Friday, July 29, 2011

Fred Flintstone Poetry

There once was a guy dressed as Fred
whose girlfriend sprayed her hair red.
He thought it'd be fun
if he too sprayed his gun.
So good times were waiting ahead.

The party was Halloween Prog.
There was Spongebob and Scooby the dog.
A drink at each stop,
and you drink 'til you drop,
but the drinking was just a prologue.

They drank and drank and drank some more.
Fred passed out once and b'gan to snore.
It was quite a test
as they all progressed.
Fred managed to follow next door.

Fluorescent: the type of hair dye
Fred made Betty use for her guise.
At the end of the night
the dye glowed in black light.
So Fred decided to flash all nearby.

All near now have PTSD
because Fred flashed his wee-wee.
To the part he held true,
yelling 'yabba-dabba-do!'
Will a night beat this ever? Maybe!

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Awkward Palm Tree

I can't stand awkward moments in TV or movies.  Which is kind of funny, because I take pleasure in making people feel awkward in real life.

I also like to exaggerate real-life awkward situations and try to make them more awkward by highlighting them and throwing up the Awkward Palm Tree.  I was surprised to find out that one of my Michigan friends just learned about the Awkward Turtle.  That's so yesterday.  All the west coast kids throw up the Awkward Palm Tree:

[I think the symbol originates from In-N-Out.]  (Yes, you can see my purple nipples through my undershirt.)

See.  Doesn't that face and those arms just make things feel awkward, even though nothing has happened yet?

I can't stand awkward moments on TV.  I primarily gave up The Office because it started to suck, but feeling pain when people are awkward was a little part of it.  If I'm laying in bed watching some cheesy teen movie or show where the nerdy guy is about to ask the cute girl out, I'm probably covering my face.  I wanted to walk out of Bridesmaids during the engagement party scene, even though it was funny.  When people start breaking down on TV (Gaga and Marko last night on SYTYCD), I'll usually find some reason to leave the room.  I was very excited to find out that my college roommate is the exact same way.  Maybe it is us awkward guys that are so sensitive to it.

Now that you know, learn how to protect yourself.  Start practicing the awkward palm tree.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Liam & Clint

I just rented and watched Unknown.  I was, once again, pleasantly surprised by how much I liked the main actor.  There are actually two actors that I've really been surprisingly digging the past few years, Liam Neeson and Clint Eastwood.  They aren't the first names I think of when I'm contemplating current Hollywood stars, but they are both solid performers.  It's impressive that Clint is even still working, and Liam's movies in the past year have been stellar (Taken and Unknown).  Here are my favorite movies of theirs.

Liam Neeson movies I love (well some I only really like), in order:

  1. Love Actually (The best romantic comedy ever.)
  2. Taken (This movie makes me not want a daughter.)
  3. Unknown (Liam is totally badass out of nowhere.)
  4. Batman Begins (This was a solid movie with or without Liam.)
  5. Schindler's List (Liam was Schindler, if you didn't know.)
  6. Next of Kin (One of the 4 Patrick Swayze movies I can name, but I like them all.)
  7. Leap of Faith (I saw the musical version of this with Brooke Shields.)
I had no clue Liam was in a few of these older movies until after I IMDB'd him.

Clint Eastwood movies I love (and some I like), in order:

  1. Unforgiven (Best contemporary western ever.  Maybe best western ever.  Trust me, I took a class.)
  2. Million Dollar Baby (The last time I almost cried was the end of this movie.)
  3. Gran Torino (The ending was the biggest twist I would have expected for a Clint flick.)
  4. Mystic River [Director] (I always happen to find this on TV on lazy Sundays, much like Shawshank.)
  5. Every Which Way But Loose (Wait, Clint can be funny, and he can hang with an orangutan?)

Again, I had no idea Clint had directed Mystic River until I IMDB'd him.

If nothing else, you should really go see the first two movies from each list.  If you don't like them, I'll reimburse you the rental fees.  (I'm lying, but I doubt you won't like them.)

Annie hates it when I talk about famous people as if we're tight, which is why I like to use their first names only,

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Racist in the Workplace (Response)

I was bored, so I went back through to get a glimpse of how my blog has evolved over time.  I made it all the way back to my Racist in the Workplace post, when I realized the picture links didn't work any more.  I'm sure this is going to slowly happen to all of my pics over time, and I can accept that since I don't create many of my own pics.  However, for some reason, this interested me enough to investigate.

As it turns out, the company actually changed their blatantly racist ways.  I'd like to think it was due in part to my blog.  Let's not bust that bubble yet.  The new 'Handcuffing Police Training Mannequin' is no longer a black guy:

Hey, it's a white guy this time, but who pulls their shorts up that high?

However, their new attempts at being politically correct just aren't quite cutting it yet.  You're trying.  I get that, but maybe you should have like 1 other person read it before you update the website with your next great idea.
... this African American version reveals sculpted characteristics of the black race. An excellent manikin for use in environments where human participation is dangerous, including pole top, confined space, collapsed building, smoke room, ladder carry, and extrication exercises.
Yeah, I don't know exactly what the 'characteristics of the black race' are, but it appears to be a wider nose, a less stylish haircut, and bigger lips.  I also don't know why a white mannequin can't be used for practicing dangerous environments/exercises.  Oh, and African American Rescue Rudy apparently sits down on the job, while Caucasian Rescue Randy is up and at 'em:

I can't be the only one keeping these people in check, cuz I really can't afford a lawsuit,

Monday, July 25, 2011

Hipsters vs. Indie

Annie and I had a discussion the other day regarding if Indie and Hipster were different subcultures.  I was sure that they were.  I have to emphasize was.  The more I tried to defend their difference, the more smeared my differentiation became.

I also have to point out that I do constantly make fun of hipsters.  They look ridiculous: mostly just the scarves and skinny jeans and beanies and glasses, though.  Neither a fixie, nor a beach cruiser with a basket, are real bicycles.  My favorite tv show episode pointing out all things ridiculous about hipsters came from Happy Endings.

When I think Hipster, I think "I only listen to music that doesn't exist yet."  Or:

I always think of this pic now, thanks to S.G.'s blog.

When I think Indie, I think of a tshirt of a real band that that they're into.  They're literally into small, unknown bands and they are out late on most weeknights seeing these people play at bars.

Indie peeps look exhausted from lack of sleep and music that doesn't ever really let your brain rest.  Hipsters look great cuz they stay out of the sunlight and get plenty of rest so that their brains are sharp for making bad clothing decisions.

Hipsters would ironically where a Phil Collins t-shirt.  (I love Phil Collins, and I don't know why he has taken such a hard hit by the 'I'm too good for your crappy pop music' movement.)  Indie would wear a worn-out tshirt from some band that you've never heard of.  However, Indie would be really, really into that band and anyone who toured with them.  Hipsters can only like indie music ironically, for hipsters have no souls or care genuinely about anything.

Anybody with real insight into these two subcultures wanna confirm/deny my characterizations?  I'd like to be in tune when I'm judging people.

"You've probably never heard it before",

Friday, July 22, 2011

Etcetera Jobs

Whatever town you live in, you should go to, search for jobs, and then search for 'etcetera jobs' specifically.

You there?


How much semen does this country need?  Every day I see multiple posts for sperm donors.  Is it that hard to find guys who are willing to jerk off into a cup for money?  Hell, I'd do it (and I seriously considered it for $$ in L.A.), but there's no way I have good enough genes for passing the minimal amount of screening they must do.  I mean I'm smart, but it is an anomalous condition in my family, and I'm also fat and predisposed to cancer and diabetes.

But seriously.  Every city.  Sperm, sperm, sperm.  Jerking off into a cup for money.  How many of us are doing this at home for free?  Maybe I should come up with some sort of 'privacy of your own home sperm donation' service.
sperm, sperm, sperm.

I understand eggs and surrogate mother posts.  I just can't wrap my head (one above my shoulders) around this country's sperm shortage.  Maybe I should come up with some sort of 'frat house satellite collection site' service.

Oops, I meant to search 'frat boy jerking off,' not 'frat boy jerk off'.

I think applying for all these jobs is starting to get to me,

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Customers of Size

You're sitting in your seat, waiting to pull back from the gate, and depart.  The plane door is about to be closed and locked by the flight attendant.  The flight is 98% booked, but you managed to keep the middle seat next to you vacant by giving people the crazy eye.  The last person to board, whom you've all been waiting for, finally lumbers onto the plane.  They are huge: walking with a cane, sweaty, a belly button peeking out the bottom of a greasy tshirt, unkempt hair, rolling an oxygen tank, the whole shi-bang.  You know they're coming to sit next to you, with their clammy arms rubbing up against yours as you passive-aggressively fight for the armrest for the next 4 hours.  There's gotta be one other seat open.  Please god, let them find that other seat!

But there's a problem.  The sasquatch handed the flight attendant some sort of ticket-looking slip of paper.  WTF?  Sit down so we can leave!  The flight attendant has an "Oh, fuck" look on their face.  They grab the mic and announce "Please raise your hand if you have an open seat next to you."  It turns out that the water buffalo actually purchased 2 seats, per the company's Customers of Size Policy.  One of us who had rightfully won an empty seat next to us was going to have to move so that the land walrus could sit in 2 adjacent seats.

I've always wondered how they worded that.  They obviously couldn't have a FAQ section responding to "What if I'm too fat to fit between the armrests (a mere 17 inch width)?".  So, I guess that's their politically correct term for larger people: Customers of Size.  I happened upon the "Customers of Size Policy" on while I was trying to book my reward flights yesterday.  For some reason, Customers of Size gives me a mental image of a bigger African American lady with ginormous boobs.

Like this, but not that big.

One time at Cedar Point, I had a very difficult time fastening the safety belt across my lap on the Millennium Force.  I had to switch my wallet from my front pocket to my back, and I was able to pull it off.  However, the 30 seconds (felt like an hour) leading up to that decision was so embarrassing.  I was positive they were going to have to tell me that I was too big to ride the roller coaster.  I was mortified, even though things worked out.  I almost decided to permanently keep my wallet in my back pocket, though I didn't make that switch, cuz it belongs up front with the rest of the bulges.  That's been my only experience being a 'Customer of Size' and it was horrifying.  I wasn't even that fat at the time (at least, not my fattest).

Oh man, Annie reminded me of yet another time when this happened.  *Ding*  I hadn't noticed that the call light was on, but the nice-looking, middle-aged flight attendant with a Georgian drawl walked up and asked me what I needed.
F.A: "What do you need right now, sweetie?"
Me: "Ummm, nothing?"
F.A: "Then why did you push the call button."
Me: "I didn't.  But, I think my seats broken.  It won't stay up."
She reached down next to my leg to turn off the call button.  Then we all (Annie was there, too) realized what had happened.  My thick thigh had pushed both the call button and the seat reclining button.  I smirked and moved my wallet to the other front pocket.  (I always blame it on the wallet.)

Hopes to never have to buy 2 seats,

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I have a big thing for redheads.  I have this fun game that I play in my head when I see a girl with red hair.  No matter what she looks like, I try to analyze if I'd do her.  Sometimes I say 'yes' to myself, and then I look at the person again and think that if she didn't have red hair (and the ginger complexion), I'd probably rather hit her with my car than talk to her, let alone have sex with her.  Some fairly unattractive creatures have passed my mental redhead test.  And, I'm pretty sure I can trace my issues back to one redhead: Ginger Spice.

The Spice Girls were big as I was going through puberty in middle school.  Since I was surprisingly popular throughout middle school (yeah, I don't know either), I was always 'with it' when it came to music on the radio.  I truly am forever a child of the 90s, so lite rock and pop music will always be my Achilles' heel.  Anyway, the Spice Girls were popular, my girlfriend (had several, but only one real on-and-off relationship before high school) and her friends listened to them, I thought their music was fun, most of them were smokin' hot, and Ginger Spice became almost an obsession.  Her popularity happened to line up with a hormonal time in my life, and now I'm forever a ginger-lover.

I've only ever dated 1.5 redheads.  (One was copper-ish, and not the flaming red that does it for me).  Can I just say redheads are crazy?  I mean, look how Geri Halliwell ended up.  In fact you can google 'crazy redheads' and find all kinds of men pointing out the same statement.  Maybe that has only increased their appeal to me.  (Who doesn't like a girl that might try and take a swing at 'em every once in a while?)  My last girlfriend in high school had red hair, and her whole family is crazy, but it made for a very, very fun and interesting time as I was turning 18.  I found this wonderful little ditty while googling:
Redhead for a night? Just having fun
Redhead for a wife? Better sleep with a gun.
I just thought you all should know.  If you're introducing me to one of your redhead friends, and I'm lost in thought for a few minutes, now you have an idea of the complex calculations going on in my head.  I've tried to get Annie to go red several times.  She thinks red highlights count.  They don't.  Full-out fire engine red or bust.

What I don't get is all the ginger hate in the news (and South Park) lately.  I mean, ginger guys certainly are goofy looking.  But their redheaded sisters are smokin' hot.

Leave those gingers alone, so they can grow up and lead a troupe of hotties to become 2-year pop sensations,

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Funny Lookin' Baby

At this point in my life, I don't really want kids.  However, I'd be lying if I said my stance against having children wasn't weakening a little.  A few things scare me, though.

Aren't you nervous you're going to have a funny looking child?  It'd be rough.  Half of my friends on Facebook have kids and keep posting pictures of them.  Let's be real, they're all not cute.  Some are straight-up funny looking.  (White kids are weird looking.)  I don't intend to soften up my opinions for my child any more than I do on this blog.  (Well, maybe a little for the first 9 years or so.  After that, a life of cynicism!)  So, if my boy is being an asshole, or if my girl needs to wash her hair, or if my 'other' has a giant nose, they'll be told so.  I only sugar coat my desserts, but you all know that.

Even scarier, and a conversation I've actually had with Annie, is, 'What if they're not smart?'  That'd be pretty rough, too.  I can deal with ugly.  I've dealt with being funny looking my whole life.  However, I can't really deal with stupid.  I truly believe that to some degree, everyone made decisions that influenced how smart they are now.  Those that had the motivation to work a little harder and pay a little more attention in class and actually go home and do their homework (sometimes at the expense of a social life), are the ones that are labeled 'smart' in our society.  That's all I'm asking for.  I don't expect something to come out and be gifted with some of those traits that make being 'exceptionally intelligent' easy.  Would they be able to deal with living up to my expectations?

Oh my god, what if they have serious problems?  I'm a good person (when I'm not blogging), but could I deal with a child in a wheelchair their whole life, or severe mental/physical disabilities?  I've heard that you shouldn't decide to have a baby unless you are ready to deal with a child like that, as a metric of where you are in your life, but I just don't know that I'd be able to deal with that.  If saying that makes me awful, then you are a hypocrite for thinking it and judging me for saying it.

Anyway, keep posting pictures of your awkward toddlers, and I'll continue judging your family.

Karma's probably coming up with a fitting punishment for this post,

Monday, July 18, 2011

Drowning in a Taxi

I like to consider myself well-traveled.  And, for those people that I know who have filled their passports dramatically more than mine (since I don't have one), I can at least say that I feel 'urban'.  By that, I mean that I'm comfortable in large cities, and I don't really stand out like most tourists.  However, I've never really been comfortable with taxis.  I've always been a bus/subway/walker.  Taxis kind of intimidate me.  It was fun to find that Annie shared these feelings with me.  We found out when we had to hail one from in front of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco on Sunday.

Yep, I teach here on Sundays, and I needed a taxi.

The whole process actually wasn't difficult at all.  I actually found the new/hybrid taxi to be comfortable and really convenient.  Although, there was a glowing moment where my inexperience with taxis came to a screaming apex.

I had just danced for an hour.  Before that, I walked to the top of Nob Hill from BART (straight uphill).  I was kind of tired, and I was slightly dehydrated.  After we got settled in the taxi and the driver stopped at the next light, I reached into Annie's bag to grab her pink, stainless steel, water bottle.  You know, the kind where the whole top screws off giving you a wide mouth for gulping.  As soon as I was tipping it up to my mouth, the taxi sped off, having been giving access to do so by a friendly green light.

The water didn't just dribble onto my chin and shirt.  It splashed.  All over my neck, down my shirt, back of my neck, bottom of my hair, and in my nasal passages.  I almost drowned... in a taxi... drinking from a bottle of water.  Return to the beginning where I was already uncomfortable in taxis.  Now I feel like a noob.

The next time I am quietly judging (to myself) someone who looks cautious as they are stepping on an escalator, I'll try and remember that my taxi anxiety is no less ridiculous.

I'm lying.  I'll still make fun of people scared of escalators.  What is this, 1849?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

30 by 30, First Half!

I've heard of a few blogs posting lists like this, and I think it's a great idea.  Below I'll list (and check off) 30 things that I would like to do before I'm 30 years old (I'm 26 now).  I don't have great ideas for all 30 yet, so I'll be posting it in increments of 5 as I come up with them.  I'd be happy to hear what you think (you can add comments or Tweet me ideas @roberree #30by30)!

30 by 30
1. Travel outside of the U.S.
2. Read Moby Dick (may be replaced by another classic).
3. Take a singing lesson to find out if there's any hope.
4. Learn how to make crepes.
5. Weigh less than 200 lbs.
6. Get a tattoo (I've had it picked out for a while, but I haven't followed through yet).
7. Live in a house (as opposed to an apartment).
8. Clear all of my credit card debt.
9. Return to graduate school, for the last time, to finally get my PhD.
10. Take Annie to Disney World.
11. Go to a Chicago Bears football game at Soldier Field.
12. Eat at Chez Panisse.
13. Finish writing 5 short stories.
14. Learn how to make mole negro.
15. Attempt Fenton's Banana Split Challenge, if it still exists.

Here's to getting the things you always wanted,

Friday, July 8, 2011

30 by 30 #1-10

I've heard of a few blogs posting lists like this, and I think it's a great idea.  Below I'll list (and check off) 30 things that I would like to do before I'm 30 years old.  I don't have great ideas for all 30 yet, so I'll be posting it in increments of 5.  I'd be happy to hear what you think (you can add comments or Tweet me ideas @roberree #30by30)!

30 by 30
1. Travel outside of the U.S.
2. Read Moby Dick (may be replaced by another classic).
3. Take a singing lesson to find out if there's any hope.
4. Learn how to make crepes.
5. Weigh less than 200 lbs.
6. Get a tattoo (I've had it picked out for a while, but I haven't followed through yet).
7. Live in a house (as opposed to an apartment).
8. Clear all of my credit card debt.
9. Return to graduate school, for the last time, to finally get my PhD.
10. Take Annie to Disney World.

Here's to getting the things you always wanted,

I'm Alive

This is the least I've posted since I've started.  It's partly due to the fact that I'm almost done with my internship, and I'm trying to do some actual work so they'll have a good memory of me.  That and all the dancing I've been doing... and volleyball... since Annie and I joined a local gym.  Oh yeah, it could be the new job search, since I ditched all the plans to head to upstate NY.  Soon, I'll be back on a writing schedule.  Bear with me ;)