Chadoy Leon (2025)

25/12/2025

There's a specific stage of parenting where your standards for acceptable behavior drop so dramatically that your pre-kid self wouldn't even recognize you. Before children, you had ideas about structure, boundaries, and proper supervision. You were going to be the parent who did educational activities, limited screen time, and always knew exactly what your kids were doing. Then you actually had kids, and somewhere between the third meltdown of the day and your fourteenth trip to wipe something sticky off something else, your priorities underwent a complete reformation. Now your parenting philosophy can be summarized in one simple principle: if they're quiet, they're fine. You don't even need to know what "fine" means anymore. Quiet equals survival, and survival equals success.

The beautiful thing about this approach is the complete abandonment of what things "should" look like in favor of what actually works. Your kids could be in the garage performing amateur automotive surgery on the family vehicle, completely dismantling the transmission with tools they definitely shouldn't have access to, creating a mechanical disaster that will cost thousands to repair and as long as you're hearing silence instead of screaming, crying, or the specific tone of sibling warfare, you're calling it a win. Are they learning? Probably. Are they safe? Questionable, but they haven't come to get you yet, so you're operating under the assumption that no news is good news. Are they destroying property? Almost certainly, but you'll deal with that later when you have the emotional bandwidth, which is approximately never.

This parenting strategy is born from pure exhaustion and the hard-won wisdom that sometimes the cost of intervention is higher than the cost of whatever chaos is currently unfolding. Sure, you could go check on them right now, but then you'd have to address whatever situation you discovered. You'd have to redirect their attention, clean up whatever mess they've made, answer forty-seven questions about why they can't disassemble the car, and then deal with the inevitable tantrum when you shut down their unsupervised mechanical engineering project. Or and hear me out you could sit here for five more minutes enjoying your coffee while it's still lukewarm, scrolling through your phone in blessed silence, pretending you don't hear the occasional clang of metal on concrete coming from the driveway.

The transmission comment is obviously hyperbolic, but the sentiment is real. Parents reach a point where the threshold for concern gets recalibrated entirely. Kids playing quietly in their room? Don't investigate too closely because you might discover they've created finger paint out of diaper cream and redecorated the walls, and once you know about it, you have to do something about it. Kids being suspiciously cooperative? Don't question it, just accept this rare gift from the universe. Kids engaged in some elaborate game that involves your good furniture, the dog, and items from the garage? As long as nobody's bleeding, on fire, or calling for you, they're developing problem-solving skills and you're developing the ability to selectively ignore sounds that would have sent you running six months ago. This is advanced parenting knowing when to intervene and when to just let them figure out how transmissions work through hands-on experience. Will the car run after they're done? Probably not. Will you get fifteen minutes of peace? Absolutely. And sometimes, that fifteen minutes is worth whatever disaster awaits you when the silence finally breaks and you have to go see what they've done.

24/12/2025

The corporate email has become one of modern life's greatest tests of emotional control and professional decorum. You open your inbox with cautious optimism maybe today will be reasonable, maybe people will communicate like rational adults with baseline respect for your time and intelligence. Then you see it: an email that makes your blood pressure spike before you've even finished the subject line. Maybe it's the tone that specific passive-aggressive corporate speak that's technically polite but dripping with condescension. Maybe it's the request itself—something completely unreasonable disguised as a simple ask, with a deadline that's already passed by the time you're reading it. Or maybe it's just the audacity of someone emailing you about something that could have been a quick conversation, or better yet, not your problem at all.

You read through it once, your jaw clenching tighter with each sentence. The email is full of phrases like "per my last email" (translation: you ignored me and I'm annoyed), "just following up" (translation: I'm going to harass you until you respond), "when you get a chance" (translation: I need this immediately but I'm pretending to be casual about it), and "let me know your thoughts" (translation: agree with me or prepare to defend yourself). By the second paragraph, you're no longer reading for information you're reading to fuel your internal rage, mentally composing the response you'll never send, the one that starts with "Actually" and ends with HR involvement. The professional response you'll actually send will be some variation of "Thanks for reaching out, let me look into this," but the response playing in your head is significantly shorter and involves two words, one of which definitely isn't "you."

What makes these emails particularly infuriating is the layer of corporate politeness that forces you to respond with professionalism even when someone is being objectively terrible. They can waste your time, make unreasonable demands, ignore your previous communications, question your competence, or voluntarily misunderstand something you explained clearly and you still have to reply with "Thanks for your email" like you're grateful they blessed your inbox with their nonsense. You can't say what you're thinking. You can't tell them that their request is ridiculous, their timeline is impossible, their tone is offensive, or that they should perhaps try reading the information you already provided before asking you to explain it a third time. You have to play the game, maintain the facade, and respond with the kind of measured professionalism that makes you want to scream into a pillow afterward.

The "go f**k yourself" thought isn't unprofessional it's a survival mechanism. It's your brain's way of maintaining sanity in a system that demands you absorb disrespect with a smile and a timely response. Every working person has had that moment where they're staring at an email, their internal monologue screaming obscenities, while their hands are typing something like "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. Let's schedule a time to discuss further." It's the gap between what you're thinking and what you're allowed to say that makes modern work culture simultaneously hilarious and soul-crushing. So yes, you read emails and think "go f**k yourself" on a regular basis. You think it when your coworker sends you something at 4:55 PM on a Friday. You think it when your boss adds "one more small thing" to your already full plate. You think it when a client asks if you can "quickly" do something that would take hours. You think it, you feel it, you let it pass through you, and then you type a professional response that makes you hate yourself just a little bit. That's not a character flaw that's just having a job in the 21st century, where your inbox is a constant test of your ability to not say what you're actually thinking.

24/12/2025

The holiday season arrives with its signature sounds classic Christmas music playing in every store, the cheerful jingle of bells on decorations, the distant sound of sleigh bells in songs that have been playing on repeat since November 1st. It's supposed to be magical and festive, a auditory reminder that the most wonderful time of the year has arrived. Except when you're hearing those bells constantly, even when there's no music playing, even when you're alone in a quiet room, even when it's 3 AM and there's definitely no Christmas parade happening outside your window. That's when you have to confront an uncomfortable question: are you experiencing the magic of the season, or have you developed a medical condition that causes persistent ringing in your ears? The line between holiday spirit and hearing damage has become concerningly blurred.

Tinnitus is one of those conditions that sounds fake until you experience it, and then it becomes the most real and annoying thing in your life. It's a ringing, buzzing, or yes sometimes a jingling sound in your ears that has no external source. It can be caused by everything from loud noise exposure to stress to just your body deciding to malfunction for no particular reason. The tricky part during the holidays is that sleigh bells and tinnitus can sound remarkably similar, creating a confusing situation where you're not sure if you're hearing festive music or if your auditory system is just having a moment. Are those distant jingles coming from the store across the street playing "Jingle Bell Rock" for the ten-thousandth time? Or is that just your brain creating phantom sounds because you've been exposed to so much Christmas music that your neurons are now stuck on a permanent holiday loop?

The confusion is particularly strong if you work in retail, hospitality, or any environment where Christmas music is weaponized as atmospheric ambiance for eight hours a day. By mid-December, your brain has heard "Silver Bells" so many times that the melody has been permanently encoded into your neural pathways. You hear it in your sleep. You hear it in the shower. You hear it during conversations when you're trying to focus on what someone's saying but your brain is providing unsolicited backup vocals to "Here Comes Santa Claus." At this point, distinguishing between actual sleigh bells and your mind's involuntary Christmas carol karaoke has become impossible. The bells are always there, real or imagined, a constant companion through the season whether you want them or not.

The real test comes in January. If you're still hearing sleigh bells after the decorations come down and the radio stations switch back to regular programming, that's probably tinnitus and you should maybe see a doctor about it. But if the jingling fades along with the holiday cheer, then congratulations you didn't develop a medical condition, you just survived another Christmas season with your hearing intact, if slightly traumatized. Either way, the fact that you can't tell the difference says something about how completely the holidays saturate every aspect of existence. The sounds, the music, the constant bombardment of festive noise becomes so overwhelming that your brain can no longer distinguish between external stimuli and internal dysfunction. So here's to everyone who's spent December wondering if they're hearing things or if things are actually there to be heard, who can't tell if it's magic or medical attention they need, and who's just trying to make it to January without permanently associating the sound of bells with either holiday trauma or permanent ear damage. Whether it's sleigh bells or tinnitus, at least you're hearing something, and at this point in the season, that's about as optimistic as anyone can manage to be.

24/12/2025

The internet has been trying to convince people there are "hot singles in your area" since approximately 1997, and the advertising has only gotten more aggressive and less creative since then. Every website that exists in the slightly-to-very adult content space is covered in ads promising that desperate, attractive people within a five-mile radius are just dying to meet you specifically. The ads are relentless, popping up with geographical specificity that's both impressive and creepy they know your city, sometimes your neighborhood, and they want you to believe that your area is uniquely populated by people who are both extremely attractive and extremely available. It's targeted marketing at its most optimistic and least realistic, banking on human loneliness and ego to make people click through to whatever scam or virus awaits on the other side.

The self-awareness in this quote is what elevates it from simple internet complaint to genuinely funny commentary. Most people either ignore these ads entirely or get mildly annoyed by their persistence. But recognizing that you yourself are the "lonely slt in your area" that the ads are referring to? That's a level of self-knowledge that's both brutal and hilarious. You're not falling for the scam because you've realized you ARE the scam or at least, you're the target demographic these ads are designed to exploit. You're home alone, browsing adult content, definitely fitting the "lonely" criteria, and while "slut" might be a harsh self-assessment, you're certainly engaged in activities that suggest you're not currently in a fulfilling romantic situation. The mirror comment is the perfect punctuation you don't need the internet to show you lonely people in your area because you're literally looking at one every time you pass a reflective surface.

There's something beautifully defiant about calling yourself out before the algorithm can do it for you. These ads work on shame, desperation, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, all these supposedly available people are real and interested. They prey on the idea that everyone else is out there having the time of their lives while you're home alone, and wouldn't you like to join them? But when you own your situation when you acknowledge that yes, you're lonely, yes, you're home alone on a Friday night, yes, you're the exact person these ads are targeting the ads lose their power. You can't shame someone who's already made peace with their reality. You can't manipulate someone who's looked in the mirror, assessed their situation honestly, and decided that self-awareness is more valuable than whatever false promise these ads are selling.

The joke also works as a commentary on how these ads have become such omnipresent internet wallpaper that they're basically meaningless. Everyone knows they're fake. Everyone knows there's not actually a database of local people desperately seeking hookups. Everyone understands that clicking these ads leads nowhere good. And yet they persist, covering every marginally adult website, promising the same impossible fantasy, targeting the same human vulnerabilities they've been exploiting for decades. The only appropriate response at this point is to laugh at them, and more importantly, to laugh at yourself for being in the position where you're seeing these ads in the first place. Yes, Pornhub, there are lonely s***s in the area. One of them is currently talking back to your ads with the kind of self-deprecating humor that suggests they're doing just fine actually, mirror and all. The ads will keep promising, the algorithm will keep targeting, and people will keep being lonely but at least some of them will be lonely with enough self-awareness to roast themselves before the internet gets the chance.

24/12/2025

The economy is in shambles, student loans are crushing an entire generation, rent keeps climbing while salaries stay stagnant, and yet somehow—somehow—you're watching people your exact age drop $30,000 on a wedding like it's pocket change. They're getting married at vineyards with string quartets and custom cocktails named after their pets. They're having destination weddings that require guests to book flights and hotels. They're hiring photographers, videographers, florists, caterers, and coordinators like they're producing a Hollywood film. Meanwhile, you just spent $200 on skincare products at Sephora and now you're eating ramen for the next two weeks trying to figure out how you're going to make rent. The math isn't mathing. Either these people have access to financial resources you don't know about, or they're making wildly different priorities, or possibly they're all committing credit card fraud and nobody's caught them yet.

Let's talk about the skincare situation first because that's actually the more relatable crisis. You started with just a cleanser and moisturizer, living a simple skincare life. But then the algorithm got you. TikTok showed you one video about retinol, Instagram served you an ad for vitamin C serum, YouTube convinced you that you absolutely needed a separate eye cream, and suddenly you're standing in Sephora with a shopping basket full of products you can't pronounce but definitely need because someone with perfect skin told you they changed her life. The total at checkout makes you physically wince, but you've already committed. You walk out with a bag full of tiny expensive bottles, your bank account weeping, your face about to be hydrated and exfoliated and treated like the precious commodity it is. For the next month, you'll be that person who can't go out to eat because you "just bought skincare," which sounds ridiculous until you explain that proper face care apparently costs more than a car payment.

The wedding thing though that's where the real confusion lives. These aren't trust fund babies or tech executives. These are regular people with regular jobs who somehow have wedding budgets that rival small business startups. You see the posts: engagement photos that look like magazine spreads, wedding planning updates, registry links to places you can't afford to shop at even for yourself, and you're sitting there wondering if you missed a meeting where everyone else got access to secret money. Did their parents save for this since birth? Did they get surprise inheritances? Are they in debt up to their eyeballs and just really good at hiding it? Or have they simply chosen to prioritize this one big event over everything else, including financial stability, emergency savings, and the ability to buy groceries without checking their account balance first?

The answer, unfortunately, is probably "all of the above." Some people have family money either parents paying for the wedding outright or relatives contributing significantly, which is a privilege they might not even recognize as privilege. Some people are absolutely drowning in debt but decided that one perfect day was worth years of financial consequences. Some people got married at the courthouse and are only posting the pretty parts on social media while conveniently leaving out that the whole thing cost $2,000. And some people just made different choices they've been saving for years, they didn't buy the skincare, they don't have your student loan payment, they split rent with a partner, or they simply prioritized a wedding over the financial security that you're choosing instead. Neither choice is wrong, but they are vastly different, and the gap between "can afford a wedding" and "struggling after buying skincare" is a perfect encapsulation of how wildly different financial realities can exist within the same generation. So here's to everyone who can't figure out how their peers are funding these elaborate life events while they're just trying to maintain their skin barrier and make it to payday. You're not failing at adulting—you're just adulting with different challenges, different priorities, and significantly less help than some people have, even if they'll never admit it. Your face will be glowing and well-moisturized, even if your bank account is crying, and honestly, that's its own kind of investment in your future, even if it doesn't come with a DJ and an open bar.

24/12/2025

There's a hierarchy of confidence when it comes to driving, and most people live somewhere in the middle capable enough to get where they're going, cautious enough to avoid trouble, and aware enough of their limitations to stay humble behind the wheel. Then there are the truly elite drivers, the ones who've mastered their vehicle so completely that they've transcended normal driving anxiety and entered a state of pure, unshakeable certainty about their abilities. These are the people who parallel park in one smooth motion while everyone watches in awe. These are the people who can navigate rush hour traffic like they're conducting a symphony. And these are the people who possess such unwavering faith in their driving skills that they'll honk at a police car for a traffic violation without even a moment of hesitation.

Let's be clear about what this level of confidence requires. First, your driving record has to be absolutely immaculate no tickets, no accidents, no points, nothing that could give an officer a reason to pull you over and make your life difficult. Second, you need to actually be that good, because the confidence isn't delusional, it's earned. You signal properly, you check your blind spots, you maintain perfect following distance, you know every rule in the driver's handbook and follow them religiously. You're not just a good driver, you're the driver that other drivers should aspire to be. And third, you need the kind of conviction that comes from knowing you're objectively correct in any given situation, to the point where even a police officer cutting you off doesn't intimidate you because wrong is wrong, badge or no badge.

The moment itself is always beautiful to imagine. You're driving along, minding your business, following every traffic law like the model citizen you are, when suddenly a police cruiser cuts you off without signaling, making a move that would get any civilian driver honked at and maybe even pulled over if a cop saw it. Most people would swallow their frustration, maybe mutter something under their breath, and definitely not make a sound because antagonizing law enforcement seems like a fast track to an uncomfortable roadside conversation. But not you. Your hand hits that horn with the righteousness of someone who knows they're in the right. That honk echoes through the intersection, a declaration that good driving transcends authority, that traffic laws apply to everyone, and that your license is so clean and your skills so sharp that you're not afraid of any consequences because there's nothing they can find on you anyway.

The aftermath is where the real confidence shines. The officer might look in their rearview mirror, might even consider pulling you over to have a word about respecting law enforcement. But you're not worried because you've done nothing wrong—in fact, you've done everything right, which is precisely why you had the standing to honk in the first place. Your record is clean, your insurance is current, your registration is valid, every light on your vehicle works, and you were driving exactly the speed limit with perfect lane discipline. What are they going to do, ticket you for being correct? You've achieved the ultimate form of driving nirvana: the ability to hold everyone, including the police, accountable to the same standards you hold yourself to. That's not recklessness, that's integrity on wheels. That's knowing your license isn't just good it's so good that it comes with the authority to enforce traffic law through the power of your horn, regardless of who's on the receiving end. And honestly, that's the kind of driver we should all aspire to be, even if most of us will never have the combination of skill, clean record, and sheer audacity required to actually honk at a cop and drive away like it's just another Tuesday.

24/12/2025

There's a specific energy that fills a workplace when someone realizes they've hired a runner. You're going about your day, handling the usual chaos, when someone glances at the clock and casually mentions, "Hey, has anyone seen the new guy since lunch?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before the collective realization hits like a wave he's gone. Not gone to the bathroom, not gone to grab something from his car, just gone gone. Vanished. Dipped out. Said "I'm taking my fifteen" and decided that fifteen minutes would actually last forever because he was never coming back. And the best part? Nobody's even mad. If anything, there's this strange respect mixed with amusement because honestly, the audacity of it all is kind of impressive.

The Irish goodbye has nothing on the workplace ghost. At least at a party, you kind of expect people might slip out quietly. But at a job? On your first day? After sitting through orientation, filling out paperwork, getting your uniform or badge, and making it halfway through your shift? That takes a special kind of courage or a special kind of "absolutely not." You can almost track their mental breakdown throughout the day. Morning: nervous but optimistic, trying to absorb information and make a good impression. Mid-morning: starting to realize this job is not what the Indeed listing promised. Lunch: having a serious conversation with themselves about their life choices. Post-lunch: that's when the decision solidifies. They're sitting in their car, staring at the building, and something in their soul just says "nah." And instead of going back inside to professionally resign or even send a text, they just... drive away. Into the sunset. Into legend.

What makes it absolutely hilarious is watching everyone else's reaction unfold in real time. First there's confusion genuine concern that something might have happened. Then someone checks the parking lot and reports that their car is gone, and confusion shifts to understanding. Then comes the laughter, because what else can you do? Someone always tries to call or text, getting either no response or sometimes, if you're lucky, a message that just says "sorry" with no further explanation. The manager does that thing where they're trying to be professional and annoyed but you can see they're also kind of amused because this isn't the first time and it definitely won't be the last. The rest of the team bonds over the shared experience, swapping stories about other people who pulled the same move there's always that one person who didn't even make it to lunch, or the legend who showed up for orientation and never returned for their actual first shift.

The real comedy is in what it says about the job itself. When someone walks out mid-shift on day one, they're basically providing the most honest review possible. No exit interview, no diplomatic feedback, just a clear message: "This ain't it." And while management might act scandalized, deep down everyone knows that sometimes you just know. Maybe the job was misrepresented. Maybe the environment was toxic. Maybe they realized they'd rather be broke than spend eight hours a day in that specific hell. Whatever the reason, there's something beautifully chaotic about someone having the clarity and courage to just bounce without explanation. They didn't waste anyone's time pretending they'd stick it out. They didn't force themselves to finish a shift they knew they'd never return for. They just made a decision and executed it with the kind of commitment most people wish they had in any aspect of their lives. So here's to the new hires who don't come back from break the legends who remind us all that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit something isn't for you and walk away, even if "walk away" means ghosting an entire workplace and becoming the story people tell for years to come.

24/12/2025

Social media has created this expectation that your online presence should be a curated documentary of your actual life that every post, every quote, every photo should be a transparent window into your current reality. People scroll through your feed trying to piece together your relationship status, your emotional state, your life circumstances, treating your Instagram like it's investigative journalism. They analyze your stories for clues, read into your captions, and make assumptions about what's happening in your life based on what you choose to share. It's exhausting and invasive, which is exactly why subverting those expectations and deliberately confusing everyone is not just acceptable but honestly kind of hilarious.

Picture this: you're perfectly happy being single. You're living your best life, focusing on yourself, enjoying your freedom, and not interested in dating anyone at the moment. But every few days, you post some deeply romantic quote about soulmates or true love or finding "the one." Maybe it's a sunset photo with a caption about how "some people are worth the wait." Perhaps you share a quote about being someone's "forever" or how "real love never fades." Your comment section fills up with people trying to figure out what's happening. Your friends are texting you privately: "Wait, are you seeing someone?" Your family is calling asking if you're bringing someone to dinner. Your ex is probably having a minor crisis wondering if you've moved on. And you? You're just sitting there, completely single, cackling at the chaos you've created with a quote you found on Pinterest that you thought sounded pretty.

The beauty of this strategy is multifaceted. First, it reminds everyone that social media doesn't owe them accuracy it's your page, your content, your narrative to control however you want. Second, it's genuinely entertaining to watch people try to solve a mystery that doesn't exist. They're connecting dots that aren't even on the same page, building elaborate theories about your secret relationship, analyzing your likes and follows for evidence of a romantic partner. Meanwhile, the "love of your life" you're posting about might be pizza, or your dog, or the new book series you're obsessed with, or literally nothing at all because you just liked the quote. Third, it keeps people guessing, and there's power in that ambiguity. When people can't figure out your situation, they can't make assumptions, can't offer unsolicited advice, and can't project their own relationship expectations onto you.

But perhaps the best part is that it challenges the narrative that single people must be either desperately seeking love or bitterly avoiding it. You can be single and still appreciate beautiful thoughts about love. You can be unattached and still value romance as a concept. You can be completely content on your own while simultaneously posting like you're in the relationship of the century. It's performance art, it's trolling with style, and it's a reminder that not everything requires explanation or clarification. So post that love quote. Share that romantic song lyric. Caption your selfie with something that sounds like it's directed at a significant other. And when people inevitably ask what's going on, you can tell them the truth that you're just having fun keeping them confused or you can be mysterious and let them keep wondering. Either way, you're single, you're entertained, and you've successfully reminded everyone that your social media presence doesn't have to make sense to anyone but you. That's not chaos, that's creative freedom, and honestly, it's the most fun you can have with an Instagram account.

Chadoy Leon

25/12/2025

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