Apparently Madonna's cone shaped bras aren't the only undergarment that could be used as a deadly weapon. Only in Idaho.

Security guards refused to allow a woman into a federal courthouse until she removed a bra that triggered a metal detector.

Lori Plato said she and her husband, Owen Plato, were stunned when U.S. Marshals Service employees asked her to remove her bra after the underwire supports set off the alarm.

"I asked if I could go into the bathroom because they didn't have a privacy screen and no women security officers were available," Plato said Wednesday. "They said, 'No.'

"I wasn't carrying a shank in my bra. If it's so dangerous, why did they give it back and let me put it on?"

Next item: My loins, they are en fuego.

A Douglasville, Ga., man said he had flames coming up to his chest when his iPod Nano suddenly burst into flames while he was working, WSBTV.com reported Friday.

Danny Williams, who works at a kiosk at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, told WSBTV.com that he had the iPod and a glossy piece of paper in his pocket at the time. He said it was the piece of paper that saved him from being badly burned.

Lastly. I wonder how many underroos you could buy for $44,000.

Thieves have twice raided an Orange County store that specializes in corsets and other costumes, making off with an estimated $44,000 in exotic outfits.

Jeanette Zinkan, a 69-year-old great grandmother who goes by the name "Miss Antoinette," owns Versatile Fashions, and designs most of the store's merchandise herself.

"They took the guts out of me when they took my entire showcase. That's more than 30 years of work," said Zinkan.

In June, police say thieves used a master key to get into the business next to Zinkan's then sawed through the wall and took what she estimated as $15,000 worth of merchandise.

Then last month, the business's back door was pried open, and this time $29,000 in corsets and costumes were snatched.

The thieves took a pair of gowns Zinkan wore to the Sex Maniacs Ball, an erotic awards show in London, where Zinkan played a queen to Hugh Hefner's king.

I guess the reason the story is "news" is because it happened in North Carolina, where we know what real barbecue tastes like. If the "incident" had taken place in Memphis, Texas or Kansas they'd have never know the difference.

Where I probably differ is that nine months out of the year I drink iced coffee almost exclusively. Now, I'm not referring to coffee that's been brewed and then refrigerated, I'm talking about cold brewed coffee. The two have completely different flavors.

From reading various sites it looks like there are several methods with the Toddy Coffee Maker leading the way. Granted I haven't tried it, but I don't see where it'd be worth the hassle of adding another gadget to my kitchen. When it comes to brewing the nectar of life I take a rather simplistic approach, coffee grinds and water go into a pitcher, then gets poured through a reusable cone filter.

Plus, there's a reason I don't drink hot coffee very often. It burns, especially when you're a moron like me and forget to secure the top on your travel mug. Ice coffee on Mr. Johnson doesn't leave burns, hot coffee on the other, um hand, smarts and makes wearing pants uncomfortable.

I'd explain just how uncomfortable it is to sit here with a crotch warmed by coffee this morning, but I've used my daily allotment of profanity for the day.

Note to any Computer Science majors that may happen across this page. Your,
There are 01 types of people in this world¹, t-shirt isn't helping matters.

I guess some people just aren't happy with the way life is meant to be. Most of these guys will remain involuntarily celibate until their Spring Semester of their senior year. Which is when still single chicks start looking at "nice" guys for earning potential instead of their physical prowess. If their auction works it might upset some type of space time continuum thingy and bring about the end of the world.

The money quote in the article:

Professor Carl Hauser has talked with LUG members about trying to increase the number of women in computer science at WSU.

"In our computer science program as well as in programs across the country, the percentage of women is at an all-time low," Hauser said. "Nobody understands what this is all about."

Of course it could also be that women aren't really fans of being oggled by a bunch of guys who can't have a conversation about anything that isn't binary in nature.

Remember ladies, complicated tasks like balancing the checkbook and operating the remote control should be left to the peni-clad members of your household. Y'all just stick with what you're good at, and while you're in the kitchen fix me a sammich.

Thanks to Dave in Texas.

¹The back of the t-shirt typically reads: Those who understand / can read binary and those who can't.

The family of a teenager in Texas has sued Creative Commons, Virgin Mobile Australia and Virgin Mobile USA because Virgin Mobile Australia happened to use a photo of the girl in an ad campaign in Australia. The photo had been taken by the girl's youth counselor, who posted it on Flickr, with a Creative Commons license saying the photo could be used with attribution...

...The family says that they're quite upset because people can now "Google" their daughter. Yet, the ad doesn't have her name, and the photo was put online by the youth counselor, so it's not clear how they could be Googling the ad (and, of course, by suing, the family is only drawing a lot more attention to the ad). Finally, the family is complaining that this is defamatory and insulting.

Below is the ad in question (via Flickr).

I'm kind of curious how the virgin to virgin bit is insulting / defamitory, unless Daddy's little girl has a reputation of being, how you say, "easy / fast / a giver / a skank / a hussy" that the family is proud of and that they're willing to fight to uphold.

Kind of reminds me about the guy in West Virginia who got an annulment after finding out his bride was a virgin on their wedding night. Back at his parents house the ex-groom explained what happened to his father. The boys father wraps his arm around his sons shoulders and says. " Son, you did the right thing. If she ain't good enough for her own family, she sure as hell ain't good enough for ours."

(The original image was lifted from here.)

"The basic approach is wrong ... many marriages last just because people believe they are safe. My suggestion is that marriages expire after seven years."

After that time, couples should either agree to extend their marriage or it should be automatically dissolved

Everybody knows that wimmins start to go to hell in a hand basket after seven years of marriage. They lay around on the couch drinking beer, watching football, burping, farting and making rude comments eating bon-bons as their asses expand exponentially. Maybe a term limit is what's need to provide a little inspiration for them to dust the TV, use the exercise bike for something other than a coat rack and fix me a sammich when I'm hungry.

The most tragic thing of all is that she isn't running for office in the US of A, her plan is pure brilliance. Honest it is, because giving up half your shit every seven years is a sound financial investment plan that even Warren Buffett would approve of...

There's the derivative method, Will being short for William, etc...

There's the drunken college opposite factor, a fat guy named Slim or a body builder named Tiny.

There's also the you drank one to many Jagerbombs and did something really stupid that your buddies won't let you live down.

What has me wondering is the wife, she's got a pet name for me and I'm not exactly sure where it comes from. There's got to be some other ways of coming up with nicknames.

Why? 'cause I haven't done anything stupid and I'm pretty sure "Jackass" isn't a derivative of my given name. So unless there's some other naming convention I'm unaware of, she must be, in her own way, saying I'm one hell of a great guy.

Right?

Why is it, that the inevitable landing place for a toddler's wildly flailing appendage, be it a foot or hand, is their father's 'nads?

America's Funniest Home Videos built a fortune of of guys getting popped in the twins by their kids. Sure we're laughing, covering our own jewels and kind of wincing in pain, but laughing none the less. I guess its the laws of probability or something that delivering the swift blows of what the missus refers to as "justice".

Its getting bad enough around the phish bowl that I'm trying to find where to purchase a titanium athletic supporter, else, I can't ensure the phinlet won't be an only child. Now, I know some of you are thinking that I've brought this upon myself, wrestling and just generally running rampant with the 'tot. In most cases you'd probably be correct, so I guess I can't bitch about them but so much.

However, its the damned sneak attacks that not only sting the worse, but also seem to bring the most delight to the phinlet and missus. Take last night for instance. We're sitting around, unwinding and getting ready to put the phinlet to bed. He's sitting in my lap, watch Bear in the Big Blue House and eating grapes.

Next thing I know, he's ready to get down, so without any warning whatsoever, he does this full body spasm thing that propels him out of my lap and onto the floor (standing I might add). Which would be kind of cool, had the twins not been the springboard for one of his heels. Needless to say, I wincing, then grunted, then just sat their waiting for the world to come to an end.

The wife, giggling uncontrollably, asks if I'm OK. The phinlet, initially concerned, see's his darling mother laughing like a lunatic and joins in. If'n this were a one off occasion, I'd probably be laughing too, but its every week. Now I learn from my mistakes, so the same method of attack only happens once.

Which means eventually they'll subside, maybe? I mean, there's only so many different ways a toddler can inadvertently pop a guy in the 'nads right?

Until then, I'm headed to the local sporting good store and buying a cup.

See, I'm not sure where the phinlet managed to pick up his bad habits. I'm certainly not to blame, that's the only certainty here, personally I think it's his mothers fault, just don't tell her I said so.

Anyhow, at 18 months old he's becoming quite the player on playground (or anywhere else for that matter). He'll ditch pretty much whoever he's with in an attempt to get teh ladies to faun over him. If there's a chance at an upgrade, he'll damn near martyr himself to get to the hottest woman in the room and almost inevitably he does.

You wants an example? I'll give you an example. A while back we were at the grocery. I was only picking up a couple of items, so we don't grab cart, plus the phinlet's happier walking and holding onto my hand. Anyhoo, we make it through the store without incident, but the checkout line, well that's another story.

We're waiting behind an attractive college aged girl, who most likely would be asked to leave if she were to try and board a Southwest flight, when he decides to get his mac on. He starts off innocently enough, playing shy, hiding behind me and waving at her.

No major changes are under way, just a bit of, how you say fall cleaning shall be underway shortly.

Alternatively titled. Okay, so I lied, I didn't get back to a seminormal posting routine momentarily.

Alternative alternatively titlte. Why people like phin shouldn't be allowed to interact with the general public, reproduce, buy houses or do anything else that requires wearing anything other than boxers and occasionally a t-shirt.

Really, honest even, I didn't ever intend to take as long a break as I did, I just got, um, busy. I haven't really be away from the intertubes, I've just been else where, like here and of course here (but I've been missing from ab.com for a while too) and designing.

So where else has phinny been?

Well do you have any idea just how easy it is to acquire an extra house payment? Me, I didn't, at least until back in March. Apparently all it takes is making one phone call to the bank and signing a couple of forms. At least that's all it took for the wife and I to buy another house. Yeah, another, because we hadn't sold ours yet. Kind of a wee bit stressful considering we couldn't afford two house payments, but we couldn't afford to let the house we bought get away either. Ahh, never ending debt, the American dream.

Luckily, within a week of closing on the new house someone made an acceptable offer on the old house. Which was also bad because they wanted to close in ten days and we hadn't finished (really hadn't gotten started good) on the minor remodeling we were doing with the house we'd just bought.

Oh well, it all worked out in the end, there were just a couple of months when I was playing remodeling contractor at nights and on the weekend. The withdrawals from the paint fumes are the worst part.

I caught the phinlet huffing an empty paint can he'd stashed under his crib several weeks back, honest. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd have shared with his old man, but he was bogarting the damned goods. So I put my superior physique to work and wrestled the can away from him. I might as well use the weight difference to my advantage while I have it right?

Between buying the house and now the phinlet turned one and is now 18 months old. Really it doesn't seem like that long ago we were in the hospital, times fun when your having flies or something right? I was hoping that I'd at least be able to match wits with the little guy until he was 5 or 6, sadly that ain't happening. I image its rough being outsmarted by the fruit of your loins when they're teens, I can attest to it being a major kick in the whozits if they're barely walking.

So, now that the house is kind of sort of done, for a while, and the number of design projects I have going on is manageable, I'm back, at least until I disappear again, which shouldn't happen, at least for a while.

I shall return....

Well I guess the people calling for a "phased redeployment" and for us to get out of Iraq now are gonna get their wish. Too bad they weren't specific enough.

Well part of doing right by the phinlet is making sure that he grows up to be a respectable, responsible adult or a reasonable impersonation thereof. As some folks, mainly the voices in my head, suggested we start training him at an early age. So we've come up with some chores that he's responsible for. Just to make sure that the phinlet, age 10 months, totes his own weight around the house.

Well Kate's got some questions about such a thing, so I'll share.

Right now since he's not up to taking out the trash, mowing the law and operating the vacuum we're setting for smaller contributions. Like ensuring the stray Cheetos and Cheerios are off the kitchen / living room / dining room floors. On Saturdays we strap sponges to his hands, knees and forehead so he can mop the kitchen and dining room floors. Sure he misses a couple of spots, but he's learning quick that if he wants to eat the following week he'll do the job right.

I'd wrapped the phinlet in paper-towels, sprayed him down with lemon-pledge and stuffed him behind the entertainment center to dust a couple of weeks back. All was going good until he started flailing around and knocked a bunch of the wires loose. I guess I should have put those receptacle covers up, or at least not given him that fork to clean the crevasses.

Sure some people think its cruel and inhumane when they see the little guy working like a slave, but they normally quit fussing about that when I explain to them how I dust the ceiling fans with the cats.

There's no such thing as a free ride around my house, you know, unless you're me.

As far as penalizing him for chores that go undone or are poorly done I'd started out with a couple of quick lashes from a rubber hose, but well I think he's starting to enjoy the beatings. Mainly because he keeps bringing me the hose. So I guess we'll have to find some new methods of ensuring that he's performing up to snuff. I think I've got an frayed electrical cord, some nipple clamps and a bullwhip left over from date nights with the missus that ought to work, for a while at least.