(1) Mark of Fitness MF-81 Wristwatch Blood Pressure Monitor
Description: (click show to see it)
Torchlight danced as old Godrelka scratched on the door of the hut.
Behind her cowered the villagers, terrified and dangerous in their
fear, willing to do anything to banish it. Only the wizened Godrelka,
with her milky eye and her ancient walking stick, calmed them even long
enough to see if the rumors were true. What kind of baby had been born
behind this door?
The door swept open. Yanusz, the baby's
father, stood in the doorway, sweaty and defiant. "What do you
simpletons want? We've done nothing wrong. Don't you have better things
to do than to frighten young mothers and their babes?"
mutterings sizzled through the mob. Old Godrelka raised a liver-spotted
hand for quiet. "The mark, Yanusz. The wind says the baby has the mark.
We must see. We must know."
"You dare?" he bellowed,
staring the villagers in the eyes one by one, until they looked away in
angry shame. "You dare march to my home and demand to inspect my child,
like one of the Czar's oiled bureaucrats? You, Byorgy, who we fed from
our larder after you lost your finger to the wolverine's bite? You,
Tadausz, who lounged idly in the town square, drunk on nalavka, while
my wife helped your wife bring in the beet crop? Go to hell, or go home
to your pitiful lives, whichever is worse."
Godrelka spoke. "There is no need for anger, Yanusz. What must be done,
will be done. We are but servants of a higher will."
flash, Yanusz was holding a rifle, sweeping the barrel in an arc across
the mob. "Anyone who dares step forward - you too, you old crone -
dies!" But a soft voice behind him said, "No, Yanusz. Let them pass."
Yanusz looked uncertainly at his wife, then lowered the gun and stood
aside. They jostled in to find Tatyaba on the straw bed, cradling the
child by the glow of the fire.
As one, the mob inhaled. There it was, on the baby's wrist - the mark!
it wasn't the ugly demonic smear they were expecting. It was...beautiful.
Blue, white, and silver, it bore systolic and diastolic blood pressure
and pulse readings on a large, easy-to-read LCD. Godrelka crossed herself, muttered a prayer, and took the child's face in both hands, showering kisses on the sleeping cheeks.
Mark of Fitness," the old lady wept. "It has been foretold that a child
would arise capable of making one-touch blood-pressure readings and
saving up to 60 of them. This is the child. This is the mark. So
blessed, so auspicious. This calls for a celebration. You keep any
nalavka in the house, Yanusz?"
He did. And they danced all the night, in joy instead of anger. Such was the power of the Mark of Fitness.
Warranty: 5 year Mark of Fitness
Convenient and comfortable wristwatch monitor lets you save 60 readings
Clinically proven to display fast, accurate readings of systolic/diastolic blood pressure and pulse
Features one-touch operation and reads in about half the time of other traditional monitors
Large, digital liquid crystal easy-to-read display
Measures 3.8×3.9×3.6 inches (WxHxD); 8 ounces
100-percent latex free
Runs on two "AAA" batteries (not included).
In the box:
Mark of Fitness MF-81 blood pressure monitor
Plastic storage case
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Cool is the first time you hear A Tribe Called Quest on a cassette
that somebody's older brother made at college. Cool is saying "thanks
babe" as your girlfriend gives you a birthday mix. Cool is stuffing the
new Priest into your front jacket pocket, right next to your smokes and
a switchblade. Cool is knowing you don't need a keep case, you choose
a keep case. Cool is all that plastic rattling on your dash. Cool is
never buying the cd because you liked the solo better when the tape
stretched. Cool is knowing that if you cover up the hole you can record
H�sker D� over Donna Summer. Cool is living on after everybody says
it's time to die.
This shirt was designed by: <a href="http://www.myspace.com/kallwejt">Jan Kallwejt</a>,
a designer from Poland, the country that is the Velvet Underground of
standing up to the Soviet Union, and sometimes has winters that get to
twenty below zero. That's cool.
Wear this shirt: with a chain wallet and jeans while your buddy takes a black and white photo.
Don't wear this shirt:
around the guy who sells old 8-tracks at the local flea market. He's
still a little sensitive about the day Todd Rundgren stopped being
This shirt tells the world: "Eight? Eight? I forgot what eight was for!"
We call this color: Adjectiveless Black. Laconic is cool.
3X - M: 9" x 7.42"
S-WS: 6.75" x 5.56"
Like liquid leprechauns, these 500 mL bottles are smaller than the human norm, and you've got to act fast if you want to catch them. They'll be off this page by midnight Wednesday night/Thursday morning, to be replaced by another wine deal.
Men cannot live by entrees
alone. (Maybe women can, but they're a lot tougher than men anyway.)
When the last bit of gravy has been sopped from the plate, when the big
platter in the middle of the table holds nothing but bones, one's
tastes turn to the sweet side. The long run-on sentence of dinner
requires a sugary exclamation point. That's why, at long last, we're
wheeling out the dessert cart with this four-pack of Chaucer's Dessert
These two bottles of Chaucer's Olallieberry Wine
boast a pedigree almost as interesting as their elegantly rich, natural
fruit flavors. What do you get when you cross a blackberry and a
raspberry? A loganberry. What do you get when you cross a blackberry
and a Texas dewberry? A youngberry. What do you get when you cross a
loganberry and a youngberry? An olallieberry, named after a word used
by Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest for - you guessed it -
"berry". It gets its flavor from its blackberry ancestors. But compared
to the blackberry, the olallieberry is freakishly large (like another
Pacific-coast Barry we could mention) and a little sweeter. Not that
you need to know any of this to enjoy the wine. We just wanted to
reassure you that the olallieberry isn't some eugenic abomination
created from enzymes in a test tube.
Ever try to eat a
pomegranate? Then you'll know why we prefer to get our pom on in liquid
form. It's a lot easier to sip the brilliant ruby-colored nectar in
these two bottles of Chaucer's Pomegranate Wine than to wrestle with
those accursed seeds. These particular anti-oxidant powerhouses were
picked from the arid precincts of the southern San Joaquin Valley, and
delicately pressed without macerating the rinds or seeds. And if you've
every had your rind macerated, you know just how that can ruin your
day. Silky meets spunky in this refined, acidic dessert wine - it's
mindblowing with everything from baked Alaska to Ho-Ho's.
them straight, or with a splash of sparkling wine, or in a cobbler.
They're up for pretty much whatever. Both of these after-dinner
charmers are made of 100% real fruit, with nary a grain of Kool-Aid or
splash of NutraSweet. We love a hearty meal as much as any linebacker,
but when it's time for the real fireworks of dessert, we're lighting
the fuse with the Chaucer Dessert Wine Four-Pack.
Chaucer's Olallieberry Wine
Orchard Source:Mello-Dy Farms, Watsonville, California