Terror in the Workplace

Today marks a first for me. I'm at work and I'm blogging. Just call me Rob French. Part of me is afraid that I'll get caught and fired, but I'm slightly embarassed to admit that it looks more like I'm doing work right now than in the previous half hour of reading 15 Minute Lunch and fighting valiantly against laughing aloud. It might have been that fear that contributed so much to what just happened.

But I think a little exposition is in order before we get to today's post-worthy nugget. Sometimes I take breaks. I'm only human, and I work better under the 10/5 rule anyway. (Ten minutes of work: five minutes of play. Rinse and repeat.) One of these breaks coincided with a visit to the office's magnificently appointed bathroom. I have to say, as cans go, this one is top notch.

Its heyday was clearly in the 1940's (also when the last redecorating went on), but it's still one of the classier John' s I've encountered*. To give you a general idea of just how classy I mean follow me through this: picture a normal men's room. Now picture floor to ceiling dividers between the urinals. Now imagine that they're made of solid, two inch marble that comes out far enough to obscure even the fattest man that might be urinating next to you. That's how classy. You can actually violate the Man Law article stating that there must be at least one empty urinal between you and the next man because you're practically in a seperate room.

In anycase, I was not so much there to use bathroom as I was to hide in a stall listening to music and playing Block Breaker Deluxe on my cell phone. It was quite a comfortable arrangement and an inconspicuous way to kill a few minutes.

Or it was, until one of my bosses walked in. I have no less than seven and I knew it was the stern one by his tight assed, over-polished shoes. Reflexively I turned down the volume on the iPod afraid he hear it and know I'm there. Would he have cared? Who knows. But the fact is, that dude makes me nervous. Plus, I'm hiding. By definition I don't want my location to be known. I certainly don't want him to know that I'm sitting, pants-up on the toilet playing a cellphone game. So I'm somewhat tense but I'd resolved to go back to playing my game when the cell phone explodes in my hand into a flurry of light, sound and vibration:

"CALL CONNECTED THROUGH THE NSA...(vibration)... COMPLETE TRANSMISSION THROUGH THE NSA...(burst of three audible vibrations)... SUSPENDING YOUR RIGHTS FOR THE DURATION OF THE PERMENANT WAR."

I screamed like a woman. A woman who had just seen IT for the first time whose boyfriend hid in her closet in a clown suit and jumped out at midnight saying "Beep Beep." I screamed like that woman. At the same time I flailed my arms and knocked my iPod off the shelf it was sitting on (I told you they were nice bathrooms) and nearly into the toilet. I caught it by the upper right corner. I didn't know what else to do so I answered the phone and politely informed the caller it wasn't a good time. I neglected to mention that her call very nearly caused the only instance of a man sitting on a toilet and yet still shitting his pants in history.

The boss walked out of the bathroom, apparently not much of a hand washer that one, and I sat there for a good five minutes before I came out (much of it laughing). I think next week I'll be hiding in the record room. And my phone will be on vibrate.

- Scott

* This line works equally well on a prostitute blog.

Comma Comma Comma Comma Comma Chameleon

I'm a fan of punctuation as much as anyone. I love it. In fact, I love it so much that if I ever time travel and I meet E.E. Cummings, I'll punch that apunctilious "poet" in the face for what he did to my precious periods, commas and semicolons.

But even I will concede that there are places that punctuation does not belong. Namely, on your face. I've always held that this goes without saying, but apparently a large contingent of the garden variety sorority skanks I encounter on a daily basis don't feel the same way. Below is an artist's conception of the kind of "eyebrows" they regularly sport.

The Commabrow. (It should be noted that the "artist" mostly gets by on sizzling good looks.)

I invite anyone with the skill to fix it to clean that up. The inner corner shold be wispier, and there should be about three eyebrow hairs per square inch on the long portion fanning outward in an arch that makes St. Louis's contribution to the shape look meager by compairson. So not only do they look like an over-plucked, punctuation-faced tart, they look perpetually surprised about it. And in general, whoreish makeup should cake the face.

This has to stop. In the interest of bringing that about I'm making an announcement:

People of the world: Spice up your life.

Ahem. Not sure what came over me. Let me try again:

Tweezing women of the world: Your girlscaping is perfectly fine, but leave a realistic eyebrow. Provided you don't look like Bert, nobody will complain.

That is all.

- Scott

A Meteoric Rise

I'm sure you all remember my earlier work in mass media. I was an actor portraying myself in a commercial for Robert Morris College. A humble beginning, but you've got to start somewhere. Although I wanted something better I had no idea that my next job would be the lead in a major motion picture. That's right. Re-read that sentence.

I was writing about the movie Eragon, at the time I thought the trailer was a little hokey. Hell, based on the trailer they could have called it the Neverending Story Vol. 3. But while writing a post tearing it apart I was advised by my agent to stop immediately. Because it came to my attention that I can't make fun of the movie or its any of its inaccuracies because I am actually in the titular role. That's right. I'm playing Eragon.

It happened suddenly, I auditioned, I got the part, they filmed it. You'd think I would remember filming a movie, but as my agent reminded me I was heavily drugged most of the time because I wouldn't agree to sign the NDA. I wanted to blog about it. So they kept slipping me roofies and making me act. It turns out that's what I did with those missing seven months from graduation to grad school.

Kidnapping or not, it was a great experience and I learned a lot (I think). The studio really took care of me. I mean, I even have headshots and everything.

Damn, I'm good looking. I tried to do something with my hair, but they liked it better the way it looks when I just get up from a drug induced stupor. Give the people what they want I say. Especially when they have an army of PA's coercing your conformity.


My facial expression in this scene is directly taken from one I use when brushing my teeth. In fact, I 've taken to shouting 'Brisingr!' when I do. It burns the germs; they don't like it.

So come out and see me on December 15th. I'll be the guy at the theater who looks exactly like the guy on the screen. It'll be hard to miss. I don't know if they'll let me take my bow in, and my leather vest thing is a bit... we'll say "fopish." But I promise to let you pet my dragon (ladies only), and I'll sign things. Maybe even for free.

I'll leave you with a moment of Zen: the fantasticly good, not at all cheesy, wonderfully acted Eragon trailer. Enjoy.

- Scott

I usually don't do this kind of thing...

But I'm making an exception. Enjoy:

Props to Nessa for this.

- Scott

Braff Folds Five

Ok, last week featured an overly long explanation of the Top Five/Bottom Five. This week will be twice as succinct. Or half as long. Come to think of it, I could cut that last sentence... and this one.

Top Five:
1.) This man is an inspiration. He didn't go to college. He worked a job, made money. Saved it. Then spent it all on his world wide wanderlust. Somebody saw the original video, then paid him to repeat the feat with better cameras... and they'd finance it. So he went, what you see is the result. For someone who is considering venturing into the real world once and for all... it's a comfort to see someone else who's just as ridiculous as me.
2.) Seen Garden State? Seen the trailer for The Last Kiss? Know who Zach Braff is? Read this. Love it.
3.) My very educated mother just spelled umlauts, nerd. It just doesn't make sense without Pluto.
4.) Debating what a song means? Check this site. I'm semi-addicted.
5.) Self explanatory.

Bottom Five:
1.) What the crap, Apple?
2.) See #1
3.) Most self-righteous, self-important, annoying people to walk the earth.
4.) Who assigned it? A journalist.
5.) Friends are great, but Battlestar Galactica season premiers happen but once a season.

- Scott

You make me wanna... well, hit you both actually.

Today marks an event of historical note. Never before in the history of the Wonder Blog ®, or Crush of the Week™, have two people been simultaneously featured (with the exception of Rosario Dawson being in the same picture as Scarlett Johansson. But that was because I couldn't bring myself to prominently display that harpy without something to redeem the photo.)

But I just stumbled upon these pictures and it must be done. I've considered both of these... *grudging use of the term* women... before and they both are squarely in the realm of anti-crushes. However I had no pressing reason to post about them, no straw to break this camel's back, no photo to damn them in the eyes of my readers. Not until now. Without further meaningless typing:

Anti-Crush of the Week!

Name(s): Jessica and *heavy sigh* Ashlee Simpson. What a ridiculous spelling of a simple name. I bet they let Jessica name her.

(A few of the) Reasons they've earned my contempt: Well let's start with the obvious. Jessica is a moron. I've heard it spun seventeen ways that it's just her image and she's being ditzy all the way to the bank but let's not kid ourselves, if she could pull that off she wouldn't have had 80% of her role in Dukes of Hazzard cut out. She's a perfect example of a character that put all their attribute points into appearance. INT, WIS, CHA? Nada. And ever since she left Nick, my tolerance for her has gone down faster than her father's eyes when she's wearing a tube top. (Cheap shot, but that guy creeps me out. Also he once said this.)

Now, my real gripe. Ashlee. Remember when you could glance at a picture of Ashlee Simpson and instantly recogonize her (if you answered no to this question, you're either a better person than I, foreign, or both). I do. Those were the halcyon days. But now? I have to flip through my mental rolodex of skinny, annoying female celebrities made generic by plastic surgery before I get even the slightest clue as to who I might be grimacing at (I really hate those types).

Me Bonus: This is a feature I like to use when explaining just why a girl is so great isn't enough. I have to show you. As far as anti-crushes it's hard to decide what to do with it because I really don't to put more of these vapid, ditsy girls on my site. This time it's just a picture to illustrate how thoroughly Ashlee's surgery ruined her appearence.

On the left: A person. On the right: The latest plastic toy to come off the press.


Once again. On the left: Who the hell is that? On the right: That girl who screwed up on SNL.

I wonder if she had to get a new driver's license picture. Seriously.

- Scott

DON'T FORGET!

Nuclear war starts tomorrow, so if you were going to... I don't know maybe pay some rent or tuition: don't. If you were saving your virginity for something... also don't. How do I know this? Well... I think we can trust Overseer Yisrayl Hawkins, don't you? He's from the AHOY*, the American House of Yahweh. When you're naming convention reminds people of a.) Pirates, b.) IHOP, you've set the stage for some entertaining commentary. If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself.

Now if you'll excuse the Overseer, he and Fred Phelps have to get back to ordering the assassinations of some homosexuals. And if they have time before the end of the world, they'll be going to a soldier's funeral with Thank God for IED's signs. And after that... maybe some grab ass.

- Scott

* Ok, so I gave them the name AHOY. But they'd use it if they had been clever enough to think of it themselves. So let's just pretend they do.

Yesterday: A Six Beer day. Today: A two post day.

Ok I'm about to literally run to work because I should have been there a half hour ago, but before I do that I want you to know that I intend to post today. A real post. Longer than this. Probably funnier as well. In the mean time you may enjoy my theme song.

White & Nerdy

It's scary how much of this song might apply to me.

- Scott

P.S. Lyrics in comments.

*ahem* CRUSH OF THE WEEK!

After a long hiatus, and an even longer period of not wanting to do this particular segment, I've decided to get back in the game. It's only lust after all, and as some of you choose to believe (to make yourselves feel better I suppose) I probably won't be sleeping with most of these women. Let's get down to business shall we?

My Crush ' o the Week
(seriously, she just gets one week)

Name: Kimberly "Alexis" Bledel

Why she's crush worthy: First of all, I have to give props to a girl who masquerades as Alexis when her first name is Kimberly. I know that pain. I've overcome a similar hardship; my first name is Harry. You're forever explaining the origin of that name, why you're called something else, if you mind being called the other name, and what you think of your "real" name. However it's rare that a person can be forced to do that dance with each new aquaintence and remain so ridiculously good looking. In fact I only know of two examples, and I'm the other one.

All of this is not to mention her acting on the Gilmore Girls. If I could choose any girl from any book, film, or TV show to date there is no doubt in my mind it'd be Rory Gilmore. In fact, I'm sure if it ever comes up I'll have answered before the question is even finished*. Even if they follow up "but first, you have to sleep with Delta Burke." For Rory? I'd take the hit. Alexis was also charming in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. (Yes I watched it. Twice.) And she manages to make the movie tolerable.

Finally, she just seems clean. All the time. It could be her complexion, her demeanor, whatever. But (though we haven't met yet), I bet she always smells good. Mariah Carey, for whatever reason, I'd bet she smells like sourdough. And hooker perfume. Scarlett Johanson? Like old milk. Alexis Bledel? Really, really good. Nothing overpowering, just a hint of flowers. Something light. Something that draws you in closer. Ah she's lovely.

Scott Bonus: I was going to embed the video of her in the video for the (almost insufferable) Less Than Jake song "She's gonna break." However, I can't friggin' stand Less Than Jake anymore. Yes things are different from how they were when you were in high school. I'm glad you could eek out five albums on that concept.

So instead you get to watch this lovely interview on Conan. She's even charming when she's doing whorish product placement for Wendy's... which incidentally worked. So I'm off to get tasty 99¢ Five Piece Chicken Nuggets. Enjoy your video.

- Scott

Top Five Records

...was the name of Rob Gordon's record company in High Fidellity. It's also a good reference for the several records that have been set by my top five section. The most recent addition to the hit parade of touted top five/bottom five records is the longest non-updated list. I hope you really enjoyed the screaming PS3 nerd, Wes Anderson's commercial, scorpion venom, county jail beauty contests and extremely high bridge trolls, because you had a good eight weeks of them.

Now we're back in business, and I'm adding a post to the affair. I've always wanted to better explain my pithy little links, and that's what this segment will do from now on (bonus, I already have a half finished Crush o' the Week lined up for tommrow's posting). So here goes, I'ma explain you why I picked h'waht I picked.

Top Five:

1.) Grad students met up for some drinks, comiseration, and sneering disaprovingly at undergrads. Since we don't know each other that well yet it was reminiscent of the early episodes in a reality show. In a related story, I sometimes worry greatly about the way I perceive the world, but I can't right now because I'm working out who the strongest person to enter into an alliance with would be.

2.) and also 3.) Grad students are, apparently, to expect lots of reading. Sure there's a payoff at the end, but before that we get to deal with looooooong passages of rambling, but erudite descriptions of the state of the media, the horrors of splitting infinitives, and how much better things were before bloggers (Yo.) came along. However you get fun reading. It's long but you should enjoy it. Two is quite possibly the scariest internet story ever told, and Three is a more comical runner up.

4.) "I don't care about The Prime Directive; we gotta go beyond Warp Factor 9 to Warp Factor: Love." If that doesn't sell you on it, there's hilarious nerd dancing as well.

5.) More nerd video editing fun. Just watch it.

Bottom Five:

1.) Self explanitory. Also, my bad.
2.) Goodspeed good Croc Hunter.
3.) Incidentally, the footwear by the name Croc has incured my wrath. They're the only shoe that can go anywhere, do anything, and be completely unacceptable all the while. Sure they're the finest in dish-washable footwear, but they're the worst foot accessory since Jellies.
4.) Girlfriend's 21st birthday, I couldn't feel my NECK. Though my aim was impeccable when the time came.
5.) Seriously, it's just tacky.

- Scott