Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
By John Updike,
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
The Telephone ConversationBy Wole Soyinka
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self- confession “Madam, I warned,
“I hate a wasted journey- I am African.”
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurised good – breeding. Voice, when it came
Lipstick-coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette- holder pipped. Caught I was foully
“HOW DARK?...... I had not misheard……
“ARE YOU LIGHT OR VERY DARK?” Button B, Button A, stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and –speak
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real. Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
“ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came
“You mean –like plain or milk chocolate?”
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality, Rapidly, wave length adjusted,
I chose “West African sepia”- and as afterthought,
“Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT IS THAT?” conceding
“DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS” “Like brunette.”
THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?” Not altogether,
Facially, I am a brunette, but Madam you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blonde. Friction caused
Foolishly, Madam – by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black- One moment – sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears- “Madam” I pleaded “wouldn’t you rather
See for yourself?”
By Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
she being Brand
by E.E. Cummings
she being Brand
know consequently a
little stiff i was
careful of her and(having
thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.
K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her
clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she
minute i was back in neutral tried and
again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity
avenue i touched the accelerator and give
her the juice,good
was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on
brakes Bothatonce and
brought allofher tremB
by Judith Ortiz Tofer
Blood tells the story of your life
in heartbeats as you live it;
bones speak in the language
of death, and flesh thins
with age when up
through your pores rises
the stuff of your origin.
when I look into the mirror I see
my grandmother's stern lips
speaking in parnetheses at the corners
of my mouth of pain and deprivation
I have never known. I recognize
my father's brows arching in disdain
over the objects of my vanity, my mother's
nervous hands smoothing lines
just appearing on my skin,
like arrows pointing downward
to our common ground.
by Robin Morgan
for Isel Rivero
Gunmen attacked a school in northwestern Rwanda last Monday, killing seventeen girls.... The Attack took place after the Hutu gunmen ordered the girls to separate into groups of ethnic Hutu or Tutsi, and the students refused to comply.
Insane, sadistic gods to whom I offer
only my denial and disgust,
how do we bear witness to each other
when such defiance gleams beyond our trust?
They stupify us, these small, nameless girls
in whose name Love linked arms with her best friend.
Courage skulks shamed before these little skulls
rotting on the grassy school playground.
Let me be worthy of such children, slain
where they stand, who in the face of dying, cling.
Let me be equal to my small, sufficient pain
and in the broken teeth of horror, sing.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
I accidentally left my leather jacket at Mike's house during the nacho party. And I let Vero Awesome keep wearing the trench coat after our date. So I ended up unable to a) find my coats or b) remember that I'd left them places last night when we were getting ready to go play Speed Scrabble at my friend Squeaker's house last night. So I decided to just go without it, since Wiggle was waiting downstairs for me and the roommate I don't really have a name for on my blog yet, so let's call him Sharkbite arbitrarily.
I figured we'd be in the house or the car the whole evening anyway, so no big whoop, right? Besides it's not like I forgot to bring Scrabble, like SOME people (ahemwigglecough).
So after six games of Catchphrase (My partnership won five of six games, though we kept switching teams), we headed back home. We dropped off Sharkbite and I decided to go with Wiggle to her house to watch the next two DVDs of Lost that she checked out at Hollywood. Well, Wiggle decided to go to bed early like a kindergarten baby, but I won't be able to watch with her any other night before they're due because of Evergreen (gonna try it again tonight), my home teachers coming, the date with Kelly, and the efy Christmas party this week. So Bekachu and I stayed up and finished them by ourselves, while itty-bitty baby Wiggie went sleepy-bye. Ok, so it was mostly my suggestion that she do so, I'll admit it.
Anyway, when it was over, I realized that it was now about 4:30 a.m. and I had to get myself the four blocks home without a jacket. I concocted a plan with Bekachu. I decided to run all the way home and then call her when I got there. If I hadn't called by the time fifteen minutes had passed, she was to wake up Wiggle and come in search of me in the car. I didn't know if you could die from just being out in the cold, but I was pretty sure you could because of that old guy on Groundhog's Day that Phil can't save, no matter what he does. I could just see myself face down and frozen solid, wedged into one of those stupid exposed gutters that people are always driving into around here.
Anyway, I made it home alive. Barely.
I have had asthma attacks intermittently my whole life. Usually every five years or so. In fact, just the other week I was wondering if I weren't due for another. Well, turns out I must have been.
When I came into the apartment, I was wheezing so badly I just collapsed onto the floor and lay still for as long as I could. My breathing and heart rates were exorbitantly high. Luckily I had collapsed near a computer, so in my panicked but dazed state I signed on to MSN messenger. Topsie was on, and it sounds like she's going to have a ridiculous day of finals and her sister's wedding, after no sleep at all last night. Poor girl. You're in my prayers. Anyway, I wasn't typing much because I could hardly breathe, and moving my fingers a lot was out of the question. Plus I kept vomiting into the trash, which sure wasn't helping anything.
I guess I got the message across, though, because she came back and said she'd prayed for me. Right after that, Pinetree signed on. I splained to him what was happening, an he said he had some Albuterol, and would bring it right over. That was great, since that was my prescription way back in the day.
About five minutes later he was administering it, and I felt my lungs and bronchi clear up immedately. The only problem was that that stuff comes with several possible side effects, according to Medline Plus Drug info. I have all of these (there are others listed):
- difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep
- rapid, pounding, or irregular heartbeat
Monday, December 12, 2005
A CTR ring. I like the nice green ones. I'm a size 11. Like this, only green:
A heavy winter coat.
A flesh-colored body suit.
Really cheap scriptures (I plan to lose them).
A cell phone.
Things I do NOT want:
A graphing calculator.
A T-shirt with the word "fart" on it.
A Boyz II Men CD.
A box of wine.
"Hey, I heard you have a girlfriend!"
"Actually, no. We broke up on Wednesday."
"Oh, I'm sorry! [pause] But that means you're single again!" [Drapes legs over mine].
[laughs] "Yeah., I guess so."
"Oh! You know who has a crush on you? Kelly from the ward."
~flashback to two days earlier, conversation with Purple Brad~
"So you guys broke up, huh?"
"Yeah, but I think it's ok. In fact, I think I might ask out Kelly from the ward next weekend."
~flash forward back to Berta on Friday~
"Wow, that's incredible! I was just telling my roommate Brad that I wanted to ask her out!"
"Well, you should. Last week she turned to me and said, 'I could totally date him,' and I said 'Oh, I think he's dating someone.'"
"Sweet. I definitely will ask her out."
"Okay, but you can't tell her that I told you that unless you two end up married some day."
~Flash forward to today, right after getting hugged by Kelly~
"So, are you still dating that girl?"
"No, we broke up."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay. It was actually a really good breakup. She ended it, but she said she'd prayed about it, and when she said that I could tell that she was right, that it just wasn't meant to be."
"Oh, well that's good. I like your sweater."
"Thanks, my friend Chris gave it to me."
"I just love old vintage sweaters."
"So do I."
"We should go to Savers some time and go shopping for them."
"How about Friday?"
"That would be great!"
"Awesome. Make it a date? And go do something else after?"
"Yeah, that sounds like fun!"
"Cool, I'm excited."
Kelly returned to her seat, where she was sandwiched by her roommates.
I found my friend Kenny and sat with him next to Amber and Stephanie, my home teachees. The choir sang two songs, and it was funny because when I went up to sing with them, I ended up in the middle (the perks of being the tallest in the choir), so our director Jake's head was obstructing my view of only one person: the Neverbird. Not that I minded seeing her, but it was good to be able to sing without looking at her. Anyway, there were some talks on having the image of Christ in your countenance. A kid in the ward named Gavin spoke last, and he talked about how he could look out at the congregation and see the light of Christ in people's eyes. Then he said, "I don't wan to include or exclude anyone, but I do want to mention a few specific examples." Then he mentioned Kenny, and the great testimony he bore last week. Then he mentioned the ward greeter, megan. And then he started talking about me, and said he didn't really hang out with me on weekends, but that he'd always felt the love of Christ in me and my smile whenever he saw me, and that he's since come to learn that I have a strong testimony and that he could tell I don't cast my pearls before swine, but I still share my beliefs with those around me." I couldn't help but smile, because Gavin himself is one in whom the light of Christ shines. It was a bit embarassing, and really ridiculous, but it made my day to know that people see me the way I always wish I were seen.
Elders' quorum was great because we talked about the nature and conception of evil, and it was taught by Bro. Giauque, one of the ward old guys. It was a profound and interesting lesson. I went to Gospel Essentials, where Karan, our Indian friend from downstairs was. We talked about the Holy Ghost. When he was asked to introduce himself in elders' quorum, he stood up and talked about how at church he had felt at home for the first time since he'd left India, and that he felt he should tell us all about how welcome everyone in the ward had made him feel. He came with us to Salt Lake City to see the temple lights tonight. I think we are making great progress with him, getting him to come to the gospel.
Rob and I went home teaching after church. First we got Jeremy, who is a really great guy. he lives with Rob, actually, and the two are best friends. He was sick and asked for a blessing for health and for clarity of mind, and I was able to tell him some things that I've never felt inspired to say in a blessing before. Then we went over to Amber and Stephanie's. The four of us joked and talked and laughed, and then we had Rob's lesson, which was great, and then before we left I told them that I hoped they knew how much Heavenly Father loves them, and that every time I saw either or both of them, I could feel that love that he had, and that he wanted the best for them, and that they should never think they deserve less. The spirit was strong there the whole time, and it was great. I love home teaching these guys, and Rob and I have a great rapport. He is also an English major, and he revealed today that he plans to transfer to Harvard. I think that's great.
Then it was off to Mike's nachos party. The nachos were first rate, and the conversation was great, too. I made friends with some kids I'd only really known in passing. One of them, my new friend Garrett, mentioned that he had been to the fireside I gave a few weeks ago, and his friend Chris said that Garrett had even blogged about it. I tried to Google that blog tonight, but I couldn't find it. Anyway, after that we went with the ward up to the temple in SLC, and I rode in Gavin's car, and we also had Tony and a different Rob, and Ben. Those guys are all really funny. Wwe walked around up there, and looked at the lights. I wandered around with Jake and Megan and a kid named Willis, who is getting ready to go on a mission. I was glad to be hanging out with him; he's a smart kid. Near the end of the evening, Rob II and I ended up cornered by some sister missionaries, and I was afraid, because usually those ladies trick me into giving them their phone numbers and telling me they'll call me at home after I've been given the chance to think of some names of some people to whom I'd like to send the missionaries. And then they call EVERY Wednesday morning, and don't leave me alone. And I mean, I had the only person I know who isn't already LDS with me at the temple that evening. So I was a bit worried that they'd start putting the pressure on. Amazingly, though, the sister missionary who focused her attentions on me asked about my own goals, and then shared an awesome scripture that helped me to see how I can work toward them. All in all, the discussion we had was uplifting and positive, and I really enjoyed it. Then we came home and I slept. I'd only gotten in three hours of sleep the night before. And now I'm awake again, and blogging.
Everything has been so spiritual lately. I don't know if you can tell that from what I've written here, but I feel so directed in everything I do lately. I love life. I fasted yesterday, which I know I'm not supposed to do for health reasons, but I was doing it for a friend and a verygood cause. The blessing for which we'd fasted came about that same day, and I felt no ill effects of the abstenance from food. There's so much joy around here. I hope everybody has a merry Christmas, and can find some gift to give to Christ for his birthday.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
So I decided to try that out during my job interview, because what the hey?
The secretary at the desk was a demure girl with an apologetic smile. I matched it, stating who I was and saying that I was "just" there for my interview.
She smiled slightly warmlier (warmerly?) and said to wait one second, then went in search of whoever it was that was going to give the interview.
Barbara emerged a moment later. Or maybe I should say she erupted. She was wearing a muumuu that was louder and more floral than an ibex stampede through and Alpine meadow. And her neck. Her neck bounced her head around flacidly like one of those stupid dashboard bulldogs. I suppose she thought she was nodding enthusiastically, but it looked more like some sort of disorder. Slinkineckitis. Now, I had already resolved to be like her, so I started in.
I moved my head up and down and up and down and around and around like I was trying to get water out of my ears or something. Her own bobble head kept moving even more sporadically than mine. After a little bit I noticed that her head didn't merely go up and down, but in a bit of an orbit, like the way the north pole goes in little circles on its way around the sun. So I threw that in, too. I also matched her Jewish-talkshow-hostess breeziness, and smiled confidently after everything I said, like I just knew she was going to love it and might even be considering writing me a little "thank-you" note for saying such wonderful things. After all, that seemed to be the reaction she expected from me.
The thought did fleetly flitter through my mind that maybe she really did have some sort of disease, and what if she thought I was mocking her. Then I realized that if it were a disease, she'd have no way of knowing that I didn't as well. If she just couldn't control how she moved her head, then she'd have to assume that neither could I. Besides, maybe my head during that interview was the only thing in her world that wasn't moving up and down all the time. Maybe it was a relief to her to see such a level-headed young man when all the world around her seemed to be moving up and down like a storm-tossed ship at sea. Okay, probably not. But SOMETHING worked.
At the end of the interview she offered me two dollars per hour more than they pay the other employees, because, as she said, she had "a good feeling about" me. Then she handed me a blank piece of paper and a pencil and instructed me to write my own schedule. So now I work when it's most convenient for me, and I love it. I'll have to remember to tell you about the retards in orientation. But that, my friends, is a story for another day.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Thursday, November 24, 2005
That it hasn't really snowed here yet.
All the Thanksgiving dinner invitations I got.
My new Nickel Creek CD.
That Novel Concept is getting season 4 of 24 on DVD for me to watch with the Neverbird.
That my brothers are married.
Pockets full of candy to give to strangers in a creepy voice.
That the library finally noticed that I quit.
That my home town was gioven a perfect Clean Air rating.
That drag queens really mostly freak me out.
That I can claim 2 on my tax forms.
That I'm still not an Eskimo (no offence, Hero and Moose).
That Wiggle's crayon box is still in the same order in which I put it about a year ago.
My ward, which is really fantastic.
National Board Game Week, which is this week.
Artificial strawberry flavoring.
My rock collection.
That I have enough clothing to cover a whole east African village.
Happiness in general, and my seemingly expanded capacity to feel it.
The sticky feeling on the floor of movie theatres.
Quaking aspens, quaking.
Cultural halls with the lights off, and running in them.
My mission companions, and the crazy promise I was given about them.
The Animaniacs, and how they helped me get an answer in Trivial Pursuit the other day.
My free engagement ring.
That the Neverbird and I seem to have the same taste in almost everything.
That she gets me.
My dad, and how much he wants the best for us, even if he's not sure what that means.
All of my wonderful friends.
Jonah chapter 4.
My roommate Brad and how understanding he's been with the whole bills thing.
That Toasteroven was able to cut my cell phone debt down to $260 somehow.
The Rice King restaurant.
Smiling strangers on BYU campus.
How weird my roommate Eric is, when we all expected he'd be the normal one.
Hot water heaters.
$2.50 sandwiches at Subway.
Dan and the film-making projects we've been working on.
Banana split flavored ice cream.
My duct tape wallet, and Nick for teaching me to make things with the stuff.
Allison, my dad's ex-girlfriend, because she still cares so much.
When the sunlight comes in all slanted, but very bright, like right now.
That I'm not an expatriate.
That juice comes out of fruit.
The Muppet Movie.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
So, I've decided the best way to report on this party is to give out awards. This will be like that annoying thing they did in the pinewood derby in cub scouts where everyone gets an award, even if it has to be very obviously made-up just so everyone feels special.
Most enthusiastic about Taboo: Red Leader
Most inexplicably upset about getting buzzed in Taboo for saying "state" when "United States" was clearly on the list, but also giver of best new violet-blue sweater and all-around good guy: Chris
Funniest overall: Squirrell, who also rocks at Taboo.
Most likely to have said things only with the vain hope to see them end up on my blog: Hero
Strangerishest: Some guy called "Rob" that seemed to come with Red Leader
Most awesome to watch in group situations because he's always so visibly aware of what's appropriate in any situation: Pinetree
Most noticeably absent: Racherella
Purveyor of the nastiest food (tofu): 'Dice
Best magma red personality: Moose
Most embarassing gift ("In the Shadows of the Net: Breaking Free of Compulsive Online Sexual Behavior"): Blue Shorts (followed closely by the rainbow suspenders from Pinetree)
Bluest at the party, plus awesomest new toy (some sort of tiny, ultra-bright blue light on a carimexican): Blueberry
Best Trivial Pursuit card-reading voice (okay, that was Sunday, but the effects held over): Scotty E
Best manipulation of the thimble game to get her seat next to me back, plus major cool points for knowing the name of Splinter before he turned into a rat: Neverbird
Longest-desired present (newest Astro City comic collection): Wiggle
Nicest surprise to have there: Toasteroven
Traveled the farthest (from Tennessee): Russell
Most fantastically awesome roommate (provided all the pizzas and sodas and actually came): BAWB
Nicest on-line birthday wishes: Allison, my dad's ex, then El Veneno.
Weirdest on-line birthday wishes: Party Smurf, who is secretly just another incarnation of Buh.
Cutest answering machine message: The Maggot, as prompted by Mustard, singing "Happy Birthday." Close second to Topsie and Boston, who called from the line of Space Mountain, and left a sort of conjoined message. A distant third goes out to Gravy, who said that he'd sent a package this morning.
Most adorable gift (a wrapped cookie with a candle Scotch taped to the top): My home teacher.
Biggest apology to: Purple Brad, who tried to take me out to lunch but couldn't get me alone for long enough. Second place to whomever I've forgotten. I'm sure there must be somebody.
I also heard from Ouija, Nanny, my Dad, and Nanny's wife. Dad's in rehab. Fat Aunt Carol reports that he lost his job, yet again. No surprise given the state he seems to have been in according to his recent blog entries. He reports that he's getting disability now. I don't know how I feel about that on a moral level, but I'm sure glad I he's not going to be homeless. I was worried about that.
Man, I hope all you people know how much I love you, and how much you're the reason I love life. I need you in my life more, with all of your idiosyncracies. And Hero, you know I love you, man. The party was indeed better because of your presence.
Also, most awkward moment: when everyone demanded a story. I shared the one about Jennifer Ortiz, and Roy, and the horrible trick my brother Ouija played on me, and the horrible thing Buh said. I've been meaning to tell that story on here since it happened in August. Some day soon, I'll finish talking about the summer, promise. At any rate, I'm once again too tired to spellcheck. Goodnight.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
So one night, The Neverbird was droppng me off after burritos, and I said, "Oh, shoot! I forgot I was supposed to do my home teaching tonight!"
"That's not good," said the Neverbird.
"Well, actually, I was supposed to do it last night, but my companion went out with his girlfriend." Only after I said it did I realize I'd put the extra emphasis on the word "his."
"Well, turnabout is fair play," she recited. And that's how I know. You gotta love relationships between linguists, huh?
So while we were sitting in the theatre waiting for Harry Potter to start, various groups kept singing Happy Birthday to one of their members. The Neverbird threatened to get everyone singing to ME, since my birthday is on Tuesday (and all are invited to the party at 7, location TBA) butinstead we started talking about the odds of som many people having birthdays during this time, and I pointed out that we are Valentine's Day babies. She laughed at that and said she never really thought to count back to the date of conception. The she told me that she had come early, because her mother had gone into shock, and consequently, labor.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Well... my grandfather was called as an apostle."
I said "No way" before that really even registered. Then I said, "Your grandfather is an apostle!? Which one?"
She replied sheepishly that it was Elder Nelson.
Okay, so flash back to last weekend when we went to play games at her house. She was showing me the pictures of her family on the wall, and there was a big picture of Elder Nelson in the middle of it. Like, the exact same picture they always use in the church magazines and stuff. So I couldn't figure out why they'd just randomly have an apostle up there, and so I asked who it was.
"That's my grandfather," she responded.
"Oh. Okay." So her grandfather just looks like Elder Nelson. I almost said "He looks like Elder Nelson," but I wasn't sure if that was the right apostle, and I didn't want to look dumb. Funny, because I did anyway, I'm sure. I've just never met anyone before who's related to an apostle, so it didn't seem possible in my mind. That, and I alwas think of all of the apostles as being SUPER DUPER old and having, like great- great- great-grandchildren around. I guess I get them mixed up with the pioneers in my head. Oh, well.
Anyway, turns out the Neverbird and her grandfather are pretty tight. I'm going up to his summer home tonight to play games with all the cousins on that side.
And things are going really, remakable well with the two of us. I'm really exited to see what happens next. This girl is amazing. She is funny, sensitive to the spirit, aware of others, lively, and beautiful. She won an Olympic medal in thumb wrestling in the sixth grade. She studies Enflish and employs impeccable grammar.
Most attractive of all is the way she is with her younger siblings. Her mother passed away when she was ten, and as the second child and only girl in a family of five children, she ended up having to take charge of a lot of things in the home. She's now in college, but her relationship with her brothers impresses me. She goes and sees their plays, and she knows when their soccer games are and how they're doing in school. Her brothers are really cool kids, and seem so very well adjusted, which is impressive, considering they didn't have a mom around when they were growing up.
Anyway, enough of my gushing for today. I just felt the need to report on this, finally, since it's the best thing that's happening to me lately. Next time I'll probably tell you about my new job, since that's the second-best thing that's happening to me these days. Sayonara.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
I HATE capers. They grow near the ocean and they are disgusting. I had a macaroni salad one time, and it secretly had these little nasties in it. I made a big scene spitting it out. I just can't handle them. I mean, I hate a lot of foods, but this is the one I hate the most. So I hope you believe me that they are terrible terrible terribles.
I HATE Scrappy Doo. I have this secret suspicion that his middle name is the same as his last name. I know I'm bagging on a fellow Hannah-Barberian here, but this freakish little mutant version of Scooby needs to get dipped like in Roger Rabbit. He used to run around and yell "Puppy Power!" or "Put 'em up, put 'em up!" I'll tell you what you can put 'em up, Crappy Doo.
I HATE Squamous cell carcinoma. Okay, to be honest, I don't really know what it is, but I found this picture of it, and that's enough for me to say something.
I HATE Sporty Spice. Spice girls in general are a strange and foreign species. But at least they are funny, and hot. But then there is Sporty Spice. The difference between sporty and the rest of the Sisters Spice is that she is not hot. She is quite nasty, in fact. And I'm completely willing to overlook the fact that she's the one who can actually sing.
I HATE progeria. Progeria is a congenital disease that makes kids age at about ten time their natural rate. The kids usually die very young, after having become scary dried up husks reminiscent of the aliens in the awful McDonald's-funded 80s movie, Mac and Me. The worst thing is that these kids become demented before they go. Their skeletons never properly harden, so they spend most of their lives in bed. I also hate that that one kid's penis is showing.
I HATE Trekkies. Look at them. We'll start with the one on the left, whom I consider to be the most tragic case in this photo, solely because he looks like he could actually have a chance at a life. But no, there he is, dressed like the other freaks and sporting a tiny plastic toy gun. Or phaser if you will. The next three make me wonder whether some sort of gravity ray is on them. Or maybe they forgot to drink their V8 today. Most likely, though, is that the Klingon guy smells very, very, egregiously bad. To the woman: Intergalactic Ordinance #570034-87 clearly states: "If you are older than my mom, you don't go out in public in a short dress and whoreboots. Klingon guy, I hope you get your mother's gold blouse back in her closet before she notices it's missing. And I hope you go back into yours. The world doesn't need you.
I still HATE Trekkies. You do not let your children near a giant horrible fat alien like that. I don't care if it is his mother.
I HATE gay Trekkie couples with adopted mysteriously Asian Trekkie babies and 1980s haircuts. Why does this exist!?
I HATE naked mole rats. I hate that they are naked. I hate their nasty twelve nipples, primarily because they are nasty in and of themselves, but secondarily because their sheer number suggests the size of the litter. I hate the wrinkles. Anything that wrinkled should never be naked. I hate the teeth, the gums, and the lower lip, which I believe actually got chewed through. I hate that if these things stop breaking their teeth down on the rocks through which they dig, their nasty lower teeth just keep growing until they run right through the brain. I hate that some guy seems to be touching the naked mole rat with his bare hands. I would use gloves or a bullet or plastic explosives or something.
I HATE the movie Master of Disguise. When you watch this movie, you can tell that they were like, "Hey, let's not write a script for this movie. Let's just dress up Dana Carvey in different ridiculous outfits and see how funny he bes." And so then Dana Carvey puts on some outfit, and instead of being funny, he's all, "Hey look at me, walkin' around and wearin' a hilarious wig and being so flippety funny." And then they put Brent Spiner, (Star Trek's Data) in the role of the villain, and made his only joke the fact that he farts every time he lets out an evil laugh. And then he does it lots of and lots of times. This is hands down the worst movie I have ever experienced. It's doubly sad that it was in theatres at the same time as his old Wayne's World buddy's Austin Powers III, with the notable distinction that the latter was actually funny and successful. I worked in a movie theatre for a year, and this is the film for which I had the most people ask for their money back. Well, maybe it was tied with Jackass: The Movie. But the point is, they both sucked.
I Hate goats' eyes. Particularly this one, because of the white crud and the opaque, viscous fluids oozing from it, but really all goats' eyes in general. They have rectangular pupils, and you have to see them up close because they try to follow you around and eat your clothing. You can't really see the pupils here, so I'm gonna show you one more before I end this.
See? Even without the sludge coming out, I HATE goats' eyes. Now go away. I probably hate you, too.
"KOLKATA, India - A woman receiving treatment for diabetes at a state-run hospital in eastern India lost one of her eyes after ants nibbled away at it, officials said on Tuesday.
"The patient recovering from a post-surgery infection shrieked for help as the ants attacked her on Sunday night, but nurses told her it was normal to feel pain from the infection.
"On Monday, the patient’s family saw a gaping hole with swarming ants in it when they lifted the bandage on her left eye."
Mom and Mack have decided to buy a fire truck. Fluorescent green. "We put Santa up there and drive around in the Thanksgiving Parade!" I am afraid I'm doomed to be like this my whole life. I guess it shouldn't shock me any more. Not since my youngest brother decided to get rid of his bed and start sleeping in a dentist's chair.
"Did your tooth fall out!?" the freshman girl said to my friend Squirrell, just as the elevator doors were shutting. Squirrell looked down at the folds of his pirate costume to see if there was indeed a tooth on his person. We were halfway done with trick-or-treating, and we'd been given a LOT of the same generic Costco-brand hard candy, so it was possible.
Either she noticed how confused he seemed, or she thought he was gesturing toward his pirate costume with his chin, because she followed it right up with an enthusiatic "Oh! Did you black it out?"
Awkward. Because Moose, the Neverbird, and I (the four of us had all come to the freshman dorms together to hit them up for their extra candy or ewhatever else they might have there) knew what the girl didn't know. What Squirrell told her then, with his best wounded-looking face: "No. I have a gap in my teeth." Like I said, awkward. I loved it.
My roommate told me a joke:
The devil is taking someone on a tour of Hell and showing him the various rooms, as he is wont to do in so many jokes. So the guy keeps asking what's in each room. Here are the devil's responses:
"Here is where we keep the Hindus who ate beef.... This room is for the Mormons who drank coffee and tea.... This one is for the Jews and Moslems who ate pork.... And this one? It's for the Episcopalians who ate their salad with the dinner fork."
Went to the planetarium on a date with the Neverbird. The woman who gave the presentation was the most hideous basement-dwelling nerd you can imagine. You know the girls you see around campus who never take care of themselves, and then they mope to their roommates about how no boys even look at them? The type that all the boys go out of their way to avoid looking at? The kind for whom kindly visiting teachers anonymously leave bottles of conditioner on the doorstep? The kind who show up at the Good Will on the day the new used clothes arrive so they can pick the rack clean of frumpy, over-sized Eeyore sweatshirts? This lady was that type. Only now grown up, teaching at BYU, still unmarried, and with even worse posture than you'd expect. Like those moles on Super Mario World. Anyway, now that I've painted the picture, I can splain what happened.
So the lights were out, and she started talking about how difficult it is to prove the existence of extrasolar planets when we aren't even sure how many planets there are orbiting our sun. I shuddered, then whispered to the Neverbird that there are few things more terrifying than hearing that woman utter the words, "our sun." We got into all kinds of trouble that night for not being able to stop laughing. Actually, that happens pretty much everywhere we go. I contemplated dressing up as slim goodbody when we went to an organ concert in SLC. "OH!" I would gasp. "I think there has been a terrible misunderstanding."
Ah, life. I'm excited for Harry Potter. We're dressing up for that one. The Neverbird has robes and wands and everything.
Next Sunday I am speaking at a ward fireside. You all should come, if you can. I'll be telling a pretty interesting story. It'll be one I've never told on my blog. Anyway, that's all for now. It seems the more fodder I have for blogging, the less time I have in which to do it. Such a conundrum.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
I got a new job today. I'll be making ten dollars per hour, which is a lot better than the library, and my hours are better hours, too. The job might suck, but at least I can earn some cash, huh? And maybe I'll really like it.
I saw The exorcism of Emily Rose tonight. In it, three of the characters wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, sure they can smell smoke, but completely unable to locate the source of the fire. In each case, this is the first step the demons take in haunting the person, and in Emily Rose's case, it's leads eventually to her possesion by six demons, and then her violent death. My first girlfriend back in 8th grade was named "Emily Rose." I have a cousin named that, as well. Odd.
Anyway, nobody be surprised if I end up with scary black eyes, losing teeth as I try to chew through the wall. Or if Asmond has simply taken up smoking.
Monday, November 07, 2005
QDear 100 Hour Board,
What is the coolest thing I could do for a guy with out spending very much money. Baking cookies and the usual, what every girl does ideas don't count. I am looking for the best thing to do for cheap that would make the guy go, "wow, that was nice." or better yet, "She must really care, maybe I can take a hint."
- Tinker Bell
You could wash his car, or do something useful. You could write him a kind note. You could cook him some spaghetti. You could start to do some of the menial every-day tasks of life for him, like buying groceries or opening the mail. You could start a journal of what he was wearing that day, and you can also write down everything he said to you or near you, and then after a few weeks, you can leave the journal somewhere where he can stumble across it, like his underwear drawer. Make sure you make it cute with puff paint and glitter. I know that a lot of guys have a hard time getting to bed on time, so another idea would be to sit outside his bedroom window at night, and watch him until he goes to bed. If he starts staying up past the time that is good for him, you can call him from your cell phone. Everyone could use a friendly reminder from time to time. Now, don't say anything at that point, because that might be too obvious that you like him. But if you remain completely silent, he might just think it was a wrong number and ignore it and stay up late. You're better off making some sort of noise, like heavy breathing, grunting, or slurping. Soon he'll come to realize that that's just an admirer's friendly little way of reminding him that it's bed time. Another cool thing would be to get samples of his hair, and have genetic tests run on them to see if there are any congenital birth defects he should be aware of. What guy wouldn't be appreciative of that much effort? If there are extra hairs, or if the tests turn out to be too expensive, you can tape them into the journal before you slip it in with his tighty-whities. The coolest thing of all would be to clandestinely take a picture of him and photoshop it into an engagement picture of yourself. I recommend the kind where you are in a tree and you're dressed in matching denim vests--very classy. Then send out the invitations to everybody (don't forget his friends and family--you might need to "borrow" his address book for that one while you're in his room delivering the journal). You should also buy yourself a ring. Then a real marriage proposal to you would seem the natural thing to do! Just imagine how a guy would feel when he found out he didn't have to buy you a ring or worry about the invitations. He'll be pleased as punch. If you send him all those signs, and he still doesn't get it, hurt him. Just a little bit. Maybe then he'll come around. Well, I am out of my mind today.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Does anyone else find it weird that someone would keep pictures of ex girlfriends in their wallet?(And we're not talking the last person they dated. We're talking 7 years ago in high school.)
ADear Miss Bojangles,
I don't think it's weird. Sounds like a pretty good way for him to show other guys what a stud he is. You know, like how hunters put those heads on the wall.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Every year my friends and I celebrate Festivus and have a huge party involving feats of strength. My question is, what are some ideas for games involving feats of strength?
- (speedraycr who is also BLoG)
Pick each other up by the hair. Stop traffic with your bare hands. Strangle a bear just until it passes out. Catch pennies that people have dropped off the Empire State buildind with the soft spots on your skulls. Have a tug-of-war with your friend's truck on the freeway (you might need to tie yourself to the end of the rope for this one). Play catch with an anvil. See who can keep various limbs in the garbage disposal longest. Happy Festivus to you!
*This site, and the opinions and statements contained herein, do not necessarily reflect the beliefs or policies of Brigham Young University, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or any of their affiliates, or even the guy who wrote this.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
how do i earn about $70 - $100 with out getting a job..(my life is too busy to keep a job right now)? I need it for christmas and i dont know how to get it. Any ideas? btw, i dont go to byu, so no on-campus ideas please. Thanks!!
- poor did
ADear poor did,
Sell some stuff. Like your neighbors' cat or fake gift certificates to restaurants that you just printed off the computer. Make sure you sell these things in neighborhoods that are not your own.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Oh, where to begin...I'm an attractive, funny, smart, kind, stylish girl, (I say that only to rule those issues out as causes for my date-less-ness) and in my second year at BYU. I have yet to be asked on a single date. I'm at a loss. This might sound weird, but I feel I fit the profile of girls who get a lot of dates here. I really make an effort to look nice when I got to school and try to be friendly, but must confess I'm a bit shy. Still, shyness aside, I'm struggling to find a legitimate cause for my singlehood. Even when I get the guts to talk to a guy, it ends when the conversation ends (not one has ever asked for my number.) I guess my question is two tiered. The first being; are there particular things that girls do (perhaps unknowingly) that repel guys? And the other part of my question is; what can I do to improve my situation? What do guys here look for, because I clearly don't have it. I don't even have guy FRIENDS...I don't feel I'm asking too much here, but somehow I find myself lonely and bored during much of my week and could really use some help. I just can't figure this out. Any suggestions or advice or...date offers...would be very much appreciated. I feel pathetic asking these questions, but clearly, I'm desparate. Thanks!
- Alice in (Dating) Wonderland (supposedly...)
ADear Alice (or maybe you're Mabel today...),
Hmmm. Here are some ideas. You could bake cookies for every guy in your ward, and then wait by the phone for the date invites to start flooding in (you may have to get call waiting!). Make little fliers about how cool you are and distribute them around campus. That's how we get readers for the Hundred Hour Board, so I bet it'll get you some dates. Tell boys that you go on dates all the time, so they know you're playing the game. Or remind them constantly that the prophet says they should date more. Go to a movie by yourself, and look around for a guy who's by himself or on the edge of his group of male friends. Sit next to him, and then sit close to him, and then ask him to get you some popcorn (all the while touching his elbow). After the movie, ask him nonchalantly where he's taking you for dinner. This actually will work with some guys. Put yourself on ldssingles.com. Use Anne hathoway's picture instead of your own, just in case. Keep your ears open for when other people are going on blind dates. Then show up just a few minutes before the girl and pretend to be her all evening. Good luck!
QDear 100 Hour Board,
So I have a roommate, and she is really nice. We have alternating schedules, I work and study late, she does early, which works fine, except for one little detail. She is healthy and doesn't have a cold as far as she can tell, but when she wakes up early in the morning (we are talking 5-6am) she has coughing fits. This is a problem as I go to bed circa 1am (due to work and such) and it wakes me up. Any suggestions?
You can start slipping her sleeping pills before she turns in. Then before you go to bed, turn off her alarm clock. That way she won't be waking up before you. You could probably do that for a few weeks befoe she becomes immune to the medicine. At that point, just start tying her mouth with a gag before you go to sleep.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
NOOOOOO! I just checked the class schedule, figuring out what classes I'm going to take... AND I DISCOVERED THAT THEY AREN'T TEACHING STAINED GLASS OR BASKETWEAVING THIS WINTER!!! WHY? WHY? It's my last term (I graduate in April), and I wanted to take something fun and unusual... "Yeah--I learned basketweaving at BYU..."
- Crushed... :((
Our society has no need for basket-weavers. Our baskets come ready-made. Slave children in Malaysia produce them for us. We don't want to put them out of work. Their families have to eat.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
I need a great, inexpensive, fun, not creepy or dorky, date idea to do on Saturday during the day. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.
- Angela from London
Hmmm. Good date ideas, huh?
You could invite your date to watch a scary movie in a graveyard using a generator. Then have someone hiding in a grave that you've dug earlier, and they can jump out and scare your date, and maybe dump mud or something that feels like brains on him.* You could play chess with him and tell him he doesn't get dinner until he beats you. Then, to make the fun of the evening last longer, take a full minute or even two between moves. You could do a Star Trek movie marathon. Make sure to show up in your full Star Trek formal evening regalia. How about Arts & Crafts Night, and you could use glue guns and those special zig-zag scissors and make matching photo albums? You could go really late at night and sneak around to various dumpsters behind restaurants and see what food is still edible in there.** Usually they have the food in separate bags from the other trash. Talk about an inexpensive date, huh? And the best thing is, if your date ends up fighting a hobo over some grimy KFC, you get to watch a free bumfight! You could plan a dinner at your parents' house, and then have them push the idea of marriage and talk about how lucky any man will be to be part of their family.** You could tell him you're taking him somewhere that's a surprise, and then just drive and drive and drive until he finally makes you turn around. I bet you could make it well into Wyoming before he puts his foot down. Well, I hope one of these ideas works for you. Remember, a date is only successful if you have more fun than the person you're with.
* Idea given at the Orem Institute of Religion in a Marriage Prep class
** Dates I've actually been on
QDear 100 Hour Board,
My roommates and I are in a war and we have a few scathingly brilliant ideas up our sleaves, but we were wondering if you could give us your best legal prank ideas that won't get us in trouble, but will be great retaliation. Oh, if this will help, we are in Heritage. I know there are some things that you can do here that are strickly Heritage ideas. I commend you now for your great efforts in helping us win.- Kesstacular
It's only illegal if you get caught. That said, I have some suggestions. You could put their names in bleach somewhere on the lawn around Heritage. That way THEY get in trouble. You could ask them out with those elaborate date-asking things that Utahns are fond of (you know the kind with the Jell-o, duct tape, and stuffed kiwi birds?), but make them from imaginary people. Or ask out really horrible unattractive people from the people you're trying to get.* Kidnap any pets they might have and hold them ransom, and then feed the pets tons of food that will make them vomit a LOT right before you make the trade back.** Key their cars. Leave flaming bags of fecal matter or dead squirrels on their doorsteps. Call them every few minutes all during the night. Order tons of anchovy pizzas to be delivered to their house.** Call them pretending to be the Honor Code Office, and vaguely tell them they've been caught breaking the code, and unless they confess, you'll be telling their parents. Put rubber cement on their toothbrushes so that they tear their gums open when they try to brush their teeth.** Break into their apartment at night with ski masks and take their major electronics equipment back to your own place.* Plant a listing of made-up Sexaholics Anonymous meeting times somewhere in their apartment where all the roommates can find it and assume that it's one of the others'.* Tell them you need to use their restroom, then clog the toilet with a rubber duck, lock the door, and escape out the window. With any luck they'll have to call maintenece twice on that one. Photoshop their pictures into Newsnet photos of white supremecist meetings, and make flyers to distribute in the foyer before church. Bake some Viagra into some brownies, or replace their shampoo with Nair. Sew up the sleeves on all their shirts.** Take the guts out of their smoke alarms, and replace them with rotten fish.* They'll smell it, but they won't ever think to look there! Shave off their eyebrows while they sleep, and then gently squeeze toothpaste onto their eyelids so they can't open them when they wake up.* Just remember, if you can get them to cry, you have won. And also that I'm an insane evil wizard.
* Pranks I've done
** Pranks I've had done to me
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Where is the cheapest place to buy a bonsai tree? I really want one; but, I can't afford one. I have searched diligently on eBay; but, once you account for the shipping price they are pretty expensive there too.
They are available for pretty cheap on this website. Wait. What was the question again?
(I actually got hate mail on that last one, heh heh)
Until next time, all you loathsome blog-reading scum.
I AM GARGAMEL AND I AM TAKING OVER THE VILLAGE! I HAVE LOATHED THE SMURFS AND THEIR SMURFY LITTLE SONG: "tra la lala la la tra lala la la" FOR YEARS AND I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET INTO THE SMURF VILLAGE. OF COURSE I AM SURE YOU ARE ALL AWARE THAT NO ONE CAN ENTER INTO THE VILLAGE ONE HAS TO BE INVITED.
YEARS AGO I INVENTED A GIRL SMURF (aka Smurfette) TO GO INTO THE VILLAGE TO STIR UP SOME TRUBBLE, BUT UNFORTUNATLY, PAPA SMURF’S MAGIC MADE HER ALL CUTE AND CHARMING. BLAGH!
THEN ONE DAY MY LUCK CHANGED, I NOTICE JOKEY SMURF WAS PLAY SOMEWHERE HE SHOULDN’T BELONG- hehe. I STUMBLED ACROSS WIGGLES BLOG AND NOTICED JOKEY LEFT AND INVETATION FOR ME TO ENTER; DELIGHTED AT SUCH, I TOOK IT.
NOW, THANKS TO JOKEY SMURF THEIR ALL MINE!! AZREAL, MY FELINE COMANPION, WILL FINALLY GET TO FEAST ON THE SMURFS, AND I WILL BE THE MOST POWERFUL VILLAN IN ALL OF THE LAND!!! MAAHAHAHAA!!!
“Gargamel, what are you doing?! How did you get into the Village? Where are all the Smrufs?”
Gargamel enlightens Wiggle with the whole story. Wiggle is shocked and doesn’t know what to say. But in the end she knows that the right thing to do is help the Smurf’s out. She plans and elaborate escape and the Smurfs are able to out smart Gargamel on last time.
When the Smurfs are safe back in their village, Papa Smurf puts a new enchantment upon the village to insure that something like this never happens again. The Smurfs celebrated and had a great feast with Wiggle being the honored guess.
Yeah, it is pretty obvious that the Smurfs felt it only appropriate and necessary that they worship Wiggle for saving their life, and so they made a massive mushroom temple where they pray to Wiggle and thank her for saving their lives everyday.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Is there hope for me?
- a man who needs a date
Sadly, I heard that Hope got engaged in July. You can check out her sisters, though. Faith and Charity. Both still very available.
If I were you, I'd pray for Charity. She's the greatest of the three, anyway. Faith is kinda high maintenence. A relationship with her takes a lot of work, or it just dies. And I guess Hope really is once again single. I theard they called her on a mision, though....
QDear 100 Hour Board,
In the past month and a half, I've had two bugs fly into my eyes. Seriously. The first time this happened was on Heleman Hill on my way to the Tanner Building, and the second time was today between the SWKT and the construction site. I never really got a good look at the bugs when they were whole, and only saw them as black globs after removing them from my eye. I'm wondering:
(1) what type of bugs are these; they seemed like the same kind both times.
(2) has this ever happened to anyone else?
(3) should I be afraid of infection or other optical health problems? There didn't seem to be any problems after the first time, and that was several weeks ago. But the second time was today, and I'm a little worried.
(4) Is there anything that I can do to prevent this in the future? By the time I realize there's a bug flying at my face, if reflexes haven't already done something, it's too late.
- Blinded by the flight
ADear Blinded by the flight,
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Where can I learn how to play the harmonica? Does the director of the Philharmonic Orchestra teach people?
- Happy feet
ADear Happy Feet,
Far away from me!
QDear 100 Hour Board,
this is what the board seems like its doing lately
Q: (i have a question about your opinion on a certain matter)
A: dear reader(my point of view is correct and yours is wrong as well as anyone else who disagrees with me and this is a fact)
this is what your question seems like to me
Q:(Kowtow to me. I am so witty and right that you Board writers will have to really think hard about how to answer this one! If I tell you your'e mean, you have to be nice when you answer)
A:(no, we don't. If someone asks us for our opinions, we're going to give them to him, and guess what? We believe our opinions. Yep, that's right. We're going to stand up for them. In short, you are wrong, and anyone who disagrees with me is too. And there should be two spaces after a colon [or at least one], and your parentheses are superfluous)
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Why did they get rid of the tree of life showers at the MTC?
- Naked Nostalgia
ADear Naked Nostalgia,
There were some elders who were just "different," whether due to choices made by their parents or to nature. I'll bet it was one of those elders who came back and instituted a change. Either that, or one of the stateside-bound elders my companion used to pee on while they were shampooing. I feel sorry for all of those people, as well as the fat kid, Tattoo Guy, Scars, and the Sasquatch. And all of us who had to see those people naked every day for nine weeks.
QDear 100 Hour Board,
Tell me the most interesting thing you can possibly tell me. This better be good and I if I've heard it before I shall...do something bad to small rodents.
- Curious and Dangerous
ADear Curious and Dangerous,
I was about to tell you the most amazing thing I've heard ever, but then I remembered how much I hate small rodents.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Dr. Smurf needs to heal my tight end's foot, so he plays Sunday.
Smurf needs your help!!
A baby dragon has an isatiable appetite for the glowberries Papa Smurf needs for his invisibility formula.
The smurf needs such a mask as the beekeepers have.
smurf needs assistance
If a smurf needs blood, call me, 'cause I bleed blue.
Smurf needs a place to work.
SMURF needs financial
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Campus Deer Problem
Some time ago I was walking home from campus in the middle of the day. Classes were in session. which eliminated foot traffic near the MARB, where I was walking. All of a sudden I heard a loud noise behind me.
There was not even time to look back before a deer bolted past me, about a foot away. This scared the living daylights out of me. I could have been seriously injured. BYU needs to take the problem of deer on campus seriously before someone gets hurt.
Well, here's the letter I just sent in response:
I am a deer. Some time ago I was foraging for sustenance near the MARB while classes were in session. I decided to cross the nearby road. As I was crossing I heard a shocking noise to my left.
There was scarcely time to get all the way across before a whiny freshman turned and yelled at me, about a foot away. This scared the living daylight out of me. I should have seriously injured him. Imagine my chagrine when a copy of the Daily Universe comes fluttering up to me in the wind while I'm eating the leaves off some shrubs the other day, and it opens up to a letter from that very student, complaining about my presence in his university. Well, I decided to write a letter complaining about his university's presence in my wilderness. Honestly, that kid probably clapped when Bambi's mom got killed. We deer have been very tolerant of you humans' presence here in our valley, and all we ask is a little respect in return. BYU seriously needs to take the problem of whiny, nature-hating humans on campus seriously before some deer gets seriously hurt. Seriously.
Also, friends, be sure to check out Buh's new extra hilarious blog.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
There is no "I" in "team." But there is an "I" in "win." Which is more important?
Asmond accidentally said "my TV" instead of " my teacher" yesterday. Paging Dr. Freud.
My dad has a blog now. He doesn't want me to show it to anyone. I have to say it's a lot like seeing your dad naked. Not very pleasant. I don't need to know all that stuff about him to know that I can love him unconditionally. But it seems I need to know it so that HE can know I do. So that's fine. It's pretty obvious that the love I have for him is unconditional, since he long ago broke any conditions I might have established.
Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare) is the most important species in the genus Foeniculum (treated as the sole species by many botanists), and is native to southern Europe (especially by the Mediterranean) and southwestern Asia. It is a highly aromatic perennial herb, erect, glaucous green, and grows to 2 m tall.
I am on a new diet. It's called the poverty diet. I need to get paid so bad right now. Hopefully I'll get my first paycheck from the library soon. I am running pretty low on energy. On the plus side, I got a loaf of the most aromatic and delectable Italian bread from Walmart for 97 cents.
I had my BC interview this afternoon. I was asked only one question: "How would you help keep your counselors focused on the purpose of EFY?" Luckily, I knew that the purpose of EFY is to bring the youth to Christ, so I talked about that. I think it went well.
My roommates and I stayed up until almost five of the clock this morning, discussing religion and relationships. Last week we did the same thing, only the topic of conversation was war. I love living with such articulate and opinionated people. We have the best talks.
This Jason Mraz song, "You and I Both," well, I love it. Check these lyrics:
"See I'm all about them words
Over numbers, unencumbered numbered words
Hundreds of pages, pages, pages forwards
More words then I had ever heard and I feel so alive"
Most of this guys music mentions words and wordplay. I want to meet him.
Once upon a time, N, Jolly John, and I think it was my brother Nanny and I decided we wanted to go swimming in the river, since it was a very hot day. So we went down the road to where there was a bridge we crossed all the time to get to my house. And we went through the wooded area a little bit, and tried to get to the river, but it just wasn't the best place because the blackberry brambles came right up to the water. So we decided to go right under the bridge itself. We went back up to the road and turned woodward as soon as the bridge ended. As the four of us started down the steep sides of the riverbank, with me in the lead, I ran into an almost invisble piece of fishing wire that sent a bunch of cans a-jangling. We realized it was a kind of rudimentary alarm system. As we doubled back and wound our way through the bushes toward the bridge, a spectacular mess met our eyes. Somebody had made a collection of sorts.
It was a veritable homeless mansion, really. Cardboard boxes and milk jugs and soda cans and baby-doll heads and bits of shiny silver plastic. All sorts of wonders, really. It was a fortress. There were curtains made of an old tarp on a pole. There were alarm systems set up on each side. There was a half-sunken row boat, and some red plastic ball floating out in the river with an anchor. A babydoll was nailed brutally to a tree. Another tree had a piece of yellow rope pulling it down toward the water. Closer inspection showed that the other end was tied to a submerged car engine. All over the concrete supports of the bridge in various shades of spray paint was the repeated message: "Twitch Lives!"
So we swam. But only very nervously, because we were afraid about a) all the junk that might be under the water where we couldn't see it, and b) Twitch's imminent return. We went instead to that little cafe I told you about last time, and we ate a delicious lunch.
From then on, every time we drove over the bridge, no matter how cold it was outside, we had to roll down the window and yell, at the top of our lungs, "Twitch Lives." Okay, eventually we forgot to keep doing that.
Later, with Tox, I think, I saw a homeless man digging through the recyclable trash can at High-Tech Burrito. Which was right next to that old scary bridge. And he was talking to himself. And twitching. Twitch lives!
The Hague (with capital T; Dutch: Den Haag, or officially Gravenhage) is the administrative capitalof the Netherlands, located in the west of the country, in the province South Holland of which it is also the capital.
I am changing my glossary to my "bestiary," at the suggestion of Asmond, who also mistakenly called it a "bestiality" yesterday.
In the words of Horatio the Great: "That is all."
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Once upon a time there was a smurf. And he lived in a trailer home all by himself. Okay, that's going to get annoying if he keeps telling the story in third person, so he's going to stop right here.
Anyway, I lived by myself in this trailer on my mom's friend's property in the beautiful Napa Valley. The property had vineyards, a softball field, a swimming pool, a hot tub, a bonfire pit, a barbecue, etc. Nearby was a little mom-and-pop store with a delicatessen that had outdoor tables under the oak trees. I used to stroll down there and eat a smoked turkey sandwich with sharp cheddar cheese, plus a deviled egg or two, some kettle-cooked dill potato chips, and a berry smoothie. It was heaven for me. Those of you who know me might expect that I'd have some difficulty living by my lonesome. But in fact, these were some of the most tranquil and sublime days of my life. There were only two major problems with the place.
A pack of wild coyotes inhabited the same property as I did. I don't know how many of you have ever lived alone, but for those who haven't, I can tell you that it can be frightening at night. Especially when you're sitting alone on your couch, reading a book, and you start to hear the manic howls of the coyote pack coming closer from the woods. And then they are suddenly running all around your house, rifling your trash can, and running up onto your porch, with their little claws click-clacking on the wood. They had this magical ability to make the doors and walls of my trailer seem paper-thin, so that I always felt one of them would come busting right through the wall at any moment, just like G'mork came through that painting in the Neverending Story. Coyotes always sound like they're in pain. I hate them.
The coyotes were the lesser of my two concerns, however. About a month after I moved in, I convinced Tox to move in with me. That wasn't the main concern, either. No, the main concern was that our landlady's son, Levi, moved back home and had taken up residence in the pool house.
Levi had been our friend when we were small. He and his mother and sister had joined the church as a result of the interactions between Levi and all of us Mormon kids through Scub Scouts. While we were in middle and high school, Levi started experimenting with illegal drugs. He became weirder and weirder as time went on, piercing his own ears in the school bathroom, shaving his head except for one patch that he would grow out into a single nasty unicorn spike. It looked very intimadating, especially because Levi was always the largest of all of us. The kid was a big moosie. His mother, in a last-ditch attempt to help him, sent him to a drug-rehab camp for teens in Samoa.
While Levi was there, someone sneaked in some acid. But it was bad acid, and the story goes that three of the five kids who dropped it died, one is still in a coma, and the other is Levi. Levi is now a drug-induced schizophrenic. He can't hold a job. He wanders from town to town, throws rocks at police cars, and inflicts his theories of government conspiracy on strangers he meets in the video store.
Tox and I were the recipients of several unexpected visits from Levi while we were living on his mother's property. He would walk right in in his ragged sarong and weird Asian scarecrow hat, and start boiling his frozen spinach on our stove, or he would just sit on our couch and fart loudly and ask us bizarre questions. Any questions we asked him would go unanswered for over a minute, and then a light would go on and you would see that the question had finally sunk in, and he would give some convoluted answer. Tox found the whole thing sad, though mildly amusing. Me? I was scared to death of him.
When Tox got into a car accident and was staying at his parents' for a few days, leaving me once again alone in the house, I was actually glad to hear the coyotes' insane yelps and howls right outside the windows. If the coyotes were out, it meant Levi wasn't. I fell into feverish sleep those nights, dreaming of Levi being eaten by the pack of coyotes, or on one night, by a pack of wild Levis, who then turned their sights on my little trailer.
One evening, Joshua Adam Hawks and a gentile kid we'll call Loony Leo were over at our place. We got a phone call from the girls, who lived about 40 minutes away. They said they were on their way over, and they wanted a surprise when they got there. The other guys immediately started brainstorming about what great thing they could have for the girls once they arrived. But I am not one to be so easily manipulated. "You guys!" I exclaimed. "They never said it had to be a good surprise!"
So we spent the next little while trying to find a way to prop a bucket of water on the door so it would fall on the girls when they got there. It soon became apparent that the physics required to get that to work only exist if you're a character on "Dennis the Manace" or some such show. Soon the other guys had given up and settled into playing "Better Man" on their guitars. I pointed out that we still needed a surprise for the girls. And then I had an idea. A terrible, terrible idea. One of the worst I've ever had, probably, and that's saying something.
"I know what we can do, you guys! How surprised would the girls be if they got here and we weren't in the house. But Levi was!" Everybody kinda laughed, but after a moment's contemplation, it was decided that that would indeed be the best surprise we could come up with on such short notice. But then it was also decided that I should be the one to go get him, since it was my idea.
I protested, but only vaguely (I couldn't have everyone knowing that I was afraid, after all), and in the end, I started down the dark, tree-flanked path toward the pool house to see if I could find Levi.
There was a horrible sound coming from levi's house. It was what Levi referred to as his "jungle beats." He had an old record player in there, and it was hooked up to some huge speakers, and he would sit in there for hours and try to communicate with aliens or supernatural forces through the beats he would scratch. It sounded like funhouse music, only without the fun or the music, and with a little bit of plain, unadulterated evil thrown in. I lost my nerve. I didn't even make it all the way to the house. I stopped there on the little wooded path, and I turned and ran like a rabbit in the sights of the farmers gun, all the way back to the trailer.
I was a bit more forthcoming about my objections this time. "I am NOT going back there," I whined. "It is WAY too scary."
Loony Leo said, "Here, I'll go with you. I knew Levi back in 4H. I haven't seen him in forever. Let's go." So I somehow found myself headed back down the path again, headed toward the haunted pool house. The jungle beats were still filling the air so much that we could hardly hear each other, even when we were shouting. We went around to the front door. Emboldened by the presence of another human being, I knocked on the door. It creaked open slowly on its own.
"Levi!?" I yelled.
Nothing. Just those jungle beats, as terrifying as absolute silence, because either way ot rendered us completely deaf to any actual noise. The doorway was a black triangle. We could discern no shape, no depth. Just the blackness, and that noise, like a horror-movie soundtrack, emanating from somewhere in it. In my frightened state, I turned to ask Loony Leo what he thought we should do, but he had bolted. I ran and caught up to him on the path back to my house.
We ran inside. Loony Leo told the other two guys that he thought they should come with us, that it was way too scary. Tox let his true colors show a bit then. "No way," he stammered. "I'm kinda scared too. Let's just do something else for the girls." In the awkward silence that followed, we could hear the jungle beats floating up eerily through the woods. In the end, we just sent Tox to the store to get some ice cream, and we'd call that our surprise.
Well, the girls got there before Tox even got back. And when he did get back, it was with vanilla ice cream, with no toppings, so no one ate it anyway. I still really don't know what you were thinking on that one, Tox. In order to alleviate the embarassment of having such a lame surprise to offer, we engaged the girls in the story of our failed attempts to procure Levi, and how afraid everyone had been.
The girls, up for a little adventure, decided they wanted to go meet Levi, since they hadn't grown up with him, and had only heard the stories we'd told.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," I objected.
My objection went unnoticed, though, because suddenly the other guys were all gung-ho and macho about the idea of taking everyone down to Levi's. And the girls thought it sounded scintillating, and so the next thing I knew I was trudging along the forest path once again, collectedly remonstrating them for what I knew to be a bad idea. Nobody listened.
We got to Levi's house. The music had stopped, and the place was silent, but rather than mollifying the miasma of fear that surrounded the place, it only made the place seem dead, and, were it possible, even more frightening. There was a flickering t.v. light coming from the sliding glass door on the far side of the house. We went to the door. It had a curtain hanging in it that hung down to about knee-level. Tox hunkered down and looked inside under the curtain. "It's Levi," he announced. "C'mon, let's go in."
He kncked perfunctorily, and slid the door open. Instead of opening the curtain, we all just sort of sidled under it. Once everbody was inside, and my eyes had adjusted, I realized that there was something very, very wrong.
"What are you guys doing here? Who are these girls?" asked Levi, in an oddly strained voice. His face was three points of white: two glazed eyes reflecting the television, and a mouth stretched into a skeletal, cheshire grin. I averted my eyes, looking instead at the television set, which had been making some strange noises. I could feel Tox looking at the set already, and soon realized why he had been so quiet.
On the screen was a zombie. He had rotting flesh and tattered clothing. He had a naked blonde virgin on what was either a sacrificial altar or a mad scientist's table, and he was raping her. She was screaming in pleasure and pain, alternately. It was one of the most horrific things I've ever seen. Tox tried to stand in front of the TV screen to block the view for the girls, but in that dismal lighting, there were few other places to which one could avert one's eyes. Mine flashed back to Levi's demented face, and then to the third and only other spot of light in the room. it took me half a second to realize that I was looking at Levi's underwear, and that Levi's oversized pants were in a buch at his ankles. For several seconds my my eyes darted back and forth between the demonic face, the exposed underwear, and the zombie rape porn, while I flinched every time they lighted on something and quickly jerked them to the next atrocity.
I finally gathered my wits, and instructed everyone to go back outside. They obeyed dumbly, ducking back under the black felt curtain, and out into the relative safety of the dark, coyote-infested woods beyond. Everybody ran back up the path. One of the girls tripped on a step or a log or something, and fell. "Are you okay?" I breathed.
"NO!" she sobbed. "I don't know if I'll ever be okay again." We helped her back up and got her to the house, where everyone just sat around and looked shell-shocked, and the one girl just kept crying and crying. Joshua Adam Hawks sat with her and tried to comfort her. The girls' adventure seeking mood, as well as the guys' bravado, had left them like air from an untied balloon, and they sat like little wilted rubber messes around the couches in the living room. Then somebody noticed that Loony Leo was missing. He hadn't come back with us, and somehow, against all reason, I found myself once again walking down that dark and forlorn path to Levi's.
Loony Leo somehow hadn't noticed what it was that Levi was watching, nor the fact that Levi was in his skivvies, and he was just standing there, dwarfed by Levi's hulking frame, and trying to reminisce about the rabbits and chickens they used to raise together in a time when Levi's brain and self had still been in Levi's body. I took Loony Leo firmly by the arm, explained that we needed him in the house, and made him bid a hasty farewell. I looked askance at Levi as we exited the room for the last time, and I saw him looking complacently, creepily bemused, head cocked like some sort of cockatrice.
Levi disappeared soon after that, and I've never seen him since. But the indelible images of that night still haunt my dreams from time to time. Just me, a little boy lost in the woods, being pursued by coyotes and zombies and Levis. I never even had to say "I told you so." I don't think any of us is the same after that night. Nor will we ever be.