I would have guessed canister vacuum cleaner. 
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I bet he's running ananicy-cpp
Arch-2-D2?
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The trash can percent might be true because he sure did know how to shut down all the trash compactors on the detention level, lol.
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That is so true. I forgot about that, too funny.
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Ah, so you like @SGS artwork also. Primo.
Themes ain't bad, either.
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Differences....
So let me get this straight, are you intimating that Gnome isn't exactly user centric? 
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There's no such thing as a Gnome curse, right?
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I'm glad that I use Openbox. 
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I gotta give Openbox another go. Haven't used it since the Crunchbang days when I really got into conky.
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Just for sh1ts and giggles, I give you:
The Chili........
I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that
course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had
prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'You're definitely going to $h!t yourself' chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat the next day both of your *** cheeks WILL fall off.
Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No 'Watson's Movement 2'. Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.
Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.
Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about I'm
referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.
The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was
afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction
would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she
walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different
directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at
least will be able to relate.
I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. Mistake.
Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down', if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.
Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal as*plosion took place.
Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the
inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the toilet seat because my *** is
burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, 'Sono$*%#%!', then quickly left.
Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart
intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.'
That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The
employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Krogers. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store...
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I've done something nearly as humiliating in real life. Unfortunately, devoid of humor, I can only state the facts as I saw them.
- The beer was bad.
It was a farm kid beer bash held in the basement of a parents farmhouse. All those in attendance were under the legal age of 21 but over 14. In Kansas, you could legally drive a farmtruck during harvest at age10 back then (as long as you could see over the steering wheel), farm kids were tough, and a few beers here and there was no big deal. I was 20, just back from a year at war, and could drink my weight in piss water. But not skunked beer, apparently. Some farm kid didn't know any better and brought a case or three of it. And at some point during that evening I quit caring.
- It involved a friend.
Self-owning in front of a stranger is bad enough. With a friend--well, you just lose all of your cool points. It's even worse when you have to share a bed with that buddy because the party was 50 miles away and you both stayed at his girlfriend's parents house. And share a bed (ick).
Self-owning in front of a buddy by hopping out of bed in just underwear, saying "watch this" while lifting you right leg intending to let loose a massive beer-fart--and then massively shitting yourself...
- It involved a girl.
Doesn't it always? And not even my girlfriend, but my buddy's. And I forgot to swear him to secrecy. So about as soon as my buddy's girlfriend got wind (so to speak) of The Great Shitting it was pretty damn hard to avoid the gossip machine. And you know what that mighty force is capable of. My name was shit among the local fems for quite some time.
No shit.
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What the f*ck did i just see 
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And it can't be unseen. In hindsight, it is pretty much how I felt when using (mostly waiting to build) Gentoo. 
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