Friday Ephemera (812)
The cabinets, in fairness, were fully transformed. || Engine trouble. || Timesaver. || Moves in sync with your, er, pedalling motion. || More than is strictly necessary. || The machine uprising, day 13. || Drivers, look away now. || Not reading the room. || Merry England. || Mouth and trousers. || How all women walk down corridors. || And then he deployed the wiper fluid. || Where to be at a concert. (h/t, Things) || Super Snack Busy. || Ballpoint. || Parklife. || Triplets, Sellotape, and scientific parenting. || I’m impressed by the size. || Prosthesis. || Pleasing the customer. || For when you want to play Pong, but really, really slowly. || Men Who Churn Out Romantic Novels, 1970. || Newcomerliness. || The super-deadly soap stairs. || A game about flinging. || First day. || And finally, some nimble fingering.
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The corporate de-motivation experience. Please tell me this is satire.
A gimmick for cyclists who spend $3000 on special cycling clothing?
I don’t recall any of the names, but long ago I heard about a number of sf writers who, under various pseudonyms, also churned out romances, porn, mysteries, and generic pulp.
At home.
Pry the hands loose or leave them as an object lesson?
Seems . . . risky.
I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.
Sorting mechanism.