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Rawb has been shepharding these maps since 1999. He was [[Sablina | Sablina's]] official webhost, and once she went and walked herself in [[leucro | leucros]], he acquired permission to continue hosting them. He then found [[Ranik]] to continue creating maps. Ranik has since left, as far as anyone can tell.
==Pictures==


'''AIM: rawbicles'''
<html><img src="http://photos-452.facebook.com/n14/143/64/24411922/n24411922_30020452_2660.jpg" height="189" width="270"/> <img src="http://photos-500.facebook.com/n3/00/85/n24411922_30008500_7079.jpg" height="225" width="300"/></html>

== 100 Things about me (written like 3 or 4 years ago)==
My name is Rob, and I was born in the 80's... back when Atari was undisputably 'the shit'.

I like to tell everyone that I live in New York City, and everyone likes to tell me how exciting that is.

Some of the more local people will ask what part of New York City I'm from, and rather than trap myself in a web of lies, I tell them Staten Island. Then they ask me if I have cancer, and if they're really thinking of turning the landfill into a ski slope.

Despite the overwhelming majority of trash on the island (black, white, and manufactured, etc ) from a wide variety of sources (Staten Island having the largest landfill in the world), I managed to grow up in a secluded life filled with private schools, nuns, and other shit I'd rather have not dealt with. Then again, dealing with the trash doesn't seem like much of an alternative.

I was a loser in grade school. I had long hair, and glasses about an inch thick. This didn't do much for my self-esteem. I was a loser in junior-high. The hair and glasses didn't go away. Trying to change this growing pattern, I cut my hair and got contacts in high school. The label, however, remained.

I thought I was a l33t hax0r for a while when I first got AOL. Well... l33t hax0r and loser both start with L... so I wasn't THAT far off.

I went to sleepaway camp with the hopes that I would make new friends. While I slept through most of it, I was intrigued enough to explore the possibility of dorkhood over the unacceptable 'loser' label.

I like to think of myself as a dork now. The distinction may be lost on a lot of you, but there's a fine line. Dork's are generally jovial, and are always making fools out of themselves... they also make really bad jokes. Loser's just sit there taking up space. I *AM* generally jovial, and I *do* make a ton of bad jokes...

I went on a trip to Europe to become cultured and learn all sorts of things. Eastern Washington University asked me what I learned, and I made up enough bullshit to get 12 college credits. I'm good at bullshitting. It's an acquired skill.

I remember when I was called to the dean's office in high school for "cutting" a class. The dean was named "Miss Klinger", was 5'3, Russian, and suffered from Napolean Complex. Hundreds cowered in her wake. I managed to change the topic of the meeting to which books I think she should read and what sociological impact they may or may not have. Twenty minutes after I arrived, she asked me, "Aren't I supposed to be yelling at you?" That was some quality bullshit.

One time I asked my mom something... I said, "Mom, do I have a lisp?". She said "A list of what, hon?". I stopped asking her things after that.

The protective dork-blanket can still occasionally dissipate if I don't feel comfortable with present company, or the company that is present... or the president of the company...

Speaking of companies, I've never worked at a real one. Hell, I've never really worked for that matter. I once had an internship for a real company, but my only duties were to sit in the computer room and tell people who wandered in where people who should be there were and why they werent where they should be. This wasn't the most intellectually stimulating job out there; As a matter of fact, alphabetizing books might have been more interesting. Or maybe memorizing the dictionary.

I've always memorized a lot of movie quotes. Often times I only have to see the movie once or twice to gleam a dozen or more quotes for use in every-day speech. I've always been one to throw a random quote out when people don't expect it.

Ever since I was a baby, I've never learned what you don't say to people, or how to say things without offending them. When I was 3 in the grocery store, I decided to apply a movie quote to a passerby. The quote was from Jaws and had to do with catching an extremely large fish. The passerby was a great fat woman. The quote was not well received.

One summer I even went so far as to explain to a girl that she wasn't "as fat as she thinks she is", because she had clearly let her imagination run away from her. I thought it was a compliment. She thought she never wanted to talk to me again. She was wrong! HA! I win!

My inability to communicate led to less communication... which led to less ability to communicate. In some respects, I'm not the 19 years old I say I am.

At camp this summer, one of the well-known quotes was that Rob Stryker is a 12 year old boy in what looks like a 16 year old body, that just happens to have been around for 19 years.

For a while, my mom thought I had a thing for older women. Well, when you're eternally a 12 year old boy, 17 year olds *are* older women, aren't they? Hell, they're more mature than I'll ever be ;)

I'm essentially a big kid. I want to be a kid forever. I want to live on a huge wide-open floor like in the movie "Big" with a giant trampoline, floor-to-ceiling windows, and pinball machines. I'm willing to forgo the bunk-bed part. But... I still get to be on top.

I want my kids to grow up in an environment that can foster learning, critical thinking, and personal developement. After being through both the public and private school systems, I've decided both are inadequate. My kid will have only the best. He'll also have a bunch of circus equipment at his fingertips.

I must have forgotten to mention that. When I was at camp and wasn't unconscious, I was partaking in the circus program. I learned trapeze for three years. I taught it this past summer. I think sports, and things like it, help kids to gain immense self-confidence.

I've borrowed my brother's unicycle, but haven't had an opportunity to practice riding it... I haven't even gotten an opportunity to practice falling off of it. School is very busy this year.

Speaking of my brother, he's 10 years old. He hasn't started riding, or falling from, the unicycle yet either. He HAS started using the internet more often though. Just a few days ago, he sent me an IM telling me to check out a flash video. I was so proud.

I love flash videos. I've been collecting them for 2 years now. I hate shitty flash videos. I also hate flash videos that take too long to get to the point. I try to keep my collection to a 'creme de la creme' standard.

I've often wondered if I have attention deficiet disorder. My aforementioned brother does. I also wonder if ADD is just a natural product of a fast-paced society characterized by information overload, a filter mechanism. Even the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times work on an inverted pyramid writing format. I, on the other hand, will be sure to put some very important fact as the 95th item on this list... forcing you to read through it all, while not allowing you the luxury to skip straight to the last item.

Despite our potential ADD, the men in my family will always try to stop the women from bickering with each other at family gatherings, or just at dinner.

Our preferred method is to break out into a three-man chorus of the mario song. Most of the arguements stop by the time we get to the water world.

If that doesn't work, we just start yelling 'Aflac!' over and over. We figure that if the arguements don't stop, at least we'll have supplemental insurance to pay for our loss of hearing.

I've discovered that it's a rare breed of female who can enjoy the aflac commercials the way I do.

I got my dad the aflac duck for his birthday. The duck's vocabularly was limited, but that only added to his charm.

My dad gave me the middle finger when I gave him the aflac duck.

I remember the first time my dad gave me the middle finger. I was on the bus to go to camp, and he was outside waving to me. I gave him the finger, and he gave it back. The kids on the bus gawked at my dad, and cheered. The parents outside spluttered about the uncouth child extending his finger in their general direction and shattering the paper-thin illusion that there would be a better breed of young men at the camp.

At camp, I developed a crush on one of the volleyball counselors. She also taught newspaper.

Now I write occasionally, and am manager of the women's volleyball team at college. No... it's not a coincidence.

One year, that counselor didn't come back, and a new one replaced her. The new one sprained her ankle one day. I helped her up to the infirmary, and then read her two 20-page kid stories. I used many different voices. Her abdomen hurt more than her ankle when I was done.

I was one of the only counselors who would read, or make up, stories for the campers this summer. One night, a camper of mine made up a scary story. He told it to me in front of everyone. It took him 2 minutes to tell. Then I told it. It took 40 minutes. The next day, the kid who made it up asked me if it was true or not.

You have no idea how wierd it is to be a 12 year old boy in charge of watching eight to ten 8-10 year olds.

When I was in grade school... I couldn't put a sentence together if my life depended on it.

I'm a Computer Science major. I've been told I should be a teacher, a liberal arts major, an actuary, a mathematician, and a dozen other things.

I don't see a point in changing majors. It's a waste of time and money. At 28k a year, I'm not wasting a minute.

Well, I like to think I'm not. The sad reality is that I probably am.

I'm a B student. I've been a B student ever since 7th grade, when I got my first 89 average.

This event was extremely tramautic... for my mother.

One time, my mom called my dorm and left a message. Imagine an Italian mother from Brooklyn who thinks she's Jewish. Just think "The Nanny".

For the rest of the week, I must have had 30 different people tell me my mother called. For some reason, they all had Italian Brooklyn pseudo-Jewish accents when they told me, too.

When I was younger, I used to do a great imitation of the Indian guy from Short Circuit.

Sometimes, when my grandmother was feeling down, I'd call her up and let fly a few stereotypical phrases about 7-11s and slushies, accent included.

Despite being able to make people laugh, to keep people interested in all sorts of conversations, and having perfected dorkhood, I often feel that something is missing.

I was given a practice shirt for the volleyball team, for being the manager. While the shirt is now missing, I don't think that's what I'm talking about.

I also managed to ruin the elastic in the volleyball jacket I was given.

Combine all that with my face-plant and you may say that I'm accident prone.

Combine THAT with my ability to fall asleep anywhere and the next time you see me I may have a penis drawn on my forehead, with my own marker, the location of which I gave away in my half-conscious stupor.

You may just want to sum it all up and say I'm oblivious to a lot of things.

And no... I wasn't drunk during any of these situations. I don't get drunk. I'm only 12, remember?

I remember one time I drank though. It was my 19th? birthday, if there's a such thing as a twelve year old's 19th birthday.

Before the party, I convinced a friend to race me down a hill. It was a steep hill, and it was a rolling race.

One of the 15 year old campers thought she could beat me, and so she challenged me. I kicked her ass, Princess Bride Style.

My wallet decided to make a quick get-away from it's captivity during the race. So did my credit card.

My sobriety and dignity both skipped out later on in the evening. I still haven't forgiven them for abandoning me like that.

I have forgiven my sister though. She once threw a boulder on my back. I was young. The emotional trauma was immense. The physical trauma was virtually nonexistant.

I have a tendency to zone out sometimes. I'll be thinking about something so deeply that I won't hear people call my name, or ask me a question.

This used to happen in calculus all the time, back in high school. I zoned out from the lecture, though, to ponder the fifth integral and exactly what it represented. I got a 75 in the class.

I also got a 5 on the BC-calculus exam. This, too, was traumatic for my mom, who said I was an underachiever.

I've often tried to reduce life into simple equations... or sometimes really complex ones. The relationship equation is a tough one, but it seems to be mostly dependent on "time-spent" and "quality of time-spent".

I tried to reduce the meaning of life to a simple equation too. After a while I gave up and decided to accept "Deep Thought's" answer of 42. My answer was closer to 69, but at least they're at the same order of magnitude. Once again, I wasn't THAT far off.

Not THAT far off is the story of my life. Well, part of it. This whole page is the story of my life.

Speaking of pages, I've been writing web pages since I was 10. This was back when I was a l33t hax0r. This web site now has about 3000 lines of php code.

I like cheezy pick-up lines. My favorite one is "Can you help me look for my puppy? He's just run away. I think I saw him run into that sleezy motel over there..."

I was writing a letter once to a friend, but I lost the address, so I just kept writing until I filled an entire notebook. A good 20 pages was a story about Odie, the Dog King of 42nd street. He ran away from me, into a sleezy motel of course, and apparently he's doing quite well for himself.

In the story, I couldn't convince any young women to help me look for my dog in a place like that. It seems that even in my dreams, I get turned down.

I really DO have a dog named Odie. He is a little white bishan friece who has more energy than god. He's yet to run away to the motel, though.

One of my favorite things to do is juggle three or four tennis balls in front of my dog, and then throw them all one after the other, usually in different directions.

I taught myself to juggle AFTER I had stopped going to camp, and I played tennis whenever I was at my country house.

I was never big on sports though. I tried to play basketball in 2nd grade and one day I got two points. I was so happy... they put me in the game, and I delivered... for the other team.

In High School I was in the volleyball club. I'd always mess up after about 40 minutes, and my play, which was never great, would deteriorate severely. I thought I just couldn't pay attention. It turns out too much motion causes my eyes to cross again, even with my contacts in.

I'm also missing a tooth. It didn't get knocked out or anything. It just never decided to show up. The missing tooth is on my shitlist right about now... right next to my sobriety and dignity, who abandoned me on my birthday.

As a senior in high school, our parents had to write us a farewell letter, because it was assumed we were all going to college. Then we had to read these letters in front of the class. My mom decided to get creative and write a poem. The poem said I should use a condom so we don't have little Robs knocking on our doors in 15 years.

This was the same class that I first used my radio-announcer voice. We had to pretend we were on a radio show, and everyone else had a monotone like the guys on really bad talk radio. I had two voices, and a plot. I've never seen 30 kids wake up that fast before.

The same thing happened freshman year of college, where I gave a speech about the human genome to a class of 40 sleeping people. I had to stop several times because people kept falling over, and my teacher called me a nazi.

My roommate last year thought my family was Jewish. I don't look Jewish at all, but apparently my dad does, and my mom looks, sounds, and acts it.

My roommate cut his hair pretty close sometimes, and at nights he'd poke me with a plastic trident. We'd beat the crap out of each other in the middle of the night. He must have forgotten I wasn't Jewish.

I remember sleeping in the back of the family car once when my mom drove past some run-down facility near our country house. Then she yelled "The Matzliach is JUMPING tonight!" For a few minutes, I thought I WAS Jewish.

Our country house was a 90 second walk to a ski slope. I've been skiing since I was eight. My brother's been skiing since he was two.

I broke my wrist snowboarding a few years ago. It's that damn accident-prone thing getting in the way again.

Breaking my wrist was the real reason I never tried out for the volleyball team in high-school. At least, that was the case Sophomore year. By Junior year I figured it was too late to join a sports team.

I was never a very 'active' person, and I went from uber-skinny to a very different build; people often say I look like I work out. Now I do, because I'm afraid that if I don't, I'll turn into Dennis Nedry or Newman.

I'm not very good at this working out thing. I'm trying to keep with it, and we'll have to see how I do.

I'm an AIM addict. Often times I'll just sit at my computer checking everyone's away messages over and over. They don't change very often from one moment to the next.

I'm probably doing that right now actually.

"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined efforts of everybody i've ever known."

My mom wants to know why her effort hasn't been included. I don't really have an answer.

I've decided not to put that earth-shaking fact about me at item 95 or whatever. There really wasn't one to begin with. I've pretty much told it all. I just like building suspense and screwing with people's minds.

I wish I had a lot more to say... I wish I led a more interesting life.

I'd like to say I have no regrets, but I have several. I try not to dwell on them though, because theres nothing you can do to change the past.

I used to dwell on things a lot. It was really bad for me. I drove myself crazy, and probably made things worse than they really are. Worrying about things never gets anyone anywhere.

Well, it did get me to the film screenings because I needed something to keep my mind occupied. They were pretty fun, and I saw a lot of good short films from the kids on campus.

I really do love my family... and sometimes I worry I don't see them enough, or even know enough about them. I feel like I'm abandoning them by never being around.

I think, in the end, everything works out... one way or another.

I just hope I don't do another face-plant.

Latest revision as of 17:21, 18 March 2007

Rawb has been shepharding these maps since 1999. He was Sablina's official webhost, and once she went and walked herself in leucros, he acquired permission to continue hosting them. He then found Ranik to continue creating maps. Ranik has since left, as far as anyone can tell.

AIM: rawbicles

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