Dear Jeff,
I would personally like to, on the behalf of all the Indicators, extend our deepest apologies for so obviously rigging the game of Password at the pizzeria last night. We should be ashamed of ourselves to even think that we could cheat someone who so clearly "knows how it is." Because God knows we had everything to gain from the fact that you bought one beer while playing our deviously slanted Password game.
Now that we have apologized, I must say: We got you bitch! You're a little slow on the uptake huh Jeff? We obviously set you up. Last month we held a meeting. We met in a musty warehouse down at the docks in a cigar smoke filled room with one light bulb illuminating the damp and moldy card table that we huddled around as we discussed how to make a fool out you.
I must tell you, when I first laid eyes on the picture in our dossier on you, I defended you. I said, "NO! I don't know this guy Jeff, but I have a good read on him and I think he is a nice guy. By the way there is no way he would even fall for this because he has 'been around.'" Then I said, "And when he exposes us for corrupting the virtuous name of the game Password, don't try and offer him a consolation prize of two free Indicators tickets because he 'does music' and then don't you dare inform him that it's improv comedy and not music because he has 'been doing comedy for years.'" Then I took a second look at your picture and realized you are a total tool and I agreed to be the one directly responsible for the undertaking of our masterful heist that would win us absolutely nothing.
My only wish is that you would have stuck around for just a few more minutes. Right after you left the girl that beat you, changed the one $25 Bearno's Bucks gift certificate into 25, $1 Bearno's Bucks gift certificates. We put them in a pile on the floor and then we all got naked and rolled around in them while simultaneously groaning, "Oh yeah, Jeff's money...Jeff's money." You totally missed it. Well, there's always next month. See you then.
Sincerely,
Matt Gifford
The Indicators
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
Having Oldness
I turned 29 a couple of weeks ago. Never before have I been made so aware of my age as I have recently. It's the little things that have presented the tell tale signs. My sudden deep interest in grocery store savings. The little yellow Kroger tags are like my own personal sherpa of mercantilism. I am obsessed with my utility bill and Angela Lansbury is starting to become much more appealing.
Maybe it's not that I'm getting old, but maybe it's just that I'm a cheap bastard with a penchant for sassy octogenarians. That would explain all those pubescent "private times" that happened to coincide with Golden Girls reruns.
I know I'm getting old. I know this because I was eating lunch the other day and I ordered a beer. When I was asked for my i.d. I made the statement that is nothing short of obligatory for any 30 or 40 something total douche that hasn't been carded in a couple of years. I did the whole, "Well thank you" thing. God I am such an asshole! The worst part is the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I had no choice in the matter. It came out as natural as an immediate "no" when asked at the age of 21 whether or not you will ever say "well thank you" to a server who just carded you.
I am here to tell you youngins. It will eventually happen to you. You too will become a total douche and there is nothing you can do about it. Merry Fuggin' Christmas, now help me out to my car with my bags won't you?
-Matt
Maybe it's not that I'm getting old, but maybe it's just that I'm a cheap bastard with a penchant for sassy octogenarians. That would explain all those pubescent "private times" that happened to coincide with Golden Girls reruns.
I know I'm getting old. I know this because I was eating lunch the other day and I ordered a beer. When I was asked for my i.d. I made the statement that is nothing short of obligatory for any 30 or 40 something total douche that hasn't been carded in a couple of years. I did the whole, "Well thank you" thing. God I am such an asshole! The worst part is the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I had no choice in the matter. It came out as natural as an immediate "no" when asked at the age of 21 whether or not you will ever say "well thank you" to a server who just carded you.
I am here to tell you youngins. It will eventually happen to you. You too will become a total douche and there is nothing you can do about it. Merry Fuggin' Christmas, now help me out to my car with my bags won't you?
-Matt
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving!
It’s that time of year again, when the family packs into the car and drives to Grandma’s house for a day full of thankfulness and fellowship. Where everyone gathers around the table and shares what they are “thankful for” and how happy they are to be together on this holiday. Then everyone hugs and smiles and then quickly jumps back into the car, and goes to Grampa’s house…’cause Grandma and Grampa got divorced many years ago, even though it was taboo then. And you get there and everyone is smiling and having a good time. They’ve already started eating, because no one was really sure of when you were going to get there and they got tired of waiting and there’s a hint of resentment in the air because you went to see “that other” family before you came to see them. But after an hour or two it gets forgotten…because it’s thanksgiving. You make nice with Grampa’s new girlfriend. And you’ve tried to pace yourself and not eat too much at one place and downplay how much you ate at the previous house to ensure that each side of the family feels like you’re more a part of that family than the other. All the while you are looking forward to Friday when you have “fake” Thanksgiving with the complete other side of the family, who was nice enough move Thanksgiving for everyone…Knowing full well at least one member of that part of the family only has that one Thanksgiving to go to which isn’t on Thanksgiving, and you envy the simplicity of their schedule until you realize they’re watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” alone. And then heaven forbid you accidentally call some one by the wrong name, or forget that one house is predominantly Catholic, one Baptist and another a mixture of bitter/jaded formerly religious agnostics with Wiccan tendencies who are planning a kick a** winter solstice party. And the part that you’re thankful for is that you get to do it all over again in a month. Or is all that just me? Too personal? Well, you can relate. Happy Holidays!
-Ben
-Ben
Monday, October 22, 2007
Timber!!!
I find it maddening that all I hear people talk about these days is the environment or "going green." Well let me tell you something, green is not necessarily a good thing. There are plenty of things that are green that are bad.
The Hulk is nothing but bad, the movie and the alter ego. Boogers. The only people that will disagree with this are booger eaters. Kermit. Two words, pig fucker. And finally, trees, trees are green and probably the worst thing ever. Some people say we need to save the trees because they create oxygen through photosynthesis. I say photosynthesis is witchcraft. Witchcraft is bad. Every plant that is green does photosynthesis. Ergo and carpe diem, green equals bad.
Another thing about trees is the fact that they say we are running out of them. To this I say, puushaww. I am taking a stagecraft class and just the other day we were talking about how easy it is to build trees out of plywood, chicken wire and cloth. It only takes a few feet of plywood to make the frame of one tree. Do you know how many theatre trees you can make from one of our precious "natural" trees? I don't know either but it is probably an astrological figure.
I say, let's cut down a few redwoods and we can go out to Wyoming where there is nothing but anti-government compounds and build all the trees we could ever need. The only thing we would have to be careful about is, if we build all those theatre trees then we'll have too much oxygen. Then someone driving through Wyoming will light a cigarette and cause a huge explosion that will ignite all the bullets in all the crazy compounds and Wyoming will look more like the Parliament building in the end of V for Vendetta.
So the next time someone says, "We need to reduce our carbon footprint and be more green." You say, "Shut up pig fucker." See, there, argument won. The bumper stickers that say, "Fuck the trees, save Wyoming" will be available soon.
-Matt
The Hulk is nothing but bad, the movie and the alter ego. Boogers. The only people that will disagree with this are booger eaters. Kermit. Two words, pig fucker. And finally, trees, trees are green and probably the worst thing ever. Some people say we need to save the trees because they create oxygen through photosynthesis. I say photosynthesis is witchcraft. Witchcraft is bad. Every plant that is green does photosynthesis. Ergo and carpe diem, green equals bad.
Another thing about trees is the fact that they say we are running out of them. To this I say, puushaww. I am taking a stagecraft class and just the other day we were talking about how easy it is to build trees out of plywood, chicken wire and cloth. It only takes a few feet of plywood to make the frame of one tree. Do you know how many theatre trees you can make from one of our precious "natural" trees? I don't know either but it is probably an astrological figure.
I say, let's cut down a few redwoods and we can go out to Wyoming where there is nothing but anti-government compounds and build all the trees we could ever need. The only thing we would have to be careful about is, if we build all those theatre trees then we'll have too much oxygen. Then someone driving through Wyoming will light a cigarette and cause a huge explosion that will ignite all the bullets in all the crazy compounds and Wyoming will look more like the Parliament building in the end of V for Vendetta.
So the next time someone says, "We need to reduce our carbon footprint and be more green." You say, "Shut up pig fucker." See, there, argument won. The bumper stickers that say, "Fuck the trees, save Wyoming" will be available soon.
-Matt
Friday, October 19, 2007
Old Blogs
We are using this thing right here for all of our bloggings. That way you can post comments and let us know what you think. We love to know what you think. Below are all the older blogs. This way you aren't missing anything:
Lil' James, September 11th 2007
Walking down the aisle of my local grocery store, I suddenly stopped to notice a whole new section. It wasn’t free hamburgers or an ice-cream machine that spat out three different flavors, it was an entire aisle dedicated to Gay Foods. Now, being a straight man with a taught record of heterosexuality, I ventured down the aisle curiously. To my left, I noticed a large box of Queerio’s! The box contained only the letters “O” and “I”. (come on, picture two O’s and an I. What does it look like? Ok.)
I moved down a bit further to the frozen Gay Foods. Did you know Ryan Seacrest has a whole line of Frozen Cockcicles? They’re called Push-Cocks. You put your fist up the backside, and creamy goodness comes out the top!
Finally, I was at the desserts. After some browsing, I noticed a fellow grab the last box of something. I called to him, “Hey, whatcha got there?” He replied, “ Oh, why it’s the last box of Fag Newtons. They’re not just cookies, they’re cake for Fruits!”
Neil, August 3rd 2007
Parting the clouds of ignorance:
In my now one month return to the single life (la vida loca, some may call it), I have spent a great deal of time thinking about the opposite sex. I have thought, philosophized and even scientifically researched how to make myself more attractive and irresistible to women. At the risk of sounding a bit pompous, I have discovered some rather groundbreaking facts. It has been noted for years upon years that women want a man that reminds them of their father. This information is simply wrong and quite misguided. Women want men that remind them of their grandfathers. I will give you all a moment to let this earth-shattering theory, soon to be law, sink in…
I am now addressing all you male Indicator fans out there. I want to impart to you some wisdom on how to use my new discovery to your advantage. The first thing to do is throw away all your fancy upper-class yuppie puppy colognes and saunter down to your local K-mart for these fine products; (1) Jovan’s Musk and or Stetson. (2) A bottle of Brute aftershave lotion, this may burn like hell but the reward is priceless. (3) Last but certainly not least, no more Axe body deodorant, it’s a fad that’ll have a worse impact than Hammer pants. Reach back to the days of Sinatra and the Rat Pack, and get a true lasting legend, Old Spice original scent.
If you apply these to your body a simple reaction will occur with the ladies. Scientists call this “scent memory,” it will remind them of “Grandpa” and they will instantly feel safe and secure. That my men friends is the true key to sexy sexy pick ups. Feel free to explore wardrobe changes also, like sweater vest or even hard candy in your pockets at all times. Investigate, have fun, don’t break too many hearts and impart this wisdom to only those who deserve it. Thank you for your time.
Lil' James, June 26 2007
I was driving around our glorious town of Louisville the other day and noticed many wonderful things that you can do if you’re bored.
For instance, the homeless people in Louisville area are a fine point of entertainment. Just walk right up to a bum and he will regale you with hours of WWII stories and various encounters with ‘the Man.’ Another great thing to do is to tell a bum you saw his bum friend take a swig of his enormous can of cheap beer. This will cause a Bum Fight. I do not condone Bum Fighting, but I do love it.
Another great thing to do around Louisville is to go to public buildings and leave boxes in front of them. Now, don’t put anything in the box, unless it’s a note that says, “ Wait, you didn’t think this was a bomb, did you? Gosh I’m sorry, what a ninny I am!”
If all this fails go to your local mall and tell old people that you are their grandchild and you need $20 to buy them some more denture cream. Do not buy denture cream. Instead buy large cans of cheap beer and set up booby-traps to capture bums.
Matt, June 26 2007
With the latest revelations in Global Warming, it is no secret that humans on Earth are like fleas on a dog and Global Warming is the Front Line flea remover. It is important to learn all the ways you can have a safe summer this summer. That is why I have compiled a list of frequently asked questions about summer. I have then provided the answers to these questions. I legally have to say that if you take some of the advice listed below you might die. Maybe.
Q. How can I enjoy the summer outdoors but still be safe from the damaging rays of the sun?
A. Mayonnaise. Cover your entire body in mayonnaise. If you go to the beach while covered in mayonnaise, be sure to add a layer of sand to your skin-protecting layer of mayonnaise. This keeps the seagulls from trying to eat the mayonnaise off your pasty white body. Trust me, you don’t want to be the guy that finds out the hard way that, feeding hot mayonnaise to seagulls is illegal.
Q. What is the best way to cool off in the summer?
A. Surprisingly enough, it’s not mayonnaise. The best way to cool down in the summer is to never go outside. Not even to feed yourself. Crank up the air conditioning, order hours of movies and TV shows from Netflix and either get used to eating pizza or pay your friends to bring you food. If this is done correctly you can get fat enough to be one of those guys that they have to get a forklift to get them out of bed. Then you can sell pictures of yourself to tabloid magazines and pay the rent that way.
Q. What is the most fun summertime activity that I can do?
A. In true Platonic style, I will not tell you what the most fun summertime activity is. I will tell you which ones aren’t. The worst ones to make the list are: bee agitating, running fast in a snowsuit, getting rabies shots, knife catching, logging, paper-cut fights and applecart races. I really thought that last one was going to be fun.
Q. What are the Do’s and Don’ts of swimming in a public pool?
A. Do: Bring sunscreen. Don’t: Bring binoculars. Do: Wear respectable swimming attire. Don’t: Pour blood in the pool. Do: Bring a book or light-reading material. Don’t: Hang out on the side of the shallow end of the pool, patting little kids on their butts while saying, “Great cannonball Jimmy.” Do: Wear sunglasses. Don’t: Hang out underwater with a diving mask and snorkel and stare at people’s bathing suit areas.
So there you have it. If you follow these guidelines to safe, summer fun having, you just might find yourself knee deep in summer fun and restraining-order-free.
Neil, May 8th 2007
Oh, what a lucky day it is today for all you Indicators fans viewing this blog! I have been let in on an exciting new product sure to revolutionize the way we listen to music. Remember this is to be kept quiet; nobody outside of our circle needs to know about this, at least not yet. It’s called a “Cassette Player.” Right away it has a
cooler name than the iPod. What I have been told as of this morning is that you won’t need to run anything on your computer, no pesky iTunes or similar hack-crap program. The “Cassette Player” will run independent from any other electronic devices. The only thing needed is something called a “cassette.” Now, I am not sure exactly what this is but my source told me its some type of rectangular encasing that fits inside the “Cassette Player” and plays that way. Want a different artist or album? Simply insert another cassette. The earphones seem to work similar to the earphones we’re used to but given the uniqueness of this product, don’t be surprised if an entirely different sound comes out! The Cassette Player is so new and so underground you won’t find them on any website or any electronic store just yet. Rest assure all you Indicators-heads out there, I have no doubts it will be appearing on shelves on, or before Christmas. As soon as I get the “Cassette Player” from my source, I’ll bring it to a show, not to brag but to show each of you how complete your life is going to be as soon as you get yours. I gave my source $275 up-front. He promised to send me the Player in the mail before it hits shelves, I can’t wait!
Your friend,
Neil
Lil’ James, April 12, 2007
In All Seriousness
I have a disease Indicator fans. No, it was not from that time at the Phi Tau party. No, it was not from that time that I confused the super-adhesive glue with the Waldorf salad. And no, it was not from my venture into macramé with live mice. It’s something I was born with, and its called Unseriousnessitis (Un-seer-eee-usss-nusss-eye-tisss.) It’s the inability to be serious. Now, I know what you’re thinking, because I can read minds across computer-waves, but Unserousnessitis is…well…it’s serious. I cannot take anything seriously. You name it; I make a joke out of it. For instance, I overdrew my bank account and had -66 dollars in the bank. My parents asked me if I had an emergency plan. I said “Yes, but stopping, dropping, and rolling isn’t the best idea right now.” Another example, I recently was driving with some people on my way to Franks (the best place ever, on Preston Hwy. near McDonalds) and my friend, who I shall call “Cold Bones” noticed an elderly woman standing at a grave in a Cemetery, obviously mourning a lost loved one. She commented, “Oh, that’s sad” to which I replied, “ Yeah, somebody really ought to cut that grass!”
So you see, I can take nothing seriously. You can try to talk to me like a big boy about life issues and politics, but in the end, I’m just thinking about how funny it would be to see a turtle trying to use a hoola-hoop. You thought about it just now, didn’t you? Go ahead, I got a second. Okay, done? Okay, me too. Just remember this disease next time you see me, because it’s real. I’m serious. But not really.
-Lil’ James
Candace, April 11, 2007
If you dwell in the outside world, at any point in your day I'm sure
you've noticed the lovely weather we have been having lately. Now, I
understand it's just spring, not summer, and all that hoopla jazz
but…come on! I mean what a cock tease a week of beautiful sunny 80
degree weather and then BAM! Winter! We went a whole winter without
winter weather why do we have to have it now at the beginning of
April! But…I digress. The point is I have figured out why the weather
has gone Jekyll and Hyde on us. Terrorism. It's all those folks who
are trying to steal our freedom, kids; they have realized that big
things like planes in buildings don't get them very far, so this time
they are getting us where it really hurts, our sun time. They have
sabotaged the weather! Those bastards, they have purposefully sent
rain clouds and cold fronts over to our neck of the woods and kept all
the beautiful precious sunshine for their greedy evil selves. They
know that us Americans love to go outside and soak up the sun, drink
our brews, eat our dead cow, and blow up things (or shoot things
depending on your states laws.) I tell you, it makes me angry. Damn
terrorists, who knows what they'll do next. Take away our McDonalds.
Thank god we have good leadership in this country and can sleep at
night knowing that this injustice against god's greatest creation
(Americans) will not go unpunished! I have full faith in W, I know he
will smite them, and smite them good. Amen, God has Blessed America.
Now pass me a PBR!
Jesus loves you,
Candace
Lil’ James March 26, 2007
Well, I would like to let everyone know that I am now officially not scared of blogging anymore. I’ve been seeing a specialist at a special place and now I’M in a special place. Since I started blogging six weeks ago, I have lost 74 lbs. My mind is sharp and so are the knives in my kitchen. I would like to announce that I no longer have a fear of midgets, except the ones that sneak up on me at the mall and try to take my moon shoes—They don’t REALLY make you jump higher!—
That being said, I would like to start all of you Indicators fans (I know there’s a lot of you now) on the “Lil’ James’ Blog Off all the Fatness that is all over Your Fat, Fat Body Blog Sweetness Diet.” It is a twelve-year workout that requires you to go many places and put many different objects into you left nostril, your LEFT nostril.
In reading this book I promise you that you will* lose at least a hundred lbs. Good luck and happy Blogging!!
*Will not and actually you have no chance you idiots. God, none of this is real and you should be slapped for reading it and taking it seriously.
Matt, March 19, 2007
A lot of people who know me know that there is something wrong with me. It’s no secret. I am odd. A lot of people, who aren’t used to it, ask me what is wrong with me. I have been thinking about it seriously and I have compiled a list of things that have surely contributed to who I am.
Paradox. When I was a child I took movies very literally. The movie Short Circuit really screwed with me. After seeing it I started thinking about, “What if other inanimate objects have feelings too?” Do you realize how stupid you feel when you are apologizing to the toothpaste tube for squeezing a little too hard? I don’t know if this is the cause of me being crazy or a result. I think it’s both. Thus, it’s a paradox.
Garden Hoe. I was hit in the head with a garden hoe when I was 5. It hurt. Another kid did it on accident. I Bled. 8 Stitches.
I once killed a guy. I was in Chicago and a homeless guy came up to me asking for money. When I told him no, he got very irate and violent. He grabbed on to me. In reaction I pushed him away from me, throwing him towards the street. He stumbled into the street backwards and was hit by a…naw I’m just kidding. I’ve never killed a guy.
Leisure Suit Larry. Some people may remember this game. For those who don’t, Leisure Suit Larry was the type of game where they would ask you trivia questions that only someone over 25 would know. That way kids can’t play it. I used to have my dad come to the computer and tell me the answers to the questions. Then I would spend hours figuring out a convoluted puzzle all the while, boffing hookers, playing black jack and talking to drunken (notice the a) seamen. This is how I learned my social skills.
All these things and many more have made me who I am. So remember kids, read books and eat the triangle of vitamins, grains and berries. Someday you’ll grow up to be as big and bat-shit-nuts as me.
Brandon, March 12, 2007
One number says it all.
300.
As I write this I am no longer the bright-eyed boy who gleefully performed night after night in pizzerias and bars for a handful of adoring fans. My arms have been hardened with self-inflicted, invisible scars; my jeans and button up shirts have become my battle-weary armor. After girding myself in the trappings of a true man, I take up spear and shield and look into the eyes of my enemy.
They are cold. They are calculating. They are dead.
Beside my honorable king Leonidas I fight and plunge forward, leaving a swath of dead Arabs, Africans, rhinos, elephants and anything else that stands in the way of my freedom. As the bodies pile up I make steaks of them and grill them on an open flame, taking the tenderest cuts for myself and feeling the blood run down my chin.
My spatula and “Kiss the Cook” apron are badges of honor that hark back to the days when men were men and Persians were…black. I realize now that I am the type of man who slips off my wife’s fantasy tunic and views the beautiful outline of her spray-tanned body in the moonlight while at the same time admiring her skyscraper nipples in a gratuitous yet nothing but masculine sex montage.
Emotions. I have none. Fears. Well, those are emotions too, and twice evaporated. Desire to live. That’s gone. I am an animated spirit of vengeance and wrath. There are times in a man’s life when he realizes that being a giant among infants is unimportant. This…is not one of them. Pussies.
-Brandocles, the 236th Spartan
Candace, March 5, 2007
I don’t know if you guys know this, but Indicating has not proved to be a lucrative profession as of yet. Thus, I am forced to work what they call a “day job” which I am convinced means a job that will suck your soul right out of your body leaving you a lifeless corpse who just meanders around aimlessly hoping one day you’ll marry someone with enough money so that you will never have to work again and you can truly focus on your little “hobby” (i.e.…theater) that you spent four years of college getting a degree in. But, I digress. Really, the job’s not that bad, I mean I do get to answer phones and listen to just how unintelligent the general population has become. It all proves to be very beneficial to character and sketch ideas.
Now to protect the innocent I shall only tell you that I work in a hospital in this fair city that is named after a University in the same fair city. So, I deal with sick people. Not on a regular basis but, they do like to call and argue with me about things I have absolutely no control over. I mean I’m basically a receptionist but I am constantly asked to cure someone’s back pain, answer their insurance questions, bathe their dogs, hold their hand as they pee, and direct them to the McDonald’s down the street. All these things pale in comparison to the learned individuals who walk these halls. But, I won’t get into that. I’m too nice.
In closing, do what you love people. If I didn’t have theater I think my head would fall off. My day job is fine, I enjoy comparing everything to the theater world to the scientific minded as I watch them have a breakdown over the lack of paper when there is five boxes right next to them. To (loosely) quote the “great” movie theater movie Bigger Than The Sky, if you think this is bad, you should see Tech Week. Oh my, yeah that’s good, I know all you theater kids get it. Good stuff. This is Candace signing off now, wishing you all the best in making all your dreams come true.
The Indicators
Kind of like Disneyland…but better!
Ben, February 26, 2007
This Blog’s For You
The Indicators have joined in a Corporate Alliance with the Miller Company, manufacturing quality beers and services for over 5,500 years. The Indicators (from here on referred to as “We” or “The Company,”) feel that entering in a era of quality beer and improv will unite our efforts of making people forget about how unattractive they are and how beautiful we are. We have decided that by aligning The Company with such recognizable brands such as The Beast and The Champaign of Beers, we can work together with Miller to share in individual successes. The first of many commercial spots featuring The Company will begin airing in late March with the tag line “Indicators, Australian for Improv.” ”Miller has a very recognizable fan base with it’s Super Bowl commercials and highly affective green bottles, and we cannot wait to be a part of it.” James Cronin, Indicator. ”The Indicators have been performing improv in Louisville since, like, forever; to pass on the opportunity to join forces with them would be a monumental loss for our company.” Bill Miller, Miller Brewing Company. The Indicators are a privately owned company since 2005. Miller Brewing is a privately traded company (NYS: MBC) since 3493 BC.
Robert, February 20, 2007
Neck-Brace Yourself
Hanging around the Emergency Room for seven hours guarantees one thing, and nope it is not the chance to see the Doctor. It guarantees time to think about random bullshit for example: I wonder………
Can deaf people hear silence; if so are they still deaf?
Has Flavor Flav ever been late for a dentist appointment?
Remember in the 80’s when everyone wondered who’s career would last longer Prince or Michael Jackson? Well I guess we know the answer now.
Where was the All State Man when I got hit?
Was Slim Fast the reason the Fat Boys broke up?
Will O.J Simpson write a book called If I Would have been Anna Nicole’s Baby’s Daddy?
Why are there handicap parking at Hip-Hop clubs, can you throw some D’s on a Wheelchair?
Why is Batman considered a Super Hero, when he does not have any super powers?
Will VH1 put out a show called the Mexican Rapper?
Why do people call you at home and ask you where you’re at?
What happen to the little boy from the Sixth Sense?
This blog was sponsored by B.M.W (Black Man Wondering)
1-Luv,
Robert “R.G” Greene
Matt, February 19, 2007
I am sitting in an intro to computer programming class as I type this. Admittedly I don’t know the first thing about computer programming, and I should probably be listening. Normally I would, but this is not a normal situation. My teacher must have the worst communication skills of any teacher EVER. She is explaining the fact that, in code, a “local statement” trumps or overrides a “global statement”. Once again, it would be fine if she just said that. Instead she is saying, “like a like um local statement takes like presidents over like um a like global like statement.” That’s right “presidents” not precedent. I want to scream and walk out. The only thing keeping me from doing that is typing this.
I really enjoy school. Really. I actually get something from it. I like to learn and I sincerely feel a sense of accomplishment when I finish a class. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not get the same feeling from this class. Rather, I will feel as though I wasted every Monday and Wednesday evening for four months.
We just finished inserting a very simple line of code into the program after an hour of convoluted explanation. On top of that we spent an entire class during our last meeting making the interface for the program. What did all of this work and time do for humanity? It made the world’s stupidest calculator. It’s not that the calculator doesn’t work. It’s the fact that the highest calculation possible is multiplying 6 by 6. There was actually a math prerequisite for this class. Basically this program takes whichever button that is selected in the number 1 column and multiplies it with whichever button is selected in the number 2 column.
Below is a picture of this wonderful program performing its most difficult calculation:
It’s not that I don’t enjoy and appreciate an easy class every now and then, but this is going a little too far.
Neil, February 5, 2007
Questions to digest over breakfast, at a luncheon but, never at the dinner table:
1) Why do fat people insist on wearing sweat pants and sweat shirts? They look awful already, why make things worse?
2) Why doesn’t the U.S. government try to make steps toward free healthcare? Even our ass-backward neighbors to the north, the Canadians, have figured that out.
3) How do completely unfunny comedians and troupes have articles written about them so frequently in this town? Note: As of yet, The Indicators have not been covered by any closet right-wing newspaper or, trendy hipster magazines (free or not you’re covering the wrong source material!).
4) What makes these high school students think PDA, in any social environment, is okay? Why are they so damn happy and huggy – kids, it’s not going to last!
And now something for you gals to chew on, that is, the ones who wear thongs. I have noticed in my experience with women, that on nights where sex or other related events are almost sure to happen, thongs seem to be the underwear of choice. I recently read an article which explained that the thong, having its thin strip slide into the slit of the butt, is actually quite unhygienic. The lovely whirlpool world of the anus often expels bacteria, which thanks to the material wedged in the rear, easily slides down and right into the glory box. That’s right ladies; you get an extra dose of bacteria every time you put on a thong, how unfortunate for you and your loved one.
Matt, January 29, 2007
A lot of people think babies are cute. Well I say screw babies and their smug sense of self-importance. Y’know when you’re holding a baby in your arms and you’re talking all cute to them and they start giggling. Cute huh? Screw that! I used to think that they were just laughing at the change of light and shadow but then I really thought about it. What they’re actually laughing at is the fact that you will probably die before them. As Stephanie Tanner would say, “How rude!”
Then there’s the whole diaper-changing thing. No wonder they think they are so much better than us. We come home after a long day of work, and this baby has crapped in its pants, and what do we do? We take off the diaper, wipe the crap off of the baby and put a clean diaper on the baby. That is bull junk! You know what I say? Do it yourself, baby! You crapped your pants, so you clean it up. What are you giggling at?
It’s time for a change, humanity. We will no longer be walked over by those who can’t even hold their own heads up. No, not literally. It’s time to make babies accountable for their own actions. Think of how quickly we could reduce Americas’ deficit if babies got a freakin’ job and payed taxes. Maybe they could get a job at Wal-mart as a greeter. Wouldn’t we all much rather be greeted by a cute baby giggling at our impending death that some old lady named Ruth that thinks Nixon is still President?
If nothing else, it would remind us to take our vitamins just so that we could prove those babies wrong and out-live them. That way we could stay strong so that we could kick the crap out of them when they reach the age of 20, just for being a baby at one point in their life. Why not start now humanity? The next time you see a person, kick their ass for being a baby when they were a baby.
Also the next time you see a baby at a party you say "Hey, baby, why don't you get a job?" Then they'll say, "Gackleshpifllshick" Then you say "I hate you. I hope you grow up to be a hippie so that you can go to Bonnapaloozastock and dance around in the mud until you get a staph infection in your urethra and die of painful urination. Oh, and by the way, LEARN TO TALK!" See argument won.
Mary, January 22, 2007
Hello to all of you Indicator fans across the universe… or at least across Metro Louisville… and not really the whole town just around U of L and maybe the Highlands… well anyways, hello! This is Miss Mary with your weekly Indicators’ blog because you all can’t get enough of us. And while most therapists would find this unhealthy, I think it’s great. I don’t have too much to write, but I wanted to pass a few ideas to you all that I think would be great for our group. As I am a big fan of reality TV,
(Who didn’t watch Flavor of Love 1 and 2?) I was thinking of some reality TV-esque games that the Indicators could play:
America’s Next Top Indicator – This is a modeling competition that all us Indicator will compete in, and sense this will be based on physical attractiveness, well we all know who will win… Neil of course, he is the most attractive woman in the group.
Survivor: Indicator Island – We are all stuck in a room together continuously doing skits. In order to win immunity, we must be funny. Who ever is not funny is voted off and the… oh wait we already do this, it’s called rehearsals.
Indicator of Love – Several lovely ladies compete for one of our single male Indicators (cannot be older than 15 yrs. if it’s James). Prerequisite: must be crazy and willing to fight. Instead of getting a rose or a clock, you’d get of course, a dildo.
The Indicator – This is like “The Apprentice” where future Indicator applicants have to compete for a place in the group. Instead of saying, “You’re fired!” we’ll say, “You suck!” And at the end instead of saying “You’re hired!” we’ll say, “You’ll starve for the rest of your life doing this crappy improv stuff like the rest of us!”
Lil' James, January 15, 2007
When Big James Cronin told me I needed to blog for him, I said I wasn’t into that kind of thing and that he needed to take that Hollywood sex-stuff back to Cali. When I later found out what a blog was, I replaced Big James’ window that I had thrown a brick through and asked him for some help. He told me that to first blog you must become the blog and that the blog was inside me. I told him that was some karate-kid bullshit and I threw another brick through his window. In closing, I would like to say that blogging can be fun, if you have enough bricks.
LiL’ James
Big James, January 8, 2007
Ok, so when I was in eighth grade my brother, who was just a year behind me in school, ran for student council representative. He lost. I went up to the girl who beat him and, in front of about 20 people, I told her the only reason that she won was because she had bigger tits than he did. People laughed. She did not. She cried. She told on me. I was sent to the middle school principal’s office. Ms. Knutsen sat me down and told me that I had to learn how to use my editing loop. “Editing loop?” I asked. She said that everyone has a censor in his or her brain that tells us whether or not we should say what we’re thinking. I said ok. I said I’m sorry. I acted like I understood. I left.
Some ten years later, I feel it is high time for me to admit publicly that I have no idea what Ms. Knutsen was talking about. If I have an editing loop in my brain it certainly isn’t preventing me from speaking my mind. If anything, my editing loop asks only one question: “Will people laugh at what I say?” If the answer is even a maybe, I’ll take my chances.
My only problem has been the number of people I’ve offended over the years. I mean, come on people. We’ve got to lighten up! Life is too short. If you can’t take a joke, move to France. The French aren’t funny. They never laugh. If you can, you should come to an Indicators show. Or watch a Woody Allen film, he’s pretty funny too.
Christine, January 1, 2007
Today is the last day of the year and I’m usually very nostalgic when things like this happen. (By the time that you read this, it will already be 2007.) December 31st should feel like the last day of school, or the last day of a vacation. However, I didn’t really do anything special or pass any milestones (that I remember). Now, I know this is hard sometimes, but don’t model yourselves after me. I hope that everyone out there who is reading this will try to remember one thing. It’s important to think about it. It makes us feel like we’re not useless. What made you happy in 2006?
Just for you, I will try to remember something. Okay. Here it goes: (two minutes later) I rekindled a friendship with my best friend from the 3rd grade to the 10th. There. That wasn’t so hard. Like a band-aid. Now you try.
Good job!
I think that we should all try a little harder to make the best out of 2007. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to have a new years resolution, but weekly resolutions. Or, if I can’t handle that, maybe monthly resolutions. (During the first week, I will try to stop judging people.) If everyone has more resolutions, maybe the world will be a better place!
Peace Out,
Christine
Candace, December 25th, 2006
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
HAPPY HANUKKAH!
HAPPY KWANZA!
HAPPY JESUS’ BIRTHDAY!
Or…whatever you celebrate. I’m sorry, no offense or whatever…(actually, I don’t really care if you take offense because this is just MY opinion and opinions are our god-given right, and I choose to use this right.) but, what the h-e-double hockey sticks is this Happy Holidays crap? I mean, it’s almost illegal to say Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, or whatever holiday you celebrate. My ten-year-old sister is not allowed to bring anything to school signifying Christmas; she can only bring Happy Holidays crap! I mean what is the harm in wishing someone a Happy SPECIFIC holiday! With all this trying to be “PC”, not get on anyone’s bad side, or not offending anyone we are just stripping away any sense we may have of what we believe in. Christmas’ are always memorable in my family and it’s not because it’s Christmas, specifically, but because of the spirit of the season and the happiness that just seems to exude from even the meanest of scrooges. What is the harm in that? Why can’t I celebrate the feeling of the season? Why can’t I be happy with my Christmas?
The moral is…celebrate whatever you want to, say whatever you want to to do it…just be nice to people while you do. Have a little faith in anything. Be happy. In the end that’s all life is about and I don’t know about you, but I like life. It’s fun.
OH! And don’t forget…Jesus loves you! But not as much as The Indicators do!
Love,
Candace
Brandon, December 18th, 2006
Joy to the world, there’s no one home…
and I am all alone.
I’m typing up a blog
to satisfy the mob.
Well how are all of you?
I’m thinking of you too.
I’m fine, thanks, that’s nice of you,
now that will do.
A lame but heartfelt song for all of you very dedicated fans out there to help you through this hectic shopping week. As you’re making a mad dash between stores, forget that there may not be a white Christmas this year, and try not to shoot yourself simply to silence all the Christmas songs and commercials that have been saturating your brain since Thanksgiving. Now, when you’re out there, listen to your own heart, and think of whom you are doing it all for…your friends and loved ones. And no matter how practical and thoughtful it may seem, never get someone blank CD’s as a Christmas present. They only cause pain. Buy candles with neutral scents or gift cards instead.
P.S. Be a kid again.
Love and pleasant present openings…
- Brandon -
Ben, December 11th, 2006
Welcome to our world, welcome to our world, welcome to our world of blogs! Since we are knee deep in the holiday shopping season I thought I would begin this blog with the FAO Schwartz theme song. So when you’re at the mall this week and you’re spending more money than you have, I want you to hum that little tune and remember the indicators. One of the problems that I have encountered this holiday season while working a retail location has been the constant amount of attention. Usually in a retail job, one can blend into the background and not deal with hoards of unintelligent people that barely know the people they shop for. However, not everyone is an Indicator. I can’t walk ten feet without being recognized as the “shirt-less” Indicator. Then I have to hear a thirty minute monologue about how cute little James is or how good Rob’s Forrest Whitaker impression is. Look, I know it must be a thrill to see one of your favorite comedic personalities out in public; but honestly people, I’m not that interested in you. I don’t want to hear about how funny your cousin is and how we should let him audition, or how you’ve written this really funny story about a chicken and an egg fighting over who came first, and that we should develop it...just let it go. In short, I know that there is a certain amount of hero-worship that comes with being an Indicator; all I ask is that you exercise a little restraint; no one likes an angry mob. XOXOXO kisses, Ben
Matt, December 5th, 2006
I know it's a Tuesday and you're all like, "Hey I thought you were only supposed to put stuff up every Monday asshole!" And I'm like, "Stop yelling at me, I knew I should have listened to my mother and married George W. instead of you. She was right when she said I could learn to live with the embarrassment." But I figured while I was here I might as well put something up just to get things started. So I'm going to tell you a story...
Once upon a time there was a reindeer. This reindeer wasn't like all the other reindeer because he had a red nose and it glowed. (reindeer IS plural for reindeer, now get off my back...No YOU don't talk to ME that way...I am tired of this! I don't have an attitude. Oh that's right, just roll your eyes and cross your arms, that'll solve everything. Are you gonna bring that up everytime we argue? I've told you, I'm sorry, it'll never happen again! I know she's your sister but she was begging for it...literally! Okay, I'll tell you what, why don't we just forget about this whole story thing and this silly little argument and go to Gattiland. I'll play ski-ball to get enough tickets to win you that giant Sponge-Bob knock off you've been wanting, we can eat our fill of pizza and you can give me road head on the way home...Awww, I love you too.)
Lil' James, September 11th 2007
Walking down the aisle of my local grocery store, I suddenly stopped to notice a whole new section. It wasn’t free hamburgers or an ice-cream machine that spat out three different flavors, it was an entire aisle dedicated to Gay Foods. Now, being a straight man with a taught record of heterosexuality, I ventured down the aisle curiously. To my left, I noticed a large box of Queerio’s! The box contained only the letters “O” and “I”. (come on, picture two O’s and an I. What does it look like? Ok.)
I moved down a bit further to the frozen Gay Foods. Did you know Ryan Seacrest has a whole line of Frozen Cockcicles? They’re called Push-Cocks. You put your fist up the backside, and creamy goodness comes out the top!
Finally, I was at the desserts. After some browsing, I noticed a fellow grab the last box of something. I called to him, “Hey, whatcha got there?” He replied, “ Oh, why it’s the last box of Fag Newtons. They’re not just cookies, they’re cake for Fruits!”
Neil, August 3rd 2007
Parting the clouds of ignorance:
In my now one month return to the single life (la vida loca, some may call it), I have spent a great deal of time thinking about the opposite sex. I have thought, philosophized and even scientifically researched how to make myself more attractive and irresistible to women. At the risk of sounding a bit pompous, I have discovered some rather groundbreaking facts. It has been noted for years upon years that women want a man that reminds them of their father. This information is simply wrong and quite misguided. Women want men that remind them of their grandfathers. I will give you all a moment to let this earth-shattering theory, soon to be law, sink in…
I am now addressing all you male Indicator fans out there. I want to impart to you some wisdom on how to use my new discovery to your advantage. The first thing to do is throw away all your fancy upper-class yuppie puppy colognes and saunter down to your local K-mart for these fine products; (1) Jovan’s Musk and or Stetson. (2) A bottle of Brute aftershave lotion, this may burn like hell but the reward is priceless. (3) Last but certainly not least, no more Axe body deodorant, it’s a fad that’ll have a worse impact than Hammer pants. Reach back to the days of Sinatra and the Rat Pack, and get a true lasting legend, Old Spice original scent.
If you apply these to your body a simple reaction will occur with the ladies. Scientists call this “scent memory,” it will remind them of “Grandpa” and they will instantly feel safe and secure. That my men friends is the true key to sexy sexy pick ups. Feel free to explore wardrobe changes also, like sweater vest or even hard candy in your pockets at all times. Investigate, have fun, don’t break too many hearts and impart this wisdom to only those who deserve it. Thank you for your time.
Lil' James, June 26 2007
I was driving around our glorious town of Louisville the other day and noticed many wonderful things that you can do if you’re bored.
For instance, the homeless people in Louisville area are a fine point of entertainment. Just walk right up to a bum and he will regale you with hours of WWII stories and various encounters with ‘the Man.’ Another great thing to do is to tell a bum you saw his bum friend take a swig of his enormous can of cheap beer. This will cause a Bum Fight. I do not condone Bum Fighting, but I do love it.
Another great thing to do around Louisville is to go to public buildings and leave boxes in front of them. Now, don’t put anything in the box, unless it’s a note that says, “ Wait, you didn’t think this was a bomb, did you? Gosh I’m sorry, what a ninny I am!”
If all this fails go to your local mall and tell old people that you are their grandchild and you need $20 to buy them some more denture cream. Do not buy denture cream. Instead buy large cans of cheap beer and set up booby-traps to capture bums.
Matt, June 26 2007
With the latest revelations in Global Warming, it is no secret that humans on Earth are like fleas on a dog and Global Warming is the Front Line flea remover. It is important to learn all the ways you can have a safe summer this summer. That is why I have compiled a list of frequently asked questions about summer. I have then provided the answers to these questions. I legally have to say that if you take some of the advice listed below you might die. Maybe.
Q. How can I enjoy the summer outdoors but still be safe from the damaging rays of the sun?
A. Mayonnaise. Cover your entire body in mayonnaise. If you go to the beach while covered in mayonnaise, be sure to add a layer of sand to your skin-protecting layer of mayonnaise. This keeps the seagulls from trying to eat the mayonnaise off your pasty white body. Trust me, you don’t want to be the guy that finds out the hard way that, feeding hot mayonnaise to seagulls is illegal.
Q. What is the best way to cool off in the summer?
A. Surprisingly enough, it’s not mayonnaise. The best way to cool down in the summer is to never go outside. Not even to feed yourself. Crank up the air conditioning, order hours of movies and TV shows from Netflix and either get used to eating pizza or pay your friends to bring you food. If this is done correctly you can get fat enough to be one of those guys that they have to get a forklift to get them out of bed. Then you can sell pictures of yourself to tabloid magazines and pay the rent that way.
Q. What is the most fun summertime activity that I can do?
A. In true Platonic style, I will not tell you what the most fun summertime activity is. I will tell you which ones aren’t. The worst ones to make the list are: bee agitating, running fast in a snowsuit, getting rabies shots, knife catching, logging, paper-cut fights and applecart races. I really thought that last one was going to be fun.
Q. What are the Do’s and Don’ts of swimming in a public pool?
A. Do: Bring sunscreen. Don’t: Bring binoculars. Do: Wear respectable swimming attire. Don’t: Pour blood in the pool. Do: Bring a book or light-reading material. Don’t: Hang out on the side of the shallow end of the pool, patting little kids on their butts while saying, “Great cannonball Jimmy.” Do: Wear sunglasses. Don’t: Hang out underwater with a diving mask and snorkel and stare at people’s bathing suit areas.
So there you have it. If you follow these guidelines to safe, summer fun having, you just might find yourself knee deep in summer fun and restraining-order-free.
Neil, May 8th 2007
Oh, what a lucky day it is today for all you Indicators fans viewing this blog! I have been let in on an exciting new product sure to revolutionize the way we listen to music. Remember this is to be kept quiet; nobody outside of our circle needs to know about this, at least not yet. It’s called a “Cassette Player.” Right away it has a
cooler name than the iPod. What I have been told as of this morning is that you won’t need to run anything on your computer, no pesky iTunes or similar hack-crap program. The “Cassette Player” will run independent from any other electronic devices. The only thing needed is something called a “cassette.” Now, I am not sure exactly what this is but my source told me its some type of rectangular encasing that fits inside the “Cassette Player” and plays that way. Want a different artist or album? Simply insert another cassette. The earphones seem to work similar to the earphones we’re used to but given the uniqueness of this product, don’t be surprised if an entirely different sound comes out! The Cassette Player is so new and so underground you won’t find them on any website or any electronic store just yet. Rest assure all you Indicators-heads out there, I have no doubts it will be appearing on shelves on, or before Christmas. As soon as I get the “Cassette Player” from my source, I’ll bring it to a show, not to brag but to show each of you how complete your life is going to be as soon as you get yours. I gave my source $275 up-front. He promised to send me the Player in the mail before it hits shelves, I can’t wait!
Your friend,
Neil
Lil’ James, April 12, 2007
In All Seriousness
I have a disease Indicator fans. No, it was not from that time at the Phi Tau party. No, it was not from that time that I confused the super-adhesive glue with the Waldorf salad. And no, it was not from my venture into macramé with live mice. It’s something I was born with, and its called Unseriousnessitis (Un-seer-eee-usss-nusss-eye-tisss.) It’s the inability to be serious. Now, I know what you’re thinking, because I can read minds across computer-waves, but Unserousnessitis is…well…it’s serious. I cannot take anything seriously. You name it; I make a joke out of it. For instance, I overdrew my bank account and had -66 dollars in the bank. My parents asked me if I had an emergency plan. I said “Yes, but stopping, dropping, and rolling isn’t the best idea right now.” Another example, I recently was driving with some people on my way to Franks (the best place ever, on Preston Hwy. near McDonalds) and my friend, who I shall call “Cold Bones” noticed an elderly woman standing at a grave in a Cemetery, obviously mourning a lost loved one. She commented, “Oh, that’s sad” to which I replied, “ Yeah, somebody really ought to cut that grass!”
So you see, I can take nothing seriously. You can try to talk to me like a big boy about life issues and politics, but in the end, I’m just thinking about how funny it would be to see a turtle trying to use a hoola-hoop. You thought about it just now, didn’t you? Go ahead, I got a second. Okay, done? Okay, me too. Just remember this disease next time you see me, because it’s real. I’m serious. But not really.
-Lil’ James
Candace, April 11, 2007
If you dwell in the outside world, at any point in your day I'm sure
you've noticed the lovely weather we have been having lately. Now, I
understand it's just spring, not summer, and all that hoopla jazz
but…come on! I mean what a cock tease a week of beautiful sunny 80
degree weather and then BAM! Winter! We went a whole winter without
winter weather why do we have to have it now at the beginning of
April! But…I digress. The point is I have figured out why the weather
has gone Jekyll and Hyde on us. Terrorism. It's all those folks who
are trying to steal our freedom, kids; they have realized that big
things like planes in buildings don't get them very far, so this time
they are getting us where it really hurts, our sun time. They have
sabotaged the weather! Those bastards, they have purposefully sent
rain clouds and cold fronts over to our neck of the woods and kept all
the beautiful precious sunshine for their greedy evil selves. They
know that us Americans love to go outside and soak up the sun, drink
our brews, eat our dead cow, and blow up things (or shoot things
depending on your states laws.) I tell you, it makes me angry. Damn
terrorists, who knows what they'll do next. Take away our McDonalds.
Thank god we have good leadership in this country and can sleep at
night knowing that this injustice against god's greatest creation
(Americans) will not go unpunished! I have full faith in W, I know he
will smite them, and smite them good. Amen, God has Blessed America.
Now pass me a PBR!
Jesus loves you,
Candace
Lil’ James March 26, 2007
Well, I would like to let everyone know that I am now officially not scared of blogging anymore. I’ve been seeing a specialist at a special place and now I’M in a special place. Since I started blogging six weeks ago, I have lost 74 lbs. My mind is sharp and so are the knives in my kitchen. I would like to announce that I no longer have a fear of midgets, except the ones that sneak up on me at the mall and try to take my moon shoes—They don’t REALLY make you jump higher!—
That being said, I would like to start all of you Indicators fans (I know there’s a lot of you now) on the “Lil’ James’ Blog Off all the Fatness that is all over Your Fat, Fat Body Blog Sweetness Diet.” It is a twelve-year workout that requires you to go many places and put many different objects into you left nostril, your LEFT nostril.
In reading this book I promise you that you will* lose at least a hundred lbs. Good luck and happy Blogging!!
*Will not and actually you have no chance you idiots. God, none of this is real and you should be slapped for reading it and taking it seriously.
Matt, March 19, 2007
A lot of people who know me know that there is something wrong with me. It’s no secret. I am odd. A lot of people, who aren’t used to it, ask me what is wrong with me. I have been thinking about it seriously and I have compiled a list of things that have surely contributed to who I am.
Paradox. When I was a child I took movies very literally. The movie Short Circuit really screwed with me. After seeing it I started thinking about, “What if other inanimate objects have feelings too?” Do you realize how stupid you feel when you are apologizing to the toothpaste tube for squeezing a little too hard? I don’t know if this is the cause of me being crazy or a result. I think it’s both. Thus, it’s a paradox.
Garden Hoe. I was hit in the head with a garden hoe when I was 5. It hurt. Another kid did it on accident. I Bled. 8 Stitches.
I once killed a guy. I was in Chicago and a homeless guy came up to me asking for money. When I told him no, he got very irate and violent. He grabbed on to me. In reaction I pushed him away from me, throwing him towards the street. He stumbled into the street backwards and was hit by a…naw I’m just kidding. I’ve never killed a guy.
Leisure Suit Larry. Some people may remember this game. For those who don’t, Leisure Suit Larry was the type of game where they would ask you trivia questions that only someone over 25 would know. That way kids can’t play it. I used to have my dad come to the computer and tell me the answers to the questions. Then I would spend hours figuring out a convoluted puzzle all the while, boffing hookers, playing black jack and talking to drunken (notice the a) seamen. This is how I learned my social skills.
All these things and many more have made me who I am. So remember kids, read books and eat the triangle of vitamins, grains and berries. Someday you’ll grow up to be as big and bat-shit-nuts as me.
Brandon, March 12, 2007
One number says it all.
300.
As I write this I am no longer the bright-eyed boy who gleefully performed night after night in pizzerias and bars for a handful of adoring fans. My arms have been hardened with self-inflicted, invisible scars; my jeans and button up shirts have become my battle-weary armor. After girding myself in the trappings of a true man, I take up spear and shield and look into the eyes of my enemy.
They are cold. They are calculating. They are dead.
Beside my honorable king Leonidas I fight and plunge forward, leaving a swath of dead Arabs, Africans, rhinos, elephants and anything else that stands in the way of my freedom. As the bodies pile up I make steaks of them and grill them on an open flame, taking the tenderest cuts for myself and feeling the blood run down my chin.
My spatula and “Kiss the Cook” apron are badges of honor that hark back to the days when men were men and Persians were…black. I realize now that I am the type of man who slips off my wife’s fantasy tunic and views the beautiful outline of her spray-tanned body in the moonlight while at the same time admiring her skyscraper nipples in a gratuitous yet nothing but masculine sex montage.
Emotions. I have none. Fears. Well, those are emotions too, and twice evaporated. Desire to live. That’s gone. I am an animated spirit of vengeance and wrath. There are times in a man’s life when he realizes that being a giant among infants is unimportant. This…is not one of them. Pussies.
-Brandocles, the 236th Spartan
Candace, March 5, 2007
I don’t know if you guys know this, but Indicating has not proved to be a lucrative profession as of yet. Thus, I am forced to work what they call a “day job” which I am convinced means a job that will suck your soul right out of your body leaving you a lifeless corpse who just meanders around aimlessly hoping one day you’ll marry someone with enough money so that you will never have to work again and you can truly focus on your little “hobby” (i.e.…theater) that you spent four years of college getting a degree in. But, I digress. Really, the job’s not that bad, I mean I do get to answer phones and listen to just how unintelligent the general population has become. It all proves to be very beneficial to character and sketch ideas.
Now to protect the innocent I shall only tell you that I work in a hospital in this fair city that is named after a University in the same fair city. So, I deal with sick people. Not on a regular basis but, they do like to call and argue with me about things I have absolutely no control over. I mean I’m basically a receptionist but I am constantly asked to cure someone’s back pain, answer their insurance questions, bathe their dogs, hold their hand as they pee, and direct them to the McDonald’s down the street. All these things pale in comparison to the learned individuals who walk these halls. But, I won’t get into that. I’m too nice.
In closing, do what you love people. If I didn’t have theater I think my head would fall off. My day job is fine, I enjoy comparing everything to the theater world to the scientific minded as I watch them have a breakdown over the lack of paper when there is five boxes right next to them. To (loosely) quote the “great” movie theater movie Bigger Than The Sky, if you think this is bad, you should see Tech Week. Oh my, yeah that’s good, I know all you theater kids get it. Good stuff. This is Candace signing off now, wishing you all the best in making all your dreams come true.
The Indicators
Kind of like Disneyland…but better!
Ben, February 26, 2007
This Blog’s For You
The Indicators have joined in a Corporate Alliance with the Miller Company, manufacturing quality beers and services for over 5,500 years. The Indicators (from here on referred to as “We” or “The Company,”) feel that entering in a era of quality beer and improv will unite our efforts of making people forget about how unattractive they are and how beautiful we are. We have decided that by aligning The Company with such recognizable brands such as The Beast and The Champaign of Beers, we can work together with Miller to share in individual successes. The first of many commercial spots featuring The Company will begin airing in late March with the tag line “Indicators, Australian for Improv.” ”Miller has a very recognizable fan base with it’s Super Bowl commercials and highly affective green bottles, and we cannot wait to be a part of it.” James Cronin, Indicator. ”The Indicators have been performing improv in Louisville since, like, forever; to pass on the opportunity to join forces with them would be a monumental loss for our company.” Bill Miller, Miller Brewing Company. The Indicators are a privately owned company since 2005. Miller Brewing is a privately traded company (NYS: MBC) since 3493 BC.
Robert, February 20, 2007
Neck-Brace Yourself
Hanging around the Emergency Room for seven hours guarantees one thing, and nope it is not the chance to see the Doctor. It guarantees time to think about random bullshit for example: I wonder………
Can deaf people hear silence; if so are they still deaf?
Has Flavor Flav ever been late for a dentist appointment?
Remember in the 80’s when everyone wondered who’s career would last longer Prince or Michael Jackson? Well I guess we know the answer now.
Where was the All State Man when I got hit?
Was Slim Fast the reason the Fat Boys broke up?
Will O.J Simpson write a book called If I Would have been Anna Nicole’s Baby’s Daddy?
Why are there handicap parking at Hip-Hop clubs, can you throw some D’s on a Wheelchair?
Why is Batman considered a Super Hero, when he does not have any super powers?
Will VH1 put out a show called the Mexican Rapper?
Why do people call you at home and ask you where you’re at?
What happen to the little boy from the Sixth Sense?
This blog was sponsored by B.M.W (Black Man Wondering)
1-Luv,
Robert “R.G” Greene
Matt, February 19, 2007
I am sitting in an intro to computer programming class as I type this. Admittedly I don’t know the first thing about computer programming, and I should probably be listening. Normally I would, but this is not a normal situation. My teacher must have the worst communication skills of any teacher EVER. She is explaining the fact that, in code, a “local statement” trumps or overrides a “global statement”. Once again, it would be fine if she just said that. Instead she is saying, “like a like um local statement takes like presidents over like um a like global like statement.” That’s right “presidents” not precedent. I want to scream and walk out. The only thing keeping me from doing that is typing this.
I really enjoy school. Really. I actually get something from it. I like to learn and I sincerely feel a sense of accomplishment when I finish a class. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not get the same feeling from this class. Rather, I will feel as though I wasted every Monday and Wednesday evening for four months.
We just finished inserting a very simple line of code into the program after an hour of convoluted explanation. On top of that we spent an entire class during our last meeting making the interface for the program. What did all of this work and time do for humanity? It made the world’s stupidest calculator. It’s not that the calculator doesn’t work. It’s the fact that the highest calculation possible is multiplying 6 by 6. There was actually a math prerequisite for this class. Basically this program takes whichever button that is selected in the number 1 column and multiplies it with whichever button is selected in the number 2 column.
Below is a picture of this wonderful program performing its most difficult calculation:
It’s not that I don’t enjoy and appreciate an easy class every now and then, but this is going a little too far.
Neil, February 5, 2007
Questions to digest over breakfast, at a luncheon but, never at the dinner table:
1) Why do fat people insist on wearing sweat pants and sweat shirts? They look awful already, why make things worse?
2) Why doesn’t the U.S. government try to make steps toward free healthcare? Even our ass-backward neighbors to the north, the Canadians, have figured that out.
3) How do completely unfunny comedians and troupes have articles written about them so frequently in this town? Note: As of yet, The Indicators have not been covered by any closet right-wing newspaper or, trendy hipster magazines (free or not you’re covering the wrong source material!).
4) What makes these high school students think PDA, in any social environment, is okay? Why are they so damn happy and huggy – kids, it’s not going to last!
And now something for you gals to chew on, that is, the ones who wear thongs. I have noticed in my experience with women, that on nights where sex or other related events are almost sure to happen, thongs seem to be the underwear of choice. I recently read an article which explained that the thong, having its thin strip slide into the slit of the butt, is actually quite unhygienic. The lovely whirlpool world of the anus often expels bacteria, which thanks to the material wedged in the rear, easily slides down and right into the glory box. That’s right ladies; you get an extra dose of bacteria every time you put on a thong, how unfortunate for you and your loved one.
Matt, January 29, 2007
A lot of people think babies are cute. Well I say screw babies and their smug sense of self-importance. Y’know when you’re holding a baby in your arms and you’re talking all cute to them and they start giggling. Cute huh? Screw that! I used to think that they were just laughing at the change of light and shadow but then I really thought about it. What they’re actually laughing at is the fact that you will probably die before them. As Stephanie Tanner would say, “How rude!”
Then there’s the whole diaper-changing thing. No wonder they think they are so much better than us. We come home after a long day of work, and this baby has crapped in its pants, and what do we do? We take off the diaper, wipe the crap off of the baby and put a clean diaper on the baby. That is bull junk! You know what I say? Do it yourself, baby! You crapped your pants, so you clean it up. What are you giggling at?
It’s time for a change, humanity. We will no longer be walked over by those who can’t even hold their own heads up. No, not literally. It’s time to make babies accountable for their own actions. Think of how quickly we could reduce Americas’ deficit if babies got a freakin’ job and payed taxes. Maybe they could get a job at Wal-mart as a greeter. Wouldn’t we all much rather be greeted by a cute baby giggling at our impending death that some old lady named Ruth that thinks Nixon is still President?
If nothing else, it would remind us to take our vitamins just so that we could prove those babies wrong and out-live them. That way we could stay strong so that we could kick the crap out of them when they reach the age of 20, just for being a baby at one point in their life. Why not start now humanity? The next time you see a person, kick their ass for being a baby when they were a baby.
Also the next time you see a baby at a party you say "Hey, baby, why don't you get a job?" Then they'll say, "Gackleshpifllshick" Then you say "I hate you. I hope you grow up to be a hippie so that you can go to Bonnapaloozastock and dance around in the mud until you get a staph infection in your urethra and die of painful urination. Oh, and by the way, LEARN TO TALK!" See argument won.
Mary, January 22, 2007
Hello to all of you Indicator fans across the universe… or at least across Metro Louisville… and not really the whole town just around U of L and maybe the Highlands… well anyways, hello! This is Miss Mary with your weekly Indicators’ blog because you all can’t get enough of us. And while most therapists would find this unhealthy, I think it’s great. I don’t have too much to write, but I wanted to pass a few ideas to you all that I think would be great for our group. As I am a big fan of reality TV,
(Who didn’t watch Flavor of Love 1 and 2?) I was thinking of some reality TV-esque games that the Indicators could play:
America’s Next Top Indicator – This is a modeling competition that all us Indicator will compete in, and sense this will be based on physical attractiveness, well we all know who will win… Neil of course, he is the most attractive woman in the group.
Survivor: Indicator Island – We are all stuck in a room together continuously doing skits. In order to win immunity, we must be funny. Who ever is not funny is voted off and the… oh wait we already do this, it’s called rehearsals.
Indicator of Love – Several lovely ladies compete for one of our single male Indicators (cannot be older than 15 yrs. if it’s James). Prerequisite: must be crazy and willing to fight. Instead of getting a rose or a clock, you’d get of course, a dildo.
The Indicator – This is like “The Apprentice” where future Indicator applicants have to compete for a place in the group. Instead of saying, “You’re fired!” we’ll say, “You suck!” And at the end instead of saying “You’re hired!” we’ll say, “You’ll starve for the rest of your life doing this crappy improv stuff like the rest of us!”
Lil' James, January 15, 2007
When Big James Cronin told me I needed to blog for him, I said I wasn’t into that kind of thing and that he needed to take that Hollywood sex-stuff back to Cali. When I later found out what a blog was, I replaced Big James’ window that I had thrown a brick through and asked him for some help. He told me that to first blog you must become the blog and that the blog was inside me. I told him that was some karate-kid bullshit and I threw another brick through his window. In closing, I would like to say that blogging can be fun, if you have enough bricks.
LiL’ James
Big James, January 8, 2007
Ok, so when I was in eighth grade my brother, who was just a year behind me in school, ran for student council representative. He lost. I went up to the girl who beat him and, in front of about 20 people, I told her the only reason that she won was because she had bigger tits than he did. People laughed. She did not. She cried. She told on me. I was sent to the middle school principal’s office. Ms. Knutsen sat me down and told me that I had to learn how to use my editing loop. “Editing loop?” I asked. She said that everyone has a censor in his or her brain that tells us whether or not we should say what we’re thinking. I said ok. I said I’m sorry. I acted like I understood. I left.
Some ten years later, I feel it is high time for me to admit publicly that I have no idea what Ms. Knutsen was talking about. If I have an editing loop in my brain it certainly isn’t preventing me from speaking my mind. If anything, my editing loop asks only one question: “Will people laugh at what I say?” If the answer is even a maybe, I’ll take my chances.
My only problem has been the number of people I’ve offended over the years. I mean, come on people. We’ve got to lighten up! Life is too short. If you can’t take a joke, move to France. The French aren’t funny. They never laugh. If you can, you should come to an Indicators show. Or watch a Woody Allen film, he’s pretty funny too.
Christine, January 1, 2007
Today is the last day of the year and I’m usually very nostalgic when things like this happen. (By the time that you read this, it will already be 2007.) December 31st should feel like the last day of school, or the last day of a vacation. However, I didn’t really do anything special or pass any milestones (that I remember). Now, I know this is hard sometimes, but don’t model yourselves after me. I hope that everyone out there who is reading this will try to remember one thing. It’s important to think about it. It makes us feel like we’re not useless. What made you happy in 2006?
Just for you, I will try to remember something. Okay. Here it goes: (two minutes later) I rekindled a friendship with my best friend from the 3rd grade to the 10th. There. That wasn’t so hard. Like a band-aid. Now you try.
Good job!
I think that we should all try a little harder to make the best out of 2007. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to have a new years resolution, but weekly resolutions. Or, if I can’t handle that, maybe monthly resolutions. (During the first week, I will try to stop judging people.) If everyone has more resolutions, maybe the world will be a better place!
Peace Out,
Christine
Candace, December 25th, 2006
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
HAPPY HANUKKAH!
HAPPY KWANZA!
HAPPY JESUS’ BIRTHDAY!
Or…whatever you celebrate. I’m sorry, no offense or whatever…(actually, I don’t really care if you take offense because this is just MY opinion and opinions are our god-given right, and I choose to use this right.) but, what the h-e-double hockey sticks is this Happy Holidays crap? I mean, it’s almost illegal to say Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, or whatever holiday you celebrate. My ten-year-old sister is not allowed to bring anything to school signifying Christmas; she can only bring Happy Holidays crap! I mean what is the harm in wishing someone a Happy SPECIFIC holiday! With all this trying to be “PC”, not get on anyone’s bad side, or not offending anyone we are just stripping away any sense we may have of what we believe in. Christmas’ are always memorable in my family and it’s not because it’s Christmas, specifically, but because of the spirit of the season and the happiness that just seems to exude from even the meanest of scrooges. What is the harm in that? Why can’t I celebrate the feeling of the season? Why can’t I be happy with my Christmas?
The moral is…celebrate whatever you want to, say whatever you want to to do it…just be nice to people while you do. Have a little faith in anything. Be happy. In the end that’s all life is about and I don’t know about you, but I like life. It’s fun.
OH! And don’t forget…Jesus loves you! But not as much as The Indicators do!
Love,
Candace
Brandon, December 18th, 2006
Joy to the world, there’s no one home…
and I am all alone.
I’m typing up a blog
to satisfy the mob.
Well how are all of you?
I’m thinking of you too.
I’m fine, thanks, that’s nice of you,
now that will do.
A lame but heartfelt song for all of you very dedicated fans out there to help you through this hectic shopping week. As you’re making a mad dash between stores, forget that there may not be a white Christmas this year, and try not to shoot yourself simply to silence all the Christmas songs and commercials that have been saturating your brain since Thanksgiving. Now, when you’re out there, listen to your own heart, and think of whom you are doing it all for…your friends and loved ones. And no matter how practical and thoughtful it may seem, never get someone blank CD’s as a Christmas present. They only cause pain. Buy candles with neutral scents or gift cards instead.
P.S. Be a kid again.
Love and pleasant present openings…
- Brandon -
Ben, December 11th, 2006
Welcome to our world, welcome to our world, welcome to our world of blogs! Since we are knee deep in the holiday shopping season I thought I would begin this blog with the FAO Schwartz theme song. So when you’re at the mall this week and you’re spending more money than you have, I want you to hum that little tune and remember the indicators. One of the problems that I have encountered this holiday season while working a retail location has been the constant amount of attention. Usually in a retail job, one can blend into the background and not deal with hoards of unintelligent people that barely know the people they shop for. However, not everyone is an Indicator. I can’t walk ten feet without being recognized as the “shirt-less” Indicator. Then I have to hear a thirty minute monologue about how cute little James is or how good Rob’s Forrest Whitaker impression is. Look, I know it must be a thrill to see one of your favorite comedic personalities out in public; but honestly people, I’m not that interested in you. I don’t want to hear about how funny your cousin is and how we should let him audition, or how you’ve written this really funny story about a chicken and an egg fighting over who came first, and that we should develop it...just let it go. In short, I know that there is a certain amount of hero-worship that comes with being an Indicator; all I ask is that you exercise a little restraint; no one likes an angry mob. XOXOXO kisses, Ben
Matt, December 5th, 2006
I know it's a Tuesday and you're all like, "Hey I thought you were only supposed to put stuff up every Monday asshole!" And I'm like, "Stop yelling at me, I knew I should have listened to my mother and married George W. instead of you. She was right when she said I could learn to live with the embarrassment." But I figured while I was here I might as well put something up just to get things started. So I'm going to tell you a story...
Once upon a time there was a reindeer. This reindeer wasn't like all the other reindeer because he had a red nose and it glowed. (reindeer IS plural for reindeer, now get off my back...No YOU don't talk to ME that way...I am tired of this! I don't have an attitude. Oh that's right, just roll your eyes and cross your arms, that'll solve everything. Are you gonna bring that up everytime we argue? I've told you, I'm sorry, it'll never happen again! I know she's your sister but she was begging for it...literally! Okay, I'll tell you what, why don't we just forget about this whole story thing and this silly little argument and go to Gattiland. I'll play ski-ball to get enough tickets to win you that giant Sponge-Bob knock off you've been wanting, we can eat our fill of pizza and you can give me road head on the way home...Awww, I love you too.)
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