Where’d the weasel belly go?
I didn’t realize Grok had an image creator, but it does. Go to regular Grok and type “create a picture of a weasel playing the banjo.”
It clearly has an issue with middles. And feet. It did the same thing to “badger playing a violin” (no, Uncle B doesn’t play the violin).
I satisfied my curiosity on one point: if you give it the exact same prompt you will get different images each time, including some wild ones (two-necked banjo, anyone?).
One more day of work!
December 19, 2024 — 5:02 pm
Comments: 4
*clink* moooo
Today, we went to the farm shop OF THE FUTURE! It’s a giant farm shop vending machine. Inside the cubbyholes are eggs and homemade cakes and vegetables and slabs of meat. Like a New York automat, but for farm produce.
This is their publicity photo. We found the actual shop considerably grubbier, but still cool. It’s a collection of vending machines in a shipping container on a gravel farm lot. The touch screen in the far right is where you choose what you want, pay by contactless and the correct doors pop open for you.
It’s a bit of a drive for us, but we had to go.
Oh, had a horrible scare, though. The milk vendor is in a separate building. I went to take my debit card out of my phone case to pay, and neither my credit nor debit cards were there! Turns out, when I opened my phone to take a picture of this shop, both cards fell on the ground at my feet. Found them when I went back to the car, but I had visions of ass-ache for Christmas.
December 18, 2024 — 5:56 pm
Comments: 6
Something skeert my chicken
We heard a squawk late the other night and I went flying out to the henhouse (O, how many times?). That little cross in the window was missing and my hen was downstairs in the run sitting in her water bowl making distressed chicken noises.
Near as I can figure it, something punched its face through the window (there’s no glass or anything). Probably a fox, because a badger would have bulldozed the hutch over. It’s a tiny house; foxy probably poked her off the perch with his nose. Poor girl.
The rooster, naturally, slept through the whole thing.
December 17, 2024 — 5:34 pm
Comments: 4
Language lesson
If you can’t read it, the French for rubber band is bracelets élastiques and the German is Gümmibander. Perfect.
I sure hope these are the right size, because I just bought a kilo of them. Do you know how many rubber bands are in a kilo? A real lot.
Welp, here we go. Last week before Christmas week, which I have off. I’ve bought everything I’m going to, I suspect. Pity Uncle B. He’s getting a weird assortment of weaselkitch this year.
December 16, 2024 — 6:38 pm
Comments: 11
Happy Friday the 13th!
I’m friendly with a woman who owns a coffee shop in town. She’s been moaning at how bad business has been these last couple weeks, so I stopped off and had a double espresso this morning on the way in.
Then when my boss arrived, I had a black Americano first thing. I don’t know why they call it an Americano. Do you?
Then on Fridays I get together with a group of old ladies for a cappachino mid morning. I was thrumming like a banjo string by lunch. Electric weasel.
Have a good weekend. I promise you more of the same lazy, low quality content all next week.
December 13, 2024 — 6:48 pm
Comments: 12
That sucker. Right there!
Leg cramp! Leg cramp! And not the usual calf muscle, either, but that funny little muscle that runs along the shin. Pulled my toes toward my knees and made me dance around hooting.
Yes, you have been experiencing lazy holiday Weasel. I’m not actually off for another week, but I’m soooo tapped out already.
I see the Your Daily Dose of Internet guy has picked up on the geriatric albatross story. Also, he’s gone from three minute videos to nine minute videos. If you’ve never wasted an afternoon with this guy, you’re welcome.
December 12, 2024 — 7:55 pm
Comments: 6
Huh. Things I didn’t realize I wanted.
The auction house we bought that bookcase from is currently running an auction entirely of Vinaigrettes, Snuff Boxes and Vesta Cases. So much pretty silver.
A vinaigrette – if you didn’t know, and I had to look it up – is a little silver box with a grill. Under the grill is a sponge and onto the sponge you’d soak – vinegar, I suppose. Something to hold up to your delicate nose because the olden days stank.
I can absolutely see how these things would be collectibles. I love engraving…
December 11, 2024 — 7:26 pm
Comments: 4
Oh. Ohhhhh.
I’m surprised we don’t see more of this, on reflection. I’m surprised social media isn’t clogged with mental illness. I guess most people this far gone have minders.
This was hidden at the end of an unrelated Xweet. She’s made 40K of these in four years. That’s about 40 a day. Some are cut and paste, but there are variations that reveal more elements of her delusion. It’s very sad.
There’s another (totally unrelated) thing on Xwitter that makes me crazy. Tucked behind a spam label at the foot of a thread, you’ll see something like,
Ever since I started following @Mary_Normalname, my investments have truly skyrocketed! Thanks so much Mary!-@pookie28374656
The @pookie28374656 will have 30 – 300 followers and the @Mary_Normalname one will have about 30,000. Every time.
I’ve seen a dozen of these. I assume it’s some kind of cryptocurrency spam. I report them both. Not that it does any good, but I’m spiteful like that.
December 9, 2024 — 5:29 pm
Comments: 2
They ate my hat!
And by they, I guess I mean moths. I went to retrieve it from the hatstand where it’s been all summer (and by hatstand I mean the bronze sculpture of a Spanish lady that I inherited from my grandfather), and huge chunks of fur fell out. It’s balding!
The hat is rabbit fur and the tail is raccoon. Didn’t touch the raccoon tail, only the rabbit. I guess I’ll rescue the tail and…sew it to something.
I’m open to suggestions, but one person in my friend circle is militantly anti-fur, so my other friends had to scream “here she comes!” so I could whip off my hat. It’s a bit of a palaver. I wouldn’t want to sew it onto something I couldn’t hide in a hurry.
The Canucks at Fur Hat World don’t really ‘get’ coonskin caps. Instead of a short Davy Crockett style coonskin cap, they make these tall ones in the style of a Russian fur hat. It had the advantage that I could tuck the tail inside and look almost elegant.
Check out the skunk. Who the hell would want a skunk-skin hat?
We’re expecting Storm Darragh all weekend. No, I don’t know how to pronounce it, I only know that it comes bearing 50 mile and hour winds. Y’all stay dry now!
December 6, 2024 — 5:50 pm
Comments: 11
Say a little prayer for my liver
I have a identified the nature of most of the clutter in the library: dozens of bottles of hooch. Half empty bottles, unwanted gifts, out-of-date wine. I see no alternative but to drink my way out of this.
Yes, I’m still making a disaster zone out of our home. We found a spot for the old bookcase and in so doing stirred up a turbulent sea of junk. Several old dead computers and an egg incubator. Bills going back decades. I’m inconsolable; I have broken several Victrola records. I can’t bear to see which ones.
I am at that stage of the process where I have made everything immeasurably worse. We bought our tree today and I somehow have to clear the space where it usually lives, by tomorrow night.
I know! I’ll drink!
December 5, 2024 — 7:10 pm
Comments: 11