YSaC, Vol. 900: Sashay, shante, Zap Dyna 170-ay.
I realize this sounds odd, but I need to find someone with a lot of
free space. I have 5 thousand barrels of crude oil left over and my
previous storage arrangements fell through. As a private citizen, I
may incur difficulties, so I don’t want to use any commercial storage
company. Ideally, you would have a huge warehouse (or a series of
smaller ones) or even a ranch in the middle of nowhere with lots of
tree cover.Also, for reasons I can’t go into right now, it would help if you can
speak Chinese (Mandarin, not Canto) and have access to some sort of
industrial supply of helium. I’ll explain everything to interested
parties.You will, of course, be adequately remunerated for your time, space
and discretion.Thank you.
Also on the wish list: an unlimited supply of chicken feathers, a sidehill combine, and a source for industrial solvents.
Actually, that sounds like an outfit that Ongina might have worn on RuPaul’s Drag Race. She would have worn the sidehill combine as a jaunty little hat, and been FAB-u-lous doing so. [Warning: link has sound.]
George W. Bush is selling the Midland ranch and needs somewhere to stash his personal, private oil cache? If so, what’s wrong with Cheney’s old “undisclosed location”?
Actually, I like thinking more about “industrial supply of helium,” “interested parties,” and drag queens (especially if it includes Ru). That sounds like much more fun!
Can’t use Cheney’s place. What if someone “accidentally” shoots at him again and hits one of the barrels?
No, no, no! That only happens to “friends” dontchaknow?
You realize this sounds odd??
You realize this sounds odd?
Sugar, “odd” is waking up with your head stapled to the carpet.
“Odd” is finding yourself shrink-wrapped to the bed one sunny morning.
Those things are “odd”, unless you’re into shrink-wrapping and head-stapling.
Hell, I’d even venture to say that “odd” could cover a mystical portal inside your refrigerator and eggs that fry by themselves on the counter.
But this? This is not odd at all…oh no…we’ve skipped over odd, bumped past bizarre, and I think we’re fast approaching completely incomprehensible.
Yes, but if you use the helium, it’ll make your voice sound like Theodore from the Chipmunks and that brings it back to odd and funny.
edit: or penguin – jinxies.
See, in thinking about where to put the emphasis in the first phrase, I’ve now devolved into reading the whole ad in the classic Shatnerian style. Particularly the part about incurring… difficulties…
Zuuuuuuuul!
“Listen! You smell that?”
“Get her”? That was your plan, Ray?
I think Sparky has a summer home in Completely Incomprehensible.
I know LOTS of people who live there year-round.
CJ — you disappeared????
I did? Dammit…did I forget to turn off the cloaking device again?
*adjusts controls to Romulan cloaking device*
There. That better?
I can’t afford that, so I’m stuck in the suburbs, over in Midly Disconcerting
I seem to take regular side-trips to WTH.
Lola – I feel like the daily commuter passing directly through the heart of WTF most of the time.
Well put, my Texas friend.
I made some very sturdy doors over the holiday (using leftover fruitcake). They will last forever. Here’s one for you.
Archie, darling!! Thank you….I just lurv me some fruitcake doors! š
Left over? From what? An unfinished “Oil Rig Girls Gone Wild” filming production?
Now have a mental image of someone yelling “Drill Baby, Drill” after gulping some helium. Shudder.
That wouldn’t sound much different than any other Sarah Palin sound bite.
That would be shrill, baby, shrill.
Darn it, and just yesterday I sold my Chinese helium and oil refinery!
Then where’s my 40Ā¢?
That’s going to be a hard on for him to come up with.
I prefer my oil sophisticated and politically correct…
I prefer mine puddling under an order of chili-cheese fries with bacon.
Dammit and now I am hungry.
This is what puts it over the top for me. Whatever Sparky is trying to do is probably highly illegal, and he’s looking for a fall guy in case he gets caught.
This week on “Shady Dealings!”
A man with 5 thousand barrels of oil needs to hide them quickly before the Chinese mafia discovers they were missing! Can he find a
poor sapgood Samaritan to hide his barrels and distract the Triads long enough for him to escape to Chile? Or will he end up stuffed into one of those barrels and going for a ride over Niagara? Stay tuned to find out!I so would tune in for that. I wish there were a “Douchery Getting What It Deserves” channel. I’d watch it all day and night. Mmmmm, tastes like schadenfreude.
āDouchery Getting What It Deservesā channel – hey lets pitch this to some mugs / angel investors? I’m sure there is a world-wide demand for this service to sophisticated tv watchers world-wide. It would earn us elebenty gazillions (money not oil – ibid).
[safety corey]Barrels of crude oil are highly flammable…common knowledge…however, what may not be widely known is that they are also highly conductive of static electricity, and easily ignite if say you were to put a length of PVC piping inside one to measure depth, bring it back out and wipe it with a lint-free (but not static-free) cloth. The resulting flash fire can/will remove the hair from your face, and if you aren’t quick enough, the flesh from your bones. Been there…seen that…[end safety corey]
So remember kids, once you’ve put your pipe in to measure depth, DO NOT bring it back out and wipe it on a lint-free but not static-free cloth.
**Cue “The More You Know!” end credits**
Well, I think so Brain, but where are we going to find 5 thousand barrels of … oh! Zort!
Poit.
Narf.
Fjord!
Bjork?
Bjorn?
banjo?
BINGO!
Interested parties should apply to Doug and Dinsdale Piranha, Kipling Road, Southwark.
They can store the oil in Spiny Norman’s airplane hangar.
Dinsdale?
Diiiiinsdale?
Dinsdale, Dinsdale?!
Taco, that sounds familiar but I cannot, for the life of me, remember from where. An animation of some sort, perhaps, with something popping into frame from time to time?
Something like that :).
Google Spiny Norman.
Memory is a weird thing. I can’t have seen that more than a couple of times and yet I recalled the word and something of the action but not the specifics.
Don’t DO IT! Once you google Spiney Norman, well, he never forgets. He’ll pay you back, you won’t even see it coming.
I hate having my head nailed to the floor.
He does, of course, get points for the correct usage and spelling of “remunerated.” It seems what we have here is a criminal genius, at least as compared to our usual Sparkies.
That makes it all the more disturbing.
How in the name of Spice Christ does propose to move his barrels? A couple of buddies with a pickup and the same flexible morals he displays?
And what the hells is the helium for?
Chinese child labor. Hence the need for Mandarin. You’d be surprised at how quickly 5 children can move a barrel when they have enough incentive.
..and oranges..
I’m still trying to figure out what Sparky needs an industrial source of helium for. My first thought was drugs but I don’t know of any drugs made by mixing crude oil and helium.
The only other thing I can think of is that Sparky is possibly the lamest supervillian ever.
If I paid more attention in safety meetings I might fully remember the crude oil to helium connection….sigh….alas, there’s a tickle in me brain but I cannot remember what it is.
Where’s the Capn when we need him?
Helium + Chinese People + Oil = Safety… and hilarity.
Crude oil floats on water. Helium floats on air. Both are highly flammable. Therefore … THEY’RE WITCHES! Burn them! Burn the witches!
You know the highly volatile mixture of helium and oil reminds me of a song!
Who put the boom in the-
*TACOSPLODEY*
:gets out TacoManual:
Whose turn is it to glue Taco back together?
I call “not it!”
Also; while I enjoy burning heretics as much as the next person, helium is not flammable.
Shhh! This is no place to let facts get in the way of a good witch hunt.
Also, count me out of the Taco Re-Assembly Party. It smells fishy to me, and with my luck, I’ll get stuck with the pecil.
Mindee, you may wish to rephrase that. Ahem. Of course, what happens in the Snark Lounge stays in the Snark Lounge until it can be filmed and put on YouTube.
[whiny] I had to put him back together last time. [/whiny] Here are the extra parts I had left over.
What’s this wiggly gray thing?
:consults TacoManual:
It looks like a TacoKidney, but I can’t tell. Teacher took my crayons away before I got that far in the book.
Grey? Possibly the brain stem. I don’t know how it would be wiggley…. unless….. I guess Taco’s had a LOT of coffee this morning :-p
@SJ – I was thinking explosives as opposed to drugs. Either way, nefarious intent so naturally not YSaC territory.
Sounds like Bombdude’s territory.
Very odd indeed. Uncle Google shows no obvious uses for oil and helium. Wait, I’ll be right back a large black SUV just pulled up in my driveway.
Nope, no oil/helium/explosive soup recipes in my knowledge. Not even a napalm substitute…
Hi, Roland! Keep commenting! That is, if the MIB let you come back …
Maybe he’s going to use the helium to airlift them out. He’s got a line on a cheap supply of balloons made in China. At least, he thinks he does. It could be a crate of condoms. That’s were the need for Mandarin comes in.
Get out of my brain, you crazy penguin!
Were you thinking about Chinese condoms too?
But I like it in here. I even brought popcorn.
(that was supposed to go under Lou’s post)
Oh, it’s popcprn! So THAT’S what’s caught between 2 of my skull bones. I’m gunnabe pickin at that for weeks.
Happy Birthday, Lou! It’s cake-flavored popcorn. š
It’s Lou’s Birthday! Happy Birthday, Lou! I got you a louse-filled cake!
I thought those were sprinkles.
Happy Birthday, Lou!
Cake flavored popcorn has GOT to be better than popcorn flavored jelly beans.
Happy Birthday! Enjoy your popcorn!
Many Happy Returns to the birthday celebrant!
birthday Happy Lou to.
Thanks everyone! I had a great day. Get this…my cake was topped with chopped up Cadbury mini-eggs! Oh, that Mrs Stool. I knew I kept her around for a reason.
They are going to move the barrels by zeppelin, which they obviously got from fellow
NazisSocialists. He’s a Socialist living in Communist China and needs to escape with his crude oil collection before he is discovered. Thta’s what the helium is for.Ok, here’s the [corey] I get from this.
Most folk who state that they have “a few thousand barrels of crude” generally have a piece of paper showing they bought a contract for future transfer. Sparky seems to have actual, metal, barrels of a petrochemical porduct.
So Sparky has bought physical barrels of crude from the fringes of the petrochemical market. (As with any market, there are fringes; like fringes every where there are some “loose threads”.)
Sparky also has a connection to one of the Matricula or Colonia industrial sites along the US-Mexico border.
That site is owned/operated by folk from PRC.
Official language of PRC is Mandarin.
Said industrial process has need of crude (or non-refined) oil in small quantities. So, they pay more than the cost of the oil and the transportation to the company.
Sparky turned his profits into a really good buy of this petrochemical product in metal barrels. (Might even actually be “waste oil” rather than crude, it is a Sparky, after all.)
The safety factors in storing oil are legion as is. This is why most large quantities go into really huge tanks, pipelines and the like–better to have only 4 or 5 known points-of-failure to mind, rather than the thousands Sparky has.
Except, if a person has a warehouse that can be sealed up; displacing the air with helium decreases the fire/explosion risk rather significantly. (How Spark intends to air-lock a pallet or two of barrels into and out of a helium-purged space never meant to be gas-tight beggars imagination–unless Spark’s mandarin friends have self-contained breathing apparatus . . . )
Weird part is that there are industries out there that use a barrel of oil, bought on the niche market. These are delivered by the pallet, rather than a tanker truck or pipeline. It’s tough work, you have hazmat considerations and razor-thin profits. You are a flea on the fleas of a very big hound-dog, to use a phrase from “the biz.”
Oh, and being on the fringe, he may not qualify for certification by the Railroad Commission as a Petrochemical dealer/supplier/industry–which means he can’t just rent/lease a storage tank someplace and draw off barrels as his Chinese friends require. The Mandarin-speakers may not much care about such niceities, too, as long as the pallet of barrels is cheap.
See, I knew Capn could explain the helium to oil connection. It’s kinda like the nitrogen bath we use in boilers and turbines. A much more friendly environment for operations.
I love the information I learn here…safe within the bosom of the YSaC fambly.
*lob*
And, I’ve managed to second-guess myself, too.
Sparky went to a surplus/liquidation/sheriff’s auction and put a bid in for a lot of barrels.
He’s now the proud owner of ‘a lot’ of barrels, all of which have been used for something (probably “waste” rather than “crude” oil–thinking here of the collection barrels oil-change places use).
Since there is viscous product in the barrels–and Spark is “an ordinary citizen” and does not have an USEPA & State Certified steam cleaning facility, the remnant fluids remain a vapor fire hazard.
Which can be remediated by squirting low-grade helium into the barrels and pounding the bungs back in–really fast.
Oh, and Spark found some PRC people willing to buy the “safed” barrels, a pallet (4) or two at a time. But, they keep sending invoices and payment orders writen in Mandarin. Or the accountant is a Mandarin-speaker.
Or, that’s my supposition now.
Still curious, Spark picked up on how Mandarin-speakers use “Cantu” for what is usually anglicized as “Cantonese.”
Actually, Sparky said “Canto,” which I just assumed was lazy-Sparky-shorthand for “Cantonese” (once I realized it didn’t have anything to do with music).
I need to store a few things. Can you help? My personal collection of war antiques has made my last landlord nervous. I won a few auctions when the Soviet Union dissolved, and now I need to store my winnings. Because I’m a private citizen, some people may come around asking questions, so discretion is the better part of valor. Does anybody have a dry dock capable of holding two submarines, some lead-lined storage crates, a couple hangars adjacent to private runways, and a concrete bunker about 400 feet underground? The more isolated, the better. Don’t worry, this is completely legitimate and you will be rewarded your generosity. You will be paid well, but even after the crumble of the world’s financial markets you will become a footnote in history books for decades to come.
Why not just convert submarines and hangers into smaller parts, and store said parts, along with those crates that are most hopfully not containing plutonium, in the underground bunker?
[bunker design corey]
The most expensive part of bunker design is in the entry/exit paths.
If it is to be a protective bunker, you want those entries/exits to be as small and limited as possible.
In a storage bunker, the elevators, ramps, etc. take up space you can rent for storage, so they come at a premium, too.
Submarines, for just one example, do not make for handy things to roll around even in rather small bits (exponentially so if one wishes to retain any of the original use as a submersible). So the transporter adds to the dimension tare for stowing them.
This is why we tend to not stockpile some things in bunkers. It’s an economy-of-scale thing.
[/corey]
This is two steps away from the Simpsons movie. All you need is a senile old man chanting “EPA!!! EPA!!!” and a fragile lake nearby.
It’s obvious what’s going on here.
Over the course of the spring and summer months of 2010, Sparky, with the use of a large set of shrubberies, a deer blind, and a very long straw, siphoned off the loose crude as it floated inland on the Gulf coast with the help of his trusty companion Minkey, a bunch of 40 gallon drums nicked from a local industrial solvent company, and a Ford F-150. Over the course of the next couple of months, Sparky would use his indescribably remarkable powers of suction to draw and fill each barrel in turn, managing over a hundred barrels a night. In fact, Sparky managed to develop a strange and heretofore unheard of combination of a gastronomic Stockholm syndrome variant and pica, which ultimately gave him a bit of an appetite for crude oil. By the end, he’d managed to skim off some six thousand or so barrels.
Now he had to do something with them, so he made some calls around to shadier characters. He didn’t have any kind of electronic voice changing box, but it turned out his secret lair was formerly a gas plant that produced helium, so prior to making each call to try and arrange deals for the crude, he’d suck a lungful of helium and try to strike some deals.
Unfortunately and inexplicably, the criminal elements he tried to deal with refused to take him seriously. Every time he tried to tell them what he had to offer and the amazing price he was willing to let each barrel go for, the other party started laughing until they could do little more than wheeze and cough. Even the one person he managed to get to meet in person doubled over and started rolling on the ground in paroxysms of teary-eyed laughter the moment he said, “Wanna see the merchandise?”
Even while this was all going down, his newfound condition had him drinking large quantities of the crude straight from the barrel — though using a considerably shorter straw, of course. But he could not for the life of him get a deal struck, and now he was stuck with a dwindling quantity of crude that even he couldn’t drink in his lifetime. Even worse, the owner of the plant he was not renting from discovered his occupancy and kicked him out, oil and all.
So now Sparky needs a new place to stash his Texas tea, preferably someone with access to helium — both to disguise his voice and because he’d now developed a similar appetite for the gas, as he found it a most agreeable palate cleanser.
Thus, Sparky’s Craigslist post. The desire for someone who speaks Chinese was strictly because one of the deals that fell through with a Chinese gentleman did end up with a halfway serious offer to do Children’s cartoon voiceovers in a studio in Shenzhen, so he’d like someone who speaks Chinese just in case he gets a callback when he’s not around.
A door.
Marry me, Mindfield! 8)
Aw, shucks. You sure you wouldnt mind a little polygamy and awkwardness on family game nights?
Awkwardness on family game nights – what, you guys play strip poker and drunk Twister too? That’s awesome! I’ll fit right in.
Polygamy’s fine as long as I don’t have to meet her/them or use/be referred to by the phrase “sister wife.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m packing for … uh … someplace where that’s allowed!
Aw, man, does that mean we all have to move to Utah and become Mormons?
Wait, “all”? How many of us are there?
And no – I’m not too excited about Utah. It’s either mountains or desert, and even though it’s got a salt lake, it just isn’t the same as being at the ocean.
Well, there aren’t many of us. There’s me, you, a boy named Sue, his wife, my wife, a goat, and for some reason, Janet Reno. I have no idea how she entered the picture, but she won’t leave.
Be sure to send us the link to the YouTube video of game night.
Janet Reno? Dealbreaker. She’s so hard to hang out with, since she’s the type who has to be the prettiest girl in the room. š
This week’s family game night is strip sudoku.
Also, don’t worry about Janet too much. As long as you give her a mirror so she can watch her neck wattle sway, she’ll be fine.
The Mindfield and Lola Show will be at the Comedy Lamppost Club (right around the corner from the 40-Watt) all week, folks. Stop in, try the 2-for-1 Singapore Sling special and listen to their fabulous repartee.
Remember to try the waitress and tip your veal!
You can try me and tip me, too!
Er …
*puts self in corner*
I had no idea you were that kind of girl. Giggity!
Hey, this corner has a cobweb in it.
:sigh:
It’s so sad to see someone with such potential turn to a life of crime. Just think of the fortune Sparky could have made with his indescribably remarkable powers of suction if he had sought a career in the entertainment industry.
Actually, Sparky’s life of crime started in the entertainment industry. Several unfortunate incidents that resulted in three males becoming unwilling eunuchs and having to spend the rest of their lives tethered to a colostomy bag sent Sparky on the run. After spending time posing as an undocumented vacuum cleaner, the Gulf spill gave him a new plan.
:snergle:
Got room in your wife collection for one more?
I’m sure I can squeeze one more in the entourage. You might get some nasty looks from Janet Reno, but just ignore her. The rest of us do. I just feed her some arugula and she pretty much keeps to herself.
Get a room you bunch!
You get a room, you… coffee…. taco…. face…
*Holds out a plate*
Energy smoothie slice? It’s 100% organic*!
*Carbon based molecules.
Oooo, don’t mind if I do…. For future reference, caffeine-juice and half an ounce of dark chocolate is probably not the healthiest breakfast I’ve ever had :-p
I shall have to introduce you to the wonder that is biscuits and gravy. Then you can say you have had a truly unhealthy breakfast.
Ahem, there is nothing inherently unhealthy in a plate of biscuits and gravy. That is, unless you are one of the 1 in 64,000 people who cannot properly digest cholesterol.
Now, having a dozen biscuits and sausage gravy from the pound cooked up as one’s 3000 kcalorie start to a 8-9000 kCalorie day spent on the bacalounger watching the tv . . .
Now, if a person is lactose-intolerant, then cream gravy can be a problem (a different problem). Ditto if one needs to be gluten free.
Which is why a person can have potato-flour biscuits with red-eye gravy and a slice of ham instead of the sausage.
So the next time some dirty hipster gives me the stink-eye when I’m dipping my bacon in my gravy, I can tell them it’s health food?
There is never, never a bad time for bacon or gravy*. It’s perfectly healthy! As long as you have it in moderation, which is to say if you either only eat enough of it that it’s like almost having sex, or if that’s the only thing you eat all day.
*Well, except in wrestling, perhaps.
Elebenty dog-biscuits for the smiling puppy!
Gravy-covered dog biscuits?
Gravy-covered bacon-flavored dog biscuits.
I’ll take a bowl please. And some biscuits and mashed potatoes. And bacon on the side.
Side note: Beggin’ Strips taste nothing like bacon.
No, but it smells like bacon.
I am so glad to see that this post was giving the “possibly awesome” tag. I love this post. I have no idea what it means, but I do think it is possibly awesome. It is also, however, possibly the worst idea ever, but I’m going to ignore that.
“I do think it is possibly awesome. It is also, however, possibly the worst idea ever, but Iām going to ignore that.”
I think I have met some people whose marital situations could be explained by this line of thinking.
I got curious as to what helium can actually be used for so I researched (I love teh interwebz so much that I’d marry it if I could) and came across some applications for helium of which I wasn’t aware:
– being a protective shield while growing silicon and germanium crystals
– supersonic wind tunnels
– heat turbines in nuclear reactors
– a protective shield for titanium and zirconium fabrication
– pressurizing liquid fuel rockets
That last one may be Sparky’s raison d’etre. Perhaps he’s building a spaceship of aluminum foil and is making his own fuel.
Well, it’ll match his hat at least.
Accessories are so important in this day and age.
Both legal and sartorial.
Every time I see the word “supersonic”, my mind immediately goes to this:
God help me.
Wait a minute, wasn’t I taught somewhere that fossils turn into oil, or that the dinosaurs are now oil or something? And those barrels took awfully humany sized…….
5 THOUSAND BARRELS OF CRUDE OIL IS PEOPLE!
Nuh uh… according to the industrial solvents link.. I’m ‘monoethylene glycol’.
Me, too! Me, too!
Ummm…that is good, right?
Right?!?
I hope it’s good, because I am too. Though how poetry is involved puzzles me.
So all three of us having the same result, I had to go ask a friend to take the quiz to see if it gave out any *different* results and he got
I need a larger sample size, please!
Specifically, I want to hear from Bombdude, NMN and lurkers.
I am;
Ummm … Yay?
My result:
…OK?
I got:
SOYGOLDĀ® 2000:
You are a water-rinsible solvent that contains no petroleum distillates. Your low VOCs (4.89%, 43 g/L) has been tested by EPA Method Number 24. You have ultra-low evaporative propertiesā0.005 @ 76Ā° Fahrenheit relative to n-butyl acetate (NBAC) = 1āand are an FDA approved surfactant.
Sure, but do I have 1/4 moisturizing cream?
I’m
Mmmm… acetaldehyde….
Uggggggh, soybean oil makes things taste like they were cooked next to a gym sock. Plus, some of us are allergic to soy.
Moderate MY comment, will you? There weren’t even any naughty words in it. I wonder what set it off this time?
TECSOL A-2 Solvent, Anhydrous:
You are an industrial solvent marketed as TECSOL Special Industrial Solvent by Eastman Chemical Company. You are available as both 95% and anhydrous. You are denatured with methyl alcohol and methyl isobutyl ketone.*
So there.
*I did very badly in Chemistry. I have no idea what any of that stuff means.
Try telling my parents that I don’t attach to soil particles.
YAY – different results. I am happy now.
Sorry, I’m Monoethylene Glycol too.
I’m also SOLV KK006, 200. We’re a match! Is your friend single? If not, how does he feel about polygamy? I’d try to hook up with Mindfield but his harem seems to be maxed out.
Scored as an Obsessive quiz taker, too.
Penguin, my friend is no longer single. But I will let him know that you asked after alternative relationship configurations.
The title will give a hint as to my results.
I’m with AR and Astro. Tetracloroethane…
Whoo, exclusive club with BD and Astro! Ha ha to all the rest of you who can’t join. Nyah nyah.
Also, ratwoman, methyl alcohol is methanol, which is the kind of alcohol that can kill you (or at least make you go blind, I forget). The treatment for methanol poisoning: lots of ethanol to flush it out of your system. Whoo!
(I sound very excited right now, but in fact I’m miserable with a headache that’s been coming and going since Sunday. I’d go to bed, but I’m comfy on the couch…)
Here we go:
LimeLolly, we are the SAME industrial solvent! Who would have thought it?
You were probably taught that crude is some sort of liquified dinosaurs–many still are.
Actually, crude oil is the result of trapped algae blooms in super-saturated water pockets. Pretty much it’s that green scum one sees on ponds, just washed into and ecapsulating pocket and trappes to cook in its own juices for a while. Ideal conditions are freshwater flows into saltwater marshes, and river deltas.
The chemistry is actualy pretty simple, your average college junior can make crude from a batch of beakers of algae in a semester–if with a lot of extra energy put in the system, far more than can be recovered in fuel use.
Creating crude from pig feces is more energy-efficient, though, I hear.
If I understand the chemical wizzos (not my strong suit, chemistry) correctly; they are taking the methane as a base for the hexagonal ethane ring, and being all chemical-twisty to make liquid hydrocarbon fuels from that.
What they do with the unused cellulose and similar products of digested flora and fauna, I do not know. With unrefined petroleum, you can take the leftover bithumins and make paving and roofing materials from them.
Fertilizer!
Or paper.
Google Sheep Poo Paper. Sheep feces, boiled, make an excellent paper pulp and the leftover liquid makes great fertilizer.
Is that anything like frappes? Because I hear those are tasty.
Probably as foamy; but likely more “organic” than the urban sophisitcate can stand.
Like those who buy clover in tiny cups from Lowe’s (despite the fact that dairy manure roto-tilled in will give all the clover you could want).
NC-300:
You are a water soluble, heavy duty detergent designed for industrial cleaning. You may be used effectively on metals, plastics, rubber or concrete, and can be diluted with up to eighty parts water. You emulsify and hold oily soil in suspension for rinsing or wiping.
“… designed for industrial cleaning.” Do NOT show this to my husband. He may get ideas.
Angel, this is another time when your avatar’s facial expression seems appropriately disdainful.
It’s the slanty eyes, Lola. So many things can be attributed to that cat’s slanty eyes. He generally slinks about with a devil-may-care attitude, strutting his fluffy squirrel-like tail, but then he’ll stop and glare for seemingly no reason. Ah, to be a cat and thus above worldly restrictions.
What.
….I hope I have some caffeine left; I think I’m almost out….
After 3 cups of coffee this morning I’m about to shoot through the roof. Gonna have to limit myself to 2 maximum for a while I think, my tolerance dropped really quick, apparently.
Shooting through the roof sounds like fun. It’s debatable whether that would help me accomplish anything, though… I have a project that I’ve been putting off for over a month, and while the actual doing of the project is not difficult at all, I start getting anxious/panicky whenever I try to start it -_-
Project, projectile … there’s not much difference between those things. If you shoot through the roof, it sounds like a good start on the project.
Hehe. Does that mean that if I become a projectile, and then finish my project, I’ll get to go to a quiet little isle that has non-alcoholic fruity drinks with umbrellas, served by Chris Pine lookalikes?
I feel it appropriate to dig up an oldie here:
Espresso Sunrise
Itās another espresso sunrise,
Blearing slowly ācross the sky, said goodbye
It was just a cup of coffee
Tryinā to wake up Tacoās brain
Todayās the same
Evāry morn when the sun comes up
He pours himself another cup
And munches the coffee grounds
He wanted just another coffee
To keep the sleep from cominā on
Canāt stay awake
And now the caffeineās workinā
And now the snark is flowing free
Heās filled with glee
Take another swig of coffee
Type when you feel the inspiration hit
Yay liquid wit
Itās another espresso sunrise,
Very well this doesnāt bode,
Tacosploo-ooo-oooode
EB, depending on how you land as a projectile, you may be able to go directly there (or you will be under medical sedation causing you to imagine that you are there)!
Oh yeah, medical sedation…. I wonder if I can schedule my surgery for sooner rather than later….
Taco, after so laboriously and painfully resetting your caffeine tolerance, why are you looking to raise it again so quickly?
Hence the “limiting myself” portion of my declaration.
Plus, it’s been a rough morning. I thought I could handle the third cup… and then my hands started shaking.
I could make more, myself. But, it’s getting near where the warmest part of the day will be here today, and I need to swing by Home Depot or Lowe’s for a hose-bib cover, since we are forecast to have 10-14 hours’ freeze tonight (down to 22-24Āŗ).
It’s already hit the high of 42Āŗ; and the winds are still gusting 18-20, so it will be a cold wrestle with the hosebib as is.
If I make more coffee, I’ll have reason to dilly-dally rather than act. And action is needed (and my snark is lacking in any event).
Perhaps I’ll make some coffee as a reward for being responsible.
Onward!
Speaking of home depot:
Menards apparently isn’t “High Class” enough to carry self-tapping wood screws, and neither is Home Depot. Nope, if you want simple, self-tapping wood screws just to screw a pair of 2x4s together* you have to go to either northern tools or the Woodworking store. Thank you hardware store chains for lowering the bar.
*I’m lazy and don’t want to drill pilot holes.
Ah, you need “deck” screws, as they tend to be self-drilling.
Gads, it’s cold out there.
In case this seems od to those of you resident from 40ĀŗN and further, North, please consider the normal temperature for today in my town is 57-58Āŗ with a low of 37-38Āŗ So, a high of 43Āŗ and a low of 23Āŗ are a bit “out of spec” for here. It’s forcast to be 59/40 on Friday, too–so this is not a long-term, we’ll get used to it, evolution.
Ah, hot coffee <ymmmm>
*sniff sniff* Poor Capn…. [/tease] It hasn’t been above 30 since December, here :-p Oh, yeah, and the heat on the driver’s side of my car doesn’t work -_-
It’s starting to head into chilly weather here, too. Getting frost on the car regularly in the mornings unless we have good cloud cover.
SO glad our contractor pushed ahead with the HVAC installation even if it did wipe out our vacation fund twice over. Our furnace got decommissioned a while back because no one could find the gas leak and the house has never had AC. So having a brand spanking new 95% efficient variable 2 stage furnace and AC with 7-day, 4-setting programming is like a little slice of heaven. (And the tax rebate doesn’t hurt.)
And the hubby asked if we really needed it. He said, “How long will we be in this house, anyway.”
I said, “As long as I’m the only one of us working.”
Does the deck screw tip look like a typical self-tapping tip? Cause there were plenty of deck screws there, but when I asked for a self tapping wood screw the staff stared at me like I’d grown horns. I browsed their inventory and didn’t see anything promising looking, though there were plenty of #8 deck screws, but their tips looked like standard thread wood screws.
I called Woodworking and asked the same question and he said, “How long do you need? We’ve got just about everything from 1/2″ up to 3 3/4″. Both regular and dry lube if you’ve using really hard stuff.”
Yeah, ought to be a cut across the tip like a STSD machine screw.
Remember that the big box stores hire help based on if they regularly show up, not for any specific product competence.
This is why I dislike such stores; they get all cranky when I start billing for my time for answering the customer’s questions cogently and competently (while not wearing an apron). And, no matter what I do, customers will walk past employees to ask me questions. <sigh>
That’s kind of what I thought. I’m frankly amazed that I went 0 for 2 at the big box stores. I figured at least one of them would have a box of 2 1/2″ self tapping wood screws. But nothing longer than 1 1/2″ and most of those for sheet metal.
Even if I were to find what I was looking for at the Depot, I think I’d buy it from Woodworking at this point anyway. After the first two encounters, talking to somebody who actually knew what I was ask about was a breath of fresh air. I shall let my purchase from the latter show my approval of knowledgeable staff. And I’ll even fill out a comment card should they have one (Thank you Dave, for knowing what “Self-tapping” means without an explanation and arm gesticulations).
*wipes oil off hands* Why do you all assume this is a guy? Come on, it’s too creative and clever for gender identification. It could be anyone. Oh, Lola, thanks for the information on Utah. Lots of open spaces, sounds like.
Prefacing everything you just said with wiping oil off your hands makes everything you just said sound dirty.
Well, mostly as this has the sort of “hijinx” that see to be all too male.
A woman might of asked how many barrels were in the auction Lot before making the bid (or better read the IOU at the poker game). Your average woman would have asked questions like “how do you move 5000 metal barrels” or “are used petroleum barrels very flammable and need 35,000 cubic feet of helium to be inert enough to ship?”
(7cf/gallon; 53 gallon “fill” on a “55 gallon drum” * 5000)
Oh, 300scf of helium runs $50, not including the tank deposit. So, that’s 118 cylinders for six grand of gas, and fourteen grand in deposit for the cylinders.
[Utterly OT Rant]Big azz SIGH…….you know, how sometimes it’s that one thing that’ll push you over the edge, send you off for a nice, tight white jacket fitting or a double-dip of Xanax? And, it can be something relatively small…inconsequential…a nuisance really…but it’s that one more thing on top of all the other things you are dealing with.
Well, I got my one more thing this morning. My beloved, crazy, beautiful cat – Bugsy – is a diabetic. He’s very heatlhy, otherwise, and regulating his insulin (daily injections) will mean he’ll stay healthy, but dammit…this on top of everything else – including finding that my Dad’s clothes are being stolen at the nursing home and he is pant-less is moderately amusing, but ultimately exceedingly annoying…and the staff is no help..none..they are clueless, keep asking me if I put his name on his clothes (“Yes, dammit..with a black Sharpie!”), and then scrounging their laundry while I was there to bring me a pair of jeans that don’t have any name on them, are the wrong size, and don’t belong to my Dad, all the while insisting they are his!
Where’s the Tylenol?
[/end Utterly OT Rant]
::sends calming thoughts::
Sorry to hear of your troubles, I hope they are solved soon!
Thanks, AR…I’ll get over it, or under it, or around it…same as always…I just needed a moment and y’all were the recipients.
That’s why we’re here. : )
You might be in a sneaky hate spiral! Watch out for the rage explosion at the end!
Is it anything like a tacolsplodey?
Where’s Bombdude?
Sneaky Hate Spiral.
Enjoy.
ROFLMAO!!! Whew! *wipes tears* I LOVE that site!! Thank you TM, I think you diverted my hate spiral for the moment.
Now that you’re done with that. I think it’s time to…
CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!
Taco, you are the second person to refer me to that site lately. The one from November about dogs not understanding about moving had me weeping with laughter.
Hyperbole and a Half is awesome. She’s been taking a lot longer between updates lately, but the updates are always worth the wait.
I think it was Meredith who first showed it to me.
Sorry, CJ. I see what you mean about commuting to the center of WTF on a daily basis. Seriously, they can’t give someone their labelled pants back, or make sure they don’t go to the wrong person?
(((BIG HUGS)))
I love me some Hyperbole and a Half. I think it was Meredith who introduced me, too. I am entirely too well acquainted with the Sneaky Hate Spiral. I’m having a winter-weather induced one right now (perhaps that’s a kinda-sneaky spiral, since I know about it).
Oh, CJ, much hugs and empathy.
I’ve washed your I Love Me jacket in case the Sneaky Hate Spiral returns. It smells like lavender now and it’s nice and warm from the dryer.
i’m in social work…the thing about nursing homes stealing clothes is that i’ve never seen the clothes show up on other residents…..or back again with the correct resident….the sharpie fades after the brutal washings they put the clothes thru. better to sew a pattern with bright polyester thread….
good luck.
Uhm…. *raises hand* Teacher? I tried to door CJ but there was a popup an’ it said I had an internal error even though I already went potty today an’ it made me click it like five times an’ then it still din’t door……
Refresh the page.
Try adore again.
(you may get a 502 error)
If that does not work:
Close your browser.
Run CCleaner.
Restart browser.
All adores will be reset (since you’ve erased the cookie that tracks them), and you’ll have to log back in again, too.
I just clicked through as many times as the popup came up, refreshed, and then tried again and it worked… Just getting the error out there :-p
Nope, you were correct (shouldn’t have doubted it–foolish me), adores are ‘broke’for no obvious reason.
Harumph.
Odd, “update bar” at bottom center of IE window will not advance past 50%.
Gosh, I’m flattered you went to so much trouble just to whack me with a door!
As promised, if a little late (I forgot to E-Mail it to myself this morning), here’s episode 4 of Pickles and Winston, the Genie Pigs.
“Well,” Winston asked, “What now?”
Pickles twitched his whiskers in thought. He had a good idea how to get to the pet store whence he was taken, but he’d been in that pet store so long he’d forgotten where he’d come from before that. Making matters more complicated, he had no idea where he was headed when he was taken to the pet store, so he never really bothered to take any notes on landmarks, directional changes, or any of that sort of thing. It came as a complete shock to him that he was effectively being abandoned by his previous owner.
Oh sure, like the rest, his previous owner — he called himself Stretch, presumably with a sense of irony as he barely cracked five feet — had tried to extract wishes from him in all the wrong ways, but he seemed to tire of it and just accept that he was just stuck with an ordinary, garden-variety guinea pig. Granted, he was wrong, but he didn’t know that and he ultimately seemed contended with that, which suited Pickles just fine. He wasn’t very fond of granting wishes anyway as everyone’s wishes were always either avaricious or sexual in nature, and either one skeeved him out. But then suddenly, Stretch whisked him off and dumped him at the pet store.
At least he met Winston there, a kindred spirit with a similar past. Genie pigs were rare indeed and to find another one at some random, seedy pet store on the wrong side of the wrong side of town made for odds that Vegas would be bankrupted to lose at. So the question now was, where were they supposed to go from here? It wasn’t like they needed human companionship, though they’d been born into domesticity, so they really knew no other life that didn’t involve being in a cage — other than glimpses out windows or the occasional ride in the car.
But there were two things he did know: They couldn’t go back the way Pickles had come in case they ran into his former master, who was probably still scurrying about her house from the new perspective of having accidentally been turned into a hamster with a careless, rhetorical wish. They also couldn’t hang around here. This was where the trouble always started, and he swore he was going to bite a chunk out of the next hand that tried to rub his fur for a wish.
“Thattaway,” Pickles pointed confidently, indicating a westward direction, around the next corner.
“What’s down that way?” Winston asked.
“I have absolutely no idea, but we can’t stay here and we can’t go back. That leaves two directions, one of which involves crossing that street–”
Pickles pointed at the busy street, where all manner of massive, wheeled vehicles that even humans were careful to avoid whizzed by at astounding speeds that would certainly turn either one of them into magic paste should they get caught under one of the wheels.
Winston nodded. “I see your point. Thattaway it is.”
The two scampered as close to the wall as they could, just underneath a concrete overhang that seemed to be part of the building architecture in this part of town. Countless feet in all manner of clacking and galumphing footwear tromped past, all in far too much of a hurry to notice the two rodents scurrying below. They rounded a corner and proceeded in the westerly direction Pickles intended, passing row upon row of miscellaneous stores selling everything humans could want and nothing they really needed, as was their way. Pickles, having taken the lead, looked back periodically to make sure Winston was keeping up, and apart from wheezing and complaining about the pace, he managed, if only just.
It was in between one such checkup that Pickles heard a surprised, “Whuh!” from behind. Pickles looked back and discovered Winston was nowhere in sight. A set of automatic sliding doors were just closing a few feet back; he saw the hell of a human just passing in as the doors slid closed behind him. Pickles scampered back to the doors and peered in. They were almost entirely made of glass, and though tinted, he could see beyond. He put his paws up and pressed his nose to the glass, only to realize that what he thought was his strangely enlarged reflection was, in fact, Winston doing the very same thing at the very same spot.
“Ahh!” Winston screamed, startled.
“Ahh!” Pickles streamed, likewise.
“Pickles!” Winston yelled, his voice muffled and attenuated, as he banged helplessly on the glass.
“Winston!” Pickles yelled back. “What happened?”
“Some human just kicked me in through the doors, and the doors slid shut and now I’m stuck in here!”
“Well there must be a way to get in, right? Wait, here comes someone, I think they’re going to go in.”
Pickles stepped back into a corner so as not to be seen. As predicted, the human walked up to the doors and they slid open, allowing the humans to walk through. Pickles scampered in just behind them, very nearly getting his tail caught as the doors closed. Winston ran over.
“Oh, excellent! Brilliant plan, Pickles. Awfully rude of that human, don’t you think? Just kicking me in here like that without so much as a how-do-you-do.”
“He probably didn’t see you.” Pickles said.
“That might well be,” Winston said in an injured tone, “but he should watch where he’s going.”
“Winston,” Pickles said with exasperation. “The idea is that we don’t want to be seen, right?”
Winston thought a moment. “Oh! Right, yes, very good point at that. So now what? Pickles?”
Pickles had turned around, noticing for the first time that he was in what was absolutely the biggest structure he’d ever seen in his life. It was one gigantic store — no! In fact, it was one gigantic indoor place where other stores lived! That was marvellous — and a little intimidating. The ceiling looked like it went up to the heavens, there was clean, shiny glass and metal everywhere, tiled containers that held a variety of plant life, and even a large fountain just up ahead into which it appeared people were losing vast amounts of their pocket change by the look of some younger kid who was trying to fish some of his out.
“Pickles?” Winston tried again before noticing what it was Pickles was staring awe-struck at. “Oh! Oh, my. This is certainly a big place, isn’t it, Pickles?”
Pickles could only nod as he tried and failed to take in everything at once.
“And all those people!” Winston continued. “There seem to be more of them in here than out there.”
Pickles noticed the people for the first time, and Winston was right. There were a lot of people here. A whole lot of people.
“Come on, Winston,” Pickles said at last. “We can’t stay here. Too many people, we’re bound to be spotted.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Winston said reluctantly as they both turned and headed back for the entrance. As they approached, it slid open. A man in an officious-looking uniform stepped in an immediately spotted them. “Hey! Rats!” he screamed and started to lunge for them.
“Rats?! Winston said incredulously. “He thinks we’re rats! The nerve!”
“He can think whatever he damn well wants, Winston,” Pickles said, grabbing Winston by the paw. “But we can’t let him catch us. Let’s go!”
“Where?”
“Anywhere! Just run!”
(to be continued…)
Note to self: Copy-editing involves more than just looking for the red squiggly underlines. That should be “the heel of a human.” Also, Pickles screamed, not streamed. That would be gross.
I don’t know, it has a certain poetic quality to it. Hell is other people, after all.
You do make a good point. It makes a great cynical collective noun, too. A Hell of People. I like it!
Smiley-Puppy – you need an illustrator to bring Winston and Pickles to life…and I think you’ve got something here. Know any good publishers? š
By the way, for those just tuning in, especially for the new members (and old ones rejoining us), in case you’re interested in reading from the beginning (insofar as there is a concrete beginning), here you go:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Now watch this get moderated for excessive linkage.
EDIT: Yup.
Edited by drmk: Yup.
sarajean80, you’ve been in the box all day! Now what are you going to do?
Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Ocean Springs!
All bees be upon the wise and wonderful Llama-Nun for fixing my spelling snafu.
:limps off in search of ointment and bandages: