u/UncleCoyote

We argued, we fought, you simply pulled away.

Jaw set, tight lipped, nothing more to say.

 

We walked in silence through the market, a couple on the ledge,

I try to apologize, admit my wrongs, and pull us from the edge.

Cold shoulder, no reply, your eyes turned away in scorn,

A few rows down, I spot salvation, an idea within me born.

 

I leave your side to grab my prize, as clever as a fox.

A trinket; a bauble to catch your eye, redemption in a box.

 

Victory in hand, I return to you, seeking through the crowd,

I spot your coat, your cloche hat, and return to you so proud.

 

On one knee, theatrically, I loudly profess my love,

It's not marriage I seek, but forgiveness, looming from above.

 

I make a scene, comically, loud for all to hear.

I grovel at your feet, admit my faults, in a voice so loud and clear.

 

You quickly pull your hand away, but I hold fast and beg,

Scream my devotion, beg for mercy, clinging to your leg.

 

Laughter erupts, confusion whispers, the crowd is quite enrapt,

You have no choice, you must forgive, amidst this witnessed trap.

 

I beg and plead, I ham it up, your hand I repeatedly kiss,

My penitent lips press your wrinkled skin...wait, something is amiss.

I squint my eyes, up at you, silhouetted by the sun,

And realize that while your coat and hat remain the same, you are not the one.

 

I search the crowd, confusion grows and then I see your face,

Where moments ago anger dwelled, humor has found its place.

 

I quickly stand, release her hand, setting the knickknack upon a nearby table,

I loved you once, but I think we're done;  …I just proposed to Mabel.

This winter, I took some road ice from the top of a big rig. It blew off in a huge sheet of solid ice that flew high into the air and exploded in front of me.

Cracked the passenger fog light housing, blew chunks out of the lower grill, and pushed in the driver's side fog lamp - somehow without breaking the housing.

It's been too cold and wet and miserable to fix her, but I got around to it this weekend.

What. The HELL.

So many plastic rivets and pop-rivets. I had to remove the entire under bumper and engine guard, and then to get the lamps swapped out, it took twisting and angling, and EVERYTHING is just held on with flimsy plastic tabs. If you break one, you'd need to get the whole front end/body replaced. What a pain in the ass horrible design.

Baby no longer has a black eye, and she's back to being beautiful, but holy HELL what a pain in the ass repair. I hope I never blow a fog light, because I'd rather have them off than do that again.

We grew up poor in Syracuse, so Pilgrim hot dogs were all we would ever get. Not Heidi's which was LUXURY, not Oscar Meyer, not even Bar-S. Pilgrim.

Bright red, suspiciously cheap, don't even THINK of eating them uncooked, Pilgrim hotdogs.

Grill them - yes. Please. Pan Fry....and you risk too high a heat and having them schluff off skin and weirdly melt and burn in the pan. Boil them and the water turned shark-attack red and if it cooled it got weirdly thick. Plus? You could SEE why they dyed them "don't eat this" red, because they'd turn this sickly, lifeless grey and you'd see all the fillers and toe-nails and saw dust and bits of careless worker that they probably used in the making of them...

But holy hell did I love them, and wish they didn't go out of business. Were they good for you? No. Were they made with with the best ingredients? Also, no.

Were they delicious? My cancerous hump and second creepy face they caused me to grow be damned - YES. Yes they were.

I am the only one in my family who remembers them fondly. Anyone else?

(Oldie, but one of my favorites. Sorry if this is a retelling, but jokes are well, retold)

The King's new Queen, in the most scientific of terms, was gifted with a huge set of bodacious Tatas, and every man who worked in the castle was in awe of them.

The problem was, she was the Queen, and so much as looking at her, or dropping your gaze to her glorious attributes was a severely punishable offense.

"I would pay anything just to lick'em." A local scoundrel known for being something of a rogue and grifter sighed to the innkeeper, getting shushed for his efforts.

"Keep it down." The barkeep chastised, turning his back on the man. "You'll get us both killed." He murmured walking away, leaving the lusty scoundrel to his drink.

"Anything?" The old man who ran the local apothecary asked from down the bar. Times were tough and his potions and brews hadn't been selling well.

Recognizing the old man, the grifter smiled and joined him for a drink. "Anything." He sighed, jiggling a bag nearly bursting with coin.

The old man looked at the pouch and leaned in. "I work in the castle." He confided. "I have access to her room. For 500 gold, I'll add a powder to her brassiere - when she puts it on, her breasts will itch and itch and itch. Nothing will stop it, and it'll be torment for her."

The grifter laughed. "How's that help me old man?" He snarked.

"I'll tell them that it's a curse, but I know of a man with rare enzymes in his saliva - only his spit, applied through licking and sucking, can cure her. I'll give you a potion - and you drink it, and it will neutralize the itch. Hell, they might even pay you to do the thing you're fantasizing about."

The grifter thought about it for a bit and nodded. "I don't believe you, but if you do it, and you get them to summon me, all 500 gold is yours."

Deal made, the old man kept his end of the bargain, and the next day, when summoned by the King, he told the story about the curse, and offered to bring the man.

Upon hearing this, the man was summoned - and to his utmost joy, he was employed, and paid a small sum, to lick, suck, and fondle the Queen's huge-tracts-of-land, until she felt better. He was celebrated, a feast was thrown in his honor and his name was proclaimed with joy throughout the land.

Several weeks later, he found himself in the pub, and was approached by the old man.

"How was it?" The old man smiled, and the grifter laughed loudly.

"They were perfect. It was HEAVENLY. They're going to knight me and the Queen has me licking and sucking every few days just in case her curse...comes back." He chuckles to the old man, loving his new life.

"Excellent." The old man grinned. "Now, for my 500 gold."

The grifter laughed. "For what?" He scoffed. "I got what I wanted, my reputation is far and wide, and if you tell on me, you'll be hanged for treason. I'm not paying you a scent you old buzzard, piss off." Turning his back to the old man, the grifter went back to drinking, and loving his new life.

Nodding once, the old man walked away without a word or argument.

The very next day, he took the rest of the powder and applied it to the inside crotch of every piece of the King's underwear.

I know both creative cloud and photoshop use firefly, but I never considered photoshop and creative cloud AS "AI Generated Content". To me, AI is taking a pic, slopping it through an online app and telling it what you want.

Photo manipulation is cutting, editing, layers, shading, bad cuts, blurred pixels frustration, triumph and hours of work. It feels like I truly created something. Yeah, firefly makes that a LOT easier, and is great for tweaks and changes, but do you consider the hours you put into it "AI Slop?"

It's currently an argument I'm having with my family, and a piece I did was met with an eyeroll and accusations of AI generation and the dismissal of "anyone can do this", by paying for a service that generates images.

I take a bit of offense because AI assisted tools and AI generation, to me at least, are night and day.

I'm curious of general consensus, as I stand by the hours of frustration vs "Grok, show me this" as almost insulting, but I want to know what people think. Is this still photo editing, even if it is outrageous and well done - or do I cop to AI generation, because technically the apps use AI assistance?