Ghost Mountains Discovered in Antarctica

What is a ghost mountain?I hear you ask behind your plates and cups of domestic birth. Well by ghost mountains I mean a mountain range that is hidden beneath ice. They are estimated to be as large as the Alps. Fausto Ferraccioli of the British Antarctic Survey in Cambridge, England said "These are the least understood mountain ranges on Earth...It is as exciting as exploring another planet." He added "The whole [mountain range] was encased in ice and literally preserved in the deep freeze," The image above used as a handout by the British Antarctic Survey is a 3-D image of the ghost mountains named the Gamburtsev Mountains after their discover in 1952 by Soviet geophysicist Grigoriy A. Gamburtsev.

A seven nation project that ran between 2007-2009 mapped out the subglacial topography of central East Antarctica via two Twin Otter aircraft that were befitted with super cool radar and sensors to map out the changes over time in Earth's gravitational and magnetic field. Whats more they discovered that "the East Antarctic rift system resembles one of the geological wonders of the world, the East African rift system...It provides the missing piece of the puzzle that helps explain the Gamburtsev Subglacial Mountains. The rift system was also found to contain the largest subglacial lakes in Antarctica." And if that wasn't enough Wow for your Wowsies, they are estimated to be 35 million year old, take that Granpa!. Mountains 1 Granpa 0.

First Photographic Evidence Of The Giant Wooly Alpaca Slug

This stunning photograph was snapped in the depths of a Bolivian jungle last month.

Sex in the Suburbs 6: Girls Of My Dreams Part 2 (Enter the Friday)

It's late at night, it's late at night, it's Friday yeah Friday Friday Friday... the girl of my dreams, the girl on the billboard is far from me now, when I stare at period blood stain on the wall, all I can think of is cancer, down an alley running at me, anally penetrating me till my brains are an afterglow of burning red traffic light , siphoning the moonlight with red blotches of karma.

I pick up some meds on the way, my sister is in a good mood so she gives me a lot of them, she tells me the kids now call these things by nicknames such as school kippers and fruit horses. I get lucky with a girl who is hanging out outside the putrid Supermacs. She burbs into my tongue when I try French kiss her. The wear and tear of the night has pushed her red lipstick to her chin and all the way up to the North Pole of her forehead. Making her look like a clown who is wearing a reindeer costume. The thought of a clown reindeer makes me want to fuck her right there doggy style.

I bring the girl home, she undresses, I undresses, she whimpers, I whimpers, I turn the mirror around, she disappears, I turn the mirror again, she is back. I play the flute as a sexual mating call that tribes in Africa do. I learned the tune from one of those National Geographic channels. You always learn stuff from those channels, definitely worth the extra few euro .

A drunken, collapsed colony on the left side of my brain struggles to grasp the complexity of the condom thermoplastic, I am a couple of attempts away from saving a baby from surfacing on this earth, where the warmth of love is calcified by the coldness of our bodies, rubbing together like glaciers off the Atlantic drift. I straggle along the coast of her body, I feel like a heat waiting to unwrap globules of puss and melt her cortex.

Half my body feels like it has drifted from the prenatal spirit. Fuck I think-something feels weird, its almost like she didn't know how to fuck, then again drunk whores usually fuck badly, like if a pilot swallowed Charlie Sheen's penis and brain whole and stir fried them with a blot of mercury chutney and tried to fly over the Rocky mountains with one hand. Damn she looks hot, a bit like Rebecca Black.

She mumbles something about been 14 years old before laughing wickedly like she knows what this means, I tell her to shut the fuck up unless she wants me to fuck her mouth, she quickly changes her tone.  Fuck that Yeats married a 14 year old you- think I care slut I think while I am on top of her and inside of her all at the same time, it is exhilarating, talk more bitch, I say. I realize this dirty bitch turns me on, she calls me a cunt, and I feel as hard as an intrusive, felsic, igneous rock.

High intensity palpations in erogenous zones, little desire to live into daylight, fuck daylight. Is she done, has she got her god damn precious orgasm yet?  Fuck her I roll off and out of her, I don't care anymore, I've stopped enjoying it since I've come, so no longer will I dig my grave inside of her.

Graves, graves, Friday, fucking Friday, how much longer until God puts me out of this misery, maybe a molotov cocktail next Friday  instead of  the usual Mojito or Sex on the Beach, the Grim Reaper can fuck my butt hole until the beach runs red with my broken dreams.