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Cup Printing Equipment





cup printing equipment






    equipment
  • The necessary items for a particular purpose

  • A tool is a device that can be used to produce or achieve something, but that is not consumed in the process. Colloquially a tool can also be a procedure or process used for a specific purpose.

  • The act of equipping, or the state of being equipped, as for a voyage or expedition; Whatever is used in equipping; necessaries for an expedition or voyage; the collective designation for the articles comprising an outfit; equipage; as, a railroad equipment (locomotives, cars, etc.

  • an instrumentality needed for an undertaking or to perform a service

  • The process of supplying someone or something with such necessary items

  • Mental resources





    printing
  • reproduction by applying ink to paper as for publication

  • A single impression of a book

  • text handwritten in the style of printed matter

  • the business of producing printed material for sale or distribution

  • The production of books, newspapers, or other printed material

  • Handwriting in which the letters are written separately rather than being joined together





    cup
  • Form (one's hand or hands) into the curved shape of a cup

  • form into the shape of a cup; "She cupped her hands"

  • a small open container usually used for drinking; usually has a handle; "he put the cup back in the saucer"; "the handle of the cup was missing"

  • Place the curved hand or hands around

  • Bleed (someone) by using a glass in which a partial vacuum is formed by heating

  • put into a cup; "cup the milk"











cup printing equipment - Sublimation Heat




Sublimation Heat Transfer Press Machine - for Coffee / Latte Mug Usage- Model PRO-160X


Sublimation Heat Transfer Press Machine - for Coffee / Latte Mug Usage- Model PRO-160X



This commercial-grade wrap around heat press from American Specialty Tool includes 2 elements that allow you to create custom coffee and latte mugs. Heating element sizes are 11oz. coffee mug (3" - 3.5" diameter) and 12oz. latte mug (4.75" diameter). Includes a heavy-duty integrated cradle that measures 10.25" x 5.5" to use with the two heating elements. Elements are non-stick and Teflon-coated to prevent transfers from scorching and do not require a separate silicone/Teflon sheet. An adjustable tension screw allows you to adjust the pressure accordingly for accurate pressure and clean transfers. Digital temperature control lets you preset the temperature; the element will stop heating when the preset temperature is reached. A digital timer with an audible alarm helps avoid overexposure. The timer reset button allows you to speed up production by pressing the button for a new pre-timed session. This commercial-grade heat press is true 450 watts rated with a temperature range up to 750 degrees Farenheight. Arrives fully assembled and ready to use with integrated cradle with rubber coated handle, Teflon-coated mug element, Teflon-coated latte element, and operating instructions.










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The Chick in the Tub (part two)




The Chick in the Tub (part two)





“Call an ambulance,” Mandy said. “She might not be dead. And if she is… ” She cringed and wiggled her fingers. “I don’t want any part of it.”

Steve went to get the phone.

Mandy kneeled by the tub and, holding her throbbing forehead, peered down at the girl’s dark, bony almost-skeletal frame. Something about the hair was disturbing. It lay across the face, and along the bottom of the tub, like kelp… like something organic, something alive.

Steve came back to the bathroom with the phone. He was talking to a dispatcher.

“We’re not sure,” he said. “We had a pretty big party here last night.” He sighed and rubbed one hand across his face. “We found her in the tub this morning.”

He craned his neck a little, trying to see the girl’s face. “No, no, we haven’t taken any vital signs or anything. But… But. Her skin is really cold. I think she might be dead.”

In the kitchen, the coffee maker gurgled and steamed and spurted out its last few shots of liquid. The smell - warm and dark and rich and heavy with the promise of healing – filled the house. Mandy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply but couldn’t bring herself to leave the girl. Steve hung up the phone and said, “They’re on their way. They said we shouldn’t touch her in the meantime.”

“Is it just me,” Mandy asked, “or is her head at kind of a funny angle?” Mandy wasn’t wearing her glasses, and had a blinding headache, and couldn’t be sure she was seeing what she saw.

But Steve nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Like her neck is… I dunno. Something’s not right there.” They stared for a while, dumbly. Then Steve went to the kitchen and came back with two cups of coffee. They sat – her on the toilet lid, him on the side of the tub by the girl – and sipped their coffee and let the caffeine and sugar and cream gently smooth the sharpest jangles of their hangovers.

When the paramedics came, Mandy was relieved. Soon, the chick in the tub would be someone else’s problem. She and Steve stood aside as the men unpacked their boxes of plastic-wrapped supplies on the cold white bathroom floor.

After a minute or two the paramedics stood up, exchanging looks. The older one said, “This is not funny. We could have you charged with mischief, you know.”

“Huh?” said Steve. “What do you mean? We didn’t do anything wrong. We just found her in the bathtub and called you. She seemed pretty out of it. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“Right,” said the younger paramedic. “Very funny.” He turned to his partner and said, “Let’s go.”

“Hey, wait,” Mandy said. “What about the girl? You can’t just leave her here. Isn’t she sick, or dead or something?”

“Haw haw haw,” said the younger paramedic. “Very funny. You crack me up.” He narrowed his eyes and scowled at the couple. “This is a complete misuse of our resources. There are real people out there who need our help. You college kids.” He shook his head. “So immature. Immature and self-centred and full of stupid pranks. Come on, Andy. Let’s go.”

“What the hell just happened?” Steve asked, incredulous. They watched the ambulance drive away, its tires crunching snow. “I’m gonna call their dispatcher and give ‘em hell. Like… what was that?”

Mandy said, “They thought this was some kind of joke? How could they? Unless…” and slowly it dawned on them that maybe, just maybe, the body in the bathtub WAS a joke… left for them by someone with a dark sense of humour. They were both so hung over. In fact, they were probably still technically drunk. And high. And Mandy was one of those people who hallucinates easily, and she had done some shrooms, and neither of them was wearing their glasses…

Steve felt his face grow hot. “Geez,” he said. “It never even occurred to me that she might not be real. Oh my god!” And then his embarrassment turned to a kind of giddy relief.

They went back to the bathroom and stared at the girl again. The paramedics had moved her, and her hair had… smeared. Mandy saw it first. “Look,” she said. “That green stain. It looks like it’s coming from her hair.”

Steve reached gingerly towards the hair and touched it. It was cold and damp and… rubbery. He pressed a bit between his fingers. It squelched. And smelled green and salty.

He lifted it off her face and, right away, could see that what he’d taken for pale skin was, in fact, a maze of tiny shells… smooth and pinkish and slightly iridescent.

He took her by the wrist, and gently raised a forearm, and his fingertips recognized the rubbery consistency of sea lettuce. He squeezed a bit and the skin ruptured, oozing brine and revealing a sharp knot of driftwood underneath.

Mandy and Steve exchanged looks of awe and total puzzlement. What was this thing, and how did it get there, and what on earth would they do with it?

They needed answers fast. It was already suppertime, and Mandy’s parents were coming in the morning. This pile of seaweed and driftwood – however real it might have seeme











House of Blues




House of Blues





Letter to House of Blues

To Whom It May Concern:

My husband and I recently attended the Hot Tuna/Radiators/Railroad Earth show at the new HOB venue in Atlantic City. This was my first experience at a House of Blues venue, and unfortunately, I believe it will be my last.

Let me start by saying that the venue itself is lovely. The big, open floor, the colors, the stage curtains... it's well decorated and sets a nice tone. The staff responsible for getting us into the show were polite and efficient, getting everyone ID'd, wrist-banded, and tickets scanned while we were waiting for the doors to open, so when the doors did finally open, we were able to just walk in with no hassles. Even while using the metal detector wands, the staff was very courteous. The staff inside the venue were also polite and helpful when asked questions, and the unlimited re-entry policy is fantastic.

Now on to the not so pleasant parts of my HOB experience.

Rude staff: We left about 20 minutes before Hot Tuna's set ended and waited outside the venue for a friend. While we were sitting there, we were treated to the loud conversation of the yellow-shirted security people, who were disparaging both the ban and the fans. We overheard - and let me say again that they were loud, there was no attempt to even try to hide it - them saying such things as, "They've been playing this crap music for 2 fucking hours." And, "Those idiot people are all in there jumping around like morons."

This alone would have been enough to turn me off to HOB in the future. However...

Timing: I understand that this is a new venue, but there appeared to be a number of snafus related to the HOB crew. The tickets were printed with doors at 6pm, but when we arrived, we were told by the yellow shirts that the bands arrived late and doors would open at 7pm. However, others of the yellow shirts told us that the tickets were misprinted and that doors were always supposed to open at 7pm. No one seemed to have their story straight.

When the doors finally did open, Railroad Earth ended up playing what had to be the shortest set in their history, because the show was starting late. We heard from several sources that the reason the doors opened late and the show started late was due to problems with the HOB crew loading in equipment.

Bar: $6 for a bottle of beer, and we didn't get the entire contents of the bottle. The cups being used had a smaller capacity than the bottles. When the bartenders poured the contents of the bottles into the cups, what was left in the bottle got tossed. $6 is steep for a full bottle of beer. For part of a bottle of beer, it's an outrage.

Sound: The sound on the floor was great from the soundboard to the stage. I also hear it was great in the seated balcony. Behind the soundboard was another story. It was muddy and echo-y, and generally sounded terrible.

We travelled from New York City for this show, and were really looking forward to it. That we ended up so disappointed in the HOB experience is a shame. We attend 25-35 concerts per year, mainly in smaller venues like yours, often travelling outside the NYC metro area. I would really have loved to have added HOB to my list of "must see" venues, but after this show, that isn't happening.

Thank you for your consideration,
KB









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