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Archive for April 25th, 2011

Shelter that Snowflake.

Update:   Sent to me by ID10T Killer.  I cannot possibly imagine how you could get geekier than building an ALU using MineCraft.   That doesn’t mean “bad”, it just means “you don’t get very many dates, do you?”

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Just how much of a sad sack of sh*t do you need to be to think that your kid needs a “no-hit pinata”
?

Me, I’m going to get my kids a harp-seal pinata, furred with real harp-seal fur.

This was originally over at Tacky Raccoons (Bunk Strutts).

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In a million years I could not stress enough how badly I need #5, The Walking Harvester, aka the Tree-Eating Robo-Spider

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Seanbaby over at Cracked.com put up a piece listing sex advice books… Page 2 is something else.  Definitely adult-oriented.  Funny as hell.

4 Great Sex Advice Books for People Who Hate Sex

#4 looks like a good way to die of a brain aneurysm, and I don’t mean the good kind.

7 Sex Tips from Cosmo That Will Put You in the Hospital

Ah, what the hell.  We’re on “Sex” tonight so let’s talk about “forbidden love”.
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And making paper out of elephant poop is a green thing to do… how?
…environmentally conscious company…
[snip]
After the poo is gathered, Flancman said it’s carefully rinsed with water, leaving only the fibrous materials from the grasses, bamboo and fruits the elephants have eaten but couldn’t digest.
Then… those fibers are thrown into a giant pot of boiling water to ensure an even more thorough cleansing and sterilization, leaving the fibers primed and ready to be made into paper.Once additional fibers from pineapple plants and trees are thrown into the all-natural mix to add thickness, [the] team separates the moist pulp into small cakes that are then spread over a mesh-bottomed tray and left out to dry naturally under the sun for several hours.Once dry, the cakes transform into sheets of paper, and Flancman and his crew are able to peel them off the tray and start making Poo Poo Paper products.

He said this tedious handmade process is repeated often, and in the end, the paper comes out sturdy and oatmeal-colored without a hint of stinkiness.

Oh!  They are allowed to dry naturally, which makes this a green process.  Right.  Got it.
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I made an awful, awful, awful mistake a month or so ago.  I like to cook and I made fresh mashed spuds using red potatoes.  My favorite, next to Yukon Golds.  So anyway, I slop some on my daughter’s plate, add a pat of butter, and a dollop of gravy from a pork roast on top.
Looking at Cruel Wife I said with a grin “There you go, girl, a ‘Volcano of Love’.”
More later…
Now, that didn’t sound NEARLY as obscene when I said it as when my daughter said tonight after finishing her mashed potatoes:
“Dad, I want another ‘Volcano of Love’.”
I looked at my wife, and she had the most evil grin on her face – the kind of evil grin that turns your bones gelatinous and makes your skin just wetly slough off and pile up on the floor.
I’m going to need a whole lot of serious therapy.

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I’ve been playing Portal 2.  Impeccable game.  Absolutely top-notch and worth every single penny if you had to dig in public hotel and restaurant couches for six weeks to scrape up the cash.

All right, I’ve been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back.

GET MAD! I DON’T WANT YOUR DAMN LEMONS! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THESE?!

DEMAND TO SEE LIFE’S MANAGER! Make life RUE the day it thought it could give CAVE JOHNSON LEMONS!

DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! I’M THE MAN WHO’S GONNA BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN! WITH THE LEMONS! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that’s gonna BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN!

Cave Johnson, Portal 2

I hesitate to include the next link.  If you are a person who doesn’t like spoilers (it only kind of does) then don’t watch it.  Ignore the purple elephant.  Just don’t think about it.

But the tune and lyrics and singing… they just stick in your brain and don’t go away.  I’ve had it in my head for three and a half hours now.

Aperture Science

We do what we must

because we can.


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Last night Cruel Wife said we can fly the chopper again!  Hee hee!  No, that’s not a euphemism.  I’m talking Battlefield 2.

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My “guy parts” are up near my collarbones in sympathy.  Keep watching until the replay at the end.  That poor bastard.  It’s moments like that where a person really does wish to just be shot so they can forego the experience.


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