More Flea Market Madness

As I mentioned in the previous post, a bunch of us from my Spanish class went to a flea market a few days ago.

There were all sorts of ridiculous things for sale. David found this wrestler mask that was too small for his hair to fit in it.


I don't even think Steve (left) can see out of that one.




Cole constructed crude visual innuendos with food, garbage and flea market toys.


And Steve... did this.


But Joey bought the most awesome thing in the flea market:



The thing is made awfully flimsily for something that people are going to drop. The screen is now cracked.

The Joy of Canada

Canada is not a fun place to go late on the night of New Year's Eve. Not only are the signs weird,


(CAUTION: Bowling)

...it's also really cold. The night I was there with my mom, it got down to -10°. For all you Imperial Measurement System n00bs, that's 10 or 20 in Fahrenheit.

Speaking of Fahrenheit:

PD: It's supposed to get down to about 1° tonight.
David: 1?! [pause, followed by realisation] Oh, hah.
PD: What?
David: I thought you were just going to comment on the temperature, but then you turned it into a joke. "One degree." Hah.
PD: No joke. Google says it's getting down to one tonight.
David: I heard it was 32, PD. One is awfully low.
PD: 32? Oh! Fahrenheit!
David: Oh, I forgot you use Celsius.
PD: David, have I ever given you the "why Celsuis is better than Fahrenheit" talk?
David: No.
PD: [putting hand on David's shoulder] Well, David, you see, when a man loves a woman...

[five minutes later]

PD: ...And that's why Celsius is better than Fahrenheit.
David: [shuddering from sexual-innuendo overload] But the only time in that whole speech that you mentioned Celsius or Fahrenheit was just now and five minutes ago.

Potatoes

It was my understanding, prior to visiting my mother over Christmas break, that cats are carnivores.

Erm... potato?


Do cats ordinarily eat potatoes?

Wait. Why am I asking you guys what cats do? I'm the one with twelve cats.

Unfortunately, only nine were on the couch for this shot. Two more are behind it, and one is at my feet. Not now, but when I was taking the picture.



Instead of a quote of the day, I give you a conversation of the day:


Conversation of the Day

Stacey: The word "prick" is primarily British.
PD: I've never heard a Brit say "prick."
Stacey: What are you talking about? British people love prick.

Alright, readers, I know you want me to get my act together and start posting regularly, but here's the deal: I'm pretty busy lately. I'll tell you what I'll do: I'm going on blog-holiday for the rest of February. Starting 1 March, I'll give you at least two posts per week, and I may even get Jake to start posting again. How does that sound, masses?

Also, if any of you think you'd be good writers for the blog, email me a sample blog entry or two at MisterPD@gmail.com. If I like your stuff a lot, you may become the third author. If I like it somewhat, I'll post it with your name on it. If I hate it, I'll sign you up for the Ku Klux Klan email newsletter. Ok, maybe not that last bit. Besides, NAMBLA is far more awkward to have in your inbox.

Dane's Mother

Finally, a picture of Dane that doesn't show his face blurred or covered. He was beginning to gain a reputation as the anonymous man.

Anyway, Dane was sitting there in Computer Science when Ian, right next to him, got a text message.







Dane was... unhappy.

¡La Voz de la Gente! (The Voice of the People!)

While standing in line to see the David, a big-ass sculpture of a naked guy, I saw lots of things written on the walls.

One guy wrote a list:

April 4
-It's raining
-I'm bored
-Jon is... crack

Slightly more insightful:

Greater than the love for liberty is the hate for those who take it from us.

Someone tagged this wall on behalf of Jake:

Jake the "mutha fucka", apparently.

And someone called me a "malaga":

From what I can intuitively guess, malaga is a term for a person who isn't well-liked.

I decided to leave my mark near the entrance to the David exhibit:


Then I saw this:

This one's clear enough to read.


"-you could be in Amsterdam by now + see lots of naked people"

So in lieu of seeing the unreasonably tall statue with the unreasonably small penis up close, I opted to take a picture of a postcard instead,

and spend my time on a more worthwhile endeavour,


Like taking a picture of this "ENEL" logo.
(Said in any European accent, it comes out sounding like "anal".)

What's with Europe?

European people have some pretty crazy stuff.

For instance, this lighter/bottle opener.

Now you can indulge both of your bad habits at once!

Some guy bike-locked his chair to a bike rack.

A stationary chair is a very inefficient means of transportation.

They have innuendo-laden Engrish.

...mmm

In Pompeii, the lava aparently caused plant mutations, like this gigantic lemon.

The Euro 50 cent piece is for size reference.

But of all the weird things in Europe this post, this takes the cake:

These odd Pinnochio dancing wall ornaments will "dance" when you pull the string...


...like so:


This one must have gotten drunk and danced a bit too hard.

Among the odd Pinnochio ornaments, he's probably the loser that comes to parties to which he's not invited, gets piss-drunk and makes an ass of himself.

...Unlike PD, the guy who gets invited to every party; when he leaves, everyone goes "Man, that guy is so damned awesome!"

(not photoshopped; straight out of the camera and into your eyeballs)

Oops. You Dropped a Star There, Buddy.

During the Europe trip this summer, we stayed at various hotels, including this one, the Park Hotel Villamaria.


Apparently, it was a four-star hotel at some point.

For some reason, they lost a star.

I spent my time at that hotel trying to find a reason why they'd lose a star. These are the worst things I could find:

Their breakfast butter is made of donkeys.

For gringos, burro is donkey in Spanish.

The paintings on their walls feature paedophilia.


When Dane went to check his email on their computer, he was bombarded with ads.


Weird ads.


They order the special kind of National Geographic:


...the kind with a list of requirements for the Mile High Club.

And here I thought all you had to do was have sex in a plane.

Well, the hotel did have some pretty weird stuff, but nothing worth revoking a star.

Who does the rating, anyway?

Whoever they are, they're probably the type of people who would rent meatwagons.

Europeans and their Pinuses

Don't freak out just yet. This is about pinuses.

While on vacation in Europe, on the way back to our hotel in France, I saw this sign that indicated that I would encounter the "NORD PINUS" on the way back.


I could tell I was getting close.


Then I saw it, the Pinus in all its glory.


Then... what? More Pinuses?




The gift shops were packed with monuments to the almighty Pinus.


French people must hold their Pinuses in high regard.


...And their balls, too, but that's another story for another time.


Bu wait! It's not just the French.

Well, I suppose this counts as a penis.


But there's quite a substantial Pinus right in the middle of the Vatican.


And let's not forget the most famous (and crooked) Italian Pinus of all time:



Straight out of Pisa: the Leaning Tower.

Disclaimer: I don't know what the word "pinus" means, but it was a perfect opportunity to post both my sign pictures and my pictures of the curious abundance of European phallic symbols.

Industrial Vibrators

Pretty kinky!


You can find anything in the phone book.

And while we're on the subject: HoldingMyArmsOut.com

The Commutative Property in Action

I don't buy cheap, one-ply, store-brand toilet paper. I buy the nice stuff. I want to feel like I'm wiping my anus with delicate rose petals.

(You should be thankful that this is what I took a picture of.)

I get Cottonelle Ultra Double. The "Double" is supposed to mean that it can suck up twice as much crap by surface area as "the leading Ultra brand", or twice as much pink KoolAid if the commercials are to be taken in earnest. (On closer inspection, it's actually the number of sheets that's doubled.)

Have I done enough product placement, you think?

Anyway, they've included this handy reference guide so that liberal arts majors, government employees and creationists can easily convert from double rolls to single rolls without the help of a scientific calculator.

Even though they didn't show their work, I think we can believe them when they say that one double roll is equal to two single rolls. 1 x 2 = 2 x 1.

They further extrapolate this by proposing that one triple roll is, in fact, equal to three single rolls.



Oh, now you're just showing off!

Balls!

This is an original Jake quote.
Ever since my creation of this note card, I often scream this whenever I'm angry.

The Midget Gallery

I'm going to cut right to the chase on this one. Dane, Kacey, Ryan and I found a midget gallery in Paris. It wasn't like a walk-in thing, just a store front with no door.


Here, in the window, someone has displayed less-than-clothed pictures of a midget.


But wait, there's more!


I decided to look in to this hole.


By the way, creepy, circus-like music was pouring out of the radiating slits.

There was a slideshow of midget pictures in the peep-hole. This is one of the less-naked ones.


I'm a bit confused. What was the inspiration for this? What is the artist trying to convey?
Whatever it is, he's obviously not conveying hard enough to get through my skull.

Our quote for today comes from a game of Gears of War that I just got done playing with ianb2405, LoneSpartan1214 and El Deej. In Gears of War, many objects can be dented or destroyed by meleeing them, such as the furniture in the indoor section of the level we were playing.

Quote of the Day

Look at Ian [ianb2405]. He's over there beating the shit out of that couch. I think he just, like, hates the furniture. "Yeah, fuck you, bureau!"
-El Deej

200

This, dear readers, is the two-hundredth post on ChasingDucks.com.

We've come a long way, starting out as PD's Crazy Photo Blog with infrequent, uninteresting posts and no readers.

Now we post most days, have three authors, are slightly more interesting and have almost as many readers as authors.

Nothing too big for 200; I'm saving the bonanza for our one-year anniversary.

I have a special treat for you today. Most of you (my current readers) go to my school, so you've probably seen this.

I present to you the result of my teacher saying "you have 25 minutes to write whatever you want.":

My Troubled Relationship with Robert

By Robert Gilmore (that's me)

I woke up in the middle of the night. I'd been poked. Ugh. Robert again.

He's become more tolerable since school began (he's not around so often), but his requests are now far more demanding.

Moaning a bit, I stirred and blinked trying to rouse myself from my dead sleep just moments before. It seemed to take longer than last time. My age is definitely showing. Impatiently, Robert placed his hand on me, shaking me lightly, as if it would somehow wake me up faster.

I don't know why I bother. I know how he secretly hates me. He just uses me, because there's no other option. He'd drop me in a heartbeat for some young, slim beauty; he just doesn't have the money.

I was awake now. In the dim light, he stared at me impatiently. His hand was still resting on me from trying to coax me from my sleep. His hand continued to move, more slowly now, deliberately. Down and to the left. He pressed his finger down lightly.

Just out of defiance, I didn't respond. Almost angrily, he clicked the Start button again. This time, I dutifully popped up the Start menu. I'm such a patsy. He moved the pointer up to Microsoft Word.

"Got a big report due tomorrow," he said.

I could tell there was a long night ahead of me.

Mrs. PSB

While driving on I-35, I took a picture of a woman's license plate. (Well, one would assume it was a woman, a married one at that)

Mrs. PSB?? What does PSB stand for?

I typed PSB into Wikipedia and got results like these:

• The Pacific Symposium on Biocomputing - An annual top scientist Hawaii vacation. All of America's top scientists go spend a week on the beach learning about the newest cutting-edge technology. (don't forget your SPF 300)


• Partido Socialista Brasileiro - Aka: A bunch of Brazilian democrats.


• Pearl S. Buck - Some weird human rights woman author.


• Penn, Schoen & Berland Associates - The marketing guys who are polling people on whether they're gonna vote for Hillary or not.


• Pet Shop Boys - A strange 80's disco band.


• Please See Below - This could mean many things...


• Plus-Tech Squeeze Box - A Japanese band who apparently isn't to talented at coming up with good names.


• Polski słownik biograficzny - A Polish dictionary. Hopefully it includes pronunciation marks, because I can't even pronounce that.


• The Public Security Bureau - Chinese law officials department. Ooh.

This woman could be any of these! Oh beware all you young drivers, these all sound frightening.

Truth is, I thought it mattered. I thought that music mattered. But does it? Bullocks! Not compared to how people matter...
-Chumbawamba

Using Assertive Body Language

If I learned one thing from health class last year, it had to be the use of body language and assertive refusal, otherwise known as "I don't want any. Fuck off!"


(Roll your mouse over each of the following pictures for the modified version after reading the text above it.)

First of all, you must reinforce the meaning of your words with appropriate body language. So, for instance, if you threatened to bore straight through the other man's stomach with your head, show him you mean business by spinning it around a few times.

Who knows? Maybe he didn't know you had a mechanically enhanced drill-head.

If that didn't do the trick (or if you're not equipped with a sharp head the spins at 3000rpm), charging your super laser blast in his direction should make the point.

Still not working for you?

This last option is only to be used as a last resort. Hand the guy a bomb, cleverly disguised as "not a bomb"...

...and run like a pansy.

(You can stop mousing over pictures now.)


Today's Chasing Ducks post is sponsored by the NESAAGRCSRC (North East San Antonio Area Gynaecological Reconstructive and Cosmetic Surgery Research Center), reminding you to "recapture the romance."

Quote of the Day

Do you have any special advice for teenagers?
-Reporter, addressing John Lennon

Don't get pimples.
-John Lennon

Same time tomorrow, kiddos!

Disclaimer: Chasing Ducks is in no way sponsored by or affiliated with the Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute of San Antonio, because that would be pretty weird. Also, I would have used the good old <acronym> tag for the NESAAGRCSRC, but the tooltip wouldn't have been big enough to hold the resulting text.

Don't You Dare!

Well looky here! I have more pictures.

We've all seen these No Smoking signs.

As well as other signs that tell you not to do stuff.



And, of course, logos and bumper stickers that use the same concept.

(That's a tiny car.)


But in Europe, the signs don't specify what it is that you're not supposed to do.

Thank you, Kacey.


Apparently, it's just a "Don't do it!" sign. Here are just some of the "Don't do it!" signs that I saw in Europe.


From what I can tell, maybe they're "Don't be blue" signs. I don't know.

I have many more photos now, and some videos. This blog is going to be rocking soon enough.

Today's quote of the day was originally said yesterday by my friend down the street.

Quote of the Day

My wood looks weird. It's all uneven.
-Angel (Yes, that's his name.)

Trust me when I say that it's not what it sounds like.

Pleasure

Here's some more fortune cookie madness for you:



"A great pleasure in life is doing what others say you can't."


Quote of the Day

"Oh god! I didn't think you could do that! That was amazing!"
-that one chick

I'm back from Europe the day after tomorrow, my pretties. The agony of PD-loneliness will be over soon.

I'm Blue

Blue balls make me sad.


I will say no more about this.

A Large Banana

Recently, San Antonio got a lot of rain.

I was wondering why I had to take a detour from a highway when I suddenly came across this:

The highway: underwater.

As I ventured along the deserted road and noticed something funny.

It seemed to be a very large banana caught up against a tree.

Suddenly two kayakers paddled into view on a mission to get the big banana.

Nature rejected them this oppurtunity however, and threw them down the river, past the banana, and perhaps: to a very gruesome death.

I thought of trying to get the large banana myself, but then I decided, unlike the two kayakers, that I didn't need a big banana. So I went home.

Perhaps one day the large banana will be returned to its original owner.

Rare Find or Innapropriate Girl?

The other day at PD's house, I found a pile of Ashley's clothes and two oranges on a counter

My first question was: What were Ashley's clothes doing at PD's house...?


My second was: Did Ashley purposely put the oranges there?






Knowing Ashley...probably.