Product 'Placement'

I'm here to *ahem* advertise a towel. No? Who'd pay me? Why would I? Well, here's the deal: it's a nicely multipurpose towel, and here's why....

a) The towel is handy for any mutant fight, be it a physical tussle or mental:

    i) For a physical tussle, the thick fibres of this Turkish towel withstand any amount of force -- pulling or flinging -- which is within 1750 Newtons.

    ii) For a mental battle, draping this towel like a shawl over your shoulders exudes considerable amounts of charisma, wit, and logic.

b) The towel protects you from mishappenings or confrontational events: Whenever faced with a situation, cover your head with the towel, such that your whole face is covered. Since your brain does not register what it does not (and cannot) see, you will be safe.

c) This particular towel is, if you noticed, slightly thicker on the edges. The reason this is so is because there are health capsules and drinks hidden around the perimeter, and each serves a different purpose. All you have to do is gnaw it off at the right spot (explained in detail in the manual).

d) The material is soft and fun and does not tickle, so there is no reason why you shouldn't have it.

(No guinea pigs or humans were harmed in the making of this towel. All said they enjoyed the experience.)

Happy Towel Day to anybody who cares and/or understands. (I'm a day too late.)

DON'T PANIC.


The post is dedicated to Douglas Adams.

Monoblogue

Post me.


Oh, PLEASE post me. No, really.

I'm missing it. I'm missing the fame, I'm missing the lights, the show, the drama, the surprises... I'm missing everything.

It's been what, two days since this absolute fool of a woman - who thinks she's very smart in the first place - posted me, and after some really long (but not tedious, mind you) debates and discussions with dear ol' Blogger, I have finally decided to post myself.

It was getting too much, you know? And it's not that I'm an attention seeker or anything, but... You know what I mean. *obvious nods*

Just look at me. My beautiful beige body. My flashy fonts, my countless and colourful colours!


I am beauty defined! I am skill personified! I am the Halt Ahead of Turbulence itself!




And now come the long awaited Random Musings of my Lost Soul:


Polyvinylchloride.

Temporary disorder of the intestines can lead to stray misconceptions, ego clashes, and thermionic emission.

Fleeting woodpeckers give dirty glances to passers-by solely due to the movement of tectonic plates. Peck.

And finally, randomness isn't really as nonsensical and random as it appears, given that it's random; almost how an inexpert dancer decapitates himself on an inert garlic bread.

Go figure.

Geavanceerde? Yo? Ce n'est pas possible...

There has been a tiny option on the Google page that I've been using for far too long. Next to the search bar, there's 'Advanced search' in minuscule font, as if it wants to be missed. Shoddy.

Now, the reason I do this is to get an idea of the complexity of language I use for my blog.

This is what it gives me:

(I hate this going into the sidebar. --->)

This means almost all the people who read (and understand) my blog are smarty-pants (language-wise, at least).

Also, notice that site called 'Turbulence Ahead' at the bottom?

I should have rechecked thoroughly before naming...

Anyway...

I better start raking in more 'basic'. An alternative good way to have begun this post:

'There has been a small option on the Google page that I have been utilising for a very long time. It's just next to the search bar, in absurdly tiny font so as to make the average eyes skip over it completely.'

Oh, wait...

PS: I understand this is option is for all the results bearing these three words, but it's just a qualitative, fun review of what it could be had I not known what it really shows.

A Series of Failed Occupations: Careers That Never Took Off (Part Three)

PART THREE: Archaeologist

Expectations

The regular kid won't really prefer to go for archaeology. But that doesn't mean only a history buff will. Anyone who's obsessed with finding out 'secrets' about the past and discovering new things could well like it. (Did that just sound like a bunch of teenage girls?)

Anyway, at any age, here are archaeology's expectations:

The dinosaur remains is the ultimate dream.

Realistic Expectations

By this time, out prodigy has discovered that this isn't as simple as it appears. It requires top grades, tons of skill, and horrendously tough endurance. So he resigns himself to:

The fact that a job like this may not exist shows the youngster's motivation and desperation to get into the field.

Motivation

There's the exciting prospect of adventure never experienced before. It's not the money here; it's the inviting lure of nature's innards. The fame that may (should) go with it is another piece altogether, but nothing beats the thrill of a hot desert sun. (For some reason, it's always a hot desert sun. Never a pleasant autumn.)

What Does It

Now, our protege has become old enough to be adept with computers. He learns that the job requirements do not exactly fill his criteria, meaning he would most likely be ending up as a:

curator

professor

Yeah, that does it.

Dream Crash-Landed In...

An upper limit of ten years.

Last Resort

Convince yourself that dinosaurs are eggheads anyway; who'd want to be excited looking for a peripherally dumb mutant who couldn't even foresee an asteroid?


Verdict: Makes you get down in the dirt and enjoy it too!

(Read Part One: Astronaut

Read Part Two: Artist)