Wednesday, March 29, 2006


guy1: For whatever reason it didn't work out. She blames me, but I've always thought it's more complicated than that. I take a more philisophical view on things.
guy2: Meaning you're full of shit and she's not?
guy1: Ultimately. Not exactly how I would put it.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

midget? dwarf? lachey? You decide!

A friend of mine met Nick Lachey. I was sent the picture evidence:

(Her identity has been protected by the giant smiley face.)

Immediately upon seeing this picture (minus the smiley), I thought, "Dang. That Nick Lachey is small!" I mean, really. The rather happy girl he's pictured with isn't tall, by any stretch of the imagination. To give you an idea of how tiny he is, consider an artist's representation of the two of us, side-by-side:

(Lachey kicks and bites when you get him in a hold like that; that's why I'm so pissed. Those pants are boss though.)

That's the whole point of this post really - none. I know that I will never be as rich, successful or handsome as Nick Lachey. But I will always be able to score items off the top shelf at the grocery store, while Nick will have to stand on the prostrate body of whomever happens to be his personal assitant that week.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

preventive maintenance

The building I work in is old. It has a bank of six elevators in the main lobby and often they are on the fritz. It's not uncommon to see tens of people waiting to get a ride up to their floor.

Well, yesterday they were working on one of the elevators. The workers had placed a yellow vinyl gate around the opening of the elevator that said "Preventive Maintenance."

I found it interesting they used that phrase. It's a very subtle bit of "spin." I doubt they're ALWAYS doing preventive maintenance. I know a lot of times the elevators will get stuck between floors or will go to floors you didn't ask the elevator to go to. Often they are doing reactive maintenance. I guess it would be disconcerting for the gate to say, "You almost died on your last ride in this elevator," but really, we're all adults. We understand the trade-off. We can ride an elevator rather than haul our lazy asses up the stairs. We accept the risk - hold the patronizing coddling.


co-worker1: That’s the kind of thing that drives Roger to drink.
me1: Yah. And I don’t need any encouragement.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

365 posts + 1

If you're ever stranded on a desert isle, you can now enjoy my blog for one full year - provided you're not so bored that you would read more than one post per day. Really there are better ways for you to spend your time, such as fashioning a ship out of coconuts or making an imaginary friend out of a volleyball.

Maybe I will publish a Marginally-Clever-A-Day Calendar. Some of the posts would fit quite nicely. Others I would need to cut the fat and get to the point faster. Or else we're talking, tiny, tiny font.

As I imply in the title, THIS post right here actually makes 366 total, so you're all set for a leap year. I've done my part; time for one of you to get stranded.

film fest: Fuck (USA - 2005)

Fuck was a fascinating documentary about the "f" word. It covered the etymology of the word - at least what we know (primarily by debunking the myth that it's an acronym); discussed its uses in an number of environs; and got the opinions of celebrities, porn stars, talk show folks, people that don't want the word to be on TV and Pat Boone. If you're Pat Boone, you don't like the word fuck.

Pat stole the show. He first explained that he thought use of such words singled you out as a low-life, essentially. And he said that he used his own name in place of fuck. If he hits a bad shot in tennis, "BOONE!" Pat Boone is either a comedic genius or a silly old man, because it was hilarious. Later on Ice-T, who was almost creepy in his love of the word, started joking that he was going to replace fuck with Boone! too. He was joking, but after watching him try it out, I wouldn't be surprised if it stuck.

My opinion? I'm not above the occasional swear either in my blog or real life. To me, fuck is like a spicy spice. Sprinkled here and there it can be a refreshing, funny surprise. It's also like the use of midgets in comedic films. Nothing funnier than an unexpected midget sighting on screen (like Peter Dinklage's appearance in Safe Men as a hit man or in Elf as a children's book author). But you can have too much of a good thing. Too many fucks or too many midgets just isn't fucking funny anymore.

Monday, March 20, 2006

blog update

I will be busy with 30th Annual Cleveland International Film Festival all week. No, I am not dead from St. Patrick's Day (more on that later). I will post when able. Miss me. I love you.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

roadmap to the mc

I don't know what happened, but all the sudden I'm getting search results, lots of them. I think it has something to do with the google and how it's top-secret search algorithms work. The details of which, I'm unwilling and unable, to go into. At any rate, check this out:

gained, ice cream, dimensions, drunk: Uh, ok. pedophile: This is my fault, but it was totally a joke!
competition tulips for hair
roger`s flex: I am pretty huge.
olsen twins weigh: 60 pounds - combined?
sweater casey blake: As in bodily fluid or Cosby?
ashlee simpson grandfathers
hobo and bindle stick cartoon

It hurts me because really, these people are not finding what they are looking for. Although, I do wish I had some hobo and bindle stick cartoons.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

thought^2. . .

It seems like everybody has a "good" phone number. One that has at least a couple of the same digits, or an easy way to remember. Who gets all the crappy numbers? For example, who gets 314-1592? Oh wait, that's pi defined to seven digits; even that's good.

I'm either losing my hair or my perception of reality. I'm pulling for the latter.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


Athlete's Foot spray is not located next to the jock itch spray. It's by the foot stuff.

I think I have the former, either that or spontaneous, itchy blistering of the feet. Right now, I'm really liking that "spontaneous, itchy blistering" was euphemized to "athlete." Thank you science.

thought . . .

There's a fine line between "making fun" of people and "simply pointing out the facts."

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

it's a mad mad mad mad march (madness)

Thursday, it is upon us. The NCAA tournament. I'm not sure of the exact numbers, but the aggregate amount of productivity lost (in dollar terms) this week due to workers preparing tourney brackets will be 1.87 duodecahedronillion dollars (give or take an order of magnitude). That's a lot of scratch. But it is a necessary evil. How could I work if I couldn't gamble?

I'm no big lover of college basketball. I think it's kind of primitive. I enjoy the effort, but the quality of play is lacking, nearly every shot is "circus" and the same megalomaniac coaches are winning the thing every year. I get spoiled by the pure power and athleticism of the pro game. Sure, it's nice to watch a fundamentally sound team, but it's not as awe inducing. It's the difference between watching someone eat a bowl of cereal or watching someone eat 53 hot dogs. Bowl of cereal, I can do that. Even if it's a giant bowl and I have no chance at eating it - it LOOKS like I could; but, 53 hot dogs - wow.

Fortunately, all this bias against the college game dissipates during the tournament and this is due, in no small part, to the fact that I will try to control the outcomes of the games with my mind in an attempt to win some cash. Never mind my lack of any actual knowledge, picking winners in the unpredictably volatile college game is encoded in my DNA . . . right?

Well, maybe not, but it should be fun. Mixing sports with gambling is like mixing booze with dancing - a winning combination.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

the haunting images of yahoo mail

I have the yahoo mail; considering I the hundreds and hundreds of email messages of blogging admiration I get daily, I can only assume that you know that. At any rate, when you log into yahoo the "form," as it's called in the business, looks like this:

This is all well and good. And honestly, it's probably always been like that but I never noticed it before. However, I started to take notice when I found this guy staring back at me one morning:

Dear Lord. I suffered a series of convulsions. After that, I always took the type to check out what that login picture was. There are some sick fucks running yahoo mail. Check out this montage of images I saved from there:

Ok, the one on the bottom right is really me in a Halloween costume. Although I've been thinking of dressing like this for work on a regular basis and calling all my co-workers "my bitches." Seriously though, whatever happened to really, really, really good-looking people being models for stuff? I used to think it was elitist, but now I'm beginning to see the wisdom of that form.

I thought all was well. I prepared myself mentally for the horrors I would face when I went to check my email. But then, the geniuses at yahoo, decided to have a contest. It was called PhotoMail Epic Shots contest. Yahoo users sent their own pictures in and if they "won" that picture was displayed on the yahoo mail login page. Look at this new crop of monstrosities:

Ok, the last one is me again, inside a plastic space capsule - in space. You can see the Earth and everything.

At any rate, beware the yahoo email. Who knows what evil lurks therein.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Netflix: Gerry (2002)

Gerry is a dichotomy of a movie.

Gerry was probably one of the most boring and tedious movies I've ever seen; yet I was undeniably drawn to it. Gerry is a movie I would never recommend to anyone; yet I'm totally cool and cultured for having seen it myself. At this point, the word count of this post has probably exceeded the total words spoken during Gerry. You could probably watch the whole of Gerry in fast-forward and not miss any key plot points. theMonica hated Gerry so much that she forced me to shut it off. But then, 15 minutes later, she demanded we watch the end of it. Gerry is like Waiting for Godot with less Godot. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Gerry, while boring, was also interesting.

Anyway, let's see what Ed's white thumb of filmic justice says . . .

Ed. Ed. Looks like Ed dozed off, but before that he rotated to a 3.0 stars.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

sorry, you have to listen to me

So, just some crap that I can't really constitute into a normal post like I normally do, normally (right?).

  • Today it was like 150 degrees. It wasn't literally that hot, but when you're in the midst of winter and the temperature suddenly tops 50 degrees, it feels that way. It made me wonder how much it would cost for me to fly the Indians here from Winter Haven to play a quick pick-up game at Jacobs' Field. Then I wondered what the conversion of dollars to kidneys would be and if I had that many kidneys. I doubt it. There's only so much real estate in there. What about you? Got a spare kidney?

  • Maybe instead of the whole organ harvesting thing, I could sneak into the stadium and sit in the bleachers and get really drunk.

  • Sometimes I think stuff and there's no one around to tell it to and we're all the worse for it. Take for instance, last week, I was at the bar thinking, "This place is like the LOGO network of Tremont bars."

  • I speak of the LOGO network because I've been watching Wonderfalls on it. It's a good show and you should watch it. GO! No? Whatever, that's what Jesus said you should do.

  • Wonderfalls also has a fun theme song by Andy Partridge from XTC. Everyone loves XTC, right?

  • What does it take to qualify for broadcasting on LOGO? Apparently at least the sister of the main character has to be a lesbian. Hey, if it's good enough for LOGO, it's good enough for me. It reminds me of when MST3K left Comedy Central and went to the Sci-Fi channel. I'm no fan of Sci-Fi, so I was pretty sure MST3K didn't qualify as sci-fi. But, to account for the apparent mis-broadcasting, the Sci-Fi channel showed only episodes where Joel/Mike and the bots lampooned sci-fi movies - a fair, if specious, compromise. This confluence of thoughts got me to thinking of starting a network called GOrgeous Folks DOing Cool and HIlarious THIngs Television - GOFDOCHITHIT. And then I'd show re-runs of Underdog and Indians games and stuff. Don't worry; the gorgeous people will be here any day now.
All right then, now that we've got that all squared away, go about your merry ways.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

hello darkness

There is no way for me NOT to feel stupid when somebody's phone cuts out while I'm talking. Invariably I'm trying to be funny and invariably I take their "silence" as me not being funny, so I redouble my comedic efforts in an attempt to get some sort of reaction from my no-longer-existence listener. Then the dial tone kicks in and I blush at the monumental effort I had just made in attempting to entertain the vast, desolate, humanless expanse of disconnected phonedom.

thought . . .

When unsure of how to spell a French word, keep adding vowels. Au revoiroueaux!

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

beer guy in tremont

Walking sucks. I live in a pretty compacted neighborhood. I do my share of walking around usually bar to bar, to and fro. But, that's about as far as I care to go. I know you all know how lazy I am and that's true. I am lazy, but laziness isn't the main factor here. It's the time. I don't necessarily want to spend half my night walking to the convenient to get a carton of milk.

At any rate, I was walking around one neighborhood one day wearing my "beer guy in Tremont" t-shirt. I received the shirt while drinking one night at the Lincoln Park Pub from the good people at Miller (High Life). Whenever I wear it, I'm always amazed. People smile and give me head nods, what's ups, etc. They say, "Is that so?" Or, "Where did you get that?" I say, "Well, it's partly genetic and then, you know, I try to always be nice to people and tell a joke every now and again." By this time, I've forgotten that I'm wearing my "beer guy" shirt and I can only assume they're asking me where I got my winning personality. It's like driving a new car or being a hot chick, people smiling at you and doing nice things for you for no reason. I swear this t-shirt makes me 47 times more likeable.

One day, my shirt will wither away and fall off my body. That will be a sad day for me and a happy day for folks all around Tremont. From then on I can happily recede into the cold stares of relative anonymity.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Open Memo Department

TO: World's Strongest Woman
RE: Workout schedule

I am writing to ask you to refrain from entering the gym and lifting in close proximity to my person. You inordinate strength has an humiliating and emasculating effect on me. I understand that there are plenty of women stronger than I, but I prefer to ignore it and flex ostentatiously in the giant mirror.

Thank you.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

thought . . .

(While listening to the sound of my ironing board opening)

I bet that's what pterodactyls sounded like, right before they bit off your head.

is it wicked not to care?

It's a tradition in the Catholic church to give something up for the Lenten season. Technically, it's not a tradition, but a rule, and if you disobey - fiery pit of hell for you, sinner. I've always looked to take the easy way out of things, no more clearly demonstrated than I was a young lad and gave up raisins for Lent. You see, I hated raisins. There was no sense risking my eternal soul on something chancier than dried grapes. If I had given up ice cream, I would have surely slipped-up or succumbed to the delicious temptation of that chilly confection. I rightly wagered that I was safer disdaining raisins than anything else. Man was that some easy penance.

You see, that's what Catholicism is all about - the threat of eternal damnation. Well, for youngRoger, classic underachiever, this was perfect synergy, but I have since become wtf?Roger, challenger of self. My resolution this year (and it being the second year is now somewhat of a tradition in its own right (p2thep - parenthetical to the parenthetical - incidentally, in retrospect, my blog was 80% funnier back then, I now tend to complicate things with extraneous words - yo)) for Lent is to not make fun of people. It was a difficult decision, really. My buddy Matt was chagrined when I informed him of my intentions. "Is it right for you to give up something that gives joy to so many?" Well, Jesus? Probably not, but since I haven't heard back from JC, I'm going to take the safer route of not ridiculing people.

Rest easy friends. This does not apply to the blog. It's not making fun of people I relate with in three dimensions, excluding myself (for without that, there would nary be a blog). So celebrities, take note, you're still fair game. My little vow really shouldn't be obvious on my little blog. In fact, I'm not sure it will be noticeable in anyway as far as you're concerned. Why mention it? Just so you know that some guy's blog you sometimes read is slowly dying . . . little by little, unspoken insult by unspoken insult. Can you hear the silent screams of ridicule?