Oh man, I don't usually write in here more than once a day but this is what intelligent people with large, flowing vocabularies call an "extenuating circumstance." However, my vocabulary is not quite as immense so I'm just going to call it "weird."
Anyway, when last we spoke I was going to go get some nachos from the food place and as it turns out, I did. On the way, though, I took a detour through heaven on earth. Now usually people see heaven as a place full of shiny-ness and cloud things and people with little wings and white pantsuits. While that is close to the truth, it's not quite right. It just so happens that heaven is a giant box in which a tuba was shipped but which has had the tuba removed and now all that remains is an ocean of packing peanuts.
Needless to say, I swam in these packing peanuts. The box must have been five to six feet long and two to three feet deep. It was incredible. The box was filled to the brim with packing peanuts and I swam and swam and swam. Eventually, someone came by and told me to stop. I think it was a music professor.
I just thought I'd let you guys know.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Figgle-Eyed Crow
Today was a good day in that I did not forget to wear pants to class. In fact, there has never been an occasion where I have done otherwise so I think that it is safe to say that my entire life has been quite good.
I also made my hair look awesome today. I don't know how I did it but I did it. Unfortunately I messed it up shortly after I styled it because I went in for a closer look in order to bask in its textured goodness and accidentally hit my head on the wall and squished my hair against the mirror. I hadn't the time to fix it so I left the dorm with it as it was and have neglected to attend to it all day.
I also became suddenly very itchy as I left the food court at lunch and I don't know why. This sometimes happens very often.
In genetics today I answered a question regarding regulators and repressor proteins. It wasn't a very difficult questions but the rest of the people in my class are dumbasses and did not know the answer. I'm like the dark horse of the class in that I am a physics major in a crowd of biology majors and I score better than them on exams.
Oh yeah, on the way to class today I saw an old man curse out a crow because he was "figgle-eyed." I don't know what this means exactly, but in my opinion the man was quite figgle-eyed himself. Perhaps he and the crow are brothers. And what about those shirts you used to wear in elementary school that computer nerds in college still wear with the giant picture of an animal like a wolf or a tiger on the front? Supposedly the proceeds from the sale of them goes to helping keep the animal on the shirt from being endangered, or if it already is, keep it from becoming extinct. The trouble with these shirts (and the reason I never got one as a child or as a computer nerd) is that the animals aren't grateful for you donation. No. They are just as likely to eat you if you have one of their shirts on or not. A bear does not care.
Hmm, "A Bear Does Not Care," that's a pretty good title for a poem. I will write it out in it's entirety tomorrow and post it here on my bloggidy blog.
Anyway, tonight I get to go over to the freshman dorm and take part in a membership review board meeting. It's exciting because we get to kick people out of our club. It's sort of like in that Berenstain Bears book "No Girls Allowed" when Brother Bear had that drawbridge he used to keep Sister Bear out of his secret clubhouse. The only difference is that our club doesn't have a drawbridge. And we let girls in. In fact, the president is a girl and so are 90% of the club's members.
Damn. I need to get me a moat.
I also made my hair look awesome today. I don't know how I did it but I did it. Unfortunately I messed it up shortly after I styled it because I went in for a closer look in order to bask in its textured goodness and accidentally hit my head on the wall and squished my hair against the mirror. I hadn't the time to fix it so I left the dorm with it as it was and have neglected to attend to it all day.
I also became suddenly very itchy as I left the food court at lunch and I don't know why. This sometimes happens very often.
In genetics today I answered a question regarding regulators and repressor proteins. It wasn't a very difficult questions but the rest of the people in my class are dumbasses and did not know the answer. I'm like the dark horse of the class in that I am a physics major in a crowd of biology majors and I score better than them on exams.
Oh yeah, on the way to class today I saw an old man curse out a crow because he was "figgle-eyed." I don't know what this means exactly, but in my opinion the man was quite figgle-eyed himself. Perhaps he and the crow are brothers. And what about those shirts you used to wear in elementary school that computer nerds in college still wear with the giant picture of an animal like a wolf or a tiger on the front? Supposedly the proceeds from the sale of them goes to helping keep the animal on the shirt from being endangered, or if it already is, keep it from becoming extinct. The trouble with these shirts (and the reason I never got one as a child or as a computer nerd) is that the animals aren't grateful for you donation. No. They are just as likely to eat you if you have one of their shirts on or not. A bear does not care.
Hmm, "A Bear Does Not Care," that's a pretty good title for a poem. I will write it out in it's entirety tomorrow and post it here on my bloggidy blog.
Anyway, tonight I get to go over to the freshman dorm and take part in a membership review board meeting. It's exciting because we get to kick people out of our club. It's sort of like in that Berenstain Bears book "No Girls Allowed" when Brother Bear had that drawbridge he used to keep Sister Bear out of his secret clubhouse. The only difference is that our club doesn't have a drawbridge. And we let girls in. In fact, the president is a girl and so are 90% of the club's members.
Damn. I need to get me a moat.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Hey, I Can Dream
Dear Green Lantern Kyle Rayner,
You are probably my most favorite superhero ever. If you ever get mortally wounded would you please pass your ring of power on to me so that I may become the next Green Lantern?
Thank you in advance for the powers,
Rob
P.S.
I promise not to fuck things up and kill everyone like Hal Jordan.
You are probably my most favorite superhero ever. If you ever get mortally wounded would you please pass your ring of power on to me so that I may become the next Green Lantern?
Thank you in advance for the powers,
Rob
P.S.
I promise not to fuck things up and kill everyone like Hal Jordan.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Flashback Friday: Dick Cheney Stole My Internet (10/15/04)
Haven't done one of these flashbacks in a while, so here goes:
On Wednesday Dick Cheney was here at Allegheny College. He was here to talk about how awesome he is or something. Supposedly Pennsylvania is something called a "swing state" and that means that people here like to hear lies more than people in other states. Wow, that last sentence was actually kind of politically charged--I don't think I've ever said, written, or mumbled under my breath anything politically charged before. Better log this day in my JOURNAL! WOW! That's what I'm doing right now! Holy crap! This is awesome! I'm recording events to be reexamined at a later date! Sweet! So anyway, I thought that the event would be worthy of one of my poems so here it goes. I've been toiling over this one for about three minutes now and I think it's turning out a-okay. Enjoy it or leave:
Dick Cheney came to my school,
Dick Cheney came today,
He brought his thirteen buses,
And then Dick went away.
But nigh before he sped off,
Into the sunset there,
He gave a heartfelt speech here,
and then his pants did tear.
Alright I faked that last one,
But hey it sort of fit,
I couldn't help it sorry,
I'll get on with this shit.
So Dick was here on Wednesday,
The cops were by his side,
This guy had some cool trailer,
Kerry givin' Bush a ride.
The day was not all fun though,
It was no cup of tea,
I had to walk 'round Edwards,
'Round Edwards just to pee.
They closed all of the roads here,
Not one not three but two,
I could not get to class then,
Nigh God could not get through.
I got back to my room then,
My room all warm and snug,
I tried to get my email,
But Dick had pulled the plug.
That's right he took our access,
He took our Internet,
Of course that's just conjecture,
But I'm willing to bet.
Who does he think he is, huh?
Is he so great first rate?
I wish I had a name-gun,
"Dick Cheney" meet your fate.
You might not get that last one,
That stanza's pretty vague,
Unless you're Seth or me my,
Or if you have the plague.
There was this sweet ass protest,
Outside the gym doors lined,
The liberals had these big signs,
And chants that blew my mind.
How could a human think these,
These chants that rocked my world,
"Drop Bush, not bombs" they shouted,
My hair it almost curled.
That's it that's all they've got here?
That's all that they can say?
At least shout out some curse words,
"Hey Bush F*** you, bay-bay."
Of course I am no liberal,
I ain't no Commi none,
Conservative no nothing,
I'm Rob just Rob my son.
But all and all that day was,
Sweet sweeter than sweet sweet,
My poem's almost done now,
Can't b'lieve I kept a beat.
So you know what they say there,
They say just what they say,
The walrus and the carpenter,
In all had one fine day.
Well, that's my poem and I hope you liked it. I have to say that I don't actually know what the word "nigh" means but I like to use it as some kind of negation or a one syllable "nada" or "nothing" or something. When you get down to it though, it doesn't really matter because it's poetry and honestly, how can you criticize something that is defined as "a pile of day old puke not fit for a dung beetle to die in"? That's right--you can't. That's poetry for you. Vomit. Brown, chunky vomit. Take that poetry.
On Wednesday Dick Cheney was here at Allegheny College. He was here to talk about how awesome he is or something. Supposedly Pennsylvania is something called a "swing state" and that means that people here like to hear lies more than people in other states. Wow, that last sentence was actually kind of politically charged--I don't think I've ever said, written, or mumbled under my breath anything politically charged before. Better log this day in my JOURNAL! WOW! That's what I'm doing right now! Holy crap! This is awesome! I'm recording events to be reexamined at a later date! Sweet! So anyway, I thought that the event would be worthy of one of my poems so here it goes. I've been toiling over this one for about three minutes now and I think it's turning out a-okay. Enjoy it or leave:
Dick Cheney came to my school,
Dick Cheney came today,
He brought his thirteen buses,
And then Dick went away.
But nigh before he sped off,
Into the sunset there,
He gave a heartfelt speech here,
and then his pants did tear.
Alright I faked that last one,
But hey it sort of fit,
I couldn't help it sorry,
I'll get on with this shit.
So Dick was here on Wednesday,
The cops were by his side,
This guy had some cool trailer,
Kerry givin' Bush a ride.
The day was not all fun though,
It was no cup of tea,
I had to walk 'round Edwards,
'Round Edwards just to pee.
They closed all of the roads here,
Not one not three but two,
I could not get to class then,
Nigh God could not get through.
I got back to my room then,
My room all warm and snug,
I tried to get my email,
But Dick had pulled the plug.
That's right he took our access,
He took our Internet,
Of course that's just conjecture,
But I'm willing to bet.
Who does he think he is, huh?
Is he so great first rate?
I wish I had a name-gun,
"Dick Cheney" meet your fate.
You might not get that last one,
That stanza's pretty vague,
Unless you're Seth or me my,
Or if you have the plague.
There was this sweet ass protest,
Outside the gym doors lined,
The liberals had these big signs,
And chants that blew my mind.
How could a human think these,
These chants that rocked my world,
"Drop Bush, not bombs" they shouted,
My hair it almost curled.
That's it that's all they've got here?
That's all that they can say?
At least shout out some curse words,
"Hey Bush F*** you, bay-bay."
Of course I am no liberal,
I ain't no Commi none,
Conservative no nothing,
I'm Rob just Rob my son.
But all and all that day was,
Sweet sweeter than sweet sweet,
My poem's almost done now,
Can't b'lieve I kept a beat.
So you know what they say there,
They say just what they say,
The walrus and the carpenter,
In all had one fine day.
Well, that's my poem and I hope you liked it. I have to say that I don't actually know what the word "nigh" means but I like to use it as some kind of negation or a one syllable "nada" or "nothing" or something. When you get down to it though, it doesn't really matter because it's poetry and honestly, how can you criticize something that is defined as "a pile of day old puke not fit for a dung beetle to die in"? That's right--you can't. That's poetry for you. Vomit. Brown, chunky vomit. Take that poetry.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
The Spirit of Valentine's Day
Once upon a time there was a boy named Rob. On Valentine's Day he ate so much chocolate that he died. Nobody cared because they were having too much fun eating chocolate.
The day after Valentine's Day the medical examiner performed an autopsy on Rob to see how he had died. She made the first incision, and from the fleshy crevice oozed a thick river of delicious chocolate. She took some on her finger and licked it up and it reminded her of how much she loved Valentine's Day. She then went home.
The morgue night staff continued to use Rob's carcass as a giant chocolate fondue pot, and dipped strawberries in him all night long and into the morning.
As the sun rose over the horizon the next morning, the city dumped Rob's body into a ditch off the highway. After a few hours, a family of raccoons found his body and dragged it into the woods. The mother raccoon birthed her babies in his remains and they fed on the sweet chocolate nectar that dripped from his innards until spring when they left.
Over the months, Rob's body decomposed and returned to the soil. A few weeks later a cocoa plant sprouted from his final resting place and once it had matured, a bear cub strolled by and ate it up.
The bear cub smiled as it chewed. "Mmm...chocolate," he thought.
The End
Happy Valentine's Day!
The day after Valentine's Day the medical examiner performed an autopsy on Rob to see how he had died. She made the first incision, and from the fleshy crevice oozed a thick river of delicious chocolate. She took some on her finger and licked it up and it reminded her of how much she loved Valentine's Day. She then went home.
The morgue night staff continued to use Rob's carcass as a giant chocolate fondue pot, and dipped strawberries in him all night long and into the morning.
As the sun rose over the horizon the next morning, the city dumped Rob's body into a ditch off the highway. After a few hours, a family of raccoons found his body and dragged it into the woods. The mother raccoon birthed her babies in his remains and they fed on the sweet chocolate nectar that dripped from his innards until spring when they left.
Over the months, Rob's body decomposed and returned to the soil. A few weeks later a cocoa plant sprouted from his final resting place and once it had matured, a bear cub strolled by and ate it up.
The bear cub smiled as it chewed. "Mmm...chocolate," he thought.
The End
Happy Valentine's Day!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Fuck Flu!
All the students on campus received this email today from the college health center. I've excluded some of the boring stuff (read: practically all of it), and just left in the meat of the message:
"There is confirmed influenza on campus...It is important to note that influenza in the United States is not the same as the "avian flu" that you have read so much about in the news."Yeah, that's good stuff.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
New Nickname Needed
There's a question that's been bugging me for a few hours now:
How far do you have to be able to throw a pie for your friends to start calling you "Pie Cannon"?
How far do you have to be able to throw a pie for your friends to start calling you "Pie Cannon"?
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Missiles By Metro
Before I start writing this entry, I just want to make it clear that I am a huge proponent of surface-to-air missiles. Honestly. I believe that there are many tasks where these babies are without a doubt the best suited for the job. Tasks like:
But anyway, the meat of the entry. Regardless of how awesome surface-to-air missiles are, don't we all agree that they should remain in the hands of people we can trust? Yeah, I think so too. So wasn't I surprised when I was riding home from work on the Metro this summer and saw Stinger missiles located at every above-ground Metro station. Does this seem odd to anyone? Does it seem strange that the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority is in possession of surface-to-air missiles with a firing range of 5 miles, a sophisticated tracking ability using infrared radiation sensors, and the ability to hit almost any target with a heat signature with an altitude under 11,000 feet all from a man's shoulder?
Sure, I guess I don't know for sure if these large metal cases with the word "Stinger" written on them in big red block letters actually contain missiles. I suppose they could just be housing giant first aid kits for bee stinger removal in case the entire solar system got stung by bees at the same time. And did you know that killer bees are no deadlier than regular bees!?
But seriously, let's assume that the cases do have Stinger surface-to-air missiles in them. I have to admit that I don't like the idea that our nation's last line of defense against terrorists who want to blow me up are Metrorail drivers. I guess this is in large part due to the fact that Metro drivers do not actually drive the trains. They're kind of like the Queen of England or the King of Spain. Sure, they have fancy names, large, elaborate hats and a seemingly important and influential position, but they don't. They just sit there, smile at people, and walk around a little bit. Sometimes they throw a medal at you if you did something special but when you get down to it, they are the most useless, lazy, good-for-nothing, people in their entire country. I mean, think about it, nobody in their "royal bloodline" has had a real job in hundreds of years.
Do you realize that all Metro trains are controlled by a computer down at Metro headquarters and that the only reason they even need a human being "driving" the train is to open and close the doors and announce what the stops are? That's right. And if you've ever been on the Metro you'd know that these guys can't even do that. I ride the Metro home every day and every day there are at least five people that get crushed by the doors because the driver closes them on them. And what about the other 50% of the driver's job description? They must have that portion mastered, right? Wrong. Have you ever been able to hear what the Metro driver is saying? You know he's supposed to be saying Farragut West so why is it that you could have sworn he just said "Orange Town"? And since when does Smithsonian start with a K? I mean, I can understand screwing up L'Enfant Plaza because that's French. And who really knows how to speak French? Nobody.
The point is, if the government is going to hand out free missiles why did they decide to give them to the WMATA? Getting back to royalty for a moment, isn't it obvious that giving missiles to Metrorail drivers is as stupid as giving them to the Queen of England? I mean, they don't know what to do with them. Queen Elizabeth would probably sit down and have tea with it, put it in a parade, and then give it a medal.
- Blowing up things in the air from the surface.
- Blowing up things in the sky from the ground.
- Blowing up things in the firmament from the earth.
- Blowing up things not on the ground from not in the air.
- The opposite of blowing up things on the surface from the sky.
- Blowing up things in the air from the air and when I say "from the air" I mean "from the ground."
Yoink: An exclamation that, when uttered in conjunction with taking an object, immediately transfers ownership from the original owner to the person using the word regardless of previous property rights.Pretty sweet, huh?
But anyway, the meat of the entry. Regardless of how awesome surface-to-air missiles are, don't we all agree that they should remain in the hands of people we can trust? Yeah, I think so too. So wasn't I surprised when I was riding home from work on the Metro this summer and saw Stinger missiles located at every above-ground Metro station. Does this seem odd to anyone? Does it seem strange that the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority is in possession of surface-to-air missiles with a firing range of 5 miles, a sophisticated tracking ability using infrared radiation sensors, and the ability to hit almost any target with a heat signature with an altitude under 11,000 feet all from a man's shoulder?
Sure, I guess I don't know for sure if these large metal cases with the word "Stinger" written on them in big red block letters actually contain missiles. I suppose they could just be housing giant first aid kits for bee stinger removal in case the entire solar system got stung by bees at the same time. And did you know that killer bees are no deadlier than regular bees!?
But seriously, let's assume that the cases do have Stinger surface-to-air missiles in them. I have to admit that I don't like the idea that our nation's last line of defense against terrorists who want to blow me up are Metrorail drivers. I guess this is in large part due to the fact that Metro drivers do not actually drive the trains. They're kind of like the Queen of England or the King of Spain. Sure, they have fancy names, large, elaborate hats and a seemingly important and influential position, but they don't. They just sit there, smile at people, and walk around a little bit. Sometimes they throw a medal at you if you did something special but when you get down to it, they are the most useless, lazy, good-for-nothing, people in their entire country. I mean, think about it, nobody in their "royal bloodline" has had a real job in hundreds of years.
Do you realize that all Metro trains are controlled by a computer down at Metro headquarters and that the only reason they even need a human being "driving" the train is to open and close the doors and announce what the stops are? That's right. And if you've ever been on the Metro you'd know that these guys can't even do that. I ride the Metro home every day and every day there are at least five people that get crushed by the doors because the driver closes them on them. And what about the other 50% of the driver's job description? They must have that portion mastered, right? Wrong. Have you ever been able to hear what the Metro driver is saying? You know he's supposed to be saying Farragut West so why is it that you could have sworn he just said "Orange Town"? And since when does Smithsonian start with a K? I mean, I can understand screwing up L'Enfant Plaza because that's French. And who really knows how to speak French? Nobody.
The point is, if the government is going to hand out free missiles why did they decide to give them to the WMATA? Getting back to royalty for a moment, isn't it obvious that giving missiles to Metrorail drivers is as stupid as giving them to the Queen of England? I mean, they don't know what to do with them. Queen Elizabeth would probably sit down and have tea with it, put it in a parade, and then give it a medal.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
A Little Out Of Our League
This is a conversation I had with a friend the other night. I decided to color code everything. Pretty.
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
ROB- what?
JOHN- you need to hook up with this girl (long link #1)
ROB- that's nadine njeim
JOHN- sweet name. how'd you know it?
ROB- john, that's miss lebanon 2004
JOHN- really? i had no idea
ROB- yeah, that's who that is
JOHN- well you're from lebanon
ROB- no i'm not
JOHN- well your family is
ROB- so?
JOHN- that means you've got a pretty good chance
ROB- do you know the population of lebanon?
JOHN- yes
ROB- well?
JOHN- about four million
ROB- lucky guess
JOHN- thank you cia world factbook
ROB- john you need to hook up with this girl (long link #2)
JOHN- that's the chancellor of germany
ROB- you're german
JOHN- i'm going to bed
ROB- goodnight
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
JOHN- rob
ROB- what?
JOHN- you need to hook up with this girl (long link #1)
ROB- that's nadine njeim
JOHN- sweet name. how'd you know it?
ROB- john, that's miss lebanon 2004
JOHN- really? i had no idea
ROB- yeah, that's who that is
JOHN- well you're from lebanon
ROB- no i'm not
JOHN- well your family is
ROB- so?
JOHN- that means you've got a pretty good chance
ROB- do you know the population of lebanon?
JOHN- yes
ROB- well?
JOHN- about four million
ROB- lucky guess
JOHN- thank you cia world factbook
ROB- john you need to hook up with this girl (long link #2)
JOHN- that's the chancellor of germany
ROB- you're german
JOHN- i'm going to bed
ROB- goodnight
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