… which is to say, invading homes through the toilets.
Residents of a neighborhood next to the University of Arizona say small, live white rats have been swimming through sewer pipes and into their toilets.
Just when you thought it was safe to go to the bathroom …
Your results:
You are Green Lantern
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Hot-headed. You have strong will power and a good imagination.  |
Click here to take the “Which Superhero are you?” quiz…
I was hoping I’d be Batman. Christian Bale Batman, not Adam West Batman. Certainly not George Clooney Batman, but Michael Keaton Batman would be okay. Speaking of Michael Keaton, is he still alive?
HT: Evil Spock.
I hate cable commercials, and it particularly seems to be a problem on Sci-Fi, when they’re pimping their own programming, but don’t yank the commercials after the programming has gone. I.E. — they’ll ad a block of episodes “tonight at 8!”, and then eight pm will roll past and the clock’ll go into the morning, and they’ll still be airing the “tonight at 8!” ads, so some lame brain tunes in the following evening at eight getting not at all what the improperly pulled ads promised him.
So I’m up at two in the morning today finishing laundry after completing my character analysis of John of Gaunt for Shakespeare class, and Sci-Fi airs an ad for a four-hour block of Enterprise episodes airing between seven and eleven pm, “Tonight!” the announcer declares. Of course, there’s no fucking date on it, so for all I know it already aired and has been over for three hours, and of course, I’m too lazy to look at Sci-Fi’s website to figure it out.
Bastards.
Rebelscum has this product information from the Consumer Electronic Show — get me one, Charissa! — on Nikko’s (half scale!) R2-D2 video projector. Ah, someday, I’ll be in a position to get me one of these … but not for awhile (it’d probably help if I had a wall big enough for the picture, too).
Walking into Target shortly after the football game ended, I felt quite emasculated — I think I was the only male non-employee in the store (and they all had their heads glued to their radios, no doubt recieving to-the-minute updates from someone in the electronics section watching the game on the display televisions.
Football just doesn’t appeal to me. Clearly, I’m not a red-blooded American, although I can say I have attended a football game, although I can’t quite remember the year: at RFK stadium, the Washington Redskins against some other team. I remember being completely disinterested in the entire affair, and quite thrilled when everything was over.
Don’t let the title or the preceeding paragraphs fool you: I’m not a complete moron when it comes to Football. When I asked Chewbacca who’d won last night, he told me the Eagles. When I asked who they’d played, he told me Philadelphia. Clearly he’d misheard me: “They played each other?” I inquired. I’ll freely admit everything I know about the rules of the game I’ve learned from films like The Replacements
Sometimes I feel like a total faker. Case in point: Saturday night, I take a delivery to a townhome close to the Indy. Guy has a Baltimore Ravens banner hanging under his living room window and purple spotlights illuminating the front of the home. Run up the stairs, pound on the door. He answers, invites me in, beer can in hand, tells me he and his friends are downstairs watching the game and drinkin’ beer (I figured that last part out from the can in his hand). Gave me a great tip — 50% of a $10 order — and as I was heading out, I turned my head and shouted, “Happy Festivus!” and got a hearty “Fucking A’-men!” See? Faking it as a Ravens fan, and getting away with it!
Also? I’m surprised I know what “festivus” means.