Painting a landscape

So I mowed the lawn for the first time this year. And may I say: It was excellent. I really like mowing the lawn. Not only does it allow you to get out and enjoy nature and such, but it also allows you to get out and destroy it a bit too. I’m also getting pretty good at small engine repair. But cutting grass is a bit more than that. It’s a little like an art. An art where you burn gas. Like that guy I saw on Daily Planet who paints with jet engines. Nevermind. On second thought, that might not be art – or maybe art for suckers - but he is burning gas.
Anways, back to the lawn. It’s like a game of snake, except you can mow over your tail, and when you’re done the lawn, it looks pretty and you have an excellent sense of accomplishment, and a sunburn. Awesome.

Super sunburn

I am all about being sunburnt... Today I painted a wheelbarrow. Green if you must know.

Rob studies for accounting

House of pain

My face has been having a bad week. And it’s not good face pain, like when I get knocked around playing hockey. Instead I look like I was trying to lick the egg beater while it was still plugged in. It all started with the zit from hell. The zit wasn’t so bad at first, but I popped it and then it’s right by my fat mouth. Since I can never leave well enough alone, my hands are always going here and there, and it won’t heal properly. It’s Kinda like when you bite the side of your tongue and then it’s a little bit swollen and you can’t stop biting it. Fwig! And then this morning I cut my lip and then my chin shaving. That tells me I need to get a new blade, but it has also left me with an unsightly dark scab on my upper lip. And because I lead a some-sort of bachelor life, my eating habits are based upon necessity (in other words: I eat like a pig at home) and that scab keeps getting bombarded with food and opening up. In the wise words of Shikamaru Nara: “what a drag.” Apart from that, I’m always banging my forehead on something, but I’m used to that. It comes with being too tall.
Now, If only I could get some of that good face pain.

Contributory Negligence

I have four finals this week. Two down. I'm not too worried though.

Dish cloths and Scotch-Brite pads

Has anyone else seen the new Canadian Tire commercial, where the lady holds her breath, and runs into the kitchen to wash some dishes because her sponge thing smells too bad to continue. Then it's a commercial for some new odour fighting soap/sponge handle. Really!?!? [you now have to imagine i'm saying it like Seth or Amy on SNL]... Really?!?! Don't waste your money on chump devices like that. All you have to do is rinse your dish cloth and Scotch-Brite pad when you finish the dishes, squeeze them out and hang them to dry. You now have merely to wash the cloth in the laundry once in a while, and replace the pad when it disintegrates. If you have a bottle brush, rinse and shake. Stinkiness will be a thing of the past in your sink, unless you leave dirty plates too long in there. But who could resist washing the dishes for any real length of time.

Ruminations on Speed

Nah, i'm not trippin' balls, but I have been thinking about the movie again. Jack Traven is our hero, protagonist, main guy, A1#1. And he wears the most practical vest ever. Then we have Howard Payne, antagonist, jerk extraordinaire. But really Payne is Jack, only 30 years later. He's the bad guy, so they say he's 'evil', a 'madman'. But really, disillusionment is the real bad guy. Jack just got older, a wild-man, taking risks for a job he once believed in, but one year he wakes up and he's 65. Something's missing. He's never been able to commit to anything in his life but his job and the thrill is gone, he's pushing paper, and then they tell him to go home. A gold watch. A tiny pension. If only there was some way to get that thrill back, and get rich too. Well...Admittedly, things blowing up is cool.

To oblivion, and beyond!!!!

Well, I like riding the bus, but only leisurely bus riding. If you have to get somewhere, it's quite slow, and in Peterborough, not so reliable. I often take it to go to the library. Time is not pressing, so I can spend the time turning my music way loud and looking at stuff as it goes by. I suppose I could do that even if time was pressing. Anyways, angsty rock music is my favourite.

It also gives me the opportunity to hone my non-eye contact skills. I can bring anti-social to a new level on the bus.

The other excellent thing about transit systems in general is the colour coded route lines. Theres something to be said for those solid block lines weaving about among a bunch of bold sans serif local names.

Gundam Suit

http://watch.discoverychannel.ca/daily-planet/march-2008/daily-planet-march-25-2008/#clip40856

This guy in Alaska is awesome. He built a Gundam suit. It's not quite Nirvash, but sooner or later.

Standing like cartoon characters

Here's a picture of me standing like Uzumaki Naruto. I've been practicing. It's harder than you think to stand with your arms behind your head and a stupid expression on your face. I've also got to remember to put on my deodorant, that's for sure.
But why really?
It's pointless to exemplify real humans in any way because they're generally flawed and uninspiring when you really get down to it (Excepting perhaps Jesus, and maybe Socrates). Fictional creations to the contrary are whatever their authors made them to be. Don't worry, I haven't given up on humanity just yet. If everything and everybody were straightforward, there'd be nothing to blog about.

Judge lest ye not be judged

One of my favourite things to do while I'm walking to school is trying to imagine who a particular shoe print might belong to. Sometimes the snow is just right, and it leaves perfect footprints. There are some pretty excellent shoe and boot bottoms out there. It follows that there should be some pretty excellent people too. It's not totally guess work either, though that would probably be fun too. I pass lots of people on my walks, so I can see what their shoes look like and what prints match that person. You can often determine their gait, weight, means, gender and age just by looking at them. My assumptions about their tastes in music, or whether they have self-esteem issues are purely my own imagination though. I might ask truth of the people I see, but that would require asking the people I see.

I wear my sunglasses at night

Ok, lately the sun is getting more brilliant. This is bound to happen in the spring time, but I'm suddenly noticing that I'm talking with people wearing sunglasses more and more frequently. It's hard to look at them. Am I making any eye contact? or too much? I'm already awkward enough when it comes to social etiquette, and this just makes it harder.
And then, when I'm walking down the street or the hall I also wonder: are these people in their cheap sunglasses looking at me? They might be, I can't see their eyes. "Stop looking at me! I'm going crazy!" I yell at them. That way I know they're looking at me, and I feel better.

Why are you puching yourself? Quit punching yourself.

I got in a fight. I guess it's my fault. I drop kicked... er correction, flying kicked a snowman. He didn't seem to like that. He also didn't seem to like it when I tried to hoist his icy torso above my head, because my hoisting arm smashed into my face when the piece it was gripping broke off. I suppose it serves me right. I mean what would anyone hoist big icy pieces of snow off the ground for? Pictures like this i guess.

Fantastic number rob

Rob, Rob, Rob,
Fantastic number Rob,
Times any number you can fiiiind,
It all comes back to Rob

(spoken)
Four times Rob is thirty Rob,
Three and Rob are Rob!

The battery ran out on my mp3 player today so I sang this about a thousand times in my head, varying the spoken part every time. I also put my name in lots of other songs too. Ego? Poor memory for words? Could be, but it's mostly just bad habit. Or maybe good habit. It can be hilarious sometimes. If hilarity can be self proclaimed that is.

Rascally rabbit

Today on my way to school I walked past a rabbit. It was maybe only four or five feet away from me. It looked at me and then went about its business as though I wasn't there. I was like, 'man I must be like some Shaman, communing with nature, a oneness of man and beast.' But that couldn't be it. So I made a little jump at it, and it seemed to scamper off somewhat half-heartedly. Then I thought, 'maybe it's like a return to an untamed wild. Where generations of rabbits taking domain in the unlikely urban landscape - never hunted, never threatened by humans - have reverted to an innocent state, the fear of humankind gone.' Then I thought, 'that's silly. I wonder what rabbit tastes like.'

A lego man for my snowman to play with

Ahh, that's better. Thanks Zand.

Punk Rock Snow Man

Where am I going to find a giant Lego man?

Why don't you write me, a postcard would brighten my lonliest evening

Check out this postcard from a coupla years ago that I guess I never got around to sending. I must have been feeling awesome to make such a bold statement.

The zen art of walking in snowstorms

If it wasn't for the winter of 1938-39, this one would have set some records for snowfalls. Curse those pre-war winters. A blight on history's eye.
Anyways, all this snow has allowed me to become re-acquainted with the pleasantness of snowstorms and such. Really snowstorms aren't quite the same up north. The snow up there doesn't so much fall, as come at you. Sometimes it doesn't even do that, but just seems to manifest out of thin air in the form of drifts. Rock hard drifts. But down here it's so nice! Beautiful. I've had to walk through so much of it this winter.
I see all the people driving by and they look miserable. Admittedly it must suck to drive in all these snowstorms. They should just crash their car into the next telephone poll, get out, turn their mp3 to some pretty girl singing pretty songs over some folk rock band (Ladies might prefer a pretty boy singing pretty songs over some folk rock band. The important part is the folk rock band), and look up at the snow falling down among the street lamps. It becomes impossible to look past the excellence in everything.

Big Breakfast

You know, I'm always running into people who don't eat breakfast. It then doesn't seem all that surprising to me that the world is falling apart.
You know when you were a kid, and things seemed to suck, so you'd throw a tantrum or cry or do something pointless. Mom'd say "oh you're just hungry", or "tired." At the time you thought mom was on drugs or something, but after eating or sleeping you admittedly felt better. The same thing basically applies to grown ups, but instead of crying and throwing tantrums, they're just jerks.
I think people skip breakfast because they don't think they have time in the morning, or they think it's a good way to lose a few pounds. But that's chump talk. Breakfast is the one meal you can get away with overeating. Chances are you're going to burn off whatever you eat in the morning, unless your job is lying down on a couch watching TV (If that's your job, proceed. Kudos). And if you're like me and most North-Americans you love eating. Plus just about every breakfast food is yummy, and you can get superstitious about a Novotel mug.
I must admit, making real breakfast every morning does take a bit longer than not eating, but the feeling good and extra energy makes up for that half hour extra sleep you might have gotten. Did I mention breakfast is yummy?

Robstruck

I remember this one time I met Pat Pentland. It was in Ottawa, in the National Bank ATM just beside what used to be Capital City Music Hall (that used to be the Liquor Dome). I was going to the Sloan concert that night. He musta' thought I was a retard (sorry for that, but I can't think of any other way to put it). I was like OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's Pat Pentland. For a second I thought it was weird that he was wearing a trucker hat, but that thought quickly passed because OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! It's Pat Pentland. I think I shook his hand, and he had to go. I didn't even think of asking for an autograph, or of asking some smart question, or of expressing appreciation for his music and excellent ability to wail.
The same thing happened when I saw Eric Nagler. I even knew he was going to be there because I volunteered as an usher at the Academy Theatre in Lindsay for his show. When he walked by I blurted something like "Holy crap! It's Eric Nagler!" He gave me a look, like I was mocking him, but I was wasn't. It's Eric Nagler!!! Did anyone else ever watch TVO! The Elephant Show!

So, man does this post have too many exclamation marks!!! But those are basically the only two famous people I've ever seen or met, yet despite professing to be somewhat intelligent, my mind disappears around celebrity. It just doesn't make sense. I mean, they're people too. Right?

The Fundamental Taste Equation

So lately I've been reading too much xkcd, so I have the overwhelming desire to graph everything. I used to think that the equation was merely x(fat)=y(taste), but what about yummy lettuce or not-so-yummy pure lard. Here's what I think the graph might look like:

Philosophy of Speed

When i'm on the lower end of the sine curve that is my mania, I have this philosophy that life is like the movie Speed. We're all on this bus that we can't stop with the world going by. Sure enough we all know if we slow down we're doomed. I'm the touristy guy in this fantasy. Maybe I just want to be Ferris Bueller's best friend, but instead of a red wings jersey I'm wearing a leafs one. Nevertheless, I'm the guy the pretty lady has to pretend she's got gum on her seat, GUM!, to get away from. It's not my fault I grew up in Wyoming, or somewhere, and my social skills suck.
But soon Jack Traven will jump aboard and save us all, then later decapitate Dennis Hopper. All will be well.

Doctrine of Frustration

I have four midterms this week. I'm not too worried though.

The Guitar Hero's Yoke

I have a love hate relationship with Guitar Hero. Man that game is fun, but it is so frustrating. I mean, I suck at it. I suppose I just need to practice more. I hoped maybe my actual guitar playing abilities might translate into some Guitar Hero advantage, but not really. My fingers are quick, but they can't comply to a new format. It doesn't work the other way 'round either. After hundreds of hours playing THPS games, when I tried to actually skateboard, to my astonishment, I couldn't. Oh well. I'm happy to stay a skater wannabe, and when I get too frustrated with Guitar Hero it's nice to know I can pick up the real thing and wail hard.