Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts

Sunday, February 28, 2010

March Madness Eat Your Heart Out.

This is the month that will change your life forever. It is March.

As some of you know, every March they (they being colleges that are decent at basketball) play a tournament called March Madness. But, as interesting and life-changing as that can be, this March there is a different event for men and sports enthusiasts alike. It is called....

MARCHSTACHE MADNESS.

This is the proposition:

Grow a mustache this month. Then, after galavanting, schmoozing, and having the greatest time of your life, send in a picture to the facebook event (Side note: join it first).

Here's the event

And here are some staches:
Ghandi. Oh yes he did.

A severely overweight president (but the 'stache was somewhat slimming Mr. Taft)

I love this picture. It's like the cat staged it and Dali is shocked.

Wyatt Earp. BAM.

Ballsy move.

What?! Michael Jordan too? Yeah he did.

Magnum P.I. (if you grow the 'stache, the TV stardom, sports car, and ladies follow soon after)

Greatest quarterback of all time

Greatest quarterback facial hair of all time.

DITKA!

This is not actually Groucho Marx. This was me at a party last year.

In case you forgot, Ghandi, again.

Yesssss!

I always ask myself if Nietsche was cross-eyed every time I see this picture.

Clooney. That's ammunition for all the anti-stache ladies out there.

C'mon Tyrone, it'll be fun.

Rollie Fingers

I have that same shirt. Why you always raiding my closet Hogan?

Boggs with his arms doing the mirror that his 'stache is doing.

This is how I dress when I go to the gym.

I think he'd look like a monkey without facial hair.

Once again. The all-time greatest.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

The Weird Mystery of Random Friends

Mysteries.

Weird Mysteries.

They happen. Here's one: So I'm scrolling through my facebook friend's list and I start to see a bunch of random names. Then I click on the names or profile pictures to see who these strange "new" friends are. Then I see the picture. Generally it involves a wedding dress, possibly some cake being stuffed into someone's mouth, and generally under their "relationship status" it says they are married to some guy with the same last name.

My theory:

These people have some taboo predilections. Marrying someone with the same last name? I mean, I won't outright call it incest, but I'm not going to say it isn't. And why on earth are we friends? I did know someone named Talika Rosen, but I DO NOT know a Talika Fairchild. Actually, come to think of it, I do not know ANY Talika. AAAAaaah! (I never know how to write that so that it comes out as a blood-curdling scream and not a refreshing sound you make when you just pop open a cold beverage).

Here's another strange discovery. While I seem to be gaining all of these "new" friends, the number of overall friends does not increase. AND...if that weren't enough, some of my "old" friends have seemingly disappeared.

My theory:

These "new" friends are probably aliens, cyborgs, or alien cyborgs who have used some voodoo magic to tap into my facebook friends list. They are probably also body snatchers and have taken my "old" friends to some weird, sketchy, alien laboratory to harness the power of their names (and consequently their souls).

Sounds reasonable.
There are never enough tow trucks.

They love each other so much.

Probably not too hard to force that cake down.

"Random guy next to groom tries to distract him with cake while he runs off with bride"

Monday, October 26, 2009

We're Not On Speaking Terms

I'd like to think I'm on at least a couple people's good lists. In fact, I'll be bold enough and say I am on a few (few being more than three). However, that being said, I would like to talk about someone who I am not on speaking terms with. Unfortunately it has been this way for a while.

I am no longer on speaking terms with Santa Claus. I stopped writing him years ago, and, he hasn't really reached out much since then. Come to think of it, Santa Claus has been somewhat of a mute in my life. And, even when we used to have some sort of correspondence (letters and lists from me, and gifts from him), our communication was always a bit strained.
He was considerate from time to time, making sure I was scurvy free every year by placing an orange in the bottom of my stocking, however, there will always remain one distinct communication failure that set the us reeling in different directions.
It was the late eighties. It was the age of He-Man, Thundercats, Ninja Turtles, and of course Power Wheels. It was this last one that I wanted more than anything. As soon as I saw other little kids grinning from ear to ear, flying by on the TV commercials at a blistering 5 miles per hour, I knew I needed one. It was the holy grail of kids toys.
So, every year I would put it on my list at the very top. And every year, without fail, I would get that orange, but the Power Wheels truck eluded me. This continued until the mid-nineties even when I had things that were supposedly better and faster than the Power Wheels truck. But that wasn't the point. For me, it was the principle of the thing. Santa had let me down. And it hurt. To me he has lost his luster. Was he really a Saint? Did he really even visit Africa? Or was it all talk? I just couldn't trust him anymore.

It didn't help that my stocking stuffers got more and more random. It started with innocent trinkets like tic tacs, mini staplers, and the occasional opera CD. Then I started getting random things like midget books (one 5-30 pages long about leprechauns, complete with a little leprechaun figurine), dental hygiene samples, and just staples (apparently he figured one mini stapler was enough).

I guess what really gets me is that my friends have told me they are still on speaking terms with him. One of my buddies went fishing with him last week. He said they talked about me. I feigned apathy as he spoke of his Papa Noel bonding time. I mean I see pictures of the guy all the time doing lewd things online and hanging out with the wrong crowd, so I don't know if I want to get back in touch, but at the same time I want to make amends. My friend said those pictures aren't really him, but are just impostors. I don't know what to believe. I get friend requests from all sorts of creepy Santa types under different aliases like Popo Gigio, Kris Kringle, and "that guy who starred in the Miracle on 34th Street" on facebook, but I just can't pull the trigger.
What's he looking at? She's smashed to his face.

What? I'm not on the list? Well, you were going 37 in a 25 Mr. Kringle.

Where is Mrs. Claus?

So the rest of the A Team are his elves?

If I get a Power Wheels truck this year I might just add one of them.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

The Internet is Sucking Out Our Brains.

(Yes, the brainsucking monster represents the internet)

Ok, I've milled this over a little bit.

Turns out, the Satire Report isn't generating the same kind of interest it used to. Some of this might be because I'm not longer in college or because most college kids aren't bored enough at school to read it (assuming they are my demographic), or because I just suck at writing. Perhaps I've lost my edge (assuming I ever had an edge). It might also be because I'm not as consistent as I once was (I'm willing to bet that's a large part of it). However, the truth is, most of the people who "visited" this site, just came for the pictures. People in the internet age don't have the attention spans to read whole articles (unless you have no life like me). In fact, most of my "readers" probably stopped reading this blog post after the first sentence (I know, unfair stereotyping, but c'mon, what did you expect?)

But there is a greater risk here. Sure, you might be disappointed if I stopped doing this blog (more likely you wouldn't care either way), but I think the person I would most disappoint would be myself. Why is that? Because I am unnecessarily addicted (connected, wired, glued, take your pick) to the internet. I spend WAY too much time reading articles, posting them on facebook, changing my twitter status, watching highlights and reading articles on ESPN.com, checking my mail, and basically living often times vicariously through online social networking mediums. What is happening? I'll tell you what is happening. The internet is sucking the life out of me. The online world is sapping my brain juice and feeding it to either the Matrix, the Deceptocons, or Bill Nye the Science Guy (possibly all of them).
(This woman is clearly being attacked by the internet)

But I guess it wouldn't bother me so much if I were the only sufferer of this brain-sapping, life-altering plague. There are more of us online social networking, blogging, article-reading zombies! We think we shape the world around us with our tweets and article reviews, but in truth we're just doing it out of lack of creativity, invention, or willingness to do something else that is probably more worthwhile anyway (That's not to say I don't workout, go running, eat things, go to parties, hang out, read books, play sports, try to get gainful employment, etc). But I could definitely limit my internet usage. I could call an old buddy on the phone (maybe go through all my phone contacts and delete the ones that hate me, or that I will never call). I could read several books. I could get some friends together and do something crazy MORE often. I could learn a couple more Italian and Brazilian food recipes. I could go surfing more. I could work at a real job (pending me receiving an offer) more. I could bone up on my Spanish, make abstract sculptures out of scrap sheet metal, finger paint with my toes, butt and ears, or build a sailboat. All good options. Oh, and I used to write more poetry. I could get back to that.

BAM! Look at all the non-internet stuff that I can do! And you can do. As Captain Planet (the environmentalist brainwashing tool that tainted our youth) would say: "The power is YOURS!" Or as G.I. Joe would say: "Now you know. And knowing is half the battle." Or as Larry the Cable Guy would say: "Get R Done!"
(Oh Captain Planet, you've destroyed the minds of so many little children. And to little guy that says, "heart" - you were unfairly ridiculed)

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Zesty Meatballs

Dear readers, I would like to invite all of you to become fans (if you are not already) of zesty meatballs. Perhaps some of you are vegetarians, or just don't like meatballs. Well, that's not the point. Zesty Meatballs need your support. Here's the link to the facebook fan page.
 
Support your local meatball.


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Facebook Events I Decline

As some of you know, I am no longer in Utah. One boon to come from this move is that now when I get invites to random parties and events in and around Utah on facebook I can unhesitatingly decline without feeling the least bit of remorse. This has been the case for any events I was invited to by friends in New England for the past couple of years, but now it is true of Utah. Unless the event is held in cyberspace, Brazil, Hawaii, or some other place I actually have an interest in visiting I probably won't be there. Speaking of which I wanted to invite you all to my latest event:

Party in Brazo-Hawaiian Cyberspace!
When: Right now
Why: Shut up
Food: Will be delicious
Who: Everyone. Even dead people and zombies

Tag Line: Because she'll only turn 21 once...

RSVP: Yes or No. If you say "maybe," you're not coming.

This wormhole in cyberspace will take you to:

This beach. And this is where we're having the party.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Being a Facebook Fan

On facebook you can be a fan of lots of things. You can be a fan of Coca-Cola, Larry Bird, the X-files, or George Washington. But you can also be a fan of things that, while ridiculous, are nonetheless important to some like cuddling, sleeping, not being on fire, and drinking beer. Currently I am a fan of these things (some of them more than others): 


So there you go. I am a fan of a lot of stuff. It seems that I should be a fan of more stuff. Like cliff-jumping, Base jumping, jumping in general, eating ritz crackers, playing catch at 8,000 feet, deli sandwiches, etc.



Thursday, April 2, 2009

My Run-In with the Law

Turns out yesterday this blog was on crack. Not too uncommon on April fool's day I suppose. There were a lot of new readers. Well, I still have 996 facebook friends so no one made any money. Sorry (But not really, so I retract that apology). However, I would like to tell you that Wells County Nevada will soon be a little richer on my account. I'm not going to elaborate. I'm just going to say I am not a fan of pigs.
Let me tell you a story. This happened a little more than 3 years ago. It might sound like fiction, but I assure you, it is most unfortunately not.

I had a bad week. That's putting it lightly. I had broken off an engagement, tried to get my money back with the ring (successfully, but not without stepping on some toes), got a concussion iceskating, and was accused of stalking by mall security because I was in and out of the jewelry store so much. So I had it with Provo. On Sunday I just got in my car after church and started driving south. After I made it to about Cedar City I called my grandmother in Pasadena and said, "I just need to get out of here to cool off. Can I stay with you for the week?" Thankfully she obliged. We went to the Huntington Gardens, talked politics, strolled around the beautiful suburban LA scene, and had a jolly time. It was a much needed break.
But I was not that far away from Murphy's law and the age old adage that says, "When it rains it pours." I couldn't just cover up all my baggage with a brief SoCal vacation. 

Play ominous music here.
So I decided to take highway 50 across Nevada to get back home. For the record, most of northern Nevada is open, flat, lifeless desert. And, route 50 is probably one of the least traveled, most boring highways in America. So, I decided to make my trip as quick as possible (clearly a bad idea). I set the cruise control a 100mph. Well that was well and good until I saw the unmistakable outline of a cop cruiser coming towards me from the other direction. I knew it was going to turn around and follow me, but by the time he turned his lights on in pursuit he was about 2 miles behind me given my velocity. So, I reasoned with myself that he was probably chasing a jackrabbit or someone else, or that he'd stop after he realized how far behind he was. Bad move. All the while I was listening to Dishwalla (the Opaline CD on my iPod-product placement plug in the story). Well, after about 20 minutes I decided I'd humor him and pull over.

Pulling over was the right thing to do, but my next move was stupid. Not thinking very clearly I got out of the car. At the time I was wearing khaki pants, a black polo shirt and was barefoot. So immediately the cop is thinking, "DRUG LORD!" And the first things that came out of his mouth weren't pretty. They were along the lines of "F- you, I'm gonna shoot you! You f-ing stupid bleep! I hate your grandma and the jews! Blah blah blah, ethnic slur... you gypped me, yada, yada" It was the typical brash cop intimidation tactics. But I was pretty stoic and unphased, which probably pissed him off more. Then he said, "You put my your life and my life in danger," to which I thought, "No. You were the one who decided to chase me. You put your own life in danger. When you chase danger, danger gets you." But, fortunately for me I kept my mouth shut. Then another cruiser rolled up.

His partner tells me he was going to get a spike strip to stop me. Right. A honda civic with 218,000 miles on it, and a slightly refurbished engine going a touch over 100mph, and you were going to get a spike strip? So they cuffed me and threw me into the back of the cruiser. As I sat there they both had their guns still cocked and ready, pointing at the trunk of my car as if some little midget was in there ready to jump out with a Tommy gun when they opened it. Then they opened it and found my wetsuit and a scrabble board. Total shocker. The kid eagle scout and former LDS missionary who goes to BYU and just came back from visiting his grandmother doesn't have any drugs or fully armed midgets in his trunk. Just wetsuits and scrabble boards. Maybe they thought I stashed the drugs inside the little scrabble hourglass timer. Who knows.

So they took me down to the precinct and had my car towed. Once we got to the station he stopped lecturing me and took my finger prints and mug shot. Bail was set at 1264 dollars. He asked me if I wanted to pay it and leave or stay the night. So I stayed. But, before I could put on their oh so fine neon orange and white pinstripe jumpsuit I had to give them my clothes and shower. The shower was like a little squirt gun. The soap was as big as my fingernail. So I did the best I could as he watched. Then I got some cute matching neon orange boat shoes and dressed. It wasn't too bad. I could watch March Madness from just outside my cell in the common room, and was in there with only one other guy named Jimenez or something. Apparently he was drunk and had committed some domestic abuse. But, by law I was permitted two hot meals and a third one cold. Carl, a good inmate apparently, was the chef/cart pusher and he would bring the food and books. Things were looking on the up and up.

I managed to get a hold of a couple lawyers and friend and my dad and got the bail covered. But, before I left they had me arraigned. My ankles were shackled and my arms were cuffed as they put me in the back of a police SUV. Then they drove me one block over to the court house. After standing up and sitting down a couple times and getting handed a huge stack of paper with a line on the end with two boxes, one that said guilty, the other innocent, I checked the innocent box. Then they took me back to the jail, gave me my clothes and said I was free to go. But, I didn't have my car. So I asked, "Where is my car?" to which the lady at the desk said, "Oh, it was towed to Ely." Now I was in Eureka. I asked her how far away Ely was and she said an hour and a half east. So I then asked if I could get a ride over there to which she said, "Well if you wait 5-7 hours we could get one of the boys to take you after his shift or you could figure something out," to which I replied, "I'll just figure something out."

And I did. I went to the edge of town and hitchhiked with a rancher in a big truck. Little did he know I just got out of jail. He was nice enough and took me to Ely where he dropped me off at the first gas station per my request. Once I got into the gas station I asked the attendant for a phone book to look up the local tow places. She let me use the phone and I struck gold with the first number. I said:

"So I'm looking for my car."
"What's it look like?" he said, with a thick western drawl.
"It's a blue honda civic."
"97?"
"Yep."
"Well I jest got me one of them last night."
"Great. So where is your lot?"
"Where are you at? I kin come over and pick you up."
"Oh, the shell gas station."

How nice. Service with a smile and a pick up. I looked out the window and saw a beat up old white pickup truck and knew it was him. I hopped in and we started shooting the breeze. He was a nice guy, and took a liking to me. He said, "I like you so I'm only going to charge you 20 dollars for the lot fee. Usually it's 60." I was thinking, "Wow. Thanks. Maybe this won't turn out to be so expensive after all." Well that dream was shattered. When I came back to settle the bill he charged me 435 dollars and handed me the affidavit so I could make sure everything was still in the car. Turns out I was missing the most important thing. My wallet. I scrounged around but couldn't find it. So I paid him with my card number from memory. Then I asked him if I could use his phone. I knew where my wallet was. I called Eureka county jail and the desk lady answered the phone. I said, "Hey this is Michael....yes I was your guest last night...is my wallet there?" She said, "Sure is, I have it in a nice manilla envelope right here." Then I asked, "Is there any possibility someone might be able to bring it out to Ely," to which I got the pat reply, "Well maybe in the next 5-7 hours when someone gets off their shift." So I went back to the jail, driving without my wallet to get my wallet and get the heck out of Nevada. And I did. But only after having visited Eureka twice, Ely twice, and having paid to run the entire town of Eureka for a month. I later settled with the court and got the evading charge removed after a year of good behavior, but settled for the speeding charge. The lawyer cost me a grand. So the total cost of my indiscretion was about 3000 dollars. 

And that's the story of how I got thrown in jail. I wish it was an April fool's joke.


Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Facebook Friends: 1000 dollars to a lucky friend

As of this moment I have 996 facebook "friends". So, I have decided to create a new game to encourage more meaningless online social networking interaction with people I hardly know. If I get 1000 friends today (that means four more for you math majors), one lucky friend will get one thousand dollars and my personal recognition of their existence and my congratulations for being my online friend on their wall. Should be exciting. If you're not my friend yet, it seems it might finally become profitable. Good luck facebookers!

Friday, March 13, 2009

Facebook: Innovative or Annoying?

(The dorkishly endearing and yet omnipotent being that is Mark Zuckerberg)

There is a fine line between being innovative and being annoying. Facebook seems to have crossed this line. Repeatedly. I am not whining about it, or trying to sound like so many other boringly rant-filled bloggers out there, but I wanted to bring a phenomenon to people's attentions and provide a forum to discuss this fine line. 

From time to time Facebook updates its homepage, tools, and advertising methods. Anyone who knows good business knows it's essential to stay on top of things and be adaptable. However, there is a phrase that goes "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" that is just as valuable. That means that people who have a great product should be careful with tinkering with it too much because they can end up screwing themselves over. A change comparable to Facebook's constant overhauls would be if McDonald's constantly tried to sell Thai food or remix the special sauce in the Big Mac every other month. It's just not needed, and, it really doesn't make for a better product.
Inevitably I assume Facebook expects that its clients will just adapt to the changes as they always have. But, that most likely isn't because they think the new look, feel, or tools are that great, but because they have no choice.

I really don't have any solution. That's a bit sad. You might think that I would suggest a boycott, or a nude protest, or barraging Facebook with petitions of dissatisfaction coupled with packages of flaming dog excrement. 
Well, while you are welcome to consider those options and do them yourselves, I for one am going to just deal with it. I am just going to bow to the Facebook "man" Mark Zuckerberg. He is after all a billionaire online social networking God. He owns a little bit of my soul and the souls of almost a thousand of my friends. We do his bidding. All hail Zuckerberg! That has such a nice ring to it.