At long last, the last piece is set. All is in it's place, and about time, too.
Nearly a month after moving in, today I got my long desired Queen sized bed. That's right - livin' large, sleepin' large and maybe even watchin' DVDs large, because, you know, in a bedsit, there's only so many places you can fit a bed and a screen, and neither would go well in the loo or the kitchen. So there, a busy Friday, with all the delivering, the assembling, the removing of both old small beds and the thorough cleaning of the house (that was overdue, really, but I knew the delivery and assembly would be messy, so I just kept waiting), but it was worth it. I just wished I could have left less of the tasks above for others (all I really did was clean up after them), but it's going to be six more weeks until I'm allowed to make efforts, courtesy of my not missed at all hernia - good riddance to that!
And now to enjoy my just-the-way-I-want-it flat - I even gave myself a purple and pink lava lamp, it goes nicely with my plasma lamp.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark now qualifies as a bachelor, seeing as he now has his very own bachelor pad. That's right, ladies, he's single and available. Come get him! One at a time, please.
And the award goes to...
It's a bit early to say. In fact, I don't even know who the nomenees are. And, most importantly, I wonder if we're all clear on what the award is for anyway. So let's address those questions, shall we?
Seeing as this is MY blog, you don't have much of a choice.
This is the "Try a Little Softer" award for 2007. I suppose you all know the history behind this award. If you don't, here's the skinny. The Great (see, not great, but Great) radio host Nuno Markl, in one of his books inspired by his radio segment "The Man Who Bit The Dog", established this award for feats of great (and greatly misused) strenght. The first winner ever for this award was a man from Sydney, whose tale I will summarise in a brand new segment here at Shark Nibbles called:
Tales from Down Under:
This devious man from Sydney was a theif, but no common theif. He thought big. His heist would be to rob an ATM machine from a suburban building. And how would he choose to do that? By battering said building with a mobile crane. To no avail, that was, other than wrecking the building itself. Had it not been night, the building wouldn't have been empty, and casualties would have ensued, but, as luck would have it... The ATM, however, even after the building's collapse, stood adamant (remind me to get me some Aussie ATMs. I see potential), and forced the wrongdoer into a hasty retreat. Now, a hasty retreat whilst comandeering a mobile crane is somewhat less than a trivial matter. In his haste, he knocked down a power post, plunging the whole suburb into darkness. Police officers would soon find him weeping at the wheel of his parked vehicle, bangign his head against said wheel.
Crikey, mate, try a little softer.
And so, it's time for an early nomination for the 2007 award. The nomenee is none than my fridge. that's right, my fridge. Get this: I like to keep sody pop around the house. A little fizz every now and then is good for you. Unfortunately, I can't always get my favourde brand in handy two liter bottles, or bottles at all, and I'm forced to resort to tin cans. Now, I don't much care for tin cans, because I like a swig every now and then, and tin can's aren't that flexible. So I open up this can, have my swig and put it back in the fridge (not the freezer, the fridge). Next time I go for a swig, there are icicles floating around the soda. Lime flavoured, not plain moisture icicles. The fridge (again, fridge, not freezer) froze my soda. Wow.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark wonders how exposing the very resilient ATM from Sydney to his freezer would have worked out. I know: cool Austrailian Dollars.
Seeing as this is MY blog, you don't have much of a choice.
This is the "Try a Little Softer" award for 2007. I suppose you all know the history behind this award. If you don't, here's the skinny. The Great (see, not great, but Great) radio host Nuno Markl, in one of his books inspired by his radio segment "The Man Who Bit The Dog", established this award for feats of great (and greatly misused) strenght. The first winner ever for this award was a man from Sydney, whose tale I will summarise in a brand new segment here at Shark Nibbles called:
Tales from Down Under:
This devious man from Sydney was a theif, but no common theif. He thought big. His heist would be to rob an ATM machine from a suburban building. And how would he choose to do that? By battering said building with a mobile crane. To no avail, that was, other than wrecking the building itself. Had it not been night, the building wouldn't have been empty, and casualties would have ensued, but, as luck would have it... The ATM, however, even after the building's collapse, stood adamant (remind me to get me some Aussie ATMs. I see potential), and forced the wrongdoer into a hasty retreat. Now, a hasty retreat whilst comandeering a mobile crane is somewhat less than a trivial matter. In his haste, he knocked down a power post, plunging the whole suburb into darkness. Police officers would soon find him weeping at the wheel of his parked vehicle, bangign his head against said wheel.
Crikey, mate, try a little softer.
And so, it's time for an early nomination for the 2007 award. The nomenee is none than my fridge. that's right, my fridge. Get this: I like to keep sody pop around the house. A little fizz every now and then is good for you. Unfortunately, I can't always get my favourde brand in handy two liter bottles, or bottles at all, and I'm forced to resort to tin cans. Now, I don't much care for tin cans, because I like a swig every now and then, and tin can's aren't that flexible. So I open up this can, have my swig and put it back in the fridge (not the freezer, the fridge). Next time I go for a swig, there are icicles floating around the soda. Lime flavoured, not plain moisture icicles. The fridge (again, fridge, not freezer) froze my soda. Wow.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark wonders how exposing the very resilient ATM from Sydney to his freezer would have worked out. I know: cool Austrailian Dollars.
Video time
Embedded, too. So, first things first - copyright issues. Before we start posting (and thus freely distributing) copyrighted material obtained from acquaintances who assure you they hold copyright of whatever they're allowing you to use freely for as long as you credit them, setting you ripe for theyir rightful owner to righteously sue, this is already freely distributed by the prefered means of Times magazine person of the year (2006), i.e., YouTube. And, in case you're wondering about the above little tail of copyright and other legal travails, yes, I'm one of the people to whom that never happened. Onwards, then.
Right off the bat:
How about that? Readily avilable to anyone who can afford it (or acquire it any other way). And since it's classified as a sports weapon, you need only a run of the mill permit for it. (I'm not positive on this point. Could someone elaborate?) Even Homer Simpson could own up to three of them. But wait, let's watch some more:
Wicked awesome, eh?
Sure, you would need some crazy marksmanship skills to shoot eight randomly thrown clay birds in as many shots holding the gun upside down above your head with minimal if any bracing at all, but I invite you to imagine what some disgruntled common mortal could do with one of those things in a crowded place. It doesn't take years of practice to wreak some serious havoc with a gun that can shoot 12 shells in less than 2 seconds. Even I reckon I could poke someone's eye out with one of those things - and I systematically make a fool - nay, a noob - out of myself everytime I dabble in Counter Strike or Unreal Tournment. I mean, you can easily conceal one of those things under a trench coat (suppose you strap it to your back, off to one side. It might not be very comfortable, but it could work) and smuggle it to a myriad of places. Heck, in most banks I've ever been to, you could smuggle it in, no problem.
I'm sure that any argument along the lines of "We make the gun for sporting ends only and it's not our fault someone ends up using it the wrong way" lets the good folks at Beretta sleep comfortaby at night, knowing that they've spent quite the considerable ammount developing a likely implement of death and suffering whereas there is still no cure for cancer, and likely recieved their investment back tenfold - and cancer research might still be underfunded. Good job, lads.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark really has nothing against Beretta or professional sports marksmen or marksmen of any sort per se, but isn't it a fair point that where weapons are concerned we've done quite enough and perhaps it would be best to focus our energies in towards less destructive ends?
This post goes out with a
Right off the bat:
How about that? Readily avilable to anyone who can afford it (or acquire it any other way). And since it's classified as a sports weapon, you need only a run of the mill permit for it. (I'm not positive on this point. Could someone elaborate?) Even Homer Simpson could own up to three of them. But wait, let's watch some more:
Wicked awesome, eh?
Sure, you would need some crazy marksmanship skills to shoot eight randomly thrown clay birds in as many shots holding the gun upside down above your head with minimal if any bracing at all, but I invite you to imagine what some disgruntled common mortal could do with one of those things in a crowded place. It doesn't take years of practice to wreak some serious havoc with a gun that can shoot 12 shells in less than 2 seconds. Even I reckon I could poke someone's eye out with one of those things - and I systematically make a fool - nay, a noob - out of myself everytime I dabble in Counter Strike or Unreal Tournment. I mean, you can easily conceal one of those things under a trench coat (suppose you strap it to your back, off to one side. It might not be very comfortable, but it could work) and smuggle it to a myriad of places. Heck, in most banks I've ever been to, you could smuggle it in, no problem.
I'm sure that any argument along the lines of "We make the gun for sporting ends only and it's not our fault someone ends up using it the wrong way" lets the good folks at Beretta sleep comfortaby at night, knowing that they've spent quite the considerable ammount developing a likely implement of death and suffering whereas there is still no cure for cancer, and likely recieved their investment back tenfold - and cancer research might still be underfunded. Good job, lads.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark really has nothing against Beretta or professional sports marksmen or marksmen of any sort per se, but isn't it a fair point that where weapons are concerned we've done quite enough and perhaps it would be best to focus our energies in towards less destructive ends?
This post goes out with a
The Exile alone knows...
Let's begin with a show of hands, shall we? Who here is familiar with the Star Wars universe? And how many of those know of the D&D based RPG Knights of the Old Republic? How about the sequel, Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords? That few... Well, then, for all the others, here's the skinny:
The game puts the player in the role of The Exile an ordinary (cannonically) woman, though you can play as a male character (for a different game experience), with no recollection of her past - or her name, for that matter. AS the game begins, she comes to her senses in a kolto (go look it up) tank, and soon after discovers she has the innate ability to use the Force.
As the game progresses, she discovers she is a former Jedi whose connection to the Force has been severed following a trial for her deeds in times of war, and, depending on your choices, will take revenge from a scattered Jedi Council or redeem herself and unite the fleeing Jedi Masters into a new Council.
Menwhile, by way of the many in-game conversations with party members and NPCs, having one's connection to the force severed is described as alike to losing all of one's senses at once. I think I know how that would feel...
You should know of my travails with moving to a house with no utilities. Those were short-lived (thankfully). I moved in on a Sunday, got my accounts on the following Monday and, by Tuesday, all utilities had been connected. All but one... Well, two, if you consider natural gas (I'm still using a Butane canister), but still, all but an all-important one: Cable!
I can live without Cable TV, sure. Without Cable Internet, not so sure. I requested a service migration on Monday, to be effective no sooner than Thursday (I didn't make that rule...), and then, by Thursday, at about 8 p.m., after a delayed instalation and only 4 hours of service, my connection to the Force, I mean, the Internet became severed. Only yesterday did it come up again. So, if you take out the weekend (going home, to an inferior, but active Internet connection), it was still 6 days without Web access and that felt like losing a lot of senses at once... phew!
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark recalls some ominous chance that, should the exile ever regain his connection to the Force, echoes in the force would be created so that every single Force sensitive creature in the universe would perish. Lock up your children.
The game puts the player in the role of The Exile an ordinary (cannonically) woman, though you can play as a male character (for a different game experience), with no recollection of her past - or her name, for that matter. AS the game begins, she comes to her senses in a kolto (go look it up) tank, and soon after discovers she has the innate ability to use the Force.
As the game progresses, she discovers she is a former Jedi whose connection to the Force has been severed following a trial for her deeds in times of war, and, depending on your choices, will take revenge from a scattered Jedi Council or redeem herself and unite the fleeing Jedi Masters into a new Council.
Menwhile, by way of the many in-game conversations with party members and NPCs, having one's connection to the force severed is described as alike to losing all of one's senses at once. I think I know how that would feel...
You should know of my travails with moving to a house with no utilities. Those were short-lived (thankfully). I moved in on a Sunday, got my accounts on the following Monday and, by Tuesday, all utilities had been connected. All but one... Well, two, if you consider natural gas (I'm still using a Butane canister), but still, all but an all-important one: Cable!
I can live without Cable TV, sure. Without Cable Internet, not so sure. I requested a service migration on Monday, to be effective no sooner than Thursday (I didn't make that rule...), and then, by Thursday, at about 8 p.m., after a delayed instalation and only 4 hours of service, my connection to the Force, I mean, the Internet became severed. Only yesterday did it come up again. So, if you take out the weekend (going home, to an inferior, but active Internet connection), it was still 6 days without Web access and that felt like losing a lot of senses at once... phew!
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark recalls some ominous chance that, should the exile ever regain his connection to the Force, echoes in the force would be created so that every single Force sensitive creature in the universe would perish. Lock up your children.
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