Sir Gawain and the Green Blog

Under the Influence

2009-09-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

Apparently Attention Deficient Disorder(or
Attentiondeficientdisorder for short) runs in my veins. I’ve never been one to really believe in it just because it seems like so many people have it these days, (you know, like diabetes?) but Berkeley got her eczema-tatious hands on some medication for it and then she could read like three books at a time so I thought it might be beneficial to my own poor study habits. Turns out that’s a two sided coin, double edged sword and/or gold plated diaper. While it does seem to increase my overall RAM, thus allowing me to think faster and about more subjects, it also increases my overall RAM thus allowing me to think faster and about more subjects. Meaning I get my homework done, but I also have 19 other windows open all doing totally different things. But it not only allows me to accomplish many things on my computer, it also gives me a general imperviousness to reality. Meaning, I think I can do anything and that it would be really simple, a dangerous side effect. This to-do list euphoria only lasts a few hours, but in that time the craziest things come into my head as being totally possible. These include but are not limited to thinking I could:

-Do my homework up to an entire day early

-Work out

-Pick a major

-Talk to girls

-Parkour

-Go to extracurricular activities

-Call old or new friends

-Write thank you letters to lots of people

-Magnify my calling

-Wikipedia any and everything that springs to mind

-Start a dodge ball team

-Memorize Russian grammar charts

-Prepare a talk

-Construct a massive circular, spiral, load bearing web in my front yard

-Clean and perfectly organize my room

-Not eat only unhealthy things

-Dress nice

-power nap

-Shave every day

-Floss

-Set up that dental appointment I really need

-Make a résumé

-Conserve a large part of my pay check every week

-Train Basil

-Save for a car

-Save for a scooter

-Go work in Alaska this summer

-Draw well

-Write an exposé on BYU grounds crew

-Get regular sleep

-Make Halloween 2010 Captain America suit

-Write a blog

Pretty crazy, right? Alas, once the effect is exhausted, a general imperviousness to effectiveness sets in and I get very few productive things done, excluding powernaps which I have efficiently upgraded to Superpower naps. I could go for one of those right now…

Hypercube Bonus Features

2009-08-29T23:39:00.000-07:00

Mat6t asked me to write the introduction to their album “Bigger than Oprah” a few years back. So I did. It was days before I was to leave on my mission and I was supposed to be working on my talk, but I decided to do a friend a solid and slave away at this clap trap for the entirety of a flight from Washington DC to St. Salt Lake City. Long story short: I did it, they hated it, and they never used it. They decided to go with a more "published author", one who knew "how to use commas", who could "read above the fifth grade level", one who doesn’t "lack charisma", one who "lets their scabs heal", you know the type. I had forgotten about the incident but just barely accidentally found the document searching for something else in my Gmail archives and decided it was bloggable. And besides, blogs about Mat6t always sell better anyway. So here it is; the unseen rejected version of the introduction to the Hypercubes debut album:

The Hypercubes:

Dynamic Duo or Unholy Alliance ?

Hark to the tale of Marlsven and the boy he loved so dear…

The year was twenty-ought-five, gas prices were at an all time high of nine Bees a gallon, and if you were to ask a passerby on the street about the sounds of Blim-Blam they would have swiftly turned you over to the nearest narcotics officer. Alex Mildred Morrise and Mathew Lot Karlsven were both excelling in their studies at Provost High School for Gifted Youngsters. As the legend goes they were assigned as partners in an elective Drama class--that they had both tried to get into since their freshmen year--and the rest is history, history that I will now recite to you.

It was autumn and Alex had just gotten over a raging case of Avian Bird Influenza and Mathew, later shortened to Mat6t for health reasons not to be explained later in this introduction, was just starting his third session of oxygen-shock-therapy. It was the oxidized Mat6t who first proposed the idea of putting aside their political differences and forming a partnership. Alex was hesitant at first as he had a past as checkered as a Ska fans backpack when it came to musical groups, some good, such as Van Heperi, The Ring of Scribes, and Radical Millhouse, and some bad, including the Radical Millhouse Squared travesty, the Blain Train wreck, the Seminary Talent Show Blaspheme and the Bruce Call abomination. But Mat6t with his mind as sharp as a sword sharpened by lasers from the future was able to convince young Alexander using a Venn diagram illustrating the benefits of such an alliance. He was also aided by a time-traveling Abraham Lincoln who stressed the necessity of their bands formation as the only hope to save the past. Alex agreed under the condition that they use a drum machine instead of human beings to populate the rest of the band as it seemed only logical to him since he felt that the world would eventually be ruled by battled hardened cyborgs from outer space. While this did not seem as logical to Mat6t he consented, since Provo hadn’t seen a decent drummer since the great Eliza R. Snow.

Soon they were battling bands and fleeing the fuzz, as band battles had been outlawed since the massacre of Transient Rhetoric. Yes the fame and fortune of The Hypercubes had reached far and wide and with a debut album release date as elusive as old Marlsven himself, the Hypergroupies were growing restless.

But be at peace my fellow fans, for you now hold in your hands an official copy of The Hypercubes latest and greatest feat, it’s amazing, it’s spectacular, it’s non-refundable, it is what you have been waiting your entire life for, it’s… Bigger Than Oprah!

And may its scrumtralescent melodies bring you all the new pleasure and nostalgic euphoria that it has me.

Thank you kindly,

Dr. Wells R. Magleby T.A.S.-F.

Resident Hyperexpert

Mantles to Marlsven

2009-07-22T13:01:00.000-07:00

Here's a letter I wrote to Mat6t Karlsven:

Hey Elder M6arslven,

Your friendly neighborhood Rob here, I’m getting married! Yup, you heard right. The lucky girl is Emma Watson from Provo High, she’s just a grade younger than us, and she’s the best. Well she didn’t exactly go to Provo High proper, but Alex had a picture of her one day before school, actually an autographed picture. You see, I recently saw the newest Harry Potter film, and she plays the role of a girl named Hermione, and is extremely attractive, or as you missionaries say, “favored of the Lord”. So, with my returned missionary zeal and confidence I’ve decided I’d marry her. Nothing’s impossible for us returned missionaries right? Brigham Young said, “if you return from your missions with honor, you can have any fox to your liking”. (Though, I do believe there are stipulations in times of famine or winter) Ipso Facto, she’s mine.

In other news, you can call me ERP now. Eric himself has recently returned from two year service in a country between Texas and Antarctica and has determined that name is not for him, and as I’ve always been found wanting in the nickname department I thought I’d just skip the part of making one up and take up the mantle of “ERP” while there is a void. Heavy is the head the wears the crown of ERP. It’s a lot like Bucky taking up the Captain America mantle after Cap’s death. Although Captain America might be returning soon, no one stays “Bucky dead” these days, not even Bucky.

I believe you’ve been out less than a year, so I won’t bother explaining what’s changed from my perspective because there’s a fifty-fifty chance it wouldn’t be news to you. Well… there is something that’s a pretty big deal that I don’t know if it’s made it out to California by now: Michael Jackson is dead! Can you believe it? Now the only question is if he will stay “Bucky dead”. I believe the up and coming star Ricky Martin is slotted to fill in his mantle as “The King of Pop”.

Speaking of Pop, a common point of conflict in my mission was what to call carbonated beverages, Soda or Pop. So when any elder would try to make a point and ask me which one was correct, knowing I was from Utah and expecting a certain response, I’d always blindside him and say “Soda pop”. Take that Utah-haters who have nothing better to argue about. Well, keep doing Provo proud and remember: “The Church is true and the book is navy with gold letters in Times New Roman font in all caps.”

Pit thee Elder,

-Rob Magleby

Waiting for Tuberculosis

2009-07-16T14:57:00.000-07:00

I just joined Facebook. It hasn’t won me over yet. I’m still vey much in a blog mindset. I don’t understand why other people’s words are all over my page, and they’re not even talking about things I know/care about. Speaking of things you might not know or care about, I just got back from a two-year religious sabbatical. Upon my return I’ve found things surprisingly the same.With the exception of a few children now larger or hairier, it’s almost unnerving how little has changed. I mean, the Y is still on the mountain, you still have to drive 29 miles per hour between the roundabout and the bridge, and our backyard is dry and weedy. People tell me I myself haven’t changed, which is interesting.

My mom took me shopping. All the fancy stores were having sales so I ended up with a lot of gay-man clothes. It’s ok though, chicks dig that sort of stuff. Gay stuff. In the apparel department, topical, not actual, I will resume my quest to make a classy high-quality Captain America costume. As you may know I’ve got the shield, and recently acquired the boots, undoubtedly the two hardest specialty parts. Of course the whole suit will have to be specially made and if present trends continue I will have to make even more special adjustments just as this fan of Iron Man was forced to

We are not the ordinary

2007-06-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

By George it’s been a while, and by “a while,” I mean –whoa, now there’s a joke blast from the past, it really has been a while. “Blogger since October 2004”. 2004?! October?! Are you serious? I’m freaking old school. Mrs. Mathews, Reggae Ska and Sluffing, comment contests, those were the days. Take that MySpace. Back in those days MySpace was a self defense company and Facebook was um… something Hannibal used uh… I got nothing. Past-Blast again!

Do you know that I don’t even have a Facebook account? Me, Rob Cutting Edge-Blogger since 2004-Super Nintendo Magleby. I’m not even sure how they work, and I’d like to pretend that I didn’t feel a little pride in saying that but it’s true. But I take pride in all my ignorance, so what are you gonna do? Nothing that’s what.

You young whippersnappers out there with your friend invites and your relationship status, back in my day you had to judge a man by their response to a random question and their zodialogical sign. Why it took me six months to realize that Marlsven was a dude! I guess the point here is that I miss the good old days and they’re never coming back and that makes me sadder than I’d admit. I have some regrets, including constantly agonizing over the Spider-Man Batman debate in my head and never writing my magnum opus. Which I still plan to do by the way, don’t even get my started on how Spider-Man 3 complicates the mess, and with the Dark Knight coming out next summer, Heath Ledger as the Joker, and the new Bat-Suit, it’ll start all over again. Oh the agony! Man this is exhausting, I need a break. Maybe I’ll take a year off again. Maybe two.

iHeart iProvo

2006-02-14T21:48:00.000-08:00

I would just like to wish Taylor a happy birthday and inform everyone of some updates. One: purple is now the official Sir Gawain font color for sarcasm. Two: I have fast Internet for the first time in my life, and that will lead to impulsive and crappy posts like this one. Three: That blind girl from The Village will be playing Gwen Stacy in Spider-Man 3. Four: The farmer from Babe will be playing Gwen Stacy’s father. Five: I know how much you guys don’t care about Spider-Man. Six: That won’t stop me from updating you on all the big Spider-Man 3 news. Seven: I need a councilor for the communications merit badge before next Sunday. Eight: I am proud to say that I have finished my Eagle Project.

Not Posting: Hero or Menace?

2006-01-29T21:53:00.000-08:00

Ok, ok, ok, let me just apologize and clear this up. It was late. I was drunk. And it was delicious. Moving on:
I don't want to apologize for the lack of posts because that means I would have to, you know... apologize. Which as everything in my life, except for the beginning of this post and the following sentence testifies to, is something I never do. I'm sorry, but that's just the way I am. As you may, or more likely, may not know, I have been without the Internet at my home for quite some time and won't have it again until mid Febuary or February, as I recently found out it's pronounced. Sorry 'bout the Sandyman being on there so long. Future post are on the way. So hold off on slashing your wrists, 'cause Sir Gawain will ride again. Probably.

Well I'll be darned...

2005-11-11T23:54:00.000-08:00

I guess the rumors were true, ‘cause it’s official, Thomas Haden Church will be playing Flint Marko, aka: (The) Sandman in Spider-Man 3. I didn’t want to believe the rumors at first because I never found Sandman too interesting. But I must admit, to my everlasting shame I thought the same thing about Dr. Octopus when he was suggested for Spider-Man 2. But Sam the man Raimi turned this:

into this:

I’m betting he’ll do it again with this

Now, as you may or may not know, Topher Grace has been cast for the third Spider-installment as well, place your bets now as to who he will play. I’ve got my fingers crossed.

2005-10-22T14:48:00.000-07:00

It’s like evolution…. but backwards

2005-10-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

I got my last set of school pictures today. It’s been thirteen years in the making and now I can show you the devolution of Robbie Magleby.

Kindygarden

Looking good: bowl-cut, sweatshirt, turtle neck, all in style.

First Grade

I miss that vest. I used to wear it to Church with nothing under it. I don’t know why my parents let me.

Second Grade

Denim… nice. Though you can't see them, I had four silver teeth at this time. I don’t know why my parents let that happen either.

(Circa)Third Grade
(My parents wouldn't buy me school pictures this year)

This photo was taken on the last day of third grade while we were packing up to move to Utah. Coincidentally the reason I have no school pictures for this year is the same reason I used to wear a lampshade: poverty.

Fourth Grade

All three buttons buttoned. Straight as an arrow.
(Name shortened to "Rob" for efficiency purposes)

Fifth Grade

Is my left ear bigger than my right?

Sixth Grade

Sweet fancy Moses! It is bigger!

Seventh Grade

Awww… my first under shirt. Just so you know, that vest was not in style at the time. Nor was my left ear.

Eighth Grade

Looks like puberty didn’t solve my outer-ear imbalance.

Ninth Grade

Oh man, now I'm a rebel, only two buttons buttoned. This was taken just after I had parted with a dear friend. A mole. And while Paul Allred (my Middle School chum) resemble the clay-mation mole from Wind in the Willow, I was referring to the big one I used to have on my forehead.
(Named changed to "Wells" for experimental purposes )

Tenth Grade

Even with my head turned, my monstrous ear pokes through.
(Name changed back to "Rob" for responsive purposes )

Eleventh Grade

It looks like this photo went through some heavy air-brushing. It was an awkward time for me. An awkward time that I have destroyed all the photographic evidence to. Boo wha ha ha.

Twelfth Grade

I don’t think there is an air-brush big enough to handle this mess. But, you’ll notice that I have fully embraced my big ear problem now. Now I have other problems, a receding hair line, an advancing gut, and a dying heart.
I like to get as much mileage out of my heart as possible. Joke mileage, that is. You didn't think that I meant exercise mileage did you?

(Other possible titles for this post included : “Unnatural Selection” &
“Survival of the Zit-est”)

Car Accident? More like, Car On-purpose-cident!

2005-09-22T19:55:00.000-07:00

In case you haven’t heard my pal Alex and I were in a car… incident. If you would like to see his version of the story (I suggest you do) go check it out. But if you want the truth, stay right where you are. I just hope you can handle it.

I was sitting there at 7 a.m. ready and waiting for Alex to pick me up. He was late as usual. In fact, I had to call to remind him to pick me up.

Me: Alex, is it too much trouble if you could give me ride to school today?
Alex: Bite me you nastard!
Me: Please Alex, I want to learn!
(Alex hangs up.)

I assumed that his hang-up was a sign that he was coming, and he eventually did. It was raining pretty hard, and as usual, I had to knock on the window for him to let me in. I gave Alex a friendly greeting and he just held up a hand to block my words while he listened to the “climax” of You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban. I gave Alex his much cherished Grobey-time and by the time the song finished we were past the roundabout.

(Alex clicks off the radio)
Alex: So, I see you’ve gained weight.
Me: Only a little, could we get off that subject?
(Alex gives a hearty laugh)
Alex: If everyone in the world were as tall, slender, and intelligent as me, the world be a whole lot better.
Me: Whatever you say Alex.
Alex: So Tubby, did I tell you that I’ve already been asked to Morp three times this year?
Me: yeah, you mentioned it.
Alex: Oh, I forgot, you weren’t asked to Morp last year were you Chunky?
(He takes both hands off the wheel to poke me in the gut.)
Me: Alex that’s enough, you need to keep your eyes on the road.
Alex: No I don’t, I got a 100% on my driving test, I can do what ever I want!
(He swerves violently into the next lane, and then back again.)
Alex: In fact I think I’ll hit that dumb cat over there.
(He swerves for the cat.)
Me: Alex NO! A cat is a living animal!
(I grab the wheel just in time to avoid the cat.)
Alex: What did you do that for, you Piss Kopf!?
Me: Let’s just try to get to school in one piece. Ok?
Alex: Oh yeah? Watch this!

Alex then hits the gas to slam into the car in front of us causing it to swerve, hit the curb, and flip over. Then Alex slams on the brakes and flips into reverse and repeatedly slams into the overturned car five times, laughing all the while.

Alex: Ah HA HA HA Ah! I won PHS Idol when I was a Sophomore! Ah ha ha ha ha!

Then Alex swerves back out into traffic and this sweet boy from his ward expertly dodges him. Alex, still in a rage, veers around and drives straight for the young lad and pulls the emergency brake at the last second so the car does a 180 and slams into the kid's car backwards. Our airbags deploy and Alex faints.
The car starts to fill with smoke and I throw Alex over one shoulder and carry him out of the now noxious car. Alex then comes to, lets off some profanities and heads back to his car. He throws open the back door and grabs his red aluminum baseball bat that he keeps in there for the fights he’s always picking with freshmen. Alex then starts swinging wildly at his trunk to worsen the damage for when the police arrive, in hope to gain more fraudulent money from the kid's insurance. Next he walks over to the now smoldering overturned car and takes a cell phone out of the carbonized corpse’s hand.

Police: 911 emergency.
Alex: Yeah, what do you want?
Police: You called us sir.
Alex: Oh yeah? Prove it!

Alex then hurls the phone to the ground and smashes it with his foot. I guess he didn’t completely destroy the phone because there must have been enough left to leave a signal for the police to trace and arrive on the scene.

But before the police got there Alex threatened the driver from the other car with his baseball bat while hoisting the dead man's charred leg above his head. (The leg had a bite taken out of it by Alex.) The police forms were all filled out to Alex’s wishes. And that’s the story of how Alex got his new red car named Mary Jane. (I’ll put the link to Alex’s post here one more time. I figure after reading this, you’ll want to read the real story.)

Well, my neck that I DIDN’T tell the paramedic about is starting to hurt, I’d better go, I got some stuff I gotta do.

"Give Me a(some) Name(s)!"

2005-09-14T00:30:00.000-07:00

The Magleby’s have always had a reputation for having pets (and a putrid, stinking home). Until recently these pets included: one (morbidly) obese dog, one reclusive, yet very vocal cat, and two awful, awful ferrets. Two new mammals have joined the family, a light brown rat accompanied by a black hooded one. A long, long time ago, a rat named Mousey was given to us by a family who was moving to Utah and couldn’t take her with them. We loved this rat and found that when she died, we were so heart broken that we couldn’t even attend School that day. (We tried to grieve for two days, but it was hard to keep the crying up) So, with a void needing to be filled we bought a new rat for each kid, (four total) and when they died we bought a replacement for each. Mine never died though, it actually lived through three other generations of my siblings' rats. Her name was Squink and she lived over seven years, and mothered over seven dozen pups, whom we gave to the pet store in exchange for a fancy metal lined water bottle, under the condition that none of them could be sold for reptile food.lousyNathanBirdSquink finally died right before we had to move to Utah ourselves. Leaving only Patty, who had already watch her partner Selma die. If you ever get the chance to hear my dad tell the story of sneaking Patty through the metal detectors at the air port I suggest you take it, it’s a goodie.
We’ve had a gap in the rat chain lately due to the recent awful, awful ferret trend, but the rats are back. I got them today and they have a cool double towered Victorian cage thingy. I plan to feed them only bonafide rat food, you know, those vitamin enriched brown pellets that rats are always eating in the wild.
Anywho, now comes the hard part: Names. I wanted to name them Biffer and Boffer before I bought them, but I go through that phase before I buy all my rats. When I got them, it became clear that those names wouldn’t work. One is a skinnier nervous white rat, the other is a bigger active brown one. So of course I could name them Alex and Luke respectively, but that would be weird. So I thought to give them names that referenced both Alex and Luke… hmmm… lanky & large no, Pastey and PolyNoggin, no. Ah Ha, Ringo and Rivers! Nah, If I named one Ringo I’m sure Alex would spout of some fact about how Ringo was nothing like the rat and how I know nothing about music, the usual. So I was back to square one, but I did like the Idea of naming them in pairs, we’ve done this twice before with Patty & Selma, and Itchy & Scratchy, and think it could work again.
But then do I have to only use famous pairs names like Starsky and Hutch or Calvin and Hobbes? Or can I just use names that compliment each other? They should both be girl rats, do they have to have girl names? I just don’t know. So I’ll pass the responsibility on to you, my faithful bloggies, you must name my rats. Now don’t be like Bastian who waited until the last minute.
And yes, I will slowly turn into one of those old ladies who talks about her cats(rats in my case) all the time and who throws them at people, cause if one of them is a guy, I should soon have plenty of little Rats to spare. DAW HEE HAW!

All good things must come to an anticlimactic end.

2005-08-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

The trip is over. I guess I knew it was coming; there were several omens--the first being Mrs. Shepard. For those of you who don’t know her, well, neither do I, so… for those of you who don’t know of her, she lives across from us here at Palace Court. BYU bought the building thinking she would die soon so they could turn her flat into more housing for Study Abroad directors. This was something like thirty years ago and my dad has a theory that she’s some kind of Dread Pirate Roberts who gets a replacement to pass the child-hating-torch to every decade or so. She is a chain smoker and, from my estimates,not a day over 200. I’ve always wondered how she came to live in this building and, after watching Kenneth Branagh’s movie of Shackleton the Antarctic explorer, I’ve come to my conclusion. I’m told one of BYU’s most recent magazines did a special on the London Centre. The article explains the long history of the building. It has been many things, one of which was a home to Ernest Shackleton. In the movie it showed how Ernie wasn’t exactly loyal to his wife. And then it dawned on me, Mrs. Shepard is just Shackleton’s last surviving hussy living off his penguin animation rights. Mystery solved.
The reason I called her an omen is because until yesterday I had only seen her once, and this was in the first week of the trip. Yesterday afternoon I saw her taking a breather/weezer on the first floor landing. The fist time I saw her I just raised my eyebrows as a sign of recognition, as is my standard greeting. But this time with my new respect for the Antarctic Queen I gave her a friendly American, Howdy. No response.
Another sign that the trip is over is that the students are all gone, which is sad, but I’ve tried to make the most of it. And by the most of it, I mean, I’ve run up and down the stairs real fast once and did my laundry at a reasonable hour. This was of course after I rifled through all the stuff they left behind in the dumpster. Can you believe that Olivia threw away a perfectly good toothbrush? And just so everyone knows, I got all of your souvenirs from said dumpster, so get excited.
And now with all of my souvenirs properly concealed in my bag from any type of Customs inspections, I’m ready to come home. The London Centre has been good to me and I'll miss it dearly. And for those of you who found my blog severely lacking in any news of my trip, I’ll be glad to bring up stories as often as possible. And to make it even more annoying, I'll just say, “and when I was on my mission…” before each anecdote.
Look out Provo, I’m coming home. Mmmm, I can already smell the Ferrets…

My Infinity War

2005-08-04T05:14:00.000-07:00

On one of the first days here in London, a student came up to me and asked if I had seen the television show Arrested Development. I told her that I had, and she told me that I looked just like George Michael, one of its main characters. I choose to take this as a compliment, (Whether it was implied as one is still a mystery.) She then called her friend over and she (a fellow student) agreed that I looked like the character. Berkeley has made jokes based on my similarities with George Michael ever since we started watching the series, heck, even Falcor mentioned it. I was starting to believe.
Word started spreading of the program director’s son, who, looked just like George Michael, and soon I gained the nick name “George Michaels” (note the S) I have to admit that I was happy to have my first non-self-appointed nickname, seeing as Pepto only caught on with one freshman, whom I backhanded every time he didn’t call me by it, and no one got my George Costanza-esque hints on calling me Shotgun:
“Come on guys. Get it? Shotgun. You know how I always call it? The front seat? Get it? It’s funny!”
Anywho… The George Michael thing hit its peak, or low point, depending on whether it’s a compliment or not, (which I remind you, I find it to be) when the girls started taking pictures with me (see below) when I was dressed in different outfits to have a George Michael montage of sorts. And as much as I do love a good montage, I found it to be getting out of hand, did I really look like George Michael? And since I didn’t have any episodes available, I went onto the internet to find pictures of the Actor, whose real name is Michael Cera by the way. So I’ve gathered them here for you, so you can decide for your self. On the left we have pictures of me, and on the right we have pictures of my thought-to-be Doppelganger. And I have to admit, the evidence is startling.

This is one of those mockery/montage pictures, I think I'm gonna start charging money now. I’ve protected the Identity of MEREDITH JONES of NEW COAST TEXAS, in case she doesn’t want herself on the internet. And just so you know readers, Ms. X up there makes fun of my blog. Well who’s laughing now?!

I have to admit that I don't see a resemblance in this one, but that could just be the hair.

This picture was taken recently, as you can tell from my sideburns.

If nothing else, we definitely have similar body types.

Well we may never find out whether or not I look like George Michael, but there is one thing we did find out: putting fake pictures of yourself on a blog as a joke gets old fast…. Oh well,
ONE MORE TIME!

Rob's gone mad with photo power!

2005-07-11T06:20:00.000-07:00

It’s true, I have gone mad. Ever since Blogspot introduced its new photo hosting program, I just want to keep posting photos. I guess it was better before, when it was hard to post pictures, and by “hard” I mean, it took more than 1 step. That way, the effort it took to post them would at least hinder me from posting really stupid photos that no one cares about but me, but now there is nothing stop me from subjecting you to my archives. Boo wah ha aah!
I figured I would get all of my photo cravings out of my system by just posting anything and everything. So bear with me because most of these photos are of things you people in Provo take for granted, I however, am cut off from the world, so finding these pictures was a treat for me.
I was scanning through my old emails, in a pathetic attempt to find something of interest because no one had emailed me for a while, and I found this one from Alex containing all of the pictures we were going to use for the Provo High homepage. A lot of them aren’t funny in themselves, I only find them humorous because we were actually going to use them on the Homepage, ah, and what a homepage it would have been, pictures of Jose sleeping in Geometry, Paul handling a football… well, it would have been at least better than the homepage we have now, that one sucks! Alex and I did make one improvement to the site though, that was the student page, check it out, isn’t that the greatest web you’ve ever seen? And when I say that Alex and I did it, I mean Alex did it, I just drew the web, he did everything else that actually took skill.

To start off, we have Warner and Brent sitting in seminary. I wanted to have people in seminary on the front page; I thought a violation of Church and State would be the perfect thing for the PHS web site. The funny thing about these pictures is that they are totally staged, how they’re using their pencils to look like they’re reading, those two never read like that. Ok lets move on. Here we have a bathroom door with testing signs placed on it by Komilay, (Sorry, I don’t know how to spell it.) Good times, good times.And look, there is Jose, trying to find solace in 45 45 90 triangles, just after finding out that his girlfriend is pregnant.
This photo just makes me laugh every time I see it. I mean, just look at it!
“Hey man, you look like you’ve lost weight.”
“You noticed?”
Cordero Reed: words fail me.
This picture shows the dutiful Provo High trackers. Well, it shows one of them anyway, and the hair of the other. The picture doesn’t show it but, that tracker in the red, tucks his T shirts into his dress pants that are too short, and reveal his white socks that are inside his white tennis shoes. In case none of you knew that. (it seemed like something Sista Falcor would be interested in)
Adam: What is that thing you are pointing at me? I must break it!

Does anyone else think that Amanda looks like an anime character in this picture? I’m just asking.
And here we have a picture of Mat6t smoking a pizza like a joint.
You have to click on this picture to see the writing on the note that Mat6t is holding up, he had passed it to me earlier in English, when he wasn’t supposed to be in the class. I think this picture, given a few lens flares in Photoshop, could be the CD cover for the first album of, Tenacious Kamalay and the Trevor Richardson experience, featuring Zoram. (Not pictured Zoram) And here we have a baby faced Kody, biting his nails over his feelings for Mrs. Gordon-Smith.
Danny Ramone Herrera: The coolest person in school.
This picture made it to the draft form of the homepage under the title of “Friendship” it was supposed to be secretly ironic. Why does Adam always have that Ninja Turtle smirk on his face?

This is the first of the Danny peeing on stuff collection. Enjoy.

I like that he's smiling in this one.

This picture of Mat6t should be used as his profile shot. It says so much about him.
To understand Danny’s laughter, click on this one to see the print on the paper.
I guess Paul hasn’t read the notice. Ah Paul, I hear he’s on to machine gun practice now.

This one is unrelated to the others but, I had to show it to you.
I was scrolling through my mom's pictures to delete any ones that I didn't want her to post on her blog, and I came across this one. I was planning to delete it just because I looked awful and was wearing my backpack on my front, which I assure you, I was only doing because I was sitting down, and because, my ever-growing double chin was prominently displayed. But, then I noticed my armpits, and I thought, ha... that’s kinda embarrassingly funny, I'll have to save this one. But then, as my eyes wandered around the real-life caricature of myself, I noticed the unimaginable, CROTCH SWEAT! How could this of happened, I mean, everybody gets it right? But when is it ever caught on film, men go to desperate measures to keep this from happening. Granted we had just walked like four miles in Mediterranean heat, and these pants were of a fabric that darkens quite noticeably with moisture, but still, Crotch sweat, me, in a picture? My plan of action was obvious. So I quickly e-mailed the picture to my self, drew the arrows in Photoshop and with Blogspot’s new photo posting options, it was on my blog in no time. Be sure to view it in full size mode, so when you make it your desktop background, it isn’t blurry.

Rob's European Haircut

2005-07-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

Laugh it up fuzzballs.
If you couldn't tell, I’ve gotten myself a haircut. No, I didn’t do it myself, I have always wondered what I would look like if I didn’t shave my sideburns. As you can see, I look like a crazy. That’s right, a crazy. I just thought there should be some photographic(not photogenic) evidence of this catastrophe, cause once everyone at the center has had a good laugh, say goodbye to the burns, cause I’m shaving them off. Don’t try to persuade me to keep them, because the picture doesn’t quite show how awful they really look. If you could see them, you’d want me to get rid of them too.
It’s just non-stop action here in London.

The reports of my demise have been greatly disappointing.

2005-07-08T11:25:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I was under the impression that everyone back home would assume I was dead. That’s what I would have done. But apparently word got out that I was fine, (which I am), and it’s a shame too because I was planning to use my “death” to my advantage as much as I could. It would have been fun; alas our family has too many good-hearted friends that were willing to call around and inform the folks back home that every thing is/was ok.
I know your all dying to find out what I have to say on the Spider-Man vs. Batman issue, (yeah right) and I won't disappoint you—and by “won't disappoint you” I mean “will disappoint you” because I have written a really, really, really long blog about it, and its boring and tedious and I’m sure I’ll regret posting it, because whatever people may say on the topic, with a few exceptions, no one really cares, they just find it intersecting for a while, and my post will be redundant because everyone has already forgotten about the issue and moved on with their lives. I however, do not have this luxury, and its driving me, and everyone I’ve pestered about it, crazy. So once I’ve perfected it, and by perfected I mean, deleted all of the bizarre Mary Jane allegories, I’ll post it, and I’m telling you now, don’t read it, it will make you angry and bitter towards me for subjecting you to it.
Oh, and please tell me if you thought I was dead, ‘cause that will make my day.

Happy Birthday K.A.S.M.

2005-06-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

Your present is hidden somewhere in my luggage. Happy Birthday.

I can't be silent cause they might be giants

2005-06-01T03:12:00.000-07:00

Yes that’s right; it took the combined power of Triangle-Man, Universe-Man and Person-Man, but my unintentional blog silence has ended.
I assure you it was unintentional to not write any new blogs, I fully intended to blog all the time when I got here, but for whatever reason, (It probably has something to do with the lax drug laws of London.) I haven’t written a real blog and it has officially been a month since I left, so to quote that lumpy mass of glitter-denim and mash potatoe filled panty hose that is Ms Snyder… lets get it on, quickly.
I guess this is the first time ever I’ve written a real blog. The few blogs I have written consisted mostly of old stories/sentence fragments, never any up-to-date news. This is the first time something happened to me and I decided, “hey, I’m gonna blog about this”. Sadly it isn’t technically “up to date” because it happened a couple a days ago. But hey, cut me some slack, this is my first time.
In case you didn’t notice the rather obvious They Might Be Giants references at the beginning of this post, the topic is They Might Be Giants. I actually went to their concert here in London and it was so great that it, as stated earlier, ended my unintentional blog silence.
You can imagine my delight when I found out that They, (pun slightly unintended) were playing here and it would only cost £16.00, as apposed to the upcoming Weezer concert which will be over twice that amount. So I took the Tube over to Bond Street and bought myself a ticket. It was all set and I was ready for the musical prescriptions of Dr. Worm and company.
We; Berkeley, Andy, David,(art history student who found the concert) and I, got to the venue about forty five minutes early thinking that we wouldn’t be early enough to get a good seat, but luckily They Might Be Giants fans are as punctual as they are socially acceptable. In fact there were so few people at fist that I felt bad for the band and wanted them not to feel bad that they didn’t have much of a British following, luckily plenty of people eventually showed up so I had nothing to worry about.
In fact a lot of people showed up and they somehow shifted me out of my front row spot to about third row and let me tell you: I cant think of any place on earth that had a more diverse crowd. There were preteens, neo-Nazi’s, punks, skinheads, dorks, nerds losers, squares, hermaphrodites, gays, straights, right angles, and of course me. I was actually standing next to a nicely dressed man who had to be at least in his early sixties, and seeing him on the street, never would have pegged him to go to a They Might Be Giants fan, so I assumed he was there keeping a close watch on his young grandchild or somthing, but I didn’t see any child nearby him so I was just baffled by his presence all together. But to my utter shame and embarrassment, when the band got up and the music started, he watched longingly, muttering every single word to every single song, to himself as he gently shifted from side to side rocking with the music, making me question my own loyalties to a band who could appeal to this gentleman and me. But my loyalties only wavered for a second, once I stopped looking at this sad, sad man, I was in, I was all in.
The first band really, really stunk, but it only made my first experience with the Giants all the more amazing. I was sitting there after the crappy band had finished thinking: oh well, I guess concerts aren’t all that fun, I mean how great they could be live as apposed to on iTunes, the last band sucked and that’s as good as it gets right? Wrong. They started suddenly and I wasn’t sure who was who in the band, there was a slightly chubby man in front with a guitar, another on each side, each with either a bass or guitar, a drummer in the back and finally a skinny man on a decked out keyboard who looked like a cross between Mat6t and Martin Short. The Music began and I thought: oh well, they didn’t start off with a song I knew but I’ll like it any way. But as the song continued my brain started to pick up a familiar tune and before I knew it, I was rocking out to the coolest, live, supped up, version of Istanbul Not Constantinople my ear hairs had ever laid eyes upon. It was bliss and so was every other moment of the show. They knew to start with a beloved fan favorite and then to wow the crowd again with the new hit Experimental Film then finally starting off the show with greetings and introductions.
The chubby fellow turned out to be quite the showman and a big crowd pleaser; this was also true of the odd-looking keyboard player. These two were the original members and the only ones you ever hear singing on the albums (John Linnell (accordion, keyboards, woodwinds) and John Flansburgh (guitar,). The other members of the show weren’t as loveable and one actually flipped off the crowed after an empty, plastic beer cup had been thrown at him. This turned out to be a recurring problem throughout the show and was addressed by the lead singer several different times but whatever drunk was throwing them, kept emptying new ones and hucking them on stage as well. This led to the band just directly making fun of the drunkard and dedicating one of their songs to him with the intro mocking the man for having a drinking problem. In fact it seemed like a good portion of the back wasn’t that pure in their love of They Might Be Giants, but the front of the audience more than made up for them.
Despite the soused Londoners, the show continued to be spectacular with classics like Dr. Worm, Birdhouse in Your Soul, and the Alphabet of Nations. The show finished with a stirring personalized third encore thanking fans by describing them in the song and making it up as they went.
And when it was all over, I just stood there in a puddle of beer, a better man, thinking: Man, they in fact, might be giants.

2005-05-24T13:43:00.000-07:00

Look at me I have a red shirt!

It’s Luke & Mat6t’s Birthday I Can Blog If I Want To.

2005-05-16T01:57:00.000-07:00

And I do.

Not a Real Blog

2005-04-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

This blog is for the sole purpose of making it so that on my Archives list it shows a post for the month of April; I did the same thing for March. Why? Cause that’s just the kinda guy I am. And with any luck, no one will ever notice my little additions. As for you, don’t tell anyone, please.

Also Not a Real Blog

2005-03-15T11:40:00.000-08:00

Same situation.

It's My Birthday I Can Blog if I Want To

2005-02-19T07:28:00.000-08:00

And I don't.

I love Radical Milhouse

2005-01-17T15:14:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone, go to this show! Har har har.

Returning Robbie

2004-12-13T21:44:00.000-08:00

Just as Caesar returned to Rome, as Alexander returned to Greece, as Leonardo retuned to Vinci, I now return to you, my faithful bloggies.

You’d think that since this is my big comeback special I would have something special to say or some great story to tell, but alas, I have nothing to offer you but this, a humble blog consisting of policy updates, explanations, and excuses.

Reason #1 I didn’t update my blog: I’m just a lazy person, but in my defense, I did address this foreseen problem in my now vintage post (and by “vintage” I mean, um.. uh… I got nothing): “This is for the ages” when I said “…and like so many things in my life, it will be crappy and short-lived,” Thusly, as is often the case, I take no responsibility… for the lack of blogs, I mean. Heck, I only started a blog so I could post comments on Sista Falcor’s blog about keeping my fine name off the internet.

#2: I just wouldn’t feel right subjecting other people to the daily web of lies, deceit, and betrayal that is my life. So from now on you can expect a weekly subjection to the web of the afore mentioned tragedies.

#3: I couldn’t think of a clever pun or reference for the title of a new post, and by the time I did, I didn’t care about the subject I would have written about in the first place. I mean, “Teriyaki Sux.” What could top that? (By the way, the title of this blog is a reference to the movie: Finding Forester. So if you can think of a better title with alliteration, and five syllables , and referencing the fact that I have started writing again, I’m all ears.)

As for the updates, I should blog at least weekly and I’ll try to have Alex edit them before I post them, but since this blog is already posted and my spellchecker is on the fritz, you’d better get cracking Alex.

[Note from the editor: I only had to change a few things in this one, which is surprising. Rob deserves Kudos for this--and by Kudos I mean at least five comments on this blog.]

2004-11-08T17:11:00.000-08:00

Look at me I have a green shirt!

Teriyaki Stix, more like Teriyaki Sux

2004-11-01T19:38:00.000-08:00

As I drive to school everyday, I pass the Hogi Yogi complex known as “The Corner." While I gaze at it, turning into the parking lot, I couldn't hold back the nostalgia even if I wanted to (and by "nostalgia," I mean "bitter hatred").
Many a year ago--one, I suppose--I held a position there (and by position I mean I made less than the 14-year-old and a little more than the illegal Armenian kid who didn’t speak English). His name was Arty--well, at least I called him that. I was told when I interviewed for the job that I would start at seven dollars an hour and get a 25 cent raise monthly. I did the math and figured I could make 200 dollars a week. My first paycheck, which covered three weeks of work, was written for $21.84. When I asked my manager what the dilio was, he claimed they took out my uniform expenses, medical insurance, training fees, income tax, puffy pants tax, et cetera. When I told him I didn’t wear puffy pants, he said that the tax was for not wearing puffy pants.
I was only 15 at the time so, legally, I wasn’t allowed to perform certain activities or use certain equipment (and by "activities" I mean "work after sundown," and by "equipment" I mean "ladders"). Naturally I was a pain to work with because my manager would ask me to do something and I would have to say, “Legally or illegally?” every time.
I did make one productive change to the system at ol’ Teriyaki Stix. I called it the Magleby Flop. The name never really caught on. You see, in order to make signature sandwiches we had to toast the sliced facatia bread on a conveyer belt. Before the Magleby Flop was invented, one had to put the first slice on, then wait for it to move and clear space for the next piece. This could take up to 8 whole seconds. Well, I changed all that. By simply putting the second piece on top of the first and leaning it against the front of the toaster, the toast would easily fall into place once the first one had made it far enough into the toaster. This trick got around fast, and soon everyone was doing it--and as is often is the case, people were trying to take credit for my brilliant strategy. I slyly went to Rick, the owner of the whole company (I called him Mr. Yogi--he hated that), and made sure he knew I was the one who thought up the new bread loading technique. He responded with, “You’re not allowed to use the toaster!” Angrily, I retorted with, “It doesn’t matter, the technique was to save time, and its not like the two customers we have daily will notice the extra 8 seconds it takes to get their greasy, partially cooked crud.” And by "retorted," I mean "muttered under my breath".
Well, long story short, my last time at “The Corner,” when I went in to check my work schedule, I wasn’t on the chart. When I inquired about my lack of scheduling, I was told they would call me if they needed me. I spinelessly replied, “Sounds great.” I haven’t had a shift since. One of these days I'll go back there and quit officially and dramatically, and they’ll be like, “Who is that guy peeing in the curry?"

The Master of Procrastination raids again

2004-10-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

Sometime around the middle of last week I was given an essay to write. I was given two class periods and a weekend to work on it. It was due today, but I didn't do it for some very good reasons.

First off, you might say that I had no excuse not to do it in class, but I beg to differ (well...I don't beg, but I differ none the less). I hate being given time to work in class. "Time" just means Mrs. Snyder has a hangover and the sunlight of the classroom is too much for her, so she has to hide in her cave where she drinks even harder liquors to calm her current ailment caused by the previous lesser liquors.

So, she asks the class if we would like to be "given time" to work in class. The class drones, "Yes," in unison, not bothering to think of the consequences of their actions. So I pretty much just sit there the entire period, drawing webs and Swasticas on my recently returned quiz. I can't work in class, I have better things to do like uh...drawing webs and Swasticas.

The next day, the hangover appears to be in check, so I didn't think she'd give us any more "Mrs. Snyder quiet time" but I was wrong. The reason she didn't teach this time must have been that she was too busy doing something like helping nonexsistent pregnant teenagers and making out with WordPerfect.

But enough about interracial teacher student relationships. The point is, I didn't do my assignment for obvious reasons, and tonight is the last night I can do it for full credit, and I am writting this blog instead.

"This is for the ages"

2004-10-22T16:33:00.000-07:00

Well, just when I thought I couldn't sink any lower than turning a girl down who asked me to a dance in order to see Macbeth, I go and start a blog.

That's right: I was asked by a girl, to a girls' choice dance--me, Rob Pitstains Magleby, and I turned her down to see three middle-aged women run around cackling and speaking in iambic pentameter. I know I say this so often it has lost all meaning, but I have reached a new low. I mean, can anything be gayer than not spending time with the opposite sex in order to see Shakespeare? I think not.

My sexual orrientation aside, I have started a blog, and like so many things in my life, it will be crappy and short-lived, so enjoy it while it lasts, people.