Recommended: Both the film and the activity encouraged by Ray Charles in this scene.
Let’s go get stoned.
Subject: Storage of a grass skirt
Date: Sun, 5 Feb 2012 20:43:43
Wanted to ask if anybody has any recommendations about how to properly
store a grass skirt?
Dare to hope, aspire to succeed, strive to excel, stop making so many to-do lists.
You are most likely unaware of how many problems you face, and that’s a big problem.
Poised at the brink of precipitous disaster, a man must pull back and consider taking the long way around or perhaps a bridge.
That which does not kill you probably left a trail of evidence and is fully prosecutable.
A scoped rifle and a clock tower will get you onto the evening news.
Fight for what you believe, and fail at it. Get up and try again. By the third time, reconsider your commitment to such a stupid idea.
Throughout history there have been moments like these when we must reflect on history.
Never open with a funny story. You’re not very good at it.
According to new research on body language out of the University of British Columbia, women find happy men—in this study, men who were smiling in photos—significantly less attractive than men portraying other emotions.
You want two thick slices of meat loaf or three thin ones. Put mashed potatoes on the plate. Spoon some pan gravy on top. Butter two pieces of bread. Skip the green beans if you wish. Everything except the bread needs to be piping hot for this to work.
Unload the washer and transfer all of the clothes into the dryer. Medium heat for ninety minutes. Press the start button. Take that dog-eared poly-cotton blanket and make a little nest on the floor in front of the dryer. Sit on the blanket, with your back against the dryer door. Eat your supper.
but I am thinking that somebody should assume the mantle of The Sanitizer.
via Daring Fireball
How do you deal with the unbearable rudeness of strangers? I’m serious, here, guys. It’s starting to really affect my life.
It could be anything — the guy who cuts you off when you’re clearly waiting for the men’s room, the guy who switches to the fucking right lane after he sees the “right lane ends 1000 feet” sign, the elderly couple who really ought to know better than narrate through the entire showing of The Artist (even after you finally yell “hey” after he says “he didn’t do it” – BANG!), the woman who starts doing her makeup next to you on the train, the omnipresent imbeciles yelling into thin air (oh, they’re on the phone).
I’m thinking of never going to another movie again (damn kids nearly ruined Red Riding Hood for me), or moving to a cabin in the woods. I’ve been checking Craigslist for jobs, but so far, nothing.
From my friend Susan W:
Jehovah’s Witnesses made their annual visit to our house. They ended up asking for investment advice from Scott, but left a copy of the Watchtower for our consideration.
4. Walk with the devil
Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the “devil box.” And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you’re bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.
(From WFMU’s Beware of the Blog. Via Brian Beatty.)
I’m sharing a New Year’s tradition aimed at drawing wealth to you. I have no idea about its origins.
Take a bill or some coins and put the money in a plastic bag. The amount does not matter. Bury it outside your front door while saying, “I am burying my poverty.” Mark it with a stone or something you can find the next day. Seriously, people have not been able to find their buried money the next day. Do this on New Year’s Eve, before midnight. Then, on January 1, dig up the money while saying, “I am uncovering my wealth.” Do this anytime during the 24-hour period on New Year’s Day.
If you don’t have ground outside your door, not to worry, take a pot and bury your money there and place it outside your door or on the balcony. If that doesn’t work, take a bowl and cover the money with a wash cloth and put it beside the door. This is about symbolism and intent. Do not spend the money, ever. Put it away. Some say that if you spend the buried money, you’ll lose money.
If you follow these instructions, unexpected money will show up for you in the next year. Maybe because I believe, this always happens for me. Always. At least in the years the Iowan has not found, and spent, my buried money. I have heard about people who eventually have taken stacks of buried money and donated it to a good cause. For instance, they have donated it to a church or favorite charity and report all is well.
Or you could leave it tucked away in its individual sandwich bags in a hope chest or drawer. And laugh to think about what your heirs will think to find it.
This morning I noticed my toothbrush smelled like ass. I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t exactly yank it out of my mouth right away. I was thinking.
When I removed the brush I looked at it for a time. Then I sniffed it. It smelled pretty high at the base. Pretty extremely fucking stinky. I thought am I in the movies?! Who the hell has put my toothbrush up their ass, and doesn’t this clown know the right way to insert it?
Ahem. Turns out there was a simple answer. The silver goblet thing that holds the toothbrush was full of a terrible solution. The smell was primordial. It almost knocked me out.
Tip: use a transparent container for your toothbrushes, or create new stinky life in the home. And when you rinse the mouth, rinse the container. Simples.
How do I feel about this car?
Don’t eat so much. You don’t have to keep going until everything is gone. The Clean Plate Club is not looking for new members. You are already full, so why do you continue eating? You taste nothing.
Review your hardware-store shopping list. Arrange the items in two categories: things that must be fixed before they break something else, and parts for projects you will never start. Stop choosing tools based on whether you think they will outlast your span of years. Do not synthesize memories and likely scenarios as you did last time.
What are you supposed to do when you want to have sex more than your boyfriend does?
I suppose you’re right, but from my experience, writing a novel is like having sex with a gorilla. You ain’t done till the gorilla’s done. You might think, Well, when I’m done, I’ll be done. But you’re not done.The gorilla’s still going.
A Manuscript called “De Masticatione Mortuorum, Latin for “The Chewing Dead,” offered helpful tips for those facing the walking (or chewing) dead, and prescribed practical treatments such as the aforementioned brick-in-mouth.
More on the art & gothic psychogeography of Venice.
Exactly what underwear business is better for expecting a baby ladies ?
Commentary courtesy of Aunt Ida (Edith Massey), “Female Trouble” (John Waters).
On Saturday night, Jill, a blogger and founder of Feministe, flew from Newark airport to Dublin. After spending Sunday recovering from jetlag, she unpacked her bag on Monday morning and found a special message scrawled on the official form from the TSA. “GET YOUR FREAK ON GIRL,” it read.
“Guess they discovered a ‘personal item’ in my bag,” she tweeted. “Wow.”
Uh, yes, my name is ————. My telephone number is ————. The purpose of my call is I’m listening to public radio, and, uh, they’re talking about, uh, viral, uh, strains of, uh, birds. Uhhh, I was parked at Walmart, and a woman was feeding birds, and I said, “Ma’am, don’t do that,” I says, “Ya know, they they they know how to live on their own.” And, uh, the guy from Walmart came out, the manager of the store, and says, “Oh, you’re gonna have to leave here because, uh, the, uh, asphalt’s too weak for an RV.” And he was, it was pouring rain out; he was really acting like an idiot. I did call for the Centers for Disease Control, and they don’t seem to care what one way or another that people feed birds. And I just can’t imagine why, since birds spread diseases more than anything else, uh, why, uh, these people just aren’t taking it seriously. But. I’m sixty-six years old; I’ll be dead in a few years. So what difference does it make to me, ya know? It just it irritates me how ignorant we are, ya know? Umm, just don’t feed the birds, ya know? It’s crazy. They can fend, they know how to forage for themselves. And I love birds. I learned how to fly. I’ve been a pilot all my life. And, uh, airlines and corporate. And, uh, but, uh, you just don’t feed birds. That’s that’s craziness. Ya know, and I, but, uh, if more people, if they, uh, really know about it, then, uh, maybe they might do something about it. But, uh, there’s the other people that’s just gonna say, “Oh, hooey, I’ll feed birds whenever I feel like. It’s my right to do whatever I want to do, so.” Well. I guess that’s the case, ya know? Anyways. Take care. Bye.
Also: The related episode of WHYY’s Fresh Air.