Condoms

Seriously, if you're in the business of holding the stork at bay this Valentine's Day (or Gonorrhea or swollen, mushroom-penis or whatever), you should try the new Trojan Ecstasy condoms.

No, I'm not paid to say that.  And I don't want to make it sound like I've tried every condom on the market, but ummm... I've used a fair number of them...

It has a better shape (there's no balloon animal  hanging off the end, and there's more room for us ummm... wider folks...)  [There's even a line of Trojan Magnum Ecstasy condoms, but who the fuck needs those?!]  They're kind of expensive, but totally worth it.  That is, unless you have access to free condoms.  Those are more worth it.

Even Angel likes these condoms.  (He ate one on Friday night.)

Just saying,
~RoB

Pimpmones

Yesterday, I went over to Annie's uncle's house to use some of his power tools.  The projects (yes, plural!) that I'm working on will be featured later this month (get excited!).  Anyway, I spent all day Sunday doing things by hand.  I was sore and getting whiny.  So, I had Annie call around and see if anybody had a circular saw and a Dremel.

Back to the point, yesterday I used a circular saw on plywood and managed to assemble two hinged/collapsible wooden objects that I designed.  I got to use sawhorses, a power screwdriver, a hacksaw, and a Dremel.  By the time Annie showed up to get me, I was in a rippling, hairy-chested man-frenzy.

Yes, me.  The wine-sipping, beer-hating, musical-loving, ballroom dancer felt super manly.  My man-hormones (I'm officially dubbing the word pimpmones; get that sh*t on UrbanDictionary stat!) were raging.  As soon as I got home I was flexing my muscles in bed, which led to DIWMGf.

I'm waiting to stub my toe and be returned to reality.

I made one huge discovery in going from manual to power tools.  You've heard the old adage, but it has changed:
Before power tools: 'Measure twice, cut once.'
After power tools: 'Measure once, screw it!'  (you can quickly redo the whole darn thing if you need to)

I discovered this after screwing up one of my drill-holes by 1/4", something I would have never done when I was methodically taking my time and manually screwing each screw in.

My pimpmones be flowin',
~RoB

P.S. Ewww, I don't actually have a hairy chest.

Too School for Cool

Instead of concentrating on DIWMGf, we spent most of the time arguing rather the beanie she was wearing was orange or red.  I say orange, and I might have mentioned that she looked like a male Dutch soccer fan.  She said that I am just color confused, and spent some time looking around the room for orange-colored things to compare to: Chicago Bears stuff is usually everywhere, but we couldn't see any.  Is she hiding my Chicago Bears stuff?  That bitch!

Anyway, we then got into a deep conversation about what it will be like in Albany if we can't find any cool people to hang out with.  Their Michigan Alumni Club looks like it sucks, and it's not the coolest area, but there has to be some sort of young scene, right?  There's some colleges nearby.  It's a state capital of a flaming, blue state!?!

The conversation helped us discover that deep down, we think we are way cool.  Probably cooler than we actually are.  We also, apparently, have high standards for the quality of friends that we make.  Good luck, upstate New York.

I never knew I'd become so snobby,
~RoB

It's Official

I'm officially not a registered student at UCLA, though I think they want $2000 from me for withdrawing.  Don't see that happening anytime soon.  I departed UCLA yesterday with my shiny new diploma (master of science) in hand.  Keys are turned in and office is clear.

Granny also came home from the hospital last night.  I haven't been able to reach her for the past few days (things must still be a whirlwind there), but I'm trying again in 20 minutes.  Nobody has told me anything as far as prognosis (that the right word?), so I have no clue how she's actually doing.  It's ok, I haven't really told them anything of my situation for most of the same reasons, so we'll just keep movin' on.  By the way, thank you, seriously, to all who ignored my request and offered your sympathies for her anyway.  It meant just a little bit more that you cared so much that you didn't care rather or not I wanted to hear it.

I drove another carload of stuff up yesterday.  On the way I had 4 big realizations:
- I can list all the big landmarks of I-5 from L.A. to Livermore, and they're pathetic.
- I think I'm technically a transient now.
- The guy that I could see in my rear view mirror looked really awkward while he was picking his nose.  I should probably stop picking my nose when I drive.
- A long time ago, I spoke with a friend about how he wanted to get each level of college degree at different universities; bachelor's, master's, and doctorate at 3 different schools.  If I return to college somewhere and get a PhD in the future, I will have done that, without really trying.  I'll probably also pick up an extra 2 master's degrees along the way.  Crazy.

I have no clue where all of my stuff is going to go.  Annie's apartment is nice, and cute, but in no way can her room handle 2 people's stuff.  I'm swinging by IKEA today to see what magic they can do.  Today, I also have to call and start canceling everything and changing my address.  It's also time to start emailing people and notify them that I've officially left Los Angeles.  I hate emails like that.  I'm so awkward.

Tuesday, my apt was so busy.  2 insurance adjustors showed up to take pictures and talk with me.  A lady showed up to turn off our gas.  Apparently, it never got switched over to my name.  I gave her $40 and she just left.  She was the most unprofessional person I've dealt with in a long time: "I don't give a shit," she says.  The last knock on the door was the most surprising.

I opened the door and my 2 closest L.A. friends were standing there.  They had taken off work to come and make sure I was ok.  They had heard a little from my blog, but they wanted me to tell them to their faces.  It was heartwarming knowing that there were a few people in L.A. that cared that much for me.  They offered their houses, $, help, and had the courtesy to not yell at me, even though they might not agree with me giving up on my dream of being Dr. Rob, for now.  They took me out to go see The Fighter, which was amazing.  We also went to Ugo's Wine Bar in Culver City, which was also really fun.

They also made me swore that I wouldn't blog about it.  Come on.  I blogged about DIWMGf.  It's not like anybody reads this anyway.  I just wanted to show how nice my closest friends are, maybe to help defend why I only have a few close friends.

Don't get pissed,
~RoB

Who's the Boss?

She thinks she's in charge of everything now, just because she's going to be totally supporting me for a few weeks (months?).  She was inspecting my boxers to see which ones were ready to be trashed when she held up my faves, asking why they weren't all fucked up where my balls sit like the rest of the pile.  "They're my sexy boxers, I barely wear them."  Let's be honest, I rarely wear any underwear at all any more.

I made it back to L.A.  Almost missed the I-5 turnoff cuz I was changing CDs.  It's ok.  I whipped over 3 lanes doing 85, so I was cool.  I should probably take a few days off of the 6 hour commutes.

I applied to 7 Craigslist jobs today.  Most of them involved pouring wine, but there was one fun one where I could drive around the bay area and teach kids about physics using Legos.  Sweet.

Had a strange smell on my hands all day.  I thought it was musty or rust from my apartment debacle.  5 hours into the drive I realized I just didn't wash my hands well enough after chopping onions for chilaquiles this morning.  I smell like an old, wooden cutting board, and there's no fixing it.  Awesome.

Only other good story from my tumultuous life today is going to get me killed.  I was DIWMGf.  I stopped in the middle, got up, walked around, and finally found my chapstick.  I put it on my lips and went back to business.  I need chapstick to live.  I need chapstick more than chubby kids need saturated fat.  Don't worry, she wasn't too put off.  She spent most of the time playing tug-of-war and fetch with the dog.  I don't need her attention anyway.

Wow, that's a little much.  I assured you that my brain had no filter, and I really shouldn't allow my fingers to type what I'm thinking.  Hope you enjoy it all anyway.

Fuck it,
~RoB