Shots rang out in the University of Texas today as a masked gunman walked through campus, firing randomly until he entered the school library and turned the AK-47 on himself. Thankfully, no one else was injured. But the incident was tragic none-the-less and drew up memories of the 1966 Texas Tower shooting where 14 were killed and over 30 wounded. Both events are examples of occurrences that just...BAFFLE me. I don't know when it became acceptable to even contemplate taking action of this kind. People have been doing crazy things throughout history, but bringing a gun to a school and opening fire is so far beyond the pale...
Naturally, I had the same feelings when the shootings at Columbine went down. Just utter bewilderment at how one can fathom the idea of resorting to such reprehensible activity. Listen, I can understand being in a bad spot emotionally/psychologically...I'm definitely not mitigating the intensity of those situations, believe you me. Nevertheless, it makes my heart heavy to think that people can and continue to entertain the senseless killing of innocent, unwitting students as a viable option. How did this happen???
I feel like if I wasn't so generally optimistic I would lose my faith in humanity with a frightening quickness. Sheesh...
http://www.aolnews.com/crime/article/shots-fired-at-university-of-texas-campus-gunman-dead/19651642
Busted Ts Ad
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Escalating Flatulence
So, I have this fear.
I mean, I have a few fears. You know, the usual: spiders, dark basements, waking up to a wide-eyed, panting Gary Busey standing next to your bed.
But, in regard to the one about which I'm writing...well, I'd like to know if anyone shares this fear. It would make me feel a little bit better about having it, I think. So, here it is.
*exhale*
I have a long-standing fear of getting FARTED on while standing behind someone on the escalator.
C'mon...you know what I'm talking about, right?? You're riding a two or three steps behind someone on an escalator...your face is JUST about rump-level...and then, just when you think all is well, your nose detects the increasingly pungent odor of some recently released backdoor perfume! It's bad enough that you have to stand there in the mess of it, hoping and praying that it dissipates before your nose hairs start to curl up to their roots. But then you are forced to wrap your mind around the fact that what you're smelling is not just some bad B.O. or day-old dishes in need of washing, but noxious, gassy, post-digested food-stank that was just blasted, without permission or warning, into your face...FROM SOMEONE ELSE'S BUTT! BUTT to FACE!! GOOD SWEET SHPILCHIS, NO!!
While I'm sure there are some people who are into that kinda thing (as I firmly believe that if you can think of it, there's SOMEONE out there who's into it), I am not one of those people. Call me crazy, but, given the choice, I would prefer to partake in flatulent activity by playing the role of the dispenser, not the recipient. If I wanted to come face-to-butt with a gassy afterthought, I'm sure I know a few people who would be more than happy to assist me in that endeavor. But I don't. ESPECIALLY NOT ON AN ESCALATOR.
And, Ladies, do not think you're excluded from the scenario, here. I'm MOST afraid of you LADIES...yeah, I'm talkin' to you. See, you're the ones that, having some semblance of self-respect and dignity (cf. men), try to air your grievances in a manner that doesn't draw attention to yourselves...like, say, while driving in a convertible, or walking down a busy street, or ON A MOVING ESCALATOR! That's right, I'm calling you out. I know you ladies hold your fire, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let fly in a such a setting where the crime can never be traced back to you. It's smart, I'll give you that. But as far as automated uphill travel is concerned, I have you makeup-wearing crop-dusters on the radar first and foremost!
So, that be my fear. Odd? Perhaps. Unusual? Probably. Well-founded? I challenge arguments to the contrary.
I will close by saying that if I have made even one person more keenly aware of the olfactoral dangers of escalator travel, I have done my job and will go to sleep with a smile. And then, in all likelihood, dream of getting farted on while riding an escalator.
FOLLOW FROBlog TODAY!!!
I mean, I have a few fears. You know, the usual: spiders, dark basements, waking up to a wide-eyed, panting Gary Busey standing next to your bed.
But, in regard to the one about which I'm writing...well, I'd like to know if anyone shares this fear. It would make me feel a little bit better about having it, I think. So, here it is.
*exhale*
I have a long-standing fear of getting FARTED on while standing behind someone on the escalator.
C'mon...you know what I'm talking about, right?? You're riding a two or three steps behind someone on an escalator...your face is JUST about rump-level...and then, just when you think all is well, your nose detects the increasingly pungent odor of some recently released backdoor perfume! It's bad enough that you have to stand there in the mess of it, hoping and praying that it dissipates before your nose hairs start to curl up to their roots. But then you are forced to wrap your mind around the fact that what you're smelling is not just some bad B.O. or day-old dishes in need of washing, but noxious, gassy, post-digested food-stank that was just blasted, without permission or warning, into your face...FROM SOMEONE ELSE'S BUTT! BUTT to FACE!! GOOD SWEET SHPILCHIS, NO!!
While I'm sure there are some people who are into that kinda thing (as I firmly believe that if you can think of it, there's SOMEONE out there who's into it), I am not one of those people. Call me crazy, but, given the choice, I would prefer to partake in flatulent activity by playing the role of the dispenser, not the recipient. If I wanted to come face-to-butt with a gassy afterthought, I'm sure I know a few people who would be more than happy to assist me in that endeavor. But I don't. ESPECIALLY NOT ON AN ESCALATOR.
And, Ladies, do not think you're excluded from the scenario, here. I'm MOST afraid of you LADIES...yeah, I'm talkin' to you. See, you're the ones that, having some semblance of self-respect and dignity (cf. men), try to air your grievances in a manner that doesn't draw attention to yourselves...like, say, while driving in a convertible, or walking down a busy street, or ON A MOVING ESCALATOR! That's right, I'm calling you out. I know you ladies hold your fire, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let fly in a such a setting where the crime can never be traced back to you. It's smart, I'll give you that. But as far as automated uphill travel is concerned, I have you makeup-wearing crop-dusters on the radar first and foremost!
So, that be my fear. Odd? Perhaps. Unusual? Probably. Well-founded? I challenge arguments to the contrary.
I will close by saying that if I have made even one person more keenly aware of the olfactoral dangers of escalator travel, I have done my job and will go to sleep with a smile. And then, in all likelihood, dream of getting farted on while riding an escalator.
FOLLOW FROBlog TODAY!!!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
I LOVE THE GYM
I hate the gym.
I've been going to the gym about thrice-a-week for the past yearish and it's gotten to the point where I honestly feel I should be getting PAID for the time I'm putting in. Not that I'm not seeing any results...the fruits of my labor, while smaller fruits than the fruits I'd prefer, are indeed present. On the whole, I'm extremely self-motivated, proactive, and perseverant. However, as health and fitness go, my nature is that of one who wants instant gratification without having to exert any actual effort. I'm like a bizarre combination of Oprah and Vince Vaughn. (I know...if you only had a nickel for every time someone uttered that very same statement...). Regardless, I bust my hump out there day after day in the seemingly-futile hope that one day...ONE DAY...I will emerge from the deep with 3% body fat and abs that look like a Klingon is trying to press their forehead through my abdomen.
As in most gyms, one often finds themselves in the situation of wanting to use a particular piece of workout equipment when a fellow gym-goer is not yet done using it. For some, this is the end of the story, figuring the user will be using said equipment for a while longer, so might as well move on...MAYbe come back to it later. For others, such as myself, this situation prompts another common occurrence:
The Bruh Scenario
The Bruh Scenario. Happens to me at least once a gym session. Most of the guys who work out the same time as I do are relatively friendly, as far as gym folk go. We have our little Bruh-moment, smile, and part ways. However, there's one regular at my sorry-excuse-for-an-apartment-complex-gym that isn't usually particularly pleasant to talk to...in fact, he's downright gruff. Physically, he fits the bill quite well: ~6'5", ~250, bald with a permascowl...basically a slightly slimmer version of Simon Adebisi from everyone's favorite prison love fest, Oz. Normally when I ask him how much longer he'll be using a given piece of equipment, his usual response consists of something between a nostril-flaring grunt and an ocularly-delivered death threat. I've come to accept this as the norm and we've existed rather happily in that state for quite some time.
Until a few days ago. I was at the gym, finishing up with a particularly Arnoldesque workout, when in walked Big Snarly. He lumbered toward the free weights were I was rounding off my last two sets and, with an ever-furrowed brow, began scanning the landscape...perhaps deciding where to begin, perhaps hunting for prey, who knows. I continued my last set of one-arm dumbbell snatches, reveling in being nearly done with yet another 4-bucket workout (buckets of sweat, mind you. It's a "1 to 4" rating system for workout intensity. I'm pretty sure the International Weightlifting Federation has plans to adopt it next year.). Just as I finished my last rep and lay the dumbbell on the ground, sweating worse than Tony Hayward at a congressional hearing, I looked up to see The Beast himself turn his head and look back at me. His gaze pierced deep into my soul. My muscles tensed. He straightened his body to full looming height, slowly opened his mouth, flashing an unexpected, uncharacteristic smirk that was probably the closest thing I would ever see to him smiling, and said in his low, African-accented baritone:
"I see you ah getting biggah."
....
........
(Sweet lord...did he just...just...TALK to me?)
"Oh yeah?" I cautiously responded, "Really?"
And with a final half-smile and nod, signifying that he was done talking and I could continue breathing, he walked off. I stood there for a minute, head cocked to the left and eyebrows raised in wonderment of the events that had just unfolded. And then, as I came back to reality and grabbed my towel off the barbell rack, I walked back to my gym bag thinking about what he said, and had myself a little satisfied grin.
I love the gym.
I've been going to the gym about thrice-a-week for the past yearish and it's gotten to the point where I honestly feel I should be getting PAID for the time I'm putting in. Not that I'm not seeing any results...the fruits of my labor, while smaller fruits than the fruits I'd prefer, are indeed present. On the whole, I'm extremely self-motivated, proactive, and perseverant. However, as health and fitness go, my nature is that of one who wants instant gratification without having to exert any actual effort. I'm like a bizarre combination of Oprah and Vince Vaughn. (I know...if you only had a nickel for every time someone uttered that very same statement...). Regardless, I bust my hump out there day after day in the seemingly-futile hope that one day...ONE DAY...I will emerge from the deep with 3% body fat and abs that look like a Klingon is trying to press their forehead through my abdomen.
As in most gyms, one often finds themselves in the situation of wanting to use a particular piece of workout equipment when a fellow gym-goer is not yet done using it. For some, this is the end of the story, figuring the user will be using said equipment for a while longer, so might as well move on...MAYbe come back to it later. For others, such as myself, this situation prompts another common occurrence:
The Bruh Scenario
Gym Guy 1: **walks over, attempts to attract attention with a sudden, swift head elevation-eyebrow raise combo move**
Gym Guy 2: **opens eyes wide, takes out one earbud signaling that conversation may commence**
Gym Guy 1: "How many sets ya got left, bruh?"
Gym Guy 2: **momentarily looks up and off into the distance counting, in his head, the two sets he has left** "Uh..2 sets. You can work in if you want."
Gym Guy 1: **raises open-palmed hand waist-level in polite declination** "Nah, take your time, bruh."
The Bruh Scenario. Happens to me at least once a gym session. Most of the guys who work out the same time as I do are relatively friendly, as far as gym folk go. We have our little Bruh-moment, smile, and part ways. However, there's one regular at my sorry-excuse-for-an-apartment-complex-gym that isn't usually particularly pleasant to talk to...in fact, he's downright gruff. Physically, he fits the bill quite well: ~6'5", ~250, bald with a permascowl...basically a slightly slimmer version of Simon Adebisi from everyone's favorite prison love fest, Oz. Normally when I ask him how much longer he'll be using a given piece of equipment, his usual response consists of something between a nostril-flaring grunt and an ocularly-delivered death threat. I've come to accept this as the norm and we've existed rather happily in that state for quite some time.
Until a few days ago. I was at the gym, finishing up with a particularly Arnoldesque workout, when in walked Big Snarly. He lumbered toward the free weights were I was rounding off my last two sets and, with an ever-furrowed brow, began scanning the landscape...perhaps deciding where to begin, perhaps hunting for prey, who knows. I continued my last set of one-arm dumbbell snatches, reveling in being nearly done with yet another 4-bucket workout (buckets of sweat, mind you. It's a "1 to 4" rating system for workout intensity. I'm pretty sure the International Weightlifting Federation has plans to adopt it next year.). Just as I finished my last rep and lay the dumbbell on the ground, sweating worse than Tony Hayward at a congressional hearing, I looked up to see The Beast himself turn his head and look back at me. His gaze pierced deep into my soul. My muscles tensed. He straightened his body to full looming height, slowly opened his mouth, flashing an unexpected, uncharacteristic smirk that was probably the closest thing I would ever see to him smiling, and said in his low, African-accented baritone:
"I see you ah getting biggah."
....
........
(Sweet lord...did he just...just...TALK to me?)
"Oh yeah?" I cautiously responded, "Really?"
And with a final half-smile and nod, signifying that he was done talking and I could continue breathing, he walked off. I stood there for a minute, head cocked to the left and eyebrows raised in wonderment of the events that had just unfolded. And then, as I came back to reality and grabbed my towel off the barbell rack, I walked back to my gym bag thinking about what he said, and had myself a little satisfied grin.
I love the gym.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Hairy Bitches Abound in New OK Go Video
Awesome times 10, people. I mean, it's not like they have a BAD video to their name. True to form, this one carried on the tradition of innovation, creativity, and...well, ODDness. I don't know with whom I'm more impressed, the band members or the dogs. With all that action going on, you'd think the dogs would start going bananas, barking like drunk Lindsay Lohans and leaving stinky trails of urine all over the set (the dogs, that is, not Lindsay. FROBlog can neither confirm nor deny any tendency by Ms. Lohan to leave stinky urine trails through the sets of her movies. NOT putting it past her, though...** "glug glug" hand motion **...).
And for your continued viewing pleasure: Ping Pong Tips from OK Go!
In fact, I pose the question to you:
With whom are you more impressed:
THE BAND or THE DOGS?
THE BAND or THE DOGS?
Answer in the "POST A COMMENT" box below!
And for your continued viewing pleasure: Ping Pong Tips from OK Go!
Taking it to the streets
Folks, when you live in an age of tremendous technological development such as...say...OURS, one must adapt to the changing times or risk being left behind in the dust. Here at FROBlog, we do not like dust. It's dirty. And really annoying to clean. Because first you try to use the feather duster, but that just spreads the dust around. So then your Mom is, like, "USE A WET WASH CLOTH AND THEN WIPE IT UP WITH A DRY ONE" and you're, like, "C'monnnn, Mom, that's SO MUCH work" and she's like, "JFro, if you did it regularly--
*AHEM* --deep breath--
But I digress. We're in the YouTube Age and everyone who is anyone can be found somewhere in YouTube's vast archive of celebrity shots, off key song covers, and drunk adolescent turdforbrains jumping onto trampolines from their parents' roofs. I'm not saying that FROBlog is "anyone" at this point, but in the hope that it will be at some point, I present to you the very first, the very text-based, the very quickly-thrown-together...FROBlog Video!!!
A round of applause for learning how to use Windows Movie Maker? No? No applause? Ok, no applause.
*AHEM* --deep breath--
But I digress. We're in the YouTube Age and everyone who is anyone can be found somewhere in YouTube's vast archive of celebrity shots, off key song covers, and drunk adolescent turdforbrains jumping onto trampolines from their parents' roofs. I'm not saying that FROBlog is "anyone" at this point, but in the hope that it will be at some point, I present to you the very first, the very text-based, the very quickly-thrown-together...FROBlog Video!!!
A round of applause for learning how to use Windows Movie Maker? No? No applause? Ok, no applause.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
RALLY TO RESTORE SANITY!!! Assemble the REASONABLE people!!
Never before has a rally been so eagerly awaited!
Never before has a rally been so feared by politicians and lawmakers!
Never before has a rally been so...shrouded in mystery?
As the long-anticipated response to Glenn "Chalkboard Jockey" Beck's Restoring Honor rally, Jon Stewart announced his RALLY TO RESTORE SANITY on The Daily Show this past Thursday (Sep. 16th). This so-called "call-to-reasonableness" will take place October, 30 at 12-3pm on the National Mall and will feature...um...speeches? Music? One-armed plate-spinning unicyclist jugglers? Here, check out the Daily Show's official RTRS announcement and decipher for yourself:
Whatever the hell will be going on, FROBlog will be THERE, reporting "LIVE!" (not live) from the rally grounds. Stay tuned to FROBlog for all your RTRS updates! And, truthiness be told, you could always visit the official RTRS website: http://www.rallytorestoresanity.com/. As well, The Daily Show will be giving rally updates on the program and from Twitter/Facebook.
And, of course, leave it up to our good frenemy, Steven Colbert, to host a counter-rally, The March to Keep Fear Alive (http://www.keepfearalive.com/). Spoiler Alert: you can get to either web site by clicking the "Don't Click Here" button on either page (it's fun for a while, but overuse can result in violent nausea). Colbert's march will be **GASP!!** on the same day, time, and place as the RTRS as he attempts to offset Jon Stewart's rally by "notch[ing] it up a scoatch." Well, SIR, we shall see who emerges victorious, shan't we!
("shan't?")
Never before has a rally been so feared by politicians and lawmakers!
Never before has a rally been so...shrouded in mystery?
As the long-anticipated response to Glenn "Chalkboard Jockey" Beck's Restoring Honor rally, Jon Stewart announced his RALLY TO RESTORE SANITY on The Daily Show this past Thursday (Sep. 16th). This so-called "call-to-reasonableness" will take place October, 30 at 12-3pm on the National Mall and will feature...um...speeches? Music? One-armed plate-spinning unicyclist jugglers? Here, check out the Daily Show's official RTRS announcement and decipher for yourself:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Rally to Restore Sanity | ||||
| ||||
Whatever the hell will be going on, FROBlog will be THERE, reporting "LIVE!" (not live) from the rally grounds. Stay tuned to FROBlog for all your RTRS updates! And, truthiness be told, you could always visit the official RTRS website: http://www.rallytorestoresanity.com/. As well, The Daily Show will be giving rally updates on the program and from Twitter/Facebook.
And, of course, leave it up to our good frenemy, Steven Colbert, to host a counter-rally, The March to Keep Fear Alive (http://www.keepfearalive.com/). Spoiler Alert: you can get to either web site by clicking the "Don't Click Here" button on either page (it's fun for a while, but overuse can result in violent nausea). Colbert's march will be **GASP!!** on the same day, time, and place as the RTRS as he attempts to offset Jon Stewart's rally by "notch[ing] it up a scoatch." Well, SIR, we shall see who emerges victorious, shan't we!
("shan't?")
My friends, the SANITY will rise again!
Gird your loins...and wear comfortable shoes!
 |
| Image via RTRS Facebook event page |
Monday, September 20, 2010
Please, Shia, don't hurt 'em!
That title, as all you late 20/early 30-somethings may have wondered, is a play on the title of MC Hammer's ginormously huge third album that featured such hits as "U Can't Touch This," "Pray," and "....--uhhhh--well, yeah :) However, in referencing the Godfather of Baggy Pants while mentioning Shia LaBeouf, I am not insinuating that Mr. LaBoeuf is gearing up to either inflict violence on anyone or come out with a hit rap single. Or go into bankruptcy, for that matter (sorry, Hammer...had to throw it in there. You'll always be 2 Legit 2 Quit in my book.). It is simply my humble plea to Sir Shia not to hurt the millions of original Wall Street movie fans by playing the same prepubescent role in the new Wall Street movie that he has done--remarkably well, mind you--in the past few flicks in which he's starred (Transformers, Eagle Eye, Indiana Jones (arguably) ). I want to state first and foremost that I think the 'Beouf is a good actor; I have never seen Holes (spoiler alert: it ain't on my Netflix queue) nor Disturbia, which I heard was pretty decent, but his performance in Transformers was spot on. I mean, really, could you envision his character any other way (e.g. not bumbling, nervous, and horny as a recently-released convict)?
That said, I wasn't entirely convinced by his role in the new Indy flick (Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, for clarification...NOT the most recent thing to come out of The Sundance Institute) where he was supposed to play a knife-wielding, motorcycle-riding greaser. I felt it was a little too "Shia" at times (sorry, Shia--can I call you 'Shia?') and fear the same will happen with his role in Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (opening in NY tonight), in which he plays the equivalent of Charlie Sheen's character from the original movie, the bubbling-over pot of ambition Bud Fox. Yes, truth-be-told, I'm only inferring the characters are supposed to be similar based on what I've seen from the previews (i.e. a young buck trying make a buck is taken under Gordon Gekko's scheming wing). But, frankly, whether they are or not is of no consequence. Any movie planning to follow-up an original as good as Wall Street has no room for error. The characters MUST be believable. And, as I couldn't picture anyone else playing Sam Witwicky with as much fumbling and clumsy hilarity as Shia, nether could I tolerate anyone playing a Bud Fox-like role with a hint of silliness or a drop less overconfidence.
Always one willing to give another the benefit of the doubt, I am keeping an open mind, hoping Das Beouf has solidified his act for the new Wall Street. If not, I may just have to stand outside of Casa LaBeouf in a trench coat with a boombox raised in the air blasting the "Greed is Good" speech on loop like a jacked-up Say Anything climax. I reiterate: Please, Shia, don't hurt 'em!
Side note: for the record, I think Shia LaBeouf is a pretty cool dude and, here and now, publicly invite him to get a drink with me. First round is on me. Next 6 months are on you, Shizia LaBizeouf. Shibby.
PS - Shia, if you're unhappy with this post and you'd like to switch places with me, I will be more than happy to be a movie star in your stead while you comment on my acting abilities to my eight loyal readers. No, seriously.
 |
| Shia "Dreamy Stare" LaBeouf Image via CreativeCommons.org |
Always one willing to give another the benefit of the doubt, I am keeping an open mind, hoping Das Beouf has solidified his act for the new Wall Street. If not, I may just have to stand outside of Casa LaBeouf in a trench coat with a boombox raised in the air blasting the "Greed is Good" speech on loop like a jacked-up Say Anything climax. I reiterate: Please, Shia, don't hurt 'em!
Side note: for the record, I think Shia LaBeouf is a pretty cool dude and, here and now, publicly invite him to get a drink with me. First round is on me. Next 6 months are on you, Shizia LaBizeouf. Shibby.
PS - Shia, if you're unhappy with this post and you'd like to switch places with me, I will be more than happy to be a movie star in your stead while you comment on my acting abilities to my eight loyal readers. No, seriously.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!! - The Pissed-Off Edition
*sigh*
I don't even want to talk about it...
But I'm going to. Because I have a blog. And that what bloggers do.
Ravens lost. CHECK!
Dallas lost. CHECK!
Pittsburgh won. CHECK!
Redskins? ...
Well, does "screwed the pooch" cover it??? I mean, I'm pretty sure we were playing like champs and had a 17-point lead at ONE point in the game. Portis, with a meager 33 yards but a back-slap-worthy 2 TDs, finally came out to play. Santana had a handful of good catches, going 10 for 13. The Defense was doing there thing...for a while there, at least. WE WERE PLAYING WELL--which, unfortunately, isn't something I've been able to say with any confidence about my team as of late.
But then, like Friendster and communism, an encouraging start took a turn for the worse. A couple botched passes and a rather unfortunate field goal miss in overtime (THANKS, Gary Kubiak) helped seal the deal. And what looked like a promising victory ended up putting the Hogs 1 and1 for the sixth time in 11 seasons (thank you, Dan Steinberg). *sigh*
And that's all I'm saying about it.
Btw, why is Andre Johnson so good? It's almost not fair. They should give him a handicap...like, I dunno, make him play with a live porcupine in his pants. Knowing Johson, I'm sure he'd still land a few TDs...but HOT DAMN those victory dances would put MC Hammer to shame!
I don't even want to talk about it...
But I'm going to. Because I have a blog. And that what bloggers do.
Ravens lost. CHECK!
Dallas lost. CHECK!
Pittsburgh won. CHECK!
Redskins? ...
Well, does "screwed the pooch" cover it??? I mean, I'm pretty sure we were playing like champs and had a 17-point lead at ONE point in the game. Portis, with a meager 33 yards but a back-slap-worthy 2 TDs, finally came out to play. Santana had a handful of good catches, going 10 for 13. The Defense was doing there thing...for a while there, at least. WE WERE PLAYING WELL--which, unfortunately, isn't something I've been able to say with any confidence about my team as of late.
But then, like Friendster and communism, an encouraging start took a turn for the worse. A couple botched passes and a rather unfortunate field goal miss in overtime (THANKS, Gary Kubiak) helped seal the deal. And what looked like a promising victory ended up putting the Hogs 1 and1 for the sixth time in 11 seasons (thank you, Dan Steinberg). *sigh*
And that's all I'm saying about it.
Btw, why is Andre Johnson so good? It's almost not fair. They should give him a handicap...like, I dunno, make him play with a live porcupine in his pants. Knowing Johson, I'm sure he'd still land a few TDs...but HOT DAMN those victory dances would put MC Hammer to shame!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Enough is Enough!
I am a firm believer that one should quit while they're ahead. We've seen it happen before...hell, it's happening right now. Somewhere, in some flashy, bell-dinging, blue-haired lady packed casino, some poor sap is sitting at a blackjack table next to a divorcée in a sequin dress and a fat guy in a cowboy hat, watching his kid's college fund/family savings/casino bankroll go down the tubes, Lohan-style. He sat down with the shiny sparkle of luck in his eye, hit a hot streak that put him up 300% (prompting numerous sweaty high-five requests from the fat guy in the cowboy hat) and then, when all notions of reason and responsibility would tell him to "GET UP, YOU SCHMUCK! TAKE YOUR FREE MONEY AND ROLL!"...
...he lets it ride. And that, naturally, is when the tides turn, the stars fall out of alignment and, ten minutes later, our poor sap finds himself crying into his watered-down 7&7 wondering how he's going to break the news to his soon-to-be ex-wife that they're going to have to sell the dog and pass on the Sunsetter Retractable Awning they were so excited about!
You start strong, you PEAK, you keep on going, and then you tank. Doesn't happen to everyone, of course. It's not an across-the-board formula by any stretch of the imagination. However, the scenario rears its ugly head all-too-often in certain situations **coughTELEVISIONcough** and, thus, can AND SHOULD be avoided by paying attention to history and checking your ego at the door. Yes, Mister Producer Man, I believe I am talking to YOU, sir.
Let's get down to brass tax, here. I am talking about two of my favorite--or, rather, once favorite--tv shows: Entourage and The Office.
I won't lie. I started getting HBO to watch Entourage. Saw a couple YouTube clips of "The Best of Ari Gold" and was absolutely hooked. This was, if memory serves, sometime during the second season where Vince is being courted for the lead role in Aquaman, Ari is up in arms over Terrence's mysterious return to the agency, Drama is considering calf implants(?!), and smoking hot chicks abounded. WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?! I immediately brought myself up to date and began spending my days looking forward to Sunday night, perpetually wondering JUST HOW MUCH weed Turtle would smoke by the end of the episode and what unlucky soul would find themselves on the receiving end of an Ari Gold obscenity-gorged tongue lashing.
As for The Office...well, I must sheepishly admit that I was probably the last person in the lower 48 states to jump onto the Michael Scott Bandwagon. But once I was on...I WAS ON. Could anything be funnier than 30 minutes of awkward, cringe-worthy interpersonal interaction? And, c'mon...Dwight? This guy was comedy GOLD. Gold, Jerry...Gold! (anyone? anyone?) There were laughs, romantic angst, Jell-O molds...the show could do no wrong!
(Side note: I am watching Leno while writing this post, and his guest is The Situation. THIS GUY is on tv, raking in the dough, and I can't get a job???? ...*sigh*... I'm going to have a pep-talk with my abs, as they're obviously not pulling their weight.)
Everything was going swell between me and my shows. Season 3 was great for the Scranton crew as well as Vince's gang. Viewership was at an all-time high. Lingering subplots were being resolved: Pam and Jim finally got together. Vince and E finally were able to make Medellin. Life was good.
THEN came Season 4.
It wasn't that the shows' Seasons 4 were bad, per se. They were entertaining. Ish. The problem lay in the fact that the characters and the scope of the show were changing...and not to the benefit of the programs as a whole. The subplots we came to know, love, and anguish over were resolved, which is great...but then why would we continue watching? The appeal of Entourage was its situational simplicity and uncomplicated characters; the loud-mouthed boys from Queens had fun spending ridiculous amounts of money, getting high, and chasing girls while trying to land Vince in a movie...BOOM, that's it.. But, alas, no more. Now E's going down the dark road toward Agentdom, Drama is actually becoming successful and garnering celebrity, and Turtle...is Turtle even IN the fourth season??
The Office suffered a similar fate starting in Season 4, as the Pam and Jim angst-fest petered out into an all-too-cute office romance and Dwight slowly turned from nerdy dolt to plotting knave. The show got too big for its britches by featuring too much out-of-the-office action and scripting out of certain characters the traits and charm that hooked us from the get go. I could go into greater detail but, frankly, this post is already bordering on a tome so I'll leave it at is.
My message to these shows: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! Just stop already! Ya done good, so quite while you're ahead! Keep it going like this and you'll all suffer a nasty case of...
...no...I can't....
....I can't say it....
.......ok....FINE....
.........IF I MUST....
Simpsons Syndrome!!! OH THE HUMANITIES!!! (if that comment happened to offend any of the seven people who still watch The Simpsons religiously, please accept my humblest apologies.).
I'm simply saying that they should put the kibosh on the whole operation before it succumbs to waning viewership, poor ratings, and eventually having to throw in even zanier plot twists in attempts to keep interest high...or there at all! What was once novel is now all too familiar. Face it guys...ya jumped the shark. Time to let 'er go.
PS - Holy Schmantzenpants, this is a ridiculously long post. You'd think I didn't have anything else to do but sit at my computer and clack away. Oh, wait...
FOLLOW FROBlog TODAY!!! (click "Follow" button on right)
...he lets it ride. And that, naturally, is when the tides turn, the stars fall out of alignment and, ten minutes later, our poor sap finds himself crying into his watered-down 7&7 wondering how he's going to break the news to his soon-to-be ex-wife that they're going to have to sell the dog and pass on the Sunsetter Retractable Awning they were so excited about!
You start strong, you PEAK, you keep on going, and then you tank. Doesn't happen to everyone, of course. It's not an across-the-board formula by any stretch of the imagination. However, the scenario rears its ugly head all-too-often in certain situations **coughTELEVISIONcough** and, thus, can AND SHOULD be avoided by paying attention to history and checking your ego at the door. Yes, Mister Producer Man, I believe I am talking to YOU, sir.
Let's get down to brass tax, here. I am talking about two of my favorite--or, rather, once favorite--tv shows: Entourage and The Office.
I won't lie. I started getting HBO to watch Entourage. Saw a couple YouTube clips of "The Best of Ari Gold" and was absolutely hooked. This was, if memory serves, sometime during the second season where Vince is being courted for the lead role in Aquaman, Ari is up in arms over Terrence's mysterious return to the agency, Drama is considering calf implants(?!), and smoking hot chicks abounded. WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?! I immediately brought myself up to date and began spending my days looking forward to Sunday night, perpetually wondering JUST HOW MUCH weed Turtle would smoke by the end of the episode and what unlucky soul would find themselves on the receiving end of an Ari Gold obscenity-gorged tongue lashing.
As for The Office...well, I must sheepishly admit that I was probably the last person in the lower 48 states to jump onto the Michael Scott Bandwagon. But once I was on...I WAS ON. Could anything be funnier than 30 minutes of awkward, cringe-worthy interpersonal interaction? And, c'mon...Dwight? This guy was comedy GOLD. Gold, Jerry...Gold! (anyone? anyone?) There were laughs, romantic angst, Jell-O molds...the show could do no wrong!
(Side note: I am watching Leno while writing this post, and his guest is The Situation. THIS GUY is on tv, raking in the dough, and I can't get a job???? ...*sigh*... I'm going to have a pep-talk with my abs, as they're obviously not pulling their weight.)
Everything was going swell between me and my shows. Season 3 was great for the Scranton crew as well as Vince's gang. Viewership was at an all-time high. Lingering subplots were being resolved: Pam and Jim finally got together. Vince and E finally were able to make Medellin. Life was good.
THEN came Season 4.
It wasn't that the shows' Seasons 4 were bad, per se. They were entertaining. Ish. The problem lay in the fact that the characters and the scope of the show were changing...and not to the benefit of the programs as a whole. The subplots we came to know, love, and anguish over were resolved, which is great...but then why would we continue watching? The appeal of Entourage was its situational simplicity and uncomplicated characters; the loud-mouthed boys from Queens had fun spending ridiculous amounts of money, getting high, and chasing girls while trying to land Vince in a movie...BOOM, that's it.. But, alas, no more. Now E's going down the dark road toward Agentdom, Drama is actually becoming successful and garnering celebrity, and Turtle...is Turtle even IN the fourth season??
The Office suffered a similar fate starting in Season 4, as the Pam and Jim angst-fest petered out into an all-too-cute office romance and Dwight slowly turned from nerdy dolt to plotting knave. The show got too big for its britches by featuring too much out-of-the-office action and scripting out of certain characters the traits and charm that hooked us from the get go. I could go into greater detail but, frankly, this post is already bordering on a tome so I'll leave it at is.
My message to these shows: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! Just stop already! Ya done good, so quite while you're ahead! Keep it going like this and you'll all suffer a nasty case of...
...no...I can't....
....I can't say it....
.......ok....FINE....
.........IF I MUST....
Simpsons Syndrome!!! OH THE HUMANITIES!!! (if that comment happened to offend any of the seven people who still watch The Simpsons religiously, please accept my humblest apologies.).
I'm simply saying that they should put the kibosh on the whole operation before it succumbs to waning viewership, poor ratings, and eventually having to throw in even zanier plot twists in attempts to keep interest high...or there at all! What was once novel is now all too familiar. Face it guys...ya jumped the shark. Time to let 'er go.
~fin~
EPILOGUE: Further investigation has indicated that both Entourage and The Office are closing up shop. Entourage is set to film one final mini-season of six episodes followed by a movie (bad idea) and The Office will film a seventh season and then lose Steve Carell (continuing on without him would be an even WORSE idea).
PS - Holy Schmantzenpants, this is a ridiculously long post. You'd think I didn't have anything else to do but sit at my computer and clack away. Oh, wait...
FOLLOW FROBlog TODAY!!! (click "Follow" button on right)
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Dressed to the 9s in aisle 8
It could be that this has been circulating on them intertubes for a long time and I'm just now coming upon it. Either way, it's a gem. Debra Jackson, if you're reading this...CALL ME. I want to party with you.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!!
This has been one busy summer. From spending endless hours pouring over brain-mushing Bar material, to being out of town for three weeks on a whirlwind European vacation (believe me, no one's complaining 'bout this one), to being altogether engulfed in the job hunting bubble, I've been feeling a little out-of-the-loop...especially as it pertains to sports. The defining moment came about a week ago when I turned on the tv and saw our ol' coach, Big Jim Zorn himself, sporting...a RAVENS cap?! WHAT??? When did this happen??? It was at that point I knew it was time to get back in the game, as it were.
Those who know me know that my knowledge base of sports-related statstica (arguably not a real word) is about as shallow as Heidi Montag reading a MAD Magazine in a kiddy pool (side note: whether this scenario is realistic or not is up for debate. Considerations: Heidi Montag can no longer fit in a standard size kiddie pool with her two new inordinately huge chesticles. Secondly, it involves her reading). I consistently defer the role of Sports Conversation Facilitator to my good buddy Boobs who, if the sheer volume of sports trivia knowledge one possessed directly correlated to one's manliness, would resemble some sort of Adonis-like superhuman comprised of Chuck Norris' legs, Fabio's torso, and John Holmes'...well...you get the idea...
Conversational shortcomings aside, I am a die-hard, unwavering Redskins fan who begins EVERY season under the impression that they will be going to the Superbowl and routinely stack my fantasy team with their top players (typically a recipe for brutal defeat after brutal defeat, ultimate failure, and inevitable ridicule. I do it every year without fail.). I LOVE me some football and, accordingly, feel as though I owe it to myself to up my "stat savvy" this season. Not quite sure how, just yet. But I'm pretty sure it means more Sportscenter and paying closer attention to pregame show commentary, which is never a bad thing. Ok, I take that back. It's never a bad thing unless, like me, you are kinda weirded out by Cris Collinsworth's glazed-over permasmile. Really...it's...it's just weird, right? Kinda like he's always sitting there daydreaming about ever-so-slowly riding a horse through a sunny green field in middle America until Warren Sapp shifts in his seat and his PLANET OF A HEAD eclipses the studio lights, snapping Cris back into reality! *pause* ...kinda like that?
**Donovan McNabb - as far as his performance, I think Jarrett Bell of USATODAY.com hit the nail on the head when he said McNabb wasn't spectacular...but he WON. Nabby fired off a couple too many shoestring passes for my liking, but he got the job done and led the Hogs into the regular season with a big "W" against our favorite team to beat. Kudos, my good sir, carry on. And, yes, I will be calling you "Nabby" for the immediate time being, Nabby.
**Prince Albert - Ok, so you're a nose tackle...get over it. Time to step up your game, there, Haynesworth, because you seemed a little sluggish out there against the Cowgirls. And don't get me started on your missing practices. If I were getting paid $100 million...... sorry, I think I just swallowed my mandible. Let me try that again. If I were getting paid.......100 MILLION DOLLARS, I would not only make it my business to attend every practice smiling and without complaint, but I'd buy a new wardrobe that consisted solely of burgundy and gold jumpsuits, change my doorbell, ringtone, and car horn to "Hail to the Redskins," and send Dan Snyder weekly Edible Arrangements fruit baskets. Of course, since they were being delivered to Dan Snyder I'd let them sit out in the sun a few days before sending them...
**Tom Brady's hair looks like a poorly constructed Jennifer Aniston wig. But, on the upside, at least now he and Giselle can buy conditioner in bulk, right? Sam's Club, hoooooooooo!
And now, my lovelies, I must away. Have a date with ESPN so I can learn me some knowledge. Next time you see me, I'll be able to tell you exactly how many touchdowns the Red Wings scored in the last World Series!
I'd like to close with this:
Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!
Those who know me know that my knowledge base of sports-related statstica (arguably not a real word) is about as shallow as Heidi Montag reading a MAD Magazine in a kiddy pool (side note: whether this scenario is realistic or not is up for debate. Considerations: Heidi Montag can no longer fit in a standard size kiddie pool with her two new inordinately huge chesticles. Secondly, it involves her reading). I consistently defer the role of Sports Conversation Facilitator to my good buddy Boobs who, if the sheer volume of sports trivia knowledge one possessed directly correlated to one's manliness, would resemble some sort of Adonis-like superhuman comprised of Chuck Norris' legs, Fabio's torso, and John Holmes'...well...you get the idea...
Conversational shortcomings aside, I am a die-hard, unwavering Redskins fan who begins EVERY season under the impression that they will be going to the Superbowl and routinely stack my fantasy team with their top players (typically a recipe for brutal defeat after brutal defeat, ultimate failure, and inevitable ridicule. I do it every year without fail.). I LOVE me some football and, accordingly, feel as though I owe it to myself to up my "stat savvy" this season. Not quite sure how, just yet. But I'm pretty sure it means more Sportscenter and paying closer attention to pregame show commentary, which is never a bad thing. Ok, I take that back. It's never a bad thing unless, like me, you are kinda weirded out by Cris Collinsworth's glazed-over permasmile. Really...it's...it's just weird, right? Kinda like he's always sitting there daydreaming about ever-so-slowly riding a horse through a sunny green field in middle America until Warren Sapp shifts in his seat and his PLANET OF A HEAD eclipses the studio lights, snapping Cris back into reality!
**Donovan McNabb - as far as his performance, I think Jarrett Bell of USATODAY.com hit the nail on the head when he said McNabb wasn't spectacular...but he WON. Nabby fired off a couple too many shoestring passes for my liking, but he got the job done and led the Hogs into the regular season with a big "W" against our favorite team to beat. Kudos, my good sir, carry on. And, yes, I will be calling you "Nabby" for the immediate time being, Nabby.
**Prince Albert - Ok, so you're a nose tackle...get over it. Time to step up your game, there, Haynesworth, because you seemed a little sluggish out there against the Cowgirls. And don't get me started on your missing practices. If I were getting paid $100 million
**Tom Brady's hair looks like a poorly constructed Jennifer Aniston wig. But, on the upside, at least now he and Giselle can buy conditioner in bulk, right? Sam's Club, hoooooooooo!
And now, my lovelies, I must away. Have a date with ESPN so I can learn me some knowledge. Next time you see me, I'll be able to tell you exactly how many touchdowns the Red Wings scored in the last World Series!
I'd like to close with this:
Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!
Run or pass and score -- we want a lot more!
Beat 'em, Swamp 'em,
Touchdown! -- Let the points soar!
Fight on, fight on 'Til you have won
Sons of Wash-ing-ton. Rah!, Rah!, Rah!
Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!
Beat 'em, Swamp 'em,
Touchdown! -- Let the points soar!
Fight on, fight on 'Til you have won
Sons of Wash-ing-ton. Rah!, Rah!, Rah!
Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Domestic Nonplussage
"Well, we're home." Three words I've dreaded having to say since the moment our Boeing 777 lifted off American soil a month ago and Iron Man 2 lit up our single-serving tv screens (fun movie, btw, if you haven't seen it. Anyone else notice that Terrence Howard looked, mysteriously, like Don Cheadle in this one...) Now, don't get me wrong--it's not that I have beef with DC Metro Area. The District is, without a doubt, one of the jewels of our nation. It's got the White House, the monuments, the memorials, Perry's Sunday Tranny Brunch. But, c'mon, fellow world travelers...you know what I'm gettin' at, right? A casual stroll on the National Mall doesn't hold a candle to viewing the ancient ruins of Rome, crossing the statue-laden Charles Bridge that spans Prague's Vltava River, or walking the cobblestones of Edinburgh's Royal Mile leading up to an awe-inspiring medieval castle fortress.
...right?
I have been sorely missing Europe ever since returning to American soil. However, upon further consideration, it occurs to me that I might have been selling our little capital city short (to myself, that is). Not that DC's offerings can necessarily measure up to the wonders of fill-in-the-blank-European-destination. But this city ain't no slouch, neither. Between the museums and galleries, monuments and memorials--even the architecture that, while only dating back so many years, spans both time and style--DC can be a desired destination in its own right. This city holds within its borders some of this nation's finest achievements, not to mention its ridiculously fascinating and pride-filled history. Oh right, THAT history. The whole "forming of our great nation" thing. That earns a few points, right?
No, no, no...I have NOT been hired by the District of Columbia Department of Tourism as their newest PR rep. For one, that would mean I'm employed. Had that happened, you and everyone within a 50 mile radius would have been alerted via my screams of joy from the surrounding mountaintops and, very possibly, an overzealous, Will Ferrel-esque streak through the city with "I got 'er done!!" painted on my butt cheeks (yes, folks, it's coming to that).
What I think I'm getting at is that I am not willing to let myself wallow in the post-vacation doldrums of tourist nostalgia, especially when there is a city at my doorstep I have only begun to discover despite living in the area for the better part of my life. Yes, I've been to the Air and Space museum, seen IMAXes, and eaten dehydrated "astronaut ice cream" 20 times over. Yes, I've repeatedly walked past the Old Executive Office building and Renwick and Corcoran Galleries on the way to my Dad's old office. I've strolled from monsieur Lincoln to the Capitol and back. I've Cherryblossomed. I've engaged in countless acts of alcohol-fueled debauchery from the north most tip of 16th Street all the way down to the bowels of Georgetown. And yet, I feel like I've barely scratched the surface.
So, in sum, I'm issuing a challenge to myself and anyone else who is interested: get up off your LOST-watching, Farmville-harvesting, wonktastic keister, go out there and remind yourself why our nation's capital is such an asset. If I'm the only one that hasn't truly taken advantage of what this city has to offer..well, shame on me and you can disregard this challenge and go back to being awesome. But I have a feeling I'm not alone. It may not have the Colosseum or the Uffizi, but DC has a history, culture, and intrinsic value that puts it on par with some of the greats. Go remind yourself. It'll be worth it.
In the meantime, I'll be watching Passport to Europe, No Reservations, and engaging in other metaphorical acts of self-flagellation.
...right?
I have been sorely missing Europe ever since returning to American soil. However, upon further consideration, it occurs to me that I might have been selling our little capital city short (to myself, that is). Not that DC's offerings can necessarily measure up to the wonders of fill-in-the-blank-European-destination. But this city ain't no slouch, neither. Between the museums and galleries, monuments and memorials--even the architecture that, while only dating back so many years, spans both time and style--DC can be a desired destination in its own right. This city holds within its borders some of this nation's finest achievements, not to mention its ridiculously fascinating and pride-filled history. Oh right, THAT history. The whole "forming of our great nation" thing. That earns a few points, right?
No, no, no...I have NOT been hired by the District of Columbia Department of Tourism as their newest PR rep. For one, that would mean I'm employed. Had that happened, you and everyone within a 50 mile radius would have been alerted via my screams of joy from the surrounding mountaintops and, very possibly, an overzealous, Will Ferrel-esque streak through the city with "I got 'er done!!" painted on my butt cheeks (yes, folks, it's coming to that).
What I think I'm getting at is that I am not willing to let myself wallow in the post-vacation doldrums of tourist nostalgia, especially when there is a city at my doorstep I have only begun to discover despite living in the area for the better part of my life. Yes, I've been to the Air and Space museum, seen IMAXes, and eaten dehydrated "astronaut ice cream" 20 times over. Yes, I've repeatedly walked past the Old Executive Office building and Renwick and Corcoran Galleries on the way to my Dad's old office. I've strolled from monsieur Lincoln to the Capitol and back. I've Cherryblossomed. I've engaged in countless acts of alcohol-fueled debauchery from the north most tip of 16th Street all the way down to the bowels of Georgetown. And yet, I feel like I've barely scratched the surface.
So, in sum, I'm issuing a challenge to myself and anyone else who is interested: get up off your LOST-watching, Farmville-harvesting, wonktastic keister, go out there and remind yourself why our nation's capital is such an asset. If I'm the only one that hasn't truly taken advantage of what this city has to offer..well, shame on me and you can disregard this challenge and go back to being awesome. But I have a feeling I'm not alone. It may not have the Colosseum or the Uffizi, but DC has a history, culture, and intrinsic value that puts it on par with some of the greats. Go remind yourself. It'll be worth it.
In the meantime, I'll be watching Passport to Europe, No Reservations, and engaging in other metaphorical acts of self-flagellation.
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