I drive a truck for work, my company tracks that statistic for me. 7,467 miles in my truck, in the last 30 days. Not as far as I could go, mathematically speaking, and not counting the miles I’ve done in my car or on foot in that time period. Probably rounds up to 8,000 total.
I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. First, I visited my wife’s grave. Then, I joined the army.
For me, it’s eurobeat. But specifically, eurobeat while I’m driving my car. Ideally, doing something other than rolling down the interstate, merely holding my steering wheel straight for 20 minutes on my way to work.
It’s not exclusively eurobeat, but I use this playlist whenever I find the right road for wringing out my engine a little bit. Or if I realize I’m in a rush and I need to floor it. Sometimes both.
The Mist’s film adaptation has a better ending than the original story. King himself thought so.
29 here. Kinda consider myself between generations.
I smoke tobacco, albeit very, very seldomly. About two packs a year, tops, plus a proper cigar roughly every quarter. Never vaped. Can’t do weed, because my job is federally regulated and I get drug tested too often.
I used to drink rather heavily, especially during the pandemic - I’d put away a bottle of rum or vodka over the course of nearly every weekend. I still drink sometimes, but nowhere near as much or as often. Mostly taste-testing homemade wine batches, every couple months. It’s been about a year since the last time I got pandemic-levels of drunk.
Fried rice?