From mrmonkeybottoms here (whole post):
Today I bought a treadmill. The best part about buying the treadmill was sneaking over to the rubber upper-body punching man and punching him in the face when the salesman wasn't looking. My question is: who buys a rubber upper-body punching man and punches him to work out instead of buying, oh, I dunno, a punching bag? Who needs to hit a fake man? Maybe angry feminists. I wonder if you can special order them to look like your enemy. Then you could practice kicking their asses until the day you finally meet up with them in the bar and you're all, "Oh! You! I'm gonna kick your ass till you cry like a little bitch!" and then you get your ass kicked because all this time you've been practicing beating the crap outta a guy that doesn't actually move. So that's not a good plan. I just felt I should warn you all in case you were thinking of doing that.
From geekwriter143 here:
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From darksylvia here:
I also saw Brokeback Mountain. It was...bleak. I think all the actors and actresses did a wonderful job, but sincerely, the main lesson I took away from it was: Don't, under any circumstances, live in rural Wyoming. Also, even as cute as Jake Gyllenhal is, he STILL can't pull off a mustache. (Yes, I know it was the 70's. THIS IS NO EXCUSE).
"This soda tastes of cheap plastic and formaldehyde; it's like drinking the ceremonial burial draught of one of Strawberry Shortcake's dearest friends. Maybe you can't spell slaughter without laughter, but that doesn't mean that my soda should be conjuring up horrible visions of Viking funerals being conducted by the good citizens of Berryland."
I had to look pilates up and according to dictionary.com it is “a method of physical and mental exercise involving stretches and breathing that focus on strengthening the abdominal core”. Now I do quite a lot of breathing (I find it makes staying alive so much easier) and I do a number of stretches (generally to easy some part of me I have managed to injure, in some mysterious fashion), which are physical and metal exercises, and my abdominal core must be pretty strong (based on cross-sectional area if nothing else!). Does this mean I do pilates without knowing it?
Most people don't know this, but it's a scientific fact that Star Trek and College football are exact, polar opposites. Like baking soda and vinegar.
If you mix them together they get all fizzy.
Context? The relative merits of Stargate, Battlestar Galactica, Star Trek and NCAA football are debated here.
Original post: http://www.livejournal.com/users/uninnocent/38524.html?view=209532#t209532
Re: British Adam
Unattainability is directly proportional to the amount of wantage. Sadly. :|
bastmoon resently visited today's Google homepage:
Google's homepage is in Braille today. I find that cool. And amusing, b/c I'm picturing Helen Keller brushing her fingers over a computer screen and getting frustrated.
greenbirds: Surgeon general's warning: Eating too many Lucky Charms will cause you to pee tie-dye and poo little multicolored marshmallow shapes.
venatic: and every third grade boy in the country makes a mad dash for the cereal aisle
from venatic here
This girl is banging on my door in a leather coat and what appears to be make up that's been applied by either 1. Helen Keller, or 2. a toddler that was having a seizure. She tells me she's from 'butchers choice' and has a lot of meat she wants to sell me. I'm confused because generally I do not buy door to door meat. She's telling me she has filet minon for '$3 a cut'.
Now there are a few things I've learned in life, and one of them is, 'don't buy your meat off a strange truck'. A pick up truck with a cooler attached to the back of it seems like, well, not a refridgerated meat truck. So I politely tell her that my freezer is full and I do not have space for her meat. She tells me that 'If I have room for bread I have room for her meat'. I decline again.
She tells me that I'm afforded this special opportunity because 'The lady down the block that ordered the meat spent $70 and she died so I need to sell it.'
She also tries to aussage my fears by saying that 'they're vacuum sealed just in case'.
In case of what?
Emergency? Crack vacuum seal?
Also, I just saw an ad for Brokeback Mountain on the other night. I am not sure why I was surprised there was absolutely zero indication of Gay Cowboy Love. Seriously, vaguest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life. I can see, logically, why they would do that, but I can't help wondering how many good old boys are going to show up to the theater expecting to see a morally sound film about the ENTIRELY PLATONIC love of a pair of cowboys, braving the elements together and forming an unshakable and yet ENTIRELY PLATONIC bond against the backdrop of an America from a simpler time of ENTIRELY PLATONIC manlove.
In Which The Editing Causes Our Heroine's Brain To Snap. Again.
So many commas...commas everywhere...like the hoofprints of tiny commalopes...pounding on punctuated feet across my monitor, crushing everything in their path. They'll find me splayed out across the chair, an expression of appropriately hackneyed stark terror 'pon my face, with the Mark of the Commalope stamped into my forehead.
If, through rapidly applied cardio-whatsit paddles, I am briefly roused, I will gaze blindly up into the face of the EMT and grasp his lapels in shaking fingers and whisper "...ia...you must know...it was not me...it was...the commas...the commas in the walls!"
EDIT: Check out this hilarious post.
Also, I did a piece of art based on an earlier meta.