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kwaran (Member Profile)

PlayhousePals says...

Happy Birthday kwaran! However you do it, enjoy your time to shine [me thinks waffles would be divine in Belgium ... perhaps I'll have that for breakfast on my next day of celebration]

grahamslam (Member Profile)

siftbot says...

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Breakfast. Take it. Or leave it.

shagen454 says...

Yeah, I hardly ate breakfast for a decade just because I didn't have the time between crunching sleep and getting to work, then my metabolism just evolved.

I think this is the reason that eggs. sausage, hash browns, bacon & toast make me excited since rarely have the time to eat em.

Breakfast. Take it. Or leave it.

ChaosEngine says...

I couldn't agree more with this.

I love me some breakfast... when I want it. But I am almost never hungry in the morning, and I am sick of muppets telling me I have to eat breakfast.

The only time I'll eat breakfast in the early morning is when I'm going to be doing a lot of physical activity early (e.g. a half marathon or equivalent).

Breakfast. Take it. Or leave it.

Breakfast. Take it. Or leave it.

Hollywood Whitewashing: Last Week Tonight, Feb2016

ChaosEngine says...

Which would be fine if it wasn't so one-sided, or (in lots of cases) just fucking terrible.

I mean, Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffanys? Even if that a horrible caricature, it would still be just horrible.

Funnily enough, The Last Samurai is probably the least offensive on the list since it's primarily a story ABOUT an outsider learning a new culture (the idea that he would equal one of them with a sword is laughable, but that's a standard narrative trope anyway).

gorillaman said:

Perhaps we could all just get used to the idea that sometimes actors pretend to be people they're not.

What Japanese Breakfast is Like

Gillian Jacobs recounts her worst date

noims says...

"Why don't you just come back to my place and my mom will cook you breakfast in the morning."

Smooth as sugar. Watch out ladies!

No, I mean it. Watch out.

An Unfortunate History of White Actors Playing Other Races

nanrod says...

I don't have a problem with many of these like Alec Guiness and Anthony Quinn in Lawrence of Arabia and after all they did have Omar Sharif. How many big name arab or more specifically bedouin actors were available at that time. And you can't expect a big blockbuster movie to go after no names

On the other hand some of these were cringe worthy and downright offensive ... Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's being a prime example.

Alton Brown reviews kitchen gadgets

newtboy jokingly says...

Awesome.
I have had the same soreness issue after a session of pulling my pork with a fork, but I hadn't discovered that ninja claws could simplify the job.

...And as for Rollie, who knew there was a market for limp egg breakfast dildos?

Stormsinger said:

I flat out disagree with him on the meat shredders. I made my pulled pork with a fork for at least two years before I stumbled over the claws. And every single time, it took about 30 minutes to do 5 pounds, and I suffered from the shredding equivalent of writer's cramp. With the claws, that same five pounds takes around 7-8 pain-free minutes. They're a bargain.

Don't work for free

Payback says...

Monetization of art, which is what they're talking about, isn't a commodity or a service. Seems disingenuous to equate these different things. When you get breakfast, or do a workout, or have an architect design your concept, there's an underlying understanding of what's being offered. At the other end of this, you can pay a designer for something, say a website, and end up with complete dreck and you've lost your money.

Although they get close with the architect, it's still not the same.

Besides, spec only exists because people agree to it.

Meridian Drainage Collapse

Man on the Moon - John Lewis Christmas 2015 Advert

gorillaman says...

So...I go to John Lewis if I'm an old man who wants to look at little girls through a telescope?


The Man in the Moon had silver shoon
And his beard was of silver thread;
He was girt with pure gold and inaureoled
With gold about his head.
Clad in silken robe in his great white globe
He opened an ivory door
With a crystal key, and in secrecy
He stole o'er a shadowy floor;

Down a filigree stair of spidery hair
He slipped in gleaming haste,
And laughing with glee to be merry and free
He swiftly earthward raced.
He was tired of his pearls and diamond twirls;
Of his pallid minaret
Dizzy and white at its lunar height
In a world of silver set;

And adventured this peril for ruby and beryl
And emerald and sapphire,
And all lustrous gems for new diadems,
Or to blazon his pale attire.
He was lonely too with nothing to do
But to stare at the golden world,
Or to strain at the hum that would distantly come
As it gaily past him whirled;

And at plenilune in his argent moon
He had wearily longed for Fire-
Not the limpid lights of wan selenites,
But a red terrestrial pyre
With impurpurate glows of crimson and rose
And leaping orange tongue;
For great seas of blues and the passionate hues
When a dancing dawn is young;

For the meadowy ways like chrysophrase
By winding Yare and Nen.
How he longed for the mirth of the populous Earth
And the sanguine blood of men;
And coveted song and laughter long
And viands hot and wine,
Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes
And drinking thin moonshine.

He twinkled his feet as he thought of the meat,
Of the punch and the peppery brew,
Till he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,
And fell like meteors do;
As the whickering sparks in splashing arcs
Of stars blown down like rain
From his laddery path took a foaming bath
In the ocean of Almain;

And began to think, lest he melt and stink,
What in the moon to do,
When a Yarmouth boat found him far afloat,
To the mazement of the crew
Caught in their net all shimmering wet
In a phosphorescent sheen
Of bluey whites and opal lights
And delicate liquid green

With the morning fish — 'twas his regal wish —
They packed him to Norwich town,
To get warm on gin in a Norfolk inn,
And dry his watery gown.
Though St. Peter's knell waked many a bell
In the city's ringing towers
To shout the news of his lunatic cruise
In the early morning hours,

No hearths were laid, not a breakfast made,
And no one would sell him gems;
He found ashes for fire, and his gay desire
For choruses and brave anthems
Met snores instead with all Norfolk abed,
And his round heart nearly broke,
More empty and cold than above of old,
Till he bartered his fairy cloak

With a half waked cook for a kitchen nook,
And his belt of gold for a smile,
And a priceless jewel for a bowl of gruel,
A sample cold and vile
Of the proud plum porridge of Anglian Norwich —
He arrived much too soon
For unusual guests on adventurous quests
From the Mountains of the Moon.

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver: Sugar

serosmeg says...

Just try and consume the WHO recommended sugar intake. About 24 grams per day. One can of Pepsi, 41 grams. Eat processed food and you will get up to 24 by breakfast.

"A new WHO guideline recommends adults and children reduce their daily intake of free sugars to less than 10% of their total energy intake. A further reduction to below 5% or roughly 25 grams (6 teaspoons) per day would provide additional health benefits.

Free sugars refer to monosaccharides (such as glucose, fructose) and disaccharides (such as sucrose or table sugar) added to foods and drinks by the manufacturer, cook or consumer, and sugars naturally present in honey, syrups, fruit juices and fruit juice concentrates."



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