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A shot from the day job. XYZ Machine Tools unveiled its new five-axis machining centre to the assembled engineering press on Thursday. This is a demonstration of the speed of its rotary c-axis, which can rotate at up to 90 revs/min with a 600kg load on the table.
Another alternate build of 44018 Furno Jet Machine which I built on a whim. This one is not as different from the original set as Furno Handler Machine, but it still has a nice, imposing physique so I went ahead and took photos. This model uses all of Furno Jet Machine's pieces, excluding spares.
Florence and the Machine live at The Civic Hall, Wolverhampton - 11th May 2010
Photographer: Bianca Barrett
Photographed for Gig Junkies. Read about the gig here... www.gigjunkies.com
57002 Pretending to be a 90's Pete Waterman lined black Duff at Bury
ELR East Lancashire Railway Diesel Gala 04/07/2025
I visited The Amuri Museum of Workers' Housing yesterday with my mom. I've been there a couple of times before, but it was the first time for my mom.
These photos are from the bakery and the bakery shop from the 1930's. I love those old cookie tins. It's the legendary Hangon keksi, Cookie of Hanko. Hanko is the most southern town in Finland. We have this old saying "Hymyilee kuin Hangon keksi" - "Smiles like the Cookie of Hanko". If you look closely, you can see a smiling cookie on both tins. The thing in the last photo of the mosaic is a dough making machine.
About the museum
The museum comprises five dwelling houses and their outbuildings dating from the 1880's and 1890's. This means 32 dwellings, the oldest dating from 1882 and the most recent from 1973, and a number of small shops. There's also this lovely café & the museum's shop, Amurin Helmi (Pearl of Amuri).
History
Amuri grew at the same time as the industrialisation on the shores of the Tammerkoski rapids. At the turn of the 1900's there were about 5000 people living in the wooden housing quarters. A speciality of these houses was the kitchen system. A typical communal kitchen stove had four separate fireplaces so that four housewives could make their coffee and porridge at the same time. Normally there were four chambers around the kitchen, one for each family. The owner of the house usually had a couple of chambers at their disposal. There was a stable and an outside lavatory in the yard. Water pipes and sewers were already fitted in Amuri by 1895. Water was collected from the outer wall of the house and returned to the "hold". There were several public saunas in Amuri.
This is my friend David, posing sheepishly with an open-air broad-daylight porno magazine vending machine in a main street in Sakado (if I remember correctly), Saitama, Japan...
I think it fits the "Only In Japan" niche quite well, though I did recently see a vending machine for bestseller novels at London's Heathrow airport...
This is another shot from the archives but pre-digital - shot on my old trusty Nikon FE and scanned in store at time of processing. It's a little too contrasty if you ask me, but I suppose I could tweak that... Another project for when there is time... Circa 2003
At Johannesburg in 1996. I saw but did not photograph this machine when I was there the previous year.
Scan of a Kodachrome slide in my collection - not my own image.)
quote It is a lesser crime to call ones mother a whore than to call the sacred tool of tattooing a GUN. from left to right Lauro Paolini basic liner- chinese liner- machine-1st generation swash drive-trusty ol faithful NZ built shader- chinese 5 mag shader-Damascus hand wrapped coil machine-and 1st generation jack hammer pulse matic machine for 39 mag shading Ive learnt that even a cheap machine will still perform well with care and proper maintainence a machine is only as good as the hand that wields it :-) and yes these are my machines I use
During World War II, the Germans used the Enigma, a cipher machine, to develop nearly unbreakable codes for sending messages. The Enigma's settings offered 150,000,000,000,000,000,000 possible solutions, yet the Allies were eventually able to crack its code. By end of the war, 10 percent of all German Enigma communications were decoded at Bletchley Park, in England, on the world’s first electromagnetic computers.
For more information on CIA history and this artifact please visit www.cia.gov
It seems this cute little machine was made by the National Sewing Machine Company from Illinois, and sold by Regal.
(continued from previous pic)
So... yeah. I took a job at this big, weird hotel in the mountains. I'd never had a job before... unless you count picking fruit or chopping wood or babysitting. I'd never put in an eight-hour shift, or worn a uniform, or anything like that... just ad hoc jobs around the farm and with our neighbours.
I chose this place because it offered room and board. Which gave it an "all-inclusive get away from home and live on your own instantly" allure. Plus they were willing to accept young girls who had no experience.
I guess I should've heard some alarms when they asked for a full-length colour photo.
They said it was related to the uniforms... you know... so they could make sure they had the right fit when we arrived. I never sent a photo. They hired me anyway. So I thought maybe it would all be cool.
My sister's boyfriend drove me there... along a dark twisting narrow highway with sheer cliffs rising up on one side... and sheer drops down to railroad tracks and creepy green bottomless lakes on the other. My driver was seriously into drugs, and got me extraordinarily high. And then he just deposited me... with the suitcase I'd got from my parents as a combination birthday/highschool graduation gift a few weeks earlier... and there I was, peaking and freaking, looking down the long dark hall of this hotel.
It WAS The Shining, absolutely.
And it would only get weirder and creepier from there.
Almost all the staff were girls in their mid-teens to early 20s. We were dispatched to various jobs based entirely on our looks.
The hottest babes... the best looking, with the largest breasts... got the plummiest job, which was working in the dining room. Short hours, big tips, basically a paid vacation. (Though it did, apparently.... based on what I witnessed... involve having sex with the boss of bosses on the tables after hours... but I didn't know that then.)
The next-hotttest girls got to work in the gift shop. Which was the second-plummiest job.
Those of us with non-descript looks and/or flat chests went to work in the cafeteria. And those who were overweight, or graphically pimpled, or otherwise considered unsightly by the overlords... those girls worked in housekeeping.
My first day in the cafeteria was sort of like a dress rehearsal for hell. It started with the uniform... a brown polyester wrap-around skirt (one size fits all)... over a stretchy white turtleneck bodysuit... also polyester, with snaps at the crotch. Empty, these turtlenecks were roughly the size of a glove. With a female body inside, they strained to the point of near transparency... and I spent the first hour of my shift being sent back to my room... three times... because the t-shirts I was wearing underneath were deemed to undermine the sense of uniformity.
Then there was the work itself. The cafeteria mainly served Greyhound bus passengers. And part of my job was to stand at a steam table, ladeling out great slippery masses of god-knows-what to grey-faced people who shuffled through the line like penitents.
Between buses, there were the joys of industrial dishwashing... table cleaning... window washing... floor wiping... and the scraping of gum off all kinds of surfaces... along with whatever else had stuck.
By the time I had my first break, my feet were sore, my back ached, I hated my employers and I'd made up my mind that I was absolutely going to pursue some kind of higher education.
On my fourth day, my boss sat me down to tell me how completely unsatisfactory my work was. He gave me two choices - quit/get fired... or go work in the gas station.
The gas station! Wow. I was like Brer Rabbit... and the gas station (part of the same operation, but separated by a big asphalt parking lot) was my own personal briar patch.
Working at the gas station meant no uniform! I could wear my own jeans and t-shirts!
It meant no steam table, no dirty dishes... I could work outside in the fresh clean air!
So I made the switch. Changed jobs. Moved from the room I'd shared with seven other girls in the scary hotel to a room above the gas station, which I shared with eight or nine guys and one other (very cool) chick. Things were okay until the mudslides came... and cut us off from the rest of the world.
Those big slides took out bridges and completely covered the highway on either side of us. They took days to clear and... in the meantime... with no tourists, no traffic of any kind.... there really wasn't much for us to do in terms of work. So we drank. At the hotel bar. Almost all of us way underaged. And drinks were on the house. And I drank rye. And so did my boss from the gas station.
He and his girlfriend were both year-rounders.... part of the regular skeleton crew that kept things going through the long cold winters... travelling from building to building via snow tunnels. On this particular night, I was sitting between them in the hotel bar... and it was some uncomfortable.
In one ear, she was telling me about their relationship, and just how great it was, and how she was thinking they might get married, and how she'd like a couple of kids.
In the other ear, he was asking, flat out: "So... when are you coming home with me?"
I waited till she went to the bathroom, and then lit into him with muted drunken fury.
He didn't take it well and gave me an ultimatum: Have sex with him that night, or I was fired.
Um, nice choice.
My response was of course "You can't fire me, I quit!" And I did. Right then... at 2am.
I stomped back to the gas station... and packed up my stuff... and then came back to the hotel where I made the rounds... pounding on all the bosses' doors and telling them exactly what I thought of them.
It all felt pretty good (in that stupid, drunken way) until I realized... ulp! There was no way out of there!!!
I spent an odd, uneasy few hours in the dark... pacing up and down outside the gas station... waiting for news of the highway reopening.
It came shortly after dawn and I was on the first bus... and that, my friends, was the end of that.
I never went back there (although I've driven past). And I never drank rye again. And... yeah... I never again applied for a job where they asked for a full-length colour photo.