Gingerbread House Contest 2009
9.5-inch MacBook with 3.8 Necco*-pixel display, including a gingerbread* unibody with marshmallow* casing and a 48-key Smarties* IntelliTouch keyboard.
*Warranty does not cover type II diabetes.
I bet you actually measured the “screen”. I’m hungry now.
… And then he said he absolutely had to reciprocate, did a little thing where he started searching his coat pockets frantically for a piece of string or an elastic or something, asked me to close my eyes and proceeded to put this ring on my finger. It’s from 1910. And the emeralds? From Colombia (you remember). And it’s platinum. And the stone is opal. Because we love opal.
And I have never, ever imagined I’d wear anything more beautiful.
— From Cloud Nine.
I’m speechless. You two have the perfect engagement story.
Love, love.
Turns out there’s a Spanish tradition I like quite a bit: when a couple get engaged, the woman is given a ring from the man, and the man is given a watch from the woman. These days, it turns out, the watches are something ridiculous: a Rolex or a Patek Philippe or something a bit too… much. Sometimes, however, you can meet a girl who is unlike anyone you’ve ever met, is stunningly gorgeous inside and out and is as unbelievably valuable to you as anyone that’s ever existed. The kind of girl, it turns out, you intend to keep. And that particular girl can find the most special, pocket watch she can imagine, walk you out on a cold November night in London out to Primrose Hill (a special place), sit you down on a bench, hand you that very pocket watch, and ask you to marry her.
I said Yes.
I’ve secretly been checking Jason’s tumblr every 20 mins or so since he’s left to find out the exact moment they got engaged. I’ve never been happier for two amazing people. Now, dearest, sweetest, tiniest Anna, get to California already.
Love you two.
I don’t like attachments to things. I don’t celebrate holidays. I don’t like finishing books, I don’t like death, funerals, or birthdays. I don’t like having stuff, I don’t like collecting things. I don’t like wanting stuff. I don’t like needing things. I don’t like depending on people.
I don’t like reminiscing, I don’t like remembering things. I’d much prefer to not look back at all. I don’t sleep well. I think of how things used to be, where I used to live, friends I used to have. I don’t take well to change, I don’t take well to a lot of things. I’m pretty solitary, I don’t go out much, I don’t converse much either.
I don’t let many people in. I don’t mind. I don’t like my past, I’m not looking forward to my future. I don’t like the present much at all, either.
What I’m saying is, if I’m distant it’s because it’s a habit. I’m not saying I’m trying to break it, I’m saying it’s there. If you think I’m ignoring you, I’m not. If you think I’m rude, I am. If you think I’m distracted, irritated, annoyed, generally angry, you’re right. If you never want to speak to me again, that’s fine.
I don’t take well to change, but I live through it.
“permenter giving bailey the finger”
Based on this photo.
I have been wanting to ride a bike all day. I even went to a bike shop and looked for a new one, but I can’t make up my mind and I need advice/someone to just make a decision for me. Sigh.
Yes, of course this is another amazing Troy Holden photo.
Jeffers Morning!
[video]
I took the train to San Francisco today and realized how hard it is to stay focused on a book when I could be spending my time doing better things, like drawing crowns on the wide variety of fat squirrels that I have saved to my iphone’s camera roll. I figured I’d draw a crown on my favorite fat squirrel (above) and then call it a day. OH, IT IS NOT THAT SIMPLE. You draw one crown and the rest of the fat squirrels are all “what the fuck?” then some of them yell about monarchies and I tell them “hey, you know, like, shut up.” They don’t shut up though and you end up drawing crowns on squirrels from Millbrae to 22nd Street, while everyone sitting behind and around you think, “why is this girl drawing crowns on squirrels,” and (more importantly) “holy crap I bet she’s single and looking for a suitor.” Well, ladies and gents and ladies again, I am perfectly happy with my squirrel collection and for the record, totally drunk.
With the onset of war, Moffett Field was suddenly transformed from a base for training Air Corps cadets to the Naval Airship Training Command responsible for teaching personnel how to operate blimps.
Each blimp, built at a cost of $300,000, was 246 feet in length with a capacity of 375,000 cubic feet. The ships were powered by two motors and carried from seven to nine crewmen. Each also was armed with depth bombs and other weapons.
Unlike the massive dirigibles, the blimps were not equipped with Sparrowhawks. They were however, stocked with live carrier pigeons, which were used to dispatch messages from on high.
At the “lighter-than-air school,” sailors learned everything from how to rig and pilot blimps to how to maintain them. Part of the sailors’ training also was the care and feeding of the carrier pigeons.
via NASA
Terror Map
This is frighteningly accurate.
I used to live between “Gang Cross-fire” and “Stolen Goods”.
Ladies.
Theresa, it took a lot of treats, and a lot of scratches and a little photoshop, but Guille and I dressed Jake up like a gentleman for your birthday.
(oh, and the pipe and monocole were Aaron’s idea.)
(really, all I did was post this.)
(Happy birthday!)
This is Tucker. You may have heard of him.
My little black cat Tucker was killed on Halloween and today, Friday the 13th, I received his certificate of burial.
Anyone else think that he completely fulfilled his black cat status?
“Robert Cameron, who died Tuesday at 98, captured San Francisco’s Financial District shrouded in fog.”
I really wish I could add something to this, but I’m speechless. San Francisco is such a beautiful city, from all angles, even the streets.
[video]