I never expected to outlive Erica Kane.
Author - Chris Weagel
Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.
And what are we filling our days with?
Dog washing. Dog counting. Piling up on dogs in neat piles near the house.
Arranging dogs in such a manner as to build a house out of brick-shaped dogs.
DOG-BASED MATHEMATICS! DOG-INSPIRED LITERATURE! DEVELOPING ALLERGIES TO NEW BREEDS OF DOG AS THEY ARE CREATED BY UNCARING, MATERIALISTIC MAN!
The Centerline Laundromat vanished today. The whole building, its machines, chairs, windows, pipes, everything disappeared into thin air this afternoon. People's spinning, still wet clothing flung out in every direction. Freshly washed, clean socks tumbled onto the dirt as carts disappeared. The one-eyed man who always sleeps near the door fell over and sprained his hip when the soap-machine suddenly wasn't there to prop him up any more. Turns out the guy speaks only Portuguese. As of 11:30pm there's no sign of the building returning and less of an explanation as to why the laundromat disappeared while the tangled-cat factory across the street remained. Authorities say that people in that part of the city will stink more than usual due to forced wearing of soiled undergarments for at...
I saw a bald man walking along the edge of the road this morning. He was carrying a sign. It read "PROUD VEGAN" printed in green ink.
He was walking with purpose. But what purpose?
Was he just pre-emptively letting the world know his dietary concerns in case someone randomly invited him to dinner? Was it a warning not to get too close? The road was largely residential and without much traffic this time of day. Was he, ultimately, just trying to convince himself? Maybe he simply found the sign in his yard and his elbow and shoulder locked up.
As soon as I got back home I called the police.
They reminded me that they are no longer accepting reports from this number.
Now about this Bird Bath controversy. Claim 1: My son keeps having crows trying to attack him. He's afraid to go out in the yard. Response: Your son will eventually be taken by these crows to a terrible cave, high in the dark mountains that overlook our town and devoured alive. His fate has nothing to do with my bird bath. Claim 2: Your bird bath is haunted/invites evil spirits into the neighborhood. Response: My bird bath is not evil. What you are seeing are squirrels and/or orphaned children who also enjoy the opportunity to wash filth off their bodies. Claim 3: If I drink from your bird bath I will turn into a bird. Response: False. Try as you might you will not turn into a bird after drinking from my or any other bird bath. You will however, wake up with a thick white layer of foam...
We're gonna put you in a cage with a bunch of crazy people and make you sit real still.
And then we're gonna show you some carpet samples.
Really explore what we could do with this room. Open it up. Get some natural light in here. Convert that pile of TV Trays into some bookshelves. Maybe a free-standing trombone-style fireplace.
There's a lot of potential here for some nice dinner parties or just a morning exercise room.
The crazy people are great at narrowing down a color scheme that's not limiting. And you don't have to feed them, they eat their hair.
I feel like we're on the right path here.
"Not guilty, your honor." So said V, Jon VanTorre, our once and future king. How V found himself on the wrong side of an arcane, ancient law designed to trap escaped circus bears posing as humans was not important. What was important was the 80+ year sentence V was facing if things went south. "I can break stones, but I cannot break Father Time," V was overheard saying to a reporter. It was a frame up from the start. V knew it. The judge knew it. All of the townsfolk knew it too. Through his extensive charity work over the years V had made himself many powerful enemies at all levels of society. Each angry that his good works had revealed their interests to be the empty cardboard cereal boxes they were. "Gentlemen of the jury, you have here an uncontrollable force capable of tearing off...
AND TODAY, the Devil's doing Macremé. Why? Well he's always wanted to know just what it's all about. You always hear about it, but I don't know, Wheel's usually on or something. Just never had the time. It sounded great. I'm just so tired after work. (wait. Who's talking here? Me or the Devil? Who's moving these hands? Did you feel that? That cold breeze? Is that you Uncle Walt?) Well the Devil learned that Macramé (or macrame) is: a form of textile-making using knotting rather than weaving or knitting. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AN ENTIRE HOBBY-CRAFT FOCUSED ON INCESSANT, COMPULSIVE KNOT-TYING!? Well the Devil died that day and went himself to heaven. And so did I! And ever since, we've been putting quarter after quarter into...