In case you were wondering, this is what 5 kg of jelly beans looks like:
Category: Life
You’re two tents
Here we observe a specimen of that rarest of species: the Walking Tent.
And here are two natives, apparently acolytes of the Tent, worshiping at its altar.
</Richard Attenborough>
High Rise Roller Coaster?
This is out off of the 60, not far from Hadley’s Orchards and two new casinos. It seems to be a hotel, but the curves in the scaffolding really do look like a roller coaster!
Frighteningly popular
Out of curiosity, I did a Google search for the phrase “blood of the innocent” to see where APK would come up. Given that my poetry pages seem to be very popular with search engines (and that the phrase is at the top of the frikkin’ page!), I expected it to be pretty high up in the listings. 72 pages of results later, I have a thorough education in just how popular this phrase is, and with whom. Even adding in “nothing” to the search, I still got 72 pages of religious diatribes and political blogs. Sheesh. If this is what’s popular, I’m glad I’m not it.
111111
While driving home from work today, I glanced down at the odometer and saw it read 111,110. So I drove around the parking lot a bit, then stopped to snap a photo at 111,111:
OK, this isn’t exactly fascinating photojournalism, but really, how often are you going to see all odometer digits the same? Your car probably has a few miles on it when you drive it off the lot, so you never see 000000. And what are the chances that you’ll still be driving the same car after 222,222 miles?
(In case you’re wondering about the trip odometer, it didn’t roll over at exactly the same time. I zeroed it because I figured it would make a better picture – all 1’s on one row and all 0’s on the next.)
Command-shift-BLAMMO
I just caught myself repeatedly pressing control-V and wondering why nothing was pasting. As I’m a lifelong Mac user, this is a personal sign of the plural of apocalypse. Somebody shoot me before I attract any horsemen.
No hablo nada
I swear, I cannot win with people anymore. I used to have a good, unloseable Spanish accent when saying people’s names. I started losing it on purpose when I royally frelled up speaking to someone who outranked me at the Dungeons & Demons job, and it’s pretty much gone. I wince when I hear myself say “manual” for “Manuel,” but at least I don’t confuse the person on the other end of the line.
Like today. I called a place for info on the file of someone whose last name I’ll say is Rivera. Like a good little white girl, I said it rih-VAIR-a.
“Oh, Mr. ree-VEH-ra?” asked the receptionist, and I conceded. The place called me back later and asked for a return call, and when I got the receptionist again I asked for the person who’d called, on the file of Mr. ree-VEH-ra.
“Sorry, what was the last name?”
*sigh* “rih-VAIR-a.”
“Oh, ree-VEH-ra. Let me transfer you.”
Like I said. No winning.