That made me look it up, and it turns out goat sucker birds predate the chupacabra by a couple thousand years. There was a myth that these birds drank goat milk (from the goat).
I remember reading the Dragonlance books in the 90s, and one character would talk about a cryptid called the “Goatsucker Bird” that was an amalgamation of those two things, and now I finally get that joke.
Which one do you use? I’m not asking for myself; I just want to know what you’re shilling for.
Yeah, I’ve got that too. But confidence leads to complacency. I’ve thankfully never had it happen when it mattered, but on a couple of occasions I’ve found myself not being hypervigilant when I normally would be. It’s back on once I notice, but it only takes one slip up.
Most of these cases also involve a change in routine. You go about your normal day, feeling the way you normally do, because your mind has forgotten that something is different. Trusting your instinct to overcome that just isn’t a foolproof plan. I mean there is no foolproof plan, but there’s also no harm in taking a little extra precaution in your routine like putting your shoe or your wallet in the back seat.
The biggest thing that most of those people have in common is that they think it couldn’t happen to them.
My last drain snake broke off in the drain.
Get a decent drain snake. Maybe not the cheapest one on Amazon.
I got you.
I used to throw it away, but recently I started saving it, and it’s amazing.
Step 1: Cook bacon.
Step 2: Strain the grease. I use a tea strainer. You don’t have to do this, but it helps it last longer, because the bacon bits spoil before the grease does.
Step 3: Pour it into a small tub. I use an old spreadable butter tub that has masking tape on the top and sides with “BACON GREASE” written on it, so I don’t accidentally use it instead of butter.
Step 4: Store it in the refrigerator.
Step 5: Use that shit. You can use it in most places you’d use butter or oil.
Caramelizing onions? Slap a dollop of bacon grease into the pan first.
Pancakes? Pancakes with a soupçon of bacon.
Eggs? Obviously.
Grilled cheese? Holy shit, use bacon grease. It’s so fucking good.
It behaves a lot like butter. When it’s cold it stiffens up, but if you leave it out for a few minutes it softens and becomes spreadable.
Whenever I cook more bacon I top up my bacon grease tub. My cooking has gotten a little bit better this year, and it’s all because of bacon grease.
Exactly. I’m using what I know of gravity. The mattress should be resting on top of something. If we’re looking down, it is. If we’re looking up, it’s floating in mid-air, apparently wedged against both walls even though it doesn’t look firmly wedged on the right side.
I’m not the one being pedantic. Whatever that object is, it’s not clear that it’s a banister.
There’s no banister in the picture. It looks like maybe there’s a support for a banister, but that doesn’t magically make the tops of the steps into the sides of the steps.
“no, there really isn’t a celebrity I’d go gay for.”
Not even for the story?
Bottom.
The risers on the stairs are not visible.
The wear on the carpet goes right to the edge. That’s consistent with people stepping on it, not kicking it on the way up.
If it’s at the top, the mattress doesn’t appear to have any of its weight resting on a step. It could be so wedged in that it’s being held in place, and that it was wedged that way by someone awkwardly pushing at the ends of it in a way that wouldn’t seem to give them enough leverage to do that. But the obvious explanation is more likely, that it’s at the bottom of the stairs.
There’s nothing wrong with carpeted stairs.
Just do what I do, and fall behind on everything.
At my first job, they hired me to do some really boring, repetitive stuff, but they weren’t too particular about how I did it. So I taught myself how to get real good at Excel and VBA and automated most of my work. They noticed and then they made that my job.
Ten years later, after several organizational shifts, most of my work was back to being boring, repetitive stuff. My workload was split evenly between running manual reports and maintaining old, bloated projects. But this time it was worse because my manager was hostile towards me and literally could not understand what it meant for me to write code in VBA. Like, no matter how many times I showed him what I could do, he still thought I was just clicking “record” and automating things that way. Ultimately, he just didn’t like me. My performance reviews weren’t getting better, and there was no more future in the role.
So I automated the reports and didn’t tell anyone. It bought me several hours per day to work on whatever I wanted, like my resumé. When I eventually left (for like a 60% pay raise), I sent all the automation to the other person on my team who ran those reports. I don’t know what she did with it.
I don’t have enough skin.
The cops beat down the door . . .
I really thought it was going another direction, where they’d just, you know, get more skin.
As a resident of Floxus, I propose we make the creeping phlox our state flower.
(It smells like rotting skunk.)
Wrap the can in a wet paper towel. It’ll get cold much faster that way, possibly before you forget it’s in there.
Best Christmas gift I ever got my dad. He’s a huge Christmas Story fan. It came in a big crate filled with straw and everything, with “HIS END UP” and “FRAGILE” printed on the side. I think it’s a little smaller than the official one, but still pretty big.
He puts it in the front window of his house every year.
Maybe it’s not about poop. Maybe “liquid ass” is what was “poured into them jeans”?
Let’s have a little optimism on the internet for once.
Depends on whether or not there’s a Gogoat or a Skiddo in the team.
If there isn’t, then not much.