I'd Like To Thank The Academy

A few days ago the fighters returned (See The Eighth Plague Grandmaster). This time though, I was ready. I had my camera with me and was able to film a short clip of their savage battle squad. The film I made of the whole thing was so great, in fact, that Google Video decided they wanted it up on their site. As such, you can now view it anytime you wish. It's called Ravine Fighters, and it seriously is the breakout film of the year. It features the roommate, yours truly as the narrator, and Mighty Joe Young just to name a few.

Edit: This video is on YouTube too. You might as well just watch it below:

Now Serving Number 4703

The Chinese have just reached the year 4703, but frankly, I'm not impressed. If the Chinese are over 2000 years ahead of the rest of the world, tell me why they have yet to invent rocket boots? Is it because they're lazy? I'm embarrassed for the Chinese. I don't understand how a civilization can claim such supreme oldness and not have the technological advancements to back it up. For God's sake, it's the year 4703! Where's the goddamn DEATHSTAR!?

I ordered some Chinese food the other day and they brought it in those little white foldy buckets with the metal handle. Remember in Back to the Future 2 when Marty goes to his future house and they have that little pizza thing they put in the microwave and after they hit a button they open up the microwave and the little pizza had turned into a regular pizza? Why don't the Chinese have that? Plus, I looked out the window as the delivery dude was driving away and he was in a Toyota Tercel. You'd think that by the year 4703 the Chinese would have stopped buying Japanese cars and have their own Chinese brand jet-cars that fly on pure, unfiltered Communism.

If I were General Tso, I'd be turning in my delicious brown sauce filled grave.

#1 CHINA BUFFET!

Happy Chinese New Year

Garbage Man, M.D.

I've always wanted to pitch an idea to a major television network. I've been rolling an idea for one in my mind for a while now (since sophomore year of high school, I think) and I believe it's turned out well. In my opinion, there are two things that make a great primetime drama. 1) A catchy theme song. 2) An amazing pilot episode.

Luckily, I just happen to have both. Now before I release these to the Internet I would like you to promise to not steal my ideas. Of course, I don't trust you so I am hereby invoking a REAL DEAL COPYRIGHT. Well let's get this thing going.

TITLE: Garbage Man, M.D.
THEME SONG:

He's a Garbage Man...
Who's also a Doctor Man.
He'll sew you up with used dental floss,
And fill your veins with used tomato sauce.

He's the Garbage Man...
Who's also a Doctor Man.
He'll ease your pain
With 10 CC's of cocaine,
He'll beat off the hobos eating your brain,
You'll become his biggest fan...
He's Garbage MAN!!!
M...D...

PILOT EPISODE (Runtime: Approx. 5 minutes):

[Garbage Man M.D. walks into the Mayor's office wearing the skin of a prostitute]

Mayor: What in god's name do you think you're doing, Garbage Man M.D.!?

GM: What does it look like I'm doing? I'm out on the streets saving goddamn lives!

Mayor: You're a garbage man!

GM: I'm a doctor first and I always will be!

Mayor: I don't give a flying fuck if you're a doctor or not! Your methods and tools are dangerous and I won't stand for it! You are a menace and you're endangering countless lives!

GM: I'm SAVING lives you fool! Why do you think I spend so much time in the sewers? It's not so I can bathe in feces, you know. I do it in order to collect the feces and inject it into my patients' bloodstream. Then, maybe, if there's any left I'll bathe in it, but that rarely ever happens!

Mayor: Are you listening to yourself? You're a psycho!

GM: Would a psycho have these? [pulls out a handful of pigeons coated in motor oil and lashed together with dental floss]

Mayor: I think it's safe to say yes. Plus, if you haven't noticed, your assistant is a mangy old dog.

GM: Watch what you say about my wife, asshole!

Mayor: I've had just about enough of this, Garbage Man M.D.. I want you to stop practicing street medicine and get back to your real job---picking up garbage.
[Garbage Man M.D. scowls and turns to leave. The Mayor takes a bite out of his ribblet sandwich and then quickly clutches his chest]
My God! I'm having a heart attack!
[Garbage Man M.D. looks back but just shakes his head and continues to walk]
Garbage Man M.D., please save me! I'm dying.
[Garbage Man M.D. stops but doesn't turn around]

GM: Save you like you saved my daughter?

Mayor: [gasping for breath] No, Garbage Man M.D., that was an accident! I tried to help her with that harpoon gun. I wanted her to grab onto it and have me pull her back to the boat, not have it rip through her face!

GM: Perhaps. But I guess we'll never know. Now please...just die. I have hobo abortions to perform. [straightening his prostitute skin jacket he steps from the room and out of view]

THE END, MOTHERFUCKERS!

Sorry! I've Been Promoted!

My reign as the Ultimate Sorry! Champion lives on after a grueling five game series last night. The evening began with Jon coming out to a 2-0 start, but I skillfully rebounded to pull off the overall win by sweeping the last three games.

I must say that Sorry! is quite the amazing board game. It combines the mystique of Parcheesi but succeeds in liberating it from it's Yahtzee-like dice rolling, while integrating the colorful magnificence and superficial apologies of say, Pop-o-matic Trouble, and the space-age translucent playing pieces reminiscent of, well, space.

Anyways, I am now a teaching assistant (TA) for the Physics Department for the second semester in a row and I must say I am quite excited. Last semester was spectacular but the mechanics labs that I led were a little dull. Professor KB was a good guy and I'm somewhat sad to see him go, but I realize I'm now going on to bigger and better things.

Yes, and so it is with great pride that I say goodbye to Introductory Physics I, and give a hearty hello to Introductory Physics II. So long mechanics, pleased to meet you electromagnetism and optics. Nice knowing you Professor KB, and let me introduce to you now, the greatest of all the physics professors at Allegheny College, and the man who will supervise the labs I run.....

Ph.D. from Dartmouth...
Enjoys nuclear physics and sprinkled doughnuts...
Walks with a limp...
Fan of homestarrunner.com...
Thinks I'm awesome...

You guessed it, it's DR. DAN WILLEY!!!

Well I'm too excited to write anything else so...

Rob out.

Fast Times in Claim Area G

Most of yesterday was spent hiding in the corner of an abandoned baggage claim at Pittsburgh International Airport while watching episodes of The Simpsons on my laptop. I stopped briefly to pick up a $10 wrap from the refrigerated shelving unit at the Pennsylvania version of Au Bon Pan, which distinguishes itself from other Au Bon Pans because of the fact that the Pennsylvania version decided not to upgrade to the fully functional, working model of a restaurant. The actual sandwich making service was unavailable because of understaffing as well as because the ovens, breads, cheeses, and other essentials were all cardboard replicas of real items. Not unlike what you find in Ikea, where they furnish their office settings with plastic televisions and computers that are merely painted to look like their functional counterparts and which can be lifted easily without effort and tossed back and forth between good friends on a Saturday plagued by unexpected rainfall, boredom, and a lack of individuals who can come up with good activity ideas. These situations are usually free of mishaps but on the off chance you pick up a real computer used by employees and drop it due to the unexpected weight things can get a little messy, in which case (when it happened to me) I fled and skipped my usual $1 vanilla ice cream cone from the snack bar.

Nevertheless, the wrap was tasty enough and it was accompanied by a large blueberry yogurt made crunchy by the complimentary granola presented to me at time of payment. Uneventful, though, my lengthy stay at the Pitt'n'Port was not. My mysteriousness coupled with the fact that people often mistake me for an A-rab, which, when occurring, I kindly explain that their racial slur was perfectly valid because my family does in fact hail from Lebanon, caused me unwanted attention in the form of a security guard stationed in my vicinity and a strange "old woman" who asked me where the baggage claim to "retrieve lost sweaters" was located.

I had my bag searched again. I really think I should have been given a "Frequent Searchee" card by now but perhaps it was lost in the mail. They say that the searches are random but I've taken my fair share of logic and probability courses at both the high school and undergraduate level and I think that being searched 16 times out of 16 (that's in the past two years) is just slightly unheard of considering the vast number of people who travel by air in any given time period and the fact that none of my friends or family of friends have ever been searched.

Well, I have nothing more to say at this point in time. Perhaps at a later date I will return.

Ushapti

Here's To You, My Favorite Cousin

Kate passed away this morning after battling her cancer for almost four months. Of all my cousins she was the one I was always closest to, not just because of our age, but because we were so much the same. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like without her. But I guess I need to think of what's best for Kate, and perhaps this is better than what she's had for the last few months. She celebrated her 20th birthday in the hospital. She woke up on Christmas in a hospital bed in her house barely able to move her arms or keep her eyes open. She didn't know that we spent the entire day by her side.

But anyway, she wouldn't have wanted this sob story. So in memoriam, here's a video clip of Kate stopping a shot like she doesn't even care.

She's Like A Wall
(It'll take a bit to load completely, so stick it out)

At The Museum With Rosemary's Baby

I'm An Officer, Officer

Me: "Son of a bitch."
Beth: "You're an antifeminist aren't you?"
Jon: "Huh."
Sarah: *giggling thing she does*
Laura: "Congratulations."

What do these quotes have in common? They're the reactions I got after people found out I'm the newest secretary of Alpha Phi Omega.

Whoop-dee-doo.

Good Morning Mister Blue

I wrote this poem yesterday. Part 1 is supposed to be read as quickly as possible and Part 2 can be read fast too, but it'll be more emotional if you slow it down. Anyway, enjoy.

GOOD MORNING MISTER BLUE
a poem by Rob

Part 1

A sock is a sock unless it's a sock,
Unless it's a sock that's a sock that's a sock.
But you Mister Blue, not a sock but a sock,
Not a sock but a sock through and through.

And you?
And you Mister Blue?
And you Mister Blue is this true?

The dryer on STOP with my clothes up on top,
That freshman I caught and his things in my spot,
I took all my stuff off the dryer top
"Huff"
Was the sound that I made as I prayed and I prayed
That my things that I brings to my room all in gloom
Would be there wrapped with care as I stare--stare in there--
In the bag with my clothes as I sag
With the weight of the hate and the pain and disdain
He's so vain to have taken my clothes out but he'll feel my bane
'Cause I stopped his dumb dryer half-cycle, half-cocked,
I'm happy--so happy--my actions just rocked!

But alas. Pains my ass.
Not quite even. Downright odd.
5...6...7? Where's my eight?
Fuckin' great.

Part 2

Good morning Mister Blue, this shoe?
Oh yes, that's true, this shoe's for you.
The zoo? Of course.
If that is what you'd like to do,
Come let us zoo and zoo and zoo.

But not today, no zoo for you,
You've gone you've left it's toodle-oo.
I don't know how I don't know when,
My Blue shall we not meet again?

I searched and searched but came up bare,
I searched the trash, I searched in there.
The floor, the sink, the skating rink
I even stopped for a mixed drink.

Now drunk I never faltered once,
I kept my vigilance amongst.
The alcohol runs through my veins,
Passed softly yet my heart still pains.

I never once gave up the hope
But soon I found I lived to mope.
The sadness permeates my soul
And where you were now lies a hole.

A sock hole, yes. Ironic, no?
You've left your other half, your bro.
My foot is cold, frostbitten toe,
And where you lie I shalln't know.

I only dream you've found a place
Amongst your kind, the "Lost Sock Race."
Perhaps one day we'll meet again,
When now is past and then was then.

Until that day I'll wait for you,
There is no thing I'd rather do.
And when that day comes when we meet,
I shall caress you on my feet.

But nothing will be quite as sweet
As when we greet when we first meet.
I'll take you in my hands anew
And be one thing I'll say to you:

"From you to me, from me to you,
A smile, a tear, a hug for two.
I wish you'd never said adieu,
I love you love you Mister Blue."

It Seems Like Everyone Knows How To Ice Skate These Days

Thanksgiving was uneventful. The food was decent but nothing spectacular, and I spent most of the time playing the piano while everyone talked around the table and had coffee and pie.

I've spent a lot of this break over at Fairfax Hospital with my cousin. It's not really fair, one minute she's a typical sophomore at Virginia Tech and the next she's spending her 20th birthday and Thanksgiving in the "Living with Cancer" ward on the 9th floor. She likes it when I push her chair around the hallways really fast, and I'm proud to say that she says I push her better and faster than both her mom and her dad. Sometimes I steal soda for her and I from the kitchen when the nurses aren't looking and we like to get Starburst from the vending machine and watch movies to pass the time.

Today some of us peoples went to Pentagon Row to get dinner and watch people fall down while ice skating. It was fun, not that many people wiped out but we had a good time anyway.

I don't really have any plans for the last couple days of break but I'm sure I'll find something to do. I really need to get my Alexa Warden fix because I'm starting to go into withdrawal and I think I want to see the Wallace and Gromit movie if it's still playing. I also need to get my watch fixed before I go back to school.

Well, that's all I've got. I'll be back in the big rectangular state they call Pennsylvania soon enough, I guess.

Adieu.

And They Wonder Why More People Don't Use Public Transportation

Well this is my second year of college in Meadville, PA and I just now realized that I'm in nowhere land. So here I am looking at the bus schedule for tomorrow and let me show you what I found:

1. The buses only come by each stop once every hour.
2. Bus service only goes until 4:30 p.m. on Sundays.

Can you believe this!? I mean, Jesus, back home if you miss the bus you don't have to worry because there'll be another one coming in about 18 SECONDS! I mean, literally, it's a constant stream of buses. And I'm not even talking about the big time Metro buses that service the entire Washington D.C. Metropolitan Area. This is the Fairfax Connector, the COUNTY bus.

Why do they even have a bus if when you ride to your destination you can't get back because service has ended? Oh yeah, one-way bus service...real helpful.

And what self-respecting bus service has only SIX LINES? Come on, the Fairfax Connector's line numbers go from 101 to 989!

I tell you what, the first thing I'm going to do when I get back to good old Springfield, VA is to ride the bus. A real goddamn bus.

It's All Within Your Reach

I've always wanted platinum power. It's always sort of been a little dream for me, you know? Marry a girl I can almost beat in arm wrestling, settle down in a house with a yard that has some trees but not so many that raking in the fall is a pain in the ass, have some kids, clothe them, and obtain platinum power. It's not that much to ask, is it?

I don't know, everyone has their goals in life and you strive for this stuff and tell everyone you're gonna make it big but in some way or another you eventually find out it's not going to happen. So and so wants to be the next Charlton Heston. What's her name says she'll cure cancer. Joe Shmoe thinks this. Jane Doe thinks that. It never gets you anywhere and despite how we try to convince ourselves otherwise, on the inside we've always known we'll grow up to be just another person who will die without having done anything.

It's the same way with me and platinum power. It's this big deal thing that I'm always telling everyone about.

"Hey, did you know that someday I'll have platinum power?"
"Hi Susan. Golden Grahams for breakfast? No thanks, I've got platinum power."

But the more I think about it the more I know it's just a stupid pipe dream (minus the opium). It's one of those things I never want to think about. I walk through life with blinders on and I tell myself that platinum power is on the horizon but I keep on walking and the farther I go the more I realize that I'm never going to get there. I mean, it doesn't keep me up at night but it's always there in the back of my head.

When I feel like I should stop studying I tell myself that I'm doing it for the platinum power and I'm able to keep going. When I'm in class and I'm hungry I tell myself that later I'll have platinum power and I'll have all the food I could ever need.

So, I mean, maybe it's one of those impossibilities that helps you more in the long run than it hurts you. I like this idea but maybe it's just because it hurts so bad to think about throwing the dream away.

So it's not strange that I was so taken aback today when I reached into my mailbox and found a letter addressed to me which in large writing stated:

You are INVITED TO APPLY for
PLATINUM POWER

No annual fee
Platinum benefits

Was it a sign? Some sort of omen? Maybe it was simply a message, you know? A message letting me know that I shouldn't give up hope. I mean, maybe it was just what it looked like, a CapitalOne Platinum card, but I don't think so. What are the chances that CapitalOne knew about my platinum power dream? Can we really write this off as a mass mailing?

Anyway, I hope you guys take this to heart. Go after your dreams because no matter how impossible they may seem you never know what's going to happen.

Who knows, maybe someday you'll reach into your mailbox and pull out Charlton Heston.

Cat, I'm A Kitty Cat

One of my friends emailed me this today. It's probably one of the greatest videos I've ever seen.

Cat Dance

Why Won't You Just Stop Nominating Me?

Why am I cursed with being the guy people always try to nominate for officer positions in clubs even when I have no interest in doing it?

Last night was the Chemii Thanksgiving Bash and yes, if that sounds like an event where a bunch of nerdy chemists get together to talk molecules and eat turkey, then you're right. Anyway, they were nominating officers and all of a sudden the girl in front of me turns around and says, "Hey, what's your name? I want to nominate you." Can you believe that? Why would she want to nominate someone she doesn't even know? Why must I be so likeable, popular, and an all around great guy?

The same thing happened with Lambda Sigma. There was this guy in front of me and I don't know how he knew my name but before I knew it he was nominating me for secretary. What are these people thinking? Do I have a sign on me that says "Please Nominate" or am I really just that awesome? Oh well, maybe I'll never know.

Live and learn, and then get Luvs.

The Vietcong Wouldn't Even Know What Hit Them

I've always wondered why the U.S. military doesn't invest in a weapon similar in nature to the Nerf Secret Shot. If you were never a ten year old boy, the Secret Shot was a typical Nerf sidearm that was equipped with a hidden barrel in the handle. Basically, if your best friend just jumped in front of you with his Nerf crossbow and told you to put your hands up and surrender, you could comply but subsequently shoot him in the face with your secret gun.

I've thought about this for a good long time and while I don't think the trick would work well against Americans, I think it would prove extremely effective against Asians. My reasoning for this claim is not scientifically backed but I'm pretty sure it's probably true since back in elementary school my friend Chris Kim was always the first one to die when we had a Nerf war.

Can you imagine what the Vietnam War would have been like if the U.S. troops had Nerf Secret Shots? Let me just say, I think it probably would have been a lot more fun.

Thinking about the Nerf Secret Shot has really made me quite nostalgic for the good old days. For the past week or so I've had the Inspector Gadget cartoon theme song stuck in my head and I've taken absolutely no measures to try and remove it.

Anyway, I don't have much else to say so I'll leave you with this thought:

Why is it that locusts kick so much more ass in the Bible than they do in biology textbooks?

Platypus Surgery For Dummies

I've just completed the first ever platypus-drumstick fusion surgery in the history of modern medicine. I'm so sure this is going to change the face of medicine completely that I've already picked out my clothes for the Nobel Prize banquet and laid them out on my bed.

I wanted to share with you, my non-Nobel Prize winner friends, exactly what this complex surgery entails. I've provided some before and after photos too.

Subject/Victim: 1 Platypus, male or female, must be wearing shirt
Fancy Medical Tools Needed: 1 KFC Picnic Playset ($1 at Meadville Dollar General), 1 pointy needle and fried chicken colored thread ($1 at Meadville Dollar General), thumbtack or other poking thing that isn't the pointy needle



Step 1: Remove drumstick from KFC Picnic Playset. Feel free to discard chicken bucket, corn-on-the-cob, and napkin or give it to your roommate.

Step 2: Poke holes in drumstick, two on each side, at a distance of slightly less than the width of one regulation size platypus hand/fin with thumbtack or other poking thing that isn't the pointy needle.

Step 3: Thread pointy needle with fried chicken colored thread.

Step 4: Stab platypus hand/fin with threaded pointy needle going through the flesh, into the drumstick, out the other side, across to other drumstick hole on that side , back through the drumstick and flesh, and across to the starting point. Repeat until you're out of thread or it's lunchtime...whichever comes first.

Step 5: When you're satisfied with the threading quality or once you've finished lunch, tie off the fried chicken colored thread and make sure the drumstick is securely fastened to the platypus hand/fin. This can be done by grasping the drumstick and moving it to the platypus' mouth and seeing if the hand/fin comes with it, or by pulling gently on the hunk of fried meat as if to say, "Hey Mr. Platypus, I want that chicken so give it to me" and observing the same.

Step 6: Sit back and marvel at the quality of your handiwork. If you're really flexible (like if you could ever do that V-sit reach thing in P.E. and get a score of anything above -19) you could attempt to pat yourself on the back. If you're not flexible you can find someone who is and watch them pat themselves on the back and feel bad that you suck, or you could ask them to pat you on the back.

Step 7: Remember that you forgot to give the platypus any anesthetic.

And here's the finished product!

I Eat Relationships For Sunday Brunch

My roommate tells me that this here blog ruins relationships. Supposedly there is proof that at least one couple has parted ways after having come across the link here from my Facebook profile. I'm not quite sure how I should feel about this.

I could provide a disclaimer. Maybe put up some of those "Enter" or "Leave" buttons like they have before you view porn sites. Not that I know anything about that.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if I caused you to say goodbye to that person you thought you'd be with forever.

I'm sorry if after viewing this site he admitted to sleeping with your sister.

I'm sorry that after relating to one of my entries she decided to move to Morocco and offer camel rides for a Euro to high schools students on a day trip from Spain.

I'm sorry that stumbling across this website caused her to eat a bowl of Alpha-Bits cereal and the letters spelled out the phrase, "Leave your boyfriend for a bowl of Maryland clam chowder" and after seeing this she did so and now she's married to the aforementioned clam chowder and they have two beautiful children named Sam and Maria and they live in the suburbs of Denver and ski on the weekends unless the in-laws are in town in which case they stay inside by the fire and talk about future plans and sip coffee and play board games like The Game of Life and the clam chowder gets to be the doctor but ends up living in the mobile home which is the place I always wanted to live in because even though it was really crappy it was cheap and the taxes were low and after all it's just a board game and you don't actually have to live in it so it doesn't make much of a difference.

I'm sorry that these scenarios keep getting more far-fetched and more rambling.

I guess what I'm trying to say, and don't take this the wrong way, is that I hope these entries ruin your life. I hope you drop out of college because I told you I had a hamburger for lunch. I hope I shape the very way you approach and view the world.

I hope I change you.

Weather Update

Ice is falling from the sky again.

Haircuts, Hail Storms And Other Words That Make This Title Alliteration

I got a haircut today and I must say it looks mighty fine. It looked even mightier fine before I got hailed on, though. I saw Josh Nolan and he was standing under a tree by Bentley to get away from the deadly chunks of ice. As I walked by him I told him that it didn't sting that excruciatingly bad and he just laughed. Also, I went to Reis Hall today to write down my comments on the preceptorship hospital visits and it's not even funny how much candy I swiped on my way out. Seriously, I now have more Starburst and Kit Kats than I know what to do with.

In other news, thermodynamics class is over. That means I'm done with classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday by noon. Isn't that magical? I should probably use that time to go to the gym or study but I'll probably just end up using it for napping and an excessive amount of video game playing. Of course, what this means is that I won't get to see Shafiq wear his gorilla mask to class for Halloween. If I'm lucky he'll have it on at Physics T today!

Finally, Jon (the roommate) has a new girlfriend. Her name is Brenda and she likes country music and is a feminist. I didn't want to tell Jon but I'm worried she might try to cut off his penis while he's sleeping. She's coming over for pumpkin carving tonight so I might confront her about it. You have to protect your roommate, you know?

Slurp.