This time zone is garbage for a fan of North American sports.
“It’s 10pm! Better sleep soon! Gotta wake up early AND skip work if I want to catch the Super Bowl.”
…
Shall we set aside the world’s other minor problems and fix this colossal one in time for next year? Someone tell me where I can occupy.
Okay so as I don’t have much free time I’m keeping this simple.
- Reblog this post as many times as you like.
- This is open for one week until the 4th Feb 2012.
- I will use a random online generator to choose a winner.
- I will post anywhere in the world that my post office will deliver to.
- I can’t be held responsible if the postal service lose it though.
- I will not do anything with the winners details except send the book.
- I think that’s all… any questions? just message me.
A pretty decent lunch, if I may say so myself.
In the summer of 2004, foreign turned familiar, strangers became friends, and by the end of a short three weeks, I had somehow found the courage to sing this song, solo and a capella, as a heartfelt thank-you.
It’s safe to say I would not be who or where I am without that summer.
I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.
—Robert Browning Hamilton
This is animal cruelty at its most ironic!
Midnight run along Victoria Harbour. Quite frankly, these views make it harder not to be moved. Pun intended.
My office building has two sets of really sad elevators.
When I say sad, I do mean pathetic, but I also mean that if these elevators had feelings, then they would be substantially depressed over how poorly they perform the one task they are relied upon to do.
Now, there are a number of reasons I feel confident enough to make a lofty assumption about what human feelings an inanimate object might have, were it possible, but a brief account of what I witnessed this morning should be sufficient to persuade you.
I arrived a little bit earlier today, so the line-up for an elevator did not yet reach the street. That’s right. By about 9AM every weekday morning, without fail, you will see two separate line-ups peeking out of the two entrances belonging to my office’s building. Why two? Our office has twenty-some floors, split into two halves, three dedicated elevators per half.
Please do not be misled by my use of the word ‘dedicated’ here. Each set of three elevators only service half the building, but ‘service’ in this case must be lightly used to be accurate.
Back to my story, there were only about five people waiting in the lobby this morning when I arrived, including myself. Two were lined-up for the other set. After staring at each other for about five minutes which felt much longer, an elevator from our set (upper half of building) decided to grace us with its presence.
More excited than I should be about the idea of getting into the office (see brother from another mother above), I hopped in. To my surprise, my two staring partners, waiting for the other side, followed suit. They promptly pressed the lowest floor available, exhibiting more confidence in the prospect of taking the stairs down a few levels from there than waiting for a proper elevator from ground.
If you were an elevator, what more would it take for you to finally decide on snapping your cables and meeting your Maker?
—David Thorne
(Source: 27bslash6.com)
