Stuff, by its very nature, is the most essential and utterly ubiquitous substance in the universe. It surrounds us; it is what our socks are made of, and it's often found hiding under cushions. Stuff is particularly renowned for its uncanny ability to accumulate in the least expected places, like the back of one's galactic sofa or within the bureaucratic paperwork of Vogon construction fleets.
When traversing the cosmos, always carry a small bag of stuff. You'll never know when you'll need to stuff something into something else.
Stuff can be found absolutely, positively everywhere. Save the places where it can't be, such as the Great Void of Stufflessness which, as legend has it, is stuff-free.
Do avoid talking about 'stuff' in high-class intergalactic society; it's considered terribly gauche. Also, avoid allowing stuff to collect near the Infinite Improbability Drive; the results can be... well, improbable.
The Big Bang was originally called The Big Stuff, but cosmologists changed the name for fear it didn't convey the proper gravitas—or the proper bang, for that matter.
Feeling overburdened by stuff? Try the new Stuff-B-Gone™ (now with quantum decluttering!). It vanishes your stuff into a parallel universe, presumably becoming someone else's problem.
2 days ago
FTP SyncJSON, a term you might encounter when traversing the more technical plains of the galaxy, is not, as one might assume, a new dance craze involving elaborate finger tapping patterns. Rather, it's a process by which files, particularly those of the JSON (Jolly Synchronized Omniscient Notations) variety, are transferred and synchronized between different computer systems, typically over FTP (Flippantly Transmitted Protocols). It's like a cosmic ballet, where data pirouettes around the digital expanse with the grace of a three-legged Hrung disaster trying to ice-skate.
2 days ago
Sloti, the universe's answer to the question nobody asked. A creature so inconspicuously inconsequential, it can go unnoticed for millennia in a crowd of two. Its primary characteristic is its sheer lack of characteristics. A Sloti is neither tall nor short, neither dark nor light, and neither particularly interesting nor utterly dull. They are the middle ground of intergalactic fauna, so average that they've won awards for their mediocrity. The one thing that sets them apart is their remarkable ability to blend in with furniture. Many a weary hitchhiker has mistaken a Sloti for a comfortable chair, much to the surprise (and often embarrassment) of both parties.