willnotwill

Did you read the patent text: A further object of my invention is to provide a cuff on the belt in which the childs hands may be placed to restrain movement of the hands and prevent him from playing with adjacent articles or disarranging his clothing and permit suificient movement so that he may play with a toy.

Do you have someone to push you?

I think I injured it changing out the car battery in my standby generator. Just hasn't gotten any better. The doctor says: 1. Take Aleve 2. Put the tennis elbow strap on my forearm 3. Don't do stuff that makes it hurt (duh) Off to the Sports guy to see what the long term strategy is.

Back to Jakie's point of view: The original babies continued to eat together. “I guess we don’t stand out so much,” Lexie said. “Yeah, hard to tell the babies from the babies,” Mark added. “But at least they get to be big kids once they leave the building.” “Some do,” I added. “But, my mom says that a lot of parents who stop by the boutique are asking about getting more baby stuff for their kids.” “Hey, did you fill out the survey yet?” Lexie asked. “What survey?” I asked. “The one about diapers and the new uniform. I think everybody got one. It was mailed home.” “I guess I haven’t seen mine yet.” When I got home that night, I asked mom, and she passed over the envelope. There were pages for both the parents and the child to fill out. First, it asked me if I wore diapers to school, then at home. It asked me if I thought I was incontinent and if so whether by injury, disease, or just prolonged diaper use. It went on and on, and I filled it out. I had no idea what it was about but why not. A few weeks later I was called down to the principal’s office. They announced that they had a psychologist that was doing a study on the effects of the diapering. They told me I’d be able to give my frank opinion about the whole thing, but they’d want me to be truthful in my answers. It went on for about an hour. I did express that I wish that I wasn’t publicly humiliated by being babied and that I could certainly stand to not have to use the diapers. As I was leaving, I saw Mark was outside waiting for his turn at the survey. I went off hoping that maybe it did something. A month passed, and the school announced a new program: The Green Diaper Initiative. I had seen a bunch of students protesting the ecological impact of us wearing diapers. The Green Diaper initiative provided cloth diapers for the students at school. Of course, I had already had cloth diapers at home, so the new scheme was an easy transition. It was simple really, every time I changed at school I traded a dirty cloth diaper for a clean one. One evening Mom came in and suggested I needed a bath. I followed her to the tub that she’d already filled with warm water and bubbles. I’d had a few baths from her, so I thought I knew what to expect. Out of the diaper, I slid under the warm water. After a few minutes, my mother turned back to the tub holding a razor. “It would probably be better if you didn’t have so much hair down there,” she said. I gulped. I knew what the implication was. I heard from some of the other kids that their parents had shaved them for hygienic reasons, but thought I had escaped it. I got up on my knees and watched my mom remove the evidence that I was more than just a baby. After, getting the diaper area cleaned up she moved to my armpits. “C’mon Mom, that’s not going to be a problem.” She just gave me the look and proceeded to do the armpits. She made a quick pass over the rest of my body. I was clean as a baby now. No hair except on my scalp. I calmed myself to sleep that night telling myself that in a few years I would grow up. I’d be out of diapers, and my hair would grow back. The next day after school, Mom came and retrieved me from daycare. She led me back to the boutique and said that they had some new arrivals she wanted me to try on. She pulled an item from the rack and led me to the dressing room. She unsnapped the school onesie and pulled it off me. She held out the first item for me to step into. It was a sort of seersucker fabric diaper cover. Baggy, so it covered the diapers and plastic pants I had on. She then slid a matching shirt over my head. It came down just above the diaper waistline. She pronounced it cute. She picked up my school uniform and folded it and told me we had an appointment. Appointment? We drove a short distance and entered what I thought might be a doctor’s office. We were led to an examining room, and I sat on the table. Soon a woman came in. “Oh, what an adorable baby,” she said to me. I still reddened a bit when strangers acted as they’d just found an infant. My mom and this woman exchanged words, but I didn’t understand what was going on. Soon I was naked with an underpad beneath me “just in case.” The woman wheeled some machine over close and spread some goo on me and then placed a wand on my rear end. I heard a zap and felt heat where she’d had it. She continued to do this moving the wand slightly each time. “What’s going on?” I asked. She paused a minute and looked at my Mom who just nodded. “It’s a laser hair system. It will keep that hair from growing back so you won’t have to keep being shaved.” She resumed moving the wand and zapping me. It seemed like hours, but she had finally finished doing every inch of my body except my scalp. “It will never grow back?” I inquired. “You’ll need a few more treatments to make it complete, but yes. You’ll never have to worry about hair on your body again.”

No problem at the Doctors. Didn't even take off my shirt. Turns out I do have tennis elbow (no cracks about jerking off). Off to a sports medicine specialist.

My arm had been killing me for the last month so I guess it's time. At least I'll be diapered (and unless I get that doctor from Scrubs who has people take their pants off even for things like eye problems that won't be a problem). It's really my elbow. Might be tennis elbow but I don't play tennis. This always reminds me of the joke about the guy whose doctor has a new diagnostic machine that will diagnose any problem from a urine sample. Skeptical, he provides a sample. The machine diagnoses tennis elbow. The man is livid. The machine is a fraud. His elbow is fine and he doesn't even play tennis. He decides to put it to another test. He provides more urine, he gets his wife to provide a sample, and even his teenage daughter. He then mixes in some from his dog and just for good measure he masturbates into the specimen and takes it and feeds it to the machine. The results come out. I've got bad news. Your wife has the clap. Your daughter is pregnant. Your dog has distemper, and if you don't stop jerking off like that, you'll never get rid of that tennis elbow.

Never heard it unless it's just a misspelling of dipes. I've never heard of it without a long I.

Taking a slight diversion here to introduce a new character adapting to the new school uniforms Bob's Story Bob was reading the package of information that came from the school. Every year in the middle of the summer he got this bummer envelope to remind him that soon he’d be back in school. “I might as well get this over with,” he thought. The first item was his schedule. No real surprise here. He’d chosen classes with the help of his guidance counselor and the schedule had reflected what he had asked for. The next item was a copy of the student handbook. A real snoozer of a document, he set it aside. The last item was a letter to students and parents reminding them of the adoption of the new school uniform policy. “Drat,” he thought. He had heard rumors that uniforms were in the plans but he was hoping they’d have forgotten about that. He read the next section twice. “Double drat. They can’t be serious.” The thing said that the school uniform would consist of a one piece bodysuit and a diaper. A diaper? They can’t be serious. Even the idea of a bodysuit was silly. He continued reading. Toilets for students will be unavailable. Changing facilities? They can’t really be saying you’d have to use the diaper. Mom!” he screamed. “Yes, Robert?” she responded as she entered the room. “Read this,” he said passing over the letter. Bob’s mother read through the item. “Yes, I know about this. I told you earlier that you had the option of switching schools.” “You didn’t tell me that if I stayed at Madison, I’d be wearing diapers!” he protested. “Well it’s a little too late to do anything about that now. Besides, I’ve already put in the order for your uniforms.” Bob fumed. What could he do? Mom seemed to think this was just another normal thing. It was a week later when he came home to see his mother opening a package. “Your uniforms are here. Why don’t you try them on.” She handed him the bodysuit and a diaper. He trudged off to his room. He held up the diaper. No mistaking what it was, it was just like a baby’s only with two tapes on each side. He spread it out on his bed. He pulled his shorts and shirt off and got the thing taped in place. Just peachy. Bob unfolded the bodysuit. It looked just like a t-shirt except that it had a part that went under his legs and snapped there. He got it on and snapped it under the diaper. He looked in the mirror. He looked like a 14-year-old infant. Then the logo printed on the top caught his eye. It wasn’t quite the school logo. Rather than the Warhawk mascot, it had a cartoonish baby sporting just a diaper there. He went to his desk and dug out the school handbook that just arrived. He hadn’t looked at it before. Sure enough, the same baby logo was on the cover. He turned on his computer and went to the school website. Sure enough all references to the Warhawk had been changed to Baby. The team names were all the “Madison Babies.” This was getting ridiculous. His mom knocked at the door. “Do you have it on yet?” He went over and opened it and she came in and looked at him. “It looks like it fits pretty well,” she said tugging at various parts of it. She got down to the leg holes and smiled. “Of course, you’re not going to wear your underpants under the diaper. That would be messy.” Bob groaned again. “I’m really expected to use this thing?” “Well, it’s probably not a good idea to try to hold it in all day,” his mother said. “If you want to test it now, I suggest you take your underpants off.” “No thanks,” he said. He had no intention of staying in this get up any longer than possible. The rest of his summer passed by too fast. Soon it was the first day of school. He got up, showered and ate breakfast. He sat on the toilet and forced himself to go one last time and then got the stupid diaper in place and the onesie over it. It felt odd having the breeze on his bare legs and the extra bulk between them. As he approached the school, he could see others converging on the building dressed as him. “Hey, Bob,” he heard a voice say. He turned to find his friend Jim. “Hey, Jim.” “How are you liking the new outfit?” he asked. “It’s stupid,” Bob said. “At least it’s cool. At Monroe, they have to wear long pants. Some of the boys were wearing skirts to protest that girls could wear shorter things.” “I’m not sure which is worse. Besides, this diaper’s likely going to get hot and sticky.” “Yeah.” The school day progressed, and there was much talk about the diapers and using them. I should have cut back on my lunch drinks because by the end of the next class I had to go. I was fidgeting around trying to avoid having to go, but finally, I realized I could wait no longer. The teacher was droning on about this semesters syllabus, and it took me a second to try to go. I finally closed my eyes and started to pee. As I felt the warmth spreading across my crotch, I popped my eyes open to see if anybody noticed what I was doing, but they were all disinterested. I thought surely I’d peed enough to blow these things out, but a discrete pass of my hand around my crotch showed no leaks. As the bell rang, the girl next to me leaned over. “You wet them a few minutes ago, didn’t you.” I reddened a bit at being caught out. “Yeah.” “I did, too. Isn’t it neat to sit there and pee while the teacher blabs on.” Neat wasn’t quite the word I was going to use. I hustled to my next class. I had to pee a bit more, so I just pretended to be interested in whatever the teacher was saying while I wet more. Perhaps she was right. Still, it was kind of sick. The dismissal bell rang, and I could feel the weight of the soaked diaper sagging at the crotch of my bodysuit. I went right home and ripped off the uniform and diaper and got into regular clothes. The next day I was on my way to lunch when I saw a girl in tears push out of a room. My friend Tammy was just behind her, so I asked what was up. “She filled her diaper on the way to class, and she asked for a pass to get a change, and the teacher told her she could wait until lunch.” “I wet mine yesterday, stayed in it until I got home.” “She pooped hers. It was pretty obvious.” “Oh.”

I mentioned it in the first reply to this thread.

This comes up regularly. If you are in the US, the best advice I can give is if you have a Private Mail Box store nearby (UPS Store, Postal Annex, etc...) that you can have the packages shipped there (by any carrier). If you have a monthly box, package receipt is included. Otherwise, it's a small fee ($4 at the UPS store near me) to accept one. NorthShoreCare will allow you to hold-at-fedex location when you order. Other orders, once shipped and you have the tracking number via UPS or FEDEX you can login to their website and intercept to be held at a location.

I have unkind (VERY UNKIND) things to say about McAfee, especially on non-windows platforms (but it sucks on Windows as well). I like to say that McAfee gave my computer Autism. Except for one royal screwup a couple of years back (and their abhorrant handling of it), Malwarebytes has worked pretty well.

I remember two things about those diapers. They were cut a little wider in the crotch than the subsequent attends which I never really liked the change. I still remember being in some large pharmacy where the cashier held the box up and shouted to the next cashier over "Is there tax on these?"

It used to be when you pushed Mark Site Read and confirmed, you got a confirmation that something happened and the page reloaded showing nothing new anymore. Now it just quickly flashes "Loading" at the bottom of the page and then does nothing. It did mark the site read because if I refresh the page it does come back showing no new postings.

I started getting junk in my Facebook stream allegedly from "Incontinence Research" organization but it is a thinly veiled ad for Because's subscription diaper plan. Too bad the diapers suck. The only thing I can say for them is they are better than the Willow (one of their competitors) product which describes itself as the "Dollar Shave Club" of diapers. Took a lot of grief to get that one cancelled. The picture is cute: Of coruse, the Dollar Shave Club sucks as well. If you want to buy razor blades by mail use Harry's.

The "cryptic signs" are what happens when you take a UTF-8 encoded message and treat it as single byte ASCII. You can actually convert it if you have the ability to tweak the encodings. This all happened when the version of InVision (the absolutely terrible software this site uses) was upgraded a few years back. Of course, most of these older stories were wiped out by the site attack which corrupted the longer posts in the database.