HUMANITY YOU FAIL SO HARD. GODDAMMIT

I searched for "equine anatomy diagram" on Google to hopefully get some more basic skeleton pictures to add things to.

One of the listings was this site. SFW but possibly NSFM.

I think the greatest amount of fail here is that this sort of thing on the internet generally just gets a "Huh. Look at that. Oh well, back to work!" reaction from me now.

Missed another one...

These days, I think the only time I genuinely feel homesick is around Hallowe'en - probably in part due to the fact that I know I can't go home then.

If you haven't heard me talk... repeatedly... at length... about why I'd rather be in Derry for Hallowe'en, see below for an idea.

Weekend fail.

I'm not sure if it's the jump in intensity from last year that's making me think this, or if it's actually true, but since term started I can't shake the feeling that weekends don't exactly thrive anymore. I mean, they're there, of course; last time I checked there were still two S days on the calendar. However, recently they seem to have come, gone and been cremated well before my mind and body have made the realisation that they existed in the first place.

I still really don't know how it's possible for two days to go by more quickly than any single day in the rest of the week seems to, but it may have something to do with unexpected damage to bikes and significant others - just a sprain and some fairly severe bruising, luckily, but spending 11.30pm-4am in A&E waiting for the single duty radiographer to get around to us did cause a slight shift our plans for the next day, as did the fact that walking and cycling both cause unpleasant amounts of pain. :(

Ways To Use & Abuse A Paddling Pool

My neighbours left their child-sized (about 3-4 foot diameter) inflatable paddling pool outside.

My thoughts for how to actively make the most of this situation are as follows:

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1. Fill with water. Obtain multiple Barbie and Action Man dolls and arrange in innocent pool party positions for future discovery.

2. Fill with Basics jelly, leave for discovery.

3. Fill with vodka. Invite friends.

4. Remove. Leave ransom note asking for cheese.

5. Strap to back. Go to pub. Refuse to use any words other than "Squirtle, squirtle!" in conversation.

6. Like #1, but leave dolls in significantly less innocent postions.

7. Like #6, but using only Action Man figures.

8. Giant. Frisbee.

9. Build small boat from cardboard. Place inside. Await children's reappearance while dressed in full pirate regalia.

10. Fill with scraps of tinfoil/ an unattended "full" rubbish bag. This is the practical route to achieving the real goal, i.e. turn pool into rave club for local magpies.

11. Buy several 15-packs of eggs. Empty into pool. Possibly scramble with electric whisk. If obnoxious music is added to the scene, this may also accomplish the ultimate goal of #10.

12. Surround with "No Diving" or, alternatively, "Pool Closed" signs.

13. Cut pineapple in half. Place in pool along with a yellow sponge and a garden snail.

14. Fill with odd socks and potting soil. That'll confuse the feckers.

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I'm sure this isn't all that could be done. More thought required.

Sinead's Hand

What can I say, I like ads that make their point well. Thought I'd share. :)

Well, it's finally happened.

I was standing outside a city-centre bar that gets a lot of the international crowd with Silvia, talking to a Derry man who'd picked up on her Espanish accent but was trying to convince her that she had a noticeable Derry twang to it. After making what was probably my second reply to the guy (the first being "no, I'm from Derry") he suddenly shifted into a look of extreme suspicion and yelled, "That's not a Derry accent!"

I can only assume that my dude wtf expression, combined with Silvia's immediate collapse into giggles, made him think he'd found me out.

"Where're ye from? Ye're like, from, America or somethin'!"

... Well, if you're going to lead me on like that, I can't be held responsible for seeing how far I can push the bullshit, can I? Engage fake accent:

"Aw man, but I thought my Derry accent was going so well..."

"AH-HAH! I knew it! Where're ye really from? [glow of smug]"

"I'm from Toronto - in Canada?"

"Aye, I know where Toronto is! [smugsmugsmug]"

Unfortunately, at that point the absolute sincere belief was a bit too much. Silvia and I made the mistake of making eye contact, and the ensuing mad cackling might have given it away. Probably for the best - I've really no idea what I would have said next.

However, the day still stands in infamy for being the first time I can remember that my actual accent has been even more unconvincing than a hastily-contrived fake one. Just... damn.

Really, you're not even trying anymore...

It's official: internet banner advertisers have realised that only retards buy their products, and have stopped worrying about fooling anyone with their before and after pictures:

Case #1:

Our supplement turns your gut to a six-pack and moobs into pecs! Also conveniently removes any tattoos you got to show off your pride at having achieved beer-pregnant fat bastard status.

Case #2:
Rule 1: deliver your unborn baby.

Additional rules: curl hair, get tan, somehow avoid post-baby breast-sagging and stretchmarks.

Pfft. Easy. 1 easy rule.