If Santa has a harder time than usual getting down your chimney this Christmas, this might be why.
Gerard Krokus, an experienced skydiver, was helping Santa deliver the Elf named Kristoff to a nine-year-old girl while flying in toys to the Beach Bums Operation Santa Charity Volleyball Tournament on Saturday.
In the video you can see Krokus with a parachute above him coming in to deliver the toys, before his speed picks up and he crashes into a tree and a light pole near the sand volleyball courts.
I guess this woman is really into body modification, i.e. adding and subtracting things from her body just for fun. She’s even had her tongue surgically split. Yeesh! So she thought tattooing the sclera of her eyeball was the next big thing she should try.
The problem was she didn’t realize how risky it would be, and that not everybody should be allowed near her eyeball with a needle. Allow this sentence to run through your head for a moment.
It was deduced that the artist had made a series of mistakes, including over-injecting her eye, failing to dilute the ink with saline, using a needle that was too big and going too deep into the eye.
Those are some big mistakes that could prove rather costly. At best, she could have vision problems for the rest of her life. At worst, they might have to remove the eye because the ink could start an inexorable march toward her brain. Yeah, this sounds like a good idea!
*shiver*. There are people who need injections in their eyes for medical reasons. I cannot understand why someone would voluntarily go for them just to make their eyes look different or something. And, if you did, for the love of Pete, pick someone who knows what they’re doing!
Every time I write one of these, there’s a tiny voice that wonders if some day I’ll do something that warrants one of these posts to be written about me. I guess if it happens, I’ll deserve it. Until then, I’ll shiver at the thought of what people will do to their bodies just for looks. Eek.
I know in the grand scheme of things Kinder Surprise eggs are pretty small, but you know what’s even smaller? Your exit hatch. So the fact that now current Ottawa-Carleton Detention Centre resident Damian O’Reilly seems to have set an unofficial record by managing to fit eight of them into his is, in its own way, almost as impressive as it is stupid.
O’Reilly figured the quickest way to get arrested would be to throw a rock at a police cruiser in front of the courthouse and, sure enough, he got the job done in minutes flat. It helped that he was already on probation, so when he was arrested, he was held for bail and shipped off to the old Innes Road jail.
And that’s where his plot unravelled.
It’s not known if the guard noticed O’Reilly was in some discomfort but whatever the reason, the guard had suspicions that O’Reilly might be smuggling drugs. The young inmate was escorted to dry cell No. 9. A dry cell has no plumbing and guards will either attempt to seize the contraband or wait for it to be expelled.
In this case, it was O’Reilly himself who, once alone in the dry cell, removed eight Kinder Surprise eggs from his rectum. A guard had to then collect the eggs and photograph them before securing them inside the Ottawa police drug safe at the jail.
In all, the eight eggs contained 59 grams of marijuana, a gram of MDMA, tobacco, rolling papers and matches.
Earlier reports that O’Reilly *was* the drug safe are erroneous.
by the way, if Drug Safe isn’t his nickname by the time I hit publish on this, there’s something wrong with this world.
Anyway, O’Reilly pleaded guilty to drug trafficking and was sentenced to sit in jail for a year and some change, although standing may be more comfortable for a while.
As for the possible record mentioned above, he doubled it. The previous mark was set by an unidentified man in 2010 who only managed four, the friggin amateur.
Whenever I think about this poor, poor kid, after I can let out my breath, all I can think of are two things. The washing machines in the apartment building are so deep that in order for me to reach the bottom, I have to almost climb in to get everything, so Steve helps me out so I don’t go head over heels into the machine. Second, an old Radio-Free Vestibule sketch that I saw late one night on TV goes through my head. I can’t find it anywhere on the internet, so I’m basically going to have to write it down.
A man walks into a laundromat and is looking around. He flags down a woman, explains that he’s never done laundry in his life and doesn’t know how, asking her for help. She hurriedly tells him the instructions for using the machines are on the inside of the lids and walks off. He opens the lid and reads something like “to do laundry, follow these five easy steps.
1. Put clothes in machine.”
*dumps clothes in machine*
“2. add deturgent.”
“3. Close lid.”
At this point, he is left staring at the closed lid of the washer, realizing the rest of the instructions are on the inside of the lid. He says “uh-oh…” and the sketch ends. It’s much funnier when they do it.
Sadly, what happened in this story would cause us to use much stronger words than “uh-oh.”
One afternoon, Brooke Haney fell asleep while watching her children. One of the toddlers went to play in the washing machine. Check out this little snippet of the story.
The young children in the home told police they were used to helping with the laundry.
The washing machine, which the family used as a dirty clothes hamper, was programmed to switch on when the lid closed. After the clothes were clean, one child would climb into the open machine and pass the wet clothes to another, who would then toss them into the dryer.
Alexis closed the lid — and hot water started to pour in.
Authorities said she died from “scaling and thermal injuries,” according to a probable cause affidavit filed earlier this week in Calhoun County Circuit Court.
There are so many things wrong with that whole thing. Kids that age are doing laundry, they’re doing it like that, and mom is knocked out while this is going on.
I don’t have much else to say except “eek,” and I hope the washing machine doesn’t sing a cute little song when it’s done. That would just give it that extra creepy horror movie factor.
Steve told me about these painful-sounding Victorian Christmas parlor games and after I stopped wincing and covering my face, I started to envision what would happen if somehow, someone of that era could visit current day us, sort of like those old Freedom 55 commercials.
I can see it all now. “You folks are wimps! You bob for apples, and there is no flame? You play Blind Man’s Bluff and don’t set out to trip the blindfolded guy up? You’ve all gone soft I tell you!”
The one that made me scream the most was this one.
Indeed, in the early years of Queen Victoria’s rule, Christmas rivaled Spring Break for sheer bawdiness and self-destruction. Nowhere is this more evident than in the bonkers Victorian parlor game of Snapdragon.
Traditionally played on Christmas Eve, players of Snapdragon must find themselves a broad, shallow bowl, and then prepare to risk their health. Into this bowl should be poured two dozen raisins. If raisins are hard to come by, almonds, grapes or plums will suffice. You should then pour a bottle of brandy into the bowl so that the raisins bob up and down like drowning flies. Place the bowl on a sturdy table, turn the lights down low, and then, with appropriate panache, ignite the brandy.
To play Snapdragon, arrange your family and friends around the blazing bowl so that their faces are lit in a demonic fashion and then, one by one, take turns plunging your hands into the flames in order to try and grab a raisin. If you can accomplish this, promptly extinguish the flaming raisin by popping it into your mouth and eating it.
I read this story of a fellow accidentally spraying bear spray down his own pants, and I started wincing. I can only imagine how bad that must have hurt. I say this for two reasons: 1. because duh, it’s friggin bear spray. If just breathing it in would make a bear run away, then imagine that directly on one’s…sensitive parts. But there’s another reason I know how bad bear spray can be. I nearly walked into a cloud of the stuff a few weeks ago.
Yup, it appears we have a neighbour who is a pretty big chode harmonica. Why, oh why, oh why does this always happen to us? Well, I’m sure he is some kind of arsehole, but it’s his accompanying friends that are making a bunch of the music right now.
One night back a few weeks ago, Tansy started whining, which I thought meant she had to go out. I took her out, and she didn’t do anything, so we came back in. A few minutes later, I couldn’t stop coughing. I was coughing so hard that I thought I might throw up. Sure I was getting over a cold, but it was pretty much gone at this point, so I couldn’t figure out why I was coughing. Steve started coughing too, but we thought maybe his could be attributed to said cold since he was still dealing with it.
Then there came a knock. We opened the door, and there stood a police officer telling us that someone had let off bear spray in the hall, so to open our windows and keep our door closed. As Steve had a short conversation with the officer, a conversation that lasted about 30 seconds, he started to feel his throat, eyes and nose burn, and we realized why we had both been hacking. The little bits of bear spray that had seeped under the door were hurting that much. Now imagine spraying that directly on you. No, I don’t think milk is going to fix it, dude. *shiver*.
What kind of tool sprays bear spray in an apartment hallway? I guess it went up a few floors and they had to bring in machines to clean the air. It’ll be interesting to see how the drama plays out with our newest addition to the chode harmonica symphony orchestra. All I know is I’d like the drama to be over with soon.
A drunk man died after he embraced a giant firecracker called Goodbye Philippines as it was about to explode, health secretary Janet Garin told reporters.
“His jaw was shattered. He was so intoxicated he hugged the Goodbye Philippines,” Ms Garin said, adding the man was pronounced dead at the hospital.
This was just one of many incidents during the annual New Year’s celebrations in the Philippines, which I’m learning are quite the event. According to superstition, it’s necessary to make very loud noises in order to ward off bad luck. So to accomplish this there is much fireworks and random gunfire, so it’s not hard to figure out how things like this happen.
The health department listed 380 injuries due to fireworks and four others due to stray bullets.
In many hospitals across the country, firecracker victims rushed into emergency rooms grimacing in pain as they held their bloodied limbs.
An eight-year-old boy in the northern farming province of Nueva Vizcaya had three of his fingers amputated after a firecracker exploded in his hands, Ms Garin said.
At least nine children had their fingers amputated due to firecracker injuries, she said.
And most of them still probably got off easier than the 3000 plus people who were left homeless after a fireworks accident burned their shanty town to the ground.
All of which leads to the obvious question. Is it time to find a new, less fatality prone superstition or should they try to make more noise next year?
According to the complaint, officers were called Friday evening to a domestic assault on Seventh Avenue South. Upon arrival, officers met with Elrod and her husband.
Officers noted in the criminal complaint that the husband was missing part of his right ear. During a search of the apartment, officers found blood as well as a part of victim’s ear on the floor, the complaint said.
Good god, this must have been serious! Did he cheat on her? Squander their life savings? Beat her up? Try to kill her?
According to the police, the victim and an apparent admission to the crime in a jailhouse phone call, the reason Jamie Elrod’s husband was short half an ear is that she had bitten it off during an argument over beer. No brand of beer was provided, which unfortunately leaves us no way of determining how reasonable her position may have been.
Elrod, who told police at the scene that she had no idea how that happened when confronted with the evidence, was being held on $30000 bond after being charged with first-degree assault.
So the story goes that the owner of this house was gone when 19-year-old Cody Caldwell thought it would be a fine home to burglarize. But he wouldn’t smash a window or break a door, he would come down the chimney! Of course he got stuck, and was probably wondering what he was going to do.
He had lots of time to think about it, as the homeowner didn’t come home until the next day. But it wasn’t until the afternoon when he met his doom. The homeowner put on a fire, with no idea that our friend Cody was in the chimney.
I can’t imagine being the homeowner, having no idea that someone was trying to get in his house, and was trapped in the chimney, and had been there for some time. Upon lighting the fire, his house was filling with smoke, and there was screaming coming from the chimney. He had to call the fire department who dismantled the chimney, but it was too late.
I keep envisioning the scene from one of the darker versions of “Three Little Pigs” where the wolf is in the chimney, and the pigs light the fire on purpose. I never thought I’d hear a real story about that.
A MAN got so drunk at a family gathering he ate a glass beer bottle, NT police say.
Superintendent Louise Jorgensen said police and St John paramedics were called to a Wagaman home just after 9pm on Wednesday.
The 38-year-old man had chewed and swallowed a lot of glass, “and then went for a lie down”.
“His family then called police and St John, and he was taken to Royal Darwin Hospital,” she said.
Royal Darwin Hospital, you say? Fitting, since he seems like the sort who might win an award one day. Remind me not to mess with him in the meantime, though.