The First Rule of Fight Club...

Hey everyone. Glad to see that we all made it back from where ever it was that we went to this past weekend. I had a pretty eventful weekend myself. Five of my closest friends from college and their wives rented a cabin up in Pigeon Forge along with Amy and myself. It has become an annual tradition. We have a great time, and this year was no exception. Chunk, Moo, Slemp, Neil, and Wood were there. All of us are married, except for Wood, who is the most elligible guy I know (wink wink to the ladies). So everyone had a bedroom except for Wood who pulled sleeper-sofa duty.

Without trying, there is always one event that seems to set itself apart as the defining event for the weekend in my mind. Needless to say, this years was the best to date. It is Saturday night and the group has finished eating at Johnny Corinos and decides to go play laser tag (not to jump ahead, but I finished 3rd overall in a field of about 25 at LaserQuest). My vehicle (the Xterra) is in the lead to head up the strip to find a suitable laser tag establishment. I have to turn right out of the parking lot in order to get to a redlight and pull a U-turn. The cars in the left-hand turn lane of oncoming traffic are blocking my view of the lane I am trying to pull into. I ease out and see a break in the traffic...or so I thought. What I failed to notice was the speeding green saturn that came roaring through the light at the moment that I punched the gas. Due to God's mercy, and what I believe now is His desire for me to have a good story to tell from the weekend, I lurch the truck to a stop without pulling out into the lane. Tragedy avoided...or so I thought. I proceed to complete my U-turn and fall into line behind the aforementioned speeding green saturn at the next redlight.

To my surprise I see the driver side door open and a 20-22 year old kid wearing a white hoodie holding a dip cup and weighing about 135 lbs. step out of the green saturn. As he is approaching my vehicle I am taking stock of several things and running several scenarios through my head. I notice he has a car load of other people (guys as crazy as he is?...I am unsure at this point). I am counting the total number of my friends in my car and the car behind me and sizing up their overall value-added in the case that this gets "ugly". I am laughing to myself that this kid is carrying his dip cup back with him. I am reviewing my extensive bow-staff, cage-fighter, and num-chuck skills to determine the optimal attack mode. I am telling myself that I cannot laugh outloud when the kid gets to my window or this WILL get "ugly". I am trying to decide if I will lose my job or security clearance if I get in a street brawl with a punk redneck kid at a Pigeon Forge intersection. I laugh to myself again that this kid is carrying a dip cup. And finally, I think back to the last fight I was in (Daniel McNally, 6th Grade, After Lunch, Guys Restroom, I won...I think).

The kid (who in my mind I have named Jimbo by this time) is now at my window and I roll my driver side window down. The kid then strings a short procession of profanity together in telling me I should watch what I am doing. I let Jimbo know that he needs to calm down some, and I started to apologize for the incident. By this time though, Jimbo has spoken his piece and is already walking himself and his dip cup back to his car. Crisis and middle-of-the-road-fist-fight avoided I think to myself and start to roll my window back up. At about halfway up, my friend (Neil for those who are keeping score) yells out the window, "Jackxxx!". Now, I love Neil. He is a good friend of mine, but of my buddies that were present that weekend he is the scrawniest one and I can guarantee he hasn't been in a fight since his 6th grade year either. Too late now though. It was spoken, hanging out there as plain as Jimbo's dip cup. I knew for sure that my wife was going to have to throw my bail at that point. I am reaching for the door handle and trying to put the truck into park prepared for Jimbo to wheel around not wanting to be halfway out of my truck if Jimbo did feel squirrely. Jimbo was obviously a lover and not a fighter that night, because after a slight pause he continued with his dip cup back to the green saturn. The light turned green and the saturn drove off into the neon sunset. Neil's wife punched him in the arm and scolded him, and Amy began breathing again.

I couldn't have made up a funnier story.

Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttttte!!!

Hello, everyone out there in blogopia. Sorry that it has been a few days since I have posted. One night I literally fell asleep here at the computer while starting an entry (you can ask Amy). It was a very sad day. I have been getting up for work at 4:00 AM for the past two weeks, and it is wearing me out. I am pretty useless after 8:00 PM most evenings (debatably useless before 8:00 PM too) anymore.

I thought that I would complete the photo documentary that is the Life-of-Rob. Amy and I had a couple of pictures scanned into this computer that I touched up and used for our rehearsal dinner invitations. Just for fun, I wanted to show you how cute Amy was as a kid. He he!

We are sooooooooooooooooo cute, especially my wife! The smaller photo above is the touch-up that I did for the rehearsal dinner invitation.

RTA junkies, I will post a mass update later today, so try not to O.D. when it comes.

Pride Fall Down

I know it is late, but some of us unfortunate saps do not get to check their blogs at work. I do like the feedback that I have gotten, though, so thanks. So far, Amy's picture choice is running second to the popular, shock-and-awe photo. And, just because it isn't America without a random third party making the vote counting interesting, I am adding my own "Ralph-Nader" to the mix (or "Ross-Perot" if that is your fancy).


Robert, The Early College Years, is pictured in this post. It was a shameful time in my life when I let a girl convince me that this hair cut was "cute", maybe even "sexy". Girls, if there was any doubt about the mind-numbing powers you have over the guys, then this should settle the issue once and for all. Yes those are ringlet curls on either side of my forehead. And yes it is combed into what is lovingly referred to as a "butt-cut" styling. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the "butt-cut", this is where a severely deluded individual parts their hair directly in the middle of their head creating a likeness, if you will, of a butt, hence the name. I put mousse in my hair back in those days (went through about a bottle every other week). I could pick my hair into a "fro" that stood approximately 6 inches out in every direction (debatably this may have been a better hair-style choice). And my father would mock me at the time (deservedly so) by saying that I was the prettiest of his three daughters. What was I thinking? Was I thinking?!?

I have digressed enough on the story behind this photo. Pride fall down! I believe this could be developed into a ministry, though...Humility Training, Butt-Cut-Counseling. Oh the possibilities!

I want to know everyone's bad-hair style stories. It will be good for your soul or will at least be entertaining to the rest of us.

I almost forgot...R-T-A:
Blue Jeans, Chocolate Brown Polo with Off-White Horizontal Stripes, White Socks, Timberland Hiking Boots

Day 2...A Time of Growth and Reflection

Finally, I have figured out how to put my pretty face on this blog! I am embarrassed to say how much of my afternoon was spent trying to figure that one out. The picture you see to the right was Amy's choice for my profile picture. I am attaching my initial choice to this post, and we will let the people decide. That's right...I am bringing it to the people! So, people, let your voices be heard.

Also, I have added a few lines of description to the top of the blog...they are really more warnings/disclaimers/instructions than an actual description of the blog, but it is my blog and I make the rules (so much for power to the people...bring on the slightly benevolent dictatorship).

Also, also, I updated the links to the right as well. If you run across any "wicked-cool" websites zip me an email and I will share them with the folks.

Alright, it is that time again. R-T-A update:

Since I only wore those clothes listed in yesterday's post for about 3 hours last night, I chose to conserve a little agua (not to mention the dinero I spend on the agua) and wear those same clothes to church today. Take heart though my RTA junkies, I did not recycle my socks. Today they were khaki colored, cotton/poly socks that I borrowed/stole from my roomate my senior year of college (sorry Chunk!).

In the beginning...

I have decided to jump on the trend-train (albeit on the caboose) and start a blog. I don't really have a lot to say, but the website won't let me see my blog until I create at least one post. Soooo...here it is. As promised to my caregroup last night, I will now detail the particulars of my wardrobe today.

Jeans - Cotton - Blue - JCrew
Socks - Cotton/Poly - White - Walmart
Button-up Shirt - Cotton/Poly - Tan - Van Huesen
Shoes - Leather - Brown - Steve Madden

I predict a cult-following of this blog, a Robert-Townsend-Attire Movement if you will. Start planning your R-T-A parties today.