In one big technological step closer to creating such innovations as the rehydration machine Mrs. McFly used to juice up a pizza in Back to the Future 2, PayPal is now offering iPhone users an amazing new way to deposit checks. Prepare thyself for awesomeness. You download their app, take a PICTURE of the front and back of the check, and then *BAZOW!* money appears in your account (a few days later). It's like magic. Future magic.
http://lifehacker.com/5656848/paypal-for-iphone-deposits-checks-via-camera
Btw, if you see Biff, do NOT give him the almanac...
Busted Ts Ad
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Levi Johnston: Baby Daddy, Playgirl Model...uhh...MAYORAL CANDIDATE???
The universe, as we have been led to understand it, is basically a collection of planets, stars, galaxies, gas, dust, and anything else that falls into the rather broad category of "any and all matter and energy." And Gary Busey. How do all things in this vast universe coexist without constantly banging into each other, blowing up, or getting sucked into black holes? Well, the answer I'm prepared to give you, being neither a physicist, cosmologist, or any other kind of scientist equipped to deal with space-time, is that there is an order to most things. The component parts of our solar system work pretty well together; the earth orbits the sun, the sun heats the earth, badabing badaboom...LIFE! Trees give off oxygen, humans give off carbon dioxide, each lives because of the other. Animals poop, the poo fertilizes the soil, things grow from the soil on which the animals feed resulting, naturally, in more poo. Rinse and repeat. (this scenario, however, does NOT excuse my ferrets from showcasing their excretory abilities on my carpet night after night. Thank you for that one, Universe.)
Even non-natural processes follow natural progressions. No company starts off in the Forbes 100; you start small, gain capital, employees, and revenue, and work your way up to stand tall with the big boys. No building goes from an architectural blueprint to a complete structure...that would be one magical erection. Nor does a business transaction go from idea to handshake. You get my point; there is an order to things, a way things should be done. Sometimes, however, something happens that makes one question the natural order of things. Something happens that makes one question LIFE as we know it.
That thing, my dear readers, happened about two months ago when Levi "Overachiever" Johnston announced his candidacy for mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. Just to make sure we're all on the same page, Levi Johnston is the double ex-fiance of Bristol Palin (yup, you heard that right), father to their lovechild, bane of Sarah Palin's existence (which ALMOST gives him a few points), avid hunter, aspiring actor, and Playgirl model. So, you know, the typical resume for the average mayoral candidate.
His education, you ask? S'all good. He clocked a few years of high school. Just enough to qualify him for mayor, not enough to be...you know...annoying.
Previous political experience? Hmm...that's a little tougher...I mean, he DID have a child out of wedlock and loves guns, does that qualify him? No? Not to worry! Like any other political leader, LJ is undoubtedly poised to surround himself with the best and brightest minds of our time. Potential candidates may include such qualified individuals as Paris Hilton for campaign manager, Spencer Pratt for head speech writer, and of course, Levi's twice almost-mother-in-law Sarah Palin for the newly-created position of Chief Mama Grizzly (responsibilities include raising funds, garnering public support, and organizing weekly moose hunts. And getting booed at Dancing With The Stars--OH NO YOU DIH-UNT!!!).
Not sure how you'll keep up with all the enthralling election excitement? Don't worry about missing the fun; the whole ridiculosity will be documented in Levi's upcoming reality series, Loving Levi: The Road to the Mayor's Office. Yup...that's right...watch out, I <3 NY reruns, there's a NEW contender in town!
What this all comes down to is...
HOW ON GOD'S SWEET GREEN EARTH DOES LEVI JOHNSTON THINK HE'S QUALIFIED TO RUN FOR MAYOR OF ANYTHING MORE THAN HIS SPORT ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT ISSUE POSTER-RIDDEN BEDROOM??????? THIS GOES DIRECTLY AGAINST THE NATURAL ORDER OF THINGS!!! You don't 1) drop out of high school, 2) become a public figure by getting your famous not-wife pregnant, 3) pose for the most popular nudie rag in the world, and THEN RUN FOR MAYOR!!! That's just...just...INSANE!!
I can understand that some people take longer to mature than others (I, myself, fall into this category, as evidenced by the fact that I am 29 years old and, at this exact moment, am laughing at the fact that one of my ferrets just farted while pooping. On my carpet, mind you.). Youthful indiscretions can be excused through the passage of time. But, the line's gotta be drawn somewhere. It's not like the good Sir Johnston built his impressive resume when he was a kid and we can chalk it up to the fumblings of inexperience...IT. WAS. LAST. YEAR.
Levi, I wish you the best of luck. Not just because you'll need a ridonkulous amount of it. But because you've got the cojones to jump into the abyss, knowing full well the futility of it all. So what if you're completely, utterly, painfully unqualified? So what if your inane aspirations are disrupting the space-time continuum, potentially throwing off the rotation of the planet and sending our futures spiraling into uncertainty? Don't let those nay-sayers deter you...you follow your dream, big boy. I leave you with these sage words of advice, uttered by Larry The Cable Guy--who, considering his parallel qualifications, you might want to think about taking on as your press secretary: Git-R-Done!
Even non-natural processes follow natural progressions. No company starts off in the Forbes 100; you start small, gain capital, employees, and revenue, and work your way up to stand tall with the big boys. No building goes from an architectural blueprint to a complete structure...that would be one magical erection. Nor does a business transaction go from idea to handshake. You get my point; there is an order to things, a way things should be done. Sometimes, however, something happens that makes one question the natural order of things. Something happens that makes one question LIFE as we know it.
 | ||
| LJ...posing hard Photo by Carol Highsmith [public domain], from Wikimedia Commons |
His education, you ask? S'all good. He clocked a few years of high school. Just enough to qualify him for mayor, not enough to be...you know...annoying.
Previous political experience? Hmm...that's a little tougher...I mean, he DID have a child out of wedlock and loves guns, does that qualify him? No? Not to worry! Like any other political leader, LJ is undoubtedly poised to surround himself with the best and brightest minds of our time. Potential candidates may include such qualified individuals as Paris Hilton for campaign manager, Spencer Pratt for head speech writer, and of course, Levi's twice almost-mother-in-law Sarah Palin for the newly-created position of Chief Mama Grizzly (responsibilities include raising funds, garnering public support, and organizing weekly moose hunts. And getting booed at Dancing With The Stars--OH NO YOU DIH-UNT!!!).
Not sure how you'll keep up with all the enthralling election excitement? Don't worry about missing the fun; the whole ridiculosity will be documented in Levi's upcoming reality series, Loving Levi: The Road to the Mayor's Office. Yup...that's right...watch out, I <3 NY reruns, there's a NEW contender in town!
What this all comes down to is...
HOW ON GOD'S SWEET GREEN EARTH DOES LEVI JOHNSTON THINK HE'S QUALIFIED TO RUN FOR MAYOR OF ANYTHING MORE THAN HIS SPORT ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT ISSUE POSTER-RIDDEN BEDROOM??????? THIS GOES DIRECTLY AGAINST THE NATURAL ORDER OF THINGS!!! You don't 1) drop out of high school, 2) become a public figure by getting your famous not-wife pregnant, 3) pose for the most popular nudie rag in the world, and THEN RUN FOR MAYOR!!! That's just...just...INSANE!!
I can understand that some people take longer to mature than others (I, myself, fall into this category, as evidenced by the fact that I am 29 years old and, at this exact moment, am laughing at the fact that one of my ferrets just farted while pooping. On my carpet, mind you.). Youthful indiscretions can be excused through the passage of time. But, the line's gotta be drawn somewhere. It's not like the good Sir Johnston built his impressive resume when he was a kid and we can chalk it up to the fumblings of inexperience...IT. WAS. LAST. YEAR.
Levi, I wish you the best of luck. Not just because you'll need a ridonkulous amount of it. But because you've got the cojones to jump into the abyss, knowing full well the futility of it all. So what if you're completely, utterly, painfully unqualified? So what if your inane aspirations are disrupting the space-time continuum, potentially throwing off the rotation of the planet and sending our futures spiraling into uncertainty? Don't let those nay-sayers deter you...you follow your dream, big boy. I leave you with these sage words of advice, uttered by Larry The Cable Guy--who, considering his parallel qualifications, you might want to think about taking on as your press secretary: Git-R-Done!
Rally To Restore Sanity FAQs
Ye who have questions, come hither for answers! The rally is drawing near and the good folks behind the RTRS have released a FAQs page that addresses all your rally-related queries. Pay special attention to the list of things that you are NOT permitted to bring to the event (sorry, kids, no explosive devices this time).
RTRS FAQs Page
Be safe. Be sane. (their quote, not mine. My choice would be "Rally Out With Your Shwally Out.")
RTRS FAQs Page
Be safe. Be sane. (their quote, not mine. My choice would be "Rally Out With Your Shwally Out.")
Saturday, October 2, 2010
FROBlog HITS 1000!!!
Ladies and gents, I can't believe it. I don't know how we did it, but somehow FROBlog just surpassed the one-thousand hit mark! (according to my handy dandy little hit counter at the bottom of the page...you see it, right?...there it is....above the ridiculously long privacy statement?....)
Yes, what started out as an anti-blog blog, created solely to provide unrequested--and potentially unwanted--honeymoon updates to family and friends, has megamorphed into an viral Internet phenomenon of unparalleled proportions!!! MWAHAHAHA!!!!!!
Ok...so....that may be a bit of an overstatement...especially considering my little hit counter also registers as "hits" the times that I visit the blog...which probably accounts for no less than one third of all hits received....
THAT SAID, a big thanks to all you fine readers out there! I truly appreciate your frequenting FROBlog and hope you keep coming back so I can rack up another thousand hits and take FROBlog deeper into the vast abyss that is cyberspace. Please feel free to share FROBlog with your friends (or enemies, depending on how you feel about my writing style) and if you have any suggestions or topics on which you'd like to see me post, send 'em my way. I figure, if enough people start readin' this thing, I can quit my job search and focus 100% of my time on writing these quasi-relevant, mildy humorous, regularly bizarre posts for your viewing pleasure! Take THAT, Juris Doctor...JUDO CHOP!!
Thanks everyone...keep on a-clickin'!
Anti-bloggingly yours,
JFro
Yes, what started out as an anti-blog blog, created solely to provide unrequested--and potentially unwanted--honeymoon updates to family and friends, has megamorphed into an viral Internet phenomenon of unparalleled proportions!!! MWAHAHAHA!!!!!!
Ok...so....that may be a bit of an overstatement...especially considering my little hit counter also registers as "hits" the times that I visit the blog...which probably accounts for no less than one third of all hits received....
THAT SAID, a big thanks to all you fine readers out there! I truly appreciate your frequenting FROBlog and hope you keep coming back so I can rack up another thousand hits and take FROBlog deeper into the vast abyss that is cyberspace. Please feel free to share FROBlog with your friends (or enemies, depending on how you feel about my writing style) and if you have any suggestions or topics on which you'd like to see me post, send 'em my way. I figure, if enough people start readin' this thing, I can quit my job search and focus 100% of my time on writing these quasi-relevant, mildy humorous, regularly bizarre posts for your viewing pleasure! Take THAT, Juris Doctor...JUDO CHOP!!
Thanks everyone...keep on a-clickin'!
Anti-bloggingly yours,
JFro
Obama endorses Rally To Restore Sanity!...or, um, something that sounds like that...
Hell, if the PRESIDENT endorses it....
The Obamalama himself plugged Jon Stewart's rally at a recent meeting with some youngins. Well, he KINDA said something that sounded like "Rally to Restore Sanity." But, I dig where you're coming from, Mr. President. You support the rally, but you don't want to seem TOO supportive. You want people to think that you know about it, but not so much about it that it mars your desired image of political neutrality. That's right, I got ya numbah, Mr. President. So, you'll be there? C'mon, Good Sir "In-Chief," do it for the kids!
FOLLOW FROBLOG TODAY!!!
The Obamalama himself plugged Jon Stewart's rally at a recent meeting with some youngins. Well, he KINDA said something that sounded like "Rally to Restore Sanity." But, I dig where you're coming from, Mr. President. You support the rally, but you don't want to seem TOO supportive. You want people to think that you know about it, but not so much about it that it mars your desired image of political neutrality. That's right, I got ya numbah, Mr. President. So, you'll be there? C'mon, Good Sir "In-Chief," do it for the kids!
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| BBQ & A | ||||
| ||||
FOLLOW FROBLOG TODAY!!!
Friday, October 1, 2010
John Roberts, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED...
There's a certain news anchor out there who just lights up our lives.
She's got everything one could want in a woman: style...class...Nepalese heritage. Her name means "ray of light" in Sanskrit, for garsh sakes. Her luminous smile is matched only by her perfectly done "do," framing her face like a....like a.....a really nice picture frame frames a picture. Of a face.
The woman I speak of, of course, is the one-and-only, Kiran Chetry.
And while she DOES hail from Fox and Friends, we're willing to overlook that little blip in her record because she partakes in activities like dressing up as Lara Croft for Halloween and riding a pogo stick in high heels (fer reals, y'all...that is not just a personal fantasy. Well, ok, to clarify, it IS a personal fantasy. But it also happened. Fer reals.).
This news-delivering angel from heaven deserves our admiration and respect. And I will NOT stand idly by while some wacky tie-wearing, poorly-coiffed pseudo-pundit disrespects her on live television! Yes, that's right, I'm talking about YOU, John Roberts of CNN's popular morning news program American Morning. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, please watch the following clip (and try your best not to backslap your computer screen at about 0:39 seconds in...**lip-curled snarl**):
**GASP!** Sir, I bite my thumb at thee! How darest thou? HOW DAREST?! I don't care if Kiran was performing twisting backflips in the nude with a flaming baton in her mouth...handle it OFF THE AIR, ROBERTS. You're a professional, damn it. You don't hear Kiran making mid-segment, on-the-air comments to you about your baffling shirt/tie pattern combination choices, do you? (on that note, the last time I stared at you for longer than 5 seconds, a 3D sailboat popped out from your chest).
John Roberts, while I was, admittedly, not a huge fan of yours before now, this incident has truly marred our viewer-anchor relationship, taking it past the point of possible restoration. I can't even look at you without seeing the visage of Kiran's scared, wide-eyed expression ...like a kitten...a poor defenseless kitten...who was just trying to lap up some spilled milk in a back alley next to a fine Italian restaurant when a fierce-looking chef, moustachioed like Snidely Whiplash, bursts out the backdoor and yells at it to 'scram!!' (I don't speak Italian, but I do believe "scram" loosely translates to "time for kitten kabobs!").
Maybe you had a poor night's sleep. Maybe your Labor Day vacation was rudely interrupted by an ill-timed phone call from the "I Love Stiff On-Air Banter" fan club. Maybe you're sick and tired of picking out pillow shams and other registry items with fiancee and fellow-CNN anchor Kyra Phillips (ok, THAT I can understand...in fact, if you ever just want to let off some steam, I'm here for you, bruh). But, c'mon, who do you think you are...Christian Bale? And, no, you may not draw comparisons from the fact that you both speak in different accents, on camera, from your native tongues, Mr. Once-Canadian. Until you don a Batman cowl and attempt to save the world from the forces of evil, you may NOT draw attention to our beloved Ms. Chetry's distracting behavior until the next commercial break.
Poor taste, sir. Poor taste. **giving a thumbs down**
She's got everything one could want in a woman: style...class...Nepalese heritage. Her name means "ray of light" in Sanskrit, for garsh sakes. Her luminous smile is matched only by her perfectly done "do," framing her face like a....like a.....a really nice picture frame frames a picture. Of a face.
 | ||||
| Kiran "News with a sparkle" Chetry Photo by mroach via Creative Commons |
And while she DOES hail from Fox and Friends, we're willing to overlook that little blip in her record because she partakes in activities like dressing up as Lara Croft for Halloween and riding a pogo stick in high heels (fer reals, y'all...that is not just a personal fantasy. Well, ok, to clarify, it IS a personal fantasy. But it also happened. Fer reals.).
This news-delivering angel from heaven deserves our admiration and respect. And I will NOT stand idly by while some wacky tie-wearing, poorly-coiffed pseudo-pundit disrespects her on live television! Yes, that's right, I'm talking about YOU, John Roberts of CNN's popular morning news program American Morning. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, please watch the following clip (and try your best not to backslap your computer screen at about 0:39 seconds in...**lip-curled snarl**):
**GASP!** Sir, I bite my thumb at thee! How darest thou? HOW DAREST?! I don't care if Kiran was performing twisting backflips in the nude with a flaming baton in her mouth...handle it OFF THE AIR, ROBERTS. You're a professional, damn it. You don't hear Kiran making mid-segment, on-the-air comments to you about your baffling shirt/tie pattern combination choices, do you? (on that note, the last time I stared at you for longer than 5 seconds, a 3D sailboat popped out from your chest).
John Roberts, while I was, admittedly, not a huge fan of yours before now, this incident has truly marred our viewer-anchor relationship, taking it past the point of possible restoration. I can't even look at you without seeing the visage of Kiran's scared, wide-eyed expression ...like a kitten...a poor defenseless kitten...who was just trying to lap up some spilled milk in a back alley next to a fine Italian restaurant when a fierce-looking chef, moustachioed like Snidely Whiplash, bursts out the backdoor and yells at it to 'scram!!' (I don't speak Italian, but I do believe "scram" loosely translates to "time for kitten kabobs!").
Maybe you had a poor night's sleep. Maybe your Labor Day vacation was rudely interrupted by an ill-timed phone call from the "I Love Stiff On-Air Banter" fan club. Maybe you're sick and tired of picking out pillow shams and other registry items with fiancee and fellow-CNN anchor Kyra Phillips (ok, THAT I can understand...in fact, if you ever just want to let off some steam, I'm here for you, bruh). But, c'mon, who do you think you are...Christian Bale? And, no, you may not draw comparisons from the fact that you both speak in different accents, on camera, from your native tongues, Mr. Once-Canadian. Until you don a Batman cowl and attempt to save the world from the forces of evil, you may NOT draw attention to our beloved Ms. Chetry's distracting behavior until the next commercial break.
Poor taste, sir. Poor taste. **giving a thumbs down**
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Shooting at the University of Texas
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
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
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)