ve healed my ballet injuries enough for one day,” Maddie giggled, smirking. “But I do have one teeny-weeny wittle wound that could use a pounding from your Theragun,” she teased.
As their lips were about to meet, the physical therapy office door slammed open. There stood Maddie’s father, looking furious. “What the hell is this?”
“Dad, it’s not what it looks like,” Maddie stammered, her cheeks burning as bright pink as her tutu.
James stood protectively in front of Maddie, his posture tense. “We were just-”
“I know what you are…” Mr. Stevens hissed. He slammed James against the Stairmaster "Balleraggot”
James hadn’t heard that word in years. He was brought right back to PT academy, to the hate he had faced simply because of who he couldn’t help but love. As his head hit the top step of the Stairmaster, he heard all the other familiar slurs, too: nutcracker, chasse chaser, plié-wad, and even tutu-fucker. He collapsed to the ground.
“And you…” He turned to his daughter, who’d broken into tears.
"Don’t think for one fucking second that we didn’t know. That’s right, your mother knew, may she rest in peace. All those years at performing arts high school… any normal daughter would’ve healed from the occasional sprain. Imagine the shame you brought onto your chemotherapy mother when she had to explain to the Rotary Club why her daughter spent her entire senior year in PT. Throwing herself at every new physical therapist. Imagine the tears in your chemommy’s eyes when we heard you in your bedroom, firing, up your Theragun for the fifth time on one of her last nights with us.”
"Leave your daughter alone, " James bellowed, tears streaming down his face as he slowly stood up.
“She’s hardly my daughter now,” Mr. Simmons laughed derisively.
"Make me.”
“Oh, I will.” James cocked his Theragun.
Sergio@piefed.social 2 weeks ago
This puts me in mind of Bizzaro Fiction .
boonhet@sopuli.xyz 3 weeks ago
What the actual fuck is this, please tell me this wasn’t written by a sentient being?