Giovanni Martini]</p>
<p>I already done toll ya, I jus wanna grow me and my family some vegebles, grow me some chickens an goats, trade fairly and squarely, read the scriptures, sing a few hymns, scrutinize Malcolm Lowry, and etc. Sumptin wrong wit dat. ?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alarms are going off in dozens federal Yank police agencies, Mr. Randy Weaver II. If even one Euroblood is isolatin', that's 'cause he's white-supremacizin.' If you scrambled the whole hornet's nest of acronyms you stirred up, you'd have a big bowl of alphabet soup. Enough to feed you for a week in next stop: Florence Supermax.</p>
<p>[quote=BauLuo wrote:
My lockdown essentials: a bike, a tent, a foamy, three tins of compressed gas (easily acquired on Taobao), simple one burner campstove, camping pot and pan, and 3 km ride to the countryside. Might be more difficult in Shanghai or Beijing, but works anywhere that I have lived in the past eight years. Bye, bye, see you in a few weeks.
Alarms are going off in dozens federal Yank police agencies, Mr. Randy Weaver II. If even one Euroblood is isolatin', that's 'cause he's white-supremacizin.' If you scrambled the whole hornet's nest of acronyms you stirred up, you'd have a big bowl of alphabet soup. Enough to feed you for a week in next stop: Florence Supermax
My lockdown essentials: a bike, a tent, a foamy, three tins of compressed gas (easily acquired on Taobao), simple one burner campstove, camping pot and pan, and 3 km ride to the countryside. Might be more difficult in Shanghai or Beijing, but works anywhere that I have lived in the past eight years. Bye, bye, see you in a few weeks.
Why waste money like that? I hear Australia has COVID camps where you get all that stuff. Kind of like Adjustment For the Attitudinally Impaired. "Vaccinate or Vegetate!"
Yah, but that would be THERE space, not MY space. And that really is what makes all the difference for me contrarians. Jus give me an acre or 20,000 of my own that ya can't f*ck with, an leave me alone. Don't worry, I won't ask guvment or health services for not a rusty stick. You toodle on yer way.
So there we was, jus me an Gin Martini, waitin for the whole kibbutz to show up, specially Mike cuz he say his Momma made a nice a lasagna for alla us. Salivatin were we both, thinkin bout Momma Serpenta's lasagna. Now jus then I noticed a big bollus of saliva collecting at corner of Gin's mouth and in a jest of humour, he had somehow stopped breathing. So slaps him hard on back and says `wake up, buddy, lest bar wench kick ya to curb' !! Ya jus bin vaccinated or is ya jus jokin around?' `Sorry' say he, `I was just practicin being dead, it's an exercise I learned in India. It requires deep concentration, and at least a liter of vodka, according to my guru.'
Finally, who is it, but Monsigneur Laffagut, sauntering spectacularly around nearby vestibule, hand held a fancy tray of pasta type foodstuffs, sans beef. Jus a sloppy mess of noodly and vaguely tomato based something. "Sorry, brethren, Mike has been waylaid and led astray down a deep dark sideways by the delicious Mary Hairy-Anne Rayce, and I alone have survived to tell the tale. Alas, I must report that Momma Serpenta has been defoiled and gone dark.
Gasps all around. `What !!? burbles Gin.
`Yes, tis true I am afraid' rejoinds the good Friar, `she has gone vegan'.
`Also', he continues, `she is rather alack and alas re: our purported gluttony, thus confides, and requests that her special `lasagna a la vego' be consummed in this particular manner.
Quizzical looks. Gin takes a deep inbreath, despoiling his wonted deathlyness.
Just then, mewlingly, came by Doug and Lucille, the catpeople, lips-lickingly proud with tails erect and expectant. `Whatcha slinky cats doin' here' snorfles Gin in a pique.
`Meow, meow' state Doug and Lucille in concordant unison.
The good Friar sets down matching sets of toenail clippers.
`I am afraid dear Ms Serpernto is concerned about your sins and requests that these, and only these, implements be used in the consumption of this, her last performance art piece: `Lasagna a la vego'.
Ravenous, Gin and I set to, toenail clippers a flashin, gorging on modicums of wheat based noodlish foodstuffs.
Luckily, just then crazy Timmy shows up, wearing a hollowed out pumpkin shell on his head, as the authorities had cautioned him about careening about without headgear. Not missing a beat, he begins exfoliating his nostril hairs with said toenail clippers, and arranging hairs in geometrical shapes. Suddenly he says `Tomorrow there will be a sea-battle, is this true or false?'
What then but Mike an Hairy Anne -Rayce come trippingly and superbly bustingly from outa the washroom, where hid they had been all the nonce.
`SURPRISE, SURPRISE' !!! they contiguously froth at curmudgeonly Gin. The whole gang is resplendant with head nodding and eye-winking, head dividing grinningness.
`Aw, shucks' redemonstrates Gin, `ya' all remembered it was the anniversary of my first expository ejaculation'. His face flushed in appreciation, and even bore a beatific mien.
Douglas and Lucille licked drippings from Momma Serpento's lasagna-ish dish, under the master's table.
The moon was waning.
So wuz it. So could be it. So shall it be perhaps.
My lockdown essentials: a bike, a tent, a foamy, three tins of compressed gas (easily acquired on Taobao), simple one burner campstove, camping pot and pan, and 3 km ride to the countryside. Might be more difficult in Shanghai or Beijing, but works anywhere that I have lived in the past eight years. Bye, bye, see you in a few weeks.
The clock exhibition in the Palace Musem is facinating if you're into mechanical things. However, be aware there's more than a slight whiff of light machine oil, so much so that my wife refused to stay in the place and sat outside and waited patiently for me.
I do like vibes. In my younger days I knew a buncha jazz musicians ( seriously, I did) including a very good `bone player (trombone, but they just called it `playin bone' , seriously ), Rex Rathgeber who split to Germany from Canada, to avoid paying back 50,000 dollars in student loans.... often wondered whatever happened to Rex. But playing the vibes is sorta like a combination of playing guitar (which I do, very well may I note) and playing the piano, because the layout of a vibraphone follows the physical key structure of the piano. Now vibes have not been, to my knowledge, distinguished according to geographical location, so I am not sure what these `mediterranean vibes' really are but I am keen to discover. Now we gots 3 things to consider here. We gots marimbas, we gots xylophones, and we gots vibraphones. I will leave to your personal voyage of discovery to the learn the difference, but I remain confuzzled as to the meaning of `mediteranean vibes' . Are these `vibes' musical instruments local to Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt? Please fill me in Beijinger, you are the newspaper of record, sorta like the Grey Lady of Beijing.
Now xylophones were once considered code names for martinis during prohibition and inhibition arousing operative procedures in Thailand had been undergone. Now martinis are generally made using vermouth, which means `green mouth' so I leave that to you imagination.
But here is an real fakual faktoid, Anissa Jones, who played Buffy, died at the age or 18 of an `accidental drug overdose' According to Wickedpedia, in post mortem, she was found to have cocaine, PCP, qualuudes and seconal in her body. 18 years old.
Norman French was the real name of the rotund male nanny on TV's "Family Affair."
Normally they just called him "Mr. French." Which sounds creepy now: a big bearded fat guy hangin' with two little kids all day and always smrking. This on a show called "Family Affair." And "Mr. FRENCH," no less. How was it we never saw all the red flags whippin in the wind?
Yeah, right buddy. everybody knows his name was `Normande'
Now I wantsa talk a bit here about another legume, specifically the garbanzo. Now `garbanzo' is clearly not an Anglo-Saxon, nor a Norman French word, therefore I wish to know it's provenance. Now garbanzos are also known as chick peas, and I could make about 12 and a half jokes about `chick pees' before bob was yer uncle. Notice though, that I love garbanzos, primarily as the basis for humus which I used to make regularly when I had easy access to canned Czech pees. Notice I have never seen a canned Czech pee, though I have seen a beaten Slovak piss. These are different phenomena. I do enjoy beans of almost all sorts, don't even get me started on lentils. I will leave that for another adventure.
The Marian-Webber dictionary---huh? Oh, OK. Merriam-Webster suggests the Old Saxon "eriwit" as a distantly related word. I'm not seeing it, but I guess their house Phil O'Logist says so.
Little known factoid: Norman French was the real name of the rotund male nanny on TV's "Family Affair." Normally they just called him "Mr. French." Which sounds creepy now: a big bearded fat guy hangin' with two little kids all day and always smrking. This on a show called "Family Affair." And "Mr. FRENCH," no less. How was it we never saw all the red flags whippin in the wind?
Mr。 French，Mr. French, Buffy hit my peepee whith a can of chick peas!! Yes I know Jody, now let me just have a quick look at it to make sure there is no serious damage.
I know this is a foody kinda newspaper (?) so lets have a little chat about foos (not like ye upscaler may eat in Beijing,) but us out in the colonies. First we gat this thing called binggan 饼干， which supposedely translates into `cookie'. Now it ain't like any cookie I ever ate in Canada. Dry, tasteless circles of dirt is what I call 'em , no moisture, no sweetness, no fat at all. So a cookie first and foremost oughta have some sweetnes, and a bit of succulence. Now then ya got these plastic tubes of mystery meat, probably dessicated pig nostrils, which are supposed to be meat, yet they are sweeter than the cookies. So ya gots things that should be sweet, that ain't sweet. ya got things that oughta be salty, that are sweet. I think it is a yin/yang sorta deal, that wheel just keeps spinnin aroung. Dove chocolate bars are correct, but I think they are imported. Potato chips, not bad.
You takes a bite of bland cookie and a bite of sweet weenie. Repear, repeat. For a real treat you do like Beijing McD's a few years back: Oreo cookie and spam semmitches. I served my time in the trenches in the food wars. All one winter in Fourth Grade I ate school lunches at Franklin Elementary Vernichtungsschule in Great Falls, Montana. Don't talk to me about the Tommies going over the top at Ypres. Not till you've had 90 straight days of Macker-ronny 'n cheese Monday, Purex-flavored chili Sloppy Joe Tuesday, Corn 'n mayo pizza Wednesday, Burnt toast and faux cheddar semmitch Thursday, and boiled dog weenie in stale bun Friday. Ever since them years, I've battled Pepto-Bismol addiction.
hahahahaha .... I couldn't help but laugh at that.
I know this is a foody kinda newspaper (?) so lets have a little chat about foos (not like ye upscaler may eat in Beijing,) but us out in the colonies. First we gat this thing called binggan 饼干， which supposedely translates into `cookie'. Now it ain't like any cookie I ever ate in Canada. Dry, tasteless circles of dirt is what I call 'em , no moisture, no sweetness, no fat at all. So a cookie first and foremost oughta have some sweetnes, and a bit of succulence. Now then ya got these plastic tubes of mystery meat, probably dessicated pig nostrils, which are supposed to be meat, yet they are sweeter than the cookies. So ya gots things that should be sweet, that ain't sweet. ya got things that oughta be salty, that are sweet. I think it is a yin/yang sorta deal, that wheel just keeps spinnin aroung. Dove chocolate bars are correct, but I think they are imported. Potato chips, not bad.
You takes a bite of bland cookie and a bite of sweet weenie. Repear, repeat. For a real treat you do like Beijing McD's a few years back: Oreo cookie and spam semmitches. I served my time in the trenches in the food wars. All one winter in Fourth Grade I ate school lunches at Franklin Elementary Vernichtungsschule in Great Falls, Montana. Don't talk to me about the Tommies going over the top at Ypres. Not till you've had 90 straight days of Macker-ronny 'n cheese Monday, Purex-flavored chili Sloppy Joe Tuesday, Corn 'n mayo pizza Wednesday, Burnt toast and faux cheddar semmitch Thursday, and boiled dog weenie in stale bun Friday. Ever since them years, I've battled Pepto-Bismol addiction.
Now let me tell a bit about `foodies' or attituted in general in China about Western food. For some reason, in China everyone thinks we live on mashed potatoes and hamburgers. I can walk half a kilometer, in my hometown, of working class people in a city of about 250 thousand people,and get Greek food, Italian food, Mexican food, Thai food, fake Chinese food, real Chinese food, German food, Jamaican food. I can go to the Chinese food store and buy any Chinese condiments and spices that I want, I can go to the Carribean food store and buy any hot Jamaican spices I want. I can go to the Indian food store and get Indian spices and foods, I can go to Nabils store and get Lebanese spices and food. ... I gots more variety of food choices in 500 meters of street than maybe you have in Beijing. But please Chinese folk, we do not live on hamburgers and mashed potatoes, and have access to a greater variety of food than you will likely ever have. Why? You don't have any immigrants. These are things that immigrants bring to a country.
So there we was, me, Gin Martini, Mike Garbanzo, Hairy Ayn Rand, and crazy Timmy . Now Timmy was busy counting the spokes on bikes and comparing them to the interstices of window framework. Gin was studiously reading Beowulf, Mike had a smirky smile on as he texted on his phone, Hairy had a nice short pinkish reddish sorta skirt that showed off well her corpus. Mike was getting cranky from inanition, so we all ordered us selves, a big communal dish of garbanzos, eatin it Chinese style, though we had no kuaizi, we all still had all our fingers, except for Gin. He had had some kinna accident in Japan. Just then came Doug and Lucille, cat people, boistering down the street. Now of course we invited Doug and Lucille to imbibe and eat with us. Lucille took her usual spot on my lap. Doug on Hairy Anne. Mike seemed somewhat confuzzled and claimed these were not legitimate garbanzos but imitation. Jin was still sneezing about Beowulf and decrying. The garbanzos were however all eaten and Doug and Lucille were both well cared for and stroked and massaged well. I did recall the shivering of my shin by Hairy-Ayn's bare naked foot though. What a naughty girl she is. Timmy counted every garbanzo bean in his bowl, compared and analyzed it with respects the spokes on his bicycle, and the interstices of the window frame, divided by the square root of 2 and came to a satisfactory conclusion. The next day he won 30 million dollars in the lottery and bought a small island near Haiti.
Now I wantsa talk a bit here about another legume, specifically the garbanzo. Now `garbanzo' is clearly not an Anglo-Saxon, nor a Norman French word, therefore I wish to know it's provenance. Now garbanzos are also known as chick peas, and I could make about 12 and a half jokes about `chick pees' before bob was yer uncle. Notice though, that I love garbanzos, primarily as the basis for humus which I used to make regularly when I had easy access to canned Czech pees. Notice I have never seen a canned Czech pee, though I have seen a beaten Slovak piss. These are different phenomena. I do enjoy beans of almost all sorts, don't even get me started on lentils. I will leave that for another adventure.
Is there any group like Mensa for folks who are obnoxiously proud of their EQ? You know, "I compassion so much more deeply than the commun run of humanity." "I am profoundly humanitarian." "The only way to be is to inter-be."
[/quote] There is indeed a way to measure one's EQ. It works like this. You take off all your clothes. You stick you left hand fore-finger on yer nose. ya take yer right hand fore-finger, stick it in you left side earhole.(this may take some dexterity) Ya stand on yer left foot and hop around, counter clockwise, shouting ` I love everyone'. Calculate the number of counter-cloctwise circum-hoppings completed, divide by your bodily mass index, how white your skin is (counted in nanojoules), and there you have it your EQ.
I know this is a foody kinda newspaper (?) so lets have a little chat about foos (not like ye upscaler may eat in Beijing,) but us out in the colonies. First we gat this thing called binggan 饼干， which supposedely translates into `cookie'. Now it ain't like any cookie I ever ate in Canada. Dry, tasteless circles of dirt is what I call 'em , no moisture, no sweetness, no fat at all. So a cookie first and foremost oughta have some sweetnes, and a bit of succulence. Now then ya got these plastic tubes of mystery meat, probably dessicated pig nostrils, which are supposed to be meat, yet they are sweeter than the cookies. So ya gots things that should be sweet, that ain't sweet. ya got things that oughta be salty, that are sweet. I think it is a yin/yang sorta deal, that wheel just keeps spinnin aroung. Dove chocolate bars are correct, but I think they are imported. Potato chips, not bad.
So there we was, me, Hairy Ayn Rand, Mike, Gin, Crazy Timmy, whom came and crawled under our table, lay on his back and began analyzing the interstices of the meshwork that comprised our table, Then my friends Lucille and Doug came, obviously in some afterglow of enormous saxaphone playing. We all pulled up a chair together , unfortunately Hairy Ayn had to sit on my lap, and she seemed to squirm a lot, which caused me to spill my beer all over my newly purchased copy of Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations. Hairy-Ayn's squirming in fact seemed to caused some stains on my newly purchased jeans. I sent the bill to Mike, and he assured me his accountant would deal with it. Now Gin seemed to be in a foul mood, and resused to speak to anyone. Now let me say a bit about Lucille and Doug. Lucille and Doug are actually cats, callico cats in fact, that roam the herebyes, however according to an animal psychiatrist that has looked into the matter, they both identify as intersexual humans. So Doug, pounced upon my lap, I stroked him very well. Meanwhile Lucille jousts herself upon Mike's lap. Mike whacks her hard with a hard cover copy of some Aryan book or another, thus Lucille hops over to Hairy-Ayn's lap and Hairy-Ayn strokes Lucille very well, as I could clearly see.
I know this is a foody kinda newspaper (?) so lets have a little chat about foos (not like ye upscaler may eat in Beijing,) but us out in the colonies. First we gat this thing called binggan 饼干， which supposedely translates into `cookie'. Now it ain't like any cookie I ever ate in Canada. Dry, tasteless circles of dirt is what I call 'em , no moisture, no sweetness, no fat at all. So a cookie first and foremost oughta have some sweetnes, and a bit of succulence. Now then ya got these plastic tubes of mystery meat, probably dessicated pig nostrils, which are supposed to be meat, yet they are sweeter than the cookies. So ya gots things that should be sweet, that ain't sweet. ya got things that oughta be salty, that are sweet. I think it is a yin/yang sorta deal, that wheel just keeps spinnin aroung. Dove chocolate bars are correct, but I think they are imported. Potato chips, not bad.
Apropos of nothing, I've got the same number of years as Heinz has varieties, I've had a toothache for the last three months, I suffer from periodic bouts of alcoholism, I have an IQ of 146 (according to Mensa), and I haven't had any respiratory illness for approximately 30 years, i.e. no cough, no cold, no sore throat, no chest congestion, no fever, nada, despite the fact occaisionaly I am a drunk and a chain smoker. ( But I does like eatin my broccoli and my garlic) Now speaking of Mensa, now that was a hoot. There I was, a just disfellowshiped Jehovah's Witness, toiling at a factory, trying to understand A.J Ayers `The Problem of Knowledge' because that was my problem, ( little did I know at the time, that is nothing writ by Ayers worth spending you mind on). Thus being a youngster in a precarious state, obviously I had to find someway to try and validate my existence, thus to a Mensa meeting I did go. Now a Mensa meeting consists primarily of folk standin around talkin bout how clever they are and how glad they are to be above the stupid rabble. That's about it. I didn't go back a second time. I actually like the stupid rabble. Someone once said, (me it was actually) ' mind trumps body, but heart trumps mind, but a heart and a mind require a body' . Sorta like rock, paper, scissors. Or maybe the trinity.
Re: Lockdown Essentials You Actually Need
Re: Lockdown Essentials You Actually Need
Re: Daily Delivery Tour – Where to Get a Classic Italian Lasagna
So there we was, jus me an Gin Martini, waitin for the whole kibbutz to show up, specially Mike cuz he say his Momma made a nice a lasagna for alla us. Salivatin were we both, thinkin bout Momma Serpenta's lasagna. Now jus then I noticed a big bollus of saliva collecting at corner of Gin's mouth and in a jest of humour, he had somehow stopped breathing. So slaps him hard on back and says `wake up, buddy, lest bar wench kick ya to curb' !! Ya jus bin vaccinated or is ya jus jokin around?' `Sorry' say he, `I was just practicin being dead, it's an exercise I learned in India. It requires deep concentration, and at least a liter of vodka, according to my guru.'
Finally, who is it, but Monsigneur Laffagut, sauntering spectacularly around nearby vestibule, hand held a fancy tray of pasta type foodstuffs, sans beef. Jus a sloppy mess of noodly and vaguely tomato based something. "Sorry, brethren, Mike has been waylaid and led astray down a deep dark sideways by the delicious Mary Hairy-Anne Rayce, and I alone have survived to tell the tale. Alas, I must report that Momma Serpenta has been defoiled and gone dark.
Gasps all around. `What !!? burbles Gin.
`Yes, tis true I am afraid' rejoinds the good Friar, `she has gone vegan'.
`Also', he continues, `she is rather alack and alas re: our purported gluttony, thus confides, and requests that her special `lasagna a la vego' be consummed in this particular manner.
Quizzical looks. Gin takes a deep inbreath, despoiling his wonted deathlyness.
Just then, mewlingly, came by Doug and Lucille, the catpeople, lips-lickingly proud with tails erect and expectant. `Whatcha slinky cats doin' here' snorfles Gin in a pique.
`Meow, meow' state Doug and Lucille in concordant unison.
The good Friar sets down matching sets of toenail clippers.
`I am afraid dear Ms Serpernto is concerned about your sins and requests that these, and only these, implements be used in the consumption of this, her last performance art piece: `Lasagna a la vego'.
Ravenous, Gin and I set to, toenail clippers a flashin, gorging on modicums of wheat based noodlish foodstuffs.
Luckily, just then crazy Timmy shows up, wearing a hollowed out pumpkin shell on his head, as the authorities had cautioned him about careening about without headgear. Not missing a beat, he begins exfoliating his nostril hairs with said toenail clippers, and arranging hairs in geometrical shapes. Suddenly he says `Tomorrow there will be a sea-battle, is this true or false?'
What then but Mike an Hairy Anne -Rayce come trippingly and superbly bustingly from outa the washroom, where hid they had been all the nonce.
`SURPRISE, SURPRISE' !!! they contiguously froth at curmudgeonly Gin. The whole gang is resplendant with head nodding and eye-winking, head dividing grinningness.
`Aw, shucks' redemonstrates Gin, `ya' all remembered it was the anniversary of my first expository ejaculation'. His face flushed in appreciation, and even bore a beatific mien.
Douglas and Lucille licked drippings from Momma Serpento's lasagna-ish dish, under the master's table.
The moon was waning.
So wuz it. So could be it. So shall it be perhaps.
Re: Lockdown Essentials You Actually Need
My lockdown essentials: a bike, a tent, a foamy, three tins of compressed gas (easily acquired on Taobao), simple one burner campstove, camping pot and pan, and 3 km ride to the countryside. Might be more difficult in Shanghai or Beijing, but works anywhere that I have lived in the past eight years. Bye, bye, see you in a few weeks.
Re: Updated Walkthrough: Booking a COVID-19 Test at Chaoyang...
Does this article need updating?
Re: Use This Mini-Program to Guarantee a Fast Covid Test Near...
and are these open during weekdays anymore?
doesn't seem so
Re: Bells, Drums, Cannons & Clocks: A Brief History of...
The clock exhibition in the Palace Musem is facinating if you're into mechanical things. However, be aware there's more than a slight whiff of light machine oil, so much so that my wife refused to stay in the place and sat outside and waited patiently for me.
Re: La Platea Brings Mediterranean Vibes to Sanlitun’s No 4....
I do like vibes. In my younger days I knew a buncha jazz musicians ( seriously, I did) including a very good `bone player (trombone, but they just called it `playin bone' , seriously ), Rex Rathgeber who split to Germany from Canada, to avoid paying back 50,000 dollars in student loans.... often wondered whatever happened to Rex. But playing the vibes is sorta like a combination of playing guitar (which I do, very well may I note) and playing the piano, because the layout of a vibraphone follows the physical key structure of the piano. Now vibes have not been, to my knowledge, distinguished according to geographical location, so I am not sure what these `mediterranean vibes' really are but I am keen to discover. Now we gots 3 things to consider here. We gots marimbas, we gots xylophones, and we gots vibraphones. I will leave to your personal voyage of discovery to the learn the difference, but I remain confuzzled as to the meaning of `mediteranean vibes' . Are these `vibes' musical instruments local to Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt? Please fill me in Beijinger, you are the newspaper of record, sorta like the Grey Lady of Beijing.
Now xylophones were once considered code names for martinis during prohibition and inhibition arousing operative procedures in Thailand had been undergone. Now martinis are generally made using vermouth, which means `green mouth' so I leave that to you imagination.
Re: Celebrate Beijing’s Reopening with These Events
Open, shut, open, shut, open, shut, close. That's how it goes.
Re: Snack Attack: Cool Yourself Down With This Chinese...
But here is an real fakual faktoid, Anissa Jones, who played Buffy, died at the age or 18 of an `accidental drug overdose' According to Wickedpedia, in post mortem, she was found to have cocaine, PCP, qualuudes and seconal in her body. 18 years old.
Re: Snack Attack: Cool Yourself Down With This Chinese...
Re: Snack Attack: Cool Yourself Down With This Chinese...
Re: Beersmith, Grill 79 Debut New Brunch Options
Re: Beersmith, Grill 79 Debut New Brunch Options
Re: Snack Attack: Cool Yourself Down With This Chinese...
So there we was, me, Gin Martini, Mike Garbanzo, Hairy Ayn Rand, and crazy Timmy . Now Timmy was busy counting the spokes on bikes and comparing them to the interstices of window framework. Gin was studiously reading Beowulf, Mike had a smirky smile on as he texted on his phone, Hairy had a nice short pinkish reddish sorta skirt that showed off well her corpus. Mike was getting cranky from inanition, so we all ordered us selves, a big communal dish of garbanzos, eatin it Chinese style, though we had no kuaizi, we all still had all our fingers, except for Gin. He had had some kinna accident in Japan. Just then came Doug and Lucille, cat people, boistering down the street. Now of course we invited Doug and Lucille to imbibe and eat with us. Lucille took her usual spot on my lap. Doug on Hairy Anne. Mike seemed somewhat confuzzled and claimed these were not legitimate garbanzos but imitation. Jin was still sneezing about Beowulf and decrying. The garbanzos were however all eaten and Doug and Lucille were both well cared for and stroked and massaged well. I did recall the shivering of my shin by Hairy-Ayn's bare naked foot though. What a naughty girl she is. Timmy counted every garbanzo bean in his bowl, compared and analyzed it with respects the spokes on his bicycle, and the interstices of the window frame, divided by the square root of 2 and came to a satisfactory conclusion. The next day he won 30 million dollars in the lottery and bought a small island near Haiti.
Re: Snack Attack: Cool Yourself Down With This Chinese...
Now I wantsa talk a bit here about another legume, specifically the garbanzo. Now `garbanzo' is clearly not an Anglo-Saxon, nor a Norman French word, therefore I wish to know it's provenance. Now garbanzos are also known as chick peas, and I could make about 12 and a half jokes about `chick pees' before bob was yer uncle. Notice though, that I love garbanzos, primarily as the basis for humus which I used to make regularly when I had easy access to canned Czech pees. Notice I have never seen a canned Czech pee, though I have seen a beaten Slovak piss. These are different phenomena. I do enjoy beans of almost all sorts, don't even get me started on lentils. I will leave that for another adventure.
Re: Murder Mystery Tour: Go Back in Time With This Classic...
[/quote]
Is there any group like Mensa for folks who are obnoxiously proud of their EQ? You know, "I compassion so much more deeply than the commun run of humanity." "I am profoundly humanitarian." "The only way to be is to inter-be."
[/quote] There is indeed a way to measure one's EQ. It works like this. You take off all your clothes. You stick you left hand fore-finger on yer nose. ya take yer right hand fore-finger, stick it in you left side earhole.(this may take some dexterity) Ya stand on yer left foot and hop around, counter clockwise, shouting ` I love everyone'. Calculate the number of counter-cloctwise circum-hoppings completed, divide by your bodily mass index, how white your skin is (counted in nanojoules), and there you have it your EQ.
Re: Beersmith, Grill 79 Debut New Brunch Options
Re: Beersmith, Grill 79 Debut New Brunch Options
I know this is a foody kinda newspaper (?) so lets have a little chat about foos (not like ye upscaler may eat in Beijing,) but us out in the colonies. First we gat this thing called binggan 饼干， which supposedely translates into `cookie'. Now it ain't like any cookie I ever ate in Canada. Dry, tasteless circles of dirt is what I call 'em , no moisture, no sweetness, no fat at all. So a cookie first and foremost oughta have some sweetnes, and a bit of succulence. Now then ya got these plastic tubes of mystery meat, probably dessicated pig nostrils, which are supposed to be meat, yet they are sweeter than the cookies. So ya gots things that should be sweet, that ain't sweet. ya got things that oughta be salty, that are sweet. I think it is a yin/yang sorta deal, that wheel just keeps spinnin aroung. Dove chocolate bars are correct, but I think they are imported. Potato chips, not bad.
Re: Murder Mystery Tour: Go Back in Time With This Classic...
Apropos of nothing, I've got the same number of years as Heinz has varieties, I've had a toothache for the last three months, I suffer from periodic bouts of alcoholism, I have an IQ of 146 (according to Mensa), and I haven't had any respiratory illness for approximately 30 years, i.e. no cough, no cold, no sore throat, no chest congestion, no fever, nada, despite the fact occaisionaly I am a drunk and a chain smoker. ( But I does like eatin my broccoli and my garlic) Now speaking of Mensa, now that was a hoot. There I was, a just disfellowshiped Jehovah's Witness, toiling at a factory, trying to understand A.J Ayers `The Problem of Knowledge' because that was my problem, ( little did I know at the time, that is nothing writ by Ayers worth spending you mind on). Thus being a youngster in a precarious state, obviously I had to find someway to try and validate my existence, thus to a Mensa meeting I did go. Now a Mensa meeting consists primarily of folk standin around talkin bout how clever they are and how glad they are to be above the stupid rabble. That's about it. I didn't go back a second time. I actually like the stupid rabble. Someone once said, (me it was actually) ' mind trumps body, but heart trumps mind, but a heart and a mind require a body' . Sorta like rock, paper, scissors. Or maybe the trinity.