http://www.carbonfund.org/site/pages/carbon_calculators/category/Assumptions

http://www.appdata.com/facebook/apps/index/id/102452128776

http://www.carbonify.com/carbon-calculator.htm

28 million daily active users

15minutes/per person * 28million = 7 million hours

300 watts average power supply * 7 million hours = 2.1million kw

2,100,000kw * 1.5lbs/kw = 3,150,000 Pounds/day

3,150,000 == 1575 Tons/Day Carbon

This girl trounces over to him, pulls him off the wall and proceeds to make a spectacle of them both. However, it was clear that she was mocking him in some capacity. This disgusted, and angered me. Firstly, because this girl was a whore, but secondly, because she was taking advantage of someone who had a problem to garner attention … for herself.

After she flung him back onto the wall, I noticed her walking towards me, while looking right at me. I was being seduced into being one of those guys she was using to create the pedestal onto which she demands all men hold her. I, do not like being told what to do, unless it’s in bed, in which case, fire off those orders.

She leaned in close and put a hand on my chest while whispering in my ear.

“Did you see that? I totally rocked his world.” As she started to grab my hand, to lead me to what would inevitably be the auction of my soul.

Facing moral peril for encouraging this girls antics, I found the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was actually watching her.” I said, as I pointed to some other girl doing something indescribable with her lower portions.

The look of disgust that ran over this girls face was paramount to me banging her sister. I like to think I helped the Karma train make one more stop that night.

For a couple of weeks during the summer, some buddies and I got into an escalating series of “Who will blink first” style encounters. It started out small, like drinking drinking two beers at once, or going to some ridiculous place for a beer. As my friends 25th birthday approached, things started to get more serious. One Friday night we decided we needed to do a road trip not 12 hours later. After some text messaging people for suggestions we received the suggestion of “Huntington Beach California”. For lack of a better suggestion, we concluded “Why the fuck not?!”

We set off early the next morning with no hotel reservation, no directions, and our GPS pointed the “town center” of Huntington Beach California. Descending out of the mountains, we started cracking the windows when the temperature hit the 80’s and were full windows down, volume 10 by the time we got beach side.

We found a hotel room, and after pumping up the air mattress, we set to disinfecting our stomachs with half a bottle of Smirnoff vodka we found on sale at the super market across the street. We had dinner beach side at a nice Mexican restaurant (Fred’s Mexican Cafe) that was just bawdy enough to support our antics, and just classy enough I could wear a nice shirt and feel like a douche. The Mexican restaurant was at the top of one of the biggest flights of stairs I’ve seen west of the Mississippi, as apparently are many of the areas local watering holes.

After dinner, we hit the towns beach side bars. I was really impressed at the pedestrian friendly environment they’ve created. You could stumble from bar to bar pretty effortlessly. We found a nice upscale bar on a corner that featured some lovely fish tanks, and liberal libations. As we were leaving, I tripped over something trying to get out, in all likelihood is was my own feet, but I don’t know for sure because some blond girl interjected, as I was defending my sobriety, “You’re drunk. You don’t have to lie to kick it.”

I said, “I’m not drunk, and were you born that blond sweetheart?”

This Short.

It was going to be one of those nights. I heard her swearing at me as we were walking away, and while trying to be cool I managed to trip going up the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Perhaps she was embracing the old latin adage of “Veritas” in some strange way. As my ego was recovering from the “See you next fall”, I saw a beautiful blond walking towards us. She was wearing a tight shirt, and the shortest blue jean skirt I’ve ever seen in my life. She had a stride like a model…from my dreams. She practically walked in slow motion, one foot in front of the other, and her high heeled shoes gave the most indulgent “clunk” as she strode her way towards us. As I was starting to slowly inhale, so that I could smell what I’m sure was the very expensive perfume she was wearing, she turned and went into the bar right in front of us.

I watched, half in awe and half in that way a wolf looks at a rabbit: She was a goddess. She stood at the top of this very steep flight of steps, and I stood at the bottom. As we were waiting, she was chatting up the bouncer for what felt like longer than appropriate for such a hot girl, and my mind was starting to wander. I wonder what her underwear looks like, I thought. So, as she was giggling to the bouncer, I started problem solving. The inherent flaw in drunk problem solving is that one often fails to consider the repercussions of solutions. The most eloquent idea I could come up with was to bend down and look up her skirt. And so, I bent down on humble knee, in prayer to this goddess. I felt my chin scrunch a little bit as I nodded my head.

“Nice” I thought, to her zebra leopard print thong. It was about this point that I heard an unbelievable shrieking. It was so obnoxious that it took me a second to decode what was being said.

“DOUCHE BAG! DOUCHE BAG!” I heard repeated over and over in a speed and pitch that should not have been used together. Hmm, I thought, I hope this shrieking doesn’t have anything to do with me, as I lifted my head slowly I saw the end of a finger, attached to an arm, held by a girl, pointing at me, and yelling “DOUCHE BAG!”.

“What?” I asked, refusing to believe that the jig was up.
“You were totally looking up my friends skirt!”
“What? No, I just dropped something.”

I found out later that while I was managing to keep a straight face, the gaping jaws of my friends who could not believe what they were witnessing was completely betraying my ability to play this one off. The bouncer bore witness to this whole event with the stalwart manor that only someone who works at night could muster. As I went up the steps, I handed him my ID.
“You really think you’re going to get in here now?”
“Yeah.” I said without the slightest hint of pomp.
“You’re going to leave her alone right?”
“Yeah.” I parroted again.
“Alright. Go on in”. He said, handing my ID.
“You know it was totally worth it right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was.”

Why Don’t We Toast?

The other night while drinking and telling lies with a friend, the tenuous topic of toasts came up. A toast is a rare thing anymore, and those who do say more than one word before guzzling down drinks frequently do it in a language besides English. I think we need to change this. From the 1880’s to just after prohibition, toasting was an obsession in America, much like the drinks that went along with them. I’m a firm believer that a well placed toast can inspire, lead, and thoroughly entertain.

The Origins of Toasting

The ancient Greeks used to perform “libations”. In modern day, you may have heard this term to refer to an alcoholic beverage. In reality, a libation is an alcoholic beverage, but one that is being offered to the Gods. The word, though often used by seekers of pretense, actually implies a great deal of humor about the drinks at hand. The ancient Greek custom was to stand up with both arms and cup raised to the sky, and pray. After the prayer was complete, the wine was consumed.

Where Do We Get The Word “Toast” From?

The English term ‘Toast’, comes from the practice of putting a piece of burnt toast into wine. Why would anyone taint good wine with burnt toast? Wine wasn’t always the delicious highly refined beverage it was today. Often times, especially in ancient Rome, wine was acidic, and difficult to drink. The story goes that because of a rash of poisonings in Greek and then Roman society, before dinner they would dip a piece of bread into the communal wine glass, showing the guests that the evening would be a safe one. The honored guest would get to eat the bread, and drink the last sip of wine, which was generally considered to be the best tasting. This lead to the discovery that putting a piece of charred bread into wine could help balance out the acidic flavors, and thus became customary at the start of the meal to say a few words and raise glasses.

5 Drinking Toasts You Need To Know

The Fighter Pilots Toast

(Feel free to swap out “Flying” for any number of fun verbs that fit there. Drinking works particularly well)

Here’s to me in my sober mood
When I ramble, sit and think
Here’s to me in my drunken mood
When I gamble, sin and drink

But when my flying days are over
And from this world I pass
I hope they bury me upside down
So the world can kiss my ass.

Three

In my room there were three,
You, my light and drunken me.
Three’s a crowd, there’s no doubt.
So I turned that fucker out!

1..2..3

Here’s to being single…
Drinking doubles…
And seeing triple!

Best Friends

My friends are the best friends,
Loyal, willing and able,
Now let’s get to drinking!
All glasses off the table!

To Me…

Here’s to the women we’ve met,
and the women we’ve fucked,
And to those amongst us who’ve had no such luck
Here’s to beer in the glass
and vodka in the cup.
Here’s to poking her in the ass
so she wont get knocked up.
Here’s to all of you and here’s to me,
together as friends we’ll always be.
But if we should ever disagree, then FUCK ALL OF YOU, HERE’S TO ME!
(Popularized by Tucker Max)