(no subject)

Sep. 23rd, 2017 08:37 am
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[personal profile] mycroftca
Last night, we went to see Kingsman: The Golden Circle. It's a bit of fun, though I liked the first one a bit better. Clearly set up for sequels.

Today will be devoted to a bit of gardening in the front yard as was a portion of last weekend. Mostly maintenance work rather than any major additions.

And there's my last couple of weeks. Work, I just can't talk about, not that there's anything bad there. I'm still loving my job, no worries there, I'm finding that there's things that I must do that are a bit outside of my comfort zone but I'm getting them done because it's what's right and it's what has to be done.

And then there's happy 5778 for those who recognize the number system...

People Wonder Why...

Sep. 19th, 2017 09:25 pm
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[personal profile] malinaldarose
I'm sure people wonder why I don't ask for help with my household woes. Here's how those conversations go:

Them: I'll be glad to help you any time. All you have to do is ask.
Me: Great! I need some help, please.
Them: *crickets*

While I was walking Jack this afternoon, I went into the vacant lot behind my fence to see what was going on with the sumac tree. It doesn't look like it has actually collapsed on my fence. It looks like a shoot of it (now a large trunk) started out growing across the ground toward my fence, and then bits of it grew upward, so that now it really looks like it's collasped across the fence. I think the fence has actually collapsed under the weight of the grape vines.

I don't suppose I should be cutting any trees on property that doesn't belong to me, but it's a vacant lot, and the people who own it don't do any more than mow it every couple of weeks. I can at least cut the portions that are threatening my fence, I suppose. It's not like it's an oak or a maple that someone planted; it's a sumac, so it's basically an enthusiastic weed. Were HTWIWM here, the thing never would've gotten beyond sapling stage, as he used to keep the fence-line tidied up.

In any case, I will ask my mother if she will allow my father Dad could help me clean up back there and replace the fence. Otherwise I guess I'll have to obtain a chainsaw and learn how to use it.

Today was an absolutely miserable excuse for a day. It started poorly with the dog yarking his morning pills, continued poorly with my left foot feeling as though I were constantly walking on rocks, and just sort of petered out. I had intended to mow the lawn, now that the grass is growing again, and the leaves are falling, but didn't want to aggravate the foot which is hurting less, but is still Not Right. Oh, and I broke my watch strap. Not the tattered one, either. This was one of the good ones. It's the second watch strap in a week -- the strap on the celestial watch broke, too. Well, technically, the pin popped out, but I was outdoors at the time and couldn't find it, so it counts as broken.

On the plus side, Zulily had a sale on Wonder Woman merchandise, so I bought part of BFT's Christmas present.

Oh, and I got a couple of Halloween photo props: a miniature Rider-Waite tarot deck, and an even smaller RW deck. Yes, it's TeenyTinyTarot! (It's so cute!)
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[personal profile] kyburg
mizumew:

This is gonna be quick and sloppy, since I’m still at the vet with my cat.

A few days ago, Yin got into a bobbin of thread and ate some of it. 3 days later, she’s been hospitalized since Thursday and will be going into surgery tonight. The cost is immense. The minimum estimate is $5,500.

I am willing to do commissions to help pay- FNAF related or not. Yin is my baby and anything helps. Please consider helping, or at least passing this along. My paypal is golden.pika@gmail.com. Please message me for more information about commissions. Thank you.

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Today's Forgotten English Word

Sep. 18th, 2017 02:35 pm
malinaldarose: (delenn_word)
[personal profile] malinaldarose
scragglings: Undersized apples left on the tree as worthless. The little apples are often very sweet and palatable, however. From this term comes the adjective "scriggly, small and shrivelled, as a "scriggly bit o' meat," that small portion of a joint where it is dried up or over-roasted. It is likely that the word is connected with shrivel. Gloucestershire (scriggles), Upton-on-Severn (scriggling), and West Worcestershire (scrogglings). [g. F. Northall's Warwickshire Word-Book, 1896]

And Sometimes....

Sep. 18th, 2017 02:22 pm
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[personal profile] malinaldarose
I was getting worried because the garage didn't call -- and they usually call me quite early. Turns out that they couldn't, of course, replicate the problems I had. They did go ahead and replace the radiator cap and a cracked tube (also related to the radiator, I think). The mechanic still thinks the water problem (and we're pretty sure it's water, now) is from the exhaust. I'm still pretty sure that that's rather too much water to be coming from the exhaust. But he did say that he thinks the overheating problem is probably the a/c fan, and that's a dealer part, so he recommended that I make an appointment with the dealer across town to have it tested. He also says that as long as I don't use the a/c, it can wait until spring. And so it probably will.

Shortly after he called, I realized it was just after 1:00 -- which is why my sister takes her lunch, so I asked if she'd come get me and drive me up to the garage as it's rather muggy and there's no shade between here and there. She did, and so I'm home with the van. I may load Jack up in a little bit and take him to see Grama. And I may take a nap.

I did take him outside a bit ago, and wandered to the back of the yard to check out the grapes...and discovered that a huge span of the back fence is collapsed down to about waist height. I can't decide from inside the yard whether a deer did it or whether a sumac in the vacant yard collapsed on it. It may be a little of both. In any case, I'm going to need help to fix it, and preferably help with a chain saw. Well, it's about time to replace the fencing, anyway; it's been in place for seventeen and a half years and it's really only glorified chicken wire. I could probably do it all by myself if it weren't for the sumac. I'm going to have to look from the other side of the fence, but not today. The last time I went through it, I zip-tied the gate shut, and I don't feel like messing with it. Plus, there's nothing I can do without help.

Sometimes I just want to cry.

After being baked by the August sun, the grass in the lawn has started to grow again. I just mowed on...when was it? Tuesday? Anyway, the yard is getting shaggy again. I should really go out there this afternoon and take care of it...and I'm really not going to.

Monday Again

Sep. 18th, 2017 07:49 am
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[personal profile] malinaldarose
So, it is Monday, and I have taken the day off. The van is at the garage to see if they can figure out what the heck is up with it. And I just remembered to turn the ringer back on on the phone -- though I'll probably spend at least the morning in my office working on eBay listings. Or maybe shopping; I have had a few thoughts about Christmas, and there's little point in waiting -- I won't have more money for shopping later than I do now, so....

Oh. My. God. Jack just farted. Wow.

I have the house opened up because after a week of fall, we're back to summer, with temps in the high 70s or low 80s, and it's a bit stuffy in here. It's supposed to be 80° again today, so I need to cool the house back down. It won't take long, and I won't have to shut things up again until midmorning when the fog burns off.

I should totally go do the dishes while it's still cool, and while it's still too early to listen for the phone.

There is apparently not a great deal to report here. I took BFT out to lunch on Saturday -- it was the first time she'd been out of the house since her surgery the previous Friday, and she was going a little stir-crazy. We stopped at Joann's on the way home and bought Halloween decorations. She's setting up a little Halloween display in her kitchen window, and I'm buying props for some still life photos I have in mind. Which reminds me that I have to go down to the basement and dig out my Rider-Waite deck. I used to have a teensy one with cards only about an inch or two big, but I don't think I'll be able to find those. Probably lost in some move or other. Or maybe I dreamed them, though I don't think so. I think I got rid of my Ouija board, too. Still, I probably have enough stuff around here to use as props.

Yesterday...I noodled around the house. Cleaned my desk off so that I'd have room to work on the eBay stuff, vacuumed the house (up and down), snipped the stems of the flowers I bought last week and re-vased them, and dropped the van off at the garage. (Walked home, of course.) Last evening, I had a fire in the firepit (after raking the downed leaves away from where I usually set it up). I burned four more envelopes full of cancelled checks and other financial paperwork, thus doing my part to save HTWIWM from identity theft. I do like watching those papers burn; whether it's the ink or the paper, the flames are green. It's so cool. (Well. Technically, it's quite hot, but you get the idea.) I think there are four envelopes left. When I found these papers, I had no experience with burning things to dispose of them, and I thought stuffing all of these checks and bank and credit card statements into business-size envelopes and burning them like logs would work out with no problem. Yeah, then I learned about burning papers. Individual papers will take off like...well, like a house afire, but compacted papers? Not so much. So I have to keep stirring them. Which is one of the reasons I don't have a fire if it's windy, because I don't want burning paper flying all over the place.

In any case, I think I'm nearly done with HIS papers, and can move on to my own, as I recently found a file box full of decade-old financial paperwork. Not much point in stressing the shredder, though I suppose I could gradually sneak them into the shredding bin at work and have done.

I found that little refund check on my desk yesterday afternoon. I still can't quite make up my mind what to do about it. It's for 79 cents. The utterly correct thing to do -- and also the utterly bitchy thing -- would be to stuff it into another envelope and mail it to some friends to have them pass it on to him. On the other hand, it's for 79 cents, so it might just as well go into the shredding.

Eh, I'll think on it some more. Probably it'll end up in the shredding.

(no subject)

Sep. 17th, 2017 05:04 pm
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[personal profile] randomdreams
Water temp meter part II:
I left the project half-finished last night, intending to fill the radiator with the water that had been lost in pulling out the water temperature sensor. This morning I got up, intending to drive the Spitfire over to the Annual Little British Car Show, poured a bunch of water in, and watched it cascade out of the sensor recess. Tightening the nutbolt (a bolt with a hole through the center that the sensor lives in) down didn't help. I drove my normal car over, checked out some pretty cars, and drove back, and then removed the sensor and started poking at it. Halfway up the bulb that lives in the water, there's a tapered ring of metal. I thought it was a precision tapered ring, that sealed against the matching taper inside the water pump. But this is automotive: there is nothing precision outside of the innards of the engine and transmission. Instead there was secretly a rubber gasket that, when I removed the old sensor, had stayed inside the water pump housing. It was totally shot, and no amount of trying to carefully put it back in was going to save it. I ended up getting an o-ring from my collection of high temperature water-resistant o-rings and using that instead, but because it was smaller, the nutbolt no longer managed to press the sensor down well enough to seal. I had to cut a little collet on the lathe, like a thick washer but sawed in half so it could be put in two pieces around the sensor line. With that, everything sealed correctly, as far as I can tell, and the car is ready to go again. A quick jaunt around the block shows the water temperature gauge indicating roughly the right numbers. I'll check tonight to see if the radiator is full of water.

(no subject)

Sep. 17th, 2017 09:26 am
randomdreams: riding up mini slickrock (Default)
[personal profile] randomdreams
The water temperature gauge on the Spitfire has slowly been dying. It was reading 120F when the car had been off for two days, and got up to 160F when the car was running. It was a really cheap unit. I bought another really cheap unit off ebay and replaced it last night, which was way more of a pain than it should have been, because the previous owner ran a LOT of extra wires through the grommet in the firewall and there was no longer room for the sensor to fit through. I also forgot that the first step is putting the gauge in the dash, because you can't remove the sensor from the gauge, so after routing the sensor through the grommet and along the engine and installing it in the water pump, I had to undo it, feed it through the dash, and redo it. But now it works, at least.

Yesterday I spent about five hours painting the house, getting a layer or two of exterior paint on all the sun-facing wood on the first floor, and getting a good start on the non-sun-facing wood. Today I'll get the small amount of wood on the second floor. Man this is sore work, all above my head, a lot of it from a ladder, but it should last several years and more importantly prevent the wood being damaged by being exposed, as it was. Looks a lot better, too, than all the flaking and peeling paint that had been there since we moved in.
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[personal profile] kyburg
“When we shot the scene in the National Cathedral where Bartlet’s walking down the aisle and cursing at God, first of all, we shot it at the National Cathedral in Washington. It’s a magnificent place. And, we were rehearsing, and I looked behind me and saw in the back of the room that a number of clergy had gathered, and I thought, ‘You know, I should tell them what’s about to happen. It seems like the least I can – the least rude I can be is to at least tell them what’s gonna happen.’
I walked up to the priest that was closest to me, and said ‘I just wanted to let you know that Martin Sheen, in this scene we’re gonna do, he’s gonna curse at God.’
And the priest said, ‘I know. It’s gonna be great.’”
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WHAT. This sounds false but I am WILLING TO BUY A CAN OF CHICKPEAS THIS VERY DAY AND TRY THIS. 

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jumpingjacktrash:

naamahdarling:

allthingslinguistic:

hiddenlacuna:

madlori:

nicholassabalos:

Kilroy Was Here!

He’s engraved in stone in the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC – back in a small alcove where very few people have seen it. For the WWII generation, this will bring back memories. For younger folks, it’s a bit of trivia that is an intrinsic part of American history and legend.

Anyone born between 1913 to about 1950, is very familiar with Kilroy. No one knew why he was so well known….but everybody seemed to get into it. It was the fad of its time!

          At the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC

So who was Kilroy?

In 1946 the American Transit Association, through its radio program, “Speak to America,” sponsored a nationwide contest to find the real Kilroy….now a larger-than-life legend of just-ended World War II….offering a prize of a real trolley car to the person who could prove himself to be the genuine article.

Almost 40 men stepped forward to make that claim, but only James Kilroy from Halifax, Massachusetts, had credible and verifiable evidence of his identity.

“Kilroy” was a 46-year old shipyard worker during World War II (1941-1945) who worked as a quality assurance checker at the Fore River Shipyard in Quincy, Massachusetts (a major shipbuilder for the United States Navy for a century until the 1980s).  

His job was to go around and check on the number of rivets completed. (Rivets held ships together before the advent of modern welding techniques.) Riveters were on piece work wages….so they got paid by the rivet. He would count a block of rivets and put a check mark in semi-waxed lumber chalk (similar to crayon), so the rivets wouldn’t be counted more than once.

                                     A warship hull with rivets

When Kilroy went off duty, the riveters would surreptitiously erase the mark. Later, an off-shift inspector would come through and count the rivets a second time, resulting in double pay for the riveters!

One day Kilroy’s boss called him into his office. The foreman was upset about unusually high wages being “earned” by riveters, and asked him to investigate. It was then he realized what had been going on. 

The tight spaces he had to crawl in to check the rivets didn’t lend themselves to lugging around a paint can and brush, so Kilroy decided to stick with the waxy chalk. He continued to put his check mark on each job he inspected, but added ”KILROY WAS HERE!“ in king-sized letters next to the check….and eventually added the sketch of the guy with the long nose peering over the fence….and that became part of the Kilroy message.

   Kilroy’s original shipyard inspection “trademark” during World War II

Once he did that, the riveters stopped trying to wipe away his marks.

Ordinarily the rivets and chalk marks would have been covered up with paint. With World War II on in full swing, however, ships were leaving the Quincy Yard so fast that there wasn’t time to paint them. As a result, Kilroy’s inspection “trademark” was seen by thousands of servicemen who boarded the troopships the yard produced.

His message apparently rang a bell with the servicemen, because they picked it up and spread it all over the European and the Pacific war zones.

Before war’s end, “Kilroy” had been here, there, and everywhere on the long hauls to Berlin and Tokyo. 

To the troops outbound in those ships, however, he was a complete mystery; all they knew for sure was that someone named Kilroy had “been there first.” As a joke, U.S. servicemen began placing the graffiti wherever they landed, claiming it was already there when they arrived.

As the World War II wore on, the legend grew. Underwater demolition teams routinely sneaked ashore on Japanese-held islands in the Pacific to map the terrain for coming invasions by U.S. troops (and thus, presumably, were the first GI’s there). On one occasion, however, they reported seeing enemy troops painting over the Kilroy logo!

Kilroy became the U.S. super-GI who had always “already been” wherever GIs went. It became a challenge to place the logo in the most unlikely places imaginable. (It is said to now be atop Mt. Everest, the Statue of Liberty, the underside of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and even scrawled in the dust on the moon by the American astronauts who walked there between 1969 and 1972.

In 1945, as World War II was ending, an outhouse was built for the exclusive use of Allied leaders Harry Truman, Joseph Stalin, and Winston Churchill at the Potsdam Conference. It’s first occupant was Stalin, who emerged and asked his aide (in Russian), “Who is Kilroy?”

To help prove his authenticity in 1946, James Kilroy brought along officials from the shipyard and some of the riveters. He won the trolley car….which he

attached to the Kilroy home and used to provide living quarters for six of the family’s nine children….thereby solving what had become an acute housing crisis for the Kilroys.

                     The new addition to the Kilroy family home.

                                        *          *          *          *

And the tradition continues into the 21st century…

In 2011 outside the now-late-Osama Bin Laden’s hideaway house in

Abbottabad, Pakistan….shortly after the al-Qaida-terrorist was killed by U.S. Navy SEALs. 

>>Note: The Kilroy graffiti on the southwest wall of the Bin Laden compound pictured above was real (not digitally altered with Microsoft Paint, as postulated by some). The entire compound was leveled in 2012 for redevelopment by a Pakistani company as an amusement park….and to avoid it becoming a shrine to Bin Laden’s nefarious memory.

                                         *          *          *          *

A personal note….

My Dad’s trademark signature on cards, letters and notes to my sisters and I for the first 50 or so years of our lives (until we lost him to cancer) was to add the image of “Kilroy” at the end. We kids never ceased to get a thrill out of this….even as we evolved into adulthood. 

To this day, the “Kilroy” image brings back a vivid image of my awesome Dad into my head….and my heart!

Dad: This one’s for you!

OMG I’m so glad to know this backstory.

I heard Kilroy had the first Tumblr account!

A proto-meme!

I had no idea about this story, although I knew the phrase. This is so cool!

pre-internet memes are so fun to investigate.

there was one in minneapolis in the 90′s that i know the secret story about.

for a while, across the twin cities, you’d see the words SO EMPTY INSIDE everywhere, sometimes accompanied by a doodled food item like a piece of cake or a burger. i heard people speculating about it, and many didn’t connect the words with the food. they assumed it was just some doomy goth thing, and couldn’t figure out why it was everywhere, since doomy goths don’t usually go on statewide graffitti sprees.

but i was there for the beginning: an open mic night at the hard times cafe. the punks who mostly hung out there had lots of fun with open mic nights, and it was usually pretty entertaining, unlike the pretentious fare at other open mics. i myself usually did a bit of funny poetry, and when i’d had enough caffeine i’d freestyle improv dirty limericks from prompts. but once or twice per night someone didn’t read the room correctly and brought their serious face. usually some college boy with a guitar. on this particular night, it was a girl who was pretty much cosplaying ani di franco and put her mouth way too close to the mic as she spit her doomy doom doom poetry.

it was the type of stuff that high school kids write before they realize the concept of death is only shocking to high school kids, you know? nothing unusual except that it was SO over the top and she was SO serious about it, and the way she leaned into the mic so her teeth sometimes bumped it and every plosive spat static. we heckled at first, then just giggled, and then stared in reluctant respect for the sheer excess of her. and the very peak of this mountain of teen angst bullshit was the line, “so empty inside… nothing can fill it… BUT A BULLET.”

after she left the stage, there was a confused silence. then jj kidder, a long capering jester of a punk you couldn’t not love, said solemnly, “so empty inside… nothing can fill it… BUT A DONUT.” and the room fell apart.

apparently he actually wanted a donut, but he started a meme instead. by the next morning the graffitti had started showing up. if you said “so empty inside” to a tc punk, it was about guaranteed they’d finish with “nothing can fill it BUT A PORK CHOP” or some other random food item.

it took years for the meme to die. i was still seeing fresh graffitti a decade later. i’m not altogether sure that if i went and painted it on some underpass today it wouldn’t just start up again.

I’ve been Kilroy. 99
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scifigrl47:

pigeoncomics:

Pigeon Comic 59 - Holding Out For A Hero

by Bonnie Tyler

PIGEONS PIGEONS PIGEONS

Pigeon fan fic. The day is saved.

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scifigrl47:

So even after our vacation to Disney last year, I still read the Disney blogs, and obviously, with the Hurricane Irma heading right towards Florida, they’ve been doing their best to get information in order and help people figure out how to handle this.

It’s like a weird psychology experiment to read the blog say, “So parts of Florida are under mandatory evacuation, supplies of food, water and gas are running low and many stores are only permitting people to buy limited amounts to avoid stockpiling, no one knows how long whole counties will be under water or without power, and airlines are already cancelling flights.”

And having someone in the comments say, “Well, yeah, I hear that, but we’ve been planning this vacation for a LONG TIME, so we’re just driving down to Florida anyway.”

Driving.  Down.  Into a mandatory evacuation zone.  To shelter in place at a hotel.  To visit a theme park that may or may not even be open.

One of the blog staff was like, “Yeah, so, write your name and any medical conditions on your forearms with sharpie so that if you’re incapacitated, emergency personnel can identify you.”

Like.

That was the best, most brutal “So you’re a frickin’ idiot, have a good day,” comment I’d ever seen.

Preach.

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And Now, The Autumn Kittens

Sep. 14th, 2017 07:20 am
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[personal profile] malinaldarose
Yesterday morning, I posted photos of the kittens that were under my ramp in the spring. Here are some photos of the most recent batch that only just moved out Sunday night. There was one black kitten and one grey kitten (after the rejection and death of the other black kitten). I am uncertain if they are the siblings of the Spring Kittens or not; the feral colony is composed mostly of all-black cats.

My first photo of the little black girl:



And my first photo of her brother:



These next photos were all taken on Sunday afternoon, and I think that may be why their mother moved them that night; she saw me come into the yard through the gate rather than from the back door, and I think she took offense.

Sister wants to play:



But Brother is interested in Up:



Look at those tiny little kitten claws!



Raaaaaarrrr!!!



Whut?



Ass over tea kettle:



Brother checks out a leaf:



Awwwwww!



And their mother. You can see why I might not be able to tell if it's the same girl or not.

malinaldarose: (Default)
[personal profile] malinaldarose
These are my Spring Kittens. You may (or may not) recall that there were three little black ones and one little grey one.

The grey:







And the black ones:











And Madame Mama:





They were under my ramp until they were at least a month old, possibly six weeks, then Mama moved them up the street. I still see them occasionally on the porch of the house to which she moved them. The grey one half approached me and Jack a few days ago (he was always the boldest), but then Jack sort of shuffle-jumped (as much as he could do on the leash) and I dragged him on by.

Today's Forgotten English Word

Sep. 13th, 2017 06:09 am
malinaldarose: (delenn_word)
[personal profile] malinaldarose
jeopard: To put in danger; to expose to injury or loss. Jeoparded, exposed to danger. [Rev. John Boag's Imperial Lexicon of the English Language, c. 1850]

(no subject)

Sep. 12th, 2017 09:58 pm
randomdreams: riding up mini slickrock (Default)
[personal profile] randomdreams
We rode at lunch, on a nice 35k route, and while it wasn't by any means the fastest we've ever done it, or any section of it, it was extremely consistent for having a lot of climbs/descents and traffic. Here's my heart rate.
heartrate
There are two low blips where we stopped for stoplights, and a high point where my heart got up to 185 or so, but the rest is a nice solid consistent 160-ish, the rate I can maintain for an hour without throwing up.
It was also quite warm today, just about body temp.
The result was that when we got back, everyone showered and ate and then we had a staff meeting and at the end of the staff meeting, when the department manager stood up and said "thanks, everyone", and the rest of us all stood up, I promptly put my back against a wall and slid down it to a seated position, my manager fell over and landed halfway in a chair, and the other manager, who had been drafting me, just had to sit right back down and put his head down on the table.

So it's not just me.

Department manager was all "what are you guys DOING out there?"

(no subject)

Sep. 12th, 2017 06:40 pm
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[personal profile] randomdreams
I was just standing at the gas station a few minutes ago, waiting for the pump to finish, and someone talking on the phone made a wide turn and smashed into the adjacent gas pump. Boy did that make an amazing sound. No major damage or fires, though.

Echoing in my head

Sep. 11th, 2017 10:14 am
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[personal profile] grail76
While I was in college,Read more... )
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