3-hour wait for a fast-food burger

(Via Diary of Fools):

I weep for the species.

Jack Kerouac – Woody Allen’s Manhattan

Tofu underwear

From Ethical Fashion :

Amazingly, these gorgeous black stretch ‘shorty’ pants are made from 57% soybean. You’ll never look at tofu in quite the same way again.

Stretch shorties with ribbon trim, £37
57% soybean, 37% organic cotton & 6% spandex
By Enamore

(What’s more, they’re only 50 calories apiece!)

No more drinking and riding

So people got sloshed on the London tube this past Saturday.

Wazzat? Sloshed? As in drunk? You can do that? You can actually drink alcohol on the London Underground? You can nurse a six-pack on a London bus? You can knock back double shots of JD on a double-decker?

Why wasn’t I informed of this?? I was in London in 2006 and no one thought to mention this crucial bit of information to me? No travel guide reported that I could hooch-up? Bastards!

Alas, it looks like Mayor of London Boris Johnson decided that enough is enough: no more looking green as a plant at Picadilly Circus. No more barfing all the way between Green Park and King’s Cross. No more waking up at West Kengsington and screaming, “Oh shit! I was supposed to get off at Hyde Park!”

On may 31st, the very last “Ride while you’re pissed” even took place to commemorate the coming of the alcohol ban on all public transport. Now, London residents and tourists everywhere will suffer the ignominy of having to get hammered before boarding the train. Am I the only one who realizes that you can’t possibly figure out those automated ticket machines after five pints of Guinness, three pints of Kilkenny, six chasers of bourbon, three shots of Tequila, four rounds of sherry Wine with those cute girls from Minnesota, and two pints of Smithwick’s for the road?

Well thanks a lot, Mr. Mayor. What will you ban from the Underground next, you prissy git? Public sex and hard drug use?

Blast from the past

World’s greatest dice roll

Humans are strange creatures.

Love and Bullets

by Nick Taylo

Chapter 1

It started like it always did. With a body.

This one was in the river. I could tell she had once been beautiful. But this bullet and a fast current had taken that away from her. All we are, all that we think we are, all that we’re certain about is taken away from us. When you’ve worked the streets and seen what I’ve seen, you become more and more convinced of it everyday.

Caprica City had been my teacher. My Mistress. From the moment I open my eyes, she’s in my blood, like cheap wine, bitter and sweet, tinged with regret.

I’ll never be afraid of her. Nor do I want to be. For she is what I am, all that is and should always be.

-Adama, reading to Roslyn, “The Ties that Bind.”

People you may know

A funny thing happened to me on Facebook today.

There’s a recent feature in the profile section called “People you may know,” which keeps track of Facebook users who are friends with your friends; in essence, it aims to facilitate networking by cross-referencing friend lists.

For example : if person x is a friend of person y and person z, and persons y & z are friends with person w, it’s logical to assume that you also might be friends with person w. Facebook now offers a listing of such persons, in order to give you the opportunity to expand and update your lists.

But the really cool thing about this feature is when you discover that two of your friends from completely different spheres in your life have a mutual acquaintance that you never heard of. It’s a small world of course — six degrees of separation and all that — but we rarely find out just how close we all are save for the odd moment of coincidence. Now, with this feature, you will suddenly learn that your best friend from Halifax is buddies with your boss’ cousin, or that your ex-girlfriend’s sister hung out with one of your co-workers way back in CEGEP.

Not everyone likes the idea, but I for one think it’s mostly harmless. Who knows? You might even discover that the road rage dude you shared a cell with back in ’03 when you did that 2-year stint for aggravated assault turns out to be friends with this drugged-out carjacker from Verdun called “Needles” — the very same guy who sold you an ounce of £%¢@#$¤ powdered sugar instead of pure Nigerian H back in ’99.

I mean hell, I’ve been sooooo looking forward to getting back in touch with that guy.

Damn dirty apes

Charlton Heston, dead at 84

Charlton Heston, a.k.a. Moses, a.k.a. Judas Ben Hur, a.k.a. the Soylen Green dude, a.k.a. the Planet of the Apes dude, a.k.a. El Cid, a.k.a. the NRA Prez, a.k.a. Andrew Jackson is no more. A living monument of Hollywood, Heston played larger-than-life figures with vim and gusto throughout his career.

Paramedics called to Heston’s Los Angeles home late last night confirmed that he had passed away, then took the shotgun he clutched from his cold, dead hands.

Wawaweewa

To the left, a picture of Joseph Stalin, circa 1915.

To the right, a picture of Borat Sagdiyev, famous Kazakhstani journalist.

Sometimes you just have to wonder.