A tiny little town in south devon where everyone knows and has probably slept with everyone by the age of 15 which is made up of...
1. ASDA
2. Charity shops
3. Old people 4. Chavs
5. Skaters
6. Pubs
and..... that's about it
The deadliest son-of-a-bitch in space, as defined by an unnamed Gunnery Chief on the Citadel in Mass Effect 2.
Every five seconds the main gun of an Everest-class dreadnought accelerates one to 1.3 percent of light speed. It impacts with the force of a 38-kiloton bomb. That is three times the yield of the city-buster dropped on Hiroshima back on Earth. That means, Sir Isaac Newton was the deadliest son-of-a-bitch in space.
Sister: This meeting was to discuss the rough draft of my essay, where we discussed the subsidiary questions I added in my rough draft. We also discussed the relationship between my main title and the real-life situations I chose to use in my essay. We discussed the structure of my essay as well, specifically the Math AOK section and how it relates to the contradiction of the title. This second meeting was particularly helpful in discussing the implications of my essay claims and how to apply the title across various areas of knowledge. There were many sections of the essay that could have been cut down in wordiness and the ways of knowing required further and more in-depth analysis.
An absolutely foolproof way to keep minors from viewing content deemed "too mature" for them to watch.
Billy: "So I was trying to watch some videos for an M rated game, and I ran into an age gate, so I put in my real birthday. SOMEHOW it managed to figure out that I am 12. CURSE YOU AGE GATE!!!"
Bill: "Fucking age gate! *quick scroll* THERE! I was born on January 1, 1904. Fuck you age gate."
A)
The Crud that collects under the keys in a keyboard. Usually more severe in the keyboards of programmers and webmasters as they tend to spend a lot of time at the the computer and thus eat at their desk. Mainly affecting IBM Model M (clicly) style boards.
B)
Can also be used to gross out Non-Techie people
A)
Bill: want to go to the club?
Bob: No, I've got to clean out my board chow, keys are starting to stick.
B)
Bill: Want to go out to get a bite?
Bob: No, i am just going to have some of my board chow/
Bill: Whats' that?
Bob: The food scraps that collect in my keyboard; Want some?
Bill: *GAG* *HURL* *GAG*