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This explains why I can never find a thimble when I need one...
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Well, I was trying to make a joke, but apparently some people have never watched Beavis and Butt-Head:
Twitter's subscription service, Twitter Blue, has been renamed @XBlue on the site... Verified users can now allow Blue subscribers to download their videos for offline viewing.
"Hey, NobodysHome! What are you doing?"
"Downloading XBlue videos for offline viewing.""...eew!..."
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Reality is consistently pre-empting my efforts to make jokes about it. This is... unsettling.
Well, I was trying to make a joke, but apparently some people have never watched Beavis and Butt-Head:
Twitter's subscription service, Twitter Blue, has been renamed @XBlue on the site... Verified users can now allow Blue subscribers to download their videos for offline viewing."Hey, NobodysHome! What are you doing?"
"Downloading XBlue videos for offline viewing."
"...eew!..."
Hellohello, HR? HR?!
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Hellohello, HR? HR?!Well, I was trying to make a joke, but apparently some people have never watched Beavis and Butt-Head:
Twitter's subscription service, Twitter Blue, has been renamed @XBlue on the site... Verified users can now allow Blue subscribers to download their videos for offline viewing."Hey, NobodysHome! What are you doing?"
"Downloading XBlue videos for offline viewing."
"...eew!..."
In Elon Musk companies, HR is called XR! And they harass you!
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In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"
So I had to kill a tiny earth paraelemental-fungal hybrid that felt like it had disturbingly woody flesh. I made both my Fort saves vs nausea, thought the second save just barely. It must have been fairly young, as it had no petrification or fungal infestation/spores defenses, and I don't feel like I received any XP for defeating it.
In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"
So I had to kill a tiny earth paraelemental-fungal hybrid that felt like it had disturbingly woody flesh. I made both my Fort saves vs nausea, thought the second save just barely. It must have been fairly young, as it had no petrification or fungal infestation/spores defenses, and I don't feel like I received any XP for defeating it.
You couldn't just re-home it? Like, to a nice little bit of nearby swampland? It's Florida. I'd ask, "What would Skink do?", but Skink doesn't usually sleep indoors, much less own a dishwasher.
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You couldn't just re-home it? Like, to a nice little bit of nearby swampland? It's Florida. I'd ask, "What would Skink do?", but Skink doesn't usually sleep indoors, much less own a dishwasher.In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"
So I had to kill a tiny earth paraelemental-fungal hybrid that felt like it had disturbingly woody flesh. I made both my Fort saves vs nausea, thought the second save just barely. It must have been fairly young, as it had no petrification or fungal infestation/spores defenses, and I don't feel like I received any XP for defeating it.
Our backyard is overrun with poison ivy, bamboo, some purple-leafed ground cover, morning glory, and Caine toads. I'm not turning loose anything new out there unless it preys on at least one of those.
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In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"
Euh! There's some places even *I* won't sleep dreaming...
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In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"Euh! There's some places even *I* won't sleep dreaming...
What's the Lovecraftian version of a Motel 6?
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Well, it's not a Motel 666, I assure you. We *will* leave the light on for you...
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What's the Lovecraftian version of a Motel 6?In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"Euh! There's some places even *I* won't sleep dreaming...
Based on the last Motel 6 I stayed at, the Lovecraftian version of a Motel 6 is... a Motel 6.
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...which, at the time, was one of the high crime areas of San Diego.
Night #1: I get dinner, sit down in my hotel room, and start watching the news. The top story is an armed robbery at a Motel 6 with the suspect still at large. I immediately recognize that it's my Motel 6. I turn out the lights, bolt the door, turn down the volume on the TV, and get to bed.
The next day it turned out that even though the street name was the same, the street in Chula Vista was NOT the same as the street in San Diego. I got help from a group of homeless people by the train tracks, took a train to the convention center, and more than once during the day was asked, "You're staying in Chula Vista? Are you sure that's safe?"
(Cute side note: That group of homeless people adopted me as their wayward clueless math professor and made sure I got safely to and from my motel every day. I really liked them.)
Night #2: While I didn't have the news on, there was a police helicopter chase right through my parking lot. I got to watch the guy running away, the helicopter spotlight on him, and everything. Exciting.
Night #3: After the lights were out and I was in bed, someone started banging loudly on my door and yelling in Spanish. I didn't answer. They sounded fairly drunk, and after a few minutes they wandered off.
And that was my 3-night stay in a Motel 6 in Chula Vista.
Dammit, I want to make a Hilbert/hotel joke but it's just too hot for my brain to function. Can someone remind me of this conversation in, say, October?
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In maybe unrelated news, the worst answer you can receive to "When was the last time you checked the filter in the bottom of the dishwasher?" is "There's a filter in the dishwasher?"
So I had to kill a tiny earth paraelemental-fungal hybrid that felt like it had disturbingly woody flesh. I made both my Fort saves vs nausea, thought the second save just barely. It must have been fairly young, as it had no petrification or fungal infestation/spores defenses, and I don't feel like I received any XP for defeating it.
>_>
<_<
There's a filter in the dishwasher? What?
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Me, late afternoon: {eats four cherry plums} "Oh, these are so goooood."
My brain, 5 minutes later: "Hey, sorry I'm late. You do remember that plums are just fresh prunes, right? And you know what prunes do you, right?"
Me: "Sonuvabiscuit!"
My brain: "Happy to be of help!"
You ever notice how all the books/movies whose message is "just be yourself" kind of are the same?
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Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
*spoing*
Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
what I wouldn't give for magical abilities so I can have you teach a very young Freehold. I assure you you would be saying much the same, with a few variations of phrase, far more often.
It just occurred to me that I don't have a plastic crack addiction; I'm an effective altruist that is using her financial resources to sequester carbon.
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Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
But it provides a range of essential vitamins and minerals!
But it provides a range of essential vitamins and minerals!Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
It was drizzling. The play structure was coated with cool rainwater.
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Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
You must have some really weird colleagues...
You must have some really weird colleagues...Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
I teach three- to six-year olds.
But, yes, I do have some really weird colleagues.
You must have some really weird colleagues...Things I never expected to hear myself saying at work, episode 3,471:
"PLEASE STOP LICKING THE PLAY STRUCTURE!"
I teach three- to six-year olds.
But, yes, I do have some really weird colleagues.
Your colleagues are six-year-olds?
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Stolen from elsewhere on the internet:
Fun English Game: place the word "only" anywhere in the following sentence:
"She told the paladin that she kills goblins."
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I really like that.
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I only really like that.
When you go to a holiday party but forget to bring your knitting and you're bored out of your mind. Does that happen to anyone else? Just me? Ah, good.
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"...and so the thing about bouldering, which I've really gotten into, is--Why are you unraveling your sweater?"
"No time to explain! Are there any g!@###n chopsticks around here?!"
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It just occurred to me that I don't have a plastic crack addiction; I'm an effective altruist that is using her financial resources to sequester carbon.
When things get hard, I like to remind myself that I'm really just a process for shuffling carbon around.
I know there's a popular Internet question about having to choose between fighting a horse-sized duck or 100 duck-sized horses. But this morning I learned my personal anxiety threshold for duck-sized ducks is less than six dozen of them. Especially when they are slowly walking like waves of military troops out of the underbrush and off the surface of the slough... toward me, the lone human they have correctly identified as their substitute food provider this early morning. They were eerily quiet with only a few truncated whisper-quacks that didn't sound like duck noises. Hitchcock would have chuckled approvingly at my distress.
They parted around my feet as I approached their food dishes, encircling behind me. And standing among a carpet of hungry ducks really pegged my unease into full-blown anxiety. Once I started pouring the corn & seed out for them, they exploded in a cacaphony of loud excited quacks and beating feathers as they started piranha-ing up the food. I hastily stingray-shuffled through the crowd thankfully forgotten in their feeding frenzy.
Inside the house, the three housecats got plenty of extra petting and attention as I calmed down. After the cats had eaten their breakfast and had their litter changed, I slipped outside. And only three ducks remained, likely scouts for the hidden horde. I was happy to get back inside the safety of the truck and drive out of there.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I know there's a popular Internet question about having to choose between fighting a horse-sized duck or 100 duck-sized horses. But this morning I learned my personal anxiety threshold for duck-sized ducks is less than six dozen of them. Especially when they are slowly walking like waves of military troops out of the underbrush and off the surface of the slough... toward me, the lone human they have correctly identified as their substitute food provider this early morning. They were eerily quiet with only a few truncated whisper-quacks that didn't sound like duck noises. Hitchcock would have chuckled approvingly at my distress.
They parted around my feet as I approached their food dishes, encircling behind me. And standing among a carpet of hungry ducks really pegged my unease into full-blown anxiety. Once I started pouring the corn & seed out for them, they exploded in a cacaphony of loud excited quacks and beating feathers as they started piranha-ing up the food. I hastily stingray-shuffled through the crowd thankfully forgotten in their feeding frenzy.
Inside the house, the three housecats got plenty of extra petting and attention as I calmed down. After the cats had eaten their breakfast and had their litter changed, I slipped outside. And only three ducks remained, likely scouts for the hidden horde. I was happy to get back inside the safety of the truck and drive out of there.
They WILL f+@* you up.
Zero fear and 100% aggression, especially where children are involved. Only geese are meaner.
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Happy News Year Eve to everyone!
Here in SW Florida, our current momma & poppa bald eagle couple laid a pair of eggs, and the first of them hatched just this morning (local streaming eagle cam).
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Happy News Year Eve to everyone!
Here in SW Florida, our current momma & poppa bald eagle couple laid a pair of eggs, and the first of them hatched just this morning (local streaming eagle cam).
Finally. Some wholesome and weirdo-free entertainment on the internet.
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I betrayed the poor stray fluffy cat's (Ricky Bobby aka Croak Monsieur) trust and lured him into the carrier this morning. The neighbor is taking him up to vets to get him checked for a microchip, get him some shots, and then try to comb out the burrs/shave out the matts in his fur. We're splitting the bill.
He is sooooo scared right now, his pupils are filling up his whole eyes, and he just makes occasional totally forlorn whisper-howls. I hope he comes through ok and comes back, even if he doesn't trust me anymore. Be safe little guy.
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I betrayed the poor stray fluffy cat's (Ricky Bobby aka Croak Monsieur) trust and lured him into the carrier this morning. The neighbor is taking him up to vets to get him checked for a microchip, get him some shots, and then try to comb out the burrs/shave out the matts in his fur. We're splitting the bill.
He is sooooo scared right now, his pupils are filling up his whole eyes, and he just makes occasional totally forlorn whisper-howls. I hope he comes through ok and comes back, even if he doesn't trust me anymore. Be safe little guy.
For what it's worth, he came through it all unscathed, which was probably obvious to everyone at the time except him and me. He's now chipped and has his shots; he's shaved but for his head, legs, and tip of his tail; and he's fixed, so no more chance of little Rickys all over the neighborhood. He spent the night inside against his wishes, but was back outside by 10AM, and by noon was seemingly back to being his usually goofy self (eating, climbing, napping, eating, exploring, eating, etc). I wish he was an indoor cat, but maybe with time and patience he can become an indoor-outdoor cat. But tonight and the next several days, the temps will be pretty mild, and he's got five different elevated, dry spots out of the wind, each with either some kind of cushion or towels to sleep on and stay safe. If I keep a closer eye on his fur from now on and keep him combed out, he'll likely be fine.
Last night I caught the other (girl) cat licking the small possum that regularly visits. I'm not sure what is up with that. I'm not sure the possum knows what was going on either. Before I've seen her watch the possum unafraid as it wanders close and sometimes make a gentle claws-retracted tap or two on the possum, but the licking is new to me. I don't know if this is some reawakened momma cat grooming instinct (she's fixed), or the possum rolled in something nasty-to-humans but tasty-to-cats, or maybe she thought possum friend might be prey. Possum tolerated the licking and wasn't playing dead or running. When I got closer, possum waddled off and girl cat made no effort to chase it.
I guess if you spend enough time in Florida, it's inevitable you end up weird.
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Motion to add "Well if that isn't just the cat grooming the possum" to the lexicon of Common Southern Expressions.
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My teakettle is grey.
I think I'm going to paint thin stripes, red, yellow, and blue, across it so that when it boils, I can say, "Shut up, Whistle-y!" with an RSC accent.
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That's why you never see a design for a Klingon coffeemaker: It's way too early to be upright and awake, you need a double raktajino to get going, you get the machine prepped to brew... and the etDaq machine swears at you before cloaking itself and your caffeine fix!
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Klingon Koffee Maker would be a great band name.
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Or an extremely sordid sex act!
I vote for that last one.
I vote for that last one.
We're gonna need a bigger bat'leth.
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Klingon Koffee Maker would be a great band name.
Or an extremely sordid sex act!
goblin babies say, "¿Porque no los dos?" {proceeds to pour Shimmer™ dessert topping/floor wax over bowl of B&J's Deerfly Garcia ice cream}
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Klingon Koffee Maker would be a great band name.Or an extremely sordid sex act!1d4 goblin babies say, "¿Porque no los dos?" {proceeds to pour Shimmer™ dessert topping/floor wax over bowl of B&J's Deerfly Garcia ice cream}
paladins: "Wot's all this then?"
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1d4 paladins: "Wot's all this then?"Klingon Koffee Maker would be a great band name.Or an extremely sordid sex act!1d4 goblin babies say, "¿Porque no los dos?" {proceeds to pour Shimmer™ dessert topping/floor wax over bowl of B&J's Deerfly Garcia ice cream}
"Cheese it! It's the rozzers!" { goblin babies flee}
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QUIBBLEMUCH’S LAW OF CLONE INEFFICIENCY: Any time you'd save having extra hands is more than lost to having to battle them to the death over who is 'real'.
QUIBBLEMUCH’S LAW OF TEMPORAL MANIPULATION FOR TASK STREAMLINING: Any time you'd save by manipulating time is more than lost having to try to fix timelines after you accidentally kill your own grandpa as a child.
ADDENDUM: It gets exponentially worse when you develop both--then you accidentally kill your clone's grandpa as a boy and he creates other time-clones who hunt you down for revenge. Total cluster.