Geological Word of the Day

Ignivomous (Ig`niv´o`mous) : Vomiting fire.

Joe was ignivomous after consuming the leftover vodka.

Oh, and the thing about exploding eggs in the microwave oven? It is not an urban legend. Please take note.

However, if you choose to ignore caution and do it anyway, please take a video and upload it on youtube. Your pain need not be in vain.

Not two-legged sloth

I am sure you encounter two-legged sloths on a daily basis. I should know; I am one.

The four-legged ones are sooooo much cuter!!!

Meet the sloths from Amphibian Avenger on Vimeo.

The wee hours ...

I discovered this guy courtesy of Manolo for the Big Girl; the awesome ladies of wit and style.

Go to his website for more dark hilarity.

Beard-ome and the science of aesthetics

I have a friend who has never been successful in growing a beard. He would be green with envy at the luxuriant facial hair sported by other men and bitch about the pathetic stubble that was the product of losing the razor for 3 weeks.

Dude, people are doing research on it. Perhaps you just don't have the right genes for it.

*pats him in commiseration*



Who says science geeks aren't creative?

Too many cooks will spoil the broth

As a baker, I know that specifics can be helpful in order to get the best outcome of the recipe.

But "Whole eggs may be liquid or frozen and shall have been processed and labeled in accordance with the Regulations Governing the Inspection of Eggs and Egg Products (7 CFR Part 59)." ?

I think that is a bit much. Trust the military to complicate desserts.

But you gotta admit the precision of the instruction is truly a thing of beauty.

Thank you for being that kind of girl ...

Brandon Boyd is definitely one of those few singers who sounds really, really, really good live.

Delish.

Voice soft like summer rain ...

There are various interpretation of this song apart from the eponymous original by the incomparable Dolly Parton. However, I love this version by Mindy Smith best; the pure, clean notes of her voice underscoring her desperation and pleading. Wonderfully emotive.



The theme of the song is something that I have never experienced first-hand. I cannot imagine loving someone who loves another in such a way; to humble one-self to ask for clemency from the third party.

I suppose this is the kind of love that drove a person to self-destruction because of its loss. I do like the idea of such an all encompassing love and passion, but the reality of it? Not so much.

Just like how I love my fictional men to be emotionally damaged, but if I met these guys in real life, I'll be running in the other direction so fast, you'd hear the Beep! Beep! of the Road Runner.

Till death do us part

Guys, if you want to keep your marriage, this is the tip ...

Help out with the house work.

This is the findings by Dr Wendy Sigle-Rushton of the London School of Economics. Yes, it was published in a reputable peer reviewed, ISI-indexed journal . You can believe it. It was the outcome of a scientific research. And yes, she works for the leading social science institution in the world.

*rolls eyes*

I mean, c'mon. Common sense, what? You have a household with both partners chipping into the kitty. Your woman also goes to work (just like you!), gets shit shovelled on her by her boss and colleagues (just like you!), gets stuck in commute/traffic (just like you!), is tired and stressed (just like you!), and gets paid less than her male peers (fuckin' unlike you!!!).

She goes home to the breakfast dishes still piled in the sink, the rugrat(s) squalling for her attention and you demanding dinner. So she rolls up her sleeves, starts on dinner and while it's bubbling on the stove, she washes the dishes. What do you do? Sit in front of the tv, beverage in hand ranting about how your favourite team was being ripped off by an unfair referee.

After dinner, you may desultorily play with said rugrat(s) while she cleans up the kitchen, do the laundry (not just dumping the wash in the machine, mind you; this includes folding the clean laundry, putting them away, ironing whatever for tomorrow), makes a grocery list (she just discovered that you put the empty milk/juice carton back in the fridge instead of tossing it into the recycleables bin), check the homework of older rugrats, tidies their toys away etc etc etc.

Once your rough-housing made said rugrat cry, you return him/her to your woman to calm him/her down while you go off for your shower, proud that you've been a fantastic daddy and spent quality time with your progeny. After that was the sacred hour with the boob tube, then you lock down the house in preparation of going to bed. Mean time, your woman has her own shower (after tucking in the kids, making sure their bags are all ready for school the next day, read the same Dr Seuss book for the gazillionth time for bedtime story without puking) and slides under the covers for a comfy 30 minute with the book she bought two months ago but hasn't had the time to finish.

When you come to bed, she'd already nodded off, but you were feeling frisky and wanted a little lovin'.

And then you wonder why she gets this way.


Tsk tsk.

Seriously guys. She's not asking for much. Put up the toilet seat. Toss your dirty clothes in the hamper. Stack stuff in the dishwasher. Mow the lawn. Do the grocery shopping. And if she gives you hell for not doing it the "right" way, it's because she's been doing it for a long time and knows how to do it well and efficiently. Be a little patient.

Besides, if she's not worn from doing too much, she's more welcoming to your amorous advances.

*grin*

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*lovingly caress my new driving licence that is good for another 5 years*

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Go on. Check it out.