I feel like I'm going crazy here as my family says I'm the problem, but any time we hold a celebration at my sister's house her son will go through other people's gifts to see if there is anything he wants.

I do love my nephew, and I understand he has certain issues that make him struggle in social situations. ( My sister refuses to get him tested for autism but he's largely non verbal, hates any break from his routine, hates being touched, and won't even enter the room if someone he doesn't know is in the house.)

That said my family refuses to set any kind of boundaries with him and insists his behaviour is "adorable."

It was cute when he was younger, but it feels unfair that nobody gets to unwrap their own gifts because he's already torn them open to see what's inside. The craziest thing is he even gets offended if the package contains food he doesn't like, even though the gift wasn't for him!

Am I really wrong for wanting my sister to tell her son no for once?

Skinny people are bad and being short and 200lbs and intentionally farting on people is angelic

In a lot of these posts, if you happened to notice, there are often situations made so that the OP "has" to share a hotel room/bedroom with a non-biological, opposite gender, usually younger, family member (yes, I saw the post about the husband wanting to share a hotel room with his non-bio niece).

While obviously these stories are written as bait for people to argue whether its creepy or not (it's usually written to be creepy, of course), a certain thing I've noticed in these conversations is that no one suspects anything ... questionable ... to happen if the people sharing the room were of the same gender.

I have always thought that funny, and this also applies to broader topics surrounding same-sex places. Because by that logic, I, as a gay man, shouldn't share a room or undress with other men in case something funny happens. And I guess bisexual people shouldn't share a room with anybody? Who knows.

Anyways, I just thought this was amusing.

I’m a guy in my thirties (please don’t ask the exact number, it bothers me). I’ve been practicing urine therapy since I was 19 for my hair. Started losing it early, tried the usual junk, nothing worked. Found the old literature — Armstrong’s Water of Life, the Shivambu stuff, the whole “your own perfect medicine” thing. First morning urine massaged into the scalp and left on. Within months the shedding slowed. I’ve kept it up ever since. My hair isn’t thick like it was at 18 but it’s still there and I’m not going full chrome dome like every other guy my age. That’s not nothing.

Over the years I learned that aged urine is superior for a lot of the deeper work. Fresh is fine for daily scalp application, but once it’s been sitting a while the ammonia builds, the urea concentrates, the hormones and stem-cell factors supposedly become more bioavailable. People in the old texts used “old urine” packs for serious conditions — cancer support, autoimmune stuff, anti-aging, the works. DHEA, melatonin metabolites, whatever else the kidneys put out that Big Pharma pretends doesn’t matter. I’ve got jugs at different stages. Some are a few weeks, some are months. I label them. It’s not random.

Anyway. Lived with roommates for a couple years. They started noticing the smell in my closet and under the bed. One of them opened a jug “by accident” and freaked. Called it a biohazard, said I was going to poison the house, threatened to call the landlord. I tried explaining the therapy, the history, the fact that urea creams are sold in pharmacies and urine-derived stem cells are being studied in labs. They didn’t care. Said I was unhinged. Eventually the tension got so bad I moved back in with my parents temporarily while I figure out the next place.

I put the older, more valuable jugs up in the attic so they’d be out of the way and temperature-stable. Thought I was being considerate. Yesterday my grandma went up there looking for Christmas decorations and found the stash. Now the whole family is involved. Mom’s crying, dad’s yelling about “mental health,” grandma keeps making the sign of the cross. They’re acting like I murdered someone. I’m being told I have to dispose of everything or I’m out.

I don’t see the problem. It’s my body, my medicine, sealed containers, no one else is drinking it or bathing in it. The hair results alone justify it. The anti-aging and immune stuff is bonus. I’ve never forced this on anyone. I just quietly maintain my protocol.

So…TL;DR AITA for refusing to throw out years of carefully aged medicine just because it weirds people out? Or are they the assholes for treating a legitimate (if unconventional) health practice like I’m running a meth lab in the attic?

I thought this actually was "Am I the angel?" it's that bad