Spidercricket Graveyard

Upon emerging from the basement with a glass vase in her hands, The Wife just proclaimed, "So, I found the vase...and it's currently serving as a spidercricket graveyard."

I don't think I've blogged about the mutant species of spider we have been breeding in our basement ever since I was a child...so in case you aren't aware, there are such things as "spidercrickets."  Arachnis Cricketacious, I believe they are called--don't quote me on that (b/c it's not true).  Anyway, we started seeing these little freaks of nature many-a-year ago and dubbed them spidercrickets due to their many freaky deaky legs and tendency to jump around like a giddy Andy Dick.  Only later we realized that they, in fact, actually are called spidercrickets and had been discovered by not just our family, but modern science as well.  That fact aside, having already staked our claim in the discovery of this horrific accident of a species, we continued to contemplate how we'd co-exist with these ugly basement dwellers.  And they are ugly.  I mean, U-G-L-Y.  They've also been the source of high entertainment over the years.  We dubbed my Dad The Spidercricket Hunter after his patented broomstick-killing technique proved not only most effective, but consistently intriguing (most of the time, the man was a beacon of calm and tranquility...but when it came to hunting spidercrickets, his speed and reflexes were unparalleled.  It was practically a superpower.).  One time, he came upstairs from the basement and, unbeknownst to him, a spidercricket had taken up residence on the back of his shirt.  Seizing the opportunity, I took the liberty of smacking the crap out of his shoulder while my sister, deeply arachnophobic, proceeded to dry heave uncontrollably.  A good time was had by all.

So, The Wife brings up this vase containing about 6 dearly departed spidercrickets (it was hard to tell exactly how many were inside considering they were not all...um...how shall I put this...properly limbed?).  It became obvious that the spidercrickets didn't just go their to meet their demise, but the vase--the type you get for free from 1-800-Flowers--was perfectly shaped for spidercricket trapping, having a wide belly but a thin opening.  It made me think about how, if we knew about this unintentional and ingenious trapping technique years ago, we could have saved ourselves hours...nay...days of frustration running after (or from) these pesky critters.  But, then we wouldn't have been able to watch the Spidercricket Hunter at work.  Or watch my sister descend into traumatic states of horror-filled agony.  And where's the fun in that?

But the FIRST thing I thought about was how cool of a band name SPIDERCRICKET GRAVEYARD would be.  Which then prompted me to add it to the list (albeit short) of awesome band names I've been populating over the years.  So, without further ado, I submit to you:

JFro's List of Awesome Band Names!!

Artificial Sweden
Laser Post
Microscopic Spike (this was a product of the same late-night, post-party college conversation that produced "Laser Post"...the brain cells were a little thin by this point and I only remember the basis of Microscopic Spike.  But Laser Post still sounded cool enough to make the list.)
Whorch
The Gamgee Machine

and finally...

Spidercricket Graveyard!

(note: these are all original creations.  They all have meanings, available upon request.  They are all copyrighted by me.  If I hear that Whorch is coming out with a new album and I'm not personally involved, I'm gonna come after you with the wrath and anger of 10,000 real housewives of NYC).

Compliments That Aren't

You are sexy like houndstooth.

You make me feel as good as when I get a decent, inexpensive haircut.

I love your taste in Internet service providers.

You make me want to be a better farmer.

When I see you from across the room, I don't feel compelled to leave.

You're so smart, you should work for a large electronics chain.

If you emailed me, I'd respond as soon as was convenient.

You make me want to play chess.

T-Shirt Posedown

I recently emailed Busted Tees asking to be one of their t-shirt models.  Actually, it was more of a rant than a request.  Nevertheless, I told them to check out my blog for examples of my t-shirt posing expertise (if you weren't aware, I have extensive t-shirt posing experience.  Mostly posing to myself, in front of my mirror.  And, by "mostly," I mean "only.").  Busted Tees, I present to you...the posedown:

Pensive.

Can I get you a drink?

I call this pose Cap'n Awesome.  Or, simply, "BOOM."

No, seriously, I'm not advertising for 2nd Ave. Deli...though they are SICK good.

There you have it, Busted Tees, my t-shirt posing resume.  As you can see, I wear a t-shirt like a t-shirt is meant to be worn...with heart.  I eagerly await your response.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

IF I AM CAUGHT DRIVING BEHIND ONE MORE FREAKIN' MORON WHO'S NOT GOING THE SPEED LIMIT AND WAVERING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE LINES LIKE LINDSAY LOHAN ON A TUESDAY NIGHT, ONLY TO LATER FIND OUT THEY WERE ON THEIR FREAKIN' CELL PHONE FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES, DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND THE OTHER ON THAT VACUOUS SKIN-TONED KICKBALL THAT RESTS ATOP THEIR DROOPED SHOULDERS, I'M GOING TO MOUNT A GUN TURRET ON MY CAR, CRY HAVOC AND RELEASE THE MOTHERTRUCKING DOGS OF WAR ON THIS TOWN, YOU SONOFAB*)@)&$)#*)%*)#$%)@)$(^%^($)#_@garybusey)#%(*)^@*#!@^*#!($@#S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

From beastly to...well...less beastly

Last Saturday was the big St. Baldrick's shave-a-thon.  Was a great turnout and the event raised a ton o' cash--THANK YOU, drunk people of DC!  I underwent a pretty drastic transformation, going from heavily hirsute to brutally bald over the course of a few minutes.  Hmmm...from tremendous growth to barren fields...kind of like Nicholas Cage's career?  Ooooooo!  ZING!  Buuuuuuuuurn. (sike...love you, Cage.  But, seriously, stop going bankrupt.)

Observe the worm going into its cocoon and becoming...an even balder worm:

Quite the beast.  Kinda like an emo Darth Vader.

Ahhh!  Don't get too close...it bites!!

Yes...they managed to find a scalp under that rug.

Boom.

Now my head is cold, my jaw is warm, and I look kind of like a young Obadiah Stane.  While I don't think the look is a permanent fixture, I kinda dig it and think I'll keep it around for a short while (I can feel The Wife scowling at me from where ever she is right now).  Definitely ups my street cred (previously clocked at "-8") .  I was opening the door to walk into an Einstein Bagels the other day when a middle-aged gentleman was trying to exit at the same time.  He glanced up at me, a frightened look came over his face, and he backed away from the door.  I held it open, smiled, and beckoned him through.  Then had a lil' chuckle to myself.

Yeah, definitely not losing the look for a while...

"I WISH my beard was youthful
and brown like JFro's..."

Hero of the Day - Ali Velshi

The Velsh, via CreativeCommons

Famed CNN anchor and chief spokesperson for HIFSA (Hair Is For Suckas Association) Ali Velshi officially became the biggest celebrity with whom I have ever communicated yesterday after he not only retweeted my St. Baldrick's video to all of his followers, but personally responded to one of my tweets.  I got a little faklempt.

Good Sir Velshi, I salute you.  Some may refer to you as the HAIRLESS PROPHET OF DOOM (which, for the record, is possibly the coolest nickname for which one could strive...aside from "Gooch"), but I like to think of you as a beacon...

...a beacon of skull-refracted light...

...sending out a message of to the droves of like-craniumed wanderers looking for a sign of calm amidst a raging sea of ignorant and foolhardy well-coiffed scoundrels!!!

That message: Rock the Dome.

Murphy can suck it.

Driving to work this morning.  First day on the job.  5 min behind schedule.  No time for shenanigans.

4 traffic light backups,
3 fender-bender rubberneckings,
2 school buses loading ridiculous amounts of anklebiters,
and 1 unexpected morning sheet of icy snow on the windshield LATER, I arrived to work only 25 min late.

RIDONKEY.

Why I love Sunday mornings...

3 egg omelet with green pepper, onion, tomato, jalapeno, garlic, cheese.  And the requisite fakin' bacon.
Thank you, The Wife!

WINNING!

First!

This. Is. My. BOOMSTICK!!

If you're achin' for some UK love, tune your interwebdials into the The Boomstick Show!  This podcast combines techno mashups, current events, occasional discussions of the fashion implications of anal probing, and of course, the witty repartee you'd expect from one of the Queen's finest.

Go to http://theboomstickshow.wordpress.com/ to start streamin' immediately  Specifically, tune in to today's show (3/4/11) where the goodly host mentions YOURS TRULY at some point about 10 min or so into the show...which officially makes me a worldwide internet sensation, if I understand correctly the rules of internet celebrity.  Next stop, becoming white-scribbled picture fodder for Perez Hilton!  Please, please, no pictures...

Happy Friday, World!

PS - Daft Punk rules.
PPS - Ok, I've really only heard "Around the World."  But THAT song is deck.

Pshh, Phuck That

I will admit, first and foremost, that I'm not an old school Phishhead...as Phishheads go.  I started listening to their tunes around the mid-ish 90s (*cough*1999*cough) and went to my first show in 2000 (Hershey).  It was amazing.  From the First Tube opener to the Possum encore, I was captivated by the lights, sounds, and (ok, gonna get a little hippie on ya for a sec) the feeling that surrounded the whole experience like a warm blanket of patchouli-scented happiness.  So, I consider myself to be in the second of three categories of Phishheads--based upon the time in which one started appreciating the band; 1) the originals, 2) the latecomers, 3) the fratboy posers/the druggie grungetrashers/the neohippies.  No judging, of course...just my take on the fanbase's demographic breakdown over the past almost 30 years.

So, admittedly, I wasn't around in the very beginning.  But I have been a huge phan for over 10 years now and know a thing or two about how things used to be.  Tickets, for instance, used to be sold routinely for $20.  Every show--$20.  Yes, my little economists, you take inflation into account and $20 in the mid-80s amounted to a little more than $20 now.  But, still, it was very reasonable for a live show and went along perfectly with Phish's ideology of wanting everyone to be able to enjoy their music.  Practically anyone could afford tickets and, unlike today, anyone could actually GET tickets (i.e. the supply didn't really outweigh the demand).  "Touring" with Phish was a realistic endeavor, both practically and financially.  Not the case anymore.  Nowadays, to get Phish tickets in advance of the show, one has to jump through a variety of lottery-based hoops for the opportunity to pay exorbitantly for even general admission entrance (and, yes, "exorbitantly" is anything from twice as much as "the good ol' days" upward).  I'm not completely opposed to the lottery system, per se--I think it's a good thing that people have a chance to get tickets over and above the oft-futile practice of riding the Ticketmaster bottleneck.  Where my problem lies is in the cost.

Noticing, this morning, that Phish posted their 2011 Summer Tour schedule online (could have been weeks ago...I've been a little out-of-the-loop, shall we say), I followed the links to the site through which I could enter my name into the lottery.  But, when given the option to select the type/quantity of tickets, I noticed they were all $60.  $60?????  Per ticket????  WTPh?  What happened to the whole 'anyone should be able to come see Phish play' concept?  What happened to "music for the masses?"  Yeah, I understand that Phish has outgrown it's 1983 britches but COME ON!

Don't get me wrong, the shows are sick. Absolutely worth attending.  Technically (musically) amazing, visually stunning, and just plain FUN.  But for $60 a pop?  Does that include one of Fishman's sweaty polka-dotted dresses??  Or at least a personal high-pitched serenade by The Chairman of the Boards?  It's almost a good thing that one's chances of getting tickets to multiple shows aren't very high--at least that way you won't be tempted into poverty!

I would love to think that the band doesn't know what's going on and would put the kibosh on the whole operation if they did...but I'm not that naive.  Which just makes it all the worse to think they have strayed that far from their roots (ok, perhaps that comment is a bit naive, as well :)).  Regardless, I'm pretty damn bitter over the whole thing and will not be throwing my name into the lottery for any summer tour tickets at present.  I feel like I'm being taken...and yet I can't put my finger on exactly who is doing the taking.  So, if I can score some cheaper tix on CraigsList or maybe even by showing up at the venue the day of, great.  But I, for one, can't in good conscience drop $60 on tickets for a band that used to pride themselves on catering to the little guy.  Well, maybe won't--not can't--is the more appropriate word.

Sorry Trey, Mike, Fish, and Page...love your music, but the happiness is a little too expensive.

The Hair Cometh Off!

After two years of barely any haircuts and way too much money spent on conditioner, it is time for some St. Baldrick's action once again.  But lo!  What is this madness?  A video?  Have a looksey.



Good people of Blogtopia...please, if nothing else, help me spread the word by FORWARDING THIS VIDEO/POST.  While it's important that I reach my goal of $10k by March 12, it's of even greater importance that more and more people find out about the organization and what it does.

And if you've never been to a St. Baldy's event at Fado's, clear your calendar.  It's a blast.  It's gone from merely a head shaving event to having raffles, prizes, and...oh...did I mention it's at Fado's?  Yeah, cuz you've ever not had a good time there...

Thanks for watching and helping spread the word.  If you've ever seen the devastating effects cancer can have on a person and their family, you know how necessary it is that we stop this disease.  Now.

SEE YOU ON THE 12th!

Click to donate!! http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/431590

NOOOOO!! Not you, too!!

Just found out that Bass Ale was bought out by Anheuser-Busch (InBev)*...

Uch.

Can't the man keep their damn manny hands off my Bass???**

And, yes, I am writing this after watching BeerWars.  Awesome movie...watch it whether you're a beer lover, an America lover, or just a lover of JUSTICE, DAMN IT!

*Anheuser-Busch, if you're reading this and were planning on sponsoring FROBlog, please disregard this post.  I can and am fully prepared to be bought.
 
**Yes, I know this is old news.  But I just found out about it.  So suck it.

This aggression will STILL not stand, man!

Picture via gothamist.com

Rumors of a Lebowski 2 hit the tabloid circuit after Tara "Girl Next Door...if Amy Winehouse is your other neighbor" Reid spilled the beans to some people with microphones a few days ago.  Immediately excited (peed myself...twice), I started imagining what a sequel to the Cohen Bros.1998 smash hit would entail.  More bowling drama...more White Russians...more MICturition.  And, of course, more The Jesus.  The Dude and Company (sorry, Donny...you'll be in our hearts ) will be hard-pressed to one-up their original cinematic hijinx, but I have faith.  After all, in the words of our favorite mustachioed narrator, "The Dude abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that."


Predictions for Lebowski 2's plot??  Leave a comment!

Just too good to pass up...

Michele Bachmann and Fright Night Vampire (CLICK ME!)