I donβt care if thereβs a microchip in the vaccine. Iβd let them put a whole MacBook Pro inside of me if it meant I could get drunk at Applebees again
I donβt care if thereβs a microchip in the vaccine. Iβd let them put a whole MacBook Pro inside of me if it meant I could get drunk at Applebees again
I just had a conversation w a π that didnt resort to name calling... We just spoke our peace and wished ourselves good luck and now i dint know what to do with myself.
I think im going to go back and call him a bitch.
I just had a conversation w a π that didnt resort to name calling... We just spoke our peace and wished ourselves good luck and now i dint know what to do with myself.
I think im going to go back and call him a bitch.
I need Tesla to go $3k eoy
Ran out of condoms and told my gf I'm a pull out king. Went in raw and found out I'm king of shit. She now preggo and I need Tesla to go $3,000 eoy.
Ran out of condoms and told my gf I'm a pull out king. Went in raw and found out I'm king of shit. She now preggo and I need Tesla to go $3,000 eoy.
Oh my gourd, I am financially ruined (agricultural futures)
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.