SLUT: quote o’ the day!

Seattle Space Needle

Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels said,
I don’t care what you call it as long as you ride it.”

Yes, folks, that’s what we around these parts call a real friendly city.

The Fortress of the Assassins, DESTROYED!

Married To The Sea
marriedtothesea.com

The tragic destruction of the Fortress of Alamut, stronghold of the Assassins, expressed as a charming historical engraving/ironically juxtaposed caption mashup, for your viewing pleasure.

Background, from DamnInteresting:

The story of the Hashshashin, or Assassins, is cloaked in mystery, and much of the truth about them was long ago lost to war and time. Their influence, however, changed the course of history and spawned the very word we use today to describe calculated, politically-motivated murder.

The Hashshashin were formed by Hassan-i-Sabah, a follower of the Isma’ili sect of Shi’ite Islam. Hassan left his home in Cairo over a succession dispute between two heirs to the Fatimid Caliphate. After choosing the wrong heir to support, Hassan found himself escaping to Persia after spending a short period in a political prison. Determined to avenge himself upon the Fatimids while also wiping out his traditional Sunni enemies, Hassan sought and found the ideal stronghold: the fortress of Alamut, also known as “The Eagle’s Nest.” Located northwest of Tehran, just south of the Caspian Sea, Alamut was an imposing sight. Nestled atop a 2,100m mountain with only one near-vertical approach to the fortress, the Eagle’s Nest was nearly impregnable.

Nearly.

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my dream house: the floorplan

It should be Lambos, not Ferraris, but otherwise this sounds pretty good. The only problem is, it seems to give everyone pretty much the same result.

From Nag on the Lake, via Mastercowfish.

Your home is a

Rough Muse’s Mansion

Your kitchen is only used when the weather won’t permit barbecuing. There’s a pantry stocked with beef jerky. Oh, and deer jerky. Your master bedroom has a bedside table with a pad for writing down late-night inspirations. Your study has a locked plexiglass gun case filled with stuff that would make the A-Team jealous. And Al Qaeda. One of your garages holds your collection of ferraris, and is measured in acreage.Your home also includes a gallery of your favorite works — the originals, of course. Your guests enjoy your animatronic replica of the cantina at Mos Eisley. Outside is your hedge maze and gardens, meticulously tended by a team of world-class botanists.Below is a snippet of the blueprints:

Find YOUR Dream House!

Eel City, a wriggle on the wild side

So Judy was here visiting. It was easy to tell it was Judy when she walked into the train station, because there is, in my wide experience (and surely, few experiencers can have had a wider one, what with me having met in meatspace something over 100 people whom I first met online) a certain expression that people have when they’re away from home and meeting up for the first time with some other cybernaut who, come to think of it and they do and BOY do they look worried when they realize this, they haven’t the faintest idea what they look like. And likewise.

MoosehatSo, I was looking for a tall American brunette, and she was looking for a short Canadian blonde with a Moosehat sticker from the Northern Voice blogging conference, and although we are not exactly a dime a dozen, even in the train station, nevertheless the situation is enough to give one pause.

She paused.

With that certain look on her face. That alright now I can figure this out. I can handle this. If she turns out to be a freak there are plenty of people around who can call the cops, and I can always get another train back home look.

And I tried not to have my oh, I’ve seen that look before, newbie look on my face although it must be said that of all the emotions, smugness comes perhaps most easily to me, even when it’s not appropriate, but then when has the fear of looking like a idjut ever stopped me, eh? I ask yez.

And we had a lovely time. I made sure to take her by the library and Canada Place and the Marine building and other suchlike architectural wonders, of which it must be said that Vancouver has very few but as long as nobody tells her different and who’s to do that, she’ll never know the place isn’t larded with gems, eh?

And we went patio-ing. Yes, it’s a verb here. We do a lot of patioing in BC, although we also do a lot of other social things, too, which you can tell from the fact that Whistler has its own strain of genital warts, but we didn’t do any of that.

Especially not on the patio. Hell, it wasn’t the Cambie!

But as we were on the patio, enjoying our refreshing beverages and making amusing comments about some kind of corporate teambuilding exercise which apparently involved vast herds of nerdy-looking men in matching t-shirts running at speed back and forth through the restaurant, it became apparent that Judy was working up her courage. Finally, after an internal struggle and a moment of distracted yet anticipatory silence, it came out.

“So…what is it with you and squid?”

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okay, um…?

Flying Barn

Don’t look at me. I dunno.
But ain’t no way I’m going in there and milking those cows.

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