How To Make A Watermelon Keg
I know what you’re thinking: “What if I attached a faucet to a watermelon and filled it with spiked watermelon juice so party guests could serve themselves right from the melon?” Well This ladies husband made it a reality. Let me introduce you to The Watermelon Keg. You can wow your guests with this very unique idea and send them all on their way to enjoying a very good night.
We followed the Directions of The Instructables for this one.
What you will need from the Hardware Store
-Hose Bibb, Quarter Turn (that’s the tap)
-Faucet Lock Nuts (those black circles)
-Brass Pipe Nipple 1/2″ (the piece with threads on both ends)
-Coupling 1/2″ (what looks like a hex nut)
-drill bit (optional)
What you will need from the grocery store
-Watermelon (I used a very small melon for this demo, but you’ll need a big one if you want more than two drinks out of it)
-Saran wrap (or similar cling wrap)
What you will need from your kitchen
-paring knife
-ice cream scoop (a spoon could work in a pinch)
-large bowl
-blender
-strainer / sieve
And most importantly, what you will need from the liquor store
-vodka or your poison of choice (this is optional, but there’s not much of a point without it, right?)
Use your knife to cut the top off your melon.Try to keep the hole fairly small, but make sure it’s big enough to stick your hand in. Make sure you cut on an angle (like you would if you were carving a pumpkin) so you can use the top as a lid without it falling in.
You can cut a small notch out of the lid to make it easier to refill your melon after your guests inevitably finish off the original contents.
Scoop out all the contents and set it aside for later.
Brilliant Divorce Letter
Divorce can get so messy. One time lovers very quickly become foes and ending up in messy divorce court.
Dan’s letter is nothing shy of EPIC. Clearly, he is very bitter and tells it how it is to his soon to be ex-wife, including rubbing it in her face about some past discrepancies. Check it out and let me know what you think. Is it too much? or simply genius!
Dear Connie,
I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period but I couldn’t wait anymore.
The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again but that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore.I don;t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt.
This is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, just to illustrate the depth of my desperation She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right?
As I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before. I don’t know, maybe I” just growing up a little.
Later, after I tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. I didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie. I’m going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career or whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too because I can’t help thinking, “why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor?” We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s giving me a lot of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together. Connie, she really is.
So we’re doing Jell-O shots in the hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fu*king remote is?
Love Dan.
The Bible As Brick
I don’t know what I expected when I saw what appeared to be a picture of “The Last Supper”, but surely not what I found. It wasn’t a painting, as I’d thought, but a photograph of The Last Supper as depicted through the construction of a Lego build, which came from something titled “The Brick Bible: The Complete Set.”
I decided to investigate further and found a website dedicated to “The Brick Bible: The Complete Set” which is not just a site with pictures of Lego architecture, it’s a site that sells “Brick Bible” stories. The sets sell at Amazon for the low, low price of only $29.99, but do you think you get any actual Legos with that? NO. This is what you get, and remember, this is the COMPLETE set, both Old and New Testaments. 2 hardcover books, limited edition 2-sided poster, 2,000+ illustrations, and it has the following content rating: older children, teens, and adults.
They do however have other series that are geared toward younger children, such as Noah’s Ark. I understand why the distinction in ages was necessary, as I can see young children not being able to understand such a difficult story as Adam being warned off of apples by a Lego God in a garden of Lego apple trees.
Not only do they have the entire Bible pictured in Lego form and its stories told in yet another translation to add to the who knows how many there have been to date, they have a book titled, “Assassination! The Brick Chronicle of Attempts on the Lives of Twelve US Presidents” by Brendan Powell Smith, who, I forgot to mention, is also the author and artist of the previous items. I would imagine it was quite an easy jump to make from the Bible to Presidential assassination attempts though, as one is probably about as believable and fact based as the other.
I do see one good thing in this whole unbelievable plastic construction though; and that is there are at least no real Legos to get left on the floor for someone to step on, which would probably lead them to start yelling the main character’s name in the first set of books, with some added emphasis.
At the moment there is no association between the author of the books and the LEGO Group but I can imagine only too vividly, “Evangelicals”, close on the heels of “Bionicles”.
Jesus wept.