The Dino-Aspie Ex-Café (for Those 40+... or feeling creaky)

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Penguins?

Last week started out out in the high 80s and almost 90 then we had a little cold-snap over the weekend 35-37 degrees at night,
haven't seen any frost yet. Might have an "Indian Summer" for my birthday this year like we had two years ago. First a couple of
days with frost then back in the 80s again.

It's the Electric Muffin. It's beyond good and evil.


Well, the Mark I was a chocolate and banana muffin. The chocolate didn't give good enough insulation between the mercury and the lemon juice, so it generated these irregular spark discharges that don't make you half jump. The Mark II has the lithium battery and the blue LEDs, to give you that inner glow. I managed to make the LEDs look just like the blueberries I baked in. But my tests with the unbaked wires show that the insulation is only going to hold out for about 24 hours, which may not be enough to complete the passage without the help of laxatives. I want the Mark II back to see whether the baking has improved or reduced the longevity of the insulation in the alimentary tract.


For those who haven't seen Ike yet, here is why it's safe to blame him once you have his consent. If you say "it was Ike" and point to him, people just go away quietly. Ike is an honoured guest of the cafe, who has solved many problems for us, in his quiet, dignified and understated manner:
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQrYgJrafqM[/youtube]
I don't recommend blaming Ike without his consent. He gets a little upset if he feels he's been unfairly treated.


Not even expensive, because all you need is a layer a few atoms thick condensed onto a mylar foil in a vacuum chamber. I use the one in the back room. You must have seen it, it's the big pink box right next to the fridge in which Chuck keeps his explosives.


She will be, if she wears that lipstick, though perhaps not in the sense you mean. You weren't at the trial, were you? It's like this. You know how to measure how hot chili peppers are? You dilute them until you can just detect them in a double blind test (ask Lau). Then you look at the dilution factor. A few years back, someone bred a new chili 10000 times hotter than the previous record holder. The stuff that makes chilis hot is capsaicin, which doesn't actually hit taste receptors, but pain receptors. It's fat soluble. You can dissolve it in cocoa for hot chocolate that really deserves the name, and put it in the vending machine where the milk marketing board meets. You can also put it in lipstick. In its raw form, the capsaicin takes a few seconds to diffuse through the skin before it has an effect. Long enough to apply the lipstick. The alternative is that you put it into microspheres, which you can engineer either for a fairly precisely timed delayed release, or you can make them release when hit by radio waves of the right frequency. Especially if you use the radio method, you can trace where the lips that originally carried the lipstick have been. It makes conventions really fascinating.

Of course, that I know these facts now in no way implies that I knew them before the trial. Ike is the one who did it.

For the general edification, cheerification and intellectual and spiritual upliftivity of the guests of the cafe, I shall now mount the soap box in the poetry corner, and declaim a poem which I have had the honour to hear recently. Note that the poem uses British English, not American English(1). The poem is rated PG, because of anatomy. May those of delicate sensibilities remove their children, close their ears and avert their eyes:


Ode to the Joy of being a Glow Worm

I wish I were a glow worm,
A glow worm's never glum.
For how can you be gloomy,
When light shines out your bum


(1) Meaning it does not refer to a tramp.

Oh Sapphix THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!! !
I come back from the post office and there it is, I'v waited a loooong time for a translation. It's still beautiful, even in English. And even through I'm an atheist, I find its message very powerful. I espically like the verse.

Bless our efforts
of union and self-uplift,
Of education and mutual understanding
and bless them.

Not a big fan of ours. Actually, to be blunt and tactless, I really hate it. Bunch of Warmongers even then.(Proably get picked up by "The unlawful surveillance Police" for saying that, haha but true ) Anyhow thank you so much just called my 20 year old and told read it to her. Her first words were "Why can't ours be like that?" Guess that saying about the apple not falling far from the tree is right in some ways huh?
Oh yeah, first and foremost you must at all times realize that I'm a "computer inept" person and I don't even OWN and MP3 player nor do I know how to download to one. However I have been thinking of getting an Ipod (Come on PFD ) so my music doesn't skip when I ride. But my daughter said it could just be downloaded to my computer and then I could listen to it while I read. She said she'd help me, shes a good kid, so I'll send you my email o.k. And thanks again. It really is beautiful,

It's been in the 80's all week here, dropping down to the low 60's at night.

36 and grey outside. Still no snow so not complaining. Finally started wearing a jacket yesterday!

Its my pleasure! I'm not religious either, but I think that hope and courage are beyond religion.

Humm XP reinstall went pretty well, fairly fast as such things go. Soo, hold your hate mail to Billy Gates or... you can send it for allowing me back on the net, which ever.

Ok, Sapphix, all this out of sync talkin is starting to look like my gurl Merles statement and I'm already shifting gears on my sneakers, because apparently Lemon is on her side too. Now that makes no damn sense because Lemon is in ...ahh never mind, I need a nap, since I have no idea really what day and night means anymore. As far as sleep goes anyway.

Shifting gears on your sneakers can be dangerous, you always run the risk of getting a flat. (also called blowing a tennie [as in tennis shoe]) Go careening into a wall or a wayward penguin. Many a tooth through a lip with this nasty gear shiftin.

You do know what the real meaning of Indian summer is don't you Richie? It wasn't a good thing, well it was for the Indians. Oh well, time does change things. Little nap time might do it, yup it might. I have to stay in sync. Probably dream of Lemon and Merle stealing my tennis shoe and I'll bet they are dressed like penguins, might be a symbol of nuns with guns. Don't ask.

Obviously I chewed through my leather restraints today Blessed.

44 F at the moment.

The Indians haven't gone on a raid for more than 150 years in these parts. But still we are having unseasonably warm days.
70 Degrees F here.

Last edited by richie on 15 Oct 2007, 3:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Good night, tangy dreams.

Wow! I've been trying to play my guitar in that joyous, beautiful, sweeping, circular rythym since I first heard Fela Kuti and King Sunny Ade. Not easy when your band mates are moody post punk industrialists. Well it was the 1980s. Listening to Sam Mangwana and Soukous at the moment.
When I'm walking down the street, with this music on my mp3, I have to check myself, in case I flail my arms at the side, or skip or spin

I'd flail, skip and spin, I quit caring what strangers think of me a LOOONG time ago,(had to, to want to survive) besides it keeps the weirdos away from you. (Or maybe they still think I'm the "weirdo" ) I don't really care, I "dance" and sing when I'm driving the car and you should see some of the looks I get. The tourists take pictures...no kidding. Now when I see someone looking at me I just stare back and Smile really big. It seems to really freak them out. It's fun for me in it's own way now.

Some loathesome entity has taken up residence in my sinuses and is cackling insanely at all efforts to evict it. It is springtime here (south coast NSW) and the pollen counts are factoring into the situation, DAMN trees & grasses and their sex lives. Scuse me a moment.

(coughing and gagging audible in background)

Yeah, so. One step forward, three steps back. Reading the Gromit/Postie exchange was therapeutic. Made me forget about my aching head for a good five minutes! (Okay, I'm a slow reader, sue me.)

Welcome, Sapphix, another southern-hemisphere dweller!

Somebody remind me to be cranky tomorrow. We got home this evening to find that a neighbor has painted their place with oil-based paint. And the fumes vented into our unit through our mutually shared bathroom exhausts, I assume. I think it may be our next door, rather than our downstairs neighbor. We've had the windows open and the bathroom fans going for four to five hours now and it still reeks of oil paint in our bedrooms. My sinuses are screaming.

Add to that my latest kitchen disaster - I had a large pyrex baking pan full of stuffing that I'd taken out of the oven and placed on the stove to cool. The burner was off. I went in later and, like an idiot, carefully checked to see which knob I was turning so I would NOT turn the burner under the baking dish on. (Wanted to get the kettle on the back burner going for tea.)

And promptly did so.

Left the room, waiting for the tea kettle to whistle. Had, instead, an impressive explosion and sound of breaking glass. Found large glass shards 10 feet away in our den, glass embedded in the wall, all over the smoking stove, stuffing and shards everywhere. Swept three times, damp mopped twice, got on the floor with a washcloth. STILL getting tiny shards of glass up. Tried the vacuum. Assume that's got most of the rest of it. Oy. The good side is that nobody was in the kitchen when it blew up. The bad side is that for the next several months we're going to find glass shards in our feet, and probably our food.

Moral of the story is: If you're really tired and your kid says she doesn't feel like getting off her butt to put the tea kettle on for you, do without.


Say good night, Nan. Goodnight, Nan.

Oh Nan, that's awful! You think a nice cuppa will help clear your head, and instead you end up with a massive wet/sharp cleanup and no cuppa. Yeah, Pyrex and stove burners, not a happy combination.

Pyrex(TM)

Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch.....

Never ever say that word in front of me, you have been warned.

Making that stuff..... foam ear plugs, head set ear dampers and the machines and glass kilns still roared through. Have burns and scars all over my body, the smell of oil and burning rubber (used long sticks of real rubber to keep the glass from sticking in the hot molds), red hot glass (notice I didn't use THAT word), things blowing up (you saw that one). Talked to me all night, made me the man I am today. Now, you know what I am, that should be the warning, but, I can be worse........

Even made the stuff in the hand shops. While generally that's blowing glass, there was a small press in it. I had a monstrous Pyrex baking dish from there. Also huge bottles they use in milking parlors. They were done on the German system, which means you didn't have enough air in the human lungs to blow it to the right size, so used compressed air (more to it then that, but that's kind of basic). When it got inspected, sometimes there would be what they called "checks", that would mean it wouldn't pass. That meant two things, if you were doing piece work, it didn't count towards your total and you were one more short of the extra money. Second, you could buy it dirt cheap, as in by weight. I've forgotten all the different types of that stuff I worked the press machines on, the types changed as the quotas were met. But the work was always the same, keep the ware that didn't form in the molds correctly from getting back to the plunger, if it did, that was big down time. And a seriously pissed off gaffer. You got the red hot glass out with a poker and most times you never hit the cullet chute, which meant you were standing in it with oil soaked slippery floors.

Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch and slipped on my ass. You're safe, for now.....

But the glass museum in Corning NY is worth the time to go through, if anyone is ever in the area. Nothing like it in the world. Also gliders near by, that's a fun little ride. Small little custom art glass shops on the main streets of town now. Stubenware for sale, seriously expensive, or can be, in the museum. The workers used to swipe that stuff all the time, had little defects in them (sometimes), but they cracked down on that one, big time. But really something to watch the artist's make it. They even have a machine I worked on once in a while for making bottles, we nicknamed it the octopus. It's in the museum now. It should be, it was one of the first mechanical bottle makers. Hated that thing.

It shouldn't have done what it did. Sounds like an inspector was asleep at the wheel. (Wasn't me, err, I don't think, but might be my fault. I was pretty anal about that inspecting stuff.) I don't know if you could get it returned. They really are out of the glass making business, as far as most of the kitchen stuff is concerned. Other outfits took it over to a degree. Might not have been Corning made, hard to know who took the name over.

(sorry if I told that story already, I might have)