predictmynextmeal

I think this tumblr is headed in a good direction.

(from Dogs-looking-like-people)

Twiumblerter is humming along great.

If you didn’t know from using it, its a neat twitter mashup where you blog something, and you get a tweet delivered to your phone, which wakes you up at 3 in the morning with something incomprehensible.

You try to read it through your strained vision, the buzz you had when creating it - all the possibilities! - long forgotten.

Twmblertr

 A mashup I Ruby on Rail’d with PFP2.4

Anon, ps4fans.net

A new study of World of Warcraft players shows that gamers are less violent that Normal People. The study, by the Research Institute of Finland, found that gamers are less likely to respond violently to provocation (such as punching, kicking, various forms of genital mutilation) than Normal People. 

The study took place over several hours at R.I.F., and included players being assaulted in the back of the head.

Bloody hell! Where do I bloody start!?

 Let’s see, I drove my unregistered car through a parking lot in the central city, and some nutburger rear-ended me! I got out, and here’s how the situation went down!

ME: What the bloody hells going on here!

THE OTHER GUY: Oh bloody hell! What did you do to my car! YOU CUNT

ME: Now now, lets just let the insurance agencies sort this o …

It was midway through this sentence that:

1. My haphazardly drifting eyes somehow focussed on his mangled car, a late model Touareg;
2. I realized that I wasn’t insured; that my car was unwarranted; that my car was unregistered; that my car had 3 bald tires and a flat spare; and that I was drunk.

I coughed, and I tasted bitter bile on my tongue. My vision was blurry and I felt nauseous as I tried to regain focus.

I turned and sprinted toward my car. On the way I connected with the Touareg’s wing mirror, which snapped off. I crumpled into my car and flattened the accelerator, squealing out onto the street. I looked back through the rear view mirror at the rapidly disappearing view of my victim.

At home a freezing cold wind battered me as I slowly climbed out of my car. My shaking hands struggled to manipulate the door key in the required syle to necessitate the opening of the front security structure (I couldn’t open the door).

The rain outside was spitting harshly at my lounge window. The bitter chill of the room clung to my body. What had happened back there? It hadn’t even been my fault. But since I’d driven away, I’d be in trouble anyway. How would he find out who I am? My license plates. He would certainly have remembered those; he’d tell the police and they’ll find me within days. I could have sorted it out there but instead I just made it worse.

 I slowly pulled the mechanism on the pistol back until it clicked, pointed it into my temple and pulled the trig