Tag: travel

Las Vegas sucks now, plain and simple

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Every time I come across posts or articles about the general downward trends of Las Vegas tourism, I just scoff and remind myself to hold my tongue and save it for the brog, because I think I’m in the minority now about my feelings and attitude about Las Vegas.

But as the subject of this post says, Las Vegas sucks now, and is a far cry from the place that I used to go to multiple times a year, and it makes me sad to see just how much it’s changed and how I just now have absolutely no desire to go back any time soon.  And like I said, I think I’m in the minority here, especially among my friends who all seem to think the place is still good, regardless of if they acknowledge the changes or not, and as to not be the Debbie Downer, I more often than not, keep my feelings unspoken since I don’t want to be accused of peeing in the pool.

But yeah, Las Vegas sucks now, and I fully understand why their tourism and revenues are trending downwards, and feel little opinion other than the euphemism that this is the bed they made, and they have to lay in it.

Sure, COVID had a lot to do with their state of collapse, as a city so reliant on tourism was absolutely decimated when the whole world was encouraged to stay put, but the whole city didn’t do themselves any favors once things started to return to normalcy.  It’s like the whole place went into this determined recoup-mode, and decided to up the cost of just about everything in sight in order to make up for lost dollars from the pandemic, and as often the case whenever any business raises costs to justify something, once that something has been justified, they grow so used the revenues that they make no attempt to revert or reduce, and as is the case with Vegas, they actually doubled down and kept increasing the cost of everything to further push people to see how much they can get away with.

See, the Vegas I remember and loved, it wasn’t $Fuck you.99 per night to stay anywhere on the Strip, and there weren’t Ticketmaster-amounts of resort fees every night.  Parking was often free, which justified getting a rental car so we didn’t have to get taxis everywhere, and could occasionally explore the city beyond the Strip.  Food, sure, had its upscale joints where you could feel like a baller, but there were also plenty of options where you could get a cheap meal or just enough to satiate hunger, and it not be an automatic $100+ bill.

Every resort had a buffet, and I can say that I’d been to almost all of them at various points of my life, from the Riviera’s, Aladdin’s, MGM’s, Mandalay Bay’s, and my guiltiest of pleasures was the Rio’s Carnival World Buffet, where on two different times, separated by years, I managed to get the same server who had this creepy, Igor-like demeanor, but was still nice and did his job well.  But, they’re all gone now, with to my knowledge, the only ones truly left and worth a damn, being like Caesar’s Palace, Bellagio and Cosmopolitan.

Drinks were plentiful, and thankfully is still the case, free as long as you’re gambling, but for when you weren’t blowing all your money away, a domestic beer didn’t cost $20 plus a tip.

Which brings us to gambling, where across the board, the cost to play has risen to where the last two times I went to Vegas, I was basically done after a single day’s gambling.  I used to be able to bring $500 in cash, and manage to have a pretty fun long weekend; I could be lucky enough to play with some house case from time to time, and when the trips were over, be able to come back with a little left.  Now, $500 can’t get me through a single day, which was almost literal when my last trip was just 24-hours, with gambling time being less than four of those hours.

Casinos hardly bother with fluctuating table minimums anymore, and the lowest on the Strip is like $15, which is a perfectly uneven number to where anyone who wants to play a hundo, has almost no possibly way of playing an exact amount at $15 a hand or spin of anything without having an embarrassing remainder, or need to buy back in, and it makes me think of the New York MTA and how their fares are mathematically strategized so that it’s almost impossible to zero out a fare card, and the city rakes in millions a year on forfeited remainders.

The bottom line is that Las Vegas has completely abandoned even remotely trying to cater to anyone that isn’t at the very least, upper class, or can at least pretend to be for the duration of a trip.  Middle-class and lower schmucks like me can no longer afford to go there comfortably, much less have a good time, when we’re being gauged left and right, having the city wishing they could charge us to breathe.

I’m of the belief that there’s way more money to be made in catering to everyone, and my favorite stories in business are always ones where companies have embarked on such strategies and have found immense amounts of success in doing such, like sports teams that lower their tickets, concessions and accessibility and then they make record profits.  Apps that are released for free, but then rake in millions on ad revenue and in-game micro-transactions.  Look at Wal-Mart, whose last time I checked was #1 on the Fortune 500 for the last 30 years, because they cater to the lower class, and they make fuck numbers of profits every year in doing so.

And Las Vegas turning their back to those under the upper class line, screams of elitism, catering to the wealthy and those arrogant enough to demand exclusivity, I enjoy reading and seeing things about how their numbers aren’t doing as hot as they probably wish they were doing.  I love reading comments full of shade and criticisms from people who feel similarly to how I do, abandoned and resentful, and pining for a Las Vegas that they once loved so much, they used to “joke” with their friends about exploring looking for a rental property.

Like I said, this is the bed that they made, and it’s what they have to lay in, and I hope that one day, Las Vegas can get back to closer to being the city I once loved and hopefully in time for me to have some more memorable trips with my friends and my family.

Hate to see it, but it’s not like it isn’t deserved

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

NBC: Fewer international tourists are visiting the United States; economic losses estimated to be ‘staggering’

Like the subject says, this is one of those things that most Americans probably wouldn’t like to see or know of, but at the same time, it’s not like it isn’t deserved, and I can only hope that there are more businesses whose owners and managers that voted for the dumbass orange turd in Washington are being affected by this over those who didn’t.

Like, America was no saint of a destination before dumbass orange turd took office again, but now that he is, I can’t imagine why anyone outside of the United States would have any real inkling of desire to visit it, save for experiences like, Disney World or Las Vegas.  But frankly, even those probably have better alternate options, like the numerous other Disney properties in Europe or Japan, and casinos in Macau or Italy.

I always go back to this particular story of how I came back from an international trip, and had a layover in JFK, and had to clear customs there before catching my next flight back to Atlanta.  I remember seeing these foreign tourists struggling immensely to get through customs because they spoke little-to-no English, and the customs agents were all salty New Yorkers who spoke nothing other than English and basically the faces of these tourists were miserable and scared, and I felt bad that this was basically how their trip was starting in the United States.

Meanwhile, mythical then-gf and I had gotten back from Germany or Korea or wherever we were, and the customs agents in all these places spoke English, weren’t miserable New Yorkers, and were by and not entirely unpleasant experiences getting past them to our destinations.  I remember when we got out of the airport in Munich, and there were already holiday booths and vendors and it was airy and pleasant, and compare that to walking out the door of JFK or any American airport, which is usually just a lot of unhinged drivers trying to pick people up, power-tripping security blowing whistles and screaming at people, and just a whole lot of ugliness, and I always wonder why anyone with a brain would actually want to visit the United States.

Furthermore, like the above photo shows, there’s a meme out there of all sorts of countries around the world, where people say they’re going to visit, when they’re really referring to small sections of each respective country; like all the weebs who say they’re going to Japan are really referring to Tokyo or Osaka, all Koreebs are really visiting Seoul when they say Korea, Paris to France, London to England, and frankly most Americans aren’t aware that Amsterdam is but a city in Holland and not the country itself.  The same applies to the United States, where most anyone from outside of it, when they say they’re coming to visit America, really is saying they’re visiting places like New York City, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Washington DC, or Disney World (obviously not Orlando).  Everywhere else is pretty much not America as far as the eyes of the average tourist goes.

All the same, as much as I hope nobody I know is affected by the financial windfall of dwindling tourism, it’s one of those scenarios where it’s smirk-worthy with that I told you so kind of vibe, that this was inevitable to happen with the current political regime that basically has told everyone else outside the country to fuck off, and them being surprised that nobody wants to come visit anymore.

It’s like if people are getting hurt by this development on account of shitty leadership, a lot of people have nobody to blame but themselves for voting for a leader who’s so racist and xenophobic and is the chief reason why tourism dollars are evaporating and that nobody wants to come visit America.  But at the same time, it’s not like this should be anything of a surprise, once our glorious leader kept flapping his gums about America’s so-called superiority, so I guess all I can really say at this point is, owned.

I feel like this was probably one big misinterpretation

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

DFP: Bomb threat on a Spirit Airlines flight in Detroit forces evacuation

I just want to start off with, I understand that bomb threats are no laughing matter, and good on all airline, airport, local and county personnel and authorities for doing the right thing and evacuating everyone and ensuring that all was green.

But I just feel like given the combination of circumstances, location, time, and nature of people who are flying Spirit Airlines, there’s probably some critical context missing from this story that probably leads to everything being one gigantic misunderstanding.

First of all, this happened in Detroit, which is one of the saddest and most depressing places in the country that I’d ever been to.  It’s a blue-collar place with a feeling of defiance of defeat in the actual city itself, and much like airports like Atlanta, Dulles, the airport is located way the fuck far away from the actual city proper and are the only things that stretch the city zone maps to retain the name.

Did you also know that Detroit has the highest concentration of Middle Eastern immigrants in the country?  This was news to me when I first was told this factoid, but then when I was on the prowl for as many Tim Horton’s locations as I could find, I found one inside of a Middle Eastern grocery store, and I realized such factoid was probably right.  Somewhere in this paragraph is the unfortunate stereotypical parallel between painting those of Middle Eastern descent or appearance with bomb threats on airplanes, and my mind assumes that this could’ve been one of those Harold and Kumar moments where someone might have seen a brown-skinned person on the plane and lost their shit, leading to this whole debacle.

Second, most everyone knows the jokes, memes and stereotypes that go along with Spirit Airlines.  I’ve flown with them more than I care to admit, because it’s hard to ignore a $97 RT versus a $397 RT on Southwest or Delta for a 90 minute flight, so I’m quite well aware of them myself on a first-hand experience.  Unruly, loud, hostile, and other pejoratives to describe the people who fly on Spirit Airlines, it wouldn’t be a far stretch to imagine the word “bomb” being muttered by any of these folks, regardless of the context, but as the FAA and TSA and whatever government agencies have conditioned us, bomb is bomb, and when the tragic word is whispered, shouted, muttered, uttered or screamed, all systems come to a halt, and the authorities are sent in.

Third, check the time of when the incident was reported – 7 am.  Which means that this flight was boarding at like 6:15 am, which means people have been at the airport since like 5 am or earlier, and I don’t care who you are, when you’re on that crack ass of dawn flight, there’s a way higher chance than normal that you’re not going to be in a good mood.  Now multiply that being in Detroit, and flying with Spirit Airlines, and you’ve got an entire aircraft full of extra ornery motherfuckers who are well past beyond edge, and somewhere along all these circumstances the word bomb popped out, and then all shit hit the fan.

Again, kudos to all those involved in security and operations for following protocol and ensuring the safety of everyone on the flight and in the airport.  But given all the moving parts and variables in this situation, I can’t help but feel like there probably is a whole lot of things that were taken out of context and lead to a wholly excessively unnecessary scenario.

Cute, but not accurate

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

OutKick: Tampa Bay Rays have their first rain delay in the franchise’s history, commemorative ponchos handed out to all 17 of their fans in attendance

I haven’t written much about baseball this season, but then again, I don’t really feel like I’ve written that much over the last few weeks but I digress.  But because a hurricane obliterated Tropicana Field, the dump of a venue that housed the Tampa Bay Rays, the team had been forced to play the entirety of their home games in the 2025 season, at of all places, the Yankees’ Spring Training facilities, Steinbrenner Field.

That being said, seeing as how the Trop was an indoor ballpark, and Steinbrenner Field is very much outdoor, it’s actually kind of amazing that it’s taken this long for the weather to come into play in Florida of all places, and the Rays to deal with a rain delay.  But for all intents and purposes, the franchise has declared it as the first rain delay in Rays history, and to commemorate the tongue-in-cheek occasion, all 17 fans in attendance were given commemorative ponchos, which is actually kind of cool and definitely clutch because rain at pretty much any other ballpark in the country is an instant cash-grab for the venues to be able to hawk overpriced trashbags and umbrellas on the bad luck of those not prepared for potential rain.

However, I’m going to piss on this little parade and go all well actually, because not only was this not the first time a Rays game has been delayed on account of the rain, I can actually say that I was there when it had happened.

It was in 2009, when I was still freelancing, and was having kind of a chill summer vacation on account of being in between assignments and coasting off of a giant payday I made from a project I had completed earlier in the year.  I had money, I had time, I had my Delta flight benefits, and I didn’t want to let the entire summer go by without capitalizing on my advantages at being able to tackle some baseball parks on my quest to visit all 30.

I got to Tampa Bay and basically went straight to the Trop since I didn’t have any time to tourist around like I normally like to do on my baseball trips.  I lucked into a paper World Series of a pitching matchup between Roy Halladay, then with the Blue Jays, and David Price, when he was still the man in St. Pete’s.  Long story short, the game went about six innings of a matchup as good as it was on paper, but unbeknownst to me, the skies had opened up and it was absolutely pouring outside the ceiling of the dome above me.

And then suddenly, there was an announcement over the PA system, and security started going onto the field, and players started coming off of it.  Apparently, on account of the weather, there was a power outage somewhere in the Trop, and despite the fact that nobody could tell where it was, the ballpark felt it prudent to stop the game until the technical difficulties could be resolved.

Despite the fact that the baseball game was being played indoors, the rain had affected something mechanically in the venue, and the venue chose to halt the game in order to fix it.  And there we have it, a rain delay – at an indoor park.

I have no idea if this was the first time that such had happened, but I’m going to assume probably not.  But the point remains is that just because rain isn’t pouring all over the players and fans doesn’t mean that a rain delay couldn’t not happen.  Perhaps if the Rays commemorated something not named the first-ever rain delay, it would be more accurate, but as cheeky as this little “celebration” was, it was very much not accurate.

I know this for fact, because I was there when it happened before, almost 15 years ago.  Shit, Jerome.

Astoria, Oregon and the birthday bucket list trip

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I could easily say that probably for half my life, I’ve always wanted to visit Astoria, Oregon, most prominently known as the prime filming location for one of my all-time favorite films ever, The Goonies.  But seeing as how I live in the southeastern United States, and Astoria is about as far northwestern as they come save for the state of Washington, such has always been somewhat of a logistical challenge.

Adding to the difficulty is the fact that frankly among the people in my life, nobody else has been interested in making this trip.  Mythical wife, nobody in my family, or any of my friends, really has had any desire to go to Oregon, much less Astoria, the small coastal town that’s 90 minutes away from Portland, the closest major airport to get there.  I almost managed to talk several of my friends into it a long time ago when a brother of mine got married in Olympia, Washington, but most of us got so smashed at the reception that we were too hung over to make the daytrip the following day.

So I decided that for my birthday this year, I was going to stop hoping other people would try and wow me with things that I don’t even know would do the job, and to just do something for myself, instead of having another birthday where I end up feeling droll and melancholy when the day winds down.  I decided to make the trip I’ve wanted to make basically my entire adult life, by myself.  I wouldn’t have to inconvenience anyone to make a trip they’re not fully in on with me, and I wouldn’t have to feel bad about any traveling companions’ feelings or preferences that might alter my own.

Months ago, I began my planning, and started making bookings in Oregon; where I was staying, a rental car, and booking an actual flight instead of trying to play the standby game for a trip that I really had my heart set on.  Originally, I had the idea of making the trip on my actual birthday weekend, but it just so happened that my birthday collided with Wrestlemania, and of all the things that could make me want to postpone, that was adequate enough. 

It was kind of surreal when my actual birthday came and went, and I was suddenly closing in on the trip that was definitely a bucket list trip for me.  It was finally happening, I was finally going to get to go to Astoria, and do the whole Goonies thing; see the Walsh home, which I had innately watched throughout the years go from being owned by a tyrant who hated Goonies fans, tarping up the whole place, to being flipped to a Goonies fan, who not only welcomed the fandom, has apparently made it a mission to restore the house to its 1985 camera-ready 80’s-tastic aesthetic. 

Go to the Astoria County Jail which is now the Oregon Film Museum, see the ORV that was always parked out front, and make the journey down to Cannon Beach, to see Haystack Rock, where the opening and closing scenes of the film took place.  And of course, while I’d be there, do some other, non-Goonies/film things like see the Astoria Column, the Astoria-Megler Bridge, and seek out new food and try local beers.

So I’m writing this while sitting in the terminal at PDX waiting for my redeye flight back to Atlanta, and I can say that by and large, the trip was a great success.  I got to do and see all the things that I had wanted to see, and although the weather was a bit on the nippy side while I was here, I planned for it adequately enough and it did not have much bearing on my experience.  I saw pretty much all of Astoria, which isn’t saying a tremendous amount as it is not a very large town by any stretch of the imagination, and there were times where I was like, well what now? because I had accomplished all of the few things I had wanted to accomplish, so I found solace in coffee, beer, relaxation in my hotel room with an entertaining book.

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The expansions of Erris Irand wounds my soul

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Look, I know and understand that the point of any business is to grow, improve, and make money.  And I genuinely am happy for ellis island • casino • hotel • brewery for continuing to grow, presumably making more money and gaining success and foothold in the crowded Las Vegas ecosphere, but this is definitely one of those old man, it’s straying away from the charming little shithole I once knew and loved things going on, and every time I check in with what I endearingly have always referred to Erris Irand, things continue to change and stray further and further away from Erris Irand and becoming a more, miniaturized little posh typical Vegas casino with less and less character and personality with each change.

It recently came to my attention that Erris Irand is embarking on another round of upgrades, and although I’m amused that they along with other businesses I remember fondly like Battista’s are suing the shit out of F1 for wrecking shop in the city I used to once really really love, and went to at least 2-3 times a year, it adds to the melancholy mood of things changing yet again, furthering it from the specific place that I would say that nobody loved more than my big orange brother and I did.

The photos they used was deceptive in making it look like there was the possibility of upward expansion, as in building a tower on top of the existing structure, but that’s just a silhouette of the hotel behind them that I frankly don’t remember what it was called or is called now.  But that’s the only real relief I get is knowing that they’re not going to (yet) turn into some posh, metrosexual named joint, much like Imperiar Parace and Bill’s and O’Shea have all done over the last decade or so.

And although the proposed upgrades are all purposeful, and will undoubtedly help boost business, revenue and general success for the business as a whole, it’s just so, so far gone past the little locals shithole that I first really discovered back in like 2006, that it wounds me in the soul to see just how much things have changed throughout the passage of time.

Like, when I first stepped into the place, the floors were hard oiled concrete, decades of cigarette ash, spilled booze and the dreams of degenerate gamblers ground into them by the footsteps of ornery locals, adventurous travelers and, degenerate gamblers.  The sirloin special was $6.99 and came with a $5 match play coupon for table games.  Metro Pizza was buy one get one on Sundays, applicable to a single slice or an entire pie.  Their excellent house beer was a dollar a pint, if you weren’t actively gambling, and that’s if the cougar-ey bartender even bothered to take it.  There were only a handful of table games, roulette was almost never going, and they barely had enough room for a half craps table, where there’s nowhere in the city where I fared better at, earning so much in one session that I was able to get a brand new replica wrestling blet.

For years, there wasn’t a single trip to Vegas without at least one trip to Erris Irand, where I ate well, gambled well, drank well, and spent many great hours with my brother and whichever of my friends could lower their noses to realize the charm of what Erris Irand was and represented.

Frankly, I’m the only person I know that has actually stayed in the attached Sleazy Super 8 motel, twice in fact, and I have no regrets in doing such.  From what I understand, it’s now not even a Super 8 brand, and is actually branded to the casino itself.

But as is the case, no good things truly last forever, and perception is the eye of the beholder, and as much as good is what the business perceived, the change was not good to me, but like I said, I understand the business aspect, and growth and expansion and change is inevitable in successful operations, and such was the case with Erris Irand.

The BBQ restaurant grew and blew up, the sportsbook turned into a respectable setup that wasn’t just a bunch of 19” screens inside of basically cubicles.  The brewery was opened up to the public, and more tables and more slots entered the establishment.  The floors were eventually cleaned and refinished and tiled, and the dim smoky ceiling lights were replaced with actual bright and welcoming lighting.

My last time at Erris Irand wasn’t that long ago, and after a few trips where mythical wife and my friends had no interest in going, I was by myself on this trip, and I literally took an Uber directly from McCarran to Erris Irand, because nothing was going to stop me from visiting my old friend on this trip.

And it was a surreal experience walking into the side entrance, where everything was different, the air didn’t reek as much of smoke.  The bathrooms were all posh and even had branded wallpaper and backdrops, inviting people to take selfies and be shitty millennials and shitty Gen-Z’ers.  The restaurant was without all the framed artwork of warships and pirate ships and infernos, and I had to wait an inconvenient amount of time for a shift change to occur despite the restaurant being kind of empty.

The sirloin special was still unlisted and available, but it was apparent that the kitchen isn’t used to making these as they once did, as my steak came out overcooked, but not inedible, but the magic wasn’t really there this time around.  The table limits were still fortunately lower than the rest of the Strip, but I didn’t have the time on this trip to come back despite the fact that I really wanted to, with my friend who had just gotten hitched by Elvis.

But now we’re deviating even further from that, with the next wave of expansions to implement rooftop access, so people can presumably look at the Total Rewards Group’s parking lot and training facility, unless there’s plans for something to take up the giant concrete lot between Koval and Audrie, for Erris Irand visitors to stare at being constructed over the next few years alternatively.

Like I said, a lot of old man things changing rambling going on here, so I’m going to stop here before I continue to write in circles like I tend to do sometimes about the things I’m passionate about.  I won’t not go to Erris Irand the next time my travels actually take me out to Vegas again, but honestly I’m kind of over the city as a whole lately, and I just don’t have the disposable funds available to finance the gambling I’d like to do, so it might be a while, but I imagine it’ll be yet another surreal experience of seeing just how much the place has changed. 

Here’s hoping they’ll still have the sirloin special and the best hefeweizen when that time comes, and that I don’t go broke in an hour like the rest of the Strip’s casinos had done to me my last time out there.

This is why I always have worry when I skip town

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Over the weekend, mythical wife and I went out of town.  It was a pleasant trip, in spite of the fact that one reason for going was a memorial, but it was still nice to see a close friend despite the circumstances.  The other was in part to a family member’s milestone birthday, and we had a nice little lunch to commemorate.  I spent a tremendous amount of time behind the wheels of cars, and in no help from the insufferably miserable traffic conditions of the Commonwealth of Virginia, and with each visit I make there, I grow more and more resentful of the whole goddamn place and look forward to leaving.

Anyway, we get back to Atlanta after taking the early flight out which meant we’ve been up since 4:30am, and I come to discover that while we were out of town, my microwave stopped working, my Keurig went kaput, and #1 has a death rattle of a cough going on.  I don’t blame anyone for any of these maladies occurring, but it just stinks when negative things occur not on my own watch, and it feeds the general anxiety I have about leaving my home, even though I desperately need breaks and time off.

It’s not that I could’ve done anything differently to prevent shit from breaking, and everyone in care of my home did more than they really had to in order to circumvent busted appliances, but all the same I went the rest of my Sunday back home in this hazy anxious state that feels regret for skipping town, regardless of the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to prevent anything differently.

My awesome mother-in-law already gifted us a new Keurig, which she obviously was under no obligation to do, but the busted microwave sucks, because I feel like I know what the problem is (magnetron) and the part itself is not expensive, but from what I’m researching, the general consensus is to get a repairman on the job, which seemed most likely the case to begin with because I have a built-in unit, and the magnetron is almost impossible for someone who doesn’t know what they’re looking for to access.

After just a few hours back home, and hearing my daughter coughing up a lung, I took her to urgent care in order to get some medications started.  Not that I hold any resentment over it, but such eats into the small reprieve from parenting I get in the day, which means I got no real break at all, despite my fatigue from getting up at ass o’clock.

And to top it off, the sink was full of crap, the dishwasher was never emptied, and I’m just already fried and frustrated with the constant feeling that I have to do fucking everything, and by virtue of not being present at home where I can usually stay on top of the bullshit minutiae and chores, I suffer the pain in the ass of having to do it all at once in order to feel caught up to things.

It’s like, I have a birthday coming up, and I am planning a little bit of solo travel during it, but all I really want, other than for everyone to be safe and my kids to be well taken care of it and remain healthy, is to not come home to a fucking disaster zone, like it seems to feel like every time I leave the house for any indeterminate amount of time.

There’s already a minimum tolerable state that my house fails to meet on a regular basis because I just get burnt out and throw in the towel at being the only person to give a fuck about the general cleanliness of my home, and it always goes to shit every time I leave the house, and nobody but me seems remotely concerned about it, and despite the fact that I’m deserving and entitled to getting breaks too, sometimes it doesn’t seem worth it if a shitshow is waiting for me when I get back, because then any sort of relaxation and good will built up from a break is immediately dunked on by having to resentfully fix everything that went to pot in my absence.

And this is why I sometimes feel like I should just never leave home, and it’s really a fucking shitty feeling to feel.