Two Sided Rubber Ducky

Cookies
From the heart of Steve Higginson to you

Five to two at night

Week 49, 2008 (Saturday)

Cookies are absolutely amazing. When I say cookies, just to clear things up, I do mean actual cookies. Not the American term for biscuit, but one hundred percent actual cookies. Chocolate chips. Bits of nuts. Brand-name sweets. All of these things can be baked right into a cookie.

However, the most amazing part of all is that €1.20 will buy you two kinds of cookie in the TCDSU Shop. Type 1: The Irish Flapjack & Muffin Co. Cookie. This is about 3 inches in radius and comes in a variety of flavours including butterscotch and vanilla chocolate chip. Type 2: Cadbury Cookies Choc Chip. This is an entire box of cookies! At least two dozen 3/4 inch radius cookies for the same price as one larger cookie.

Some quick calculations:

Area of Type 1 Cookie: 3" * 3" * π = ~28.27 square inches

Area of a single Type 2 Cookie: 3/4" * 3/4" * π = ~1.76 square inches
Combined Area of Type 2 Cookies: ~42.41 square inches

This means that for the same low low price of €1.20, with the box of Cadbury Cookies you're getting around 50% extra cookie and chocolate. Not bad, eh?

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Thursday 8th November 2007 by Quinn Hughes

This is the most agreed upon and scientifically correct hot scale ever recorded. The scale ascends from 6-1 with only a few simple rules:

Never rate a girl to her face.
You can’t rate celebrities.
You do not talk about Fight Club.

1	Ones do not exist. They are purely a theoretical value based on the fact that no girl is perfect. An example is Angelina Jolie, she isn’t real, she’s a robot. Dave Quinn would do them.
2	You well would, the only question is, would she. An example would be the girl you’d like to marry someday, but you won’t cause you’re ugly and even though she’s not shallow everyone has their limit. Dave Quinn would do them.
3	You would if she would. But let’s face it, she probably wouldn’t. What you consider settling for second best, she considers it’s him or a lonely death. An example would be the best friend of the girl of your dreams, something in a Jennifer Garner model. Dave Quinn would do them.
4	You would but you wouldn’t want to, you’d want a few drinks to have an excuse. An example would be the girl pretty girls hang out with to make themselves feel better, the one the guys consider just one of the lads. Dave Quinn has done them.
5	If I drank two litres of absinth laced with Rohypnol, then maybe but I’d kill myself the next morning, with a blunt rock. An example would be the sort of girl who describes themselves as “bubbly” in the newspaper classifieds. Dave Quinn has done lots of them.
6	NEVER!! The phrase “I wouldn’t touch her with yours” comes to mind as do “Not if I was drugged” and “She’s ugly”. This girl hit every branch of the ugly tree on her way down before she ate the tree. When she was born there was no after-birth, she’d already eaten the entire placenta. An example would be Satan’s mother, Mary(no doubt a BESS student). Not even Dave Quinn would do them.

Researched by Cathair Whoren

The Truth About Tasher
Monday 19th February 2007 by Steve Higginson

Is that truely his shirt?

I was using Microsoft’s super fantastic instant messaging client, Windows Live Messenger, earlier on this evening. In particular, I was having a discussion with one Alan McGovern, regarding how great he claims to be. However, I know Alan well and I know when he’s lying (you’ll soon know how I knew). I then realised that the drivel he was spouting off to me was not something that he would only let me in on. He was obviously spreading these filthy lies about himself to others, claiming to be a great man and that Eric should be demoted below him. So herein lies the true truth about the true life of Alan “Tasher” McGovern.

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Kevin pretending to be drunk

Kevin Chegger was a normal man – well, as normal as any man gets. He went to college and studied commerce. He had a well paying job and a wonderful wife named Betty. She was pregnant with his son, who was to be born a month from when this story begins. The only thing that was in any way strange about Kevin Chegger was that he had never had a drink – not even a drop of alcohol. He had never even eaten anything that contained alcohol, like tiramisu or Betty’s mother’s ‘special porridge’.

Kevin never drank because of his parents. They spent his entire childhood instilling in him a fear of alcohol. They told him that it would ruin his life, that he’d never have a proper job or any friends if he was to give in to the bottle. They told him that it was addictive and he would spiral out of control with even a nanolitre of alcohol in his body....

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This Spot just won't leave

“Out, damned spot; out I say. One, two, - why, then ‘tis time to do’t. Hell is murky.”

“Oh shut up, you silly cow!” I muttered.

As I lay in the bath listening to that vacuous fool rehearse her Lady Macbeth I thought about why I hadn’t moved elsewhere. If I wasn’t listening to her pick her way painfully through Shakespeare, I was waiting for her to finish on the phone or in the bathroom. If I had a penny to my name I probably would move out. As it was I was broke and she was too stupid and rich to think about making money.

I could hear her pacing the floor above the bathroom. She used the third story; of the house her uncle had left her, as a rehearsal space. This meant that anyone unfortunate enough to be on the second floor had to listen to the inane racket she called rehearsing....

A Man Walks into a Bar
Friday 25th August 2006 by Steve Higginson

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“Can I get a pint of Heineken, please?” Edward asked.

Terry nodded and grabbed a clean pint glass. He put it under the Heineken tap and pulled the lever to begin the flow of lager. Terry stared off towards a painting hanging at the other side of the pub while Edward watched carefully his golden liquid flowing into the glass.

“That’ll be four sixty,” Terry told Edward as he put the pint down in front of him.

Edward handed the barman a ten euro note. Terry turned and went to the bar’s till. He entered the price of the beverage and then the amount of cash tendered to him....

The Y Conference
Monday 21st August 2006 by Steve Higginson

The letter in question?

Over 2,500 linguists and English language specialists from around the world gathered this week to decide if the letter Y is a vowel, a consonant or both. The letter has hovered in character limbo for years and linguists finally want to set in stone its status. Oxford professor Jeremy Langdon attended the conference. “We had to decide once and for all what exactly Y was. Teachers across the globe have been giving conflicting answers over the years as to whether it’s a vowel or consonant and we have to set the record straight.”

For those unsure of what the debate is all about, the letter Y is used as a consonant in hundreds of words, such as ‘you’ and ‘yoghurt’. However, it is used in other words, like ‘my’ and ‘fry’ as a vowel. Clearly there is a lot of confusion over what the letter should be defined to be....