Of Boys and Bumpers.

Hang around Alaska Magic Mountain sled shop long enough- or even for just 6 hours- and you will learn a surprising variety of things. Stuff I learned today:


1.) I'm lucky if I can keep my vehicle in running order, but boys are determined to spend hours modifying perfectly decent equipment. Hence, Cooper's front bumper is now a viable apponent toward most objects: foreign hotwheel cars, moose, double wide trailers and possibly Mt. Rushmore.

2.) Stitches do not have to be removed by a doctor. In fact, a grumpy sled mechanic can do it on a greasy work bench with a razor blade and/or clippers.

3.) The same batch of pasta can be served in more than 8 different ways to accomodate picky eaters.

4.) I accomplish crosswords at a rate of about 1 every 3 hours.

5.) Household birds are louder than dogs, small children being pinched, car alarms, and southern gospel choirs.

Common sense and Backpacks.

Back packs are handy items. They are especially useful for carring around neccesities. Commonly found in my lime green backpack would be my keys, my gym pants, a chef's hat, a toothbrush, and an odd assortment of peanut butter and other ingredient (eg: banana or cheese) sandwiches. Since the depths of the average backpack is a dark and jumbled mess, and to find anything one must dig violently around, carefully consider the dangers which you are subjecting your hands to.


Such as fillet knives. If you are going to keep such items in your backpack, at least do more than just make a mental note that they are there. Mental notes may be compared to dry erase boards filled with important messages, but which are cleaned by a zamboni at random intervals. Use red tape, or draw a skull and cross bones on the front, or invest in one of those sticks of gum that when you pull it it shocks you and use that as a zipper pull. Anything to slow down the mental zamboni.

Reasons to store knives properly in knife cases and not create backpacks of death:

1.) Stitches hurt. (Though they do make you look like a pirate, which is pretty much sweet.)

2.) Bandaids are expensive, and sometimes there aren't any normal ones left on the shelf and you end up with something like spongebob or Hannah Montana personalized bandages.

3.) No matter how small of a cut it is, blood is a very sneaky substance and will end up smeared across any white article of clothing you are wearing.

4.) In case you haven't realized, the average person only has 10 fingers. The average person also lives to be about 70. That means that you can only afford to lose about 1-1/2 fingers every 10 years. If you keep your knife in your backpack every day, for your average career of 40 years, and you cut yourself once in every 10 times you're digging for your lunch, and you lose 1/10th of a finger every time...well. Don't ask me what the math is but I'm pretty sure you don't have enough fingers to go around.

5.) If your thumbs are the first to go, your wardrobe will be limited to sweatpants, velcro shoes, sports bras and any shirts you don't have to button.

6.) Even if your teeth are in perfect condition, you will have to nourish yourself through a straw. If you are still foolishly intending on keeping you knife in your bag, I would suggest you invest in a blender. (On a side note, once you're down 6 or 7 digits you won't be able to hold a toothbrush anyways either.)

7.) You will be hungry a lot because there is a knife guarding your sandwich. This problem will eventually be eliminated, however, by reason #6.

8.) You will always have to tip your waitresses around 75%, because not only will they bring you food, they will have to feed you. Or provide you with a blender and push all the buttons for you.

PS: Other items which should never be found in backpacks: rattlesnakes, chainsaws, vials of hydrocloric acid, rabid guiney pigs, and last month's peanut butter sandwich.

Epic of a Hampster.

Dude, so. This is the story, of a hampster.

An epic hampster.
An epic, nocturnal hampster.
An epic, noctrunal..marathon-running hampster.
The very hampster which, in fact, lives right outside my door.
My bedroom door.

This hampster runs enough miles on its little wheel thing, that if we could somehow wire it to a generator, it would power the house.

(This is not taking into account the number of hampster we would most likely electrocute before the contraption was correctly wired. Which might be why all good inventors use guiney pigs. But moving on..)

If you were to come over during the day, you would not believe my story. Because during daylight hours, this hampster is the most lethargic being you will ever see. Like a teenager in small rodent form.

But when the lights go out, or more specifically, when I crawl into bed and roll over, fully intending on being asleep in the next few moments at the latest, a starting gun somewhere on a hampster wavelength sounds.

Which leads me to wonder, what the heck do they make those hampster wheels out of? To describe the noise, it resembles the sound your car makes when you are traveling those 20 miles an hour over the speed limit you know you drive on potholey back roads because you just can't stand how long you have to be on them traveling at 35 mph. That hang onto your dentures, hold your glasses on with one hand, your rear view mirror is about to fly off noise.

I have thought of a few different solutions. One, I could remove the wheel. But that involves standing in a dark hallway and reaching into a cage that I can not see, and fishing around for a rodent with unknown sized teeth. All I will say about that is that I have personally seen this hampster stuff an entire pecan into either side of its mouth, so I know there is more than enough room in there for my thumb.

Two, I could clean the cage and accidentally "lose" the hampster, but unfortunately the phrase "man's best friend" has become rather a broad term as applied to pets and the emotional attachments laid upon the rodent by other members of the family would load onto my shoulders a guilt trip not worth the crime.

Like I said, I thought of a few other solutions, involving super glue, duct tape, a hampster treadmill, a few blankets, and, most recently, a shotgun. However, as I lay here writing this, Bilbo (Yes, the hampster is indeed named after a beer guzzling midget that wears the same shoe size as Shaquiel O'Neal'.) is nearing about mile 7.

So, dude.
What would you do, what would you do
If your roommate hampster
Could outrun you?

Less Than Ordinary

No one wants to be ordinary. The American dream is "bigger and better" moving forward, learning, aquiring, upgrading, making more, doing more, going farther, setting records. Beyond even the American dream perhaps, this defines the human spirit everywhere. No one wants to end up the old cat lady; or the man whose highlight of the day is picking up the newspaper at the end of his drive and reading about the accomplishments of others, the people beyond ordinary enough to gain attention in the media.

The ordinary person drives a car.
The above ordinary person drives a nice car, a newer car; has enough money to keep it clean, maybe even modify and customize it.
Am I less than ordinary because I walked to Safeway this morning for my groceries?
Would I be more than less ordinary if maybe I washed my backpack or put a snazzy keychain on it?

The ordinary person has a kitchen.
The above ordinary person has a nice kitchen, and maybe never even uses it because they have someone to cook their food for them.
Am I less than ordinary because I prepare the same four or five meals every week, using only a coffee maker?
Would I be more than less ordinary if I occasionally threw in a microwaved item?

The ordinary person wants to be more than ordinary.
The above ordinary person doesn't know they are.
Am I less than ordinary because I don't want to be more than ordinary?
Would I be more than less ordinary if I tried to achieve a greater degree of less ordinary?

Lobster face.

If you ever wondered what Sam felt like when he killed Shelob, go stab a lobster.
The effect is especially accurate if you're a natural dwarf.

So.

So pretty much, it's almost spring. I woke up, the sun was shining (and kept shining for another 30 minutes before the rain woke up), there were puddles everywhere, and the air smelled like fish. Yep. Spring. And I was like...what the heck. Because I have been waiting for winter for...apparently all winter.

Whatever. Time for spring shopping =)

Hmm.

Wow, I'm really bad at keeping this thing up.
I think I will sum up my life with photos and sub-5 word explanations.

Frozen yogurt and little sister.

Culinary arts: where we turn apples into birds.

Riding!

Sushi!

Japanese day. Whooo.