Streakers have car stolen.
Science-like building projects
Detailed recaps of T.V. Shows
Television Without Pity. I particularly liked The Apprentice recap
? My hair had a party last night ?
Either there is a bird in Austin that managed to swallow a tube of toothpaste, or a managed to leave for work this morning with a glob of toothpaste on my head. I don’t know why I happened to be touching the back top of my head but I was lucky to discover it and wipe it off early this morning before a coworker endured the conflict of staring at it and having to decide whether to tell me or not, and exactly what to say, “Excuse me, you have something bird-poopish on the back of your head”.
How in the world could I have gotten it? I don’t remember giving any rabid-looking but minty-smelling kid a shoulder ride. Don’t remember fumbling with my toothbrush and having it hit my head this morning. I don’t think David’s top-bunk had toothpaste I slept in that didn’t come out in the shower (what am I doing sleeping on the top bunk? Don’t ask). I guess it will remain a mystery stored in the annals of fatherhood. At least it wasn’t that new Green Hulk brandless toothpaste Jane let Kristen pick out. Hey, everything has a silver lining.
“What Classic Movie Are You?”
Isn’t that interesting? I don’t know if I can argue too much:The quick 9 question interview resutled in:
The long 45 question interview resutled in:
Flash cat
Digital Snow globe
snowglobe [via Dan Gillmer]
Can I speak to the manager
A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face closer to hers. When he does she begins to caress his beard.
“Are you the manager?” she asks, softly stroking his face
with both hands. “Actually, no,” the man replies. “Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him,” she says, running her hands beyond his
beard and into his hair. “I’m afraid I can’t,” breathes the bartender.
“Is there anything I can do?” “Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message,” she continues, running her forefinger across the bartender’s lips and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.
“What should I tell him?” the bartender finally manages to say.
“Tell him,” she whispers, “there is no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies room.”