The preeste telleth me that we aren more than VII degrees of consanguinitee. Game on!

Let it be henceforth known that there need to be more websites like GALFRIDUS CHAUCERES LYNES OF PICKE-VPPE to amuse me. I was going to pick out ones that especially amuse me, but...

Feeling rebellious. Will probably bring the IPOD OF THREATENING NATIONAL SECURITY to base tomorrow, because I can't handle the stupid without some musical assistance.

[EDIT] Since it appears that there is some interest, I'm afraid that martialstax and I won't be getting married for three days and then divorced after all...at least not yet.

[EDIT2] There are t-shirt. Because my current wardrobe isn't obscure and geeky enough. There appears to be a distinct lack of black babydoll shirts, though, which is a Complication.

(no subject)

Study Shows Americans Sicker Than English

By CARLA K. JOHNSON and MIKE STOBBE, Associated Press Writers
Tue May 2, 10:47 PM ET

CHICAGO - White, middle-aged Americans — even those who are rich — are far less healthy than their peers in England, according to stunning new research that erases misconceptions and has experts scratching their heads.

Americans had higher rates of diabetes, heart disease, strokes, lung disease and cancer — findings that held true no matter what income or education level.
( The Rest )

SOURCE

The answer is really easy here - You get a mandatory minimum of 28 days off a year in England. Here in the US? 10 days. Add in all the unpaid overtime that so many have to put up with, and it's really no wonder.

I'm a genius scientist (*SNIIRK* If you believe my paycheck, anyway...), where's my 3.62 billion dollar research grant to study the health benefits of taking days off?

(no subject)

There is Baby-Poniage. Apparently, he's a gorgeous red and white paint, which means this whole "pimping The Very Stupid Horse for cash" gig might work out after all. As bizzare as that still sounds. Especially if my sister-in-law stays in the area, to handle all the transportation and icky bits. And the getting-bitten-and-kicked-by-horses bits. Somehow...not me.

Ok, this whole "living in the middle of nowhere across the street from cows" bit isn't really me either, except for the bit where I get to be antisocial and reclusive. And have secret passageways. And a bomb shelter. And a dye shed. I think we've had all of two people who weren't relatives or Stacey-and-Thomas at the house since we've moved here. HA HA! YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH MY TOYS OR POOL TABLE!

I need drugs. Lots of them. To make me sleep, or feel better, or something. Also waffles. I'll make an exception just this once and let you play with the pool table if you bring me waffles.

[EDIT] Ok, thinking about it, it's probably a good thing that random people don't stop by on a regular basis. Unless they're at least as random as I. I mean, I had a chainsaw in my living room for months and didn't even notice, so who the hell knows what else is lurking around my house to shock and terrify random visitors. I don't think there are any dead bodies laying around, but that's about as far as I'm willing to go.