http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Neatorama/~3/wpVo1_-VvF0/

http://www.neatorama.com/?p=28011

Have you ever wondered why tomatoes, potatoes, and some other plants have hairy stems?  Of course not.  Neither have I, until I encountered an explanation in the Telegraph yesterday.

Botanists have discovered for the first time that the plants are carnivorous predators who kill insects in order to “self-fertilise” themselves.  New research shows that they capture and kill small insects with sticky hairs on their stems and then absorb nutrients through their roots when the animals decay and fall to the ground.  It is thought that the technique was developed in the wild in order to supplement the nutrients in poor quality soil – but even domestic varieties grown in your vegetable patch retain the ability.

The fact that they are capable feeding on small insects has been overlooked because domesticated varities are typically grown in rich soils where such dietary supplementation is unnecessary.  They of course also lack the dramatic apparatus shown below in the outstanding video of the Venus flytrap, or the adaptations shown by the sundew and pitcher plant.

Link.  Photo credit Tom Bullock.

( Devo Urbaniak welcomes you in... )

Source: His youtube
Source: his LJ

Stepping out for a night on the town, Robert Pattinson was spotted checking out a friend’s band at The Hotel Cafe in Hollywood on Friday (December 4).

Doing his best to hide from awaiting paparazzi, the Edward Cullen stud was escorted though a parking garage by a security team - proceeding to head back to his hotel with a couple of pals.


( more pictures and info on breaking dawn )


Source

Tudors - Season 4 Set Photos

BTS photos from The Tudors, includes pictures of some of the new actors for S04: Catherine Parr (Joely Richardson), Earl of Surrey (David O'Hara) and Prince Edward (Eoin Murtarg).

SOURCE: spoilertv

( Read more )

( We all know someone can top Taylor, but can anyone top New Moon? )


If you want to talk spoilers in a movie released this weekend, here is the HTML code for white font (ty to sellotape for the textbox):
Cut and Paste from:
SPOILERS (highlight to read) <font color="white">TYPE YOUR SPOILERS HERE</font>

ONTD - Tell us what to see tonight!

Thanks to mechuparmucho for covering for me last week.

Actors Tobey Maguire and Jake Gyllenhaal and producer Ryan Kavanaugh attend a Q&A following the 2009 Variety Screening Series presentation of 'Brothers.'



( more )
source1
source2
has anyone seen Brothers?how was it?(but no spoilers please)

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ICanHasCheezburger/~3/DY9-mWFEcsw/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/?p=215204

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/entertainmentweekly/latest/~3/RE8O0Erceb4/0,,,00.html

Ken Tucker: Last hurrah for Tony Shalhoub's OCD detective; long goodbye for still-vibrant Whedon series

http://curiouspages.blogspot.com/2009/12/gay-mother-goose.html

by Françoise, 1938

Zooey Deschanel guest-stars

Source: Youtube

(CNN) -- Once a fixture on the red carpet and a staple of the daily news cycle, Paris Hilton has recently all but disappeared from the American consciousness.

Has the socialite who became famous simply for being famous ceded her throne to a new set of up-and-coming reality stars and party fixtures, or has she gone purposely dark in order to resurrect her brand like a phoenix rising from the ashes? ( More )

SOURCE

This man is still being a thug up in my citay. Issa Pardy in da Yew.Es.AY!!!( Pimptastic Baby )

Source

http://io9.com/5419354/kick+ass-creators-new-comic-is-dark-knight-mash+up

Wanted and Kick-Ass creator Mark Millar has unveiled his latest Marvel Comics creation, and between the high concept and promotional image released, it's as if he's daring DC to think about legal action. Ballsy or insane? You be the judge.

Nemesis, a new series created and owned by Millar and his Civil War collaborator doesn't just look like the Joker's smile painted on an all-white-costumed Batman's face, it's literally "What if Batman was the Joker." Millar explained to Comic Book Resources:

Yeah, a lot of people who've read it have been coming up with hilarious tag-lines. "What if Batman was The Joker?" is the tame one. "What if Batman was a total cunt?" is maybe my favourite, although it's hardly going to be an ad. [It's] is a reversal of the Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark archetype. What if this genius billionaire was just this total shit, and the only thing that stood between him and a city was the cops? It's Batman versus Commissioner Gordon, in a weird way. Or maybe a super-villain version of "Se7en." A billionaire anarchist up against ordinary people. The Joker's the best thing in the Batman movies, so this guy is a bit of an amalgamation of all the stuff we like.

Consider it a psychological thriller with an unlimited special effects budget, if Millar's description of the series is anything to go by:

All the cops are needed to go up against a guy as formidable as this. He's almost supernatural, he's so good. But he happens to just be in a costume. Hopefully nobody's ever seen anything like it before. We're so used to supervillains fighting superheroes, I just thought, "Imagine if there was only one person on the planet like this, and he was actually a bad guy." How would cops deal with him, even though he has no super-powers? ...Very simply, I wanted to do a book about the world's greatest villain up against America's greatest cop. I just liked the high concept of that - the idea of a villain going around from country to country and having a battle of wits with the best guy that he can get his hands on. And he sends them a little funeral wreath with the date and time of when they're going to die on it, every one dying at precisely that time. All these cops in the Pacific Rim are dead, and then we come in at the American side of the story and see the struggle of this guy in just trying to stop him.

(As much as this is so-obviously-they're-admitting-it-right-off-the-bat a Batman rip-off, am I the only person who got to "All the cops are needed to go up against a guy as formidable as this" and "I just thought, 'Imagine if there was only one person on the planet like this, and he was actually a bad guy'" and thought that it was Death Note?)

The series will debut in 2010, and yes, Millar admits in the interview that there's already Hollywood interest in a movie adaptation.

"Nemesis" Asks: What if Batman was The Joker? [Comic Book Resources]

http://io9.com/5419291/cell-phones-will-not-give-you-brain-tumors

Never mind the urban myths, a new Scandinavian study suggests that there is no link between increased cell phone usage and the frequency of brain tumors after all. Finally, our cancer-worry-cell-phone ban can cease!

Contradicting a 2006 study by Swedish researchers, the new report claims that, judging by the evidence, either tumors take more than a decade to appear following cell phone usage, or that there is no link:

Radio frequency electromagnetic fields emitted from mobile phones have been proposed as a risk factor for brain tumours; however, a biological mechanism that could explain the potential effect of radio frequency electromagnetic fields in the risk of brain tumours has not been identified... The lack of a detectable trend change in incidence rates up to 2003 suggests that [either] the induction period for brain tumours associated with mobile phone use exceeds five to 10 years, the increased risk of brain tumours associated with mobile phone use in this population is too small to be observed, the risk is restricted to subgroups of brain tumors or mobile phone users, or that there is no increased risk associated with mobile phone use.

Of course, this could just mean that we all have tumors waiting to appear in the future, so don't break out the celebratory minutes just yet.

No cancer risk from increased mobile phone use [Guardian.co.uk]

http://aucarrefouretrange.blogspot.com/2009/12/punch.html

J'ai mis un peu de temps avant de m'apercevoir que cette petite collection des Presses de la Cité début 70's avait une certaine classe et le charme des jaquettes de VHS d'antan. Erreur réparée, soyez sympa de pas tous me les piquer dans les bacs de polars à 50 centimes ou je sors mon opinel. Et profitez de ces belles couvrantes d'Ange Bastiani pour aller lire un article passionnant sur ce dernier chez l'ami robo.

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/gawker/full/~3/hXR7keh2DWQ/rise-shine-avoid-murder-on-the-way-to-the-shower-please

NYDN: 'Brooklyn wife plots to abort baby of husband's lover.' Good Morning, NYC.

came to the coffee shop this morning and the door was kicked down, register missing

called my boss, called the cops, gave our statements & descriptions. there was a piece of evidence they're trying to get prints off but it's probably unlikely they'll get anything hard to use against anyone.

my bosses and i are fully convinced it's jesse or some of his piece of shit friends, i told the cops about all the shit he's been doing to me. this shop hasn't been robbed in the entire four years it's been open. strange how this happens now.. but then again, the cops told me another tiny coffee shack was hit on wednesday night, so it could be a coincidence.. or he could have hit them earlier to take the blame off him.

i don't know though. the cops told me i need to start calling them every time jesse comes near me now, i told them i know i should have but haven't because his grandmother's pleaded with me not to and she has helped me out a ton. but she was right there as they told her i need to start reporting this shit.
i gave his description and they're going to go question him about it, chances are regardless of if he's the one behind it he will be going to jail since he is always carrying drugs and hanging out with people who are getting fucked up.

i feel horrible about it and i don't even know if jesse's the one who broke in here or not. something in my gut tells me it was him.. and now i'm at work, the door was broken in so i can't lock it, i feel totally unsafe and just want to fucking go somewhere he can never find me. can't believe someone would fuck with this business, of all the places in moab to fuck with, my bosses are good people

shit's just unreal


oh and when i was talking to one of the cops, she said she's been hearing jesse's name around a lot lately.. funny considering jesse always tells me he's smarter than the law and will never get caught for anything, ever. fucking sociopath.

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/boingboing/iBag/~3/98v5J2dSTLw/saturday-morning-sci-8.html

Ferrofluids are basically just iron nanoparticles suspended in a liquid. In the presence of magnets, they do some pretty cool things. For instance, ferrofluids flow to place where the magnetic flux--the strength of the magnetism--is strongest. So if you magnetize the screw from a meat grinder so the magnetic flux is denser at the top than it is at the bottom, the ferrofluid will climb the screw like staircase.

Thumbnail image courtesy Gregory Maxwell, via CC

http://feeds.theonion.com/~r/theonion/weekly/~3/AjVRL4b0OkU/labor_dept_available_labor_rate

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/labor_dept_available_labor_rate?utm_source=onion_rss_daily

WASHINGTON—"This is such an exciting time to be an employer in America," said Labor Secretary Hilda Solis, adding that every single day 6,500 more citizens join America's growing possible workforce. "There's such a massive and diverse pool of job-ready Americans to choose from. And each month the number only gets higher."

Pretty much anything Bono or Sean Penn write is a festival of crap that would never be tolerated from another contributor. Even James Franco sounds like a moron in today's Wall Street Journal. Here's why:

Celebrities sell newspapers: which apparently makes it fine to abandon your journalistic standards and give them tacit copy approval to get their name on the cover. Here's what one copy editor, who wanted complete anonymity because everyone gets all angry where celebs are concerned, said of working on a rambling diatribe by a famous columnist for a British newspaper.

When it came in it was semi-literate. And by 'semi-literate' I mean 'illiterate'. I went to the editor and told him I could have a crack at it, but it probably needed a rewrite. He said to run it as is, and that any changes — commas, tiny things — had to be approved by the guy's fucking agent.

( Read more )


Source

lol, I just like any article that takes the piss out of Bono in some way tbh

(CNN) -- Music from late rapper Tupac Shakur has been included as part of the Vatican's official MySpace Music playlist.

The seat of the Catholic Church released a list of 12 songs onto the social networking Web site's streaming music service this week when the site launched in the United Kingdom.

Among selections from Mozart, Muse and Dame Shirley Bassey is the slain rapper's song "Changes," which was released two years after his shooting death on a greatest hits album in 1998.

"The genres are very different from each other, but all these artists share the aim to reach the heart of good minded people," the Vatican wrote on its official MySpace Music page.

As of Thursday night, "Changes" had been played more than 4.6 million times on the Web site.

The list was compiled by Father Giulio Neroni, artistic director of church publisher St Paul's Multimedia. He was also responsible for compiling the Vatican's recent Alma Mater album, which combined Gregorian chants and prayers with classical music and the voice of Pope Benedict XVI speaking in five languages.

Shakur, who spent time in prison for sexual assault, was gunned down in a drive-by shooting in Nevada in 1996.

The lyrics of "Changes" describe Shakur's desire to change a grim life of drugs, crime and violence on the streets.

Lyrics of the song, which is labeled as "explicit," include 'Is life worth living, should I blast myself?" "Give the crack to the kids, who the hell cares, one less hungry mouth on the welfare," and "My stomach hurts, so I'm looking for a purse to snatch."

At another point, Tupac sings: "Cause both black and white are smokin' crack tonight."

In contrast, the playlist also contains selections from the album "Music of the Vatican" such as "Advocata Nostra" and "Causa Nostrae Laetitiae."

Other contemporary tracks on the mix include Muse's "Uprising" from their new album "The Resistance" and "He Doesn't Know Why" by the folk group Fleet Foxes.

sores

Miley Cyrus doesn't hear the word "no" very often -- but TMZ has learned that's exactly what she heard when she tried to get into a club in Miami Beach Wednesday night.

We spoke to multiple people connected to the 21-and-over Club LIV at the Fontainebleau hotel -- including a manager, an owner and a rep -- who all told us Miley and her posse showed up to party at the hotspot like they were adults.

They all told us Miley was turned away at the door because she obviously didn't meet the age requirement ... despite the fact that she has the voice of an 81-year-old chain smoker.

Miley's rep tells us this didn't happen ... even though it wouldn't be the 17-year-old singer's first time at a bar.

The photo of Miley we used for this post is of her leaving the Fontainebleau hotel on Thursday.

Source

By Courtney Young

A steady diet of fragile and passive female characters cannot buoy a woman’s self-esteem or build a girl’s confidence. Here, pop culture critic Courtney Young asks if what she identifies as Hollywood’s bias against women with muscles might also help create a climate of violence against women.

December 4, 2009



As I think retrospectively about this year in film, it’s safe to say that it has not been kind to women, particularly strong female characters. Instead, it seems an uphill battle just to get a studio to highlight a female actress. In June, Nia Vardalos’s wrote in the Huffington Post about presenting a script idea to a male studio exec who asked her to change the lead from a woman to a man. Asked why, he replied that women do not go to the movies—in Hollywood talk, there’s just no money in it.

( Read more )

http://io9.com/5419588/the-new-real-livewriting-day-1

Welcome to "The New Real", a sci fi livewriting adventure composed entirely on io9. Over the next two days, we'll bring you into the world of interplanetary narcotics control, where the bad guys are bad, the good guys are iffy, and the heroes are alcoholic and suicidal.

Greetings, humanoids!

I am MCM, and this is "The New Real", a science fiction experiment that will produce a short novel in two days. But I can't do it on my own. I need YOU to help out. Your days of passive entertainment are over!

Here's how it works: every hour, I'll be posting a series of questions at the end of this post, and it's up to you to answer them. They're done like this:

#2D1D #c1q3 Stop or go

And then your answer would be:

#2D1D #c1q3 Go

or

#2D1D #c1q3 Stop and then go and then stop

You'll notice the two hashtags need to appear in the response. That helps my handy-dandy answer parser know which answer goes where. At the end of the hour, my system will grab a random reply for each question and deliver it to me. I then have the next hour to craft a chapter with those elements in mind.

How do you submit answers? There are two ways: first, you can do it via Twitter. Just post a tweet with the formatting above, and I'll see it, no problem. Or, if you're a little more adventurous, you can visit my #2D1D console, enter a username, and you can answer without having to type hashtags or use Twitter at all.

But wait, there's more! You can throw your crazy ideas at me in other ways, too. Comment here on the post, or tweet with the #2D1D hashtag alone, and I'll take some of the cooler ideas and mix them into the story. Some of the best ideas come out of left field, so don't be shy. Anarchy rules.

This post will hold all the chapters for the first day of the event, so check back often. You can also follow me on Twitter or follow the #2D1D conversation as a whole, and read some behind-the-scenes at the Dispatch. Oh, and stay tuned for some twists in the process… there's a chance for you to really mess things up, but you need to be ready.

A note about me: I'm the creator of the cartoon show RollBots, author of The Pig and the Box and The Vector, and an all-around lunatic. Also, I am literarious masochistic. Please be kind.

So without any further ado, let us begin with our first set of questions:

#2D1D #c1q1 Name of a cop
#2D1D #c1q2 Street name of drug
#2D1D #c1q3 Stop or go
#2D1D #c1q4 Piece of trash
#2D1D #c1q5 Name of bar

Chapter 1 Picks
Name of a cop: Rufus Palco by piratepwnsninja
Street name of drug: orange glow by Rok
Stop or go: Go (Always Go since #3D1D) by Janoda
Piece of trash: Dead Mouse by WatchingPreacher
Name of bar: The Madrasah by Eli James

Chapter 2 Questions
#2D1D #c2q1 Topic of conversation
#2D1D #c2q2 Sci fi technology
#2D1D #c2q3 Nickname?

Chapter 1: Accidents

The car slid to the curb, two doors down, rims scratching concrete, a jarring sound. Rufus winced, turned off the engine, and turned to Duffy, finishing his third coffee of the day.
"We're early," he said, re-checking his watch.
"Looks like it," nodded Duffy. "We should just go in, yeah?"
Rufus shrugged. He checked his badge, felt for his gun. He was ready, but he didn't look it.
"Orange Glow's the explosive one?" he asked suddenly, like waking from a dream. "I can't remember. Do we need backup?"
"Don't sweat it," said Duffy, downing the rest of the cup and throwing into the space by his feet. "We can do it either way."
"What if it's a factory?"
"It's not a factory. It's a studio apartment. Stop shaking your leg, you're makin' me nervous."
"Sorry," said Rufus, putting a hand on his knee. "So we go?"
"We'll wait for backup," said Duffy, eyeing the sweat on Rufus' brow. "You don't look too trusthworthy right now."
Rufus nodded, looked out the window. A girl on a pink bicycle was pedalling in circles on the sidewalk across the street. She seemed oblivious the the tension in the air.
"What d'you think, Darvey?" asked Duffy, cricking his neck. "Sound like a plan?"
In the back seat, Darvey lifted his head half an inch, squinting at the pale sunlight. He cleared his throat, and his voice was a quiet grumble.
"Depends," he said. "What plan are you talking about?"
"Waiting for backup," Duffy said, not looking back.
"That's a plan? Sounds like an excuse to me."
Duffy cricked his neck again.
"So what," he said, "you think the three of us can take it?"
"Three of us? Hell no, you guys are on your own. I'll watch the front door, in case you fail that badly."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," grumbled Duffy, getting out of the car.
"Don't mention it," said Darvey, still not lifting his head.
Rufus and Duffy strode down the street to the converted brownstone, let themselves in and took the stairs two at a time until they got to the third floor. The walls were a sickly kind of green, and the carpet was frayed and had brown patches on it so big, it made Rufus ill just to look at it.
They stopped outside #301, guns ready, backs against the wall, and Rufus nodded. One, two, three…
Duffy kicked in the door and Rufus charged in, gun sweeping the room for danger. The dinner table was covered with bags of orange powder, beakers, vats of liquid, and a bunsen burner still going strong. Rufus turned to Duffy, the word "clear" on his lips, but stopped when he saw the closet door swing open.
"Duf-"
The gunshot caught Duffy in the back of the head, spraying Rufus with blood, and he shot once, twice, three times before his partner even hit the ground. The scrawny man in the closet ducked back, paused a second, and shot back. Rufus' arm exploded with pain, and he dropped onto the table, spilling Orange Glow everywhere. He'd lost his gun, and he couldn't make himself move to get it.
The scrawny man watched him with a subtle smirk.

Darvey had finished half his coffee, which meant it was time for a top-up. He pulled the flask from his jacket pocket, emptied it into the cup, and glanced at his watch. Ten thirty.
"Happy hour in Belgium," he said. "God bless time zones."
He strolled to the front door of the building, hand blocking the sun, looked around the street. The girl on the bike was still going in circles, as if there was some kind of charm to it, as if it weren't just nauseating watching it. Darvey cleared his throat again, looked up the steps inside, took another swig of his coffee.
The shots echoed so loudly he choked before he could swallow, and a second later, he heard feet racing down the staircase. He threw his drink out, ducked around the corner, and reached for his gun. Missing.
"Dammit," he spat, and looked back to the car. Too far. He looked around until he settled on a pile of trash by the building's edge. A lot of banana peels, apple cores, milk cartons…
"Come on…" he cursed, and heard the door behind him open. A scrawny man with blood all over stumbled out and started running for cover.
"Dammit dammit dammit," spat Darvey, and grabbed the first solid object he found: a dead mouse. He wound back and threw it as hard as he could. It connected with the scrawny man's head, and he turned around, eyes flaring, shocked almost, stumbling backwards into the street.
Before either of them could say a word, a car fishtailed into the scene, catching the scrawny man in the legs as it tried to stop. His head cracked against the windshield, and he fell to the ground in a heap… but not before his gun let off one more round…
The pink bicycle toppled in a pool of blood.

From what he remembered, Darvey's gun and badge sat on the Captain's desk for hours while they grilled him. From what he remembered, every single person in the precinct watched him come and go. The people on the street all knew, he knew, and they hated him. Before the girl was even brought to the morgue, he felt the weight of the whole world hating him, and he hated them back.
"You smell like booze," the Captain'd said. "Jesus, Mack. What were you thinking?"
He'd said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Duffy was dead. Rufus Palco's widow was in the hall, wailing. Her voice drowned out the Captain every chance it got. And it got a lot of chances.
IAB wanted a blood sample, but his lawyer refused on his behalf. The press was toying with headlines all day: "DRUNK COP KILLS GIRL", or "THE BOOZE FIASCO." They'd figure it out by the six o'clock news. Something catchy.
Darvey walked back to his apartment, as sober as he'd been in months, and when he got inside, sat on his bed, tie askew, and looked at the photos on the dresser. His wife, his daughter, both smiling back at him. He inhaled sharply, licked his dry lips, and clasped his hands together.
"I screwed up," he said to the photo. "God damn, I screwed up."
He got up, opened the sock drawer and reached underneath, pulling out a small revolver. Half-empty. Good enough. He slipped it into his belt, made the sign of the cross… backwards, he realized, and tried it again. He kissed his fingers, touched his wife's smile, and left home for the last time.
It was a long walk to the river, but the streets were mercifully empty. He paced along the edge, looking into the depths, hands shaking, eyes drier than they had any right to be.
He stopped by a side street that led right to the water, touched the gun again to be sure. He looked up into the sky, into the grey heavens, and opened his eyes wide for the first time in so very long.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll make it right."
Just then, he heard the squeaking of a door, and behind him, two men stumbled out of a building across the street. The Madrasah. An out-of-place dive bar that was open "24/7." Darvey looked back to the river, and back to the Madrasah, and he knew what he had to do.
The story was on the TV inside, but they didn't show his face this time. He ordered five shots of scotch before the bartender gave him the whole bottle and a bigger glass. The parents of the girl were on TV, crying the same as at the precinct, and it was too much for him to bear. He took his bottle, his glass, and his shame, and found a table in the back where no one would see him.
An hour later, the bottle was empty and Darvey had the revolver on the coaster in front of him. He toyed with it, spinning it, staring at it and nothing else.
"What're you drinking?" asked a voice out of his view, and he declined to make the effort to see who was talking.
"What're you buying?" he said.
"Another bottle of scotch? Is that your first?"
"First and last."
"I'll get you another."
"I won't need it soon," Darvey said, and put the gun to the side of his head.
"You know that won't work," said the voice, Darvey was forced to acknowledge a man sitting across from him, black suit and crew cut, greying hair and a lined face. "Half the people that do it that way survive."
"I won't," Darvey said.
"Oh, you will. The ones like you, they always survive. If you want to kill yourself right, you need better technique."
"What are you, ‘Suicide for Dummies'?"
The man laughed, scratched his chin.
"I'm here to offer you a better technique."
Darvey lowered the gun, put it on the table, but kept his hand on it, just in case. The room was spinning, but not so much he couldn't see an intervention coming.
"Whaddya mean?" he slurred.
"I have a job I need taken care of, and I think you're a perfect fit."
Darvey chortled.
"Some job," he laughed.
"It's a suicide mission," said the man. "I don't expect you'll last more than a day. But we need a representative, and you have the background and future prospects we need."
"What kind of mission?"
"Narcotics control. The details… well, it's best if I don't explain here."
Darvey shrugged.
"What's the pay?" he asked.
"Living expenses, and the knowledge that you're doing something good before you die."
"You haven't read my file, then."
"Oh I have. You'll be an excellent fit."
Darvey laughed loudly, shook his head.
"So if I say yes, then what? You fly me to Bogota or something? Do I ever come home?"
"No," said the man. "You'll never come home."
"Not even in a body bag?"
"Not even that," said the man.
The parents were wailing on the TV again. Darvey gripped the handle of the gun, but saw the man waiting for an answer.
"Sure," he said finally. "I never did much of anything in my life. Might as well have an interesting death."
And with that final effort, Mack Darvey passed out in the bar called Madrasah.

Chapter 2 Picks
Topic of conversation: cheese by bobbobins
Sci fi technology: jetpacks combined with lunchboxes by GremlinMike
Nickname?: Nickname? Gordito by tenaciousN

Chapter 3 Questions
#2D1D #c3q1 Street name of drug.
#2D1D #c3q2 Lawyer or no lawyer?
#2D1D #c3q3 A very bad alibi.

You have 60 minutes (until 11:30AM EDT) to send me your answers. Good luck!

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/021093.html

Ghetto girl #1: Smut. What is "smut"?
Ghetto girl #2: "Smut"? Sounds like "slut."
Ghetto girl #1: Yeah. I think it's like "slut," but for a man.
Ghetto girl #2: Cause it has an "m" for men.

--31st St & 8th Ave

Overheard by: Sco108

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Neatorama/~3/FB3FE6GI4mQ/

http://www.neatorama.com/2009/12/05/bbc-life-beautiful-venus-flytrap-timelapse-shows-off-two-hair-trip-mechanism/

Ever wondered what a fly’s worst nightmare might be? No, nor have I, but I bet it looks something like Venus flytraps catching their dinner.
 
Despite their name, and the fact that they look like something from another planet, wild Venus fly traps (Dionaea muscipula) are actually only found in the wetlands that lie within a hundred-mile radius of Wilmington, North Carolina, Planet Earth.
 
And another thing – they don’t just eat flies. As long as its prey is roughly the right size, and touches two of its hairs within twenty seconds, then the carnivorous plant’s jaw-like leaves will snap shut on any insect or spider that comes its way.
 
If the meal is too small and is able to escape then the leaf opens up again within a few hours. But if dinner continues to struggle, the lobes close even further until the outer edges have sealed to form something akin to a stomach. Here, glands in the lobes secrete enzymes that break the dinner down into a fluid that the flytrap can then digest.
 
Ten days after dining on the soup in their fly, the trap pops open to reveal nothing but a dried out husk.  Despite the poor soil beneath it, the plant has just obtained all the nitrogen it needs.
 
As it can take two to three weeks for a new leaf to develop into a fully-formed trap, cameraman Tim Shepherd used time-lapse photography to bring the sequence to life. But there is nothing speeded up about the traps shutting on their prey. That takes just a fraction of a second.</br></br></br></br></br></br></br></br>

Link – via rubberrepublic

From the Upcoming ueue, submitted by rubberrepublic.