I'm looking for that special someone who will share my passion for toast, all kinds of toast -- white toast, whole-wheat toast, rye toast, toasted bagels (and when I'm feeling wild and crazy, a Pop Tart.) To me, toast is the ultimate turn-on. There is nothing like a man who smells like toast! I picture us sitting on a couch in front of my sixty toasters, getting nice and toasty, sipping brandy from glasses with croutons floating in them, talking endlessly about the splendors of toast. Perhaps one day you will ask me to spread butter and jam on your body. Or cream cheese -- I'm not particular. Are you that special man?
That might sound good, but this is not just *any* free wood. This stuff is rotten. Sure, physically it might have some wear and tear as it's been stored outside for a few years, and I wouldn't recommend building anything you want to last with it, but the problem is in what it represents. My soul.
You see, I bought this wood at point in my life when I was happy and had a young family. I had things to build that my kids would enjoy and my wife would swoon over, saying "I can't believe I've married such a talented and handy man." Plans were hatched; the wood was purchased.
Then, as I began to build, the problems began. I accidentally cut the power cord to my skill saw, both metaphorically and in reality. That shit is hard to patch. The nail gun jammed. The rains came; the plans were put on hold.
The wood sat on the side of the house for the winter, covered that first year. Then the next summer came, and I had work inside the house to do...it sat for another year. When it was time to build the planters for the garden, I couldn't use the pine and fir; it wasn't stable enough to be buried in the ground. Just like my emotions.
Another year goes by and I leave the wood and my feelings open and raw to the rain and winds. All the sixteen-foot two-by-tens bowing to the weight of the repressed emotion and four-by-six PT posts. Eventually, as my feelings and sorrow were buried deep in the back yard, I moved the pile of slowly decaying wood under the tree hoping to shield myself and the planks from the relentless pounding.
Now, as my life has completely crumbled, I find myself moving. The wood has to go; it can't be used to build anything of value any longer. It might be useful for something temporary, like a one-night stand to hold the gate open while you wheel-barrow in a fresh load of dark-fir-mulch from Wood Waste Management. Otherwise, you might as well burn it in a giant bonfire; my tears and self loathing will only help to make the flames large and bright. The black smoke is my soul.
I need a sword. Something large, of fine craftsmanship and sturdy. Must be able to cleave a moose in half with one to two blows. This is extremely important. I need to arm for my time machine and i cant bring a gun to where im going, i dont want to give myself away as a time traveler and i have to fit in. I would prefer something from the renaissance period, as i am trying to save king louis VIII from bring executed. If all goes as planned, the present will change and i hope you all enjoy not having france a part of this planet anymore. Youre welcome in advance.
My wife is terribly dangerous in the kitchen. She cross-contaminates raw meat with other things constantly, takes dirty knives out of the sink to cut fruit for our children, refuses to wash produce from our urban garden or the grocery store before serving it, and refuses to use any kind of covering on food that is placed in the refrigerator. She has no normal sense of what is safe or appropriate.
While I have tried to point out to her that this is all extremely dangerous, she:
1. Is strong-willed and absolutely convinced that these things are not problems.
2. Notes that her mother does the same stuff and that she was trained in lab work by a Nobel Laureate (?!)
3. Believes she does not get sick and when she does, blames anything or anyone else.
As such, I would like to enlist someone's help to assemble and lead a team to convince my wife that she is on a reality show about dangerous kitchen behavior (title of show: TBD). You and I will work together to plan a script and you will produce. I am imagining that it goes something like this:
One weekend morning, there is a knock at the door.
Your team comes in, perhaps a host, a doctor, a scientist, and a cleaning expert, along with an authentic looking shooting crew (at least two professional looking cameras, a sound person, a director, and lighting person) You ambush her and tell her she's on a reality show about the most dangerous cooks or whatever, that you've been secretly filming her in the kitchen for the past month (you know how this part goes)... Then you show her the secret footage (which I have captured and which you will have edited).
The scientist, doctor, and cleaning person should all say appropriate reality show things like "in my entire career, I've never seen anything this dangerous...." etc. All reality show cliches welcome.
Then you will stage some kind of intervention in the kitchen, showing (and filming) how to clean with soap and water, how to wash a cutting board after cutting raw chicken, etc.
Then you will leave telling her that the episode is not yet scheduled to air, but probably sometime next year.
There will be no reveal. You will not tell her this was fake and I will not tell her this was fake - ever. We will be "waiting for it to air" for a year or so and then we will conclude that the show didn't get picked up, etc. My hope is that my leaving it all hanging, the impact on her behavior will be more severe.
The ideal candidate will have some film/tv experience, access to friends who can play these parts, and ideally access to the camera/lighting equipment for free or cheap to reduce the costs of this endeavor. Note that none of this equipment needs to be functional - there is no need to record any of this.
To apply, please send a brief treatment of your vision for this production and how you would staff and execute it, along with an initial rough budget. I will select the top proposals for in-person discussions.
I look forward to working with you and I thank you in advance for helping to protect my family from food borne illnesses and pesticides.
I was performing a magic trick that was going to make a 5 dollar bill appear in my buddy's wallet. I already owed him some money from when my last magic trick accidentally knocked one of his tooth out. So at least I knew if I did this trick right, I'd owe him $5 less than I already did for dental bills.
Here's the problem: The cash didn't end up in his wallet -- It ended up in one of yours instead. I did some investigating and it turns out the fiver ended up in the wallet of someone in the New York area. Not only did my trick fail but I'm also out $5 now which is a lot of money for an amateur magician in this economy.
Please check your wallet to see if you have an extra $5. If so it's probably mine. Maybe you've had a couple of drinks and aren't sure how many 5 dollar bills you had to begin with. Again, it's probably mine so before you sober up and have to deal with the shame and guilt of not doing the right thing immediately, you'll want to mail it to :
And after I receive my $5, I will not ask any questions about how or why you intercepted my magic trick
I have lots of free scrap wood available. This is mostly wood that breaks off of wooden pallets. This would be great for bonfires and camp fires. Guaranteed to get you laid. This sexy wood will set the romantic atmosphere that your woman has desired for years. Rekindle the flame of love. Also would be great to take the wood and make new pallets and sell them. We are located off of Fulton Industrial Boulevard near Six Flags.
I need someone to cross the inky blackness of space and crawl inside my craters. Real explorers only, please. An astronaut needs to hold his breath for 120 seconds -- hint, hint -- and subject themselves to rigourous training, both in theory and in practice. Orbit me. Orbit me for a month, or even just one night. It's been a while, so I'm looking for some groundbreaking missions. I need you to fall into my gravity well. I need you to make me scream "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind!" D/d free, you should be too. Althought I'm not opposed to orbiting at 420 feet.