Whoah. Welding in Russian.
I’m trying to picture what the settings on the MIG welder stand for in Cyrillic. First setting: 500 electrons per solder drop. Second setting: 1650 joules per non-ferrous ingot-pounds. Highest setting: Chernobyls per railcar.
Sometimes, you don’t get the hero you want. You get the hero you need. The world needs more recycled metal, apparently.
Check him out. He’s got a cape, so you know he’s a hero. A guitar hero, if you will. The rest of his outfit doesn’t really mesh, but hey, you can never go wrong with black socks and toddler shorts.
Am I getting old? Is my eyesight going? Are my standards slipping? I don’t think so. The ref is driving me mad. I’m smitten.
OK, so the game is somewhere past amazing. His four cushion shot in traffic is Chinese arithmetic, squared. I missed it, just like all the other shots, because the referee was standing in the frame.
Flip-Flops to the junkyard. To. The. Junkyard.
I’ve been to the junkyard, plenty. As a matter of fact, I’ve been to the junkyard to get parts for 1960s Mustangs, and their idiot adopted cousin, the Fairlane. A proper junkyard is full of snakes, yo. As a matter of fact, we used to go snake hunting in the junkyard. You’re going car hunting in a snakeyard. Wearing toddler shorts ain’t helping your look, either, dude. And you keep returning to the junkyard without any tools. You’re on the Motor Trend channel, so you’re obviously dilettantes, so we’ll move on.