[ https://www.reddit.com/r/ShitBrix/ ]

The downstairs toilet is bricked.

The current collective opinion is, if people have to remove the toilet in order to unclog the pipe, then this is a great opportunity to install a new one.

A chunk of my day was spent looking up toilet specs and figuring out which ones were available. Home Depot then proceeded to fuck this up (with help from the quirks of the local network and browsers and house blippy connection) by:
* not letting Steph add the toilet to the cart
* saying my cart was empty even though it had successfully added three things to it and was working on a fourth
* completely failing to let Steph log in
* claiming the nearby HD was suddenly out of the toilet in question

Unrelated, Steph has been considering putting an obstacle such as a planter in a place to prevent the neighbors we don't like from having an angle to view anything that's in the basement. I have cheerfully suggested that perhaps a decommissioned toilet could become an ironic planter.

The lease does not suggest anywhere that annoying that set of neighbors is approved-of. And yet, perhaps some of us might want to channel our inner Dave Striders.

Today I learned that you can only fit about 4 relatively large latex helium balloons in one of those zip-up blue tarp duffel bags from IKEA. The cluster of balloons associated with a certain glad-you're-back cheerful bunch of flowers destined for the desk of a certain Overlady contained 5 balloons.

Now picture the Reverend Lunatic, wearing black from top to toe with the exception of a blue-tipped braid and a navy-blue cane, a classic sufferer of Bitchy Resting Face, carrying a very large blue IKEA zipper bag as if it weighed approximately nothing, with a single cheerful balloon rising from a ribbon coming out the middle where the two ends of the zipper meet.

I'd like you to picture that very hard, because it's likely that no such thing will ever happen again.

(Well, until the next time I need to transport balloons and the trunk is full.)



[00:48] azurelunatic: Today Outlook began giving me shitfits
[00:49] azurelunatic: it decided that email from my junior researcher and manager was spam, and that I didn't need to view headers
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: yow
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: I thought our spam filter was separate from [the previous thing]/exchange
[00:49] azurelunatic: it is!
[00:50] azurelunatic: But that didn't stop plucky little outlook from deciding to apply its own
[00:50] azurelunatic: which was set on default of "no, really, this shouldn't catch any actual mail"
[00:50] azurelunatic: WELP
[00:51] azurelunatic: I complained to poor [Purple] about this.
[00:51] azurelunatic: His commentary was along the lines of "You missed a 'fucking' there, before 'default'."
[00:52] azurelunatic: (the paragraph already contained "fucking" about six times, so I could be forgiven for not typing it again)


Later, Purple made a cognitive leap [editor's note: apparently the concept of "cognitive leap" tied to Jack-in-the-Crack ranch sauce is a deja-vu anchor point for me] from the mention of a fairly arbitrary number in the 70s to trombones. "But there were 76 trombones," I said. "Where did the [difference] end up?"

"In the closet?" he guessed. "With a flute?"

I began facepalming steadily. Scotty, late of Much Ado About Star Trek, plays the trombone. If he were to be caught in the closet with anybody...

I indicated that it was possible that more than one character from my 1994 novel, the one that started when my friend "Bugs" (the one who had drummed on my head) tried to set up the cute little nerd girl with the cute little nerd boy because they both liked Star Trek, might be invading my ~2004 novel, and that in the original, Scotty had had a certain problem with gayness, particularly the idea that his BFF Jeff might be gay for him. His BFF Jeff who might well have played the flute. "HOW MANY CHARACTERS FROM THIS THING ARE GOING TO START INVADING?!?!" I asked.

"So you'd say they're getting the band back together?" Purple said. "Just think of the repercussions," he threw in as an afterthought.

My mouth opened. My mouth closed. My mouth went sideways. No words came out.

Apparently that was the most bizarre expression he'd seen on me to date. "What did I say? 'Getting the band back together'? What? You've poked me so many times that if this were on Facebook I'd have been hit with a sheep by now."

"Repercussions," I finally managed.

He hadn't even realized it.

Honorable sentients: my friend Purple.

• Thu, 14:42: Uncle Davy wanted to carve "For a good time, call" in my dad's outhouse. I suggested the UAF atomic clock number.
• Thu, 18:25: FUCK ON A TRUCK CAR WON'T START BUS TIME
• Thu, 18:27: Transit estimate puts me home after 10 with 1 bus to spare
• Thu, 18:30: Anybody who feels like researching palo alto mechanics feel free
• Thu, 18:35: Possibly battery, no time to summon security.
• Thu, 18:36: Security can do jump starts.
• Thu, 19:45: RT @courtneytrouble: Get Fisting Day T Shirts, Stickers, and Greeting Cards! http://t.co/MgC0aHRkMh designed by NOMY LAMM you guys!!!
• Thu, 21:15: Alas waiting again for bus.
• Thu, 23:23: Safely home. Tired. Fantastically cranky in potentia.
• Fri, 00:17: Invisible corn. Carlos knee-deep in invisible polenta, wearing his second-best "what even is my life" face; Cecil narrates. @infamousfiddler

( Read more... )

So in the shower I had an amazing idea for a social media service where people could not only share their favorite examples of clever wordplay, but there would be a smart engine that would try and detect similarities both the obvious way (if it's over a certain percentage the same, is it essentially the same one?) and perhaps by theme, if the submitters or others in their trust network tag them.

It would be called ...
( wait for it )

So there I was, sitting with my dinner of ramen and spiced vinegar cucumber salad, when this big rooster decided to join me. Nice large fellow, a lovely Blue Laced Red Wyandotte that they said was named Spiderman. And he hops up next to me, regards my dinner, and before I can really do anything, reaches into the salad bowl and grabs a slice or two of cucumber!

Yes, Peter Parker pecked his pick of peppered pickles.


*duck*



(Hat tip to exor674 for pointing out my original joke was missing the Peter bit. I really did have the ramen, and I'm finishing my second serving of delicious, delicious peppered pickles.)



Japanese-inspired cucumber salad, or, Azz cooks to taste without a recipe again:

Cucumber(s)
Salt (I used smoked salt)
Sugar (I used raw sugar)
Vinegar (I used rice vinegar with a splash of balsamic)
black pepper
black sesame seed and salt (possibly found next to the seaweed sheets)
Grater & slicer

Rinse cucumber. You don't know where it's been.

Run the cucumber lengthwise over the grater so the rind comes off in strings. You can leave some on if you want. Keep the strings, as they're an excellent garnish.

Slice cucumber thin enough to be transparent. This is why you want the slicer. Removing the rind makes it less likely to jam. Don't slice your fingers.

Cover in salt and sugar, add vinegar. Let sit a bit.

Add a scant grind of pepper and the sesame seed. Fish out some of the rind strips and a few slices of cucumber to make the ramen look pretty.

Eat.

New:
From The Office of Admiral Desplains -- contains a brief quote from Captain Vorpatril's Alliance, which is the introduction of a running joke. Also contains snakes.

Old:
McSweeney's: FAQ: THE “SNAKE FIGHT” PORTION OF YOUR THESIS DEFENSE.

Badgers.

synecdochic's "Broken Wings" SG1 AU: "a howling in the factory yard" ... beware of fucking snakes.


Unrelated:
Someone please remind me that I should probably not file a ticket with site services entitled: "Bug report: running too fast", because while site services are legitimately the people to go to, and it is a legitimate bug report, and the description encompasses the problem pretty well, it is also not a literal bug report, as I know my hemiptera pretty well on sight, and this was an entirely different order of problem.

Skud shares one instance of #dw's general hilarity.

This is, um, especially for someone who knows full well who he is.

( NSFW logo. )