Sunday, November 29, 2009
It’s been six years since Earth’s most famous robots unfolded themselves from their pod and rolled out on Mars. We started each morning with Spirit and Opportunity, giddy with anticipation of new discoveries as updates piped through the radio, interwebs, and newspapers. Dorky NASA scientists blasted inspirational songs like “Wheels in the Sky Keep on Turnin’” to cheer them on to victory.
Now our longest serving astronauts have fallen to the wayside. As hope for liquid water evaporated, so did funding and enthusiasm. Now Spirit is stranded in a sulfate sinkhole; if he cannot free himself from these elemental shackles soon, his long-distance handlers will be forced to cut the circuit-laden umbilical cord. Spirit will then retire in Troy, his Martian tomb, while his brother, Opportunity, weeps oily tears.
What Spirit needs is some motivation. We need to bring back the morning anthems -- and who better to do it than Captured! By Robots? Currently energizing the masses, both hardwired and au natural, Jbot and his soldered soldiers would be the perfect band to get our rickety rover out of his death pit. NASA, I hope you’re listening and sending this message up to the heavens.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Spoiler alerts on this season's must have book, from Eatmedaily.com
* "Hell, when I was growing up I could make a meal out of a package of Top Ramen and a bottle of Windex."
* "Everything I cook tastes better than yo' momma's nipples."
* "I may not be an iron chef, but I'm the only chef with platinum records."
* "You can't have your spatulas and your whisks runnin' around like they own the place."
* "My marinades add color and flavor so intense that it makes the Mona Lisa look like the Sunday edition of Marmaduke."
* "If MacGyver could turn a paper clip and a roll of toilet paper into a Jet Ski, then you can use a slotted spoon to create a breakfast of mass destruction."
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Jet Setters be warned: Pies on planes = fine. Dipping sauces = less so.
As per TSA
Everyone has favorite foods from home that they want to bring to holiday dinners, or items from their destination that they want to bring back home. Travelers should know that while pies are permitted through the security checkpoint, here is a list of liquids, gels and aerosol items that you should put in your checked bag, ship ahead, or leave at home.
* Cranberry sauce
* Creamy dips and spreads
(cheeses, peanut butter, etc.)
* Gift baskets with food items
(salsa, jams and salad dressings)
* Maple syrup
* Oils and vinegars
* Salad dressing
* Wine, liquor and beer
For the snow globe enthusiast:
TSA does not permit snow globes through the security checkpoint because they contain an undetermined amount of liquid. Snow globes are permitted in checked baggage.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
So, I'll say it. I go on bad first dates, exclusively. I'm not sure if it's a path I've chosen, or just one that I've drunkenly stumbled into, but you could say I've become a guru on the topic of terrible encounters. For this reason, I feel qualified to extend some helpful dating advice to the DoE's (Dudes of Earth.)
Tip 1: Don't show up with your buddy.
I know that this seems intuitive to most, but some guys think bringin' their bro along is a good idea. It isn't. If women wanted to date small children we would cruise matinees of Where the Wild Things Are in this van:
Tip 2: Talking about your adulterous ex.
Our silent inner monologue during the first time you bring it up: "Ouch. I probably didn't need to know that just yet. Sucks to be that guy."
The second time: "Let's see, HEB closes at ??? I need eggs, coffee, bread..."
The third time: "I should really get back into vermiculture. I'll need to get a plastic crate and drill in some air holes. I should start dating guys who own tools..."
Tip 3: Pick the girl up, or at least offer to.
If I were going downtown with a friend, I would pick them up. It's good manners. Also, it gives you a chance to get the awkward out of the way fast before you start mainlining gin at the bar. Need another reason? Good chicks will smoke you out upon arrival.
There you go fellas, you're welcome.
There's got to be a better way.
I propose Speed (Metal) Dating, mainly because the mental image is Ahhh-dorable. Wayward musicians would meet up at some location, probably a pizzeria, and take turns interviewing potential bandmates. (Drummers, would of course have free admission.) "Who are your musical influences?" "What are your side projects?" "Do you have access to a van?"
Bam! You're playing Headhunters The. Next. Night.
Thank me later. (But please don't invite me.)
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sure, the organic/local/slow food movements have their places in this world, but when you crave greasy french fries and nutrient-free sandwiches, that hippy crap won't save you. Nope, when you need copious calories fast, you know what to do: tap into those glowing, golden beakens of arched hope.
Yesterday, I did just that. When I pulled up to order, a VERY excited voice came over the speaker: "Hey! Why don't you get a McRib? They're finally back!" I gracefully declined, but had to know more. I pulled to the window and asked Team Leader Eric about his riblust.
Kind Robot: "Eric. How long has the McRib been back?"
Team Leader Eric: "Only just today! It's the very first day! It's been so long! Why didn't you get one? Is it because it's a heart attack on a bun?"
KR: "That doesn't bother me. It's the shape. It's packed to look like it has bones in it, but you and I both know there's never been anything resembling a bone in that particle pork."
T.L.E.: "You shouldn't worry about those things. People have been calling their friends, makin' three, four trips through, gettin' more McRibs. It's been at least eight months since we've had them. People were giving up."
It turns out that this is true. I've been alerting people about the McRib's re-arrival ever since and the responses have been mixed. Some people shudder, while others immediately call loved ones to tell them the amazing news.
Also, it's got a jazzy new website: http://www.mcrib.com/
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Ig Nobel winner, Elena Bodnar, is marketing the fruits of her life's labor in the form of the bra mask. At first glance it looks like an ordinary off the shoulder boulder holder. But when the heavy shit hits and the sky rains macaroni, only those with a bra mask will be spared. See, each bra breaks into two satin cup masks, protecting its owner from... dust I guess? What evs, at least we'll all get one final chuckle at human folly as men and women scamper the streets with delicates on their faces.
I could only find the video as a link, so visit it HERE.
But a quick google search did reveal the amazing video below, hosted by a competing bra mask innovator. I know what you're thinking: "Is the bra mask market be large enough to accommodate TWO entrepreneurs?" Well, at these prices, you can't afford NOT to buy one.
SXSW. The Chronicle. KOOP. All will fall victim to the newest addition to ASL: The Highly Evolved Robots of Bro-town.
Steal a base and they'll sever your tendons with their meticulously accurate LASER beams. Talk shit and they'll use the Matrix of Leadership to breath life into your smartphone and turn its loyalties. They will battle foes with unyielding resolve and leave only a pile of perfectly dismantled bones in their wake. The Chronicle, however, will still have better uniforms. Season 2010 is going to be great.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
In a perfect world these girls would live upstairs. They would venture down nightly to experiment with dangerous meat/liquor/milkshake combinations while we all wear lovely vintage dresses. We would trim each others bangs while concocting new evolutionary states of drunkenness. Our student loan companies would never find us. On our death beds we would know that our lives were meaningful for we had provided the world with a great service: swine and poultry based libations. Until that day comes, Alie & Georgia: We toast you.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
OBITUARY Guitarist Launches BBQ Sauce
Trevor Peres, guitarist of long running Florida death metal legends OBITUARY, recently launched his own Bar-B-Que sauce line. Dubbed T-Bone's Famous, Peres' "Original Rib'Licous Bar-B-Que Sauce" has "a sweet and tangy flavor with a blend of mild spices and a hint of hickory smoke." In a word: Awesome. Peres will be releasing additional flavors -- Spicy Rib Rub, Sweet Chicken Rub and Spicy Hot Bar-B-Que -- in the coming weeks.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Updates on our ever-changing vernacular.
Manslide: 1.) The sordid aftermath of a manvalanche 2.) When an assemblage of your former trysts are spotted engaging one another in conversation. Duck and cover, girls. Duck and cover.
Layover: A man of the interim, to tide you over until something more substantial comes along.
Rock and Roll Blue Balls: Pressure build-up in your heart and groin during long stints of ho-hum live shows. Recently discovered cures: Magnifico! aboard a party barge and/or two days at Fun Fun Fun Fest.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Cheapskates' Guide To Fun Fun Fun Fest. Day 2 (AKA: I Got Splashed by Metallagher and All I Got Were These Lousy Cottage Cheese Highlights.)
What's that FFF Fest? You've got rain? Two words: umbrella hat. And mud? Again: rad galoshes. You're not going to win that easily: Goonies never say die.
The Goal: Do Fun Fun Fun Fest on 5 dollars a day, or less while staying stoned and drunk.
Rouge correspondent, Farm Fresh, was first on the scene Sunday, so she paid it forward with a visit to the Logan's Run inspired Camel Tent to score me a free pack. For those of you who didn't fall prey to Camel's seductive, neon siren cry, let me assure you: you're a better person because of it. In addition to having impossibly attractive people force handfulls of creepy new smokeless tobacco products on you (Snus), it also felt like a room where ET life performs anal probes, where bygone ravers are resurrected, and where all of your personal information is filed in a master mainframe -- most likely blacklisting you from the new National Health Care Plan. But fuck it. It kept me in smokes through Danzig.
Since we still had some buried booze on premises, we only needed to smuggle in a supplemental supply. A friend from work lent me her boozenoculars, giant duel flasks that masquerade as stuffy old "ordinary" binoculars. Let 'em check your decoy, NPR tote bag. It's clean. I know what you're thinking: "Hey, Kind Robot, that's great and all, but what about mixers?"
The answer? Do The Bustle.
Baby doll dresses are terribly forgiving of form. Create a make-shift bustle in the back and you too could smuggle in one liter containers of tonic, loaves of bread, hunks of cheese, etc. Hell, you might even turn a few heads with all that junk in your trunk.
Five dollars on chicken flautas during Day One. Totes worth it since fried doesn't smuggle well. Day Two? Zero spent, plus two free packs of smokes. I declare this mission a success. But don't go digging around Waterloo expecting to find our castoffs; So Like Yeah girls take lessons from the boy scouts. We take only photos and leave only footprints.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
THE GOAL: Do Fun Fun Fun Fest on 5 bucks a day, or less while staying stoned and drunk.
Rent. Emergency trips to the vet. That trendy griffin costume at Halloween. All of that stuff accumulates financially, and it has a tendency to happen during periods with gross quantities of EFP (Explosive Fun Potential). But you don’t have to be flush to have fun; you just need to start acting like a Goonie.
THE PLAN: Bury two days worth of booze in advance to avoid friction with gate guards.
Not only was this really fun, but it worked like a champ. A fellow Goonie and dear friend of So Like Yeah printed out the map from FFF Fest’s website and brought a mag light, so that we wouldn’t dig down where porta potties, stages, or – most ironic of all – bars, were slated to be placed.
I pruned out a little citrus, some lemongrass and other herbs from my yard, shoved them in mason jars, then filled them with vodka. I put those and tonic bottles into freezer-sized zipper bags, grabbed a shovel and met my fellow Goonie at Waterloo Park several days prior to the festival. We hurled the shovel over the fence, snuck in through a gap, found our spots and did some digging. (Also, an FYI: After retrieving your booze, those FFF Fest maps can be rolled into excellent funnels.)
There’s only one problem with this plan: it doesn’t take human nature into consideration. A drunk with buried treasure isn’t going to practice moderation. Needless to say, the drunker we got the more we wanted to dig up the second pile, so we tapped into Sunday’s supply early. That’s alright. We have a plan for Day Two as well.