7-17: felony fun for the whole family!

You’ll shoot your eye out with that!

Seven to seventeen!

Let’s all celebrate the birth of the Babby Jebus with happy volleys from our brand new weapons! Maybe we’ll make CNN  like those trigger-happy Middle Easterners!

Actually, I’m relatively sure that even in Canada you don’t get 7-17 for anything less than manslaughter, though, and possession of a bb gun would be more like “laughed out of the legion” when it comes to punishment. Okay, so I’m still bitter I never got one of these…

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sumo-screamin’ smackdown!

If you’ve ever made pathetic “he’s got a good set of lungs!” excuses for your unstoppably-squalling infant, you’ll enjoy this: Japanprobe reports on the annual Baby-Cry Sumo Contest.

Too late to enter for this year, but should you be currently pregnant and your gene pool blessed with good lungs and bad tempers, you might want to put the fetoid down for next year’s contest.

Sumo Screamin' Babies!

OMFG, that guy’s legpit has a double chin. What do you have to do to get the grownups to put some pants on?

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finger cymbals too loud? problem solved: crocheted zill covers

UPDATE: “Fans” tag added. Click through to the comments for a classic example of the pathology.

zills, yo, nekkid as God and Allah intended 

From the department of WTF comes these step-by-step instructions for making your own finger cymbal covers for the pampered, crocheting bellydancer that lives deep in your soul.

Now, it may surprise you to know that I have bellydanced; I would not characterize myself as a bellydancer any more than as a toothbrusher, but I’m better than a beginner even if that damn reverse camel still throws my back out (and I defy anyone to maintain a good seat on a reversing camel without damaging one vertebra, or at least snapping the elastic on it).

And I have zills. From Saudi Arabia. Smuggled in my mother’s luggage (I wish I could claim it was sewn into the lining of her fur coat, but what the hell would she be doing in Riyadh in a fur coat unless it was protecting herself from the omnipresent aggressive, Antarctic airconditioning, or even perhaps wrapped in her silken unmentionables, but my mother, glam though her latter years were, preferred unmentionables of practical and sturdy 100% cotton or sometimes even nylon, and all the colours of the beige Canadian rainbow, so yeah, maybe wrapped in a pair of buttercup yellow size L granny panties, woohoo, James Bond eat your heart out) or was it in a box marked “Sand” so the customs inspectors didn’t open it up? Yeah, either they have very stupid export customs inspectors in Saudi Arabia or the CIA is using “Sand” as a code word, and given the company my mother kept in Riyadh, I’m betting the latter and the customs inspectors have been told to lay off.

Zills. It’s a blog post about zill covers.

In any case, whether you’re a bellydancer or not, good or bad, the first thing you notice about zills is: they make a lot of noise.

It’s sort of what they’re for.

So we at the ol’ raincoaster blog were somewhat nonplussed and even subtractussed to see instructions for crocheting home-made zill mufflers, it being said that, lo, they were like, so way noisy.

Or maybe that’s just me.

the zill covers, back viewIn any case, the covers themselves are pretty enough, and in a nice, sparkly yarn might even add a tantalizing “you can glimpse the zill, but you cannot touch it” piquance to the zill-dancing experience, or perhaps that is only for those who identify too closely with inanimate brass objects, not that we know anyone like that around here.

the zill covers, front viewIn any case, the zills generally sound quite pretty even if you don’t know what you’re doing. We at the ol’ raincoaster blog can only pray that this twisted genius turns her attention next to something of more practical utility, such as:

  • violin mufflers
  • clarinet covers
  • accordion muffs
  • cymbal socks

Your suggestions?

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cowboy vs ninja: the victory is clear

Yep. I’ll be by to pick up my winnings from all you cowboy-favoring losers out there.

It seems, from a casual surf around YouTube, that they do these kinds of trials all the time.

And the gun always loses.

The ninjas advance to the second round, where they will face this year’s dark horse: Spartans. Place your bets with the tellers now, ladies and gentlemen.

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Mooseball!!!

See, North Americans love soccer too! We just play it differently.

The funniest thing about this video is the way the moose gets so pissed off when the ball gets caught in a shrub. You just know that as he stomped away he was cursing that shrub and muttering moorosely.
via Defamer, the Hollywood Gossip site. And no, I don’t know why they went with this when they could have posted Helen Mirren reading lines from Borat, but oh well.

Webjunk, from whence Defamer stole it, has helpfully provided a translation of the anguished dog’s commentary.

“You are ruining my life. Stop it stop it!!! Why? This is all I have. Oh sh*t, dude you are stepping on my tail. Oh – that’s better. Hey Moose, stop. Please, that has my scent on it. Make him stop, I will never leave it outside again. Kill me. Kill me. Why?”

That said, we are huge dog lovers (no, we are not Korean) and we find this hilarious. Is it because the pain is so real?

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