It looks like an expanded version of a series of web videos featuring the same character. (The point of said series was that the guy WAS a superhero, but kind of inept and lazy and utterly full of himself. Kind of like Captain Amazing, but without the corporate sponsors...)
I'm allergic to the sun - I break out in blisters and/or itchy red marks that stay for several days after. I wear 90spf (and YES, I have found that there is a difference in higher SPFs, at least for people as hypersensitive as I am), and joke that I am personally trying to bring ladies' gloves and parasols back into mainstream fashion.
One of the camps where I used to work had a network of purple plastic tubes coming from each maple tree, using gravity to get the sap to a collecting vat. (The purple was allegedly because squirrels can't see it... but really it made the whole grove look like some sort of maple Borg collective.)
I also used to work at an historical society, and one of the things I got to do was tromp around the sugarbush in February, showing the schoolkids and other visitors how to collect sap (in the buckets, poured into bigger buckets, poured into barrels on the sled pulled by draft horses, up to the tub on the uphill side of the evaporator) and make syrup.
The saddest part was when we gave them the blind taste tests, and they chose the corn syrup crap over the real stuff, since they'd never *had* the real stuff, before.
With the number of theme park properties that Cedar Fair owns, I wouldn't be surprised if the exhibit (or portions of it, perhaps) started showing up at places like Cedar Point or Kings Island...
Cheesy movie fight scenes or not, Henry Smalls is a very accomplished kendoka, actually. If you look him up on YouTube, you'll find some pretty badass videos of him in various tournaments.
When I was in college, I wrote Mr. Rogers a letter. I was a student clinician at the time, and I told him how we used him as an example for the wee ones. (I mean, you can't easily tell a four-year-old, "Now, speak slowly and articulate carefully!" But you CAN say, "Use your Mister Rogers speech!" and they will know in an instant what you mean.)
He wrote me back, personally! (I still have that letter framed, on my wall.)
Then, he spoke at my college graduation. Best. Commencement speaker. Ever.
Now, if only they'd make playgrounds for anyone in between the age of "child" and "pensioner"! (Or at least let the rest of us use the ones that exist, now.)
I was in the girls' locker room, having a group violin lesson. (The Diocese really valued the string program...) I was annoyed, because I had to miss the launch - and this was in the day when they were new and exciting, so everything stopped when they happened.
We were in the middle of some silly little piece, when Sister Mary Whatshername came on the PA and asked everyone to pray for the astronauts and their families. My teacher got a weird expression and said that perhaps we ought to return to our classrooms.
I crossed the parking lot to my building, and entered the hallway. The thing that I remember to this day is the *silence*. I mean, when have you EVER been in a school that did not have some kind of ambient noises?
I stood in the hallway, which was echoing only with the faint sounds of televisions playing in every classroom.
My alma mater had a pipe and drum corps, and so I became quite fond of hearing the sound of the pipes calling - from glen to glen and across the parking lots...
I will note, however, that the sound of poorly played and/or out-of-tune bagpipes makes me want to find the culprit and shove the chanter down his/her throat.
I got one of those a few months ago, through Avon, of all things. The chimes are "rung" by a horizontal corkscrew that turns below them, pulling each one back and releasing it, in sequence. The notes go up by half tones, and are actually rather pleasant to wake up to.
The only thing that I wish was better was that when they do hit the bar, the tones are kind of dampened, so they produce more of a *dink* rather than a *ting*... but I still prefer it to a jarring alarm.
I also used to work at an historical society, and one of the things I got to do was tromp around the sugarbush in February, showing the schoolkids and other visitors how to collect sap (in the buckets, poured into bigger buckets, poured into barrels on the sled pulled by draft horses, up to the tub on the uphill side of the evaporator) and make syrup.
The saddest part was when we gave them the blind taste tests, and they chose the corn syrup crap over the real stuff, since they'd never *had* the real stuff, before.
He wrote me back, personally! (I still have that letter framed, on my wall.)
Then, he spoke at my college graduation. Best. Commencement speaker. Ever.
We were in the middle of some silly little piece, when Sister Mary Whatshername came on the PA and asked everyone to pray for the astronauts and their families. My teacher got a weird expression and said that perhaps we ought to return to our classrooms.
I crossed the parking lot to my building, and entered the hallway. The thing that I remember to this day is the *silence*. I mean, when have you EVER been in a school that did not have some kind of ambient noises?
I stood in the hallway, which was echoing only with the faint sounds of televisions playing in every classroom.
I will note, however, that the sound of poorly played and/or out-of-tune bagpipes makes me want to find the culprit and shove the chanter down his/her throat.
The only thing that I wish was better was that when they do hit the bar, the tones are kind of dampened, so they produce more of a *dink* rather than a *ting*... but I still prefer it to a jarring alarm.