Atlas
Remember a few weeks back when the dork homeland security people were telling us to look out for guys carrying atlases?
I don't think I shared this with you, dear reader, but one weekend morning right after this announcement Mrs. Robot went to the bagel shoppe to get us bagels. On the way home, she saw this smart-ass white guy walking down the street with an atlas and an obviously fake mustache.

Kudos to the atlas man.



Bridge
As we were driving to pick up our pal Reba in our holiday rental car, we passed under one of those bridges before you get to Williamsburg on the BQE. Some of those neighborhoods south of Williamsburg are home to Hasidic folk, and whenever you drive down the BQE in certain areas, you can look up at the bridges crossing the BQE and see Hasidic guys walking to and fro (the BQE bisects their neighborhood).

Mrs. Robot said, "those Hasidic guys sure like to walk across bridges". We then decided that we would add that to our list of fake generalizations about groups of people.

"you bring some of those Hasidic guys over here and they will walk back and fourth across any old bridge"



FMH
My last Mrs. Robot story/comment (oh, I love her so) is when she told me that she has renamed the magazine FMH to "Celebrity's Last Chance".
Classic.



Big Cats in the News II
Well, last week we had another cougar attack (they go for your neck and then drag you off by your head... like everytime). Then we have some tard jump into the lion den to play with them and talk about jeebus.

Interesting how the news media covered this...
Headlines:
BBC: Man survives leap into lion's den

NBC4 in OHIO: Man Survives Lion Attack At Zoo

Lets see here.. Man Survives Lion Attack At Zoo. Well, that is kind of true, but let's be honest, it makes it sound like El Tard was walking around the zoo and was suddenly attacked by a lion. This headline doesn't give you any indication that the man climbed into the Lion's pen.
So, please, Americans, when going to zoos, please make sure you look out for attacking lions.


"He jumped into the lion's pen, and when the lions didn't react, he took off his jacket and egged them on," said Mr Rivolta. "It was an act of madness."



It's all about the internet, baby!
My brother has this laptop that runs the unfortunate Windows ME operating system. I think "ME" is short for 'laME" or "MEssed the f*ck up" or "we just needed to Make a nEw opertating system"
So, he had problems with it, and I was trying to help via the phone which I speak into with my mouth, and came across the random ME page on the MS site (all these initials).
I quote:

"If you are familiar with the expression, 'It's all about the Internet, baby,' then you are going to appreciate what Windows Me offers: the best way to browse your favorite Web sites, send e-mail, chat, and stay in touch with the world around you."


Dear Microsoft,
I am really not familiar with the expression "It's all about the Internet, baby", which is odd being that I work in the internet.
On internet type things.
Is this some Pacific Northwest thing that you folks say?

Curious,
Senor El Roboto Sans Pantos




Real Life Brain Audit
A few months ago, I did an audit of my brain activity, and I realized that I glossed over a lot of the real things that go on.
Imagine if you will, that you ran that Task Manager thing on my brain. You'd see that whole unconscious application running at around 2 or 3 percent. It's a small application that is constantly running.
The tasks being run by this application would be:

Check for ceiling leaks
Look around
Check for wallet
Check for wedding band
Check that any items I am carrying, I am still carrying
Pretty girl
Squirm
Fidget



Seriously, ceilings
No, really. Ceilings. I am retarded about ceilings. I once had a leak in the ceiling of an apartment and I swear ever since then I look up.
Often.




Late
This morning I was late getting to the ol' workplace. It happens that if Mrs. Robot wakes up before me, it screws my sleeping, snooze alarm system up.
So, I am really late, and then after waiting 10 minutes on the train platform a train finally rolls in packed to the proverbial gills which forces me to wait for the next one.
I run into our pal Erin and she and I ride in together which brings me to this: You are know you are late when you mention that you are late, and your pal looks at her watch and says, "yea, if you were supposed to be there at 10, you are pretty late" and then you have to remind her, "no I was supposed to be there at 9"
Late.
I was.



aw, how sweet

They're friends.


I imagine the guy is saying, "I love you Roary"







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›1/14/2004
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