Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



links

decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff


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Like my brownhouse:
   probably the trashiest food in the house
Tuesday, August 27 2019
Evidently I was wrong yesterday when I'd feared I was coming down with a cold. I still had an occasional tickle in my throat that I needed to cough to clear, but it was weaker symptom today, and my experience with colds is that if I'm going to get one, the symptoms build from trivial to severe instead of dwindling from trivial to almost-nonexistent.
I had a better-than-usual day at the office, mostly because I was busy for much of the day and I felt like I was doing good work. Best of all, after I got home at the end of the day, there were no Slack messages from Alex queued up for me to read.
This evening Gretchen made a tasty Asian peanut noodle dish, which we ate while watching the first two episodes of a new Showtime series entitled On Becoming A God In Central Florida starring Kirsten Dunst (which I'd recently downloaded, along with the new Taylor Swift album Lover via Bittorrent). My interest in OBAGICF was piqued when I heard that it centered around a cultlike multilevel marketing (MLM) company similar to Amway. As you know, MLM companies were an obsessive interest I'd had during the recent Baltic cruise. But OBAGICF has other things that I love, particularly the campification of white trash culture. It's got it all: the ugly clothes (though this was partly a function of the early-90s historical setting), the unhealthy food, the unnatural beverages, and, of course, the names. Here are a few of those: Krystal, Travis, Cody, and Destinee.
All that wallowing in white trash had Gretchen craving some of the new Stewart's vegan icecream (which both Gretchen and I had independently bought pints of today). That was, after all, probably the trashiest food we had in the house. Both of us decided it was pretty good. Initially, I wasn't particularly excited by the chocolate swirl, but that was all redeemed when I hit the peanut butter layer. Gretchen said that the cashier at the Hurley Stewarts had told her that the flavor was selling very well, and that was before I'd bought my pint.


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