the burninator

"That looks pretty good...coming out of the back of his neck there." - Strongbad

I've been told, in no uncertain terms, that the name "Trogdor" cannot be used as the baby's name...in neither the first nor middle positions. Still, from the sonogram the baby is just a few consummate Vs away from the mighty dragon. Oh, yeah - check out baby's majesty.

And, speaking of mighty dragons, the sonograms this week also showed another beefy appendage. (It's a boy!) I won't post it, though, as that seems totally inappropriate.

So what would an awesome name for a baby boy be? Help me out, here.

kwisatz haderach

March madness brackets are not an obscure form of punctuation? I'm disappointed.

sold, closed, and closure

Hollywood makes it look like it's all over when you blow the alien out the airlock — as if all that stands between the nightmare and your new life is some chamomile tea, the soothing purrs of your feline friend, and some quality time in a hypersleep chamber.

In the real world, you own the Nostromo. God knows you don't want it anymore: more cubic feet than you can care for, someone else talked you into buying it in the first place, and you keep seeing facehuggers out of the corner of your eye.

But you wake on one of the core worlds to find that The Corporation's shipyards have been overproducing interstellar craft. The builders are starting to default on their subprime loans, and the entire financial system is a moon-sized ball of dung hurtling towards a planet-sized fan.

So you quickly replace the deck plates that were damaged by the acid, price it aggressively, and hope the buyers don't notice egg sacs under the mist during the walk-through.

When you close on the sale, it's over.

That is what I have done today. W00t!

Edit: And, just to keep me on edge, a last-minute miscommunication has pushed the closing back to Tuesday morning. I'm popping a cork anyway.

dexter is running out of ideas

Today someone found my blog using a particularly disturbing search phrase.   

drink recipe: seattle carbanger

(Disclaimer: the actual manner in which this event escalated is still being sussed-out at the time of this writing.)

Ingredients:

• one Critical Mass militant-biketard rally,
  
• one type-A cager (late for reservation),
  
• one white Subaru,
  
• one cyclist lawyer.

To make, place the cager in the Subaru on a street in Seattle. Setting a handful of cyclists aside for later, take the remainder and conduct a denial-of-service attack known as corking. This will deny the motorist access to the road while an endless stream of cyclists monopolize it.

It may take a while, but if you keep your patience, the driver should lose his. Place the handful of cyclists that you set aside earlier around the Subaru, with some sitting on it, banging on the windows. Impatient and enraged, the motorist will hit them as he tries to back away. At this point, the cyclists should become enraged themselves, smash the windows of the car, and deflate all four tires. In anger, the cager will drive through the corking biketards, running over the lawyer in the process, but leaving him alive and free to litigate.

This tasty beverage would make an apropos refreshment at a PETA gathering, and is guaranteed to raise awareness — although probably not of what you had hoped.