What sort of people would you like to work with? Hmm. Suppose you are the only unmarried man in your office. In Provo, Utah. Yeah, you sort of stick out like a sore thumb, I s'pose. But your work buddies will change all that for you. So happens that decision to be a nice guy and do a photo shoot so that your company could get some sort of free product is gonna change your life, Lance. That's right! They put your picture on a billboard and are vetting dating candidates right now!
I can just imagine the look on Lance's face when he drove by that thing... Well, at least they didn't give out his contact information. They get the applications and then "talk up" the potential dating candidates. Then Lance (maybe) picks up the phone and calls.
Poor Lance. Because at first glance, I was thinking, "What sort of LOSER needs his own billboard in order to get a date?" I have a feeling that Lance is putting in job applications elsewhere on the sly.
If you're mean to a gun-owning Kansas City woman who drives 200 miles from her home to kill you because of your stupid internet comments, no action will be taken against you, and she will go to jail. So if you're going to be nasty online, do it to those "anger-turned-out" types and get yourself a large dog.
OK, seriously, people. This sort of thing is why I blog using a pseudonym. There are some scary people out there!
And WHY do black motorcyclists die at a much higher rate than whites after an accident? One commenter joked that the pavement was racist. But the article is much more circumspect, hypothesizing that it is all EVERYBODY'S fault because black cyclists lack good health insurance, thus making it far more likely that they'll die after impact. Not going to that preventive care checkup makes alllll the difference after your body hits the pavement at 60 mph.
Aaaand finally, check out these rings! I think the eyeball ones are sooo kewl. Only thing is, I have a nickel allergy and I don't really order stuff I'm not sure about. I just got red almost blistery skin because I have a new pair of jeans, and what I couldn't tell when I was trying the stupid thing on is that the button must be made of nickel. Back to sweatpants I go...