Check out this super ridiculously Rad device called "The Courier" that Microsoft is releasing sometime during or near Armageddon times. Super tips of the laser hat to SleepONE for showing your humble nerd this amazing piece of amazingry. It reminds me of Sony's Japanese tile computer prototype. Honestly, I'll take either.
I'd just need to install one of those plastic guards they put near gross buffets in case of face explosions.
Remind me again: how is it that we can't control the weather yet? All I'm saying is we need to get on that shit. Science it up, Science! I swear, if it rains on me again while on my way to work and I puddle-rape my Nike's one more time, I'm going to save up my terrible salary for R&D to design a robot that challenges clouds to fistfights.
Yes, I fucking hate rain. Hate it like fat kids don't hate cake.
And once they're done punching all the clouds in the face, I'll command them to systematically hunt down all the weathermen who think it's all good to tell me to "bundle up" and pack some rain gear while they exchange chuckles over coffee with their brick-faced colleagues, mocking my inevitable misery from their warm, dry TV studio with their bone-white giant teeth and dead mannequin eyes. Smile now, pay later, Mr. Weatherperson. Lock those doors, Smiley. They're coming for you. And when they do, I can guarantee a 75% chance of you getting a robot kick inside your giant watermelon-sized face.
I'd just need to install one of those plastic guards they put near gross buffets in case of face explosions.
Remind me again: how is it that we can't control the weather yet? All I'm saying is we need to get on that shit. Science it up, Science! I swear, if it rains on me again while on my way to work and I puddle-rape my Nike's one more time, I'm going to save up my terrible salary for R&D to design a robot that challenges clouds to fistfights.
Yes, I fucking hate rain. Hate it like fat kids don't hate cake.
And once they're done punching all the clouds in the face, I'll command them to systematically hunt down all the weathermen who think it's all good to tell me to "bundle up" and pack some rain gear while they exchange chuckles over coffee with their brick-faced colleagues, mocking my inevitable misery from their warm, dry TV studio with their bone-white giant teeth and dead mannequin eyes. Smile now, pay later, Mr. Weatherperson. Lock those doors, Smiley. They're coming for you. And when they do, I can guarantee a 75% chance of you getting a robot kick inside your giant watermelon-sized face.
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