
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Feeling Nostalgic - Part 3.
Thursday, January 28th, 2010And just look at that shine!
Tuesday, January 19th, 2010
Calling all actors, writers, producers, directors, comedians, singer/songwriters, artists, and cultural misfits.
Monday, November 16th, 2009Do you fall into one of the categories mentioned in the title of this post? If so, I want to hear from you. I’m an editor at a super cool (and highly popular) webzine and we’re featuring a different artist (read: actor, writer, singer, juggler, etc.) each week. By “feature” I mean:
a) Your photo
b) Bio
c) A 21 question interview
d) The opportunity to plug your book, album, film, etc.
This is a great opportunity to promote yourself to a large audience. I was going to write “expose yourself” but that just sounds creepy. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, of course. Anyway, if you’re interested, shoot me an e-mail at rob@robbloom.com.
Baby.
Monday, November 2nd, 2009The reason for the lack of new posts lately? 8 lbs. of wonderfulness. On October 23, my wife and I welcomed our first child to the world. And, despite the exhaustion and the scary-as-hell reality check of “holy crap! I have to keep this creature alive!,” we haven’t stopped smiling since.
Lord Of The Fruit Flies - UPDATE.
Sunday, August 30th, 2009Whoever said “war is hell” wasn’t joking. As best I can tell, there’s still two little bastards flying around. They don’t appear to be interested in the vinegar trap and they clearly have no fear of my other attempts to kill them (mainly wild swatting and hand clapping). They don’t even seem fazed by my insults (”Hey Fly! Your momma is so fat…”).
Clearly these flies are tough. But I’m tougher. Little do they know, I just bought more vinegar.
Stay tuned.
The kid is not his son.
Monday, July 20th, 2009He lives! As evidenced by yesterday’s performance in Rittenhouse Square.

Awkward Interaction of the Week (so far).
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009Setting: Check-out lane at Target.
CASHIER (to me): Hi!
ME: Hey.
CASHIER: Well…it’s not Friday yet! (laughs)
“Mom, Can I Be Black?”
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009That’s what I asked my mom when I was six years old. The reason for my request? Michael Jackson. Like millions of others, I idolized the guy. Of course, in the case of MJ, “idolize” meant dressing up like him (complete with sequined glove, socks, and red zippered jacket) and moonwalking (as best a klutzy six year old can do) around the house.
Around 1984, Michael and his brothers traveled the country with their Victory Tour. Among their stops was Jacksonville, FL, only a few hours from our home in Coral Springs.
It sounds sappy but I’ll never forget that concert. The experience of being inside that massive outdoor stadium. The pyro, smoke machines, and dazzling special effects. Seeing Michael moonwalk so effortlessly across the stage. I was in awe.
That night, a photographer asked my parents if he could snap of photo of me in my MJ garb. A few months later, while checking out the Michael Jackson books at a mall bookstore, I saw myself in print. Unreal. The photographer, a guy named Mark Bego, had used the shot and printed it in his Victory Tour anthology “On the Road with Michael” (out-of-print but available on eBay!).
In the wake of Michael’s death, people are remembering the past and the impact Mike made on music, pop culture, and our lives. Despite the wigs and makeup, the nose jobs, the sleepovers, the surgical masks, the documentaries, the sleep chambers, the Elephant Man’s bones, the lawsuits, the pain killers, the masked children, the baby danglings, the disturbing allegations, and dozens of other crazy behaviors, I’ll always remember how I felt that night in Jacksonville. A little kid going to see a true larger-than-life personality do what he does best: entertain.
Thanks, Mike.

Yankee Doodle Somethingorother.
Saturday, June 20th, 2009I just got back from a three-day Carnival Cruise (motto: “All for fun! Fun for all!”). Each night, the ship’s entertainers put on a show. Here’s an :18 snippet of their “Tribute to America” show.
Brace yourself.
