Directions of Product (Dollar Store Engrish)

Here's a dollar I won't get back:


The front.


The back.


The kicker.

For the record - and the search engines - these are "YIN'ER BEST CLEANERS CLEANING SPONGES," and the back of the packaging reads as follows:

"
DIRECTIONS OF PRODUCT

THE PRODUCT IS HIGH SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY CLEANING TOILET ARTIELES OF INTERNATIONALIZATION. THERE ARE CHARACTERISTIC: DECONTAMINATION IS POWERFUL. NO BRUISE. DON'T BE STAINED WITH GREASE, IT IS LIKED BY HOUSEWIFES OF THE LLNITED STATES OF AMERICA, JAPAN, THE SOVIET UNION, ITALY ALL THE WORLD.

USE: THE PRODUET IS USED TO WIPE ICEBOX, WASHING MACHINE, ALUMINUM PRODUETS, PLASTICS PRODUCTS, PORCELAIN, GLASS WARE, STAINLESS STEEL PRODUCTS, CLEANING IS EASY.

POINTS OF ATTENTION: BE USED TO RINDS OF SURFACE ROUGH WARE, TOILET STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

"

...and I quote. The dollar spent? Totally worth it!

Simple Neon Arrow

In the course of graphically designing a web page for a new night club that will be opening in Canton, I required an image of a neon sign in the shape of an arrow. After perusing the Google image gallery and finding nothing quite to task I decided to try modeling it in 3d.

I found a very concise tutorial, exactly suited to my level of experience within Blender and, augmenting it a touch here and there to better meet my mind's eye's beholding, put the effort to bed in under an hour.

The result:




...Simple but photo-realistic and exactly what I needed. Note that I made the curve 3-dimensional so as to twist the glass tube toward the backing piece. I think that little detail is what sells the image.

Mosquito in Profile

Late last night I felt a mosquito alight upon my exposed hand - the only portion of skin not hidden beneath quilt or pillow - and work his muzzle deep down into the dermis for a warm draft. And I'm fine with that. Hey, that's what I'm here for! I'm really just a walking, talking, 44oz, blood-flavored Big Gulp, and I accept that fate. I'm not going to spend my whole life begrudging an entire genus of plasma seekers their daily bread, but for the instant of mildest discomfort necessarily associated with the work. Just keep off the face, alright?

As I say, I could feel the rustle and occasional pinch of a mosquito making hay atop my right hand as I lay waiting for sleep. But as time wore on the sensation of being bit, usually a solitary event followed by acute stillness, repeated and increased in frequency. Eventually I lifted my head from the pillow and turned to address my hapless nurse who couldn't find the vein, readying a stern lecture on the evils of taking advantage of others' kindnesses. But what do I find here? Two mosquitos! Side by side, working their little noses into the fleshy buffet of my skin in unison; bearing all the aspect of a two-man team alternately humping away at a hand-pumped railroad car.

Two o'clock in the morning, or no: this was worth a photograph. Carefully I drew back the quilt and sheets and carefully I lifted my hand from the surface of the bed. And to my drinkers' merits they did not stir as I negotiated my camera.

But shooting photos in the dark - and one-handed nonetheless - takes some dialing-in; in the process of which one of my small companions filled his belly to the brim with blood and flitted off in gourmand satisfaction, leaving me but one prima donna to preen in the impromptu shoot.



See the blood reddening his belly? That's me!

Vanity

I'm going to sell prints of this.

Rutting Season

I give you the text of my latest personals ad:

"
I'm a newcomer to Detroit as of the 1st of this July. I moved here from forty miles north, in Clarkston, with the purpose of being closer to the Detroit Zen Center in Hamtramck. I now live so close to the Zen Center that I can bike there; and I do, on occasion.

I prefer biking to driving, so when I've the option you'll find me at the pedals. I've so far mapped a fair strip of the city - mainly that surrounding Woodward - ridden on bicycle. I've chased fireworks down Trumbull; I've sat fountain-side at Campus Martius park; I've turned a mile or three of the river walk; and I've made the grueling trek all the way out to Belle Isle and back (near twenty miles round-trip) twice, pausing of course to swim and sun on the beach; all from behind the handlebars.

I'm definitely digging Detroit.

I like to read. I'm currently thigh deep into Charles Dickens' catalogue and enjoying it profusely. Though I'll say there certainly seems to be no shortage of angelically tempered, misused, orphan children dusting round the streets of Dickens' London. Neither is that city found wanting of monastically chaste, ethereally beautiful, doting and devoted sisters, wives, and daughters, in the full ripeness and bloom of youth. But that we should all be so lucky as to find ourselves parent-less urchins wandering the streets and county roads of a Dickensian England.

I play golf regularly. I play disc golf occasionally. (That was last season's sport.) I play the guitar, the drums, and I sing -- all proficiently but not spectacularly. I record and mix music; I post the occasional Youtube video; I work out; I watch Naruto Shippuden and Kyou Kara Maou; I sit at the Zen Center; and I go to 'Space Band' shows.

Brace yourself. I'm going to field some negatives now:

I don't own a television and I don't want one. I'm pleasantly ignorant of the goings-on within the tube and I prefer to stay that way, thank you. I don't listen to the radio, read the papers, or check the Yahoo headlines. As for current events, politics, and public opinion, I've had my fill. I was rather vocal on politics, government, and economic philosophy once. Having tried it I find that I much prefer turning my head and holding my peace.

I don't have a Facebook account, or Twitter, or even a cell phone, and I closed up the Myspace shop long ago. I don't want in on your social network. I don't care how convenient you think it is to be constantly in touch. I, for one, have no desire to be harangued with mindless, idle chatter.

I want to start baking. I want to put a band together. I want to learn Japanese. I want to find a job outside of IT. I want to feel a woman's skin against my lips, nose, and cheek.

If you can help with one or more of these, send self-addressed stamped envelope...
"