Back door friends are best. Fail.
One of my mother’s knick knacks. She has had it hanging by her door for probably two decades. Submitted to failblog.org. I hope they use it.
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Several scientists die and go to heaven. They decide to play hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting to 100. Everyone else starts hiding, except Newton – he draws a square that is one meter by one meter and stands in it. When Einstein opens his eyes, he finds Newton standing in front of him.
Einstein says, “Newton’s out! Newton’s out!”
Newton denies it and claims that he is not Newton. All the scientists come out, so he proves that he is not Newton.
How?
Newton explains, “I am standing in a square with an area of one square meter, which means that I am actually Pascal….since one newton per square meter = one pascal.
“So, really, Pascal is OUT.”
via matthewhelmke.net.
Apparently my New Years resolution isn’t going that well, but I guess most people don’t get that far either.
I got a much needed root canal on my broken molar yesterday. It hurt like a bitch, but I got some nitrous oxide (to keep me from going berserk when they pulled a needle on me) so I didn’t really care. It got me out of work for a day too. And thanks to my lovely Vicadin prescription, I can get out of doing too much for a while.
Laughing gas sure lives up to its name, though. It didn’t take long to kick in, and it was much, much better than any of the drugs I used to do. In fact, if I had access to it back then, I wouldn’t have ever done anything else. Everything felt all “floopy”, I kept fading in and out of cohesive thought, and everything was funny. I felt like my mind was running a kilometer a minute, but in hindsight I don’t think it was running at all, it was barely taking a leisurely stroll.
For some reason everythign reminded me of the old game Blaster Master. Now I have to go download myself an emulator.
I don’t think John Lennon is really dead.
I know, I know, you have been hearing this about Sixpack Shakur, Elvis, and about half the other celebs that die for years, but I still think so.
I can accept evil in this world. I can accept the Hitlers and Hussains, the Stalins and Pol Pots, the Bushs and Kim Jong Ils.
But I just can not accept that we live in a world where John Lennon dies yet Yoko Ono lives.
I’m a decent, underpaid, hardworking county coroner. It’s important that my family eat meat at least three times a week, but we just can’t afford to with prices the way they are. So I bring home some choice cuts from my autopsy subjects — just mix in the tuna helper and ta-da!
My whole family thinks my new meals are delicious. They ask me what’s my secret. Abby, I think they’re getting suspicious. My smart ass eight-year-old asks where’s the meat, the red dye #2 kind that goes in the fridge. If I tell them the truth I don’t think they’d understand. Abby, what do I tell my family?
Dear Reagonomics Victim
Consult a clergyman. Make sure the body’s blessed and everything should be just fine.
