Situación: Mi carro ha sido bloqueado por una camioneta de mierda con unos pocos centímetros para salir, después de algunos cálculos, salí de mi prisión en menos de lo que canta un gallo.
Yo: Verga, menos mal que mi carro es chiquito y pude salir más fácil.
Belkis: Yo siempre lo he dicho, mientras más chiquito es mejor.
Yo: ¿Qué, así le decías a tu marido?
Belkis: No, así le decía al otro.
Jenna: Hey Chloe, remember that time I got stuck in my room?
Chloe: Shit. Yes. That was nuts.
AnonymousJajajaja, tu blog me agradó bastante así que tb le sigo de vuelta caballero!
Saludos de vuelta, de parte de Val :)
xx
It’s amazing how sometimes the just perfect advice falls into your life at the just perfect time. I do truly believe that things happen for a reason, and things are brought together and into your life for a reason.
Today, I ran across a something my friend Colton wrote: “If someone wants…
Despite their humble, decades-old base technology (plain text), innovative uses of lo-fi technologies can be remarkably hi-fi, as in the case of AJAX (whose most famous application may be Google’s Gmail service).
Some things we believe in here for sure.
As if Cosby could get any cooler…these guys did it.
Via. VerySeriousBusiness.
tj:
tj:
1.
Hrm. I’ll let you know when something occurs to me.
Apparently they’ve screwed up the “Read More” links that they started “testing” back in October 2009 because it clearly didn’t work, even though I copied the
<!-- more -->code right from their page.Oh, but did you see that…
Ok, I’m calling “FAIL” on myself here.
As a few people pointed out, Tumblr explicitly stated that “more” links only work in text posts.
What I had was a “link” post.
So while you could fault Tumblr for not expanding this feature in the ~18 months since they announced it, it was me who screwed that one up, not Tumblr.
I was wrong. My bad. Mea culpa. Sorry Tumblr.
The Loneliest Whale in the World.
In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.
by Eric Howley
Country Music
Dude, I was at Lady Jay’s with Micaela the other night and this twee-ass country song came on and she got all nostalgic, did you remember she’s from Georgia? I know, me neither, no accent, but she got all fucking starry-eyed and started asking if I knew this song and that song by Kenny Chesney and Tim McGraw and Travis Tit or whoever the fuck and like, singing them by herself in the bar, right? And then last night we all had dinner at Sonja an’ Stumper’s place and she got drunk and insisted on like playing us all these fucking terrible music videos. Dude, have you ever watched a contemporary country-western music video? They’re like six-minute-long green-screen packed odes to ugly-ass Trixies with visibly hard nipples and assholes in bootcut jeans and long bleach-blond man-manes.
I mean, bluegrass is kinda rad, but douchebags with weird facial hair wearing tight shirts and stupid headgear, strumming at the guitar and singing whiny and depressing songs about alcohol with put-on accents? Fuck. to the. no.
Oh hey, you were gonna lend me that Wavves EP. Is it around?
