November 18th, 2005

shake djibouti

(no subject)

gtrout writes:

So a friend has posted her personal experience of one of those New York stories. It’s not a new story, nor is it unique to NYC, but it’s a mournful one nonetheless. It’s the one about how there’s the smell that nobody in the building could quite agree on what it was, until the ambulances and the cops show up and you discover that the nice guy in the basement apartment, the one who used to play his music too loud, passed away peacefully in his Lay-Z-Boy about a week ago.

I feel the sympathy for the neighbors who have lost a friend. I feel the sorrow at the untimely death of the man in the recliner, at the way it took a week for somebody to feel his absence enough to come looking for him. I feel the chill at the smell of death that hasn’t yet left the front entryway. I feel all of these things.

But—and this is the part of which I am somewhat ashamed—I also found myself thinking, “I wonder what the apartment’s like? Does it have garden access?”

me pie glasses

missmiah gives as good as she gets

During a recent jaunt to her local walmart, missmiah ran into a shining example of customer service, and actually said one of those things I always wish I had the nerve to say in such situations:

Bought my groceries without incident and had high hopes for escaping without any random friendly conversation attempts (I think perhaps the Harry Potter gossip might have discourage people today) when I had to pause at the door to have my receipt checked by the door guy. And, apparently, the assistant door guy who fancies himself a humorist.

"I bet you really know how to cook, look at all that microwavable stuff. Pizza rolls, outstanding, your husband must be a happy man."

ANNNNDDD I snapped.

I snatched my receipt back and tucked it into my purse, offering the Nosey Bastard a friendly, innocent smile. "Oh, I don't have to cook, I'm great in bed. Have a good day."

So - yes, not going back to THAT particular Volde-Mart for awhile.


Not that anyone probably needs context, but there it is anyway.
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Knitty Bender

And here comes the line-up....

Ladies, gentlefolk, and whosiewhatsies!

Please give a big hand for your new.... Moderators! (insert cheering noises here)

Hailing from beautiful, Connecticut comes... velocityboy! don't let the icon fool you, ladies, he's all man!

caprinus is one baaaad ass moderator, but he ain't no dang dictator...

Next up, everyone's favorite arachnid, vaspider is gonna spin a web... of funneh!

bopeepsheep will work for cheap, bad posts, she'll help us find'em.

A newcomer to the modding game, but a passionate fella who plays by his own rules- joshualore!

And you know her, you love her, you can't wait to see her drunk with power... amandathegreat!

She works with monkeys, but doesn't throw poo- amalthya!


And I think that's plenty for now, thanks so much to everyone who volunteered!
Anxious, Klaus Baudelaire

The word on MS Word.

from the lovely misslynx here.

Has anyone ever noticed how when you quit Word (at least on OS X), it briefly puts up a little box saying "Word is saving Normal"?

You've got to wonder, is the mythical Normal really so endangered it needs surreptitious action by Microsoft to save it? Are we weirdos really making so much headway in the world? And how exactly is Word saving it, anyway? Is it using the collective power of our CPU cycles to suppress deviance and re-establish normality in some way? Like a non-consensual version of the SETI program? And what methods is it using to accomplish that, exactly?

And most importantly, is there some kind of patch I can install to opt out of the rescue project and allow Normal to be eliminated by natural selection?
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tango at a time by sam
  • woelfle

True words...

Having both been in a number of non life-threatening car accidents (most of mine while not actually in a car at all) we have various coping mechanisms. Mine is to hate all cars and insist that a nationwide system of trains and subways would be cheaper in the long run than highway building and maintenance, wars for oil, roughing up those pesky protestors over wars for oil, environmental cleanups of giant oil spills, and government-subsidised parking structures.


copperbadge in this post.
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Our Protector

(no subject)


My dad shows up the other night and brings me a fire extinguisher.

"You can use this for grease fires and regular fires, too," he says.

"What else would you use it for, Corrie?" asks Mom.

"Well," I say, "if the Voice of God shows up in my bedroom in a giant firecloud, I'll shoot it at him."

*parents look confused*


~phonographgirl

Kudos to everyone who rules enough to get the reference...

~Ami

(no subject)

abstrak_tokatl says in nativeamerican

"This was too good to not mention;

Last year I had this conversation with a customer in our small retail computer store;

"Can I help you?"
"I need to get memory for my computer."
"Okay," I say, accessing our database, "what kind?"
"What kind of what?"
"Of memory."
"For my computer."
Sigh.
"I realize this. What kind of computer, and what kind or size of memory."
"Oh... uh... I need it for my... my... Indian computer."
"Uh... I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the brand."
"Well, it's not called an Indian... that's just what I call it. It has an Indian name."
"I don't know of a brand with an Indian name." I think of the Toshiba tribe. Nope.
"Well, I figure it's an Indian computer. When I call for support, I get an Indian guy."
"Well, Sir, many help lines are out-sourced to India now."
"But, it had an Indian name... it was... Deli... a Dell! That's it. I've got a Dell!"
"How do you figure that's an Indian name, Sir?"
"Well, isn't that a place in India? New Delhi or something?"
"Uh... yes... but Dell is spelled D-E-L-L... NOT D-E-L-H-I."
"Well, maybe they got their name from New Delhi.""