I was really not looking forward to going into the office today, then I realized I could wear my Sonic tie and that nobody could stop me.
why are people shipping elsa with jack frost
we all know who the real icy otp is
vanilla chocolate swirl 4eva
so we’re calling this a frotp right? right???
Happy Halloween! I don’t often get dressed up but this year I decided to make a costume based on my favourite prototype development board, the arduino :) It was a lot of fun and it elicited a lot of bewildered stares but my techie friends loved it and so do I!
It’s hard to tell in the first photo but the outfit is covered in puff-paint traces - all up and down the arms and over the back. It was a lot of work but it looks really cool. The lights down the side blink to a pattern I programmed and are powered by the arduino around my neck. The wires along the side were glow sticks and represent the tangled mess that any arduino project is in its first stages.
My favourite part is probably the fascinator which has a second microcontroller and a little blinky thing. This was my first time soldering “free” wires and 8/8 of the LEDs worked, which I’m very proud of because the wires go alllll the way down the side and alllll the way back up the shirt.
officially at the point where i can’t tell if all these webcomics are genuinely funny or if i’m just brainsleepy
It’s 2am and I woke up an hour ago, so have a terrible tumblrgif of me doing whatever “dance” I could think of that’d fit in a 4-frame loop.
If you build a fort with me, I’ll let you fuck me in it.
i like that this doesn’t specify whether “pillow” or “actual defensive structure meant to protect an area against sustained attacks”
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice …” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.
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Just because we are called “Freelancers”doesn’t mean we work for free.
Creative freelancers should just be called art mercenaries
Can we just change “freelance” to “mercenary” in all contexts?