Full of Awk

So we are no longer advertised by Google. I don't know whether to feel abandoned or relieved. It's like an abusive stepfather abandoning the family. Sure he roughed you up every now and then... but still.... there were good times, like when he bought YouTube and you both stayed up all night watching TheWineKone.

Its going to be really awkward if we ever run into each other. But awkwardness can be fun, and that's what this blog is about. These are some of my most favoritest awkward moments of my life.

And yeah...most of them were in high school.

The Beginning
Me and Joe have been friends a long time. But we weren't always like that. We weren't always buds. Somewhere in high school I got it into my head that...hey...me and him....we're gonna befriend each other.

Now Joe is a lofty individual, which is strange cause he doesn't bring a whole lot to the table. It wasn't easy to become an acquaintance, never mind a friend.

Well, we were having a chat after school had let out. The chat ended, and he started walking home. And I thought to myself, this chat is far from over kiddo, and I went with him. In some small part of his brain, he was thinking "What the F?....." So we showed up at his house, and I introduced myself to his very confused mother. I had a glass of water, and then left to go home. Joe showed me out with a half puzzled/half angry look on his face. I said, "See ya later" and left. And the whole way home I'm thinking...oh yeah.....I'm in.

The Suitcase
It was a family reunion on my dad's side. And we all went to my Grandma's house. All of the adults were getting drunk and reminiscing in the backyard. All of the older cousins were playing cards. And all of the younger cousins were playing in the attic. I was about 15 at the time, and on the borderline of which group of cousins to hang out with.

I ultimately decided to be king of the little ones.

Somewhere along the line, as we were playing, one of the little ones, Frankie, climbed inside of a suitcase. And he started shouting for somebody to pull him around. Somehow I got the job.

As i was pulling him around the attic amongst peals of giggles, the little one decided to zipper himself up inside the suitcase. I have no idea how he did it.

At that moment, his dad (my uncle) came up the stairs. Eventually he followed the muffled sounds to the suitcase, and opened it. And when my uncle asked Frankie why he was in a suitcase, the little bastard pointed at me and said, "Rob put me in here!"

I can't wait for the next reunion.

The Elevator
Flash forward a while. Still in high school, and now me and Joe are best buddies. We even know each others last names now.

Sidenote: Readers, you will never know our last names cause we don't want you to find us and kill us in our sleep. No offense.

In our high school, there were two floors, and there was an elevator. This elevator was only supposed to be used by handicapped kids. But when there wasn't a teacher around, everybody used it.

Now me and Joe are gamboling about, as we do. School had just let out, and we were staying after for...some sort of club thing. Anyway, we decide to use the elevator. It was going down, and I say to Joe, "Hey, lets do ninja poses. It'll shock and amaze anyone standing outside the door." Well, that was my mistake. There was nobody standing there. We're fixed in most awesome ninja poses...the doors open.....and there's a girl in a wheelchair in front of us.

Our ninja poses slowly fall...there's a moment of silence, and then I say, "I am SO sorry."

To which she replied, "WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS SAY THAT?!"

Oh boy. "Quick Joe! Run for the stairs!"



Well, that's all I can think of.

Before this ends, I just want to put a quandary out there for you readers. Do you think Martin Luther King had a dream diary?

Byah!

Rob

LTS is now Ad Free!

So we broke it off with Google AdSense after receiving this email:

It has come to our attention that invalid clicks have been generated on
your Google ads, posing a financial risk to our AdWords advertisers.
Please note that any activity that may artificially inflate an
advertiser's costs or a publisher's earnings is strictly prohibited by
our program policies.

That wasn't the part that made us uncomfortable:

Lastly, please note that if we continue to detect invalid clicks on
your Google ads, we may take further action on your account in order to
protect our advertisers' interests. Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely,

The Google AdSense Team

Yikes! Rather than face judgement from the Google Mafia, we decided to just cut if off. Can't imagine why any clicks would be invalid. You all weren't interested in buying parasites, scoping out gay automotive accessories, or supporting Hillary's campaign?

Google has proved all knowing and all powerful, it's best not to poke the beast. BUT, if you know of anybody who's interested in advertising on our site for a very very minor fee, email ltsfts@gmail.com. We get like a billion hits a year- we'll make it worth your while.

Sincerely,

The LTS team

Lessons of Rob

This blog is a little blast from the past.

My sister is currently dredging through her college application process. And being the experienced collegiatoso that I am, I have been attempting to aid her. The big thing she is having trouble with has been her personal essays.

And with that in mind I started looking at my own college essays. One of them I still think is amusing. Here it is, titled simply: The Lessons of Rob

Lesson 1

Two people work at the same company. Harold scored 1600 on the SAT. Earl scored an 1120. Both are up for the same position as chief financial officer. Both Harold and Earl know that they need to impress the boss to be promoted. For the last two weeks both have been working hard.
They both see her at the copying machine. It isn't working and she looks frustrated.
Howard holds a minor in engineering from Harvard, and he immediately steps up. He starts explaining that perhaps the rollers were jammed, and proceeds to try to reroute the document. After several minutes with no success he admits failure and walks back to the cooler.
Earl then walks up and says it might be out of paper. Earl gets the job.
The Lesson: Knowledge should never overshadow sensibility.

Lesson 2

John is talking on a cell phone outside. Next to him there is a construction site. Across the street there is a park. He doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings as he is calling in about a very important merger. The man he called has a strong German accent and John is concentrating so as not to miss anything. He sees ducks are flying overhead. He pays no attention. The man is talking about Euros, and as John tries to convert the number into dollars, someone yells "DUCK!" John doesn't care about a flock of birds, so keeps walking.
A brick falls from the construction site. It lands on his cell phone and demolishes it. The German businessman is very upset by what happened and subsequently calls the merger off.
The Lesson: Grasp the big picture, but don't ignore the details.

Lesson 3

Fred is a realtor. He is persuasive, endearing, and successful. In school he did very well in business, legal affairs, and finance. However, he has never been skilled at calculus and trigonometry, and he never tried to improve his scores. He doesn't think of the subject as useful.
Fred is in trouble. A psycho has captured him and put him in a cell. And on the wall in big letters is:

You can leave if you answer this question

A train is leaving Cleveland at 66 miles per hour
at 4:30 and another train 400 miles away is leaving
Newark at 6:00. When will the two meet and at what
distance from Chicago? Chicago is 65 degrees north
of west from Newark. (HINT: Draw a picture)

Frank is in trouble.
The Lesson: Knowledge is never useless


Yes indeed, if you follow the Lessons of Rob, you can never go wrong. Of course, you wouldn't get into that particular college that I submitted this to.... but other than that, you're golden.

Most of the other essays were frivolous nonsense about how great a person I was (obviously a bit of a stretch to prove). One part I laughed at in particular was a section about an event when I was at an outdoors diabetes camp (sugar-free bug juice rocks!). I wrote about how I had helped one of the younger campers (a cute little tot named James) learn how to do an insulin injection all by himself, and about how James gave me a big hug before going home with his parents. ..... This was a lie. There was no James. I'm a bad man.

There were quite a few other essays to a multitude of colleges. And as I read them, I realize they're actually pretty good. They were appealing, endearing, and something more. They convey a depth of something. I wouldn't call it character, who are we kidding? But of something.

I've always had this hinting suspicion that I'm actually a very deep person. There's more than meets the eye here, and I'm not just talking about disproportionately strong calves. I'm talking about mental, man. I'm talking about a emotionally fragmented, spiritually attuned subconscious savant.

For example....sometimes...when I look in the mirror....I see myself.

Whoa right?

Whoa.

And I've always kind of thought that because I happen to be a decent writer. Not just this blog crap I do every now and then, and not just these essays. But other stuff. I've won literary awards. I've written some memorable short stories. I can prose like you wouldn't fucking believe.

But I realized today that I am not deep. Not at all.

What I am is an exceptional Bullshitter.



And James is doing quite well. We still write.



Byah!


Rob

Study of Life

I'm a Biology major. Biology, in case you didn't know, is the "study of life." It's the study of living creatures, the environment, and complex workings of anatomy. What you might not know is that a lot of studying life comes from cutting up dead things.

A lot.

You have no idea. Frogs and fetal pigs are just the beginning. Calves, chickens, rodents, sharks, squid, fish, more rodents, worms, insects, cats, and vegetarians (they really didn't want us hurting the animals, so we offered them a trade).

But today's story revolves around rats. I am currently in a class where we were learning about tapeworms two months ago. And two months ago we infected rats. Now, I don't know if you've ever grabbed a squirming inbred rat by the scruff of the neck, shoved a tube down it's throat (past large yellow teeth), and injected it with tapeworm larva....but it's a hoot and a half. I named my rat Marvin.

I named the tapeworm Phil.

I had almost completely forgotten about Marvin and Phil until last week when it was announced that we would be dissecting the rats and examining the tapeworms. And I was excited. Now you might be thinking that I seem very cold about all of this. I am about to dissect an animal that I had named Marvin! The problem is, you are under the false pretenses that I liked Marvin. I didn't. The plague-holding bastard bit me. Just because you call something a name doesn't mean you like them. I called my fifth grade teacher a name: Mrs. Alvalado. And she was a bitch. On Teacher Appreciation Day my mother had bought a plant for me to give to her. I threw it into the trash. No Chrysanthemums for you Mrs. Alvalado. No ma'am.

So basically the rat that I infected with a parasite is on the same level in my mind as my fifth grade teacher.

Well, I'm excited about the lab. I think it's fascinating really. Little freaky though, once I was there. The thing is, they had euthanized the rats that day, just a few hours before. Marvin was still warm.

I kept expecting it to jump back to life and attack. Course that didn't stop me from grabbing it by the front paws and singing "Hello my baby/Hello my honey/Hello my ragtime gaaaal."

I need help.

Anyway, I felt much better about the whole thing once I had removed Marvin's duodenum. Now the way the process worked was that basically you massage down the small intestine, and basically force out any tapeworms into a petri dish.

Now, everyone around me had worms.....everywhere! Worms OUT THE ASS!

I, on the other hand, had the misfortune to discover that Phil the Tapeworm could not take ahold in Marvin's digestive tract because Marvin was too badly constipated. Basically I got a petri dish of shit.

Poor Phil.


Byah!

Rob

Support Our Sponsors II

Before blogging, I would just like to say that we are honored to be sponsored by the noble benefactors of gaywheels.com. I find their changes to the crude and heterosexual automobile very practical. I happen to like the.... unique.... position of the stickshift. I'm intrigued by the milky complexion of the wiper fluid. And i find the horn very entertaining: it is not a boring honk but instead gives the acoustic version of a different Clay Aiken song every time.

So on behalf of the writers here, I would just like to say that we would never discredit our sponsors. They are all fabulous!

Having said that, I think we should have a look at some of our more recent sponsors. As regular readers know, we are subscribed to an ad company through Google in some complex contract that I had nothing to do with. The ads are chosen based on our blogs. They pick up on some key words, and some ad is automatically associated with it.

Fact Number One: These companies have no idea who we are and did not choose to be associated with us.
Fact Number Two: We have no say which companies are advertised here
Fact Number Three: I have a huge penis

OK, so lets take a look at some more of our sponsors.

New 2007 Sinful Clothing: Largest Collection Online. Free S/H
Yes, this catalog has been updated every year.
It all started with the 30 AD Whore of Babylon Collection. "You're not going out dressed like that! Next thing you know you'll be following that Jesus fellow around."
And who could forget the 1634 Puritan Hussy Ensemble. "That's right, Goodwife, buckle me hard. That's right, show those ankles."
But now it's 2007. And you don't even want to know what the new sinful clothing is. But it does come with free S/M. Oh, I mean free S/H. Or do I?

Top 7 China Stock Tips
Rice, rice, rice, rice, rice, rice, and Jackie Chan movies.

Alliums for Sale: Fresh from Holland
I don't know what an Allium is. But apparently they're fresh from Holland. Maybe they mixed up and meant Austria. I would like an Allium from Austria. Is Holland close to Austria? I don't think so, but it's close enough that if I was playing Risk and wanted the whole European bonus, I would need both.

Traveller's Home Insurance: Understand Your Risks
This doesn't seem to out of the ordinary just by itself. But you have to realize the context. This was the sponsor for a blog titled "Questions." For those who haven't read it, it consists of some of the choiciest stories of my life that involve humorous, sometimes awkward, and oftentimes public instances of urination. Yes, they're peeing stories. My peeing stories are endorsed by Traveller's Home Insurance. Damn right I understand my risks.

Gypsy Halloween Costumes
The point of Halloween is to wander around to people who have homes, asking for food, perhaps doing a trick or to, and then being driven off. You don't need a costume. They are already gypsies.
This actually does remind me of something else though. I have mentioned before that I have a friend named "Stu." He has decided to study abroad the upcoming semester in Switzerland (I wonder why he picked that locale). But somehow he has discovered that local authorities look the other way if you want to beat up a gypsy after they try to rob you. So he is very excited to put an empty wallet in his pocket in the hopes of catching a Romanian, and then beating the hell out of him/her (he doesn't care). Too bad he didn't know a bunch of people in gypsy costumes were gonna be out and about on Halloween. He could have practiced.

Anyway, I think that's about it. But you should definitely click on some of those sponsors. Very good stuff.

That was a lie.

It's rubbish.

But it'll make me rich.

Do it!

Byah!

-Rob

Long Story Short

Alright, loyal readers, I must apologize as to our relative blogging silence as of late. I swear its mostly Joe's fault.

I actually have an excuse. And it all started with a Macaroni and Cheese recipe. Now, I am something of a connoisseur of Macaroni and Cheese. I like to experiment. Toss some hot dogs right in the mix. Throw some garlic and oregano in there. Put ketchup in

Sidenote Regarding Ketchup in Macaroni and Cheese: According to my research half of America enjoys this, and the other half are morally appalled by the idea. Its delicious.

But recently I have taken to putting tuna fish into my Mac and Cheese. I find it delightful. My mother found out about this trend, and was extremely worried about my mercury intake.

Let's just say that my mom has from the beginning taken a very direct approach to my health. Here is a brief story. I happen to be a diabetic, a fairly boring disease in the grand scheme of things, it just needs pretty constant management, and my mother liked to be in control. She always went crazy when I thought my blood sugar was high or low. So I was in 6th grade, and was taking at the time what I thought was a major math test. The test was about to start, I had several #2 pencils in line in front of me, I was set to go. All of a sudden the intercom buzzes on, saying that I needed to report to the nurse's station IMMEDIATELY. Now, I'm worried. Maybe my insulin was faulty. Maybe someone had slipped chocolate milk into my skim milk. The horrors man, the horrors. So, I breathlessly show up to the nurse's station. Turns out....my mother had called in.....because she felt like she had a low blood sugar.....and so she figured that I must have a low blood sugar.......I'll let that sink in.....Unknown to the scientific community, my mother had a telepathic connection to my pancreas.

OK, back to the reason why I haven't been blogging. I'm eating tuna fish with my Mac and Cheese. And my mom is worried about mercury intake. I'm home for the weekend, and she buys me six cans of tuna and tells me, "Now, this is all the tuna you will eat this month. No more." I shrug and say fine.

Now, when I go home, the only luggage I bring with me is my mesh laundry bag. Yes, I spend forty bucks on gas to save $3.75 on laundry money. Do you know how hard it is to find quarters! Anyway, so I put the cans of tuna in my bag on top of neatly folded khakis.

It was a rather uneventful ride back. I drive up to my apartment. Stretch. Scratch. Open the trunk. And inside I find that somehow during the trip the edge of one of the tuna cans caught on the mesh, and ripped my laundry bag! Quite severely actually. My neatly folded khakis! Ruined!

So now I have no storage facility for my dirty laundry, which has slowly accumulated on my bedroom floor. It is about a week after I got home that I was cooking up some Mac n' Cheese con Tuna (can number two, I'm getting sick of it actually). And I thought to myself, I would like some skim milk with this delicacy, so I get a glass brimming with watered down milk. I stride into my room intent on watching some sitcoms on their network websites

Sidenote: Being able to watch those shows online when you miss them might be the greatest thing ever. But it's losing its appeal. It used to be, that for every ten minutes of show, you watch 30 seconds of commercials. A good deal when compared to actual TV. But I was watching an NBC show...the commercial finished...and all of a sudden ANOTHER ONE came on. I don't know what they're getting at, but I conveniently forget to watch regularly scheduled programming so I don't have to deal with multiple commercials. Don't mess with me NBC.

Anyway, so I walk into my room carrying food and milk and stride towards the laptop. All of a sudden I trip on a pair of khakis in the middle of the room. I feel my momentum swing forward and I drop my milk to stop my fall. As if in slow motion, I see a great wave of white cascade on my computer (and not in the normal way). It canvased the whole thing, and for a brief second I thought it was OK. And then my screen kinda went "F you", flickered, and vanished.

So now my laptop is being serviced, thus my lack of recent blogs. I'm actually writing this on Joe's computer, and I must say his internet history over the past two weeks seem to favor redheads.

Anyway, long story short, I blame my mom.



Byah!

Rob