Red Mosquito

E.H. Ruddock wrote:

daft twat wrote:Washing machine. Ours kept going back and repeating cycles. Went basic. I told my wife, “This one doesn’t have a timer.” She replied, “Who cares? The last one was a fucking liar anyway.”

We're due for a new one soon, and I think these front loaders are a pain in the ass. I'm hoping to convince my wife of the same and get a larger-bin top loader.

Monkey_Driven wrote:

E.H. Ruddock wrote:

daft twat wrote:Washing machine. Ours kept going back and repeating cycles. Went basic. I told my wife, “This one doesn’t have a timer.” She replied, “Who cares? The last one was a fucking liar anyway.”

We're due for a new one soon, and I think these front loaders are a pain in the ass. I'm hoping to convince my wife of the same and get a larger-bin top loader.

I think I prefer front loaders to top loaders without an agitator. They key is to leave the door open a crack when you don't use it so it can dry out.

I say this after testing out all three kinds when we used cloth diapers.

Monkey_Driven wrote:

wease wrote:You guys used cloth diapers? Wow. Bold move.

For both kids (until they were about 1-1.5)!

bart wrote:fuck the earth, no way in hell i'm dealing with cloth diapers

Rangi Guy wrote:Bunch of Azure course material for an exam I probably should have sat this year...

Dev wrote:

Rangi Guy wrote:Bunch of Azure course material for an exam I probably should have sat this year...

So now you're a hunk and a nerd. Talk about a dream guy.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Peeps wrote:who in their right mind gets their clothes out of the washer and dryer as soon as they are done.

fucking psychos is who