First, you limp to the left like your leg was broken...

I love my mp3 player. I call it my dPod. (Like an iPod, but the Dell equivalent.) On it, I have loads and loads of music of all sorts. One minute I’ll be listening to “Recitar” from Pagliacci and then the next minute will bring “When Worlds Collide” by Powerman 5000. I love the variety that is available with the mp3 player.

However, the other day I discovered a major disadvantage to listening to my mp3 player or a cd in my car versus listening to the radio. I was coming back from lunch and had left my mp3 player at work, so I was “stuck” with the radio. Lo and behold, Digital Underground’s “Humpty Dance” comes on the station to which I am listening. Unable to resist it’s rhythmic awesomeness, I start waving my head from side to side and doing my best “car dance.” (You know how the “car dance” works…it’s all in the shoulders.) As I approached a stoplight, I looked over at the car in the next lane and was shocked, amazed, and impressed to see some other dude who, obviously, was listening to the same station as he was doing his own version of the “car dance.” There was that awkward moment when we both realized what each other was doing, but then the rhythm took over and more fun was had by all.

So it’s possible that the mp3 player and cd player are working in unison to kill off the simultaneous multi-car dance. Which is just a cryin’ shame, if you ask me…

More interesting, however, is how people act while in their cars. Admit it…when you’re in your car, you feel alone and secure. When a song comes on that you adore, you belt it out from the top of your lungs as if no one else in the world knows what you are doing. You are full of confidence because you think no one else is around you in earshot. The second someone catches you, though, you shy away from the music and look straight ahead, trying to avoid eye contact at all costs.

Why is this? Are we just that insecure? If we just “thought” that nobody was around would we be free to act out the way we really feel?

Today, be the “alone-in-the-car” version of yourself. Belt out a song. Dance a dance. I think you’ll find that you like it.

Just don’t get into an accident*.

Much luv,
Rob

*Rob’s Random Musings is not responsible for any damage caused by following any advice provided.
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Song of the Day: “The Nile’s Edge” by VAST

Touché, magic hallway…

Sometimes, I hate my brain. I remember some of the most absolutely insane things. For example, I heard “More Than A Woman” by The Bee Gees this afternoon and my thoughts immediately turned to the movie Short Circuit because Johnny #5 sang it to the girl in that movie for less than one minute. That was back in 1986. 21 years ago…yet my brain managed to make the connection in about two seconds.

How does that happen? Ask me what I had for dinner last night and I’ll just stare blankly, but I remember what song a stupid robot sang in a movie oh-so-long ago. I wonder how much room there really is inside my brain, and how much of it is wasted with trivial facts about old movies and music. How much more important could the retained things in my head be if there weren’t so much junk in there?

Sometimes all of these random memories make me feel a little like my good buddy J.D. from Scrubs. Someone will be talking to me and say something that triggers some memory, and I’ll look up and to the left (why always up and to the left?) as some bizarre scene plays out in my head. Moments later, I snap back into reality and the person talking to me gives me a look that says, “O….K…?”

I just can’t help it. That’s the way I’m wired up and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

So what to do about it? I figure that someday it will pay off on some game show when I remember that the scientist trying to recover the missing Johnny #5 was named Benjamin or can name that tune in just three notes.

Until then, I’ll just remain distracted. (Don’t take it personally.)

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Hold on Hope” by Guided By Voices

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming…

So it has been brought to my attention by some of you reader-types that this little blog could benefit from a little more joy and lot less cynicism. Today, I will attempt to bring you some happiness.

Here goes…

Happiness (n.) good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.

Just where does one find this happiness? Nobel Peace Prize winner Albert Schweitzer once said:

“I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I do know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.”

What? Serving brings happiness? Can that be true? Doesn’t that fly in the face of everything we’ve ever been taught as Americans? Often we are told that when we get enough “stuff” or are in charge of enough people that we will obtain this ever-elusive happiness. The fundamental problem with attempting to acquire things is that there is always more out there for us to seek to obtain. Animated billionaire and slightly less credible source once had this exchange with Homer Simpson:

Homer: “Ya know, Mr. Burns, you’re the richest guy I know. Way richer than Lenny.”
Monty: “Yes, but I’d trade it all for a little more.”

Sure, that may come from a cartoon, but there’s a solid lesson to be learned. (See, Pastor Scott, you can make an example from anything!) Someone who has gained so much financially and is seated in a position of power is unsatisfied with what he possesses.

But serving? Come on, you must be kidding! When you break it down, finding the original source of happiness becomes necessary for figuring out how to obtain it. The answer is simple:

It is a gift from God.

John Piper discusses in his book, "Desiring God," the idea of Christian Hedonism. Hedonism is defined as the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the highest good. So what is Christian Hedonism? If happiness is a gift from God, then it would makes sense that pursuing God would lend itself to being our main source of happiness.

So how do we pursue God? To stay on point with what our buddy Al (that’s Mr. Schweitzer) had to say, one of the ways we can pursue God is to serve others. It says in the book of Philippians:

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourself. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.”

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg…

Seems like Albert knew what he was talking about…

So give it a shot. Serve someone. Serve someone who doesn’t even deserve it. Happiness will follow.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Hook” by Blues Traveler

Fleshy-headed mutant, are you friendly?

How’s it goin’, eh?

As it was foretold last Friday at Kate’s party…

“And lo, they shall gather at Primrose and take in a projected image of that which is most hilarious, most enthralling, and most Canadian.”

Last night a couple of us got together and watched Strange Brew. Now, I hadn’t seen it in many, many years and was certain that it wouldn’t have stood the test of time.

My friends, I could not have been more wrong. Strange Brew is, in fact, still hilarious, if not more hilarious than it had ever been. If given the chance, I encourage any and all of you to get your hands on a copy of this film and watch it while drinking a Molson. (I don’t even like beer, but felt it was in the spirit of the evening.)

Follow that up with some Scrubs and The Office and my Thursday night was awesome, and I find that I am in a mood of highest quality. It seems that laughter is conducive to happiness, so I offer these simple truths about laughter:

When we laugh we ...
- Alleviate depression;
- Lower our blood pressure;
- Promote relaxation;
- Reduce stress;
- Increase the oxygen level in our blood, giving us more energy;
- Increase the endorphin activity in our body resulting in a sense of well being;
- Are able to keep things in perspective;
- Banish boredom;
- Are more socially attractive - people enjoy being with those who laugh easily and often; and
- Immeasurably increase our enjoyment of life.
Laughter has been called social glue because it bonds us to the people we laugh with. The message is clear: To live better ... laugh more.

If it feels good to laugh then laugh to feel good.

So laugh.

Like now, eh!

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Am I Ever Gonna Change” by Extreme

Brought to you by Aleve…

“Ow!”

That was my first word of the day as I sat up in bed to turn off my alarm clock. (It plays the theme from Firefly, for any who are curious.) I think that I’ve pulled a muscle in my back. It happened last Friday and I’ve been taking things slow, but yesterday while picking up a heavier box at work it began to slip from my hands and I tried to catch it. (It’s my cat-like reflexes that are my undoing.) In doing so, I tweaked things a bit and am now very, very sore.

The upshot is I get to actually use a sick day from work and stay home to watch some awesome daytime tv. I think that Maury Povich is having gender-confused aliens who aren’t sure who is the father of their baby on the show today. Time for boot camp!

It seems that America’s Funniest Home Videos is on much of the day on various channels. It’s always fun to watch people getting hit by things which brings me to the single greatest idea that I have ever had:

IMPACT television.

Seriously, it would be a 24-hour per day network that just featured footage of people hitting things or being hit by things. It never gets old seeing people get hit in the comedy zones (the face and the groin) over and over again. Never again would you be forced to watch commercials during your favorite programming. During commercials, just tune in to IMPACT television for a few minutes to get loads of laughs or wince in some sympathetic pain.

I know that I’d watch. Of course, it would again have me saying:

“Ow!”

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “La Valse D'amelie (Theme From Amelie)” by Yann Tierson

The answer is four…

Firstly, it’s very funny watching Steve try to adjust to actually working. He just can’t bring himself to go to bed, and I think it’s hilarious. He’s said at least half a dozen times so far, “Alright guys, I’m goin’ to bed.” Yet he’s still sitting here…not sleeping.

HA!

So I got to thinking about a question I was recently asked: “What was the last song playing on your mp3 player?”

I realize that right now the answer to that question is “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I may need to turn in one of my man-cards or something. I listen to a little bit of everything, but I’m now paranoid about whatever might be the “last” thing to which I was listening because you just never know when someone might ask you, “Hey, what’s the last song you heard?” Don’t let yourself be caught in my current position where “Elton John” might be the answer you have to give.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that…

Did you know that Sir Elton John’s middle name is Hercules? He was born with the name Reginald Kenneth Dwight. He changed it to Elton Hercules John. The “Sir” part came much later, after he began donning those giant, Sauron-sized glasses that, I can only assume, grant him x-ray vision or something. He can probably see me right now with those things. (How many fingers am I holding up, Sir Elton?)

Why am I rambling on about Elton John?

I don’t have a good answer for that. I guess I’m just hung up thinking about the last song I heard tonight.

I suppose it could have been worse. At least it wasn’t “The Girl From Ipanema.”

Don’t judge me.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “L’Arena” by Ennio Morricone

Or I might just go bowling…

Discovered a nice blues riff on the ol’ bass guitar tonight. Now, I can’t really say that I’ve got any real reason to sing the blues, but I stumbled across this handy, dandy guide for doing just that. So here they are, the rules for singin’ the blues:

1. Most Blues begin “woke up this morning.”

2. “I got a good woman” is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick something nasty in right away:
I got a good woman—with the meanest face in town.

3. Blues are simple. After you have the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that rhymes. Sort of.
I got a good woman—with the meanest face in town.
I got a good woman—with the meanest face in town.
She got teeth like Margaret Thatcher and she weighs 500 pounds.

4. The Blues are not about limitless choice. You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a ditch; ain't no way out.

5. Blues cars are Chevies, Cadillacs and broken-down trucks. Other acceptable Blues transportation modes include Greyhound buses and southbound trains. Walkin’ plays a major part in the Blues lifestyle. So does fixin’ to die. Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or SUVs. Jet aircraft and state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running.

6. Adults sing the Blues. Teenagers can’t sing the Blues. They ain't fixin' to die yet. In the Blues, "adulthood" means old enough to get the electric chair when you shoot that man in Memphis.

7. You can have the Blues in New York City, but not in Brooklyn or Queens. Hard times in Vermont, Tucson, or North Dakota are just depression. The best places to have the Blues are still Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City. You cannot have the blues in any place that don't get rain.

8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the blues. A woman with male pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg while skiing is not the blues. Breaking your leg when your broken-down pickup truck rolled over on it is.

9. The following colors do not belong in the Blues: violet, beige, mauve (unless you’re truly desperate for a rhyme).

10. You can’t have the Blues in an office or a shopping mall. The lighting is just plain wrong. Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.

11. Good places to have the Blues: the highway, a jailhouse, an empty bed, the bottom of a whiskey glass. Bad places to have the Blues: ashrams, gallery openings, weekends in the Hamptons, golf courses, Tiffany's, and Ivy League institutions.

12. No one will believe it’s the Blues if you wear a suit, unless you happen to be an old black man—and it’s an old black suit.

13. Do you have the right to sing the Blues?
Answer “Yes” if:
a. your first name is a southern state—like Georgia
b. you’re blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis.
d. you can’t be satisfied.
e. you're older than dirt
Answer “No” if:
a. you once were blind but now can see.
b. you’re deaf
c. the man in Memphis lived.
d. you have a trust fund or an IRA.
e. you have all your teeth
f. you were once blind but now can see

14. Blues is not about color, it's about bad luck. Tiger Woods cannot sing the blues; Gary Coleman could. Ugly old white people got a leg up on the blues. Julio Iglesias and Barbra Streisand will never sing the Blues.

15. If you ask for water and baby gives you gasoline, it’s the Blues. Other acceptable Blues beverages are: wine, whiskey, muddy water, beer, black coffee. Blues beverages are NOT: mixed drinks, kosher wine, sparkling water, Snapple, Starbucks Frappuccino, or Slim Fast. Although Rubber Biscuits and the Wish Sandwich are famous blues snacks, better stick to common blues grub like Greasy Bar-b-que, Fatback and beans, and Government cheeze. Blues food is never: Club sandwich, Sushi, or Crème brule.

16. If it occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it’s a Blues death. Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is a Blues death. So is substance abuse, the electric chair, or being denied treatment in an emergency room. It is not a Blues death to die during liposuction or from tennis elbow.

17. Excellent names for female Blues singers: Sadie, Big Momma, Bessie, or Fat River Dumpling. Excellent names for male Blues singers: Willie, Joe, Little Willie, Lightning, or Big Willie. Singers with names like Muffy, Sierra, Auburn, Alexis, Gwenyth, Sequoiz, Brittany or Rainbow are not permitted to sing the Blues, no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.

18. The Build Your Own Blues Singer Name Starter Kit:
a. Name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, Asthmatic)
b. First name (from above lists) or name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi)
c. Last name of a U. S. president (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.)
Examples: Blind Lime Jefferson, Cripple Kiwi Fillmore, etc. (Okay, maybe not "Kiwi"…)

19. I don't care how tragic your life; if you own a computer, you cannot sing the Blues.
You'd best destroy it. Fire, a spilled bottle of Mad Dog, or shotgun.
Maybe your big ass woman just done sit on it. I don't care

20. Hey there, you can READ! This too be a big ol' problem. Most folks singin' the
Blues ain't never had much a chance for education. In the Blues… the three R's stand
for Railroads, Runnin' and Rehab.

21. It gots to be dark to sing the blues, preferably after midnight. Singin' da blues at noon is forbidden.

22. If none of the above works, try one last, pathetic stab at authenticity: name your guitar. Remember, Lucille is taken.

23. Epitaph on a blues musician's tombstone: "I didn't wake up this morning.”

I suddenly have the urge to go watch “The Long Kiss Goodnight.” [singing] Putting the keys in my left pocket. Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm. Gun in the right-hand side.[/singing]

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Find My Baby” by Moby

The sky is the limit…

Boy, what a boring weekend. Absolutely nothing happened at all. Ho hum.

Wait, no, that’s not right. This weekend was great! I have a nephew now! On Saturday, February 17th, little Liam was born! William Hanul (not sure on the spelling of that part yet) Mayer came into this world weighing an even seven pounds and measuring 19.5 inches long. It was an exciting time for the family. Sarah was such a trooper…never took the pain meds. She even finished the labor in time to see the three-point contest like she had hoped. One of the first things she asked me afterwards was, “What time is the three point shootout?” Rumor has it that Dirk was going to dedicate this victory to Sarah and Liam, but he came up short. Too bad.

But my nephew is awesome. He came into this world with his eyes wide open, and seemed extremely attentive to everything going on around him. It was very neat to see.

Grandma and Grandpa Yun were a blast as well. The communication barrier was fun to overcome. Sure, I didn’t know what they were saying most of the time, but the joy in the room was understandable in any language. I remember at one point in time, Grandpa Yun looked at me and said something. I did not know what he was saying at first, but then he started to make a basketball shooting motion and then pointed to Liam and me. I’ve been instructed by grandpa to teach Liam some basketball. That sounds like a pretty good task to me. I look forward to it.

So congrats to Bill and Sarah! May Liam bring you lots of joy and happiness!

And to the rest of you…Happy President’s Day! Go do something patriotic.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Rockstar” by Nickelback

You know, for kids…

Did you know that today is Kim Jong-il’s birthday? It is. He is now 66 years old, and looks as good as the day he turned 65 and 364/365ths. Happy birthday, buddy! (Please don’t nuke us!)

And just what do you get for one of the most feared men on the planet? A necktie? The latest dvd set of Seinfeld? A thermonuclear device?

I think I’d get him what every red-blooded human being wants…a flamethrower. A wise man (ie: some dude on a website somewhere) once said, “The very existence of flame-throwers proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, ‘You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I'm just not close enough to get the job done.’”

Profound words from someone who’s spent a little too much time playing first person shooters on the computer, if you ask me, but it seems true enough.

Kinda makes you wonder what other inventions came along under odd circumstances. Who was the first person to design a hula-hoop? Did they just pick up a ring of some sort and wonder, “I bet if I wiggle my hips about like so, this thing will stay up off of the ground and provide hours of entertainment.” It was such a simple concept that companies added little touches, such as different materials and noisemakers, to capitalize on it and make marketable.

Now, if only there were some way to combine the simplicity of the hula-hoop with the sheer awesomeness of the flamethrower…

Hmm…

I think I’ll give Hasbro a call.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Caribbean Queen” by Billy Ocean (Oh, Billy, after the Pacific and the Arctic, you’re my favorite ocean.)

It’s no Street Fighter…

First, I’d like to thank the mystery person who sent a very encouraging card to my roommates and me. Your words were very kind and much appreciated. (Very nice handwriting, too.) So if you’re reading this, thanks!

Now…

Killer instinct. No, I’m not talking about the old Super Nintendo game that pitted two foes against each other in a fight to drain each other’s life bar. If you were me playing that game, it pretty much consisted of running your fighter towards the other fighter and then mashing the buttons as fast as you could possibly could while taunting your opponent.

Good times…

Tonight I played in a “league” basketball game. Now, when I play basketball, I usually am just in it to have some fun and typically am not even aware of the current score. I typically get distracted talking to people and on occasion even daydream. (Sometimes causing an ear-to-ear grin before draining an unnecessary deuce for the game, causing much misinterpretation and leading to a whole lot of grief directed my way…) My point is, for the first time ever playing basketball, I ran into someone much like myself on the court tonight. The guy I was tasked with guarding from the other team had a very similar attitude toward the game. Early on, we got tied up going for a rebound and both ended up falling down. I was pretty sure that I fouled the guy, but no whistle was blown by the referee, who I’m pretty certain was busy thinking about the fact that he was missing tonight’s episode of Lost (another great one, btw). I helped the guy get back up and said something like, “Sorry, dude. Pretty sure I got you on that one.” “No problem, would be nice if someone else on my team was around for that rebound, though.” We began to jaw at each other for the rest of the game, and I realized that at no point did I see this guy as “the enemy.” He was as passive as myself.

Seeing it in someone else, though, it became clear that passivity just doesn’t get it done in basketball. At one point, one of my teammates said, “You have GOT to get more aggressive out there.” I just don’t have it in me, though.

So where is it? Where’s my killer instinct? Is it gone for good? How can I track it down? Should I bother? Did one of you take it? Can I have it back?

Ultimately, I guess I’m just not that competitive on the basketball court. If you break out the old SNES, though, you’re in for a world of hurt, darlin’.

Bring it.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Snow (Hey Oh)” by Red Hot Chili Peppers (seems fitting)

Personally, I think that the T-800 and T-X would make a cute couple…

The word “irony” comes to mind as I sit down and begin to write what I think will be something about Valentine’s Day. You see, it’s half time of the Bulls game (they’re down by 5 right now) and I flipped the channel to find Terminator 3 playing on AMC.

Nothing inspires you to write about Valentine’s Day like a pair of nigh-indestructible cyborgs shooting each other and smashing up a bathroom while the fate of the world hangs in the balance. (In a word: Awesome.)

But about Valentine’s Day…what does a single guy have to say about this holiday? Well, I did a little bit of digging to learn more about it. It turns out that the holiday is named after Saint Valentine, which actually refers to some martyred saints of ancient Rome. Originally, February 14th was celebrated with a great feast and it wasn’t until about the fourteenth century that the holiday was associated with romance due to some creative historical liberties taken by Geoffrey Chaucer. Now the holiday is exclusively thought of in a romantic manner.

Amazing what someone can do just by writing something. They can actually change the way history is remembered. (Hmmm…)

For me, I can’t say that I’ve given a whole lot of thought about Valentine’s Day. Tomorrow will be just another day for me. One in which I’ll probably have to shovel more snow and drive in nasty traffic. For many others, though, it’s a day to spend some extra time with that special someone you really care about and show them just how much they mean to you.

So that’s it from me regarding Valentine’s Day. No snarky comments. It’s just a little history lesson.

I’ll look forward to the Korean holiday, Black Day. It takes place on April 14th and is a day set aside for males who did not receive anything for Valentine’s Day in which they gather together to eat Jajangmyun. (Chinese noodles in black sauce.)

I think in the Chicago area we can substitute an Italian beef.

Yum.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Who Did You Think I Was” by John Mayer Trio

I miss donkey...

As a self-proclaimed movie snob, something drew my ire today. I was browsing through the news a bit and stumbled across the list of the top-grossing movies from this weekend. Granted, it is a slow time for movies right now…but Norbit was #1 by a large, large margin.

Seriously, Norbit. (I must warn you...clicking that link may be hazardous to your mental health.)

Why? How? WHY????

For those who haven’t been assaulted with any of the commercials for this mess, I’ll sum it up for you. Eddie Murphy plays three different parts, all of which are ridiculously annoying. THE END.

Having watched Gladiator only yesterday, I still had the taste of some good film on my lips when I ran across the story and I just can’t help but wonder why people braved the winter cold to go see this “film.” Are they that bored? Couldn’t find a better way to throw away $9.75 on a weekend? Were they subliminally brainwashed to do so? (Do something awesome for Rob.) Maybe they were just so awestruck from the Bears loss a week ago and just needed to escape.

Regardless, a lot of people made a bad decision, and now someday we’ll see a sequel in which Eddie Murphy will play even more annoying characters and they’ll throw in some token, white has-been like Pauly Shore.. Frankly, I am saddened at the thought, and it will probably plague my dreams.

So I urge you, faithful readers, in the name of good taste…please don’t let Norbit be #1 again next weekend. Please.

On to happier news, the Dixie Chicks say that they might be ready to make nice. Isn’t that precious…

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “Good Time” by Leroy

I can't feel my toes...

Anyone else from Calvary come home from church and watch Gladiator? Surely, I’m not the only one…

Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but lately in the Chicago-land area it has been just a wee-bit on the chilly side. No, seriously, it has…

As I ponder why it is that my fingers just can’t seem to keep warm no matter what I attempt, I got to thinking that there surely must be some good things about the cold. Everything has its merit, right? Right?

So today I offer up a top five list. From the home office in Schaumburg, IL I bring you:

Top Five Reasons why the Extreme Cold is Better than the Extreme Heat
5) Coffee. It just seems better in the bitter cold weather.
4) Penguins! They can do that cool slide thing that we, as humans, must envy for all of our lives.
3) Excessive sweating is just disgusting. There are no two ways about it.
2) That wonderful feeling you get when you sniffle and feel everything inside your nose freeze up. Mmm…

and the #1 reason…
1) You can always wear more layers of clothing. There are only so many layers that you can remove…at least according to stupid laws.

Feels warmer already, doesn’t it?

No, I’m still cold, too.

(Only 37 more days until spring!)

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “White Rabbit” by Blue Man Group (originally by Jefferson Airplane, but I like this version better)

Fairy tales are full of crap…

First off, I’d just like to say that I love Lost. As I write this, I’m sitting on the Thomasville watching season two of Lost with Nick and occasionally taunting him…”I know what’s gonna happen. I know what’s gonna happen.”

Last night’s episode of Lost was pretty cool, and that’s all I’m gonna say about that lest I spoil it for any of you who are not caught up. (I cannot, however, vouch that nothing will be spoiled in the comment section. So if you’re worried about stuff like that, be wary of what you read.)

Today I’d like to carry on with the next installment of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, er...I mean, Ridiculously Insane!

Just when you thought our favorite astronaut story couldn’t be topped, I heard about this story. Apparently, things had gotten so bad between Angela Nellany and her husband, Paul, that she wanted him dead. He was allergic to wasps and she put a can of grape soda in his car in an effort to use wasps to sting him to death. Later, she tried to hire a friend’s boyfriend to kill her husband. She paid him the handsome sum of $300 to start and promised another $300 when the job was done. Being a man who could think on his feet, he promptly spent the initial $300 and then went to tell the husband of his crazy wife’s intentions. The husband then went to the authorities.

During the investigations, the detectives learned that Paul had gotten random phone calls from “anonymous people” who said that his wife was trying to kill him. It wasn’t even the first time that he had heard that his wife wanted him dead.

Now, there are several things wrong with this scenario:

1)Who uses wasps to try and kill someone? Turns out that their kids were in the car during this attempt and they could’ve been killed too! I mean, come on, wasps? Was she inspired by last summer’s blockbuster Snakes On A Plane? Now we have wasps in a car!

2)Paul went on record to say that this wasn’t the first time that his wife had wanted him dead. Now, I don’t know about you, but if someone wanted me dead (why would someone want to kill me, anyway? Don’t answer that.), I’d remove myself from their presence yesterday. And then I’d move even further away. And when I was done with that moving, I’d move again.

3)$300 to kill someone? I’d have demanded at LEAST $350.

But seriously, what is going on? Where are all the normal people? For once, I just want to read something “normal” in the news, for example:

Schaumburg, IL - Today a local man sat on his comfy couch while watching old episodes of Lost with his roommate and writing in his blog. Shortly after, one of his admiring readers sent him a check for $1,000 and provided him with a monkey butler.

See, isn’t that better? I agree.

You know where to send the check.

Much luv,
Rob
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Song of the Day: “My Overkill” by Colin Hay (is that obscure enough for you, F3?)

#29

Sometimes I wonder to myself, “Rob, how do you expect to find something to write about frequently?” Some days it is pretty difficult to find something interesting. Some days I’m just not sure I’m going to find anything at all.

And then there’s days like today…

Have you heard the recent story of Lisa Nowak? She’s an astronaut with NASA. She recently found her way into the news for doing something rather special. Remember how I said that Dictionary.com had 28 definitions for “love?” Well, this story has GOT to merit definition number 29.

Lisa Nowack became obsessed with a fellow astronaut and “was accused of hatching an extraordinary plot to kidnap the woman she believed was her rival” for the affections of this other astronaut. So she hopped in her car to drive approximately 900 miles to accomplish this task. Naturally, she donned some adult diapers so that she could avoid making any unnecessary bathroom stops. She brought with her some pepper spray, a knife, a BB gun (possibly an official Red Ryder carbine action two hundred shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time), a new steel mallet, and some rubber tubing.

All this comes from a NASA astronaut.

Now, I’m no rocket scientist, but I’m fairly certain that this lady, who as recently as July was on board the shuttle “Discovery,” should not be one either. Aren’t astronauts subject to some pretty stiff screening procedures? How did little Lisa get through?

When children are young (as most of them are) and asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up,” there are a few answers that pop up more frequently than others. Some might say that they want to be a fireman, superstar athlete, or a movie star. Others probably said that they’d want to be an astronaut.

Just makes me a little nervous now…that’s all.

And to give a little help to Dictionary.com, I’ll go ahead and offer definition #29:

love (luv) n. – the state of mind in which one will do absolutely insane acts to attract the attention of another…who probably is frightened at the sight of you in diapers wielding a knife and some rubber tubing.

Much luv (not the #29 kind),
Rob

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Song of the Day: “19th Nervous Breakdown” by Rolling Stones
(I threw a link in there for you, F3)

BLOGGIN' 2: Electric Boogaloo

So it’s been 412 days since I last wrote something for the good ol’ Rob’s Ridiculous Rants blog. (May it rest in peace.) Ok, I don’t really know exactly how many days it has been, but it sounded like a good number. Since that blogsite decided to start charging to maintain the posts, I let it die down and over 100 articles are gone forever. (So sad, but I’m writing in Word and saving this time around.) Lately, there have been occasions when I felt the urge to take up the pen/keyboard and start writing again.

However, I needed something to inspire me. I needed something that would really get my creative juices flowing. I needed something that would make this feel more like fun and less like work. It just so happens that I’ve found it…the ultimate muse:

Love.

Dictionary.com has 28 definitions for the word “love.”

I am talking about that most sacred kind of love. A love that lasts through good and bad, through thick and thin, through the heights of miracle comebacks against the Cardinals and the lowly defeats to the Packers. I’m talking about a love for my Super Bowl runner’s up…

Da Bears.

(Where did you think I was going with this?)

It’s been an interesting two days since Devin Hester wowed us (and shut my mouth up) with his opening kick return for a touchdown. Since then, there has been a party in Indianapolis, permission has been given to Ron Rivera to interview with the Cowboys, and approximately three million articles have been written bashing Rex Grossman.

Have we become spoiled? The city of Chicago isn’t used to this. When we make it to the title games, we win, right? That’s just how we roll. (Unless, of course, you’re a hockey fan and remember the Blackhawks getting swept by the Penguins.) We have always won the big games.

Until now.

So what do we do? How do we cope? Some people are incessantly optimistic and cry out, “Wait ‘til next year!” (Cubs fans, I’m looking in your direction.) Others say, “The team is just too young and inexperienced.” (Bulls fans, that’d be you.) Still others might say, “We were just one big player away.” (South-Side Sox fans.) Hockey fans are saying, “….” (I don’t know what hockey fans say, eh.)

Me? I’ve decided to pick up writing again, and here we have it. Hopefully something here made you smile. It may be a purely joyful smile. It may be a laughing smile. It may be a “Geez, Rob’s an idiot smile.” Or maybe you didn’t smile, in which case the terrorists have, indeed, already won.

But thank you. By reading this, you’re enabling me to cope, whether you like it or not.

Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah.

Sounds like a win to me.

Much luv,
Rob

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Song of the Day: “Anywhere” by Evanescence

And the Spartan Scale Says...

I've decided to keep track of the movies I rate on my Spartan Scale here...don't really know why, but here you have it. The Spartan Scale ranks, in number of Spartans, how good/bad a movie is in comparison to the movie "300," which I disliked very much. So a rating of 300 Spartans means the movie was equally bad as "300." Feel free to agree with me as you see fit. Understand that any disagreements that you might have are flawed and incorrect.

Movies (In alphabetical order)
300: 300 Spartans
Borat: 500 Spartans
Bio-Dome: 490 Spartans
Charlie Wilson's War: 22 Spartans
Fight Club: 8 Spartans
The Happening: 484 Spartans
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: 244 Spartans
Iron Man: 24 Spartans
Juno: 7 Spartans