For all of its rules, this is one of the Compound's that I can actually get behind:
This is the sticker outside of the sloth-like elevator in our building that measures a paltry 3'x4', which you have to have a special key to use, and which you MUST use to move in all of your furniture (moving in, of course, is made exceedingly difficult if you happen to have any furniture that is larger than the aforementioned 3' and 4' dimensions). These are Ridiculous Rules #36 and 72, respectively.
The only problem is, you look a little below this sign, and behold the laziness of the Compound:
A golden ashtray, a relic from what I'm assuming is the 1970s. Methinks it would have been a smarter solution to remove the ashtray from the wall than to slap a cheap sticker on it...their current approach is like telling a bank robber: "don't rob banks... but if you just happen to, I have a Swiss bank account you can store the stolen money in for undetectable safe-keeping." But what do I know about running an apartment complex?
PS: the Broken Association Rules (BAR) Tally sits at 7, thanks to us moving some bookshelves in at 11PM a couple weeks ago. You should have seen us stealthily scrambling between the truck and the elevator like thieves in the night.
Happy Monday! Hope you had a Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year.
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New Year's Resolution: Renew and deepen resolve to never get a neck tattoo. Ever. I think that's really all that needs to happen in 2011 in order for me to consider it a success.
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4:45AM wake-up. SeaTac Airport. And I feel like passing out like this dude next to me. Though perhaps I would not be wearing the powder blue sweatshirt or the skinny jeans. And I would be drooling on myself.
(I guess I shouldn't be complaining, as I am really just traveling on my way to more vacation...just can't sleep on planes...)
Happy Monday, all. Hope you have another nice short week.
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Holy cow. We had corndogs yesterday. They were AWESOME
You are so lucky that we gave you such an awesome wedding present...
You see. Every corndog you have ever had has been budget dog and batter
Exhibit A
Ben, of course, is a frequenter and skulker of woot.com, a website that sells items for cheap because most people do not want them. This is where he stumbled upon (hunted for? waited expectantly for?) the Corndog Maker (see Exhibit A), a device I didn't even know existed. Admittedly, I love corndogs, but their true value has always been in the fact that you never have to actually prepare or make them -- they always come frozen. So while I may have never considered owning one, it looks like I will be putting the Corndog Maker to use for years to come.
a man was inside his home when he became upset that headlights from a car on the street were shining into his bedroom. That's when police say he got into a fight with the man in the car.
The man from the house eventually picked up a wooden club and then investigators say that's when the man from the car pulled out a samurai sword.
What??
According to detectives, in the middle of the fight, the man with the sword sliced off three fingers from the man with the club.
Police say that the man was sent to an Indianapolis hospital to reattach his fingers...
Police are still hoping to talk to more witnesses and get a clearer picture of exactly what happened.
I'm nowhere close to where this happened, but I can paint a pretty clear picture for the Police: Samurai sword trumps wooden club every time, son.
This sounds like a scene out of Highlander or something. Can't you see the guy with the sword, silhouetted by the car's headlights and issuing some challenge? This only makes me more curious about the number of people roaming around with samurai swords. I fear I'm missing out on some trend.
--Via Email from JMill:
That was Tasmanian Devil-like. I guess that's what happens when you try to run hurdles that are taller than you. (Burn on the Chinese dude)
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If you're from the DC Metro area, seeing a Maryland license plate should reflexively fill you with some mixture of hostility, frustration, and most importantly, that old familiar sensation of overwhelming and uncontrollable road rage. This is inextricably programmed into my autonomic nervous system. MD drivers are the absolute worst. I guess I can't rightfully assert that all bad drivers are from Maryland, but I CAN tell you that every car that I've seen bearing a Maryland license plate contains a bad driver.
Just something I was thinking about the other day as I got cut off -- once again -- by a Maryland driver.
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