Archive for category Humor
Hello, all! I know I’ve been away for a while, but things have been a little crazy lately (parenthood and whatnot). Nevertheless, I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you during this glorious holiday season! If you miss me, you can always find me here.
Things That Make Me Uncomfortable, Vol. 1
As a blogger, I believe in sharing. This may seem obvious, but I think that some bloggers hold back on personal details. Some are dedicated to specific topics and they rarely provide insight into their inner workings or personalities. Well, you’ll find no such reluctance here. I wear my heart on my sleeve (unless my shirt has stripes and it looks too busy), so I’m going to open up to you today and share a very special list that will help you better understand me.
I considered starting this program of “sharing” with a list of things that make me happy, but that seemed a little trite. Not “attention-grabbing” enough. So, I chose to begin this process with something negative. This will be (enemies take note)… a list of things that disturb me or really make me squirm.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you …
Things That Make Me Uncomfortable, Volume 1
1. This picture (and the ratings for this show) ….
Please, please don't reveal...
2. Smelly elevators – Whether it reeks of fried food, mold, body odor or (God forbid) human flatulence, this is an all-around nightmare scenario. The smell serves as an especially unpleasant reminder that you are temporarily trapped in a very small space and it also sets you up for public humiliation. Undoubtedly, when someone else boards the elevator (usually an attractive member of the opposite sex), they will mentally assign blame for the smell to you. It’s inevitable… You are there. The stink is there (and obviously fresh). In this person’s mind, you become one with the stink.
3. Any TV commercial that references “embarrassing odors”
4. Female friends/Wives of friends/Coworkers/Acquaintances who post pictures of themselves in swimwear on Facebook. Please stop this. I cannot click on these. Indeed, I cannot event glance at them. It’s akin to walking by a strip club on Bourbon Street with family – even once quick look and you feel like a filthy pervert. It would be unthinkable for me to “like” such a photo or comment on it. Would a husband, boyfriend or my wife buy it for a minute if I were to say “Wow, the beach sure looks amazing!” or “I would love to jump in that pool behind you”?
5. Old William Shatner
Need I say more?
6. Watching comedies I enjoy with anyone over the age of 55. This never goes well. I have nothing against older people, but they tend to be a bit befuddled by what I find amusing. I once watched Tosh.0 with my parents. This won’t happen again.
Not funny to retirees, "the Greatest Generation" or anyone who might vacation in Branson, MO.
7. Large men in tiny jogging shorts …
Even for fit people & Daniel Tosh, this is simply too much thigh.
8. Riding in a car with my father behind the wheel – I love my father dearly, but he has been retired for a few years now and has fully entered that “Screw it, I’ve earned this…” phase in which traffic laws are viewed as unsolicited advice. Stop lights can be run if no one is around and turn signals are simply silly, unnecessary automobile extras like tissue box holders.
9. My entire 2011 Fantasy Football roster.
10. This contest on the official CBS “Criminal Minds” website. Seriously … an “Ultimate Fan” contest for a show about deranged serial killers? Isn’t this just tempting some nut job out there to commit a heinous crime modeled after one seen on the show? This would certainly prove their devotion to the program, while also giving them a chance at fame by ultimately becoming a plotline on the show itself. You’re playing with fire, CBS.
The contestants so far... Place your bets!
11. Circus Peanuts (see this post for full details)
12. Dogs that Bark at Me When I Jog Past Early in My Run, But Stare Silently When I Pass Again on the Way Home – I’ve noticed a trend recently when I run and it troubles me. When I energetically bound past a fenced-in dog about a block from my home, he chases me from one side of the yard to the other, barking ferociously. However, when I am plodding past the same yard on my way back, I strain to hear over my pounding pulse and squint to see through the sweat pouring from my forehead, and there is nothing. Then, just as I’m about to pass, I notice the beast looking at me from the corner of the yard, a disinterested look (or maybe a look of pity?) on his face. There’s no reason to chase this prey. This prey is dying. It will soon be lying helplessly on the ground. They say dogs can “smell” cancer. Can they sense my impending coronary?
"You are dead to me ... No, seriously, you might be dying, so I'll eat you after my nap or something."
It’s my birthday, so Sue me
"Abandon all hope of not stuffing your face, ye who enter here"
I hope my last meal looks something like this (but with a side of cheese fries).
I have a framed picture of this meal on my desk, next to photos of my wife and daughter.
Don't trust Crocodile Douchedee, Sue. In the end, he'll take you down for a death roll at the bottom of the lake.
No More Clowning Around
By now you’ve probably heard about the controversial push by doctors and public health leaders to get McDonald’s to retire Ronald McDonald and stop marketing to kids. Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about this issue and I must admit that I’m conflicted.
Who would want to do anything to hurt this somewhat creepy face?
On one hand, I understand the public health concern and don’t want to see our nation’s children drowning in frying grease, but I also remember Ronald as a part of my childhood. He holds a unique position in the pantheon of kiddie characters, in that he was not only amiable and entertaining, but accessible.
What do I mean by accessible? Allow me to explain… as a child, you always knew the “real” Mickey Mouse had big ears and a shiny new outfit and lived in Disney World. He was definitely not the dingy, small-eared version dancing around doing ‘jazz hands’ at the church carnival. And the “real” Batman — the one you watched on TV? He was probably in Hollywood, not appearing at the local car show. But Ronald McDonald was different. Every McDonald’s was just as “real” as the next. If you saw Ronald McDonald during a birthday party at McDonald’s, then it was THE Ronald McDonald. He may have looked or sounded slightly different than the one in TV commercials, but the one on TV didn’t always look the same from one commercial to the next anyway. Ronald was an aggressively friendly, ‘down to earth’ mascot for the masses.
But, if the times dictate that something must change, then something must change. However, I believe I have a compromise that will work for everyone. Instead of “killing off” Ronald McDonald and crushing those of us who have fond childhood memories of him (and of Grimace, Mayor McCheese and those French Fry Tribble things), I suggest a Ronald re-imagining. I propose a darker, morally complex Ronald. A clown that’s crying on the inside. A mascot that will alienate kids, but captivate adults and make the ladies swoon (while simultaneously making them crave a Filet-O-Fish).
I have two initial suggestions. These are just a beginning, but they should give you an idea of where I’m going…
“Ronald Re-imagined” Idea #1: Ronald McDraper
Scorned wives, mistresses and office backstabbers make for one Unhappy Meal when Ronald becomes a magnetic-but-troubled marketing exec for an up-and-coming fast food chain in the 1960s.
Booze, babes, and burgers…Who could ask for more?
“Ronald Re-imagined” Idea #2: Ronnie McDarko
Ronald as a strange, bunny-like creature that haunts the imagination of an unstable high school student who’s obsessed with Quarter Pounders, which, in turn, are the key to wormholes or time travel or some such nonsense.
Dark humor, twisted plot, and disturbingly bad photo manipulation.
Countdown to Christmas: Oy Joe!
The exciting-only-to-me Foodiot “Countdown to Christmas” continues with an amusing, early-80s TV spot for Hasbro’s G.I. Joe action figures. My first experience with G.I. Joe came at a very young age, when I took possession of one of my uncle’s freakishly fuzzy-haired, scar-faced G.I. Joe dolls from the late 60s/early 70s. Christmas brought me plenty of cool equipment and weapons for Chia Head Joe, but he remained a one-man fighting force without a proper enemy. If he wanted to see action, he was forced to fight the only other toys I had: Darth Vader, Godzilla, and supervillains like The Riddler. In short, Joe was way out of his league (Okay, he could take out The Riddler if he didn’t fall for his trickery, but still…).
Needless to say, I was excited when the updated G.I. Joe action figures were introduced and the line included an enemy: Cobra. Finally, I could have a full strike force of Joes (sadly, without fuzzy hair) fighting equivalent/appropriate villains in weird blue uniforms and masks! Unfortunately, my time with the new G.I. Joes was relatively short-lived, as I found myself growing out of my toy phase a year or two after their launch. Still, I enjoyed them for a few Christmases and long enough to recall the figure introduced in this TV commercial.
“I don’t know any Zartan … I’m just a innocent, bearded fetishest wandering in the jungle.”
Where do I begin with this one? How about … A villain who changes color in sunlight? Is this really an advantage if he’s still wearing clothes? I’m not impressed. Hell, even a civilian like me can change color in the sunlight, it just takes a while and I only blend in with Stop signs or JazzFest crowds. What is impressive, however, is Zartan’s vehicle. Who wouldn’t want a snowmobile/jet ski mashup that drives on rocks, flies, and is easily transformed into a heavy pile of junk you can drag around behind you?
I Laugh at Your Misfortune!
Posted by Rob in Advertising, Arkansas, Humor, Pictures on November 30, 2010
"Ha, ha! That must have hurt, but we can laugh about it now, right?
Personal injury attorney ads are everywhere and New Orleans certainly has it’s fair share. Some use lively testimonials from happy clients or upbeat theme songs, while others feature the attorneys themselves, deadly serious and all but tearing up on camera. The attorney in the picture above is from my home town of Little Rock, Ark., and he has found a fun way to inappropriately combine the upbeat and serious approaches to promoting legal services. If you have indeed been hit by a Big Rig, then you would be lucky to even see this sign. In fact, you may look a lot like a Fathead or a post-Road Runner encounter Wile E. Coyote. Nevertheless, Mr. Miller is apparently amused with your misfortune.
“You’re broken pelvis and cracked skull are simply delightful! Watching you writhe about like that just gives me giggle fits!” he seems to be saying with his glorious, white smile and squinting eyes. “Your agony will help me earn enough to buy suspenders in all the colors of the rainbow!”
Daddy Issues
Posted by Rob in Fatherhood, Humor, Parenting, Social Media on October 13, 2010
I'm wearing this 80s Bacon hairstyle until the birth.
I’m going to be a parent! A daddy. Da-Da. Papa. Pops. Pa.
This is, of course, an amazing and exciting time for my wife and I, but I do have some concerns and fears.
What are these worrisome thoughts, you may ask? Well, I’m not going to rehash all of stuff you’ll find in the bazillion books, blogs or newspaper columns for “expectant fathers.” I’m not going to get into things like finances, finding the right doctor, changing diapers, or other such trivialities. I’m going to get right to the critical issues.
Here are the things that are really weighing on my mind:
- Will I be expected to immediately change my Facebook profile picture to a picture of my child? If so, how long does this remain in place? Until age 3? 5? 8? Until we have another child? Until I’m bald and wrinkled?
- At what age should I create social media profiles for my child? When can he/she starts to “Digg” articles or share favorite YouTube videos? Six months? They say children pick up fast on these new technologies, so I’m going to test that. Maybe three months.
- People have recommended that we go ahead and get our child-to-be on the waiting lists for good day care, private school, etc. Is there a similar list for reality shows? Is there a waiting list for “Real World” or (God forbid) “Tool Academy”?
- My child will be roughly a week old (assuming our due date holds) by the time the first weekend of JazzFest rolls around. Will he/she be able to appreciate the experience at that age? Should I be playing some Nicholas Payton, Neville Brothers and Kermit Ruffins for him/her in the womb?
- Is someone working on/developing a baby monitor-social media combo device? Something that can tweet me updates on my baby? Better yet, a “Baby Foursquare” that allows he or she to ‘check in’ at the corner of the crib or, when old enough to crawl, from various landmarks around the room? I want my child to be “Mayor of the Changing Table,” so someone needs to make this happen.
- Do my “Interests” on Facebook change when I become a parent? Will I be forced to add such things as “Dora the Explorer,” Nickelodeon, and The Imagination Movers to my list? (This is neither here nor there, but I noticed that a few people I know on Facebook listed “Kids” as an interest. I found this somewhat disturbing. Perhaps it would be best if they put “MY kids” as an interest, or something of that nature. Just a thought.)
- Should I go ahead and stake out a place in social media for my unborn child? Start making “friends” for them or gathering followers? Will this make them feel more ‘welcome’ in the world? Oh, wait … Nevermind. It looks like someone at Fast Company has already been thinking about this.
- And, finally, will I pass on all of my midichlorians to my son/daughter so that the Force will be strong with he/she as well?
Snack Foods Nobody Likes: George Washington Carver’s Nightmare
Behold, my readers, “Snack Foods Nobody Likes” has returned with a vengeance. Spongy, orange vengeance.
Ladies and gentlesnackers … I present the much-loathed “Circus Peanuts”!
No, these aren't earplugs. They're candy.
I’ll admit that I struggled with this choice for two reasons: First, there is apparently a long-standing blog tradition of mocking Circus Peanuts and I don’t want to be repetitive. They’ve been chewed, smashed and nuked by a Web site devoted to bad candy; used for prop comedy by one blog; and given the designation of “unappealing” by another. Would I have anything new to say?
Secondly, the things are just so damned unpopular. The question about whether or not anyone actually liked them was asked at least as far back as 1998 and, it appears that even the people who make the ugly things dislike them. Would I be kicking a candy while it’s down?
Nevertheless, I decided to proceed. Too many of my friends and acquaintances voted for them and I had fond memories of my first encounter with these puffy pellets of hyperglycemic horror.
I recall that, as a high-school student, I was out with some friends one weekend for a little innocent merrymaking. This innocent (and by ‘innocent’, I don’t mean Disney/Dumbo/Bambi innocent, but, rather “American Graffiti”-style ‘fond memories of youthful antics’ innocent) excursion involved convincing an older, bearded friend to buy us beer to enhance the night’s carousing. While milling about in the convenience store and trying not to look like I had any association with our bearded buyer, I came across Circus Peanuts hanging on a rack with other cheap candies. I was so amused by their bizarre appearance that I purchased them and they became the source of much laughter for the remainder of the evening.
For all your moralists out there, fear not. Though we were circumventing the law and generally behaving foolishly, I still managed to learn a valuable life lesson: Never, under any circumstances, should one buy or consume Circus Peanuts. Orange vomit is not considered “cool” or attractive by young women.
I also learned that when you slur “Circus Peanuts” it sounds a lot like “Circus Penis” and this makes drunk teenagers giggle, but that’s neither here nor there.
For the record, this site offers a bit of history on Circus Peanuts, but I have my own theory as to their origins. I believe that the makers of packing peanuts were simply looking for a way to recycle their product and/or make money off leftovers, so they chose to coat them in orange, goopy sugar (M&M-like chocolate shells wouldn’t stick) and resold them to candy brokers. See the evidence below…
Now...
Then
Diary of a Wimpy Run 2: Real World Boogaloo
Posted by Rob in Fitness, Humor, Music, New Orleans, Uncategorized on September 17, 2010
This next phase of my run is really the most dangerous. The first problem is that it’s still early and I’m not really warmed up yet. Pausing for traffic gives me time to think about quitting. My legs are still angry with me for dragging them out for this nonsense and I’m starting to think of things I should probably be doing instead (like downloading new music for future runs). Also, I notice the cabs that mysteriously congregate on the side of Sacred Heart and realize that I could flag one down and get a ride home.
A ride home or a hit-and-run waiting to happen?
Somehow I find the mental strength to soldier on and I step out into the street. This is where the second problem comes in … those cabs. They sit there idling, the drivers chatting loudly on cell phones and paying no heed to their surroundings. Sometimes, like an assassin who has been waiting for just right moment, a cabbie will suddenly gun it and come hurtling toward me at top speed.
After dodging the cabs and surviving the speeders on Napoleon, I enter a block populated by very untrusting canines. The first one is a mystery to me. From his frantic, high-pitched bark, I believe it to be small, but I can’t say for sure. He lives on a patio behind a condo and is hidden behind a tall fence that he bangs up against in his fury to get at me.
I'm not sure how long this fence will hold.
A new song begins on the iPod and it gives me the inspiration I need to get through this zone: “Danke Schoen” by a young Wayne Newton.” Sure, it’s odd choice for a run. You certainly won’t find it on any of those Nike workout playlists available in the iTunes store, but it works for me. It’s upbeat and “happy” and I never fail to chuckle at how Young Wayne sounds like a 14-year-old girl. It also makes me think of the time I actually went to a Wayne Newton show and he fell into the front row while trying to accept hugs and flowers from elderly fans. Danke Schoen indeed, Wayne. Danke Schoen.
Next, I pass in front of a house with a fenced front yard occupied by two lazy, large dogs and one energetic little Benji. Benji hates me with a passion and he tries to rouse the others from their porch naps in order to form a posse. Occasionally one of them will get up and stumble down the steps looking befuddled, but only Benji makes it to the fence to unleash barking hell.
Oh Heavenly Attack Dogs
After Benji and his gang, I come upon Sacred Heart - More Impressive Campus. Here, much work is underway and I’m forced to run in the street. I might have run right into large holes in the sidewalk if not for these helpful signs …
If not for this sign, I'd plunge right into that muddy pit.
Next up, I enter the Twilight Zone. That’s what I call the part of my route through the neighborhood, from roughly the block past Sacred Heart to the interesection of St. Charles and Jefferson. Things I have seen on this part of my route during the past year or so: A family on horseback, a speeding horse and buggy, a man in a top hat with a cane, someone in an Easter Bunny costume. The most terrifying encounter? The cast of The Real World: New Orleans.
Speaking of the Real World, the next major landmark on my run is The Real World: New Orleans house, which sits on an otherwise peaceful, pleasant block. Appropriately, the next song to pop up on the iPod is “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed.
Once The Real World house, now a home for wayward yard signs.
On several occassions last winter and spring, I ran past the Real World House and had no idea what was going on. Every evening it was lit up like a Vegas casino and there was always a group of young people loitering around outside. I assumed they were simply kids throwing parties while their wealthy parents were out of town. Little did I know that, on several occassions, I was likely running right past the perhaps-crazy-enough-to-be-homicidal Ryan. I could have been maimed, killed or, worse, vomited on.
If you didn’t experience the horror of The Real World New Orleans for yourself and don’t fully understand how close I was to danger, just watch this and fear for society: Real World: New Orleans | Ep. 2 | Knight Fights, Love Bites
Now, each time I pass this area, my pace quickens and I’m inspired to make it home to safety as fast as I can. In fact, this is the point where things get a little blurry…
Blazing speed: what scenery looks like when I turn on the burners...
In fact, the only time I pause on my way home is to put my hand over my heart and say a quick Pledge of Allegiance at this house…
Diary of a Wimpy Run, Part 1
Posted by Rob in Fitness, Humor, New Orleans, Pictures on September 14, 2010
As a relatively new blogger, I feel it’s important that I open up and let you, my non-existent readers, know exactly what makes me tick. I believe that one way to go about this is to bring you along with me on my biannual run. I will recount for you where I go, what I think about and how I survive on one of these sweat-soaked excursions.
I will begin with the hard part: The beginning. This is where the voice on my new Nike iPhone app taunts me with the distance I have to travel and I briefly consider bringing the trash can inside instead. Ultimately, I decide that I should go ahead with the run (the trash can wait on the curb the remainder of the week).
I turn the first corner and encounter the first dog that barks at me. He’s hidden behind the white fencing next to the metal garage and garbage cans in the rear of the vaguely creepy older house – the kind of house common Uptown. I’m sure you’re familiar with the type: too big for the small family inside, badly in need of a paint job (or two or three paint jobs), and undergoing seemingly never-ending repairs.
Soon I encounter the first of many low-hanging tree limbs I will have to dodge along my journey. The summer is always a pain, because the leaves (and often, rain) weigh down the branches along the route, forcing me to “limbo lower now.” Fall and winter offer only marginal improvement, as the limbs are higher without the weight of leaves, but they become like bony fingers trying to gouge my eyes out.
First song on the iPod – “You Could Be Mine” by Guns & Roses. I only recently added this to my list. Haven’t listened to GNR in years. This one always makes me think of Terminator 2 and helps me push any memory I have of “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines” and “Terminator 4: Christian Bale’s Tirade” out of my head. Only drawback: I can’t resist singing out loud in my worst Axl voice, sending people running from their porches and squirrels scurrying into the trees.
I come to a busy corner and am momentarily confused by this sign…
I know I've seen this red shape somewhere before...
After deciding what to do, I move on and consider other challenges. Beyond low-hanging limbs, my second major concern is the sidewalks – I don’t always run on them, but when I do, I’m risking everything. You might call it ‘urban trail running.’ Lots of ups and downs, with tree roots, cracks, vines, trash cans and sleeping cats to dodge. One of the houses I pass early in the route has a supply of orange cones, homemade signs and other materials out front. I believe they use them as a desperate, last-ditch method of communicating repair needs to the Department of Public Works. Or maybe just to warn fools like me.
After a few blocks of peaceful, neighborhood scenery comes the “I’ve Got My Eye On You, Pervert” Zone. Passing between Sacred Heart’s Mater Campus for younger girls and the Junior League building, I always see an off-duty cop strolling the sidewalk or sitting in a patrol car. Typically he stares at me and never, ever does he say ‘hello’. He maintains this “pissed off” bouncer façade as I make my way down the block. Oddly, he seems to have no problem smiling and chatting it up with attractive Junior Leaguers coming or going.
I keep my Axl voice silent during this stretch.
The Fortress of Junior League-itude
Next up on the iPod: Oingo Boingo’s “Weird Science,” another new addition. Makes me thing of Bill Paxton as Chet (“How bout a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?”).
As I wait for traffic to pass so I can cross Napoleon, I begin to daydream. I decide that, should I become famous, I wouldn’t want to be a flash in the pan. I’d want to be someone with enduring fame, like Peter Facinelli. I would also want to be the kind of dynamic screen or stage presence that commands attention. A real scenery chewer, like Freddie Prinze, Jr. Finally, I think, I’d also want to be known for being choosy and for my track record of high-quality projects, like Matthew Perry.
To be continued tomorrow in “Diary of a Wimpy Run 2: Real World Boogaloo.”
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