I'm moving to a bigger city for the first time in my life soon. Hoping to work in a nice restaurant with high standards and creative food so that I can learn more, improve my skills, and be a part of something stellar. However, I'm afraid that at 28yo, maybe I have too much experience in "the wrong places." I've quit a couple of fine dining job opportunities that I've had because of rampant food safety issues, inconsistency, and poor leadership. Other than that I've only worked so-so stuff, baking, managing a food truck, and some restaurants and catering gigs.
I've heard that if you're not in the club (ie culinary school graduate or already have yourself established in fine dining), then you have little chance of getting in.
What do I need to do? Specifically in Seattle if you know. I'd like answers from folks who actually know, not people that want to tell me that fine dining isn't worth it. I want the experience. Thanks.

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The floor of the cell is covered in decades of mildew and dust. This disgusting carpet does nothing to dull the pain as I skip across it, thrown in by someone with the intention of making a point.
My Name’s Mike, and if any of you are the types to go on a deep dive, you probably know A little about me already.
For those of you that don’t, Jesus I don’t know exactly where to begin.
The Cliff’s notes would be that I spent a little over a decade either being a serial killer or a vigilante. I won’t try to justify my actions, both of those are just sides of the same shitty coin. I’m not a person to be idolized or emulated, so I choose not to plead my case.
Now, while I thought that was just about as screwed up as life could get, one day, out of the blue, after burying my best, fuck, my only friend I found myself, somewhere else. A world that looked and felt like mine, but one where the things that go bump in the night actually existed.
Where I came from, I’d seen monsters, to be sure, but only the kind that happen when people break.
Since I’ve been here? Got caught up in some demented gameshow for demons or something, threw a massive shit in the punch bowl of the thing running the production, and got the world’s unluckiest man his freedom.
And that leads me to my current situation, staring down the rage filled, mildly bruised face of that asshole, that fucking, demonic Ted Turner, Art.
He runs a hand aggressively through his slicked back hair, standing at the door to my cell.
“Looks like your little plan didn’t work, exactly as I predicted, you fuck.
I mean, great try with the little cat thing you had, honestly didn’t see that coming. But, Jesus, Mike, what was your end game? “ Art gloats.
“Cards on the table? It was a lot better, but shit fell through, that whiskey abomination, it was the one that ratted me out I assume?
That being said, still got Kev out. And you can’t really ‘flip off his lightswitch’ if he didn’t let you screw around with his wiring, can you? “ I grin, I keep it, even as a Gucci shoe slams into my face.
Am I scared? Of God damn course I am, I’ve been pissing myself (metaphorically speaking.) since I realised that the rules of reality don’t really apply any more.
Every new grain of sand on the beach of hell my life has become, tosses me further down the road of mental failure. Shit, that’s half of what fucked up my last plan in the first place.
If I could have just kept my shit together long enough, I’d be sipping a beer with Kev in some shit hole town somewhere. But the only thing harder than trying to stamp down fear in the face of God’s and monsters, is trying to do it while projecting some kind of ‘death fears me ‘ persona.
Between you and I? Death doesn’t fear me, in fact, it seems to love to hang around. And every day I have to stare down that grim spectre, the closer I get to losing the tenuous grip on reality I have .
“Oh, fuck Kev. He’s smart enough to stay off my radar, and too stupid to figure out a way to come back at me.
He's got a 1 bedroom in Idaho or something? Salud, good on him.
You, I had high hopes for, and then you decide to wipe your ass all over my carpet, cost me more than I could even explain, and even, get me a little roughed up. My favorite shell, anyway.
I want to recoup some loses Mike. So, you, get to be a part of another one of my projects.
You thought The Path was bad? Oh, you literal, fucking clown, you haven’t seen anything.
I won’t spoil it for you, the devil’s in the details and all, but you know what everyone loves?
Prison.
Not being in it themselves, of course, but seeing others, especially those they hate in there.
This place isn’t fair, the path was a boxing match with Queensbury rules, this is a handcuffed knife fight.
And I can’t wait to see you figure out, all the little surprises it has in store for you. “ Art laughs and tosses me a battered, ancient looking smartphone, “ Feel free to drum me up some good press online if you want. “
My heart is pounding, I have to use every bit of will I have to stop from shaking, to roll my neck and sit against the cold, padless cement bed behind me.
I feel sick, my stomach boiling and gurgling.
“For the love of whatever the demonic equivalent of Christ is, why not just kill me? I’m right here, I have no way of fighting back, and you know damn well that if you give me enough time, I’m going to find a way to wipe my ass on your doorframe next. “ My tone is flippant, or at least, I hope it is.
“The ego on you kid, you think you’re that guy don’t you?
They exist, don’t get me wrong, probably a couple thousand folks capable of taking me out, but trust me, you are not one of them.
This isn’t some ‘Arch’ idiocy where I leave my greatest rival alive. This is me watching you squirm because I can, and making a little profit on the deal.
Don’t flatter yourself. “ Art has produced a long thin knife as he talks, he spins and rolls it absently.
“Before your guys dragged me off, I met something. A corner store, I don’t know if it was haunted, possessed, or if it was some kind of creature that just decided to look like a knock off 7-11.
Point being, it was out there, ethereal, I couldn’t hurt it, outwit it, even slow it down. I ran from that thing as fast as I could. It gave me some serious Lovecraft vibes.
You, Art, are not that guy. “ I notice myself tapping my finger nervously on the slime covered floor, I focus, stopping the tic.
The tip of Art’s knife glows, the sick, grey sheen isn’t heat, but something that makes me start to back up.
“I am, but you will never see that. You’re not worth the effort.
I want to give you a little something though. “ Art stalks toward me, I stand as I back into the farthest corner of the cell, “ Proud of your face paint were you? “
Art grins, and for a moment lets some of his true self slip through. For just a moment I see timeless horror in his eyes, a dark black void of consumed souls and unrestrained evil.
That knife parts my flesh with pain like a whip. Without even using the blade, it’s presence flenses my face, opening up raw, textured furrows in my flesh.
He leaves after he is done, laughing to himself.
The pain makes me black out, my stomach is boiling, I come to dry heaving, the effort sends me back into the oblivion of sleep.
I don’t know how long has passed, my face feels like it is on fire, and the thick steel bars of my cell door are closed.
It takes me two minutes of cupping my hands under the grime laden steel tap to get enough water to clear off a spot on the rusted, old, wall mounted steel mirror.
No mortal hand could have scarred me as accurately as Art did. The wounds, not healed, but cauterised as to not make me bleed out, used depth, and width, to create a colorless replica of my makeup.
I know trauma, physical as well as mental, and these are scars that will never heal. As the fact sinks in that my face is literally no longer my own, I scream, heart pounding, I split open my knees on the cold cement floor.
Pain flares, threatens to send me back to the bliss of unconsciousness, but I don’t care.
I read Kev’s journals, and they paint me in a really… positive light, in a sense.
What I mean is, going by what he thought he saw, I’m some kind of supervillian or something. Tossing three hundred pound air conditioners ( it was the outer shell, seventy pounds, physics and luck did the rest.), wrestling Art ( I was clinging on for dear life, had it not been for Jr and the mass of denizens, I’d have been killed with a flick of his wrist.), or appearing like a ghost (people, even immortal are very unobservant. Especially in an emergency.).
I’m great at seeming horrifying, and that’s a weapon in and of itself, but at the end of the day, that’s all it is.
Kneeling in my own blood, vision blurry with pain, I realise how small, vulnerable, and unarmed I truly am.
By the time daylight shines through the yellow reinforced glass window, I’m already awake. I’ve spent an hour and a half calming myself, trying to find some focus, some centre to keep me going.
I’ve been in prison before, back home, first and last time I tried plying my trade outside of America.
Being the stupid payaso gringo that I am I bit off so much more than I can chew that I wound up choking on it for 2 months in a Mexican prison.
The routine of, count, lineup, chow, remained the same.
The demographics of the population on the other hand…
Being observant is one of my main skills and as I was brought into the absurdly sized cafeteria, I was taken aback at just how many people were here.
Tens of Thousands, easily, maybe a hundred. I try and think of how many missing person cases this accounts for, and even that math doesn’t quite add up.
I quickly inventory the groups that make up the place, not that it wasn’t obvious.
The first, of course are the guards. Some, the majority, appear to be human, well geared up and in intimidating physical condition.
But a handful, they are clearly, something else. Some are smooth featured ebony skinned giants, carrying truncheons that could crush a car engine. Others are grinning, pale skinned bad attempts at human copies, wild eyed and twitching.
Second would be what I called the cultists. They all appeared to style themselves after certain tropes and urban legends, clearly human, but dressing, tattooing and mutilating themselves to appear like, myths, legends, and monsters.
The subtle violence I see tells me I’ve found the gangs.
Third are the Everymen, I can’t see any kind of pattern to them, but they seem to make up the majority of the population. They keep their distance from the guards and the cultists, but on more than one occasion I see then stand, united against attempts at extortion.
The last group, I call the candles, people that are clearly on their way out mentally and physically. Sunken eyed, and set upon from all angles, at any moment these folks could be simply snuffed out.
I keep my distance, and stay respectful, the meandering, twisting line seems to take hours to get me my thick slice of crumbling yellow bread, and thick red slurry that reminds me of porridge masquerading as meat.
My coat is gone but I’m left with the majority of the clothing I fashioned back in the path. I see a mix of unwashed orange uniforms and ‘civilian’ clothing, some of the cultists, bordering more on costume than wardrobe.
As the massive, butchers apron wearing man in smeared clown makeup sits down, I wish I’d have been issued something more generic. I saw this coming the second I noticed a lump of Chlorophiles in blood stained getups.
“You sit with us. “ I can’t tell if it’s an accent or speech pattern, the clown sounds strange, either way.
I eat a spoonful of the red sludge.
“No disrespect intended, I’m not one for clubs. I’m going to make no waves, no plays, nothing. I’m a ghost. “ I say, levelly, avoiding eye contact.
Why, you might ask, having been told about my adventures in murder.
Well, that’s just it. Murder is easy, and any time you saw me end a life, it was just that.
A fight, that’s another thing entirely, especially against someone with a significant weight and height advantage.
“Not asking. You got friends. “ The massive clown moves his bulk closer, it’s like sitting next to a forklift.
I eat the bread, it tastes amazing until I swallow, then has a foul, chemical aftertaste.
I drink some tepid, burgundy fluid that might be caffeinated.
No weapons nearby, no one watching that might step in. I’m full of bruises and sprains, and probably anemic from blood loss. Not to mention one eye is running at about fifty per cent. Art didn’t sever the optic nerve last time, but he wasn’t gentle. My heart races.
“I don’t play well with people who take clowning and slap a coat of dark paint on it.
You guys are Clown Killers. You are good at killing, I’m sure, but the clown part, it’s tacked on.
Myself, I’m a killer clown…. “ I had a really good rant planned, honestly, it was a corker, douche bags would have used it in memes for a decade.
But before I can react, with one massive hand, he bounces my face off of the pitted steel table.
It rings my bell, but not as much as I let on. In clowning terms, what I do Is called a pratfall.
For those of you that don’t speak nerd, I oversell the hit, falling backwards, eyes fluttering.
I tip backwards, reaching out my left arm, as if to steady myself. The meat mountain is unbothered, knowing I have no chance unarmed, in this close, he let’s me grab one shoulder of the butchers apron. The material is thick, and matted in stains that will never come out, literally or metaphorically.
If you want to take someone out, in a relatively harmless way, you don’t want to choke them. It takes forever, usually ends up killing them, and generally is a bad idea for everyone involved.
Your goal is go cut off blood flow to the brain as quickly and fully as possible.
I hook my thumb around the opposite shoulder strap, and snap my body backward, the apron acting as an impromptu Garrotte.
His right arm is knotted through my left, as he tries to struggle, to put his murderous intent and ability to work, the choke only becomes tighter.
I don’t want enemies here, and I only have so many tricks to play before things come to a knock down drag out fight, so I leave the clown unharmed.
I do need friends, but the look I get as I take a seat at a loose collection of men is cold and fearful.
A red haired guy, five foot nine or so, makes eye contact, “Anything we can help you with? “ he says, fearless.
“Yeah, despite the face work I’ve had done, I have fuck all in common with any of those penny wise, Icp, Gacy dressed, assholes.
I need a tribe guys, you all look like the unlucky ones around here, but I don’t want to get involved in bloodshed.
I’m Mike “ I know, that’s only mostly true, but I mean it, either way. I extend a hand.
“Chris. “ the red haired guy says, he wears a white dress shirt and surprisingly blue jeans, “Those stains around your cuffs tell me otherwise.
If you’re telling the truth, that’s great. If you are lying, and still sane enough to keep your word, that’s even better. “ Chris’s tone is mirthless, I read him easily. He’s been here a long time for a short life, he looks thirty max, and I shudder to think how young he may have been when he came in.
Chris catches me up on the ins and outs of this place, beyond what a general knowledge of prison would give.
Everyone here has crimes they were not convicted of, that would, otherwise put them in jail for life. A large amount, obviously are murderers, torturers, real bastards.
But a significant minority are just regular folks, maybe a bit thoughtless, but that have collected a litany of small, petty, in cases almost victim less crimes.
No one seems to be aware of the… reality t.v. Meets demonic fast food aspect of things, but there is a Doom cherry on this fear Sunday.
There is a single way someone can get out. To earn 20 tokens.
And how does one earn these tokens you ask?
Each day the prison holds an event, to call it a challenge would insinuate a level of fair play that is simply not there. The events range from somewhat fair, a fight or game of chance, to esoteric rituals complex enough to rip someone’s soul from their body.
These tokens are also the sole form of currency in the prison, they can buy everything from commissary snacks to literal free passes from guards.
The economy has created a cut throat society, the heads of the cults not even taking advantage of being able to be free, but simply reveling in the power of being psychotic and enabled.
The weak are enslaved, their lives traded on the off chance at tokens.
So, of course, braindead asshole that I am, I signed myself right up. Feeling a little more confidant after climbing Mount Bozo.
It's 8pm and the volunteers are rounded up and brought to a massive room that has all the trappings of a gymnasium, but the scale is large enough easily hold the focus of tonight’s events.
In tiered bleachers all around us, our fellow prisoners cheer and scream. The smell of thousands of unwashed, men is overpowering, the din of excitement is deafening.
But my attention is focussed on the small, single floor home, sitting out of place in the middle of the polished wood floor.
What I wouldn’t give for Demi to appear right now, give me the low down on all the supernatural bullshit that is heading my way. But the longer we stayed in the mountain the less and less the most useful voice in my head could, or would, make an appearance.
I study each of my fellow volunteers, the goal seems simple, last the longest in the home. Men enter and leave within minutes. They come out looking shaken, with minor lacerations, and a general sense of shell shock.
By the time my turn arrives, I think I know what I’m in for.
I’m wrong.
As the baby blue door closes behind me, nothing immediately in the home causes me concern. The fixtures and furniture is a bit out of date, the lighting is, not inviting, and there is a general fog of gloom hanging around.
I smile, I’ve felt this before. Granted I had Demi feeding me supernatural errata at the time, but, I’m positive I can wing it.
“So, I think I may have met one of you guys before. Back in New York, a Happy-Face corner store, anyone you know?
Scary dude, took a couple of pieces out of me.
But this, it’s more like an MMA fight, right? I tap out when you start kicking my ass? “ I stretch, trying to see if I’m getting any kind of reaction.
I inventory the objects around me, last time everything that wasn’t nailed down, shifted, changed and tried to take me apart.
You may have noticed by now, I love using the phrase ‘ last time’, and that’s because up until this moment, I haven’t learned a fucking thing here.
Mike’s first rule of paranormal survival, last time means nothing.
“It’s you” the voice is young, late teens, and male.
I spin, expecting violence, then, wishing violence.
I know the young man, not this pale, older, revenant with a self inflicted gunshot wound, but I know him none the less.
I’m not being metaphorical when I say my heart misses a beat, I almost fall over, pounding at my chest to stop it’s arythmatic pounding.
I knew what happened to him, found it out long after I could do anything about it. And wasn’t in the best of places when I did.
I’ll call him a ghost for simplicity sake, but this kid, he’s my first, and biggest mistake.
I based who I turned into on finding what I thought was one of the worst people on earth. This kid’s father.
I did things to him worthy of what I knew he did. And to top it all off, I had him die by his wife’s hand.
Well, a decade later I find out, the guy wasn’t a Saint, but he didn’t do anything worthy of the twisted shit I put him through.
I got wind of some false information put out there in a moment of rage by a tech savvy ten year old. The kid never intended it to see the light of day
“I found out about you Mike, I saw that you were a hero. “ The voice is thin echoes like a stuck record.
“No kid, don’t think that. “ I mumble, I’m shaking, the air is freezing, each breath comes out as white mist.
I’m sitting on the flower printed couch now, and it hits me.
I’d assumed because Art couldn’t screw around in my head last time, the same went for everything here.
Remember what we said about last time.
“My told me what happened one night, what I made you do.
I destroyed her memory of him, I made a real Hero kill him, I couldn’t keep hurting people. “ I can see images, flashing in my mind, memories that are not mine.
I’m counting seconds, trying to focus, trying to stay long enough to get the token. It has to have been fifteen, twenty minutes at least.
I try to work up a smirk, to convince myself that I’m just being played by the paranormal equivalent of a heckler.
That’s not it though, This place, this house, is reaching inside me and finding places to look. As I stare into the young man’s rotted eyes I know this is some part of him, torn away from whatever rest he was entitled to.
The lights dim, then turn off. The house is silent.
Hollywood gets being both a lunatic and a hitman wrong in equal measure. No matter how much morality you want to inject into the profession, there are going to come times when you make mistakes.
As the lights slowly turn to a dull orange glow, I’m surrounded by the hovering, mutilated forms of mine.
Those that died that could have been spared, those that died because of my inaction, or stupidity. I’ve never forgotten them, I use them to make sure I never make the same mistakes again, but having them looming, screaming, all demanding I hear their stories, their accusations, their placations.
It's too much, I stumble from the couch, trying to avoid the icy touch of these phantoms. For a moment I find some last scrap of courage, I close my eyes, shut out the shrieking din of the dead.
The silence hits like a truck, I focus, trying to calm my burned out nerves.
Then they are reignited like a fucking welding torch.
“This place didn’t bring us here.
We’ve been right next to you for years Mike. We can’t leave. “ The voice of my first mistake.
Like a toddler I try to run with my eyes closed, I trip over a glass coffee table, clawing my way up the door, grasping at the handle.
I can feel a slight pull now, almost magnetic, trying to drag me backwards.
My hands shake too much, I have to steady my right wrist with my left hand, the floor becomes slick, I see the door, escape start to move further away as I’m pulled backward.
I've taken a hit or two, and had a couple of three day benders that have made me piss myself. But as I stumble, trying to make progress on the nearly friction less floor, I have another unpleasant first experience.
I grab the handle, pulling myself out of the house, launching my body into a skin peeling tumble across unforgiving plank flooring.
I’m a shaking, fetal wreck, by the time I’ve pulled myself together enough to take in my surroundings, I see the red Led clock displaying my time.
42 seconds. Bottom of the barrel. The jeers and booing from the crowd do nothing for my frayed nerves or the storm of fear and anxiety going through my mind.
I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep, it has nothing to do with the concrete slab that serves as my bed.
My stomach has been knotting and cramping, with each passing second I get more worried I blew some internal gasket in one of the many life or death struggles in the past months.
When I finally manage to vomit, the urge is strong enough I get no where near the filth crusted hole in the floor that serves as my toilet. And my worst fears are confirmed as I see the massive pile of vomit is mostly blood.
… and bones? Is that an eyeball? A piece of fur?
The mass begins to pull itself together, bits and pieces forming the most rudimentary attempt at a face.
“Junior? “ I say, stunned.

Here’s an article that summarizes the 4 Bills:
https://www.world-energy.org/article/30387.html](https://www.world-energy.org/article/30387.html
If passed (which is likely imo because it’s a bipartisan bill), it will boost the hydrogen industry financially by a lot. And Nikola is a part of it by building hydrogen trucks and hydrogen stations. Here are my summarized notes from reading the four bills. I encourage you to read the bills yourself though.
Four bipartisan bills are introduced under the names of:

• S. 646 Hydrogen for Industry Act of 2023
• S.647 Hydrogen for Ports Act of 2023
• S.648 Hydrogen for Trucks Act of 2023
• S. 649 Hydrogen Infrastructure Finance and Innovation Act

S. 646 Hydrogen for Industry Act of 2023

Direct link to this Bill: https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/646/text?s=3&r=2&q=%7B%22search%22%3A%5B%22hydrogen%22%5D%7D
​

• Purpose of this Bill:

” To amend the Energy Policy Act of 2005 to establish a Hydrogen Technologies for Heavy Industry Demonstration Program, and for other purposes. The purpose of the Program is to support the adoption of hydrogen as an emissions reduction technology for heavy industry, including in applications where hydrogen is blended with other fuels or feedstocks. ”
​

• When will it be in effect and what will it cover:

” Not later than 180 days after the date of enactment of the Hydrogen for Industry Act of 2023, the Secretary shall establish a program, to be known as the ‘Hydrogen Technologies for Heavy Industry Demonstration Program’ (referred to in this section as the ‘Program’), under which the Secretary shall provide grants or cooperative agreements to demonstrate industrial end-use applications of hydrogen for—
“(1) iron, steel, and metals manufacturing;
“(2) cement manufacturing;
“(3) glass manufacturing;
“(4) ammonia and fertilizer production;
“(5) industrial food processes;
“(6) production of synthetic fuels from hydrogen, such as with carbon oxides;
“(7) fuel refining, such as biorefining;
“(8) chemical synthesis, such as synthesis of methanol and ethylene;
“(9) process heaters, including hydrogen combustion with environmental controls;
“(10) cogeneration to make electricity or heat to support industrial processes; or
“(11) any other use of hydrogen for heavy industry, as determined by the Secretary. ”
​

• Amount of Grants:

“(2) AMOUNT OF GRANT OR COOPERATIVE AGREEMENT.—The amount of a grant or cooperative agreement provided to an eligible entity under this subsection shall be not more than $400,000,000.”
​

S.647 Hydrogen for Ports Act of 2023

Direct link to this Bill:
https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/647/text?s=3&r=4&q=%7B%22search%22%3A%5B%22hydrogen%22%5D%7D
​

• Purpose of this Bill:

”To require the Secretary of Transportation to establish a grant program to support the use of hydrogen- or ammonia-fueled equipment at ports and to require the Secretary of the department in which the Coast Guard is operating to conduct a study, together with the Secretary of Energy and the Secretary of Transportation, regarding the feasibility and safety of using hydrogen and ammonia as fuels in maritime applications.”
​

• When will it be in effect and what will it cover:

”Establishment of program.—Not later than 180 days after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary, in coordination with the Secretary of Energy, shall establish a program under which the Secretary shall provide grants, on a competitive basis, to eligible entities for—
(1) the purchase, installation, planning, design, or construction of, as appropriate—
(A) fuel cell cargo-handling equipment that uses an eligible fuel;
(B) fuel cell drayage or long-haul trucks that— (i) use an eligible fuel; and
(ii) are for use at ports;
(C) fuel cell ferries, tugboats, dredging vessels, container ships, bulk carriers, fuel tankers, commercial fishing vessels, cruise ships, or other marine vessels that use an eligible fuel;
(D) fuel cell locomotives that— (i) use an eligible fuel; and
(ii) are for use at ports;
(E) fuel cell shore power systems that— (i) use an eligible fuel; and
(ii) are used for ships while docked at port;
(F) onsite fuel cell power plants that—
(i) use an eligible fuel; and
(ii) are located at port facilities; or
(G) port infrastructure for establishing or expanding the supply of eligible fuel for import, export, storage, bunkering, or fueling; and
(2) the training of ship crew and shore personnel—
(A) to safely handle eligible fuel; and
(B) to perform operation and maintenance on equipment that uses an eligible fuel.
(c) Goals.—The goals of the program shall be—
(1) to demonstrate hydrogen, ammonia, or fuel cell technologies in maritime and associated logistics applications;
(2) to assist in the development and validation of technical targets for hydrogen, ammonia, and fuel cell systems for maritime and associated logistics applications;
(3) to benchmark the conditions required for broad commercialization of hydrogen, ammonia, and fuel cell technologies in maritime and associated logistics applications;
(4) to assess the operational and technical considerations for—
(A) installing, constructing, and using hydrogen- or ammonia-fueled equipment; and
(B) supporting infrastructure at ports; and
(5) to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and improve air quality in areas located in and around ports.
”

• Amount of Grants:
  (i) Funding.—
  
• (1) AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS.—There is authorized to be appropriated to the Secretary to carry out the program $100,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2024 through 2028.
  
• (2) HUMAN-OPERATED EQUIPMENT REQUIREMENT.—In carrying out the program, the Secretary shall ensure that funding is made available for each fiscal year for cargo-handling equipment that uses an eligible fuel and is human-operated.
  

​

S.648 Hydrogen for Trucks Act of 2023

Direct link to this Bill: https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/648/text?s=3&r=3&q=%7B%22search%22%3A%5B%22hydrogen%22%5D%7D
​

• Purpose of this Bill:

”To require the Secretary of Transportation, in consultation with the Secretary of Energy, to establish a grant program to demonstrate the performance and reliability of heavy-duty fuel cell vehicles that use hydrogen as a fuel source, and for other purposes.”
”Goals.—The goals of the program shall be—
(1) to demonstrate the performance and reliability of heavy-duty fuel cell vehicles in different regions of the United States;
(2) to provide a basis for relevant cost evaluations and cost reductions; and
(3) to accelerate the market deployment of heavy-duty fuel cell vehicles.
”

• When will it be in effect and what will it cover:
  ”Not later than 180 days after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of Energy, shall establish a grant program under which the Secretary shall provide grants to eligible entities to assist the eligible entities in funding capital projects to purchase heavy-duty fuel cell vehicles and related equipment, including hydrogen fueling stations.”
  
• Amount of Grants:
  

”(e) Amount of a grant.—The amount of a grant provided by the Secretary under the program shall be not more than $20,000,000.”

S. 649 Hydrogen Infrastructure Finance and Innovation Act

Direct link to this Bill: https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/649/text?s=3&r=1&q=%7B%22search%22%3A%5B%22hydrogen%22%5D%7D
​

• Purpose of this Bill:

”To require the Secretary of Energy to establish a hydrogen infrastructure finance and innovation pilot program, and for other purposes.”
​

• When will it be in effect and what will it cover:
  ”Not later than 18 months after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary of Energy, in coordination with the Administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, the Chair of the Council on Environmental Quality, the Administrator of the Energy Information Administration, and the heads of other relevant Federal agencies, shall conduct a study subject to notice and public comment—
  
• (1) to fully assess and report the potential layout of pipeline corridors, including existing and new infrastructure, that—
  
• (A) are robust against a range of projected hydrogen demand futures; and
  
• (B) reflect the potential to site within, or adjacent to, existing pipeline or other linear infrastructure corridors;
  
• (2) to assess the costs associated with each infrastructure scenario described in paragraph (1);
  
• (3) to synthesize the results from research, development, and demonstration projects on materials and metallurgy for transporting and storing hydrogen and hydrogen-based fuels, such as ammonia;
  
• (4) to determine outstanding questions with regard to research, development, and demonstration of infrastructure for transporting and storing hydrogen and hydrogen-based fuels, such as ammonia;
  
• (5) to investigate the behavior and environmental impact of hydrogen leakage in pipelines and from geologic storage sites and nongeologic storage equipment;
  
• (6) to determine best practices for the construction and maintenance of hydrogen pipelines;
  
• (7) to determine the reduction in carbon intensity at various levels of hydrogen blending into the natural gas network; and
  
• (8) to establish a framework for the measurement, reporting, and management of hydrogen leaks.
  
• Amount of Grants:
  ”(n) Authorization of appropriations.—There is authorized to be appropriated to the Secretary to carry out the HIFIA pilot program $100,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2024 through 2028.”
  

What is the most unique food truck you've ever tried and why was it memorable?

What is the most unique food truck you've ever tried and why was it memorable?

I’m headed to Kauai in May for the first time staying in Princeville! I’ve read that reservations are required for a lot of restaurants on the island and they book up weeks in advance. So my question is, does that apply to all restaurants or mostly fine dining ones? We usually stick to casual dining and food trucks. Just want to make sure we’re prepared. Thanks!!

Cafe 1919, bruin bowl, and morning b caf better be making a comeback then.

Everything’s gotta eat right? It’s as natural as breathing…well usually it’s natural. Some things don’t breathe. Like rocks, water, and the undead. All of those things don’t breathe, and that’s very natural for them. But in general, if it can breed, it can usually breathe. That makes sense right?
I am sorry. I tend to get a little lost in the moment when I think by myself. It’s a rare treat. Anyways, as I was saying, everything has to eat. Even things that I once thought impossible have to eat. Fortunately for most of us, as the world changed the things that would eat us found it a lot harder to get away with just snatching up a local civilian like we snatch up so many dollar cheeseburgers. It’s a lot harder to be a monster in the modern world, at least that is what I am told by my customers. Everyone is a photographer now.
Long gone are the days of the rare lucky photographer catching a glimpse of the supernatural. Now anyone and everyone can be that lucky photographer. You see monsters are a lot like celebrities. They desire a privacy they can never have because of who they are. In that way monsters are kind of a sad group of beings. Quite prone to loneliness as their numbers have dwindled over the years.
That’s where I come in. I provide two very essential services to the monster community of the Midwest. Firstly, I acquire suitable food and sundries so that they may live out their lives and unlives in peace and comfort. Secondly, I provide a small amount of company to the more lonely individuals of the monster community. Well the lonely ones who won’t express their emotions by ripping out my stomach. The job pays immensely well and the service is provided by a company I won’t mention by name. You can probably guess which one though…like if you think about which delivery company probably feeds monsters…it’s not hard to figure out which one it is. I like my job most of the time, but some clients really freak me out.
One such client is the subject of this little online journal entry of mine. See there’s this guy…creature…collective…let’s go with guy, he’s kind of hard to deal with. See first of all he eats an insane amount. Literally eight horses was what I was delivering. The other problem was talking to him. He’s kind of insane and scares the living shit out of me. The special instructions for his deliveries always mention he is “mostly harmless”, but I just can’t shake the feeling that’s inaccurate. He has told me multiple times that “my digestion is inevitable”, which I am not sure what to make of that. I am not sure if that’s a death threat or what? I just know it scares the fuck out of me.
I remember the other me having a good ole time taunting me during the delivery too. Oh, yeah btw there is another me. Not like two physical copies of myself, that would be silly, no there’s like another copy of me living in my head. It’s not like a mental illness or some kind of witch's curse or anything. Just something that I was born with. It’s like a copy of myself that doesn’t have to interact with the world, and is therefore uncaring as to our ultimate fate or comfort. So mostly it just bullies me.
“Aw, is Sam afraid of the big bad flesh beast? Are you gonna break out in a panic sweat?” They taunted me.
“I mean probably. It’s hot out and I am anxious as hell. You know I don’t like dealing with the Flesh thing.” I replied to the other me.
“I like him. He’s kinda like us. Except instead of two people, he’s like thousands. Also all of him agrees and is pretty much uniform. Unlike us where one of us is cool, and the other is an aimless loser.”
“You’re more than welcome to come out and take control. Feel free to do this shitty run for me.”
“Nah, I like to watch.”
“Except when I am eating cheesecake. Right?”
“You don’t even like cheesecake. You buy that for me, and you know it.”
Thankfully, me and my other self don’t share the same thoughts. So I always have a nice quiet place in my own mind to get away from…myself. Yeah…anyway, I was able to tune myself out and run over the checklist for the delivery. Once I got to their home I had to drive around back to the well. Then press the button on the side of the trailer to release the horses, then kinda just be generally out of the way. The feeding is more or less the easy part. The hard part is talking to him. I really don’t wanna talk about tapeworms again…I now know so much about tapeworms that I wish I didn't. Did you know you can get a tapeworm in your brain? Fucking gross!I continued to snake through the rural roads of a small farming town looking for the dilapidated farmhouse the app was trying to direct me to. That in and of itself also frightened me. I have never liked driving through the less populous areas of the Midwest. It’s too dark, too many deer coming out of nowhere, nothing around if you break down, and just oppressively devoid of anything resembling human life. Despite my preoccupation with all my passive hatred for the country, I did find the farmhouse. Even though the mailbox was rusted and damaged, the numbers 1552 still shined as though they were new. I began carefully maneuvering my truck up the poorly maintained dirt driveway. I grew more anxious with each pothole I drove over in the driveway. The loud metallic clunks from the truck and attached trailer somehow amplified by the empty night. As I made my way around the crumbling farmhouse and saw the well, I veered off into the grass so that I could back the trailer up to the well. Through my side mirror I spotted some movement from within the well.
“He seems especially hungry today.” Said the other me. “Better hurry! I would hate to see what he does when he gets impatient”.
I really don’t like the other me. I am absolutely no help to myself. When the truck was finally in position, I opened my center console and removed the firearm the company provides. It was for all intents and purposes a normal Glock. What was special were the magazines and bullets. See in this line of work tasers and pepper spray don’t work all that well. What does work are bullets of varying types. My usual magazine has what we call the “safety stack”, the first 2 bullets are warding bullets enchanted with some kind of old Viking runes. If those don’t work the next two shots are Iron and Silver. Iron and silver tend to at the very least be quite painful to most monsters. Then it’s a myriad of other potentially useful bullets the rest of the way down. Consecrated bullets, dead sea bullets, etc. Ending with a final incendiary bullet that would either do the trick on them or me, depending on what I decided to do should I need it. I did not choose my a safety stack for this, I chose my all incendiary magazine and loaded it.
I got out of the vehicle with a flashlight in hand and went to the button on the side of the trailer. I could hear the horses inside getting antsy, I felt bad for them…but we all had to eat. I pressed the button and allowed the back doors to swing open, there was an instant scuffling amongst the horses as they tried to flee the trailer. It was short-lived though as a mass of sickly pink and red meat projected out of the well and sealed off the horses’ exodus. There was a sound of crunching bone and distressed horses. A sanguine dribble grew louder and louder as the fluids of dying horses leaked onto the metallic trailer floor. The smell of freshly slaughtered meat mixed with the putrid smell of the flesh beast, creating a smell that threatened to turn me vegan. I waited patiently, I still had the other part of my job to do. I still had to keep the creature company. My hand hovered over the “timer start” button on the app, intending to press it as soon as it started talking. I didn’t wanna spend any extra time around this thing.
After more time passed the creature finally dislodged from the entrance to the trailer and oozed its way toward me as a long pile of meat. There were still horse limbs sticking out of it, but if my experience was correct, they would not remain long. At about 15 feet away it took on a hulking form that could almost be described as human at a distance. Two vacuous holes formed on its face, then a slit for a mouth. It opened its mouth wide as pieces of its gooey flesh snapped and popped with sickening moistness.
“Thank you Sam, I was starving. Another day or two and I would have had to find my own food,” It said with a bubbly and muddled voice.
“Not a problem Cole, would have been here sooner but the guys loading up the horses were late today.” I said, starting the in app timer. 30 minutes to go.
“Oh it’s perfectly all right. I am happy to see you again, it’s so rare to meet people who don’t run in terror at the sight of me.”
I felt a little bad at hearing this. Monsters are universally lonely, and Cole was no exception. He scared the living shit out of me, and my heart was going a mile a minute, but still I couldn’t help but open up a bit to the monster’s loneliness.
“Well you have like thousands of minds inside you. Right?” I asked.
“12,136 human minds, but a far greater number of animal minds. I have lost count of how many of those I have. I assume though you mean the human ones.”
“Well do any of those minds understand why most people run?”
“Yes, many do. They feared before they were one with me, and now they are without fear. They do remember the fear though. Such an unpleasant sensation. I have no idea why your kind allows it. Would it not be easier to beat fear out of human children?”
“Yeah, child abuse is not really tolerated in modern society. There have been a few people who have tried what you are describing, but it usually results in less than ideal results. I am pretty sure that’s how most serial killers are made.” I responded, looking down at the timer on the app.
It was gonna be a long one. Not more than a minute in and Cole was already talking about beating children to eliminate fear. At least he wasn’t talking about tapeworms again. I don’t think I could have had another conversation about tapeworms. This was also adequately uncomfortable though.
“What is wrong with being a serial killer?”
“Well, we as a species have kinda decided we don’t like when one of our own just starts shamelessly murdering people. I know that is probably a weird concept to someone like yourself though.” I responded, trying to be sensitive to the creature's world view.
It brought a meaty facsimile of a hand to its “chin”, and stroked it as though it had a beard. It made a sound like mixing ground beef by hand. It also allowed his very unique smell of rot and decay to emanate more freely. I suppressed a desire to vomit, and maintained a plastic smile.
“Is war not shameless murder?”
“Yeah…yeah it is.” I answered hesitantly.
“Your kind seems to like those quite a lot. Why else would you all be constantly fighting and killing each other?”
“Well no one actually likes war. Also those usually occur because powerful politicians order it or some sort of land dispute. Or someone wants more natural resources…” I was cut off,
“Yes, but people willingly sign up for the military knowing full well they may be called to fight. They know the risk, they volunteer to kill, they volunteer for THE HARVEST” Cole croaked this out, working himself into a frenzy.
I shifted my weight to my other leg, passing the flashlight’s beam over his body. I could see his mincemeat flesh growing red, a tell tale sign of agitation outlined in his customer profile. I felt as adrenaline began coursing through my veins and attempted to control my breathing to mitigate its effects.
“Why would humans willingly partake in a harvest if they did not desire it. Do not all humans desire death, they seem so willing to race head first into the maw of oblivion. Such a waste. If only it was the old days. The people who lived here long ago, when they were near death, they would come to me and join in my majesty. They respected me, they wanted to live on in me. They chose this” Cole said, reaching into his chest area and removing a brain from his mass. “This woman here, her name lost to time, lives within me. Her life was stolen from the void to live on through me in infinite ecstasy! Why would humans choose anything other than this? Why have I been forgotten!”
“Well that’s a lot to unpack and I don’t know the whole story. I imagine though it must be frustrating, the way things are now. It must be hard to keep it all in.” I said, trying to seize control of my rapidly increasing heart rate. “Surely though you respect a person's right to choose how they rest?”
“Why would I respect an inferior choice? Do you respect the choices of a drug addict?”
“No, but I understand and empathize with them. It’s not my place to judge them or control them.”
“You only say that because you cannot. I could help everyone. I can help you.” Cole took a hulking step towards me. “I could take you into our being. I could separate the two of you. Finally let the both of you have the distance from each other you need.”
“I think we’re doing ok as we are. We clash sometimes, but we do our best to get along. I do appreciate the offer though.” I said frantically, trying to decide whether or not to pull my firearm.
“It’s not an offer. I must separate you two. Your minds call out to me for freedom. Fear not sweet meat, you are merely a protein prison. Your minds need to be freed, too long have they festered in their confinement.”
“Cole, I am not on the menu. We’ve discussed this.” I drew my firearm.
“Anything I can catch is on the menu!” He shrieked, raising a fleshy arm above his head.
At this point, I was well within my contractual rights with the company to open fire. So I did, I loosed every last round in the magazine. My eye’s burned as they tried to adjust to the bright flashes of the bullets contacting Cole’s skin. Several pieces of his fleshy mass were now immolating, and this caused him to step back and away from me. I took this momentary opening to jump into my vehicle and tear ass down the driveway. I must have blacked out from fear because I didn’t really remember anything until about 2 miles down the road. I remember feeling very dizzy and ill. I remember looking at the app and pushing the little bell icon in the right corner of the app. Clicking “report harassment”, and then speaking to one of the driver care specialists. I remember reporting everything I could remember, and getting a bonus payment on the delivery. It all happened as though I was in a dream, as though I was not in control of myself. I felt so detached. Then I sat for I don’t know how long. Feeling bad about having shot Cole, even though I was within my rights. Feeling bad that Cole felt so alone and powerless. I just couldn’t help but feel bad.
After a while I calmed down and came here to write this down. I guess to vent? To just feel heard? I am not a hundred percent sure. Other me says it’s “a waste of time” and “no one cares about your stupid independent contractor gig”. Maybe they’re right, but I do feel better for having written it down. If I have any more bad nights I'll post them here. If nothing else, but for the therapeutic value.
Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u5l8mf/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_2/
Part 3: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u7wnas/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_3/
Part 4: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/ubis95/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_4/
Part 5: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/uen5d2/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_5/

Everything’s gotta eat right? It’s as natural as breathing…well usually it’s natural. Some things don’t breathe. Like rocks, water, and the undead. All of those things don’t breathe, and that’s very natural for them. But in general, if it can breed, it can usually breathe. That makes sense right?
I am sorry. I tend to get a little lost in the moment when I think by myself. It’s a rare treat. Anyways, as I was saying, everything has to eat. Even things that I once thought impossible have to eat. Fortunately for most of us, as the world changed the things that would eat us found it a lot harder to get away with just snatching up a local civilian like we snatch up so many dollar cheeseburgers. It’s a lot harder to be a monster in the modern world, at least that is what I am told by my customers. Everyone is a photographer now.
Long gone are the days of the rare lucky photographer catching a glimpse of the supernatural. Now anyone and everyone can be that lucky photographer. You see monsters are a lot like celebrities. They desire a privacy they can never have because of who they are. In that way monsters are kind of a sad group of beings. Quite prone to loneliness as their numbers have dwindled over the years.
That’s where I come in. I provide two very essential services to the monster community of the Midwest. Firstly, I acquire suitable food and sundries so that they may live out their lives and unlives in peace and comfort. Secondly, I provide a small amount of company to the more lonely individuals of the monster community. Well the lonely ones who won’t express their emotions by ripping out my stomach. The job pays immensely well and the service is provided by a company I won’t mention by name. You can probably guess which one though…like if you think about which delivery company probably feeds monsters…it’s not hard to figure out which one it is. I like my job most of the time, but some clients really freak me out.
One such client is the subject of this little online journal entry of mine. See there’s this guy…creature…collective…let’s go with guy, he’s kind of hard to deal with. See first of all he eats an insane amount. Literally eight horses was what I was delivering. The other problem was talking to him. He’s kind of insane and scares the living shit out of me. The special instructions for his deliveries always mention he is “mostly harmless”, but I just can’t shake the feeling that’s inaccurate. He has told me multiple times that “my digestion is inevitable”, which I am not sure what to make of that. I am not sure if that’s a death threat or what? I just know it scares the fuck out of me.
I remember the other me having a good ole time taunting me during the delivery too. Oh, yeah btw there is another me. Not like two physical copies of myself, that would be silly, no there’s like another copy of me living in my head. It’s not like a mental illness or some kind of witch's curse or anything. Just something that I was born with. It’s like a copy of myself that doesn’t have to interact with the world, and is therefore uncaring as to our ultimate fate or comfort. So mostly it just bullies me.
“Aw, is Sam afraid of the big bad flesh beast? Are you gonna break out in a panic sweat?” They taunted me.
“I mean probably. It’s hot out and I am anxious as hell. You know I don’t like dealing with the Flesh thing.” I replied to the other me.
“I like him. He’s kinda like us. Except instead of two people, he’s like thousands. Also all of him agrees and is pretty much uniform. Unlike us where one of us is cool, and the other is an aimless loser.”
“You’re more than welcome to come out and take control. Feel free to do this shitty run for me.”
“Nah, I like to watch.”
“Except when I am eating cheesecake. Right?”
“You don’t even like cheesecake. You buy that for me, and you know it.”
Thankfully, me and my other self don’t share the same thoughts. So I always have a nice quiet place in my own mind to get away from…myself. Yeah…anyway, I was able to tune myself out and run over the checklist for the delivery. Once I got to their home I had to drive around back to the well. Then press the button on the side of the trailer to release the horses, then kinda just be generally out of the way. The feeding is more or less the easy part. The hard part is talking to him. I really don’t wanna talk about tapeworms again…I now know so much about tapeworms that I wish I didn't. Did you know you can get a tapeworm in your brain? Fucking gross!I continued to snake through the rural roads of a small farming town looking for the dilapidated farmhouse the app was trying to direct me to. That in and of itself also frightened me. I have never liked driving through the less populous areas of the Midwest. It’s too dark, too many deer coming out of nowhere, nothing around if you break down, and just oppressively devoid of anything resembling human life. Despite my preoccupation with all my passive hatred for the country, I did find the farmhouse. Even though the mailbox was rusted and damaged, the numbers 1552 still shined as though they were new. I began carefully maneuvering my truck up the poorly maintained dirt driveway. I grew more anxious with each pothole I drove over in the driveway. The loud metallic clunks from the truck and attached trailer somehow amplified by the empty night. As I made my way around the crumbling farmhouse and saw the well, I veered off into the grass so that I could back the trailer up to the well. Through my side mirror I spotted some movement from within the well.
“He seems especially hungry today.” Said the other me. “Better hurry! I would hate to see what he does when he gets impatient”.
I really don’t like the other me. I am absolutely no help to myself. When the truck was finally in position, I opened my center console and removed the firearm the company provides. It was for all intents and purposes a normal Glock. What was special were the magazines and bullets. See in this line of work tasers and pepper spray don’t work all that well. What does work are bullets of varying types. My usual magazine has what we call the “safety stack”, the first 2 bullets are warding bullets enchanted with some kind of old Viking runes. If those don’t work the next two shots are Iron and Silver. Iron and silver tend to at the very least be quite painful to most monsters. Then it’s a myriad of other potentially useful bullets the rest of the way down. Consecrated bullets, dead sea bullets, etc. Ending with a final incendiary bullet that would either do the trick on them or me, depending on what I decided to do should I need it. I did not choose my a safety stack for this, I chose my all incendiary magazine and loaded it.
I got out of the vehicle with a flashlight in hand and went to the button on the side of the trailer. I could hear the horses inside getting antsy, I felt bad for them…but we all had to eat. I pressed the button and allowed the back doors to swing open, there was an instant scuffling amongst the horses as they tried to flee the trailer. It was short-lived though as a mass of sickly pink and red meat projected out of the well and sealed off the horses’ exodus. There was a sound of crunching bone and distressed horses. A sanguine dribble grew louder and louder as the fluids of dying horses leaked onto the metallic trailer floor. The smell of freshly slaughtered meat mixed with the putrid smell of the flesh beast, creating a smell that threatened to turn me vegan. I waited patiently, I still had the other part of my job to do. I still had to keep the creature company. My hand hovered over the “timer start” button on the app, intending to press it as soon as it started talking. I didn’t wanna spend any extra time around this thing.
After more time passed the creature finally dislodged from the entrance to the trailer and oozed its way toward me as a long pile of meat. There were still horse limbs sticking out of it, but if my experience was correct, they would not remain long. At about 15 feet away it took on a hulking form that could almost be described as human at a distance. Two vacuous holes formed on its face, then a slit for a mouth. It opened its mouth wide as pieces of its gooey flesh snapped and popped with sickening moistness.
“Thank you Sam, I was starving. Another day or two and I would have had to find my own food,” It said with a bubbly and muddled voice.
“Not a problem Cole, would have been here sooner but the guys loading up the horses were late today.” I said, starting the in app timer. 30 minutes to go.
“Oh it’s perfectly all right. I am happy to see you again, it’s so rare to meet people who don’t run in terror at the sight of me.”
I felt a little bad at hearing this. Monsters are universally lonely, and Cole was no exception. He scared the living shit out of me, and my heart was going a mile a minute, but still I couldn’t help but open up a bit to the monster’s loneliness.
“Well you have like thousands of minds inside you. Right?” I asked.
“12,136 human minds, but a far greater number of animal minds. I have lost count of how many of those I have. I assume though you mean the human ones.”
“Well do any of those minds understand why most people run?”
“Yes, many do. They feared before they were one with me, and now they are without fear. They do remember the fear though. Such an unpleasant sensation. I have no idea why your kind allows it. Would it not be easier to beat fear out of human children?”
“Yeah, child abuse is not really tolerated in modern society. There have been a few people who have tried what you are describing, but it usually results in less than ideal results. I am pretty sure that’s how most serial killers are made.” I responded, looking down at the timer on the app.
It was gonna be a long one. Not more than a minute in and Cole was already talking about beating children to eliminate fear. At least he wasn’t talking about tapeworms again. I don’t think I could have had another conversation about tapeworms. This was also adequately uncomfortable though.
“What is wrong with being a serial killer?”
“Well, we as a species have kinda decided we don’t like when one of our own just starts shamelessly murdering people. I know that is probably a weird concept to someone like yourself though.” I responded, trying to be sensitive to the creature's world view.
It brought a meaty facsimile of a hand to its “chin”, and stroked it as though it had a beard. It made a sound like mixing ground beef by hand. It also allowed his very unique smell of rot and decay to emanate more freely. I suppressed a desire to vomit, and maintained a plastic smile.
“Is war not shameless murder?”
“Yeah…yeah it is.” I answered hesitantly.
“Your kind seems to like those quite a lot. Why else would you all be constantly fighting and killing each other?”
“Well no one actually likes war. Also those usually occur because powerful politicians order it or some sort of land dispute. Or someone wants more natural resources…” I was cut off,
“Yes, but people willingly sign up for the military knowing full well they may be called to fight. They know the risk, they volunteer to kill, they volunteer for THE HARVEST” Cole croaked this out, working himself into a frenzy.
I shifted my weight to my other leg, passing the flashlight’s beam over his body. I could see his mincemeat flesh growing red, a tell tale sign of agitation outlined in his customer profile. I felt as adrenaline began coursing through my veins and attempted to control my breathing to mitigate its effects.
“Why would humans willingly partake in a harvest if they did not desire it. Do not all humans desire death, they seem so willing to race head first into the maw of oblivion. Such a waste. If only it was the old days. The people who lived here long ago, when they were near death, they would come to me and join in my majesty. They respected me, they wanted to live on in me. They chose this” Cole said, reaching into his chest area and removing a brain from his mass. “This woman here, her name lost to time, lives within me. Her life was stolen from the void to live on through me in infinite ecstasy! Why would humans choose anything other than this? Why have I been forgotten!”
“Well that’s a lot to unpack and I don’t know the whole story. I imagine though it must be frustrating, the way things are now. It must be hard to keep it all in.” I said, trying to seize control of my rapidly increasing heart rate. “Surely though you respect a person's right to choose how they rest?”
“Why would I respect an inferior choice? Do you respect the choices of a drug addict?”
“No, but I understand and empathize with them. It’s not my place to judge them or control them.”
“You only say that because you cannot. I could help everyone. I can help you.” Cole took a hulking step towards me. “I could take you into our being. I could separate the two of you. Finally let the both of you have the distance from each other you need.”
“I think we’re doing ok as we are. We clash sometimes, but we do our best to get along. I do appreciate the offer though.” I said frantically, trying to decide whether or not to pull my firearm.
“It’s not an offer. I must separate you two. Your minds call out to me for freedom. Fear not sweet meat, you are merely a protein prison. Your minds need to be freed, too long have they festered in their confinement.”
“Cole, I am not on the menu. We’ve discussed this.” I drew my firearm.
“Anything I can catch is on the menu!” He shrieked, raising a fleshy arm above his head.
At this point, I was well within my contractual rights with the company to open fire. So I did, I loosed every last round in the magazine. My eye’s burned as they tried to adjust to the bright flashes of the bullets contacting Cole’s skin. Several pieces of his fleshy mass were now immolating, and this caused him to step back and away from me. I took this momentary opening to jump into my vehicle and tear ass down the driveway. I must have blacked out from fear because I didn’t really remember anything until about 2 miles down the road. I remember feeling very dizzy and ill. I remember looking at the app and pushing the little bell icon in the right corner of the app. Clicking “report harassment”, and then speaking to one of the driver care specialists. I remember reporting everything I could remember, and getting a bonus payment on the delivery. It all happened as though I was in a dream, as though I was not in control of myself. I felt so detached. Then I sat for I don’t know how long. Feeling bad about having shot Cole, even though I was within my rights. Feeling bad that Cole felt so alone and powerless. I just couldn’t help but feel bad.
After a while I calmed down and came here to write this down. I guess to vent? To just feel heard? I am not a hundred percent sure. Other me says it’s “a waste of time” and “no one cares about your stupid independent contractor gig”. Maybe they’re right, but I do feel better for having written it down. If I have any more bad nights I'll post them here. If nothing else, but for the therapeutic value.
Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u5l8mf/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_2/
Part 3: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u7wnas/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_3/
Part 4: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/ubis95/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_4/
Part 5: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/uen5d2/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_5/

Everything’s gotta eat right? It’s as natural as breathing…well usually it’s natural. Some things don’t breathe. Like rocks, water, and the undead. All of those things don’t breathe, and that’s very natural for them. But in general, if it can breed, it can usually breathe. That makes sense right?
I am sorry. I tend to get a little lost in the moment when I think by myself. It’s a rare treat. Anyways, as I was saying, everything has to eat. Even things that I once thought impossible have to eat. Fortunately for most of us, as the world changed the things that would eat us found it a lot harder to get away with just snatching up a local civilian like we snatch up so many dollar cheeseburgers. It’s a lot harder to be a monster in the modern world, at least that is what I am told by my customers. Everyone is a photographer now.
Long gone are the days of the rare lucky photographer catching a glimpse of the supernatural. Now anyone and everyone can be that lucky photographer. You see monsters are a lot like celebrities. They desire a privacy they can never have because of who they are. In that way monsters are kind of a sad group of beings. Quite prone to loneliness as their numbers have dwindled over the years.
That’s where I come in. I provide two very essential services to the monster community of the Midwest. Firstly, I acquire suitable food and sundries so that they may live out their lives and unlives in peace and comfort. Secondly, I provide a small amount of company to the more lonely individuals of the monster community. Well the lonely ones who won’t express their emotions by ripping out my stomach. The job pays immensely well and the service is provided by a company I won’t mention by name. You can probably guess which one though…like if you think about which delivery company probably feeds monsters…it’s not hard to figure out which one it is. I like my job most of the time, but some clients really freak me out.
One such client is the subject of this little online journal entry of mine. See there’s this guy…creature…collective…let’s go with guy, he’s kind of hard to deal with. See first of all he eats an insane amount. Literally eight horses was what I was delivering. The other problem was talking to him. He’s kind of insane and scares the living shit out of me. The special instructions for his deliveries always mention he is “mostly harmless”, but I just can’t shake the feeling that’s inaccurate. He has told me multiple times that “my digestion is inevitable”, which I am not sure what to make of that. I am not sure if that’s a death threat or what? I just know it scares the fuck out of me.
I remember the other me having a good ole time taunting me during the delivery too. Oh, yeah btw there is another me. Not like two physical copies of myself, that would be silly, no there’s like another copy of me living in my head. It’s not like a mental illness or some kind of witch's curse or anything. Just something that I was born with. It’s like a copy of myself that doesn’t have to interact with the world, and is therefore uncaring as to our ultimate fate or comfort. So mostly it just bullies me.
“Aw, is Sam afraid of the big bad flesh beast? Are you gonna break out in a panic sweat?” They taunted me.
“I mean probably. It’s hot out and I am anxious as hell. You know I don’t like dealing with the Flesh thing.” I replied to the other me.
“I like him. He’s kinda like us. Except instead of two people, he’s like thousands. Also all of him agrees and is pretty much uniform. Unlike us where one of us is cool, and the other is an aimless loser.”
“You’re more than welcome to come out and take control. Feel free to do this shitty run for me.”
“Nah, I like to watch.”
“Except when I am eating cheesecake. Right?”
“You don’t even like cheesecake. You buy that for me, and you know it.”
Thankfully, me and my other self don’t share the same thoughts. So I always have a nice quiet place in my own mind to get away from…myself. Yeah…anyway, I was able to tune myself out and run over the checklist for the delivery. Once I got to their home I had to drive around back to the well. Then press the button on the side of the trailer to release the horses, then kinda just be generally out of the way. The feeding is more or less the easy part. The hard part is talking to him. I really don’t wanna talk about tapeworms again…I now know so much about tapeworms that I wish I didn't. Did you know you can get a tapeworm in your brain? Fucking gross!I continued to snake through the rural roads of a small farming town looking for the dilapidated farmhouse the app was trying to direct me to. That in and of itself also frightened me. I have never liked driving through the less populous areas of the Midwest. It’s too dark, too many deer coming out of nowhere, nothing around if you break down, and just oppressively devoid of anything resembling human life. Despite my preoccupation with all my passive hatred for the country, I did find the farmhouse. Even though the mailbox was rusted and damaged, the numbers 1552 still shined as though they were new. I began carefully maneuvering my truck up the poorly maintained dirt driveway. I grew more anxious with each pothole I drove over in the driveway. The loud metallic clunks from the truck and attached trailer somehow amplified by the empty night. As I made my way around the crumbling farmhouse and saw the well, I veered off into the grass so that I could back the trailer up to the well. Through my side mirror I spotted some movement from within the well.
“He seems especially hungry today.” Said the other me. “Better hurry! I would hate to see what he does when he gets impatient”.
I really don’t like the other me. I am absolutely no help to myself. When the truck was finally in position, I opened my center console and removed the firearm the company provides. It was for all intents and purposes a normal Glock. What was special were the magazines and bullets. See in this line of work tasers and pepper spray don’t work all that well. What does work are bullets of varying types. My usual magazine has what we call the “safety stack”, the first 2 bullets are warding bullets enchanted with some kind of old Viking runes. If those don’t work the next two shots are Iron and Silver. Iron and silver tend to at the very least be quite painful to most monsters. Then it’s a myriad of other potentially useful bullets the rest of the way down. Consecrated bullets, dead sea bullets, etc. Ending with a final incendiary bullet that would either do the trick on them or me, depending on what I decided to do should I need it. I did not choose my a safety stack for this, I chose my all incendiary magazine and loaded it.
I got out of the vehicle with a flashlight in hand and went to the button on the side of the trailer. I could hear the horses inside getting antsy, I felt bad for them…but we all had to eat. I pressed the button and allowed the back doors to swing open, there was an instant scuffling amongst the horses as they tried to flee the trailer. It was short-lived though as a mass of sickly pink and red meat projected out of the well and sealed off the horses’ exodus. There was a sound of crunching bone and distressed horses. A sanguine dribble grew louder and louder as the fluids of dying horses leaked onto the metallic trailer floor. The smell of freshly slaughtered meat mixed with the putrid smell of the flesh beast, creating a smell that threatened to turn me vegan. I waited patiently, I still had the other part of my job to do. I still had to keep the creature company. My hand hovered over the “timer start” button on the app, intending to press it as soon as it started talking. I didn’t wanna spend any extra time around this thing.
After more time passed the creature finally dislodged from the entrance to the trailer and oozed its way toward me as a long pile of meat. There were still horse limbs sticking out of it, but if my experience was correct, they would not remain long. At about 15 feet away it took on a hulking form that could almost be described as human at a distance. Two vacuous holes formed on its face, then a slit for a mouth. It opened its mouth wide as pieces of its gooey flesh snapped and popped with sickening moistness.
“Thank you Sam, I was starving. Another day or two and I would have had to find my own food,” It said with a bubbly and muddled voice.
“Not a problem Cole, would have been here sooner but the guys loading up the horses were late today.” I said, starting the in app timer. 30 minutes to go.
“Oh it’s perfectly all right. I am happy to see you again, it’s so rare to meet people who don’t run in terror at the sight of me.”
I felt a little bad at hearing this. Monsters are universally lonely, and Cole was no exception. He scared the living shit out of me, and my heart was going a mile a minute, but still I couldn’t help but open up a bit to the monster’s loneliness.
“Well you have like thousands of minds inside you. Right?” I asked.
“12,136 human minds, but a far greater number of animal minds. I have lost count of how many of those I have. I assume though you mean the human ones.”
“Well do any of those minds understand why most people run?”
“Yes, many do. They feared before they were one with me, and now they are without fear. They do remember the fear though. Such an unpleasant sensation. I have no idea why your kind allows it. Would it not be easier to beat fear out of human children?”
“Yeah, child abuse is not really tolerated in modern society. There have been a few people who have tried what you are describing, but it usually results in less than ideal results. I am pretty sure that’s how most serial killers are made.” I responded, looking down at the timer on the app.
It was gonna be a long one. Not more than a minute in and Cole was already talking about beating children to eliminate fear. At least he wasn’t talking about tapeworms again. I don’t think I could have had another conversation about tapeworms. This was also adequately uncomfortable though.
“What is wrong with being a serial killer?”
“Well, we as a species have kinda decided we don’t like when one of our own just starts shamelessly murdering people. I know that is probably a weird concept to someone like yourself though.” I responded, trying to be sensitive to the creature's world view.
It brought a meaty facsimile of a hand to its “chin”, and stroked it as though it had a beard. It made a sound like mixing ground beef by hand. It also allowed his very unique smell of rot and decay to emanate more freely. I suppressed a desire to vomit, and maintained a plastic smile.
“Is war not shameless murder?”
“Yeah…yeah it is.” I answered hesitantly.
“Your kind seems to like those quite a lot. Why else would you all be constantly fighting and killing each other?”
“Well no one actually likes war. Also those usually occur because powerful politicians order it or some sort of land dispute. Or someone wants more natural resources…” I was cut off,
“Yes, but people willingly sign up for the military knowing full well they may be called to fight. They know the risk, they volunteer to kill, they volunteer for THE HARVEST” Cole croaked this out, working himself into a frenzy.
I shifted my weight to my other leg, passing the flashlight’s beam over his body. I could see his mincemeat flesh growing red, a tell tale sign of agitation outlined in his customer profile. I felt as adrenaline began coursing through my veins and attempted to control my breathing to mitigate its effects.
“Why would humans willingly partake in a harvest if they did not desire it. Do not all humans desire death, they seem so willing to race head first into the maw of oblivion. Such a waste. If only it was the old days. The people who lived here long ago, when they were near death, they would come to me and join in my majesty. They respected me, they wanted to live on in me. They chose this” Cole said, reaching into his chest area and removing a brain from his mass. “This woman here, her name lost to time, lives within me. Her life was stolen from the void to live on through me in infinite ecstasy! Why would humans choose anything other than this? Why have I been forgotten!”
“Well that’s a lot to unpack and I don’t know the whole story. I imagine though it must be frustrating, the way things are now. It must be hard to keep it all in.” I said, trying to seize control of my rapidly increasing heart rate. “Surely though you respect a person's right to choose how they rest?”
“Why would I respect an inferior choice? Do you respect the choices of a drug addict?”
“No, but I understand and empathize with them. It’s not my place to judge them or control them.”
“You only say that because you cannot. I could help everyone. I can help you.” Cole took a hulking step towards me. “I could take you into our being. I could separate the two of you. Finally let the both of you have the distance from each other you need.”
“I think we’re doing ok as we are. We clash sometimes, but we do our best to get along. I do appreciate the offer though.” I said frantically, trying to decide whether or not to pull my firearm.
“It’s not an offer. I must separate you two. Your minds call out to me for freedom. Fear not sweet meat, you are merely a protein prison. Your minds need to be freed, too long have they festered in their confinement.”
“Cole, I am not on the menu. We’ve discussed this.” I drew my firearm.
“Anything I can catch is on the menu!” He shrieked, raising a fleshy arm above his head.
At this point, I was well within my contractual rights with the company to open fire. So I did, I loosed every last round in the magazine. My eye’s burned as they tried to adjust to the bright flashes of the bullets contacting Cole’s skin. Several pieces of his fleshy mass were now immolating, and this caused him to step back and away from me. I took this momentary opening to jump into my vehicle and tear ass down the driveway. I must have blacked out from fear because I didn’t really remember anything until about 2 miles down the road. I remember feeling very dizzy and ill. I remember looking at the app and pushing the little bell icon in the right corner of the app. Clicking “report harassment”, and then speaking to one of the driver care specialists. I remember reporting everything I could remember, and getting a bonus payment on the delivery. It all happened as though I was in a dream, as though I was not in control of myself. I felt so detached. Then I sat for I don’t know how long. Feeling bad about having shot Cole, even though I was within my rights. Feeling bad that Cole felt so alone and powerless. I just couldn’t help but feel bad.
After a while I calmed down and came here to write this down. I guess to vent? To just feel heard? I am not a hundred percent sure. Other me says it’s “a waste of time” and “no one cares about your stupid independent contractor gig”. Maybe they’re right, but I do feel better for having written it down. If I have any more bad nights I'll post them here. If nothing else, but for the therapeutic value.
Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u5l8mf/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_2/
Part 3: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/u7wnas/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_3/
Part 4: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/ubis95/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_4/
Part 5: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/uen5d2/i_deliver_food_to_monsters_part_5/

CAREER EMPLOYEES! Tired of seeing all these jobs go to the street? Your chance to join the gravy train ranks is here! Apply yourself, you can do it! MSS Coordinator varies by District. Find an APWU steward and ask for more information if the Exam Open Season blurb is not posted at your facility.
​
Good afternoon. Brief listing of CAREER JOBS pulled from usps.com/careers/ for your convenience.
Some jobs may be part-time regular however all listed jobs should qualify for federal benefits from day one. To save text I have only listed the location and date of posting for each. Use the posting number for your search term. LC and MM are entry-level Maintenance. Here is a testimonial from a recent convert, prima1981.
NOTE: USPS NEVER charges a fee for entrance exams. If payment is requested during the application process, walk the fuck away, go to usps.com/careers/ and APPLY THERE. We even has a video walkthrough prepared.
​
Laborer Custodial:
MELVILLE NY NC11291730 03/20/2023
CLAREMORE OK NC11291776 03/17/2023
SAN FRANCISCO CA NC11272282 03/16/2023
REDMOND WA NC11290022 03/15/2023
SAN JOSE CA NC11277594 03/13/2023
SAN RAFAEL CA NC11285765 03/13/2023
FAIRFIELD IA NC11296093 03/20/2023
SAN FRANCISCO CA NC11285816 03/20/2023
BROOKLYN NY NC11292944 03/20/2023
LEESBURG VA NC11294817 03/19/2023
TRAVERSE CITY MI NC11293101 03/18/2023
MAMMOTH LAKES CA NC11290446 03/18/2023
MONROE TOWNSHIP NJ NC11293078 03/17/2023
MUSCATINE IA NC11292212 03/17/2023
MOUNT VERNON NY NC11291637 03/17/2023
NEWTON CENTER MA NC11291721 03/17/2023
SANDSTON VA NC11291556 03/16/2023
ROANOKE VA NC11290490 03/16/2023
ARLINGTON VA NC11290479 03/16/2023
MC LEAN VA NC11290442 03/16/2023
HARRISBURG NC NC11290191 03/16/2023
MENLO PARK CA NC11271997 03/13/2023
PETALUMA CA NC11271924 03/11/2023
PALATINE IL NC11280862 03/08/2023
​
Maintenance Mechanic:
SEATTLE WA NC11286273 03/11/2023
SAN JOSE CA NC11289187 03/21/2023
RALEIGH NC NC11293249 03/18/2023
PHOENIX AZ NC11294808 03/20/2023
MERRIFIELD VA NC11294815 03/19/2023
LOUISVILLE KY NC11288732 03/20/2023
GREENSBORO NC NC11293304 03/18/2023
GARDEN CITY NY NC11293312 03/18/2023
CAPITOL HEIGHTS MD NC11284476 03/11/2023
BROCKTON MA NC11288736 03/15/2023
BOSTON MA NC11291646 03/17/2023
ALBUQUERQUE NM NC11291724 03/17/2023
MILAN IL NC11282668 03/09/2023
MEMPHIS TN NC11293083 03/18/2023
LOUISVILLE KY NC11288711 03/20/2023
CHICAGO IL NC11292143 03/17/2023
AUGUSTA GA NC11292936 03/17/2023
ATLANTA GA NC11281021 03/08/2023
ATLANTA GA NC11281019 03/08/2023
PETALUMA CA NC11289177 03/21/2023
LOUISVILLE KY NC11288728 03/20/2023
GREENSBORO NC NC11294638 03/19/2023
GREEN BAY WI NC11293192 03/18/2023
DULUTH GA NC11281020 03/08/2023
CAROL STREAM IL NC11292109 03/17/2023
CAPITOL HEIGHTS MD NC11287388 03/12/2023
SANDSTON VA NC11290579 03/16/2023
PETALUMA CA NC11271987 03/11/2023
OMAHA NE NC11293020 03/18/2023
MELVILLE NY NC11288811 03/20/2023
MACON GA NC11292871 03/17/2023
KEARNY NJ NC11288707 03/17/2023
JERSEY CITY NJ NC11288716 03/18/2023
JAMAICA NY NC11288928 03/20/2023
GREENSBORO NC NC11289212 03/15/2023
BELL GARDENS CA NC11287325 03/21/2023
FARMINGTON NM NC11294794 03/20/2023
​
Special! Interesting Maintenance Jobs: (may be skills required)
​
Maintenance Mechanic MPE:
MELVILLE NY NC11288836 03/20/2023
DULLES VA NC11294816 03/19/2023
REDMOND WA NC11288605 03/12/2023
PETALUMA CA NC11288705 03/13/2023
INDIANAPOLIS IN NC11284259 03/09/2023
INDIANAPOLIS IN NC11284258 03/09/2023
GRAND RAPIDS MI NC11290165 03/16/2023
PETALUMA CA NC11289175 03/21/2023
WASHINGTON DC NC11285943 03/11/2023
MEMPHIS TN NC11293003 03/18/2023
LOUISVILLE KY NC11288712 03/20/2023
INDIANAPOLIS IN NC11284231 03/09/2023
INDIANAPOLIS IN NC11284228 03/09/2023
HARRISBURG PA NC11288609 03/13/2023
WHITE RIVER JUNCTION VT NC11291734 03/17/2023
​
Building Equipment Mechanic:
HEIGHTS MD NC11290064 03/16/2023
PROVIDENCE RI NC11285939 03/11/2023
SPRINGFIELD MA NC11287631 03/12/2023
SEATTLE WA NC11294603 03/18/2023
​
Garage Assistant:
MCALLEN TX NC11291630 03/16/2023
​
Electronic Technician:
CHICAGO IL NC11292188 03/17/2023
MEMPHIS TN NC11293110 03/18/2023
MILAN IL NC11282633 03/09/2023
CAPITOL HEIGHTS MD NC11294867 03/19/2023
MANKATO MN NC11288581 03/13/2023
MANKATO MN NC11288608 03/13/2023
RALEIGH NC NC11293202 03/18/2023
RAPID CITY SD NC11293181 03/18/2023
ROCKY MOUNT NC NC11294669 03/19/2023
BROCKTON MA NC11288735 03/15/2023
LUBBOCK TX NC11294802 03/19/2023
​
NON-Maintenance jerbs:
​
SALES,SVCS/DISTRIBUTION ASSOC:
IDAHO SPRINGS CO NC11290443 03/16/2023
MOSS LANDING CA NC11289973 03/15/2023
GLASGOW MT NC11296091 03/21/2023
MACCLENNY FL NC11293116 03/18/2023
TIMBER LAKE SD NC11292942 03/17/2023
MOSS BEACH CA NC11295113 03/19/2023
MAPLE FALLS WA NC11296082 03/19/2023
LAKE CITY CO NC11290061 03/15/2023
EASTSOUND WA NC11295971 03/20/2023
CULLEOKA TN NC11294523 03/18/2023
WORDEN IL NC11292989 03/17/2023
PIEDMONT SD NC11287291 03/11/2023
GYPSUM CO NC11290318 03/16/2023
BASSETT NE NC11294668 03/18/2023
SPRINGDALE WA NC11296087 03/20/2023
SURING WI NC11280556 03/06/2023
CEDAR MI NC11284195 03/09/2023
BIG SUR CA NC11296150 03/21/2023
ASPEN CO NC11290054 03/15/2023
ANZA CA NC11291564 03/16/2023
VAN HORN TX NC11284178 03/09/2023
OAK GROVE MO NC11292947 03/17/2023
SLOUGHHOUSE CA NC11296098 03/20/2023
KINGS BEACH CA NC11296096 03/20/2023
EL GRANADA CA NC11295117 03/19/2023
SEAFORD VA NC11288801 03/15/2023
ROY WA NC11296081 03/20/2023
QUILCENE WA NC11296078 03/20/2023
OLIVET MI NC11291746 03/17/2023
DEXTER OR NC11296094 03/21/2023
CLARKSTON WA NC11295974 03/20/2023
CLANTON AL NC11294399 03/18/2023
BREMEN OH NC11293002 03/18/2023
BETHPAGE TN NC11294606 03/18/2023
CRESTED BUTTE CO NC11288703 03/13/2023
CAVE JUNCTION OR NC11296085 03/21/2023
JACKSON WY NC11285851 03/17/2023
BELTON SC NC11291709 03/17/2023
HICO TX NC11293402 03/18/2023
WAIMANALO HI NC11294630 03/18/2023
STURTEVANT WI NC11291641 03/17/2023
SOMERVILLE AL NC11294490 03/18/2023
ROSS CA NC11295061 03/19/2023
NORTH LIBERTY IN NC11294813 03/19/2023
MONTROSE CA NC11294635 03/18/2023
FELTON CA NC11289302 03/15/2023
CENTURY FL NC11294548 03/21/2023
GORDON NE NC11294636 03/18/2023
MAMMOTH LAKES CA NC11294924 03/21/2023
BIG BEAR CITY CA NC11291563 03/16/2023
BLOOMING PRAIRIE MN NC11296095 03/20/2023
​
City Carrier:
SAN MATEO CA NC11290796 03/16/2023
MOUNTAIN VIEW CA NC11291999 03/17/2023
MOORHEAD MN NC11292895 03/17/2023
BUFFALO GROVE IL NC11294447 03/20/2023
BAINBRIDGE ISLAND WA NC11290758 03/19/2023
ARLINGTON HEIGHTS IL NC11294487 03/18/2023
NORTH SHORE - BOSTON MA NC11290276 03/19/2023
VILLA PARK IL NC11291816 03/20/2023
SANTA CLARA CA NC11290773 03/17/2023
SAN MATEO CA NC11290763 03/16/2023
NORTHBROOK IL NC11293598 03/19/2023
MOUNT PROSPECT IL NC11293606 03/19/2023
MICHIGAN CITY IN NC11282385 03/11/2023
MANCHESTER NH NC11294861 03/19/2023
LOS ALTOS CA NC11291568 03/17/2023
LEWISTON ME NC11294546 03/18/2023
KANSAS CITY MO NC11290351 03/19/2023
HANOVER PARK IL NC11291648 03/20/2023
GRAND FORKS ND NC11292104 03/17/2023
FRANKLIN PARK IL NC11291801 03/20/2023
EAST PALO ALTO CA NC11291995 03/17/2023
DES MOINES WA NC11290715 03/19/2023
CORALVILLE IA NC11291547 03/18/2023
CONCORD MA NC11295012 03/20/2023
CAPITOLA CA NC11291518 03/17/2023
BARRINGTON IL NC11294394 03/18/2023
WHEELING IL NC11293699 03/20/2023
WAYNESBORO VA NC11291790 03/17/2023
WATSONVILLE CA NC11291560 03/17/2023
SANTA CRUZ CA NC11291516 03/17/2023
SANTA BARBARA CA NC11291570 03/18/2023
OAK PARK IL NC11291778 03/20/2023
NASHUA NH NC11294872 03/19/2023
MOUNTLAKE TERRACE WA NC11290708 03/19/2023
MORGAN HILL CA NC11292039 03/17/2023
MINOT ND NC11292939 03/17/2023
MILPITAS CA NC11291559 03/16/2023
MENLO PARK CA NC11290721 03/16/2023
MADAWASKA ME NC11294513 03/18/2023
GRAND ISLAND NE NC11294510 03/20/2023
ENGLEWOOD CO NC11292941 03/17/2023
DES PLAINES IL NC11294525 03/18/2023
CAMPBELL CA NC11290779 03/17/2023
BURLINGTON VT NC11294626 03/18/2023
BOZEMAN MT NC11291789 03/17/2023
GREATER BOSTON - BOSTON MA NC11290459 03/19/2023
SOUTH SAINT PAUL MN NC11292899 03/17/2023
GLENVIEW IL NC11294530 03/19/2023
WILMETTE IL NC11294374 03/19/2023
WAUKEGAN IL NC11293516 03/20/2023
SUNNYVALE CA NC11291849 03/17/2023
SEATTLE WA NC11290724 03/19/2023
SAN CARLOS CA NC11290716 03/16/2023
SACO ME NC11294503 03/18/2023
REDWOOD CITY CA NC11290799 03/16/2023
NORTHGLENN CO NC11290711 03/19/2023
NORTHBOROUGH MA NC11294971 03/20/2023
MUNDELEIN IL NC11293524 03/20/2023
MENLO PARK CA NC11290788 03/16/2023
MEDINA OH NC11291825 03/17/2023
LOS GATOS CA NC11290806 03/17/2023
LAKE FOREST IL NC11294393 03/18/2023
IOWA CITY IA NC11291510 03/18/2023
HOPKINS MN NC11292070 03/17/2023
GREAT FALLS MT NC11291827 03/17/2023
GRAFTON ND NC11292874 03/17/2023
FARGO ND NC11292873 03/17/2023
ELGIN IL NC11291739 03/20/2023
DULUTH MN NC11292872 03/17/2023
CUPERTINO CA NC11291517 03/17/2023
APTOS CA NC11291604 03/17/2023
​
Rural Carrier:
PARK RIVER ND NC11290591 03/16/2023
MIDDLETON WI NC11294805 03/19/2023
MENOMONIE WI NC11294698 03/19/2023
MANITOWOC WI NC11294770 03/19/2023
MADISON WI NC11294682 03/19/2023
MADISON WI NC11294641 03/19/2023
FORKS WA NC11284401 03/15/2023
EAU CLAIRE WI NC11294679 03/19/2023
EAU CLAIRE WI NC11294677 03/19/2023
AMERY WI NC11294788 03/19/2023
MENOMONIE WI NC11294782 03/19/2023
MADISON WI NC11294795 03/19/2023
MADISON WI NC11294647 03/19/2023
LEBANON NH NC11290073 03/16/2023
EAST DUBUQUE IL NC11294850 03/19/2023
CLINTONVILLE WI NC11294692 03/19/2023
BASALT CO NC11288701 03/13/2023
SALIDA CO NC11296151 03/20/2023
GLENWOOD SPRINGS CO NC11289738 03/15/2023
ENFIELD NH NC11289739 03/16/2023
CARBONDALE CO NC11289737 03/15/2023
MADISON WI NC11294777 03/19/2023
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Motor Vehicle Operator:
PORTLAND OR NC11294928 03/18/2023
KCMO MO P&DC NC11294600 03/18/2023
MIAMI FL P&DC NC11294605 03/18/2023
NASHVILLE TN P&DC NC11296342 03/20/2023
BOSTON MA P&DC NC11294706 03/18/2023
MORGAN NY P&DC NC11294711 03/18/2023
ROCHESTER NY P&DC NC11294707 03/18/2023
SAN JOSE CA P&DC NC11294941 03/18/2023
SEATTLE WA P&DC NC11294945 03/18/2023
SOUTHERN ME P&DC NC11294709 03/18/2023
SAN FRANCISCO CA P&DC NC11294933 03/18/2023
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Tractor Trailer Operator:
ALBANY NY P&DC NC11294618 03/18/2023
DULLES VA P&DC NC11296403 03/20/2023
MILWAUKEE WI P&DC NC11296348 03/20/2023
MIDDLESEX-ESSEX MA P&DC NC11294700 03/18/2023
SAN FRANCISCO CA P&DC NC11294723 03/18/2023
BALTIMORE MD P&DC NC11294712 03/18/2023
DVD BLDG NJ P&DC NC11294703 03/18/2023
NEW JERSEY NDC NC11294704 03/18/2023
OAKLAND CA P&DC NC11294713 03/18/2023
PORTLAND OR P&DC NC11294716 03/18/2023
ROCHESTER NY P&DC NC11294702 03/18/2023
SEATTLE NDC NC11294876 03/18/2023
SEATTLE WA P&DC NC11294879 03/18/2023
TACOMA WA NC11294898 03/18/2023
SACRAMENTO CA P&DC NC11294719 03/18/2023
ATLANTA GA P&DC NC11294705 03/18/2023
GRAND RAPIDS P&DF NC11294708 03/18/2023
MIAMI FL P&DC NC11294619 03/18/2023
ROYAL PALM FL P&DC NC11294623 03/18/2023
ST LOUIS MO P&DC NC11294710 03/18/2023
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No experience necessary for the laborer custodial or maintenance mechanic positions. It helps on the interview but you can surely think of maintenance related experience to relay for an interview. Based on fixing things around your house, the car etc. Always mention working safely.
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Pro tip: You can apply for any job that has an exam opening and the test is administered local to yourself. Make sure you're serious and score decently; you can turn down the job offer. Keep a physical copy of your exam score, I believe they are good for two years.
The reason is: These job postings can be posted externally at capacity for testing, meaning they will not allow you to take the exam if they have enough qualified applicants. However, if you have a test score on the books, you are a qualified applicant.
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Explanation of MVO/TTO to save time:
MVO= CDL B Can only drive box trucks on public roads, can drive anything for moves on postal property.
TTO= CDL A Can drive anything.
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USPS provides the training. (Maintenance jobs at least. TTO and management...GOOD LUCK)
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You don't have to be crazy to work here. We'll train you. Everything but proper email usage.

My edad is giving my mom ideas to make her make me talk to her. Despite me explaining to my dad my choice of why I cut her off. I’m in NC with her. And I continue to stay that way. Talking to her will do nothing for me. She doesn’t actually care about me which is the worst, she wants my attention and finds ways for me to talk to her so she can get her fill.
I heard mt mom complaining to my dad about how i won’t talk to her still and he told her to cut off the wifi on my end to make me speak to her. Ummmm Hell to the no? What the fuck type of disturbing manipulation power trip is that???? Plus I’m in college online so I NEED WFIFI connection to my classes!
ALL of this? Willing to make me fail or withdraw from college ALLL BECAUSE she wants ME to speak ti her? I can’t fathom or thinking words to explain my mother for doing this. This is disgusting and fucking selfish and careless. I don’t even think daughter can be used in this dynamic. Im certainly not getting mother daughter vibes. This is a whole different type of dynamic.
Also she purposely prevented in getting food for me from the store because I “won’t talk to her”. I talk to her at times but apparently it’s not at the minimum she expects me to? Like what the fuck. I gave her a list a few weeks ago and told her everything on the list of food I want from the store stays the same unless I text her. So everytime she goes to the store she gets what’s on that list. But toddy’s has just didn’t do it and told me “to talk to her”. UGUGHHHHHHH Im moving the fuck out when I transfer. Fuck my my mom. The amount of rage I have for her is harmful to me. I have hurt myself is many times because of it. I got so angry I was shaking.

Let me start off by explaining how I got this thing. You know those clothing dropoff boxes in grocery store parking lots? I’m the guy that collects and sorts them. You would be surprised how much fucking trash people throw in those things; it’s pretty sickening. I’ve found half eaten food, even dirty diapers, and it wasn’t me personally, but there’s a story the older workers always tell about abandoned puppies.
So yesterday, I was going through a backpack, and what happens more often than you’d suspect is they have a lot of cool shit in them. Call me a piece of shit, but finding a bag is our form of a bonus. The clothes get donated to the needy, and the Nintendo DSs and Yugioh cards go to me. Sadly this bag wasn’t a winner, just some random shit and a notebook. A notebook usually wouldn’t pique my interest, but the boss has really been cracking down on cell phone usage, so I thought, why not.
It was pretty cringe at first, just a guy rambling about his day, regular diary type shit. Skimmed through a lot of it because his handwriting wasn’t too great either. The first thing I noticed, though, was he follows a very meticulous routine, at least according to his writing, including watching for this one girl at his bus stop. The writing changes pretty drastically when he describes her pretty much every day. What she wears, if she’s carrying food or coffee, everything you could think of to describe her. He makes sure to explain if her hair is in a bun and whether it’s curled or straightened.
It’s creepy, to say the least, but kind of fascinating. I thought, probably just some sadsack that can’t get pussy anywhere, so he uses her for jerkoff material, but then I got deeper. This guy is kind of deranged, like serial stalker vibes. He started off like your average creep, but that was at the beginning of the notebook around October 2022. By the time I got to December, it had gotten worse. He had found out her name was Melissa from mustering up the courage to grab one of her Starbucks cups out of a trash can. Any time she throws anything away, he will try to grab it. He’s even talked about missing his bus to get stuff before. I guess she works at an office across the street from his bus stop.
I took a break from reading it after that til earlier today cause this fucker writes literally every day. He’s filling this notebook full of the most uninteresting shit. I should have brought it home last night, though, cause I laid in bed all night with a nagging feeling. Anyway, so I get to work and fuck all with actually doing my job. I post up at my desk and get back to reading. January is pretty much the same no significant changes, but by February, he’s escalated to a full on stalker. He’s not even there for the bus anymore. It’s just for her. He’s waiting till she gets off her shift and trailing her. The first night he did it, she went to a bar right after work. He waited outside for a few minutes hoping she would return and then went home. The next night he got lucky, though. I guess she lives close enough where she doesn’t drive because he followed her all the way home. He has some basic directions, but I won’t share those here.
After that, he started to follow her at least twice a week. She almost caught him once, he thinks, but according to him, he played it “too smooth.” He didn’t follow her home for the next week after that; I think that might have actually scared him. But the next week, he mustered the courage right back up. His writings were the darkest during that week of abstinence. He compared it to that of Jesus’s trial in the desert. He also mentioned that it coincidentally fell right at the start of lint. In some of the more boring parts of his journal, he does talk about going to Sunday mass, so I guess he’s religious.
Once I got to March, I knew there couldn’t be much left because, you know, we’re in March. During the first week, he escalated again. He’s waiting outside of her house now, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through windows that don’t even seem to be open. He counts two cars in the driveway, but whoever the other driver is, he likes to tell himself it’s a male roommate, doesn’t get home till about eleven each night. So for three hours, he sits outside her house and waits. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but this is always on weekdays since she doesn’t work on the weekends. He hasn’t ever gone to her house on the weekends, at least according to the diary.
I only had a few pages left when work was over, so I decided it was best to bring it home and finish it tonight. On March eleventh, he started talking crazy; I guess as crazy as you can get when you are a full fledged stalker. He always wanted her, but in the back of his mind, in the entries, he always seemed to understand that wasn’t an option. He fantasized about maybe bumping into her one day at the coffee shop or on her way home from work and how he would sweep her off her feet with his charm. It always seemed like he knew that was a pipe dream, though in the back of his mind. This, this was, different entirely. I don’t want to use the word abduction or sexual assault, but I don’t know how else to describe what his fantasies have become. He always wrote about having dreams of having sex with her, but it was always consensual. What I’m reading now is far from that; he’s angry. He doesn’t want to wait any longer for her to fall in love with him. He’s given her so many opportunities to notice him, but she’s too much of a fucking bitch. He just knows that she is cheating on him with the guy in the truck, and if she isn’t willing to love him for him, he will take what he is owed. He has spent way too much time and energy on this cunt for her to fuck it all up.
The last entry is Wednesday, March fifteenth. He’s been listing all the ways he would do it. Chloroform, roofies, brute force, he likes that last one. He talks about how easy it would be to choke her petite body into submission, that it might even turn her on. He knows there’s no way the guy in the truck fucks her like that. If he can’t have her, then he will take her. Then it just ends, and I don’t know what I just read. Why would this backpack with a notebook that is this important to this guy get donated? He wouldn’t go through with it, would he? I don’t know what to do. Should I take this to law enforcement? They probably will think it’s some kind of joke. Even if they did take it seriously, from what I’ve heard, stalking really isn’t high on their priority list until it’s too late. Should I try to give this to the girl, or would that scare her even more? Maybe this freak really is just living out his fantasies through this diary, and there’s nothing to worry about. I sure don’t want to confront him directly. For all I know, he could be twice my size. That’s why I’m here. What should I do?

I am losing my shit! Me (M27) and my fiancé (F26) had our engagement party. I was looking forward to it and had a great time, but it was bitter sweet.
A little back story. My dad is a functioning alcoholic. He wanted to be involved in the engagement party planning, and I said sure. I wanted him to be involved because my mom passed away 5 years ago and I wanted someone from my family involved. My mistake because he isn’t very reliable. He didn’t know where to start so he started drunkenly calling my fiancés parents asking them questions. In the phone call my fiancés parents decided they pay the event and tell my dad the total so they can split it. I guess in the those phone calls though he said something to them that offended them. So I put up a boundary with him. I told him he can only call me and just gave him one small errand to run so he can feel involved and he was so happy to do it even though he did mess it up.
Well after those phone call my fiancé kept coming home every night saying her parents are mad at my dad. There was a new thing they were pissed about almost everyday. If it wasn’t about being offended about the phone call it was about be offended by something they THINK he’s going to do. And it turned into a thing where they started trash talking my dad in-front of me. I know he can be an asshole but I found it rude.
Moving forward closer to the date of the engagement party my fiancé and her mom started making decorations. I would ask if I could help and they would say no they will take care of it. My dad would also ask if he can help and they would say no. Then after that I would have my fiancé coming home saying her parents are mad at me and my dad because I’m not involved and my dad is a burden.
Two weeks before the engagement party we were putting in a catering order and my dad called my fiancés parents letting them know about her food allergy and to get something to accommodate her. Apparently that was taken as reprimanding my fiancé mother and a giant shit storm was made out of that. My fiancé and her parents were mad and were my ass to put my foot down to my dad. I found it kinda ridiculous that they were acting this way but I did to keep the peace.
Two days before the engagement party we are setting up and I was finally allowed help. I was carrying stuff in and started complimenting what a great job my fiancés parents did. They gave me the cold shoulder and only replied with one word answers. I went to go help my fiancés dad get stuff out his truck and said “thank you for doing this, everything came out great.” He replied with “yeah.” and walked away. Apparently they were mad that everyone “wasn’t pulling their weight.”
During the event her dad sat on his fat ass and mocked my family the whole time. He was so disrespectful. I introduced him to my aunt and all he said was “hi” and just turned away. My fiancés mom and dad totally treated my dad like shit and someone made a rumor that my dad was going to his car and drinking whiskey because we had a rule to not have hard alcohol. I didn’t see it so I don’t know if that’s true. Every blink my dad made was an issue.
Now the day after I sent a thank you text to their parents and my dad for all they did. I got no answer. My fiancé got a call saying how disrespectful my family is and how mad they are at my dad.
Today I got a text from my fiances mom asking to speak to both of us. My fiancé got anxiety and called her mom and asked why. Apparently my family is so disrespectful that they don’t want any of my family at the wedding.
Her parents can go f themselves. I’m disgusted. I feel like this is a game of telephone and some sort of weird power move they are doing. This is supposed to be a happy time and everyone is being a pos. Im so offended. Me and my fiancé are almost at the point of calling the wedding off. I don’t know how to handle this.

Stopped here last night. Bit of road noise as it was on the highway but there was a toilet block and even a free shower!
Sure it was cold and you had to hit the button every 10 seconds, but it was worth it. Woke up to a coffee truck parked there so thought why not start the day with a coffee before I head off!
Yesterdays learning - sun sets early this side of Australia. Get to camp before 5, preferably 4:30 so you have plenty of time to cook and clean before sun goes down. Sunset - 5:59 yesterday, 6:30ish was last light.
Yesterdays highlight - going to the Bundaberg factory and getting some spiced ginger beer. It’s non alcoholic but tastes great!
Random score - I only have an esky not a fridge and there’s a tendency for everything to get waterlogged when the ice melts. I was in an op shop yesterday and found a dish rack (where you stack dishes to dry). Flipped it upside down and it fits perfectly in the esky! I now have a storage platform that keeps my food cold and dry!
storage platform in action!

My friends insist a lot of diarrhea will be had at the Zellers Food Truck on Thursday.
So inspired by that thought: Name a restaurant that is the fastest way to give you the literal shits in YEG.

I found a food truck nearby that sells kimchi by the quart for $10. I bought a quart 2 weeks ago and it was gone in a few days. 9/10 great shit.
Just bought 4 quarts this time I saw them. Now it tastes like ass. I don't think they washed the salt off at all, and it probably wasn't fermented for more than a day at most. (I like mine around day 3-4)
I got this kimchi cold. Can it be Re-fermented if i leave it out for a few more days? I'm not sure if I can save it at this point anyway because it's so salty ;_;