Fob East Bay, First Meeting

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Fob East Bay met for the first time today; charter members Theric and Jane Dough were in attendance with their respective spouses Lady Steed and Data, both of whom proved able critics (Data, for instance, even having that thericonian habit of not being able to spit out just what the heck he's trying to say before first saying what he's not trying to say a good seventy-five times). Mascot Petra was not in attendance, as she was engaged in worship of the Most High God.

This was appropriate as the evening's first selection was one of Theric's contributions to the pending Fob Bible. He received several helpful notes and hopes to post a new version of the tale to Fobfiles sometime tomorrow, Friday at the latest.

Jane Dough brought the opening pages to her new novel for fifteen-year-olds (and their neighbors in age). The amount of insanity and brain trauma present was on par for a fobbian YA novel, so all may rejoice.

Also, for a goodly portion of her reading and the subsequent critique, the Big O was tossing walruses over heads and into laps. Typical.

The next scheduled meeting of Fob East Bay is two weeks from now, less two hours and fifteen minutes.

note: this was not recorded live.

Fob Mar 1

I'd like to say, first of all, that though this is published under the name "Weed" this is a communal effort.

And I've been told that I need to provide a brief introduction of myself because there is many a Fob who doesn't know me. I teach English and history to seventh graders, and I'm here in Seattle studying to be a therapist. I go into shock at anything having to do with collision with bodies. I have a scar on my chin that I got when I fell in the bathtub as a one-year-old. My left eye is uncorrectably legally blind. And, done.

Hi! My name is Tolkien Boy. I live in a constant state of paranoia about my many obligations. For example, I often am given the obligation to record the minutes of FOB. FOB minutes, while being fun to record, are often so difficult in their scope and emotional content that it gives me ulcer pains when I think of the great responsibility laid upon me.

Speaking of "laid," Master Fob indicates that his next work will be a tour de force which exposes the worlds of superheroEs and religious zealots alike in a stunning work reminiscent of Dan Brown in his least egregious moments. He rose to brilliant heights of narrative excellence, including the unprecedented dialogue snippet: "..." Tolkien Boy was greatly impressed, as well, by his appropriation of a certain soon-to-be-divorced celebrity (Thom Cruz) into his cult, which apparently includes both gerontophilism (the love of old people) and cluckbuckcluckism (the unusual treatment of chickens, viz a viz sacrifice). Weed (aforementioned) proposed a reenactment of said rites: the motion was voted down two to three (Tolkien Boy pulled in his imaginary friends Juan and Cindy to help close the deal).

Hi, I'm Master Fob. You may remember me from such Foblog posts as "Fob June 18th" and "The Twelve Fobs of Christmas." Neither of those told you about Tolkien Boy's latest masterpiece, though, which is a gripping tale of babies left on doorsteps and Mormons with unending supplies of diapers and in which it is okay, after all, to speak of liking Karen Carpenter, but only if it is an innocent child that does so.

Nor do those posts, fabulous as they are, detail the latest installment of Weed's epic fantasy about paper-eaters, Harper Collins, and his cousin Harper Lee. But surely they are, at least the one that is Fob minutes, as obscure to anyone who wasn't actually there as this one is.

And, just so you know, I have a scar on my forehead and a birthmark on my butt that is not as aesthetically pleasing as the one on my thigh. And now I will let Weed tell you all about Sir Jupiter's contribution to Fob tonight.

In closing, Sir Jupiter is dead to us. Until he comes back. And then he'll, perhaps, favor us with a selection. But until that time, we mourn. Deeply. Because of the death. And because Tolkien Boy just talked about getting naked and smearing himself in paste.

P.S. (from Tolkien Boy) What does P.S. mean?
P.S. Bye.

FOB February 15

Master Fob’s shortened story, a young man in a car,
who wondered if gayness his mission would mar.
Sir Jupiter told of creatures from not-distant star
discussing how humans make food beyond par.
Tolkien Boy wrote of men in a strange wedded bliss
who wondered if fatherhood compared to this.
While Weed, who worried he might be remiss
nevertheless had good cause FOB to miss.

FOB February 1

Today's FOB Post is brought to you by the letters E, N, P, and S, and by the letter 1.

EPISODE ONE: Weed Monster and the letter S.

Weed Monster: Hello, everyone! Today I'd like to introduce my good friend the letter S. (To offstage) C'mon out, don't be shy...(large letter S enters, hissing sibilantly) The letter S has helped me write a story--hey! Story starts with S! (The S bows, still hissing) Some other things that start with S--hey! Some and start also start with S! So does--wait, so does so! Whew! And here I thought it would be difficult to find something that started--hey, I did it again!

(applause)

Weed Monster: So, as you can see--hee hee--S is a very important letter! Let's hear it for the scrumptious, sarcastic, amazing S!

(wild applause)

Weed Monster: (Noticing the S is still hissing) Hey, we're done here. You don't have to keep hissing.

S (over the hissing): Yes, I do--you knocked me off the bookcase and I'm leaking.

Weed Monster (rushing the S offstage): And that's the S! Thank you, thank you!

EPISODE TWO: Sir Jupiter Monster, Master Fob Monster, and the letter N. Master Fob and Sir Jupiter are sitting next to each other, comparing feet.

Master Fob Monster: I'm much bigger than you are.

Sir Jupiter Monster: Size doesn't matter.

Master Fob Monster: Your mom's size doesn't matter.

Sir Jupiter Monster: I sized your mom's matter.

Master Fob Monster: I matted your mom's size.

Sir Jupiter Monster: I seized your mom's mat.

Master Fob Monster: I made accurate measurements of your mother's subatomic constructive structure.

Sir Jupiter Monster: Oh, man--I got nothing. With a big fat capital N.
...
...
...

EPISODE THREE: Master Fob Monster, Weed Monster, and the letter E and the number 1. Master Fob Monster and Weed Monster are doodling on a large piece of butcher paper.

Master Fob Monster (making a scribbled approximation of a chubby forty-year-old man). Old men are sexy.

Weed Monster (drawing a 1): This is the letter 1. It's an important part of the chant, "We're #1!"

Master Fob Monster (drawing an E): I find gerontophilism Exciting.

Weed Monster: No one ever thinks, though, that you can't really say "We're #1" because only one person can be number one at a time.

Master Fob Monster: Also Excruciating.

Weed Monster: Perhaps people who think they're #1 will spend most of their time talking about themselves, you think?

Master Fob Monster: And Enlightening. But only when I think about it. Which I don't, honest.

Weed Monster: My #1 beats your E.

Master Fob Monster: My old man's stronger than your stupid #1.

Weed Monster: Your mom's stronger than my stupid--wait.

Master Fob Monster: Ha.

EPISODE FOUR: Tolkien Boy Monster and the letter P.

Tolkien Boy Monster: Hello, everybody! Today I'd like to tell you about one of my favorite letters, the letter P. The P really helps us out when we want to say the word plagiarism, which means "the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one's own original work." In other words, plagiarism is what happens when someone too stupid to come up with their own ideas steals someone else's, and no matter how brilliant it may have seemed to the author at the time, they're really just copying because they're stupid and can't tell a copyright from a copy machine, and if you know anyone who does it--even if they're a good friend--you should trot them out to be shot because heaven knows we don't need more derivative works squirming around in the world like so much maggots, and--

--

--I'm sorry, where was I? Oh, yes. The letter P. A wonderful letter, really. Trust me.

Fob Minutes 1/18/07

(Just the highlights.)

• Weed forgot his fobbery in a Taco Bell in Tukwila. He spent the evening in shame.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
• Baby Weed and Baby Fob flirted.
  
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
  
• Mrs. Weed was the only one to laugh at Master Fob's oh-so-clever jokes. Master Fob is considering inviting her to replace her husband in the Fob pantheon.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
  
• Sir Jupiter suggested that Master Fob sprinkle Foxy J throughout. Master Fob ensured everyone that he had already intended to do so.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
• Tolkien Boy's story stopped suddenly before the superhero and the superhenchman got to know each other. All were disappointed and look forward to reading the climax next time.
  
• Sir Jupiter ended the night with an apology.
  

FOB January 4

FOB Meeting, January 4th 2006

MEETING MINUTES

In Attendance:
Master Fob, President
Tolkien Boy, Vice-President
Weed, Secretary
Sir Jupiter, Master-At-Arms

8:30 pm Arrival of President, Vice-President, and Master-at-Arms to Secretary's home. Embrassos all around. Master-at-Arms effusively praises Secretary's decor--in response, the Secretary runs to the bathroom for some urgent "business."
8:45 pm Reading of Master-at-Arms's work entitled "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," followed by rigorous debate over the meaning of the phrase "consenting adults." The proper insertion but improper use of various female hygiene products was reviewed. Vice-President takes exception to the phrase "he brusquely declared" in relation to an apparent game of patty-cake in the text. Master-at Arms promises to revise his story, claiming he will "flesh out the mother to make the climax more satisfying."
9:30 pm Reading of President's first essay chapter, in which the President describes himself in terms of various superheros. Rumination of what the President would look like in spandex followed, with the Secretary excusing himself to the bathroom for some more urgent "business." President takes takes time to tell Master-at-Arms and Vice-President about real-life story involving his manhood--or, rather, his lack thereof. Master-at-Arms didn't hear much of the story, however, as he was still giggling over one of President's supervillians with the cute epithet "The Exhibitionist" who exposed himself to his victims before he killed them--or, as President put it, "He flashes and then slashes!"
10:15 pm Reading of the Secretary's short chapter, which bore the Vice-President-appointed title "Somewhere South of Us, I Think," which speaks of a mother's desire for her young son to see her native land. Vice-President gaffed concerning the sub-equatorial South American nation mentioned in the text and was subjected to geographically-motivated scorn. The issue of children extending from their parents' paternal trunks was raised, but Master-at-Arms ended the debate with the confession that he has done a lot of pulsating in his day.
11:00 pm Vice-President reads story concerning a middle-aged woman and a half-man, half-goat monstrosity. Much speaking of bestiality follows. The Master-at-Arms makes snide comparison of Vice-President's writing to that of Dan Brown. Frank exchange of ideas between
Vice-President and Master-at-Arms. Master-at-Arms is speedily thrust down to Hell, but not before making snide comments about how Anna Karenina's literary success preempts any other story from utilizing a railroad station as a setting.
12:00 pm Break-up of the Fobs, with many promises for future literary exploits. Vice-President excuses himself to the bathroom for some urgent "business." Business completed, embrassos all round.

NOTES FOR NEXT MEETING:

Define "acrid." Use it in a sentence.
If Robin and Batman have something going on--and no one has ever said they don't--then can you use them as an archetype of the perfect mentor/boy relationship? Wouldn't someone like Plato and Socrates be a better choice? Discuss.
What's the first thing you would notice if you walked in on a rape scene? Would it change if one of the parties was Santa Claus? Show your work.
Get naked and jump into a blackberry bramble. Make notes of where you bleed (if at all) and how much you bleed. Write your answers in cubic liters.