Gmaes Where U Can Get Pregnant

Lupita

When I arrived UPIITA (Professional Unit Interdisciplinary Engineering and Advanced Technologies) for 4 years, Give or take, there were three buildings, copy and paste of ESCOM: North, South, and the Laboratory, the three clustered at the corner of a huge empty grassy yellow, packs of dogs and the occasional fog Chiquihuite down the hill, whose towering Presence dawn delayed an hour. The name of the school you knew by a sign oxidized and depressing, placed next to a door that never opened. To enter the school had to walk through a dark alley, bordered by willows, to the police box where they also entered cars.


A ESCOM building. Photo of Don CUPT .


ESCOM A building painted pink ... I say, a building UPIITA. Photo of Mario Garcia .

horrors Understand that depressed me. Little bit by my circumstances (new school, new partners, romance recently broken into pieces), which were destabilizing in themselves, and little bit for the environment so ... inhospitable. During my first ... two semesters or so UPIITA, I spent half bad. I felt cheated, first because the career I chose was not what I thought, second because the school was not, but nowhere near, so he sold, and third because ... fuck, this was not what I expected from "My academic career." He had lived

dreaming "Race." Not only as a formality, but as the time of my life when I would party every week, learn new things every time, would meet interesting people, would get involved in wonderful projects ... chale, I do not know what was going through my head. You thought I was getting at MIT, or what the hell? UPIITA When I arrived, my first impression was that it was the high school, second part. I had my first "teacher" (ha!) Actually bad, ever, more task left me in vocation, which left me less time for partying, the subjects were all Lelas, as a course of adjustment ... Arrghh, encourages me to remember. Did not know what to make of despair, and all I wanted was to run. A ESCOM, career Telematics, to wherever. The arrepentidota of my life. Then I went

overcome. I relaxed, I started to have better classes and better teachers. I went to my first "congress" (protoingenieros lying on the floor, unconscious from alcohol, fuck, yeah! ). I met Elizabeth, and became boyfriends. discovered Control Theory. Anyway, all improved, and although it is not MIT, UPIITA out better than I thought (though nowhere near as good as it should be.)

And as my situation improved, the school improved. The Chiquihuite still turn a blind in the morning and low fog in the winter time, but took the fucking depressing sign, opened the front door, lawn care obsessively built a new building (classrooms, as if we have enough students for our laboratoritos fucking ), and planted trees. In the vacant super back, where there were herons, snakes and tigers of Bengal made sports fields (which the bastards closed exam week "so as not to distract") and can pass UPIBI (see girls, jijijiji). They made a digital electronics lab (with some expensive equipment that does not serve anyone of anything, but also with others that are of little mom and dealing a lot.) Anyway, I got wool, medium to fool sometimes but as wool was needed.

But again my enthusiasm declines. On a personal level, dynamite another romance. At school, since last semester, the materials were put aburridonas half, but he spent another spear. I began to reflect, and three semesters of Mechatronics almost disappeared "practice" of my life. Everything is either computer (and even that soooo little), or pure lecture to bald. And not so theoretical, because we deepen ... rather it is like, pure practical, but just platicadito. Except, of course, the kind of "manufacturing processes", where I learned to use a CNC milling machine and lathe. But as I accumulated just 15 minutes from experience, because there was only a lathe and CNC milling machine. It was hilarious to see the lines of people formed to sharpen their chisels in the wheel. Also, my friends of other races less cutting and less "advanced" (which perhaps is like saying "more sensible") have been completed, graduates this week or next, and while they earn stratospheric amounts of money I derrocharé these same quantities in the "Work Terminal".

(No, I will not die. It is a kind of prototype that I have to do to graduate, where he applied everything I learned.)

And of course, always timely, the school works with my depression. It turns out that last fall they decided to build a new building. I went in TWICE as above. Classroom is, Which Means More students, Which Means less cob. And this semester, we had to build. Cursed

building sucks! (Phrase which, incidentally, I cried yesterday afternoon for the whole school heard me loud and clear. Will they believe that no one flinched? Is it normal to cry impromperios from the balcony?). For starters, the floor (I think that the floor if the walls would give me fear) is all out of square. Tubes ... "Ventilation? "Cables? They are not hidden, but self-satisfied cross floor to ceiling in two corners of each room. The rooms are all different sizes. There is a bathroom where a urinal is 40 cm of soil, go to another to see if it is better, and is 20 cm. The doors open outwards and have a "cap" not to open beyond 90 ° ... in first week, the wind had broken the bottom of all doors of the building, crashing to force their limits. The same is the vidriecitos of the mentioned doors. There is a space where more or phenomenon can be a child. between the steps and the wall of the staircase. The goddamn the WiFi antenna is oriented toward the plaza, which was already covered, so the network disconnects the sad living facility. You get the picture .

But on Monday broke the proverbial glass. It turns out that it rained.

Since they were doing the building, do not beat me to dig so deep. But hey, I do not know a mother of Civil Engineering, and I thought surely the foundations had to be sooo deep. But ... nope. The building is considerably lower than the surrounding terrain. I guess never thought it would not rain, or were very chiles with its drainage system do not know. The fact is that the weekend is flooded! and that's not the worst, no, dear reader, because after all water is removed and now. The problem is that the wiring is screwed up, and no light in the building. There will not be for a week, although we will . Zero projector. Zero laps, or computers for that matter (star to computer dudes who always put the laboratories on the first floor, lest anything happen to teams on the ground low). Zero to see what the hell the teacher writes on the board during the first class ( Chiquihuite, remember? .) And yes, I play mamonazo tomorrow morning we will teach as usual. I wish you luck.

Finally, today I was better not. I'm tired. Nothing more needed to year, would be a suck get out, but still a year away, Know What I Mean? . Outta here!

Or plant more trees. It worked last time.

Ice Cream Hair Dye Without Oxidizing

# chingasatumadre

The whole story, the voice of The Leader Movement, here. If

were permitted marriage between men and twitter accounts, I would marry the Lilian.

Finally, we needed to know who tweeted the hashtag (so called to be preceded by a # Words do ... is like a "marker" of the item in your twit) # chingasatumadre.

Well, you can search in the search hashtag twitter:



And then review each outcome, by hand, over a million years.

NOT!

This is a job for Python!

(From here, the post gets technical. Plenty. Flee while you can).

Step 1, look for the Twitter API: An API is ... as a series of instructions that the manufacturer or supplier of "something" gives you so you can control the "something" automatically from a program. Twitter is a (In those days, what "network" does not?): http://apiwiki.twitter.com

Step 2, look for the Python library to interact with the API: Using twitter API is half a mess. You need to visit certain Internet addresses, with the appropriate parameters for the "page" they will give you the results you want to be seen. Done from Python (my preferred programming language) is half a mess. Sure, I could write a small library of functions who abstracted this functionality, but ... Surely someone had already done. And yes, I found this gem: http://mike.verdone.ca/twitter/ .

Step 3, the program itself: The task is simple: Find all tweets that mention "# chingasatumadre" and make a list, without repetitions, of the users responsible. Easily solved with the following:

  # coding: utf-8  
 
  # The library to use the Twitter API from  
    import twitter Twitter  
 
  # indicates that only use the functionality of Search  
  # (To avoid loguearnos).  
 t_s  =  Twitter  ( domain  =   'search.twitter.com'  )  
 
  # Create a "set" to store users. A set  
  # does not support reps.  
 users   =  September ( )  
 
  # Small "cheat" to "compensate" the absence of do ... while in  
  # Python  
   results  = 100  
 p  = 1    
 
  # As long as one hundred results page  
   results while  =   =   100  :  
  p # Takes page of results (with a maximum of 100 per  
  # page) Search  chingas # chingasatumadre 
  =  t_s . Search   (q     = '# chingasatumadre'  , rpg     = 100  ,  page   + p =      1)  
  # Get a list of user names of those twits.  
  =   users [ Chin  [  'from_user'  ]   for  chin in  chingas   [  'results'  ]  ]  
  # Add them to all users (eliminating repetitions).  
  users. Update   (  users)  
  # How many results were on this page?  
  results len =     (  users)  
  # Advance the page number.  
  +   p =   1  
 
  # Finally, print the user names, each on one line,  
  # ignoring case.  
    print '\\ n'  .   join (sorted   ( users ,   key = unicode  .  lower )  )  
 

UPDATE: Error! p must be zero before the cycle. Sorry to those left out by my uselessness.

Step 4, the list Lilián Passing: Very easy, go to a pastebin service (as http://pastebin.com/ ) where we can paste any text and make it publicly available for some time. Very useful when you need help to fix a program, and I want to teach someone else on the Internet.

Voila! Kids, try it at home. Become addicted, and never do anything by hand again.

Midi-adapter Guitar Hero

a couple of months ago in Japanese class, we listened to the "conversations" in the textbook. One went something like this:

-Satou-san Are you OK?
-Ehhh, no, not quite. It gave me cold.
-Ohh, too bad. In the future, wash your hands when you get home, and so avoid getting sick.
"Thank you so I will.

had to repeat 30 times, because my colleagues did not understand. I thought it was very simple, although not usually hear it in the damn recorder cavernous rooms (I have problems with low frequencies.) Did not understand what the problem was. It

they heard everything perfectly, but did not trust their own ears because they saw the relationship between washing your hands when you get home and not get sick with the flu. P-fucking-lop!

of insurance are all inmates. Or dead.