Though not quite to the extent, it would not be unreasonable for me to say that the comic above is sometimes an accurate representation of me and Matt, interchangeably. That’s my fault for getting him The Orange Box and my fault for finding an excuse to own a Wii, DS, 360, PS2 and loaner PS3. It’s just too bad that we can’t play nicely together, the way a good couple should. (via thedailywhat)
On the night of November 2, 2005, Richard Adjei hopped on a subway train in downtown Toronto. Slung over his shoulder was his faded black canvas bag on a thick black drawstring. No one ever really knew what was in it, but everyone was sure of one thing: his trumpet was almost always there.
After his college classes finished, Richard was on his way to music practice with the Royal Regiment Band of Canada. He had been a member for a handful of years, and had his high school music teacher, Nathan Haynes, to thank for the recommendation to the military band.
Richard was last seen on a platform at Osgoode subway station by two strangers: one on the subway platform and the driver of the subway train pulling into the station the way he would on any other night.
But there was no way the driver would have known what Richard was thinking or what Richard was going to do.
As the train sped through the tunnel, 22-year-old Richard Adjei consciously set down his bag and jumped in the train’s path.
On the platform, on a nearby bench, lay his canvas bag, his trumpet inside.
Halloween calls for a true ghost story. Whether or not you believe in ghosts, there’s no denying that some strange occurrences are void of logical explanation. Here is the tale of my close encounter with the ghoulish kind.
If you’re a buffoon, please don’t try to make me laugh. Epic fail will ensue and I will tell you why.
After exerting monumental effort to bite my tongue while watching The Ugly Truth (“men like tits and ass!” “women are controlling bitches!” “here’s a visual vibrator gag that will make everyone laugh because no one except the audience will know she’s havng an orgasm, ha ha, we’re so clever!”), I almost went home with memories of the horrible movie haunting me when my friends began flipping through the channels and came across The Impossible Kid.
I’d like to draw your attention to the plot synopsis on IMDB, paying particular attention to what’s underlined:
Weng Weng is now working for the Manila branch of Interpol. The Chief sends him in the pursuit of Mr X, an arch villian with a white sock on his head, who is holding the Philippines to ransom. Two businessmen, Maolo and Simeon, pay the demands but Weng Weng suspects foul play and goes deep undercover to reveal the identity of Mr X.
There’s an amazing chase scene in which the James Bond-esque two-foot-nine-tall Weng Weng as Agent 00 effortlessly evades a huge muscle car on the highway, finds himself at the edge of a cliff (of course), then watching the most spectacular visual effects that 1982 had to offer as he drives his motorcycle off the cliff and lands easily across the chasm without kicking up so much as a cloud of dust. It could not have been more perfect.
Does it get better? If you consider that The Impossible Kid is actually a sequel to the 1981 film For Y’ur Height Only (see video above), then yes, oh god, yes. It is exponentially better.
My friend Kevin on how his relationship with his long-time boyfriend is the exact opposite of this.
1 week ago
Snapped at the Butchart Gardens in Victoria, B.C., September 2007. I’ve been sorting through old vacation photos in an effort to figure out which ones would look best printed and framed on our too-bare walls.
This was also the day I discovered that my little point-and-shoot camera could do things with colour. And even though I later found out that I could just as easily do something similar on Photoshop (which I only use for resizing images since that’s all I really know what to do with it), I still love this photo. It also helps to have a pretty awesome boyfriend who’s willing to pose with a bunch of girly flowers.
This video of sand animation had already reached two million views when I saw it about a month ago and I didn’t post it because I figured it had made the rounds on the internets. But everyone I’ve shared it with has experienced it for the first time and been equally entranced with it as I was—and still am.
Then I realized that it doesn’t matter how old this clip is or whether it’s already been seen. I’ve watched it no less than a dozen times and it mesmerizes me each time, casting a sensory spell that makes me feel like I’m floating as I watch this live masterpiece unfold. It’s truly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Don’t let the eight-minute length daunt you and you will be rewarded. Trust me.
One commenter’s reaction to the French fry-coated hot dog posted on BoingBoing, pictured below:
