Tastes Like Chicken


Friday, June 07, 2002
_Naughty Pixel's Accidental Video Game Porn Archive
From 8-bit classics to Metal Gear Solid 2, it's in there.

So to speak.

_How to tell when it's time to lighten up about your classes
During her first year at Princeton, says Pierce, “I stopped sleeping. I got so tired that I couldn’t eat any more. I was too exhausted to have the motivation to eat. I lived in the infirmary for quite a while. At the same time I was having trouble being with a roommate. I realized that I needed privacy if I was going to be able to work as hard as I wanted to.

“There was one semester sophomore year where I was staying up all night three nights a week. I really felt ill all the time. I had that much work and I had it every week. I spent the first three years here feeling horrible, to the point where I couldn’t walk anymore. It was pretty awful actually. And my hand hurt from writing because sometimes I had to write 40 pages of math out in one night. It was painful even to keep using the pencil.

Despite her exhaustion, she says, when she realized that she was “so close to being a good candidate for a Rhodes, I felt like I couldn’t stop.” The moment she found out that she had indeed been chosen as a Rhodes Scholar, “I felt I hadn’t relaxed in about a decade.

“At some point I became addicted to working. Junior year when I went home for Christmas vacation, I realized that I felt so disconnected from people, I felt weird being around my family members. And that was horrifying. I was very careful the next semester not to let myself get that involved in math. I think math can be very addictive.”
....right.... Good thing Mom was there to encourage balance in her life: “I’m not sure it’s really advisable to work as hard as she does.” Gee, there's no slipping anything past you, is there, Mom?

But everything is totally cleared up and healthy now: "Pierce is finally getting some rest in her senior year, sleeping about five hours a night." yeesh.

_How to tell when it's time to move to a new city
When you're so damned afraid of your neighbors that you only travel by helicopter between your walled fortress home, your walled off office and your machine-gun gaurded shopping center, it's time for a change.

Wednesday, June 05, 2002
_Butt cleavage fashion -- not just for plumbers anymore
A trend pointed to on these pages over a year ago, appreciatively. Have I mentioned (today) how happy I am that this look displaced the baggies?

_So that's what BSD has on Linux



That's Ceren Ercen, genuine geek babe.

Too. Many. Jokes . . . uptime, POST, rack mount, tail...
via flutterby

Update: That naughty girl's got more photos posted.

_Everything but the Gerbil
Talking to emergency room doctors to get the low down on people putting things down low.
In a 1986 Surgery magazine report, Drs. David B. Busch and James R. Starling tabulated the RFO's that had been referenced in scholarly works. They found 182 cases. According to their research, the most popular object to emerge was a bottle, cleaning up with thirty-three entries (one with attached rope). Running a respectable second were vibrators, at twenty-three mentions, followed by the vibrator's cousin, the dildo, with fifteen. The last object to achieve double-digit status was the stick/broom handle, with a perfect ten. The remaining melange included virtually everything except a rodent (the gerbil story, according to the journals, is, in fact, myth): a frozen pig's tail, a kangaroo tumor, pool cue ball, snuff box, and a variety of fruits and vegetables, including a plantain (with condom). Perhaps Mark Twain said it best: "Man is the only animal who blushes. Or needs to."
The rules: the doctor will have to discover what's wrong because they will never tell you, it was always an accident, and they may very well flee as soon as the object is out.

_Japanese High School Prostitutes on the Prowl
This article makes it sound like Japanese high schoolers are jumping at the chance to sell sex, and they don't sound terribly worked up about it, either.
"These girls don't go to school and just hang around on the streets all day waiting for some guy to come along and pick them up. Some are pretty enough to be models and they know it. They're famous for milking customers dry ... when it comes to how much they expect to be paid for their services," the adult industry writer tells Shukan Taishu.

The girls selling themselves don't deny it.

"Now's the only time we can do this," a schoolgirl prostitute in Shibuya tells Shukan Taishu. "You only sell while you're a high schoolgirl. Join university and the bottom falls out of the market."

That market usually entails a basic market fee of 50,000 yen, but additional services can be provided for a price.

"Just putting an ad up on a personals site is guaranteed to get results. I've met weirdoes, like the guy who said he'd give me 3,000 yen extra for spitting on him, and the other bloke who paid 5,000 yen just so he could have me stamp on his old feller," the girl says.
It doesn't exactly sound innocent, but you start to think that maybe it's just different in a country that wasn't founded by Puritans... then you get to the part about grade schoolers getting into the act and it gets a lot harder to rationalize.

_Storm clouds over Willacy County, Texas



If that's photoshopped, then let my ignorance remain blissful.

Tuesday, June 04, 2002
_Tastes Like... Finger
A woman in northern Japan bit into a rice ball she bought at a convenience store and got a gruesome surprise: a fingertip.

The woman spit out a mouthful of her Korean bibimbap-flavored snack after she tasted something unusual and discovered a half-inch slice of human finger, said Takashi Fujii, a spokesman for the convenience store Lawsons.

Police later determined the severed digit belonged to an employee of food company Nihon Fresh Delica who accidentally cut his finger while making rice balls.



_


_Seriously mean video out-takes
Orson Welles piss drunk and slurring his way through the filming of a wine ad, an incoherent Anna Nicole Smith, an unblinkingly merciless compendioum of the worst Star Search auditions, and video of pathetic group therapy breakdowns. Rarely does one page so completely synthesize everything right about the internet and wrong with humanity (including us viewers).

I think I need a shower.

_Don't eat -- live forever
Eat just enough to stave off starvation and you'll get years and years more time to torture yourself with hunger and chronic cold, when you're really old.

Is there a catch?

_Car wash style spray-on tan
''Assume the ballerina position,'' he says, making an oval with his arms above his head. He explains that the mister will mist for eight seconds, after which I should ''turn into Charlie's Angels.'' He demonstrates by jutting one foot in front of the other and holding his arms out straight as if gripping a revolver. Wait for the mist. Turn. Strike ballerina pose. Turn. Pretend you're Farrah Fawcett.

He turns and leaves. I lock the door behind him and peer into the misting booth. I strip to the hum of the machinery. I swipe my face and underarms with the ''pre-tan conditioner'' and choose the heart sticker. I step inside the booth and see a plastic-coated checklist, which I race through. Removed jewelry? Check. Covered my hair? Check. Creamed my hands and feet? No! I jump back out, slather it on, and jump back in, afraid to press the blinking green button.

I assume the ballerina position, standing in the middle of the booth on what feels like a pot scouring pad. I close my eyes and hold my breath.

When the mister hits, it's cold and damp, and the shock makes me laugh. Then I remember my face should remain still to allow for even coverage. After eight seconds, the mister, which projects sunless tanning lotion through a spraying arm that rolls across the booth, stops. I turn one-quarter of the way around and point that invisible gun, legs posed like those in an Egyptian tomb painting. When the process is finished, I step out and look in the full-length mirror.
Click through to find out how it went.

_Socks For The Well Heeled
Finally, you learn that the rich, having more possessions, require more
pockets in their pants. That's why Kiton trousers come with "a hidden pocket
that is accessible only through the fly."

It's important to remember that last fact. Next time you see some rich guy
standing on a street corner and reaching into his fly, you won't think he's
a pervert. You'll understand that he's simply accessing his hidden pocket,
perhaps to take out a fresh pair of $400 Mongolian goat socks.