Did you really think we would let you get away with it?!

Timmy timmy timmy, (if you were Beetlejuice you would have just popped up with some zany adventure) I really appreciate what you do for our blogging triad. But you tried to get ahead of us with that widescreen stuff. I'm not going to leave it like this, I just don't want you getting too cocky. I can copy you in a heartbeat. And will.

Anyway, today was quite a day. I had two presentations to give. Both were hilarious and at least B work. Score! I'm too burned out to care about grades at this point. The first was a powerpoint, and I left a lot of jokes in it that I meant to delete for the presentation. Fortunately only one was noticed. And it was about beer.

The second presentation was less smooth. You see, I was once told that I was appointed editor of the school paper. I might have mentioned it once or twice to some people, I can be midly narsistic. Sadly, I forgot to go to the weekly newspaper staff meeting. For three weeks. That didn't sit well with the professor who oversees the paper. In fact you could say she was pissed. And what does this have to do with my second presentation you ask? Well, she was the guest evaluator. Joy.

Sos, I get up infront of my professional development class and gave this big spiel about how I would be good for such and such position etc. I got some jokes in at various points. Seemed to go well. As I'm walking back to my seat someone says "You might want to zip up your fly." No way. No way did that just happen. Sure enough...look down...zip up. Damn. "Do I get points taken off for that?" I asked. "Or maybe I get some seduction points added?" I said with a (rediculously) attractive gleam in my eye. That got the best laugh of the day. So my work was done. Oh yeah, the professor (who looks good, even when angry) wasn't giving me the stink eye either. All in all, mission accomplished.

One final thing for this, somewhat worthless post, I screwed up the quote thing over on http://xrobfrenchx.blogspot.com. So I reckon I'll post my own 80's movie quote. You guys have the challenge of telling me what movie it came from and (if possible) the scene. Here goes:

"Kick him in the nards!!"
"What?!"
"Kick him in the nards so he can't follow you."
[Kicks wolfman in nards]
"Wow! Wolfman has nards!!"

1000000 cool points if you get this one.

(Widescreen is Copyright Timmy Tapeworm Industries 2004, 80's Quote Game is Copyright Rob French Comedy Inc 2004.)

Free at last, free at last, thank Lordy, free at last

Me'sa write papers allll day long. Day's never finished, Masa got me workin', Masa got me workin' so haaaard. Ok, enough slave talk. But I was singing slave working songs over the past week as I work on the freak'n pantload of papers my professors were kind enough to crap all over me. But today, I finished the last of them. Halleuja! I feel like celebrating like a slave that made it to the north. Thank YOU Drinkin' Gord. You really can follow it, who knew?

But other than working on papers (and showing masa's wife why she can't go back) I've been having shenanigans, or misadventury if you will. I have had this 10 page paper for my government class that I've been neglecting for the past...10 weeks. Just not a lot of drive to do it, combined with not having a topic. I eventually stole one from a hot girl I know and went to work on it. My subject: The History of Jersey County. How fun. Turns out the only place you can research the history of Jersey County is IN Jersey County. Which gave me an interesting opportunity. Nobody can check my facts on this one, at least no one from my school. So, at various points in my paper random bits of history are inserted. For instance, did you know that the mayor asked the police department to shoot the birds off the statue on top of the courthouse, not realizing that it was hollow and would become infested with bees? Oops. Not quite how it happened, but it adds some zip to it.

So for the weekend at least I was back in town, Friday night I went and saw the variety show. Wow. I can't believe how much better we were. For starters, you could tell that everything the Emcee's (I love when terms that are actually abbreviations get to become legitimized words by adding vowels i.e. emcee, deejay, etc. It's the American Dream in word form) were totally going from pre-approved scripts. COME ON, where is the potential to get into serious trouble. Where is the lacking, clearly stretching for time dialogue? Not here that's where, not.

Then they ripped off my and Paul's Twelve Days of Christmas bit. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I ripped it off too. But I ripped it off from someone that did it six years before me. That's how you do it, that's how you steal. You steal something obscure enough that you can pass it off as your own. What are these kids learning in school? The only thing what they did could have been was an hommage to myself. In which case, they could have done a better job.

Moving right along, the next day Steve, Nathan, Myself, and Jacob went and saw National Treasure. It was like Indiana Jones but what's that thing it lacked, Oh yeah a decent plot, convincing actors, blood, any sort of interest, and credibility. Other than that, just like Indiana Jones. The gist of the movie was that Nicolas Cage was finding clues left behind by the signers of the declaration of independance, to some gi-normous treasure. The first (of many) problem(s) I have with this movie is that apparently the two things our founding fathers did with this treasure is: 1.) Hide it. and 2.) Leave clues EVERYWHERE about where they hid it. I'm surprised we weren't invaded by Canada.

Sunday consisted of me being too cynical in church and watching TV. Eventually I decided that I needed to head back to Springfield. The drive up was pretty uneventful other than almost getting pulled over by the fuzz for driving like I'm playing GTA. That game is bad on so many levels it's subliminal. Then I finally got home. To my crib, my pad, my home away from home. To an awful smell, one I think must have been hiding behind my El Rancharito bench. Because I walked in and was fine for about .25 seconds, then this sneaky bastard jumped out and socked me in the face. The nose specifically. My first thought was "it's either bad meat or good cheese." Turned out, bad meat. I had a flashback, I kid you not with overexposed borders framing the shot, of me throwing away some skanky ground chuck on Thursday. Good Lord, I thought it was skanky then... If I go another hundred years and don't smell anything like that again I'll have lived a happy life. If a fart farted, that's what I'd imagine it would smell like. And luckily I had enough fans and windows to air my place out, not like it was in the 30's last night. And that cold air moves so much, really helps disperse the smell... I went through a whole can of Oust, and half a can of Febreeze air spray before the place was liveable again.

Frankly, I reccomend against rotting meat as potpouri. Well, that's what's been up with me lately. In Rob French fashion I'll try to post again tomorrow now that I'm no longer in Alabama. - Scott

A loving look back...

I realize I haven't been blogging as fast and furious as I'd like to recently. So rather than string you along with little bits of mediocre quickie posts, I'll tide you over with an abundance of Scott Styled Internet Madness. What am I talking about you ask, well let me explain these two sites I'm going to introduce and perhaps you'll have a little better idea.

First off: Project Bilbo
A strange name for a strange project. It was our senior year and me, Stevo, Barrett, Nathan Harry, and Tim had nothing to do. So we get the brilliant idea that we wanted to live underground like Bilbo Baggins. It was the kind of idea that stoners have, but would never seriously consider persuing. Well, we are more persistant than stoners and have a bad idea rate that's easily twice as high. So this is the end result. Read the History, Index, and Pic Pages for the full story. And a healthy dose of Scott.

Next on deck: The Heaven's Devils Homepage
As my good friend Steve Harmon once said "With Scott everything gets a T-Shirt and a Webpage." How right he is, note the last update (over a year ago...my bad). We were (and are) the baddest biker gang in the world, maybe even the state. You know those Harley guys with their beer bellies, biker stench and engine CC's in the triple and quadruple digits? They're over compensating. I'll let you figure out for what. A real man rides a bike with a two number CC engine. Preferably bogged down with the weight of the rider and his lady. If he can find a skull helmet, plether jacket and fingerless spiked gloves he's all the badder.

Browse these gems of website design (circa 1995), and let's hear the opinions. And if you were there, share a story - Scott

Bunch of complainers, all of you

But I'm doing it all for you. So, my loving public, the 'shitty' post has been moved. Bonus points to whoever finds it first. Since I don't have much to post about currently I'll post one I've been saving for emergency use. The glass is broken, we might as well use it so here goes:

The dean of my school, in addition to the academic advisors selected me and 3 others as the student representatives of the college. How elite, how amazing, blah, blah, blah. We had this 10 week training period, we attended seminars on leadership, mentoring, being a douche, professionalism, etc. Then for the culmination they took us to Chicago, where we had a ceremony in the Walnut Room. Tre sophisticated.

Anyway, they wanted us to present a slick, professional image to the incomming students (those that we, I, would be responsible for). The dean/academic advisors decided it would be a good idea for us to have a card to give to them. The thing that caught my attention was that we would be designing and producing the cards ourselves. This was their greatest downfall. I got in trouble for it, but not too much. Just a scolding, probably because they thought it was pretty funny themselves. So, without further adieu, here is my business card that I present to all (female) freshmen and hand out around the community:





Giggedy giggedy, OHHHH Yeah! - Scott

Political Free Zone Ahead

I was thinking of writing some kind of politically charged article about the election and whatnot. But then I just said "fuck it". Then I was like, "did I really need to cuss". Then I decided that my image requires that I cuss from time to time and meditated on that. But I've come to the conclusion that I never want to hear about politics, hanging chads (Unless my friend Chad Bradley hangs himself. That I'd want to hear about), red states, blue states, states of mind..., the war on *fill in political buzz word here*, whateva. Just shut up. I want to see my damn shows, NOT 8 networks finding new and elaborate ways to say "We don't know".

One side note: Anytime there's a 'War on *BLANK*' it's kind of rediculous. You might as well have a war on sadness. A war on an abstract concept is going to be pretty damn hard to pull off. Like the war on drugs. Nobody says "Oh man, this damn war on drugs. When are we going to end this slaughter? WHEN?" "Here man, this might be our last joint. We're here on the frontlines on the war on drugs. I'm so scared hold me." "You aren't scared of the war, that's just the paranoia kicking in." Ok so maybe that last sentence gets uttered from time to time. But come on! So yeah, the ill defined war on terror falls squarely in this grey zone of shenanigan.

Moving along. My first java program went to shit pretty quickly. That damn number counter never got off the ground. And I was pretty annoyed about it. Then my Team Venture shirt took a laundry ride and came out a little worse for the wear. Team Venture was taking hits all over the place. But over the last two weeks we have pulled a Lazarus and risen again. Not that we're really back in the game, because of the first assignment debacle, we'd have to sabotage them...to...You know what, we might be back in the game.

Moving on. A little story about my day. But to be straight up Tarintino stizzle I'll be starting in the middle. No one in town sells legs for a sofa. ANYWHERE. And doesn't it sound like something you've seen and disreguarded because you didn't need it at the time. Like condoms for Tim, or an on-call lawyer for myself. Well, it seemed that way to me. And yet nothing.
*********Three Months Ago**********

Steve and Barrett unexpectedly show up at my apartment in Springfield. Apparently they looked in the windows first to make sure I wasn't busy. (Good thing they didn't show up a half hour earlier) baZING. Anyway suddenly imbued with more manpower I had an idea. Earlier that day I saw a perfectly good sofa just sitting by the side of the road! It had to be mine. It was even a flip and f*ck. (See how I sensor myself: only put one f-bomb per entry. Anymore than that and I have to be an R-rated blog. Because kids can see half a boob in a PG-13 but if they hear the f-word twice in 2 hours they'll be corrupted beyond any usefulness to society and become murderers). Naturally I put them to good use. Thanks guys, it looked really heavy. We got it into my apartment and into the spare bedroom only to open it up and find no mattress and no legs on it. Still free is free...
*********Present Day************

My mom found a foldable box-spring mattress for the sofa, and I brought it here in my car. Although at the end of the day still no legs. Then it hit me, what are my old school books for? So, I took a page from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and use books to support my couch. Ah, cartoons. What can't you teach us - Scott

Smoking blunts and bustin' caps in whitey

Sorry kids, I know how much you love me. I hereby dedicate myself to posting no less than twice a week. Although I will note how well my silent treatment worked. It was like a hunger strike of no updates. And what happened? Friends came crawling out of the woodwork to tell me about it. Two of them even commented (thank you Rob, and Timmy). That's all I want people, I'm doing it all for you. Jeez.

In other news, my costume was a huge success. The smarter people got it, the idiots I didn't care about anyway. There was a friggin pantload of other funny costumes. But at the top of the list were Nathan Rice as an ostrich, and Ryan Kanakallan as Smoky The Bear...with a joint. What a great audience. As Cady (of Mean Girls) pointed out, Halloween for girls is the opportunity to dress like a skank and not be labeled a skank. And oh how glorious the pseudo-skanks were. From the naughty school teacher complete with ruler and pupil to punish, to the various "See the ears I'm a *fill in animal here*." Yeah, you're an animal...now I get beastiality. (Was that one toke over the line?) Answer: yeah probably. I had a hella good time. And not just because it was Halloween, because I was drunk!

But even the sober times moved along nicely. Saturday night I had dinner at the Bar-B-Que place in Champaign. Very nice, there's this huge cage structure in the center of the 'establishment' with one table in it at the very base. Thanks to my quick wit and good lucks, that's where we sat. I proceeded to order everything the waitress suggested (which started out with 2 big appetizers) . This confused the hell out of her. And I went on and on with it. Tried to order some Merlot. Then slapped Nathan for forgetting my ID. Fun fun, all in all a very good night.

I came home Sunday night and recouperated from my wild weekend. Pretty uneventful that day sadly, but for a day I just wanted to sleep through, it was perfect. Today, I've cheifly played Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Good game. In the beginning it's a little depressing (as I would imagine being a young black man in the ghetto would be) but after you start comming up in the world it's better. I like to yell anti-white things as I cap crackas. Or beaners. Or ricers. Good times.

Also, the writing for that EQ site continues. So that takes a bit o' time. Which I suppose is better than taking my bit o' honey. Because if they tried that I'd have to pop a cap in their asses - Scott