Verification Codes.
One-Time my ass, more like, repeated times. I’m so tired of verification codes up the ass these days. Just today, I had to reset my PayPal password. So that meant there was a code sent to an e-mail address after the reset process was set, to begin with. Then I had to go through the obstacle of verifying the information of the account. And then even after the password was reset, I’m sent ANOTHER freaking code right after!
And it’s even more frustrating to deal with, with my bank. I’ve gotten random verification checks for making internal transfers within my account. Things I’ve done without any issue. But just one day, I got THREE verification checks to do what I needed to do!
This verification shit has gotten out of hand! I want it to just die, just like captcha. Whatever purpose they originally were intended to do, is lost in translation, because now they’re just obstacles that wastes our time every minute we have to bother with them.
The stigma against weed and psychedelics. You would think that legalization would make people more tolerant, but I’m finding the opposite to be true, especially among Gen-Z. Even the Boomers—who used to spread lies like weed will kill you or acid would make you go insane—still enjoy their 5mg edibles. IDK what is going on with the kids; I’m happy that they choose to abstain, but leave us who do partake alone. Stop being so damn judgemental. I got tired of arguing with people about this subject 20 years ago.
I’m not against drugs at all, people can do as they please.
I did get into with a neighbor awhile back, he’d smoke on his balcony and the smoke and smell would rise up and flow right into my living room.
It wasn’t a huge issue, but when I asked if he’d smoke somewhere else and explained why, he lied to my face about it.
THEN, came to my door at 9pm that same day with his wife and teenage kids, wife telling me I shouldn’t accuse them of smoking and bitching me out whole he sheepishly stood behind her. At that point I was done and would call his ass out. Literally that same night I catch him smoking again at 1am and he’s like “naw, it’s not me”.
In this case it was the person, not the drugs, that turned out to be a piece of shit.