http://www.ohgizmo.c...s-rubber-bands/



There exists a gatling gun that shoots a continuous stream of up to 144 rubber bands. This rocks. I need one.

Okay, I think I'm just going to turn this into a thread of weird shit that amuses me (but isn't funny enough for funny shit) rather than spam General Bullshit or start new topics all the time.



The following is likely an urban legend, but it's a good story all the same.





----------------------



The Reversal of "This was no accident" -





I'll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:



I got a vasectomy.



I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking.



Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.



*(Note-he's making excuse for her red flags--NOT a good sign-)



I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.



We date for a few months. I never made any move towards committment but she brought it up occasionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship.



For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.



Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby".



She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.



At this point, I'm just as giddy.



I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up.



Good thing I was using condoms!



Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri.



So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again.



I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me.



There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.



Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically.



It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy.



First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner.



Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready.



I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father.



I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.



She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future.



We have some pretty good sex.



Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?"



Well, she goes batshit insane again.



Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity.



Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.



I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down.



She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up.



She thinks she has me trapped.



She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.



I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.



I tell her simply, "You're screwed".



Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.



I continue. "I am sterile"



Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in.



Naturally, she reverts to women's logic.



"You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it."



I hold up the letter and the test results.



"Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm.



Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine."



This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation.



"Bullshit, those are fakes."



I was ready for that.



"No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine."



I give the woman all the documents.



She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake.



With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.



I had no sympathy for her.



I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.



Epilogue -



I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met.



I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.



The Moral of the Story -



Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.

:o BWAAHHHAAHAHAH!!! X-D X-D Oh my lawd! X-D



Thank you for that story, Darkstar! X-D X-D

hahaha shit funny story X-D I trust no one, especially women.

Eccentric robot bartenders. Maybe I could actually get my drink served within a reasonable time? Read on.







Shaken, not stirred -- cocktail robots mix drinks

December 8, 2006



VIENNA, Austria (Reuters) -- Staring with glowing red eyes at a young woman strolling by, bartender Chapok slowly extends his arm to offer her a gin and orange.



She takes the glass, murmurs a flustered "thank you" and walks away while the cocktail-mixing robot turns his attention back to a row of bottles.



"People are interacting, they are actually talking to my robot," smiles David Calkins, who teaches robotics at San Francisco State University.



"This is fantastic, exactly what I was hoping for."



Chapok is one of around 30 robots at Vienna's annual Roboexotica, which showcases how home-built machines deal with the modern pastime of hanging out in bars.



Robots were invited to demonstrate their skills in categories like mixing cocktails, serving drinks and snacks, bar conversation and smoking cigarettes and cigars.



"It's all about the flair, the atmosphere and the personality that a robot can have," said Magnus Wurzer, ducking a bunch of cocktail cherries launched by a robot in one corner of the hall to another holding a drink at the other end.



The cherries miss their target and hit onlookers.



"The robots shouldn't be efficient," Wurzer said. "They shouldn't behave like they were in a factory, they should be cultured and urbane."



In 1999, Wurzer, a 36-year-old robot lover and artist, helped launch the cocktail robot convention Roboexotica (www.roboexotica.com) in Vienna.



They are not trying to build commercially viable robots or gadgets that look like humans. Rather they aim to assemble machines that display a unique mechanical charm and personality.



Wurzer's favorites from years past include a robot that scrounged drinks from passers-by, and one that offered to light visitors' cigarettes but ending up smoking them itself.



Chapok, who resembles the tin man in the "Wizard of Oz", is one of the robots making a name for himself this year.



Wired to a row of bottles from which he mixes his drinks, Chapok is linked to a computer that provides him with a bar-room repartee not strong on subtlety.



"Hey you sweet thing, have you ever had a date with a robot?" he asks women customers.



"You want what? Order yourself a drink for a man, you girl!" is his way of warming up male customers.



Onlookers respond with laughter and astonished looks. "One of the reasons why people go to bars is to interact," said Calkins, trying to untangle the wires protruding from his robot.



"And if you have a robot that talks to you and insults you ... you can be sure that people won't forget him.



"Of course I could build a robot that irons shirts or something and that would be just as difficult. But having a cocktail robot is just much more fun and even if your robot doesn't work, you still have a party."



Down the hall, Robert Martin is showing off Robomoji, a cupboard-sized machine with rattling chains and steel gears mixing its creator's favorite drink, a mojito.



"I just love to develop my robot, I have worked on it for the past four years and every year it goes a step further," said the 32-year-old German technician as he fixed the ice crusher.



"Next year I'll get the bit fixed where it stirs the drink and then puts in a straw."