Standing the Test of Time

>> 01 December 2011

So, back in the day when my buddies and I used to karaoke Beastie Boys on our Friday nights, we decided to do a music video for (what we thought at the time, but was later disproved by our Beasties' Bracket) the greatest Beastie Boys' song, "So Whatcha' Want." One segment preceding the actual video involved each of us telling a terribly horrible joke. I don't know why we thought this would be a good prologue, but we did it.

My buddy J2K's joke was: "Why was the tomato blushing?"

Answer: "Because it saw the salad dressing." BOOM.

Today in class, a classmate gives me some Laffy Taffy's, I open it, eat it, and then think to myself "I wonder what the Laffy Taffy jokes are like these days."

The picture quality is poor, but it says "Why was the tomato blushing?"

11 years later, I text J2K with that question, and the reply: "Ah man cuz it saw the salad dressing."

Some humor is timeless.

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The Family Name

>> 20 November 2011

Well, Mrs. RoSA is pregnant with baby RoSA, and we found out this past week the little dude is going to be a boy. What a relief.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm excited for when I have a little girl, but the relief part selfishly comes from the fact that because my father was the only son in his family, and I am the only son in mine, all of the pressure was on me to carry on my family's name. This, however, has provided no resolution to the problem and has left me feeling slightly guilty, as I am really only passing the same pressure I felt -- having the family name continue -- on to my son.

Is this what the federal government feels like when they continue to pass on the burden and pressure of our massive federal deficit to the next generation? My guess is "probably not."

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Had to Blog it

>> 11 October 2011



Wear your helmets, kids.

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Apparently, I'm the Nic Cage Guy Now? Awesome.

>> 03 October 2011

Thanks to my unabashed and -- by unanimous consensus, unhealthy -- lust for things such as bacon and root beer, friends and family often kindly go out of their way to pass on interesting news stories about said topics... or, when they are feeling particularly generous, to buy me associated products. Off the top of my head, I can think of many items given to me: a bacon chocolate bar (consumed with a quizzical, yet satisfied, look on my face); membership to a Root Beer of the Month Club (the only thing I looked forward to for three months straight); random obscure root beers from distant lands (consumed with gratitude); a bacon air freshener (presently stinking up my car); a bacon-bits-topped chocolate muffin (surprisingly good); and, gummy candy that looked uncannily like bacon. You get the idea: There are advantages to publicizing what you like.

I'm afraid, however, that my thorough and accurate analysis from a while back about Mr. Nic Cage and the trajectory of his career (disclaimer: I realize "downward spiral" may not technically be a trajectory for you physics nerds, but deal with it) may have conveyed that I want to know everything I can about the guy.

First, there was an article that Google News somehow inferred that I wanted to read about him while he is out promoting his new movie, in which he shared his own personal experience with home invasion. I will only paste an excerpt:

"It was two in the morning. I was living in Orange County at the time and was asleep with my wife. My two-year old at the time was in another room. I opened my eyes and there was a naked man wearing my leather jacket eating a Fudgesicle in front of my bed," he told reporters on Wednesday.

"I know it sounds funny ... but it was horrifying."

A Fudgesicle is a frozen, ice cream-like snack.

 (Reuters seeing fit to explain what a fudgesicle is is probably the best part of the article.)

Anyway, yesterday, I got this email from my sister about a man who found an 1870s photograph of a Nic Cage doppelganger. The email simply said, "This made me think of you." Behold the photo:



Give him a Hawaiian shirt and some longer, dishevelled hair, and you have Raising Arizona
I'm all about old photos, but you have to admit that 1870s photography didn't quite capture the crazy of Nic Cage like modern film does. I present to the jury Exhibit A & B and rest my case:


Anyway, apparently I am not only "The Bacon Guy" and "The Root Beer Guy" -- appellations I am very proud of -- but I am now also "The Nic Cage Guy." The only time I felt more misunderstood was when a Japanese man heard me speaking my 4-month old Japanese and asked "Anata wa seishinbyo ja nai*?"

*You're retarded, right?

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Greek Cultures

>> 13 August 2011

I need someone to please explain to me how the Greeks are in financial trouble. Have you seen how much they're selling their yogurt for? I was in the grocery store and was appalled. They've gotta be making a KILLING.

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Why Did We Ever Learn Cursive?

>> 16 June 2011

Took the GRE on Tuesday -- I'm excited about the future opportunities this will allow me to have; but mostly, I'm just that it's over and I can go back to doing things I enjoy (reading, blogging, nothing) without feeling guilty that I'm not cramming worthless words into my brain that I will never use in a normal conversation.

They're quite strict about admission to these tests (understandably), but all the signed forms and presenting of IDs and having my mugshot taken made it feel like I was being granted access to Area 51.

Oddly enough, perhaps the most formidable challenge to my success on the exam came before it even started. I had to fill out a form on which I gave my agreement to not disclose details about the test and say I understood the testing rules. I then had to copy down an entire paragraph, verbatim,to verify that I understood the agreement. In cursive. When was the last time you wrote in cursive? I have no recollection of the last time I wrote in this archaic script. I'm pretty sure I looked like I had arthritic hands as I unnaturally and uncomfortably fumbled my way through writing an entire paragraph in cursive English. The end product probably looked like a drunk 3-year old's attempt at writing a statement. I'm surprised they admitted me to take the exam, but I suppose they took some pity on me since I did pay them $160 to take it.

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Bonnie, Bonnie Scotland

>> 15 May 2011

Mrs. RoSA and I are recently returned from a 10-day trek to Scotland. It has always been at the top of my Top 5 Countries to Visit List, and it did not disappoint. In fact, it greatly surpassed all of my highly-inflated expectations of seeing rugged green mountains with beautiful lochs, centuries-old castles, and historical sites.

All of my expectations prior to going could really be distilled down to this video clip:


Essentially, I wanted my Scotland experience to be me scampering up rocky cliffs in the Highlands, shaggy and overgrown hair blowing in the wind, claymore broadsword strapped to my back, bagpipe music playing as my soundtrack. This led me to demand of Mrs. RoSA that she not only learn to play the bagpipes, but that she learn to play them whilst running behind me, minstrel-like, as I scampered up cliffs. Here's an approximation of how the dialogue ensued:

Mrs. RoSA: Josh, I don't think I have the lung capacity to simultaneously play the bagpipes AND scale mountains; in fact, I'm pretty sure I would pass out.
Me: Isn't this one of those things we implicitly agreed upon when we got married?
Mrs. RoSA: Eyeroll.* I'll consider it if you wear a kilt.

I think we eventually settled on listening to the Braveheart soundtrack on our iPods while running up the Highland mountains. Technology makes things easier.

*When we're chatting on Gmail, Mrs. RoSA actually types out her eyerolls.

I will leave you with a few photos of my choosing from the trip. I have to add that the frustrating thing with Scotland is that the natural beauty is on such a scale that it was difficult to recapture. This, of course, had me blaming my camera, my lenses, and the brightness of the sun -- basically everything but my own lack of photographic acumen (As you can tell, I'm more of a blame others, "shoot the messenger"-type of guy).

1) The Table, part of the Quiraing -- an awe-inspring group of eroded basalt cliffs on the Isle of Skye. The most beautiful natural scenery I have ever seen:
2) Edinburgh Castle -- A huge castle built out of a black, volcanic rock overlooking the city:

3) The Lost Valley -- We took a steep hike up between two of the Three Sisters...mountains near Glencoe. In between these two mountains is 800-yards worth of flat valley where clans used to store stolen sheep. Unfortunately, this picture doesn't capture the scale of the valley. Stupid camera...

To read about our trip in more detail and to check out some pictures, you can check out our blog, The Rogue and the Fury, here.

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Dispatches from the Political Warzone

>> 17 April 2011

Being the educated readers that you are (a recent survey found that the average education level of RoSA readers was a dual MD/PhD -- so if you haven't educated yourself to that level, my sarcastic "thanks" for dragging down the average) you probably know something about the political struggles taking place in our nation's capital. It turns out that our sleepy little neighborhood in suburban northern Virginia is in the midst of a similar upheaval. Political machinations are afoot at The Compound. See exhibit A, a two-sided letter slipped under my door sometime in the middle of the night:

 
Basically, what I can discern from this is that a new, power-hungry "Coalition" of owners is trying to seize power from the incumbent Board Members of the Compound, and the incumbents (the people who left this note under my door) are trying to rally support to their cause with a mostly pointless letter with fear-mongering phrases like "checkmate," "smug with power," and "hidden agendas." (To their credit, the math lesson of 459 minus 40 equaling 419 was educational and enlightening. Thank you, Letter Writers, for the crash course in advanced subtraction)

Yes, my friends, the Compound -- which I half-jokingly view as the homeowners' association equivalent of something between a debtors' prison and Fascist Italy -- is apparently in the midst of a legitimate coup d'état and possible revolution: think Napolean in 1799, Iran in 1953/1979, or Chile in 1973. Although, admittedly, you wouldn't know it by looking outside. Just a bunch of nice-looking old folks out walking and enjoying the spring weather.

This felt like a Taliban night letter had been delivered to my door while I was sleeping. I admit that the letter contains no explicitly-stated threats, but were there implied ones if I don't do what the letter-writers want me to? Are my kneecaps going to get broken? Am I going to get beat up and thrown down our garbage chute (which is totally fine with the Compund rules so long as it doesn't happen between 10PM and 7AM) if I don't comply?

I enjoy watching the chess game of political maneuvering take place between countries, but having it so close to home is kind of exhilarating. I can only hope that this feud culminates into some sort of Machiavellian bloodbath and Mrs. RoSA and I get to spectate as these idiots tear each other apart a la the battle at the OK Corral. Viva la Revolucion, everyone (maybe)??

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Reasons to Visit Utah

>> 13 April 2011

I suppose one could speculate that the real reasons we went were to visit a new nephew, see family, see the awesome mountains, and eat some, in my opinion, overrated Cafe Rio (<-- Mrs. RoSA will kill me if she sees this) -- and those were our stated objectives -- but that person would be wrong. I was there to eat the best chips in the world:


...and to drink the best root beer in the world:

...and then to procure and bring them home in ridiculous enough quantities that security at the airport wants to look in your bags and confirm that, yes, all those large bags they saw in your carry-ons are actually full of chips. I can't blame them, really, as three large, "party size" bags of any kind of chips are anomalous enough to raise suspicion.

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Denny's Drunken Party

>> 01 April 2011

Well, this picture came in from White Josh earlier this week:

Yes, some marketing nerd at Denny's is currently patting himself on the back in self-congratulation for his play on "bacchanalia." Unfortunately for him -- and by extension, Denny's -- I'm afraid that the wit of his wordplay will probably be lost on the intended audience, as I don't think the vast majority of Denny's customers are familiar enough with Roman history / mythology to know what bacchanalia were. Unfortunately for me, I do know what bacchanalia are, and linking Denny's and its customers with the drunken, debauchery-filled Roman orgies called "bacchanalia" is perhaps the last thing I ever want to imagine. Ever.

This is more the image I associate with Denny's:



And these are the follow-up images of the menu that Josh sent. Behold, the overuse of bacon:


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DOOM Goes the Dynamite

>> 25 March 2011

Did anyone play the first-person shooter "DOOM" growing up? Because I think this guy did. 400 rounds. 17 grenades. 1 mine. 30 enemies fended off. All in a days work.

Instead of a chainsaw, though, this guy attempted to use a sandbag, and then his gun tripod. I kept reading and hoping that there would be mention of the BFG somewhere in there. No such luck.

Regardless, what a stud.


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March Laziness, or Procrastination

>> 20 March 2011

Every year around February, I always tell myself I will start following college basketball so that I can be prepared for March Madness. It never happens.

Every year, the week before the Madness starts, I always tell myself I'll do some research so I can give myself a puncher's chance in my friends' bracket. That never happens, either.

So the night before/day of the tournament, I throw together my bracket -- basing it on how the teams did last year -- and hope that history repeats itself... which it never does, because, as is hinted at in its name, the tournament is madness, pandemonium, and chaos.

The result is that I am always somewhere in the middle of my bracket challenge. I have grown used to mediocrity, but that's fine because the games are still fun to watch.

Slightly related endnote. I thought the following headline on ESPN.com from Saturday was lame: If Florida (2-seed) is ranked higher than UCLA (7-seed), what is informative about a headline that says the better team will be a "tough" opponent for the lower-ranked team?

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Why I Worry When Work Meetings Go Long

>> 15 March 2011

Mrs. RoSA tends to worry a little bit when I am incommunicado. Have a listen to the most recent voicemail:



Wife-mandated caveat: She is not crazy -- her mind just tends to drift towards worst-case scenarios, is all.

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Photo of the Week -- The Ol' Mid-Haircut Stab Haircut 14 Mar 2011

>> 14 March 2011

This has to be one of the greater mugshots ever:

From Mediaite, this man, named David Davis (sounds like his parents put a lot of thought and creativity into naming him), was:
"...getting his haircut when he was approached by a man he had previously been arguing with. Davis claims that he feared for his safety, so he slashed the guy with a pair of scissors. Police later arrested him and he was charged with first-degree assault. He didn’t, however, get to finish his haircut..."
Yup. That. just. happened.

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6 Unsolicited Observations on LotR

>> 10 March 2011

Ever since Mrs. RoSA bought me The Hobbit for my birthday and I devoured -- I kid you not, I literally ate the book -- in three days, I have been revisiting the movies a little bit at a time over the last few weeks. They are as good as ever. Some opinions/immutable truths:

1) Fellowship is still the best of the three, and I challenge anyone to convince me otherwise. Sean Bean (Boromir) and Ian McKellan (Gandalf) are amazing.
My boy Sean steals the show -- and also makes an attempt at the Ring

2) They should make special edition Blu-Rays that have a "Frodo & Sam Scene" filter. My tolerance for hobbits longingly staring at each other is very low -- last I checked, it was 0 -- so I essentially skip all of their scenes in The Two Towers and The Return of the King now. The movies are much shorter that way, anyway.

3) In cinematic history, has there been a more worthless protagonist than Frodo? I challenge the readers to present me with one (I'm throwing down all kinds of gauntlets...I must be feeling particularly belligerent today), because I am hard-pressed to think of a character that has contributed less to the success of a mission than Frodo Baggins of the Shire.* I've never seen a protagonist so quickly and so completely plummet from "well, he's not very useful, but at least he tries hard" (Fellowship) to "good grief -- watching Frodo's disintegration into pathetic worthlessness is like the Middle Earth metaphor for Lindsay Lohan's personal life" (Two Towers and Return). Literally, there is a scene in The Return of the King when he is collapsed on the mountain-side, looks up as if he is going to do something compelling, crawls on all fours for one, maybe two feet, then collapses in a pitiful heap.**

I guess a testament to the quality of these movie-making is that I despise the protagonist so much yet still love the movies.

*Bumbling idiots like Inspector Closeau in The Pink Panther do not count as candidates here, because the whole point of those movies is that they are bumbling idiots that just happen to succeed.

**I just Googled "Worthless Movie Protagonists" and nothing of value showed up. We can do this, people!

4) I do a killer Gimli impression. But only of him yelling. So basically my impersonation repertoire has been expanded from "Bruce Lee with Sunglasses" to "Bruce Lee with Sunglasses" and "Yelling Dwarf." The audition calls for acting roles should start pouring in now.

5) Because I never saw Fellowship in the theater, I'm constantly asking Mrs. RoSA how the audience responded to certain scenes in the film. I think she's getting sick of saying "yes, Josh, everyone was balling when Gandalf fell off the bridge," as she watches me wipe my eyes yet again.

6) Speaking of that scene of Gandalf falling, how about that expression on Aragorn's face (see below)? This is less the look of someone thinking "Man...my boy Gandalf just plunged to his death" and more the look of "Oh shiz. That means I'm in charge, doesn't it?"

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The Dilemma of My Blog

>> 07 March 2011

For those of you who follow the blog (ie my five family members and friends that are bored at work), you may have noticed I have not been blogging as of late. I've been having an existential crisis, blog-wise, and have been thinking about the purpose and opportunity cost of RoSA. (I actually don't know what 'opportunity cost' means, but I'm hoping I guessed correctly.)

You all know that I love writing. The process is an enjoyably challenging puzzle of creation to me: to observe, to take scattered and unformed thoughts and make them coherent, to take seemingly disparate thoughts and to synthesize them, to refine sentences in order to achieve precision... Oh yes, I can't forget to add my personal favorite: "to make ridiculously outlandish comparisons to prove an irrelevant point."

In addition, the continual practice of writing has yielded tangible results: improved writing, where I've learned what works, what doesn't work, and why through the proces; and the forum to chronicle and document the things that happen in my life. These reasons are all part of the writing puzzle that make it fun and fulfilling.

These are also, for better or worse, the same reasons that make the writing puzzle so frustrating -- like the 1000-piece puzzle of pure blue sky I tried to put together as a kid (<-- completely fabricated for illustrative purposes). Doing all of those things that I just gushed about like a teenage girl -- and to do them well -- require thought and time. Both are premium and limited resources for anybody. This created a dilemma with the blog that I have struggled with and tried to balance for three and a half years: Because I will not get paid to write what I like, I cannot commit the time and attention to writing that I would like to. It will always be a lower priority. Unfortunately, writing that I am willing to "publish" for public consumption requires time. But if I wait to publish something I'm completely satisfied with, nothing will ever get written, because I cannot allocate the required time to write. And if I don't continue writing, then there will be attrition. It's a cycle; and a vicious one at that. I can sort of see why Hemingway went with the shotgun.

The conclusion and compromise I reached over the years was that I would have to force myself to write, even if I wasn't completely satisfied with what I wrote all of the time. So I did weekly entries that required deadlines, such as PotW and the Weekly Highlights. These self-imposed due dates compelled me to write, which was good in some ways because it kept me writing and observant... but they were bad in other ways because the same entries often forced me to put stuff out that was "meh," simply because the next day was my artificial deadline of Monday or Thursday. (Reference the last few Weekly Highlights. I've felt like a monkey flinging crap against the wall -- little thought was involved, and very little stuck to the wall)

So I have been frustrated with my lack of time to commit to writing. Where does this leave RoSA? I have no idea. To give up writing is not the solution, obviously. We shall see how this unfolds.

As a partial solution, perhaps, I will be contributing to our family blog with Mrs. RoSA here (made private at Mrs. RoSA's request). First entry should be out this week.

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Photo of the Week -- The Origin of Fear? 21 Feb 2011

>> 21 February 2011

We're all familiar with my well-documented fear of clowns. The dudes just creep me out. I have accepted the fact, gone through therapy, and tried to not let it control my life. That's why, as I was digging through photos of my childhood I was initially surprised to find this gem from a long time ago:

That's right. I dressed as a clown -- the very thing I still wet my pants about upon even hearing the mention of -- for Halloween one year. Which leads me to asking: I wonder what the origins of my fear of clowns were, and when it started? Obviously it was after the day this picture was taken... otherwise my chubby little Japanese face would have been twisted in an expression of inconsolable fear immediately upon seeing my own reflection. Perhaps I don't want to delve into this. It could turn into a Bourne-like scenario where I find out crazy things about my past that were better left buried.


And of all coincidences, I was studying GRE vocabulary words yesterday and here is the example sentence for the word "engender". THIS IS VERBATIM: "His fear and hatred of clowns was engendered when he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a clown."

I realize children aren't studying for these standardized tests, but this is a demented example sentence. Is this a sign I should just forget about some sort of further education? I mean, am I going to be physically assaulted by a clown whilst taking the GRE? Help?

Happy Monday. I'll be busy quelling paranoia about a clown attack.

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Weekly Selects #48

>> 17 February 2011

Fairly slow week, but let's do this:

-Via Email from Lexi, sending me a link to a page titled "Top Ten Most Useless Products Ever" -- my personal favorite was the Wearable Dog House:
I'm happy to say that a Japanese product made the list. Frankly, I would have been shocked if it were otherwise. What I'm sad about is that American society has reached the extent of laziness where we encourage the laziness of our pets. I guess asking your dog to, um, walk, while you go on a walk with him is asking too much of him.

-Via Google Reader Share, perhaps the biggest pair of endearingly nerdy losers:

(Please disregard that both males happen to be Asian)

-Via Email from Case:
I didn't read this, I just saw "Japan" and "Strange" and thought you might be interested.
Well, I didn't read it either -- mostly out of pride. If Case didn't read it, why should I? (This is why I need to hire a screener of the content sent to me). I browsed the photos and it might be worth checking out if you're planning a trip to the Land of the Rising Sun anytime soon...it's an article about "13 of Japan’s Most Strangely Stylish Hotels"

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Photo of the Week -- The Hobbit is Coming 14 Feb 2011

>> 15 February 2011

Well, as part of my "reclamation" (yes, I'm a project and always will be) as an "uncultured and unrefined philistine", I am watching the BBC mini-series North & South with Mrs. RoSA. (All quotations are approximations and/or completely fabricated) I pointed out somewhere between my incessant snide remarks and sleeping that the dude playing Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) has an awesome voice, and Mrs. RoSA replied "Yes. He'll make a mighty Thorin."

Agreed. Mr. Armitage will be playing the lead dwarf, Thorin, in The Hobbit that is currently in production.
I recently re-read the book -- the first time since my illiterate days of childhood* -- and it was awesome. The Lord of Rings trilogy is one of my favorites, but The Hobbit is much more a display of Tolkien's wit and light-heartedness. There's just not as much (ie the end of the world) at stake and it's a fun read. (Plus I don't foresee any longing and uncomfortable stares shared between Bilbo and any of the dwarves, a la Frodo and Sam fjwionav... [<-- Sorry, I just shuddered], so that's an added bonus for anyone who found those scenes in Return of the King unbearable. That, and Bilbo won't be a worthless protagonist like Frodo. What a loser) And with 13 dwarves, that will be a lot of facial hair floating around in each scene. Awesome.

*The recently revealed family story is that, because I didn't read as much as my sisters who always had their noses buried in books, Shigeko thought I was more or less an illiterate teenager. So apparently she pulled my oldest sister Jen aside and asked her to get me reading so I wouldn't end up eating out of a dumpster for the rest of my life. Jen's book of choice was The Hobbit.

Happy (late) Monday to you. I was busy buying flowers and chocolates and dinner for the Mrs.

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Weekly Selects #47

>> 10 February 2011

Weekly Selects again. Let's. Do. This.

--Via Email from Saree, an article about the Chinese air force:
Chinese air force drill looks awfully similar to ‘Top Gun’


Basically, to make a live exercise look good, the Chinese stole footage from Top Gun. I can't say I'm all that surprised -- the Chinese virtually steal all of their technology anyway, so stealing movie footage just seems a matter of course. But if you're going to steal from a movie about fighter planes, why settle on something from the 80's? Why not a more modern one, like Stealth? Case, any rebuttals?

--Via Google Reader. We all know I love the new Batman movies, so this comic was just too funny:

(from here)
And lastly...

--Via email from Jay, about a BYU student who wrote in to the school's newspaper (The Daily Universe) to complain about the campus-wide mania surrounding Jimmer Fredette, star basketball player, and did the foolish thing of 1) writing in under her full name, and 2) posting about it on her publicly-viewable Facebook account. Her Facebook Wall has now been bombarded (quite hilariously):
So, first off, The Daily Universe is in the running for "Printed Materials That Are Most Painful to Read," alongside the chapter on STDs for my college health class (pictures included!), and anything written by Stephanie Meyer. It's just awful. But that's not really the point. More to the point: writing into the BYU school newspaper and saying you don't want to hear about the school's latest sports star is like living in the Soviet Union and writing into Pravda to say you're sick of hearing all this crap about Lenin. Do you have the right to your opinion? Absolutely. Do you have the right to express it? Absolutely. Should you? Now that's a different question altogether, and this girl's FB Wall is evidence of that.

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How Lazy am I?

>> 08 February 2011

I often ask myself this question, and because the answer is unfailingly something along the lines of "really, " "quite," or "disappointingly so," I am rarely surprised by what I find. I'm a dude. I'm lazy. It is a law of physics.

Yesterday, however, I shocked even myself when I discovered the extent of my laziness.

Mrs. RoSA likes her soap dispensers. Something about liking things that "smell nice" and hygiene. And other stuff that I don't care about.

As I washed my hands yesterday, I realized that I liked the foam soap dispensers that we have much more than the liquid ones that we have, and the reason was quite simple (and, frankly, pathetic): the foam soap is already a lather and requires no effort to feel like I've washed my hands; liquid soap, on the other hand, requires that you scrub your hands together, and heaven forbid I be forced to exert myself in any way in the name of proper hygiene.

Anybody find themselves in a similar, if not the same, Lazy Camp as me? Please share so I'm not stuck on my couch eating a bag of Cheetos with my gut exposed whilst it hangs over my sweatpants all by myself. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

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Stranded -- Photo of the Week 7 Feb 2011

>> 07 February 2011


So, there have been some snowstorms sweeping the nation as of late. I was most impressed by this photo:

(Source: E. Jason Wambsgans, Chicago Tribune)  
We had a pretty bad storm out in the DC area a week and a half ago that absolutely crippled traffic around here. Work the morning after was like listening to a bunch of war stories: "It took me 7 hours to get home..." "...It took me 11 hours to get home." "I had to abandon my car and walk the three miles home..." "...I had to cannibalize my rugby teammates in order to survive" etc etc. It was stunning how much the roadways shut down around here; my commute home made me feel both lucky and a slight tinge of survivors' remorse (it only took me 45 minutes). But really, I think it was just the Man upstairs looking out for me -- knowing my impatience with traffic, if I were stuck for that long, I probably would have become very, very angry.

Happy Monday to you, folks. And if you're wondering, I still have not bought a snowshovel.

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Weekly Selects #46

>> 03 February 2011

--Via Email from Sister Jen, an article for all the vegetarians:
my kind of gateway drug (click here for article)
The esteem in which bacon is held can grow no larger, as apparently it serves as the gateway meat through which vegetarians transform from being conscientious abstainers to maniacally tracking, killing, and skinning their own meat and then eating it raw (all of this done, of course, with blood-shot eyes and a frothing mouth).
Why Xena? I have no idea. It was the best picture I could find. 

--Via Email from Josh M:
And I thought the Japanese were nuts...
Yes, there is a restaurant in Taiwan that is toilet-themed. What do I mean by toilet-themed? Here's an excerpt:
In the beginning, we mainly sold ice cream – a big pile of chocolate ice cream sold in containers shaped like a squat toilet.
It is really quite disgusting, actually, and I hope that when China invades Taiwan they launch at least 20 of the 20,000 short-range missiles that they have aimed at the small island-nation at this restaurant. It's all I ask.

Coincidentally, Kate sent me this very amusing article of the 10 Weirdest Restaurants Around the World. It really is worth checking out.


--Via Email from JMill:
This may be one of my favorite videos of all time
Hopefully it works for you. I don't know why this is so funny, but it is.


--Via IM from Josh M (click here for full article):
A woman who appeared on the American program “My Strange Addiction” shocked audiences when she admitted her bizarre habit of eating sofa stuffing....[and] has eaten a total of seven couches and two chairs.
A psychologist said that the woman may need to find other ways to alleviate stress, which I thought was more than obvious. Some better ways to relieve stress, just off the top of my head: ANYTHING BUT EATING SOFA STUFFING.

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Some Football Humor

>> 01 February 2011

In honor of Super Bowl, quite possibly the funniest thing I have seen in a really, really long time. Thanks to Jen for the pass:



So just think about all of that before you get to screamin' and hollerin' about your football game, Steelers and Packers fans.

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Irish Politics & Media -- Photo of the Week 30 Jan 2011

>> 31 January 2011

You may have heard -- the Irish were (still are?) up the creek, economically-speaking, and the government used a bailout as their paddle. The media was none too happy about it and expressed their anger thusly. 
Now, this is a newspaper headline about politicians that I can get behind.

Speaking of Ireland and financial woes, I am going to share a theory that I call "The Sisters' McD Corollary." (McD = Mrs. RoSA's maiden name) It is something I hypothesized a month or so ago, and which received further supporting evidence this weekend.

See, Mrs. RoSA and her sisters like to travel to foreign countries, and I have noticed the following pattern with their last few trips: Whichever foreign country the Sisters' McD travel to will thereafter experience financial/economic/political ruin.

Here's my proof:
--May 2007 -- Three of the McD sisters visit Iceland. In fall 2008, the Iceland economy collapses.
--August 2008 -- The entire McD clan visits Greece, and one of the sisters returns in July 2009. In spring 2010, the Greek economy collapses.
--May 2010 -- Four of the McD sisters visit Ireland. In fall 2010, the Irish government announces the bailout that spurred the above-pictured headline
--January 2011 -- The youngest of the sisters visits Egypt -- her mere presence single-handedly causes riots against the Egyptian government on the very same day of her arrival.

Admittedly, I haven't really used vigorous statistical analysis to prove my point, but four anecdotes isn't bad. Basically what I'm saying is that the McD sisters, while very sweet and lovely, are the harbingers of economic destruction and/or political instability to countries that they visit. So watch out, Holland. They want to come on a visit to do some genealogical research. Brace yourselves.

Oh, I found this beauty while looking up the Irish bailout info:

Sometimes British Isles English is so much better.

Happy Monday! Pray that the McD Sisters do not pay YOU a visit, lest your home collapse in economic woe.

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Weekly Selects #45

>> 27 January 2011

Follow-up from last week's Weekly Selects: A few of you expressed confusion over Zelda's gender. Isn't Zelda the princess, and Link the hero? I was never into the video games that much. Now that you've all expressed doubts, I'm wondering if Zelda is some gender-confused hermaphrodite. VIDEO GAME NERDS: BRING ME INFORMATION

Okay. Let's do this:

--Via Google Reader from Case:

Case called my bluff that I wouldn't post about tattoos. I had to post it. I just had to. But really, I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said...

--Via Google Reader, if you happen to have 10 min to watch some clips from a movie that I can only describe as some sort of hybrid between The Matrix, Quentin Tarantino, and an acid trip gone terribly, terribly wrong.


--Via GChat from White Josh:

In case you aren't adept at deciphering infrared imaging, this is a picture of a bunch of ordinary guys. With a catapult. Launching marijuana across the US-Mexican border. (There is no audio with the video at the link, but it is still worth watching). It's ingenious, really, because it saves on the extra costs of having a drug mule physically transport the drugs across the border. I hope those cost savings are passed on to the customer... or, at the very least, I hope the dealers launch a couple complimentary bags of pork rinds, Doritos, and other such snacks to their clientele. It's just good business.

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Ramblings of a 5-Year Old

>> 25 January 2011

Mrs. RoSA and I teach the 5-year olds at church. G is the one boy in the class who consistently comes, and -- perhaps feeling there is an alpha dog feud to be settled -- is constantly threatening me. The first couple of weeks it started out as veiled threats couched in rhetorical questions (all of the below quotes are said with his face six inches from mine, in what I can only surmise is an attempt to stare me down into submission):

 G: "Do you have any idea how strong I am?"

G: "Do you have any idea how hard I can punch you?"

G: "Did you know that I'm a billion strong? You can't stop me."

This past Sunday, G cut out the rhetoricals and went straight for the direct threats:

G (hand in karate chop shape): "I can karate [sic] you in half...from head..." (moves hand from my head to my feet as if bisecting me) "...to your toes."

The girls have some one-liners, too. Here's one Mrs. RoSA got from one of them:
Girl (referring to me): "Are you in marriage with him?"
Mrs. RoSA: "Yes."
Girl: "He looks like a Chinese man."
(Mrs. RoSA futilely attempts to explain the difference between China and Japan to a 5-year old)

Oh, the joys.

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Photo of the Week -- The "Rising Tide" 24 Jan 2011

>> 24 January 2011

Management here at the Compound likes flyers. A lot. Here is the latest one that I couldn't help but notice (Click to enlargin'):

This is a typical flyer that gets posted around here: ClipArt; lots of highlighting and underlining and bolding so we know what's important; and, of course, the forced metaphor ("Our pet problems are like the tide...they rise and fall"). Yes, yes, Management, that is spot on... the ocean tides -- which have been used in poetry and literature for centuries to symbolize universal human themes like the constancy of nature, the ebbs and flows of prosperity and famine, as well as the futility of man's struggle against the relentlessness of nature -- are the perfect symbol to convey to tenants that when their pet has "an accident" in the common areas, they should clean up after them.

Poorly attempted metaphor aside, I think my real issue with the flyer is the sheer volume of them. I found four of the exact same flyer within a 2-foot radius in our stairwell. I kid you not, and I took a video as proof.
They are all THE EXACT SAME.

I want to buy a pet now, just to break some more rules. Something simple, really -- like a grizzly bear.

Happy Monday to you. Another work week commences...

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Weekly Selects #44

>> 20 January 2011

Let's do's us some Weekly Selects:

-Via Email from Matty, who had this to say about a YouTube clip he sent:
This very bizarre Japanese commercial for a Zelda game seemed to be a viable contender for one of your weekly selects.

Well, really, it has been too long since I've had a chance to ponder about the strangeness of my people. It reminds me a little bit of Dungeons & Dragons re-enactments (costumes) and Matt pointed out that it reminded him of the Michael Jackson's Thriller dance (choreography), so there you have the targeted demographic of Nintendo's ad campaign: The maladjusted social outcast losers of D&D... and, the pedophiles (Michael Jackson jokes: too soon?)

(Kudos to Matt, for his first RoSA contribution)

--Via Email from Case:
I blew it didn't I?  I can't believe I wasted that chance to be part of the blog.  I got to tell you the truth, I got stagefright... I'll never forgive myself, such a big moment and I choked.
Background: I wanted Case to leave me a voicemail that I was then going to post to RoSA for the Seahawks' win last week, but he, as stated above, "blew it." Remember the translator in Saving Private Ryan? The one who totally froze up out of fear during the last battle scene and doesn't help anyone in his unit, and then they pretty much all die? Yeah. That's what Case did here. Instead of clutching his rifle, though, I imagine him clutching his cell phone and rocking himself back & forth under his desk at work.
Thanks for abandoning me, Case.
I am dubbing this The Unleft Voicemail Incident, and I will not forget it.

But I suppose his candidly stated reasons for not coming through are funny enough that he totally redeemed himself. Ironic, really.

--Via Email from Lexi, an article titled "Man Flies Into Rage Over Photo of Saved by the Bell Character":
"[A] man pulled a framed photo of Saved by the Bell character A.C. Slater from the wall and smashed it on the ground..." stating " 'I just don't like Slater.' "
Lexi's comment:
Does it please you or make you afraid that you are the first person I thought of sharing this with after I read it?
I think I'm more confused than pleased or afraid. My honest initial thought: What's a bar in Chicago doing with a picture of Mario Lopez on their wall?

Subsequent thoughts: "Is Lexi sending this to me because she thinks I'm violent and would do something similar? Or does she think I like Saved by the Bell more than the average person? I'm totally confused."

Like I said. Unbridled befuddlement. Welcome to my thoughts, people.

--Lastly, via Facebook from Sister Jen: 
On Display In Portland: The Art Of Beautiful Beards 
I recommend checking it out. That facial hair is impressive. This was not.

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Chapstick Gets Me Out of a Jam

>> 18 January 2011

I have very distinct feelings about each of the four seasons.

Spring and summer were great back in the Pacific NW and at BYU, but ever since I moved back east and have had to endure the adult-onset of allergies during the spring and unbearable humidity during the summer, my valuation of these two seasons has dropped considerably.

I remain a fall and winter guy. Always have been. Probably always will be.

My only problem with winter around here is that with the freezing winds make my face all dry -- it bugs me all day at work because I never think to bring lotion with me. It's just not on my priority list when I'm scrambling to get out the door in the morning (other things, like hygiene, are).

One day at work the dryness was unbearable, but I had no lotion with me. So, I improvised. I took the chapstick on my desk and started putting it on my face.

Unconventional, yes -- but I had no other recourse. And it helped to relieve my irritated skin.

Good thing my chapstick is clear, though. Or else I would have ended up looking like the dude from Twisted Sister:
That's more than enough to make me shudder uncontrollably. And it has nothing to do with how cold it is outside.

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Photo of the Week -- The LOST Tattoo 17 Jan 2011

>> 17 January 2011

I SWEAR this will be the last time I blog a tattoo*-- I realize this makes three weeks in a row and you are screaming for variety... but really, PotW was primarily meant to zero in on the humorous and dumb things that people do, and nothing says "lapse in good judgment" than a poorly chosen/placed tattoo. Also, it's a holiday, and I'm feeling lazy and this was the closest thing available.

Additionally, this will be the last time 'LOST' is mentioned, as well, as I thought I had already bid the show farewell last year:

I hope 40 years from now this person grows old and gathers the grandchildren at their feet:

Old Person With LOST Tattoo: "Children, gather around, gather around!"
/young children gather around expectantly/
"Let me tell you about a show I loved as young teenager, LOST. It rulzed [sic]! It was about a plane that, uh...uh, it was about..."
/checks arm tattoo/
"...oh, yes! About a plane that crashes on a tropical island. And uh...ummm..."
/checks arm tattoo again/
"...and two guys! And one fires a gun at the other. The end."
/children leave disappointed; Old person is smiling in a self-satisfied manner/
"Good thing I got this tattoo."

*I'm probably lying right now. As I type.

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Goodbye, Christmas Tree

>> 14 January 2011

Well, the BAR Tally sits at 8, as Mrs. RoSA and I moved our Christmas tree out of the apartment at about 11PM the other night, leaving a trail of pine needles and snapped branches in our wake (Mrs RoSA: "A trail of tears"). It wouldn't be hard for security to track down the culprits -- the trail is easily traceable back to our place, much like Hansel & Gretel's bread crumbs.

It was almost sad, taking the tree away. We got him when he was all young and vibrant, but at the end he was all frail and brittle; throwing him away was almost like taking an elderly person you care about to a nursing home, or an old dog to the vet to be put under -- we knew he wasn't going to "a better place" ("They have nice gardens where you can go on walks" "They have sewing classes there!", etc etc), but we wanted to tell him he was, just to make him feel better.

Too bad the reality is that he is probably headed for a wood-chipper somewhere, if he hasn't been run through one already.

Wait, am I on the verge of giving a eulogy for a Christmas tree? Snap out of it, man!

Perhaps the key to avoiding emotional attachment is to go artificial next year (yes, I believe this one is made of beer bottles)

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Weekly Selects #43

>> 13 January 2011

Why do the weeks go by so quickly...Let's do this:

-On Google Chat Status, from high school friends Jay Z and Boyer, regarding the colossal upset that was the Seahawks beating the Saints in the first round of the NFL Playoffs:

BEAST MODE
and then I found this photo here:
Marshawn Lynch pulls off the rare "backwards leap into the endzone with hand on jock" move
Well, as a WA State native, good on the Seahawks for being one of three teams (the '82 Lions and Browns -- pretty bad company right there) in NFL history with a losing record to make the playoffs and then go on to beat the defending champs. It is the team of my childhood, so this made me happy.

It's unfortunate, however, that watching the NFC West this year was like watching four members of the chess club get into a fistfight: their scrawny and lanky arms flailing ineffectually in futile attempts to land punches; hair getting pulled; eyes getting gouged; and finally having one of them emerge victorious simply because he wasn't as exhausted as the other three. Now that I think about it, though, I think the chess club fight would have been much more entertaining to watch than this division's 2010 season.

--Via Google Reader Share:
Calvin and Hobbes/Fight Club mashup

I felt this was pretty brilliant; I love Calvin and Hobbes. And my favorite line from Fight Club is still when Brad Pitt is getting up from his seat on the plane and says as he's passing by Ed Norton, who has the aisle seat: "Now, a question of etiquette -- as I pass, do I give you the a**, or the crotch?"

It's a good question.

--Via Google Reader, an article about real-life vigilante crime-fighters:

The dude's crimefighting name is Phoenix Jones. He is part of the "Rain City Superhero Movement." Along with a desire to fight crime, he has a skin-tight armored suit, a taser, and an extensive Batman action figure collection that he plays with every night in his parents' basement (that last one is speculation on my part).

I just keep hearing the exchange from the beginning of The Dark Knight:
Batman Impersonator: "What gives you the right? What's the difference between you and me?"
Batman: "I'm not wearing hockey pads."

But hey. More power to Phoenix and The Justice League.

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Giving Thanks

>> 11 January 2011

Sometimes when people are filled with a sense of gratitude, they say "I want to thank (so and so), but I have no idea how to."

I feel that way right now, but my inability to express myself is not because I'm overcome with emotion or because I'm teary-eyed.

Take this mighty toaster oven, for example:

It is, as Gimli declared, "a kingly gift," but I have no idea how to thank the person who gave us this because I have no idea who gave it to us. It came with a card, but there was no signature on it, and as I am no graphologist, nor am I a voodoo diviner, I don't know who gave it to us.

So here's the best I can do, via the blog: Thank you, Anonymous Benefactor, for your gift. In addition to obvious functionality, it has apparently helped us maintain our already hipster lifestyles by serving in lieu of, in some ways, a microwave. (Apparently not having a microwave is part of being hipster -- who can keep track of this stuff? Not having a microwave, of course, must be accompanied by greasy hair, tight jeans, and a healthy sense of superiority.)*

*Having anything in common with hipsters is such a scary prospect that I am currently shopping for a microwave on Amazon. Perhaps I should purchase two, just so there are no misunderstandings.

While I'm thanking random anonymous folks, I'd like to thank whoever leaves the sports section of The Washington Post in the bathroom stall every morning at work. Your consistency in this department has greatly benefited my mornings.

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Photo of the Week -- The Twilight Tattoo 10 Jan 2011

>> 10 January 2011

You know, I should really just make PotW "Horrible Tattoos"-centric. There would be no shortage of material, as there is no shortage of stupid people willing to ink themselves in an unflattering fashion. I presented a pretty horrible cat tattoo to you a while ago that I thought would never be topped, but perhaps this one could give it a run for its money:

Oh, the horror.

A 49-year old fan of the Twilight series got this full back tattoo inked because, well... she is as addicted as teenage girls are. Which is a greater test of perseverance and endurance, though: The 22 hours she spent in the tattoo artist's chair, or the hours she spent enduring these cringe-worthy books and movies? Toss-up.


I do have to give the tattoo artist some credit, though. If I were a tattoo artist and someone came in and said "I want the entire Twilight series tattooed on my back," I would have tattooed on four elephant-sized piles of poop and called it good.

Some key quotes from the article:
She plans to save £2,000 more to spend another 12 hours under the needle as she eclipses her whole torso with the gothic tribute...
...'I love Robert Pattinson. I want to tone up so I can get his character Edward Cullen on my stomach.'
For. Shame.

Happy Monday, people. Think long and hard before you go and get tattoos...

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Of Sickness and Death

>> 06 January 2011

It has been an interesting three weeks featuring all kinds of run-ins with sickness and death.

So there I was a few weeks ago, racked with unrelenting stomach pain for three hours straight, essentially dying of death. This landed me in the ER for a late night visit and a groundbreaking diagnosis: "stomach pain." Thank you, modern medicine. That would have been an informative diagnosis had it not been the exact thing I told you I had when I checked in. A parrot -- or my nieces, when they get in one of those moods where they repeat everything I say -- could have properly diagnosed me under those terms.

I suppose the one positive outcome of going to the ER was that I did get a nice, healthy dose of morphine, which I'm pretty sure is the greatest invention since the printing press (replacing the Snuggie, of course. Coincidentally, both Snuggies and morphine make you all warm). By the next morning, the mystery illness was gone, and I triumphantly declared in an opiate-hazed delirium something along the lines of "Death wanted to play chicken with me, and Death blinked."

Mrs. RoSA: "Yes, dear. Death came knocking at your door, and you slammed the door right in his face."

(These metaphors portraying my active and aggressive triumph over the Grim Reaper are actually to cover up what really took place that night: Me passively and resignedly doubled-over in the fetal position, body spasming, pleading for the sweet, sweet relief of painkillers or the surgical removal of my stomach and both sets of intestines)

I recovered within a few days. As my immune system limped its way to my sister's house for Christmas, however, neither I nor my family had any idea what lay ahead of us. The scariest incident was a grandchild having a finger almost severed in a slammed door, which required attachment at the hospital. But that wasn't the end of it... no, perhaps it was merely an omen of the coming doom that awaited us...

A plague that I can only surmise was the 5th Horseman of the Apocalypse, or some manifestation of the angel of death (perhaps we forgot to put that lamb's blood above the doorpost?), smote the household over the Christmas holiday, leading my brother-in-law Ben to declare 2010 to be "the Christmas of Vomit."

The plague waged war by first manifesting itself via the oldest grandchild, who woke up in the middle of the night (perfectly normal -- I do it all the time to pee), crawled into bed with grandpa and grandma (tender), and proceeded to vomit on the latter (perhaps not so normal). This was merely the first volley fired by the illness. Eventually, we were pretty much all toppled by the disease throughout the week, one by one -- pick your domino effect/chain reaction analogy, really, and it illustrates what happened. I'm personally going to go with the Pie-eating contest scene in Stand By Me, where the first contestant vomits, which causes another contestant to vomit, and then the audience to vomit, etc -- Only time-lapse the scene so it lasts over four or five days. This is basically what happened.

By day two most of us knew, deep down, the undeniable and inescapable truth: It was just a matter of time before we were sick. The resignation in the air was palpable. It felled most of the grandchildren with vomiting and most of the adults with flu aches and lack of appetite.

But we all survived. And aside from the whole health thing, it was a great holiday. Family time. Kids opening presents. Kids running around and sassing adults. Good food. True Grit. Ben trapping five mice in a single night (It was like watching some combination of the Predator and Bear Grylls practice their trade. Awe-inspiring). Some Call of Duty on PS3.

Mrs. RoSA (walking into the TV room and seeing me playing Call of Duty): "Oh-- well isn't it encouraging to find my husband engaged in bloodsport once again."

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Weekly Selects #42

Not much came in this week. You gotta step up your game and help me out here, people! And holiday hangovers are no excuse. Let's do this:

--Via Google Reader, a pretty hilarious video:



I don't know why this is so funny to me...

--Via Google Chat, from White Josh:

"just got cropdusted by a really old professor"
Poor, poor Josh.

For all of you people not familiar with the term "cropdusting", UrbanDictionary.com has the following: "Farting, silently, as you walk by someone you either want to move out of the way or leave. Only works in crowded areas where you can't be discovered as the farter."
I'm guessing the professor's version was just as toxic...

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