Monday, March 28, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Posted by Cranblogger at 8:01 PM
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Posted by sadly factual at 11:42 AM
Monday, March 21, 2011
...it will probably have something to do with the looks I was getting as I dragged this gigantic, clearly bulgingly-full, super-industrial-strength, anti-body-fluid-leakage-style, ominous, black, obviously weighty body bag down to the basement and wrestled it into the back of my car. At the very least, I should get more space on the elevators.
It's full of most of what was in my closet that I hadn't worn in years. Which was most of what was in my closet. Only big bag I could find. Seriously overkill: this bag could hold a wheelbarrow full of decaying offal without fear of mess, leaking, or breakage. It's made of plastic the thickness of a dying gazelle's ankles. So if you want to know how thick that is and you have a gazelle around the house, shoot it, and then grab its ankles. Presto. I suspect my landlord is a serial killer now for even having these tucked away in some cabinet. To Goodwill!
Posted by sadly factual at 4:22 PM
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Stuck under the Kennedy Center for 30 minutes today. I managed to flirt with college girls sculling in the Potomac, who must have been freezing. I am at that point where flirting works much better at a distance. This was supposed to be a picture of them flexing their muscles, which they had been doing. But the digital camera always waits a second and they were lowering their girly muscular arms before the picture was taken. Ah well. It wasn't warm out, either. I didn't envy them at all. Other than for being young and athletic. So, quite a bit, actually.
Posted by Cranblogger at 12:46 AM
Saturday, March 12, 2011
But I only stay here when other people are footing the bill, because above all, the Ritz Carlton in Naples is a place for the Very Rich.
Posted by Cranblogger at 11:41 AM
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I think this writer gives a very nice flavor of exactly what is going on in the "labor dispute" in professional football. If by labor dispute you mean, "My boss wants to take back my raises, cut my benefits, and increase the risk I face at work, because his obscenely fat-cat, greedy, shithead, take-home pay hasn't doubled this year, it's only grown at a normal rate." Pardon my French, but fuck management and authority in general ALWAYS. What management and authority wants is NEVER GOOD for anyone but their own pockets. OK, off to Naples, FL in the morning. At the Ritz!
Posted by sadly factual at 3:33 AM
Monday, March 7, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Fart Boy is a ludicrous toy of the sort that TW is constantly getting his hands on: things that make fart noises. He's had whoopie cushions of varying brands, cans with built-in wheezers that you overturn, jars of goo you swirl to get the coveted 'sucking fart' sound, and others I can no longer recall. Fart Boy is a plush toy seated on a bean-bag chair. He used to have a finger on a string that you pulled (get it? 'Pull my finger!') after which a loud flatulent explosion would sound from beneath his chair.
We were out of town somewhere in Pennsylvania hours from home when the tomfoolery with Fart Boy reached a climax and one thing led to another and next thing you know, they had pulled his finger clean OFF and no more would he sound his happy farting tune. So TW tossed him callously in the trash: cold, lonely, and so far from home.
Fart Boy is pissed.
Fart Boy wants revenge.
Fart Boy has equipped himself with a strap-on usb drive...
If you open it and plug it in, there is only one file on it: an mp3 sound file with a spoken message from Fart Boy. A dire, dire message.
Fart Boy places himself in a padded container because he's crazy; also it will help protect him in his travels...
...a padded container with a message of its own. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Then Fart Boy has himself placed in a suitable shipping parcel...
Next, Fart Boy contacts his friend Dave Kane. Dave has to help. Fart Boy knows where some of Dave's skeletons are buried. Do not
Dave accepts the parcel and lunches with his cousin, Dominic, visiting from his law office in London. The name of the font on the package is 'vengeance,' by the way. "It's the little things," says Fart Boy.
Dave knows where Dominic's skeletons are buried, so soon Fart Boy is on his way to Europe.
Hopefully it won't be long before he will be winging his way back to Columbia, MD. TW will then espy a package sent from a strange law firm in London, be curious, tear it open, only to confront the cheap-ass broken toy he hurled into the trash some 8 months earlier in some nameless town in Pennsylvania he can't even remember. A toy that is now threatening him in a creepy robot voice.
It takes so little to make me happy. :)
Posted by Cranblogger at 8:54 PM
Saturday, March 5, 2011
"The goal of the expedition is to reach the rim of the lava lake. Nobody has previously survived such an encounter."
lava scares and fascinates me. These guys climbed down to a lava lake inside a volcano. A volcano that periodically overflows and kills everything around it. I think they're nuts.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Posted by sadly factual at 2:35 PM