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Things that make you laugh...

Jus tfigured out the Millenium Falcon question, how it did the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs.
It was a rental.

I went on a business trip last week, and the company policy is to rent a car rather than drive my own car to the airport.
The airport is about 52 miles away from my house. My house is about 5 miles away from work.

SO I picked up a rental here, at work, drove home, and the next day drove to the airport. The odometer readings they recorded say that I put 351 miles on the car. That's, um....wow.

But then, a week later, I rented a car at the aiport. Drove it straight to work and dropped it off in the lot here. This time, the odometer shows that I drove it 6 miles. Six miles as the reciprocal of the 351 mile trip....

I'm going to frame the receipt, put a picture of Han Solo on it... "I made the airport run in six miles..."

I always thought measuring the Kessel Run in parsecs showed how close a ship is skimming past the Maw, thus indicating the speed required to escape the event horizon.
 
The tattoo thread reminds me of:

My very first ship's party, on the Franklin, an Engineering chief brought his wife, who had an interesting tattoo. We just couldn't figure out what it was. A sea shell or somefing stretched across her cleavage.

The whole division was discussing it, trying to figure it out.
Suddenly, she stood at the edge of the group. "What are you guys talking about?"
We couldn't coordinate a lie to save our asses. I think i said, 'sports,' someone said 'Billy Carter,' 'airline food,' 'Yom Kippur,' whatever.
She nodded as if the babbling made sense. "I thought you might be talking about my tattoo. It's a unicorn."
Then she yanked her top down to reveal a unicorn covering her left tit, horn stretching to the right one. The flowing mane peeking over the hem had looked like seaweed. "See?"
We did, indeeed, see. We could not stop seeing. Very close to the scene in Dragnet: Sylvia Wiss: [pulls her top off] Do these look like the breasts of a forty year old woman?

Her husband, the nuke chief, walked up. Put his arm around her, smiled at the breast, and told us how much the ink had cost him.
Then he told us the tat he was going to get, and where.

For some reason, i am completely unable to recall details on his plan.
 
The tattoo thread reminds me of:

My very first ship's party, on the Franklin, an Engineering chief brought his wife, who had an interesting tattoo. We just couldn't figure out what it was. A sea shell or somefing stretched across her cleavage.

The whole division was discussing it, trying to figure it out.
Suddenly, she stood at the edge of the group. "What are you guys talking about?"
We couldn't coordinate a lie to save our asses. I think i said, 'sports,' someone said 'Billy Carter,' 'airline food,' 'Yom Kippur,' whatever.
She nodded as if the babbling made sense. "I thought you might be talking about my tattoo. It's a unicorn."
Then she yanked her top down to reveal a unicorn covering her left tit, horn stretching to the right one. The flowing mane peeking over the hem had looked like seaweed. "See?"
We did, indeeed, see. We could not stop seeing. Very close to the scene in Dragnet: Sylvia Wiss: [pulls her top off] Do these look like the breasts of a forty year old woman?

Her husband, the nuke chief, walked up. Put his arm around her, smiled at the breast, and told us how much the ink had cost him.
Then he told us the tat he was going to get, and where.

For some reason, i am completely unable to recall details on his plan.

My brother-in-law had a girlfriend that got a tat of a leopard across one ass cheek. The claws would peek out on her leg when she wore shorts. She wasn't shy about showing the rest of it, which was fine by me. She was gorgeous. We are still friends with her even though she and BiL broke up many years ago. She decided to have it removed. She stopped counting how much she paid for the removal procedures at $20,000.
 
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One night I was dreaming I was with a group of people and a girl was talking to me
but I couldn't make out what she was saying. The words gradually became clearer until
I could make out " Low battery...beep...low battery...beep...low battery..".
I thought "why the heck is she saying that?" then I realized it was my smoke detector!

I got up, went to my computer room and got my office chair. I pushed it
under the smoke detector at the top of the stairs and stood on it to unhook it and take the battery out.
Let me tell you it's not easy to balance on a swivel chair with your arms in the air.

A few days later I've got a new battery and I hop on the swivel chair and
do a 5 minute version of the Twist while I try to reinstall it. They pack the
wires so tight it's hard to get it closed. I did a few full rotations and had to
grab the stair banister a couple of times to keep from falling.

Anyway, to get to my point. A few weeks later I'm in my computer room,
bored and wondering what I could do. I decide to do some spins in my
swivel chair. After a few spins I notice something out of the corner of my
eye. I come to a full stop and quickly pivot back 90 degrees. I'm staring at
the wall completely dumbfounded. There leaning against the wall is an
inanimate, utilitarian, state of the art, technological wonder called an
EXTENDABLE STEP LADDER!

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It had been there for over 2 years when I had to set traps in my attic to catch some squirrels (but that's another story).
 
Waiting for my prescriptions.
A woman a little older than me is escorting her grandkid for some backźto-school shopping. He looks thru the lunch boxes and like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle one.

Grandma mentions, 'Oh, that's Donatello on the front.'
Voice dripping with scorn, kid says, 'It's RAPHAEL, Grandma.'

Grandma proceeds to school the little shithead on the Turtles, as she learned how to tell them apart by weapons more than 30 years ago, when the comics were black-and-white. LONG after the twerp regrets opening his mouth, she's showing scenes on the other side, pointing out Mike and Leo, explaining how Splinter is a pun on Daredevil's Stick, and then it was time for me to go.

Loved every minute of it.
 
yet again, a coworker is bitching about atheists, saying we define ourselves as what we are NOT.
NO ONE ELSE defines themselves by what they are NOT.

"Well, Tony, I don't really 'define' myself as an atheist, the same way I don't 'define' myself as Type O blood. It's a descriptive label."
"But that's a positive trait, having Type O blood!"
"Nope. Type O means you do not carry Type A or Type B antigens. And I'm O Negative, meaning I label myself as lacking Rhesus Factor protein. So I am labeled as 'lacking-lacking-lacking.' Or 'Not-Not-Not.'.... And you're still a Protestant. Which is pretty much saying 'I'm NOT Catholic.' So, it's not all that unique."

He's on the Red cross site right now, searching for an explanation on blood type, certain it's something found in the blood...
 
SUCK TRUMP'S COCK, SUCK TRUMP'S COCK

[YOUTUBE]https://youtu.be/8XWWiZRPCyM?t=853[/YOUTUBE]
 
Christ on a pogo stick.
I have songs running thru my head for no good goddamned reason.
Specifically, whenni am n ot listening to music or TV, i hear songs from the Ed Ames Christmas album my parents owned. Nothing against Mr. Ames, but not a huge fan. It's not Christmas. I haven't heard this particular album in 44 fucking years. Mom took it in the divorce, so not since Jr. High.
It just stsrted one night a week ago, and consumes my otherwise unoccupied brain.

I try listening to other music, no avail. In fact, i listened to an instrumental version of a popular song in the doctor's waiting room, a string quartet version of Paul McCartney, and suddenly i hear Ed Ames' voice for the Live And Let Die lyrics.

So, clearly, the only option is to gouge out the relevant portions of my brain with a tomahawk. At least music will never be boring again. It'll be new every single time i hear it.
Even if the NSA locks me in a room and plays Barney's theme song a million times, i'll be okay.
 
Christ on a pogo stick.
I have songs running thru my head for no good goddamned reason.
Specifically, whenni am n ot listening to music or TV, i hear songs from the Ed Ames Christmas album my parents owned. Nothing against Mr. Ames, but not a huge fan. It's not Christmas. I haven't heard this particular album in 44 fucking years. Mom took it in the divorce, so not since Jr. High.
It just stsrted one night a week ago, and consumes my otherwise unoccupied brain.

I try listening to other music, no avail. In fact, i listened to an instrumental version of a popular song in the doctor's waiting room, a string quartet version of Paul McCartney, and suddenly i hear Ed Ames' voice for the Live And Let Die lyrics.

So, clearly, the only option is to gouge out the relevant portions of my brain with a tomahawk. At least music will never be boring again. It'll be new every single time i hear it.
Even if the NSA locks me in a room and plays Barney's theme song a million times, i'll be okay.

Maybe this will shake it loose:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0L5QC9ZJkM8
 
Well, wearing the dinosaur costume and handing out whistles is an interesting way to meet the new-hires in the department.
Especially when supervisors make ABSOLUTELY no mention of the dinosaur, the hat, or the bag of whistles, they just introduce me as a training specialist, military vet, see him for any questions on the system...
A couple even pet the dino head like a puppy.

While the newbies stare...
 
Christ on a pogo stick.
I have songs running thru my head for no good goddamned reason.
Specifically, whenni am n ot listening to music or TV, i hear songs from the Ed Ames Christmas album my parents owned. Nothing against Mr. Ames, but not a huge fan. It's not Christmas. I haven't heard this particular album in 44 fucking years. Mom took it in the divorce, so not since Jr. High.
It just stsrted one night a week ago, and consumes my otherwise unoccupied brain.

I try listening to other music, no avail. In fact, i listened to an instrumental version of a popular song in the doctor's waiting room, a string quartet version of Paul McCartney, and suddenly i hear Ed Ames' voice for the Live And Let Die lyrics.

So, clearly, the only option is to gouge out the relevant portions of my brain with a tomahawk. At least music will never be boring again. It'll be new every single time i hear it.
Even if the NSA locks me in a room and plays Barney's theme song a million times, i'll be okay.

Try actually listening to the album. There was actually a research study which showed that when people get a song stuck in their head, it's more likely to go away if they listen to the whole song. They theorize that b/c we never finish the song in our head, we keep replaying the part we know. Not sure of the theory, but worth a try.
 
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