I might invest in something like this, but they already let me watch DVDs while I work. I think this would just be stepping over my own personal work ethic boundaries. The demo is extra funny; it loops, so try not to get entranced like I did.
Link hand-sent to me by Jed Wards.
True would like you to believe they’re a safe and effective online dating service, and as per usual ladies lurk for free. Every ad I have found of theirs (scattered on various geekery sites) has featured bosoms of mythic proportions and copy about finding your dream woman. Also of note is the distinct cropping out of the woman’s face – or even other features – in these ads. I’m sure every woman out there is dying to get on this service, baby.
“Talk to your Perfect Woman Now and get used to this view, ’cause that’s all you pigs are ever going to look at anyway!” Insulting to women, to be sure, but it dosn’t exactly say much about men, either. Don’t get me wrong, we love the cleavage, but…well, it’s not what we’re all about.
Compatibility test question 1: Do you like large, prominently displayed breasts? (or if female, do you have large breasts that you display prominently?)
[] Yes, I love them!
[] Yes, 36C or larger
[] No, I’m a man trying to feign that I am above such things
[] No, I’m a woman with average or small breasts and am therefore going to get nothing from your “dating” service
Compatability test question 2: What other stuff do you like? (check one)
[] Movies
[] Music
[] Sports
< submit button >
We have matched you with someone compatible! See how easy that was?
As I walked to work, I saw bike couriers streaming through the traffic and construction like spawning salmon. The bear-buses along the river of Wisconsin Avenue could not swat them from their horny little goal as they darted skillfully through the flashing orange rocks that created honking eddies and waves. Let’s face it, the subconscious which makes my legs stalk their way across the pavement to my office is a creature of metaphor.
At any rate, the brief glimpses into this stream-of-subconsiousness made me wonder if maybe I could be one of them. It is dangerous, no doubt, doesn’t pay too well, and probably contributes to testicular cancer (ask Lance about that). But, I’d get to work outside, get lots of exercise and actually feel like I get things done in a day.
I get big ideas like this sometimes about being a bike courier, but then I always think of the different media influences I have. Kids in the Hall bike courier jokes [rollover those, links not included], that bike movie with Kevin Bacon point to reasons why being a bike courier is stupid; Dark Angel makes it look cool, if the technology level of the world were to suddenly change.
In the end I decided against it. at least for now. But it did get me thinking that I’d like to see a documentary on the subject before I make my decision. The closest I’ll probably get is some reality television series. I don’t have cable, but has this already been done? If not, expect it soon:
World’s Most EXTREME Bike Couriers! Sipping coffee while jumping a curb! EXTREME! Flipping off a driver while carrying important insurance forms! EXTREME! Rolling up one pant leg! ÜBER X-TREME!
I need to get this stuff out of my system. It distracts me from my work. In Marketing.
Possibly OFN, but I got a link today that made me happy. Works in at least two applications, the second being spam email title generation.
Thanks to Sixpence.
In a dream this morning, pressed firmly between the ten-minute bookends of my snooze buttton, I was hearing auditions for a play I was directing. Although I felt that creatively this project would fall into my hands, the power definitely belonged to the person sitting to my left. Perhaps he was the producer, the money that would get my project off the ground; my dream did not specify and let me fill in the details myself. Who was this stranger with Caesar’s thumb approval over my every decision?
Mr. Peanut.
Now you may think, as many of us have storytelling sense and like to embellish, that I have changed the person’s identity in order to make a dream story – something that always has more urgency and catharsis to the dreamer – just that much more bizarre to enchant my audience. Nay not, I say! No, even without his trademark top hat, cane and monocle I recognized the mascot immediately.
And even thus dressed (or undressed, it would seem), his snobbery remained at the forefront of his personality. As each audition ended, he would proclaim loudly, “Not…handsome…AT ALL!” and then proceed with a mean-spirited critique of the performance. One young lady was told, “Not…handsome…AT ALL! Please remove this young lady before she is so repulsed by her own whining that she heaves her Lunchables all over our proscenium.”
And then, as a sympathetic soul, I would attempt to give some encouragement to the actor, but I felt like even Kevin Spacey singing “Modern Major General” in his near-perfect diction would have raised the glowering ire of Mr. Peanut.
When all the auditions were over, I was speaking with a stagehand. In a low conspiratorial tone, she said to me “That’s why they call him Mr. Peanut.” I said, “It’s not because he’s a giant talking peanut wearing clearly male-engendered clothing?” “No, it’s because he’s so salty.”
You see? All that, and I was late to work for conceivably the worst joke on the planet. My subconscious is a realm where few dare to tread.
Hey, it’s a random thought blog entry! Originality, thy name is me!
I was thinking that instead of having SCUBA equipment and masks and whatnot, there should be a way to use the technology of the hydrolysis battery to power a device that would split the water into its component atoms. Then, the mask could me small and self-contained, run on hydrogen (underwater this wouldn’t be dangerous) and get you high on oxygen all at once! Maybe there could be a nitrogen mixer or something to keep it from being too much O2 or to somehow decrease the likelihood of youe getting the bends? I don’t know. I’m not the science guy.
—
A friend of mine defended the war in Iraq admirably (nope, not Bjorn this time) over the weekend. He’s a teacher, so don’t go hatin’. He ain’t no Bush-lover. But in the tactical sense – the Sun Tzu sense – he had a point. If you want to fight a war against terrorists, do you kill the one man who accomplished a terrorist attack on American soil of a scale never before seen? Or do you fight the war right up to his door and hold him there, so he never gets to be a martyr? The second course of action assures that another holy war will not be taken up in his name.
Then, when you’ve cornered your enemy in such a way, you move the war to another front. A front which includes a dictator that no one loves, not even most of his countrymen. You set up shop there. And you dig in. Then, instead of going through all the trouble of getting through American security and flying across the ocean, every crazed person in that part of the world can drive a Jeep 300 miles and get a piece of their Great Infidel. And their innocent citizens die in the crossfire, not ours. And their country runs out of resources, not ours.
Humanitarian, agreeable, acceptable? I think not. But cunning and effective? Well, it’s a better defense than I’ve heard from the government for this bullshit war.
—
I’m going on a diet. I’ve read the facts, I’m reading the book, and I’m not going crazy with it. But I’m taking on the South Beach thing. Thus far, the thing I’ll miss the most is ice cream, but it says I can have some once in a while. And since I’m doing this mostly to not end up with heart disease or diabetes, the diet seems to have its head in the right game. The fact that I will be truly irresistible to the ladies is an added benefit.
—
I had a drop of honey on a banana for a snack when I got home from work and noticed that the bear has a warning to not feed honey to infants. I had to know why, so I looked it up. You benefit from my obsession with knowledge, if you read my site. But you don’t. And it’s so disheartening. You’re breaking my goddamn heart. Anyway, honey according to wikibooks:
Honey (as well as other sweeteners) is also potentially extremely dangerous for infants. This is because botulism spores are among the few bacteria that survive in honey. While these spores are harmless to adults, an infant’s digestive system is not yet developed enough to destroy them and the spores could potentially cause infant botulism. For this reason, it is advised that neither honey, nor any other sweetener, should be given to children under the age of 18 months.
Apparently, you have to use clover as well, or the honey can be poisonous, particularly from azalia bushes. And, in addition, beekeepers completely rule. Think about it. They have to be cool, they freaking keep. Bees.
