Filler

I feel like saying something. You don't have to read it.

My brother is coming to town this weekend. He is bringing all the duct-tape purses he's made, and will be selling them for $10 a pop. I assure you they are vey nice. He told me that the DI is up to 64% of the reason he's making the trip. I need to get as many of my freshmen friends to come hang out on Saturday as I can.

I'm getting pretty hungry. I wish someone were here to make some Hamburger Helper for me right now.

I've been hanging out with my friends from work lately. It's refreshing to realize that the Board isn't the only group of amazing people out there.

I'm not sure I entirely like Ocean's 12. I missed the idea of each of them contributing something the others couldn't. I really would have liked to see Bernie Mac's character do more.

My friend Wicket up and moved to New Mexico without telling anybody. I sure miss that guy. Meanwhile, I haven't heard from my friend Brad since my birthday. I realize I could always re-establish contact, but I'm worried about what I might learn. Especially since I got what might be a suicide note from him shortly before he disappeared. Something is telling me that I just don't want to know. I still haven't mailed his Christmas present, either, so maybe it's just guilt.

Gravy told me the other day that he wants to make sure he lives somewhere in the western United States when he gets older so that he'll still be close to me, so we can go hang out and stuff. That's really awesome. I forget sometimes how much the Board hates him. He really isn't crazy; he's just rash and thoughtless. Just sickeningly yellow with a bright red stripe. Anyway, I guess I do the same sorts of things, which might explain why we're friends.

Valentine's day was a non-issue for me.

My co-worker, Erin, has agreed to take my shift at work on Saturday so I can hang out with my brother. It's really hard for me to imagine why she would do that. She has two kids, and is just very great. Thank you, Erin. Your benevolence astounds me.

My friend Rhett makes me laugh. He's so hilarious. You should meet him.

My brother is getting married in the chapel. Sad. I guess his branch president doesn't feel like his fiancee is ready, since she's only recently come back to the church. I'm nervous for them, especially with the 100% divorce rate among my parents and their immediate families. As in my parents, their siblings, and their parents have all been divorced at least once. Hopefully that won't be passed on to their kids.

Recent discussions about whether I'm evil have had me thinking. But I've since come to just laugh about that. There's no way I could be evil, since I'm so freaking happy all the time. Wickedness never was happiness, right? Now if we want to talk about whether I'm irresponsible or maybe even crazy, you might be able to build a case.

Dinner on Sunday was delightful. The food was excellent and the conversation was worthy of it. I have borrowed "The Princess and The Goblin" from my friend Jenny. So far it's great.

Wiggle just told me I look so adorable.

I love my rock collection. Can I just say that? I think it's really great. Sometimes I take it out and look at it.

I am on the verge of writing a poem called "Eve, Inconsiderate," about how I feel about women. That will answer some of your questions. Did you notice the play on words?

I've heard about these Chocolate Lucky Charms. I'm a bit afraid.

While many people have told me I have too many opinions, Asmond is always there to back me up. I really love that. He is such a high-quality person. Go read his blog. It's beautiful. On the other hand, J is still grounded for never hanging out with me.

I was in the Herald last Wednesday. One friend actually read it on his own and then said something to me about it. Now he tells everyone I'm a celebrity. Maybe it's true.

I sent a funny note to Crazy Republican Katie at church on Sunday. I'll be working during the ward Valentine's Day dodge ball single-elimination tournament.

I'm totally craving Chik-fil-A. I need to cash some paychecks.

It snowed last night. I hate that. If you know me, you already know that I hate it.

I am currently looking at the can of mushroom gravy I was left as a tip. Gravy actually called in a pretense of anger, demanding I return it to him and inquiring as to why I took it in the first place. He's such an alien, I swear.

I'll be making a trip to the BYUSA offices soon, but not for any naughty reasons. I just need to figure out where they are. I wonder if it's the same place where Benvolio works. I get so confused about BYU.

In less than two weeks I will be camping on the beach! Hooray! And with that, my friends, I take my leave. Tune in next time. Same smurf time. Same smurf channel.

Gravy

Dear Blog,

Friday I received an unexpected visit at the restaurant wherein I am employed. I was performing a libation of water for a table when I heard a voice behind me: "Can we have [smurf's real name] as our server?"

The hostess replied jovially, "Sure. What's your name?"

"Gravy," came the response. "Gravy" is the moniker by which his associates refer to him in real life.

Soon Gavy and Gravy's lady had been deposited in my section. The future Mrs. Gravy is the relief society president in my erstwhile ward, so I conversed with her about the matter of our mutual acquaintance, Rose. More on that to follow in subsequent entries, dear blog.

At the end of the meal, I processed Gravy's credit card and returned it to them. Gravy wrote "Tip on table!" on the slip of paper, signed it, and returned it to me immediately. When next I approached the table, I found that the duo had absconded.

Upon nearing the table, I beheld a grisly eyesore. Upon a napkin, Gravy had left a note that said, "tip," with an arrow pointing at a solitary can of gravy. Furthermore, the scoundrel had opened an envelope of gravy mix and disembogued the pulverized contents haphazardly across the surface of the table, the dishes, and the chairs. Amid the maelstrom was a cup full of what was meant to appear as urine, but was in actuality apple juice.

My fellow servers were astonished at the scene. I suppose I should have expected as much. Still, I was downcast by the reminder that instead of a monetary gratuity, I was left a can of mushroom gravy and a mess.

Until next time, dear blog, I remain faithfully yours,

-Smurfed Off

Gravy's Christmas present

I woke up late. I had only a few minutes to get to work. And my bladder was ready to splode!

I dashed down the stairs to the bathroom, but it was locked. Roy was showering. I decided to go in the back yard. No good; we don't have one. The front yard wouldn't do, either, since it was wide daylight. I had only one option. This story is not for the weak or faint of heart.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cup. We're talking a pretty big 16 oz. or so tumbler here. I ran back to my bedroom. I was in a lot of pain. I started to fill the cup. Then I finished filling it! What to do!? I couldn't very well run back to the kitchen! Then I noticed an identical cup on Gravy's desk. I snatched it. Soon it was half-way full (or half empty?) and I was all the way not full. Roy was still taking his saccharine time in the shower, so I started getting ready for work.

I ran around like like a pickpocket at the Worlds' Fair, grabbing my apron, my shoes, my clothes, my nametag, my order book, my glasses.... Crap! My glasses were in the bathroom, where Roy was STILL showering! It was approaching that fatal minute when I would be late for work if I didn't leave right then, so I stepped out into the street blindly and ran to the restaurant.

After I'd been there for a few hours, I remembered those two lone cups of urine, sitting heavily upon Gravy's desk. Dum dum dum dum.

After work, I rushed home, and was delighted to find that he wasn't home yet. I looked in our room, and the cups were still sitting there on Gravy's desk. I grabbed them both, sneaked into the bathroom, and started to dump them into the toilet. It was only at that moment that I realized that something was amiss. The cups had both been marked in permanent marker with my name, the date, the word "urine," and a line to show how full they were. I guess Gravy HAD been home. Merry Christmas, buddy!