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Okay, enough about that crazy Raph character. His day is over. He can start his own blog if he likes the attention so much. Back to me.
Not too much going on here - just preparation for the big move and mundane things like getting my eyes checked. Incidentally, my eyesight is incredible. I actually have laser eyes. And I know what you're thinking.
So because I don't have much to talk about, it's time once again for a...
RANDOM PICTURE OF THE DAY:
Actually, it's time for a random SERIES of pictures...of the day.
Back in the spring semester of my junior year, I was asked by a friend of mine to help him out with his final project for a class. In one of the journalism classes, the final project is to produce and film a TV show. They chose to do a late-night talk show in the style of The Tonight Show, et al, and asked me to be the host. So it came to be that I was involved in "The Great Late Show with Tim Ryder." Good thing they got me or the name would have made no sense. ZERO SENSE!
Part of the prep for the show was to get pictures of me that could be used to bump into and out of commercials. So I walked around Drake's campus with none other than Miss Keri Thompson, which was funny because we didn't really know each other at the time but are great friends now. We took quite a few pictures of me (58 in fact) doing many silly things on campus and they really turned out well. They're actually some of my favorite pictures of myself, and I generally don't like pictures of myself, so that's saying something.
Anyway, I recently unearthed the CD with these pics on it from my vault o' crap and thought I'd share some. I really was tempted to just post a ton of them, but I thought it would be better if I doled them out in series, just to stretch things out.
The first series is with some statues outside the Harmon Fine Arts Center, or FAC. (It's where all the music and theater nerds live.)
At first, the group and I were getting along great. I thought we meshed well and really sounded great together. I was going to name us "Tim and the Coppertops," because some of their heads were wearing through and maybe Duracell would sponsor us.
Then that stupid little boy kept losing his place in the music. Look at me trying to get him back on beat, but he's not paying attention. Look, he's not even LOOKING at the music. How unprofessional.
So I thought I'd switch gears and bring out the axe. (I'm totally rocking a G chord in this picture.)
I could totally wail with those guys. (I'm still rocking a G chord, you just can't tell.)
But then that stupid little girl told me I was out of tune.
So I broke my guitar over her head.
It was the big finale.
You can thank Keri for the great photography. And don't worry, there are plenty more where those came from. Just wait until you see the series entitled "Variations on a Theme of Olmsted Furniture and Howard the D-Shoppe Guy."
My good friend Raph turns 23 today. For some reason, the greatest gift I can think to give him is a post entirely dedicated to making him look like a goofball. He doesn't really need a post for that, of course, but I do what I can to remind the world that Raph is, in fact, a huge goofball.
This picture is almost as big an indictment of myself as it is of him, but it fits just the same. It's almost artsy (note the jacket half on - that's a social statement of some kind), but mostly just proves what happens when idiots get cameras.
One of the things we loved to do on our camping trips was to go take awesome action shots by the lake. With the waves crashing in the background, it just seemed appropriate to take pictures where we looked like wizards and the like. Here, Raph is imitating Mitsurugi, the character he always plays in Soul Caliber II. (I feel the need to remind you [and him] that this is also the character he completely failed to beat me with in the final match for Champion of the Universe.)
This is not Raph making a funny face. Raph always makes this face when posing for pictures. He honestly thinks it looks good.
And of course, who could forget...
The infamous "Raph stoned at graduation" picture? Man, I bet Gavin's speech was about ten times as funny for Raph that day.
Happy birthday, buddy.
Everyone feel free to share your favorite Raph story. Or just make one up.
Well, it took a System Restore and some third-party extraction software, but I figured it out. Switchfoot is on the iPod and the evil record companies have been held at bay for one day more. (And I agree, The Meez, it is quite good. So shut up and go listen to your Goldfinger, Jacob.)
Okay, on to happier topics. Let me tell you about my new apartment in Chicago.
Let's imagine, for the purposes of this exercise, that my life is a sitcom. The series focuses on a mildly sheltered Midwestern youth moving to the big city for the first time. He gets an apartment with a friend, not a wildly expansive Friends-like apartment, but one that's realistic to his recently graduated price range. This apartment (and the surrounding environment) has many wacky quirks that lend to sitcom hilarity. Can you picture it?
Okay, keep that picture in your mind. I'm not even joking you - that's my apartment. To a T! I'm going to live in a sitcom apartment.
Allow me to explain, in easy-to-understand list format:
- The apartment is located above a dry cleaners. Our packages are delivered to the cleaners if no one is home. The owners are apparently very nice and will give you a discount once they get to know you. I do not know if the owners of the cleaners are Asian, but given that the name of the business is "Swan Cleaners," I like to think that they are. (Or that they are in the business of cleaning swans.) Unfortunately, we do not have to go through the cleaners to get to our apartment. That would be extra-special hilarious.
- The apartment is literally RIGHT next to the El tracks. There is a bend in the tracks to avoid our building. I could probably reach out the window and touch the train as it passes, but that's just because my arms are 10 feet long. And you can hear it every time it goes by. Picture Brad Pitt and Gweneth Paltrow's apartment in Se7en, only the place doesn't shake as much and no one's head ends up in a box.
- My room is not even close to being square. It is long and narrow and kind of curves around in a way that would give M.C. Escher a headache. In short, it resembles my own body. Also, there is a step-up closet. Yes, step-UP. I predict lots of head-hitting.
- I have three roommates. Two are female comedians. I'm not even talking comedians like "Ha ha, they're so funny." I'm talking comedians like "Ha ha, they're so funny, they make a living being funny." (Regular blog visitors will know one of them as the infamous tara d.) I have another roommate (male) who I really don't know. He's the wildcard. Three's Company plus wildcard updated to 2005, anyone? I demand Don Knotts be our landlord.
- Next to the cleaners on the ground floor is Stage Left Theatre, an alternative, kind of radical political theater that could provide many hilarious guest stars in the "crazy actor" mold.
- It's just a few blocks south of Wrigley Field and right between two of the big improv theatres in the city, making the apartment pretty much the epicenter of hilarity and revelry for the entire city.
So there you have it. I'm moving in early next month and I'm super excited for the sitcom to start filming. Or if not sitcom, at least a reality show.
Currently listening to: NOT the new Switchfoot album, that's for sure!!
Current mood: Salty
Oh, I'm salty alright. FRIGGIN' SALTY!!
The saltiness is directed at EMI, Columbia Records, and their parent company, Sony. You see, the new Switchfoot album, Nothing is Sound, comes equipped with RI-DONK-U-LOUS copy-protection software - so ridonkulous, in fact, that it only allows you to rip the audio file to a computer in protected WMA format. Are these files compatible with iTunes, and by extension, my trusty iPod?
No, they are not.
I don't listen to music these days unless it's coming through my iPod.
Hence the saltiness.
When are record labels going to learn that taking measures such as these do NOTHING to stop piracy and EVERYTHING to infuriate loyal customers? Honestly, they're so paranoid about piracy that they're willing to massively inconvenience users of the MOST POPULAR digital music player in the world just to feel like they're doing something about the problem!
Hey, here's a thought, music industry: STOP PUTTING YOUR ENTIRE MARKETING BUDGET BEHIND CRAPPY, FLASH-IN-THE-PAN ARTISTS!! IT'S CALLED ARTIST DEVELOPMENT - LOOK INTO IT!! People are willing to pay for things that they love and are loyal to. Family Guy is probably one of the most downloaded things on BitTorrent, yet their DVDs still set sales records? Why is this? Try extreme loyalty based on extreme quality. It's that simple.
Grrr...I am so peeved about this. (I bet you can tell.) I started out just feeling mildly inconvenienced and rapidly progressed to decrying the state of the entire music industry. (Yes, I do this often, but come on. I don't need reminding.) And I just watched Switchfoot on Conan and feel bad that they have to be swept up in all of this. They're such a great band and from what I can tell, care very little about making money from their music. I highly doubt that they had anything to do with all of this. Maybe they don't even know.
Anyway, you can bet that some highly-charged e-mails will come out of this. President of Sony, look out. My tongue is a-fiery.
I guess it's just a good things I have uber-haxxor friends that have nothing better to do than figure out workarounds to this.
EDIT: I was right about the band not knowing about this whole thing. Check out this post from Tim Foreman on Switchfoot's message boards. Glad to know I can still stand proudly as a Switchfoot fan.
Haven't posted for a week. Sorry. Much to report. But not tonight. Tonight, two things:
My favorite commercial right now is the one with the song that goes, "Being a dad is AWE-some." I sing along every time.
Also, my little second cousin Layla is hilarious. I went to her fourth birthday party and put together Dora's Talking Kitchen for her. That's right - a talking kitchen. Assembled by me.
Anyway, she got a cat and named it Waffle, after what she had for breakfast that morning.
Then she found a stray cat at that landfill. She brought it home and kept it. Its name?
Pancake.
I finished the Ninja Game. Every level. Owned.
This is the proudest accomplishment of my entire life.
Now, off to Chicago to look at an apartment. Keep your fingers crossed, it sounds like a great one...
Okay, so I made a mistake when I left Rob completely out of the Risk account. He did a lot of important stuff, like...show up late. In complete Best Buy regalia. And then play PS2 all night, while occasionally looking at the board and encouraging Jake to do something. Man, I can't believe I left that out.
Although after I left the game, we did thoroughly enjoy the many nuances of Super Monkey Ball, which is of course a video game and not a terrible euphemism. Especially great is the monkey boxing. But it's hard to steer your monkey when you're laughing your head off.
Geez...steer your monkey...I give up. It's impossible to talk about that game without sounding obscene.
Good thing though - we really don't have to worry about it anymore. Josh was trying to take the disc out of the case and BROKE IT IN HALF!! Guess all that brickmonkeying really built him up. So...no more Monkey Ball. Sad, because Monkey Bowling was really great.
Okay, so I need your help on something. I still haven't changed my sleeping habits from college, so I have some late nights, but even worse, sometimes I can't fall asleep. So what do I do when I'm lying in bed at 2 in the morning? Sometimes, I imagine I go to Hogwarts. That's what you think about when you re-read the entire Harry Potter series because you have the time. But sometimes, I write jokes.
And these are really weird, surreal messed-up jokes, and I have no idea if they're funny to anyone else besides me when I'm in my bed at 2 in the morning. So I'm going to post a few and you can tell me what you think. When you read these, think Mitch Hedberg-ian one-liners, only me, slightly ripping off this style.
- If you sustained an injury while walking, it probably wouldn’t be good advice to walk it off.
- Popes get to name themselves when they become Pope, but they all pick boring names. I'd be Pope Batman the Destructor.
- If it was really two-percent milk, the container would not be nearly as full. It would be ninety-eight percent air.
- Once I got lost in a corn maze. To a Native American, that sentence sounded like, “Once I got lost in a corn corn.”
- When in Rome, do as the Romans do: make fun of American tourists trying to fit in with the locals.
- Most people react badly when someone says, “Hey man, I’m gonna knock you into next week,” but I think that would be cool because then you would be in the future.
- What if your mutant power was that you never had to sleep? You probably couldn’t go be a superhero, but you could get a lot of stuff done.
- I am very thankful that I have never had to say the phrase, “Oh no, my brother is trapped inside the TV.” But now I have and I can never use that joke again.
- I named my dog Armageddon, but mostly I call him Red. Especially when I have to call him home for dinner. I changed because I was spooking the neighbors.
- If you are celebrating Independence Day and you are counting on your neighbor to bring the hot dogs, you are completely missing the point.
FRIDAY MORNING EDIT: After I posted this last night, I went to lie in bed and the very thing I described happened again. So here's last night's 2 AM joke:
- Do you think Heaven has a library? I bet if it does, it has every book in The Babysitter's Club series, because God seems like he values completion.
It was just over a week ago that I controlled the entire Western Hemisphere. My biggest rival to world domination had retreated to Great Britain, his spirit broken by my overseas offensive. My other two rivals were fighting a brutal but pointless war in the far East. I was virtually assured victory. Then it all fell apart.
I'm speaking of course, about a killer game of Risk. I relate it to you because I think there is a lesson here for us all.
Here's the situation: I do indeed control the entire Western hemisphere. The only three entry points to my territory - Brazil, Alaska, and Greenland - are heavily fortified. The only other person to control a whole continent was Jake, who claimed to only want peace for Europe, but I couldn't stand for that, so I took Iceland. After that, he said the game was over and pulled all of his troops back to Great Britain, generating three troops turn after turn and doing nothing. Josh and Scott were locked in some strange civil war over New Guinea because Josh simply cannot fathom playing Risk without building out from Australia. So I'm looking pretty good.
Then Josh and Scott form an alliance, which I say is totally bogus in games of Risk. But whatever, they did. So they start coming at me and goad me into fighting a war on three fronts and spreading my troops too thin. Meanwhile, Jake is still building up his forces, really for no reason. Every turn, he just puts three guys in Great Britain and says he's done. Eventually, he gets about 45 troops on this little territory, which essentially turns Great Britain into a police state. There's a bobby on every corner at this point - you can't get away with anything.
Here's where the tide turns - this whole time, Scott has been trying to goad Jake into attacking me. Eventually the goading becomes too much for any man to bear (plus, Scott called him fat, example ONE BILLION of Scott's mouth getting him in trouble) and he turns his enormous army, not on me, but on Scott. He uses the "push" technique, taking Scott's territories one by one, leaving one man to guard them and pushing the huge stack of pieces onward, eventually wiping Scott completely from the board. This entire time, Scott is shaking his head and saying, "I really did not see this coming." It was an amazing act of aggression from a player that had been sitting in Great Britain the entire game. I guess they ran out of tea or something.
So, to make a long story short -
Greek chorus: TOO LATE!
Shut up. So, I'm screwed by this point, so I turn my pieces over to Scott so I can go play PS2. He retreats to Madagascar for some reason - a strange move, considering he had to fight there just to retreat there. Jacob, his mission accomplished but forces depleted, succumbs to Josh's now monstrous Asian army. Eventually, there's a standoff for Madagascar, but Josh wins because he's a jerk and makes alliances. Plus, it was his board we were breaking in, so that's a 10% home-court advantage.
The lesson? Honestly, I've forgotten. It might have been something about not trusting the English or two weak enemies who team up. Or maybe it was something about how Brazilian troops get distracted by their hot women and lose battles they shouldn't. But it was most likely just the general advice of not calling Jake fat, because he'll make you regret it.
And that truly is a lesson for us all.
P.S. Did you know Ron's Patronus takes the form of a Jack Russell terrier? Isn't that adorable? A little dog yipping at evil dementors? I hope he has cause to produce one in Book 7 - I think it would be hilarious. Man, the things you learn while scouring J.K. Rowling interviews at 2 in the morning...
Hey, go check out this site really quick. Seriously, just click on the link and look around for a second. It's not anything gross, it's just a website that sells a video game machine.
Now ask yourself this question: Would you buy anything from that website?
I mean, it's only a non-licensed product that plugs into your TV and lets you play 111 old Nintendo games, right? Nothing out of the ordinary. But let's consider the warning signs, shall we?
#1 - The fantastic page copy that begins, "Okay well you know about the Original All-In-One Classic Game System, but you don't know about this!!" and later exclaims, "Not to mention you can play actual Famicom & NES cartridge games all in wireless glory if you choose. Gaming Euphoria!" Now THAT's some good, professionally-written copy.
#2 - The actual packaging says nothing about what the product does, only that it was made in China and may have something to do with bare-chested men kickboxing what appear to be killer robots of some kind.
#3 - The system itself resembles a penguin.
#4 - One of their "glowing customer reviews" is literally from Jane Doe.
#5 - Clicking the "Contact Us" link will reveal that they operate out of a P.O. Box in Chicago. There's an e-mail address, but no phone number. Take that, authorities trying to track them down!
#6 - In their FAQ, the question "Is there a warranty on the system?" is answered as such: "Yes, when you purchase these systems directly from us you get a full staff for customer service questions and full warranty support." Ah, I see. Very detailed warranty. Very comforting.
#7 - The controller is wireless. This is awesome, but if you want to play two player, you have to plug the second controller into the first controller. Double awesome.
Additional warning signs not seen on website:
#1 - A kiosk at the Springfield mall was selling these not more than a month ago. I went back recently - the kiosk was deserted.
#2 - A sign posted in my local Game XChange read, "Ask the clerk about our special non-licensed Nintendo game players! $35!" It was not out for display - you had to ask to see it. This is literally an item being sold out of the back room.
That's a lot of warning signs.
I still bought it.
It's the shadiest thing I've ever bought.
And it's the coolest thing ever.
The menu claims that it actually is 12,000 games in one. However, a little investigation reveals that it's only the original 111 games given hundreds of other names by the crazy Chinese programmers. For example, any attempt to boot up the game Policeman and Thief results in the game Paperboy.
Also, the thing still looks like a penguin. Even worse, when you push the power button (its nose), the eyes light up and it looks like a demonic penguin is staring at you. And you can't turn it away, because then the wireless receiver doesn't read the incoming signal. But you can plug the light gun into the side of it and play Duck Hunt, which Allyn does gleefully.
Oh, did I mention I bought it as a wedding present for Josh and Allyn?
Allyn is an old-school gamer at heart and loves Super Mario Brothers more than anything, so I thought she's appreciate the chance to play it on a system that resembles a demonic penguin. (And you should see the body english that girl uses when she really needs Mario to jump far. It's amazing.)
So if there are authorities looking for the owners of these slightly shady machines, I can give you their address.
I've decided I need to post more frequently, but a lot of times I don't get to blogging until the end of the day and by then I'm tired and want to write about certain things but don't want to give these things short shrift so I just skip it and hold off until tomorrow but then I feel bad because I didn't post anything and this vicious cycle continues until it's been almost a week and I feel like a slacker and so I just blurt everything out in one long run-on sentence BUT NOT ANYMORE!! IT ENDS TONIGHT!!
I was going through all my pictures on my computer and realized that there are plenty of gems that deserved to be shared but for one reason or another (laziness) have never been. So from now on, if I can't give you a good blog entry, I'll at least try to give you a good pick-a-ture, then attempt to make a pseudo-witty comment about it, then allow you to make truly witty and often cutting comments about it. That's how, from this point forward, we will roll. Most pictures are worth a thousand words. Mine will be worth no more than 275. I'm not greedy. So I now present to you the very first...
RANDOM PICTURE OF THE DAY:
This one is in honor of tonight's return of DICEY (way to be on the ball, The Meez). It's a pic from one of last year's rehearsals. The game was Blind Freeze and I had just taken someone's position. My brilliant initiation: "How do you like my new hand hat? It's made from my hands, and it's a hat. It's my handhat."
Honestly people, with that kind of genius, I don't understand why I'm not famous already.
Hold the phone. Batten the hatches. Lock up your daughters. It has finally come to pass.
One of the Ryder brothers owns a gaming platform.
After a childhood full of anguish from not owning a Nintendo (despite many requests), a tortured adolescence spent going to friends' houses to play Goldeneye*, and a college career in which I spent more time in other people's dorm rooms than my own, just because they had Soul Caliber II**, the cycle of depravity has ended.
Apparently, getting married is AWESOME. Besides the fact that you pledge yourself to another person and all that hullaballoo, people give you a TON of cool stuff. Josh no longer goes anywhere unless he knows he's going to receive a gift at his destination. And he and Allyn now have a real fountain in their apartment that showers a cascade of Target gift cards. It's right in the middle of their kitchen. Very weird, but extremely opulent.
Josh has managed to convince everyone that matters (i.e. Allyn, Mom, himself) that basic mastery of video games is an essential skill for today's youth minister. Ergo, buying a Playstation 2 can be counted as a business expense/preparation for a career of molding the minds of youth. So he swiped a few Target gift cards from the fountain and did just that. He and I were rocking out at Lord of the Rings: Return of the King last night (He was Aragorn. I was Legolas. And we were awesome.) And Allyn was really enjoying my gift of Super Puzzle Fighter, which she inexplicably refers to as Jewel Thief. Good times.
Man, anybody want to have a fake wedding and scam some gifts***?
*Which I still suck at.
**Of which I remain the CHAMPION OF THE UNIVERSE.
***Scarlett Johansson, I'm looking in your direction.
I don't know what it is about my current social life that keeps putting me around kids who shout hilarious things, but it happened again tonight. I was at a cookout with Josh and Allyn with some of their friends (because most of my social life is in fact vicarious) and I was playing ladder golf with a bunch of kids.
One of these kids was a small child with a toy gun (which Josh and were never allowed to play with as kids - I cite this as the main reason why I am now so weak-willed and afraid of conflict) and he was of course firing it every which way. It was one of those toy revolvers that don't really shoot anything, but just makes clicking noises. So he's click-clicking away and all of a sudden he yells,
"WHEN I SHOOT...YOU...YOU GUYS GO!" *pause* *click*
We were already in the midst of our game, so I don't really know what he was trying to signal the start of. But it gets better. A little while later, he yells,
"LOOK OUT, I'M GONNA SHOOT THE DOG!!"
I suppose this should be alarming behavior, but he was really cute about it, so we didn't take it as a red flag. Until, not a second later, this escapes his mouth:
"SOMEONE GET ME A LIGHTER!!"
Now, as to why a lighter is necessary for the operation of the gun, your guess is as good as mine. I suppose he might have been pretending the gun was a can of hair spray and was ready to make a homemade flamethrower, but that seems like a stretch for a little kid. All I know was I was laughing so hard, I had to skip my next throw. Man, kids are hilarious.
Like most of you out there in InternetLand, I get a lot of junk e-mail (also known as spam, for those of you who haven't heard), especially to my old e-mail address that I've been using since I started visited Warez sites...I mean surfing the Internet.
Most of the spam I get is your general, run-of-the-mill spam. Increase the size of your package, generic drugs from God-knows-where, earn money by doing nothing, that kind of thing. But occassionally, they're on subjects that interest me.
And nothing interests me more than sexy Christian singles.
Because I like my ladies hot, but holy. Sexy, but sectarian. Bone-able, but baptized. And so when I get an e-mail (solicited or otherwise) claiming that there's a place where I can meet these sexy Christian singles on the web, I'm all ears. Especially when opening that e-mail leads to this happy surprise:
Yowza. No one said anything about sexy ASIAN Christian singles. That totally sweetens the deal. I think this lady will totally drum up a lot of business. Because if there's one thing Christians love, it's blatant displays of near-pornographic material.
I showed this a while ago to Josh and Allyn and they had these very different responses:
Allyn - "what is christian about that girl? don't advertise if it's not for sale. a motto to live by."
Josh - "That's hilarious. Her lingerie must have been blessed."
And Allyn's response to Josh's comment? It was, and I quote, "ugh."
I swear, those two are a hit reality TV show waiting to happen. Laugh a minute, they are.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some "advertising" to do.
You'd think that at a Springfield Muni production of "Beauty and the Beast," all the laughs would come from the show. You'd think that, but you'd be wrong. It's Hambone.
Actually, I didn't know his name. At this fateful evening, most of my hearty laughs were earned before the show by the totally adorable young lad in the seat to my right. When I got there, it was raining off and on, to the point that the outdoor show was in jeopardy. So the little boy's Grandma was fashioning a poncho for him out of a garbage bag, a la Garden State. Now picture the little ball of energy, about 5 or 6, SO excited that he gets to see dancing teacups on stage tonight. We have this exchange as a sort of introduction:
Boy: (to me) I'm wearing a garbage bag!
Me: Yeah, you are.
Boy: (to audience in general) I'M WEARING A GARBAGE BAG!! (dances around)
Hilarious. But the fun did not stop there. In response to his query as to how much time was remaining before the show started, his Grandma said there was about two minutes, so if he counted to sixty twice, the show would start. This was his obvious reaction, which Grandma really should have seen coming:
Boy: (again, to audience in general) ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN!
I think he got into the teens before Grandma got embarrassed and made him quiet down. Meanwhile, I'm shaking from laughter in the seat next to him. But he kept going. At some point he got impatient:
Boy: (to stage) C'MON, START IT!!
But my favorite thing he said all night (and his little show only took place before the curtain rose. I think he was asleep by intermission.) was this:
Boy: (to I-don't-know-who) EVERYBODY SWITCH SEATS!!
As I noted, I don't know who he was yelling at. Maybe he was just yelling at his family in the couple of seats next to him, maybe he was yelling at the entire row, maybe he meant for the entire audience to get up and switch seats with someone. I don't know. But man, how much fun would it have been if everyone had done it?
At what age do we learn to be embarrassed? Can I go back and skip it?
Last night while watching the Illinois State Fair Parade, I had a revelation about the continued devolution of the human race. That revelation was this:
Sometime in the future, there will come a day when the youth of America communicate solely through message T-shirts.
It's an epidemic that has already reached alarming proportions. It seems everywhere I looked, at least half of any given group of teenagers were wearing shirts with inane messages on them like, "Keep staring, I might do a trick" and "I'm with him because he requires perfection" and "Seriously, I swear I'm not an idiot."
Are these really considered clever amongst the youth of today? Are they wearing these to school and walking through the halls with huge laughter rippling in their wake? And can you even wear message T-shirts* more than once? The second time around, aren't all your classmates just like, "Hey, Ronald's wearing his camo 'Ha! Now you can't see me' shirt again. How about that." The surprise seems like it's only good once. I feel like if you need your T-shirt to say something clever and witty** for you, you need to just give it up.
Mark my words: the teenagers of the future will have no need for verbal communication. They will all be issued high-tech T-shirts upon reaching the age of 11 (teenagers are getting younger and younger). These T-shirts will have microthin LCD screens on the front and can display thousands of "witty" sayings that will be used in all forms of communication. Teens will have no need to communicate anything that isn't a prepackaged T-shirt saying.
And then Pestilence, Famine, War, and then the world ends***.
*Message T-shirts: very easy to mistype and leave out the "r," thus turning the phrase even more appropriate.
**I think it's very rare when a message T-shirt is clever and/or witty and/or even funny. However, in doing research for this post, I discovered a series of musical instrument-based message T's. And the line "Pianists Love to Tinkle" did earn an honest chuckle. What can I say, I loves me some musical puns.
***I used the footnotes bit again.
Feel free to leave your favorite/least favorite saying from a message T.
As long as we're on the trivia kick, here's a bit of trivia for you: What's the deadliest punchline in history?
Answer: "you sockdologizing old man-trap."
It was during the raucous laughter that followed this line that John Wilkes Booth assassinated Abraham Lincoln on April 14, 1865. Booth was one of the most popular stage actors of his day and although he was not in the cast of Our American Cousin that night at Ford's Theatre, he did know the play quite well and waited until the largest laugh line of the night to make his move, in hopes that the laughter would mask the sound of his gunshot.
The whole line reads as follows: ""Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal—you sockdologizing old man-trap." This line makes very little sense out of context and judging from what passed for Civil War humor, it would doubtfully make us laugh much today even if it were in context.
However, the moral remains clear: Humor, though a profound tool of joy, can also be subverted for evil means. Therefore, I shall no longer practice it.
Statler: (from balcony) I wasn't aware that he ever did! Doh-ho-ho-ho!
P.S. I went to the Lincoln Presidential Museum today. It was way cool and I learned a lot. Thank you, museum, for making learning fun.
Well, I was going to have a whole series of posts in which I relate favorite stories of the wedding, but Rob not only beat me to the punch, he picked pretty much the same exact moments I was going to talk about. But I'll scan in some pictures soon and perhaps witty comments will accompany.
With their new glut of fake commercials, Geico is cementing itself as the new Energizer bunny. And just like the bunny, at first I loved it, now I want to shoot it. Just give me a clear shot, lizard. I dare you.
But fear not, as I made a lovely discovery on this wonderful thing called the Internet today. As the title of this post alludes - my favorite piece of trivia is knowing the names of the two old Muppet dudes who sit in the balcony and make fun of stuff. Because the world can never have too much Waldorf and Statler.
Well, the wedding was wonderful. Everything went smoothly, everyone was looking lovely (the groomsmen looked money, I'll tell you that right now), and I didn't forget the ring. I kept it in my tux pocket all day and would do periodic ring checks. This is where I would just say, "Ring Check!" to no one in particular as I checked to make sure it was still in its box. During pictures before the ceremony, I checked about once every half hour, but as we got closer and closer, I started checking more frequently until eventually, just before I walked in the church, I was checking about once a second. This was difficult, as the motion of removing the box from the pocket and opening it to check takes more than a second, so it just became one continuous motion of checking. It looked as awkward as it sounds, but I didn't lose it!
Many of you were wondering how my toast went. I'll post it in the replies so you can read it if you like. Obviously it loses something when you read it instead of EXPERIENCE it, but it's the next best thing. (That sentence would be funnier if I could figure out a way to make the word "experience" glow neon green and kind of bulge in and out. And also, there would be a "waa-aaah" sound, like it was toxic waste. But I can't. So imagine it. There, wasn't that funnier?) It seemed to go over quite well and I received many compliments on it, so I'm happy. My jam session with the Rhythmaires went very well too. Man, I love those guys. So old, yet so awesome.
So the happy couple are off on their Caribbean cruise, the relatives have all gone home (except for Gramma - we're rocking it together for another couple weeks), and I'm still here. But it's okay - I'm playing Guild Wars again and Josh leaving means I'll finally get a crack at the new Harry Potter. And I've all of a sudden got a lead on a great place in Chicago. So in short, my life is good. Hope yours is too.
(Except for yours, Scott and Rob. Hitting on my underage cousin means your lives are forfeit. FORFEIT, I SAY!!)
P.S. After seeing Wedding Crashers, I came to this conclusion: Christopher Walken could read the phone book to me and I would die from laughing before he got halfway through the A's.
So...my brother's getting married today. As I mentioned in the title, that's weird/gross. But I think it's going to be okay, because the girl's pretty cool. Here's just one example why.
Recently, I was helping Josh assemble some new furniture, because I'm SUPER handy with the tools. At some point, I made fun of Allyn for accenting a common phrase in a weird way. (Like how most people say they're going to Best BUY, she would say she's going to BEST Buy.) So she gets all fake mad and yells:
"Well, I'm sorry I'm put-TING the wrong ac-CENT on some of my WORDS!"
That's right. She tried to accent the wrong syllable of a one-syllable word. It was one of those moments that was so hilarious, I had to run out of the room. That's my favorite kind of laughing. Anyone who can make me laugh like that, intentionally or not, is okay by me.
I'm the Best Man today, so I have to do all kinds of stuff like remember the ring and give the toast and tie cans to the car and stuff like that. Let's hope I don't forget anything.
So a lot of cool things have happened recently that deserve recapping, but I'm not going to talk about them right now because I'm going to bed. But here's a question for you all:
My brother just got a new cell phone and it can use mp3s as ringtones. This might not be that exciting, except that he's offering those people in his inner circle the opportunity to pick what song - nay, what snippet - they would like to represent them whenever they call.
So here's the dilemma: out of all the music I love, what should I pick to represent my entire being (at least, as it's encapsulated in my brother's cell phone)? Do I go with my song of the moment? Do I pick a timeless classic? Do I go with a quirky lyric that represents me or a catchy melody? Or do I just say shove it all and go with Tom Jones?
So I offer the problem up to you: What song snippet, dear readers, should I pick? I anxiously await your opinion.
(You can also say what song snippet you would pick for yourself. I'm not THAT self-centered. I'll find your choices interesting, I swear.)
True story: when I was a kid, I had a real hard time understanding the difference between Jack Nicholson and Jack Nicklaus. For a while, I thought they were the same person: just a raving psychotic golfer.
Likewise, I always confuse the movies Sophie's Choice and Rosemary's Baby, probably because I have never seen either.
Hey, if you're coming to this site for the first time ever or first time in a while because of my mass e-mail, welcome/welcome back. Now take THIS!! *karate chop to the throat*
Ah, I'm joking. I didn't really just karate chop you in the throat. If I had, you would have felt it. Trust me. I'm just trying to keep you on your toes. Now feel free to look around, leave comments, whatever. It'll be fun, I promise. Scout's Honor.*
*I was never in the Scouts.
Ah, it's good to be back in Ill-i-nwah. I'd had just about enough of being in a state that Sufjan Stevens hasn't written an album about. I'll never do it again. It's only Michigan and Illinois from here on out. Until he writes more albums. C'mon Rhode Island! (By the way, Sufjan's "Come On Feel the Illinoise" is really good. I'm just finishing it now. Not surprisingly, my favorite track was "Chicago" although coming in a surprising second was "Jacksonville.")
I just got done setting up my room AGAIN. I did it when I came home from college, but apparently, coming home from vacation warrants a re-set up as well. It seems that in my absence it was necessary to box up my entire room and move it so carpet could be laid. (Note that I timed my vacation to avoid this manual labor. Pretty brilliant if you ask me.) So I came back and everything was in boxes. And now, after much work, stuff is no longer in boxes. I'm very proud of my accomplishment, considering I've done nothing that required much effort (except fighting a forest fire) in the last couple weeks. (Oh, and laser tag! I played laser tag with my cousin. It was rad.)
It reminded me of an aptitude test I took once. (The unpacking of boxes, not the laser tag. That would have been an awesome aptitude test.) This was one in early high school and was supposed to tell all the confused little kiddies what careers best suit them. There was a section on your interests that asked a series of "Do you like to..." questions. You then marked yes or no. Sounds like a blast, I know. I remember one question very specifically:
"Do you like to...put things in boxes?"
It made me laugh at first, because it was so ridiculous. But then I started to think, "Wait, I DO like putting things in boxes." Then I started to overthink, "But what if I put yes? Will the results* tell me that my skills and interests mean that I'm best suited to be a packer for all my life? I don't want that! I mean, I like putting things in boxes, don't get me wrong. I like it, but forever is a long time to be packing boxes."
So I put no.
Sometimes I wonder if my life would have gone differently if I had marked yes on that test.** Would I have even gone to college? Would I have moved to some city with docks? Maybe God's trying to tell me something. Something like, "Hey moron! Forget this whole "making people laugh" business! I made you to put things in boxes! Why do you think your arms are so long, huh?! Stop typing on your stupid blog, move to Detroit, and get to packing!" Yeah, I think that's exactly what he's trying to say.***
Well, that settles it. Look out room, you're going back in the box!!
*results: very easy to mistype as resluts. Be careful.
**This is not a serious statement. I am not having an existential crisis. Do not panic.
***I like this footnotes bit.
The remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: cinematically proving my theory that a pack of attacking squirrels is the scariest thing imaginable. I was literally short of breath while that scene played out my greatest fear in brilliant color and giant size on the silver screen before me. It freaked me out.
I also thought that the stretched-out figure of Mike Teevee as he exited the factory kind of looked like me. Or at least represented how other people see me. And that made me sad. So very sad.
Also, "Puppet Burn Ward." Hee hee hee.
(The preceding three paragraphs would make very little sense if you have not in fact seen the remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I would say that this is something you should rectify as soon as possible. I can recommend the film, as several bits made me laugh heartily, especially the first time they cut to a close-up of Christopher Lee. I just thought it was funny that Dooku/Saruman was Willy Wonka's dad.)
And now, some more pictures from the tropics.
Here I am on an island near Highbourne Cay, feeding native iguanas. They were pretty cool guys, except a couple of them who tried to whip me with their tails. That's how they attack. Pretty scary, but not as much as a pack of squirrels. Ugh...squirrels. *shiver*
This big guy was my friend, but not at first. At first he was all, "I'm gonna eat your face." But I was all, "How about this banana instead?" And he was all, "Sweet! I don't have teeth, but I can just gum that banana into mush. Thanks, man!" And I was all, "You don't have teeth? Forget it, loser!" I SCREAMED at him!!
Then he ate my face.
It took a long time because he didn't have teeth.
Then I got it back, which is good, otherwise this picture would have been terrible. This is a fish cleaning station in Highbourne. If you'll notice the sign, it gives instructions: "Poke da eyes, cut da guts, clean up da mess." These instructions also apply to the area's mafia-run drug smuggling operations.
I totally look like a model in this picture, but anyone can look like a model if the background is this pretty.
I had a great time on the boat, but all good things come to an end. So to get me home, my aunt and uncle shipped me off with some relative strangers on a sport fishing boat who were headed to Nassau. This is neighborly behavior in the sailing world. We only had to pay them a bottle of liquor.
Nassau is an interesting city, with tons of tourists and also trash. I walked around the opulent Atlantis resort with my right hand buried in my pocket so no one would notice my Holiday Inn wristband. It was worth just looking, because the architecture and accomodations were fairly ridiculous. They had an amazing attraction called "The Dig" which was basically an aquarium with nice set pieces to make it look like ruins. Huge sting rays there. HUGE. I also walked through the casino and thought about playing a bit until I saw people playing $500 blackjack. So I just shouted "Double down!!" a few times and then left.
Now I'm back in Boca, hanging out with my two cousins, which involves skimboarding and scavenging condemned buildings for old electronics equipment, depending on who I'm with. My cousins are very different. Also, we watched Cloak & Dagger. It was great.
Finally, many of you have heard me extol the virtues of Dinosaur Comics, either on this blog or in person. Well, I've taken the obsession to a new level. In the last post's comments, I made a comment that made me feel a bit like one of the characters in the comic. So, since the artwork is the same in every strip, I downloaded a template and made my own. This is dedicated to anyone who didn't like my hat.
Today I decided to use a different format for my blog posting.
Namely...PICTURE POST!! *alarms, sirens, claxons, etc.* Whoop whoop whoop whoop!! Also, woot!
(If you're curious as to what exactly happened "tomorrow," technically speaking what happened was we didn't have Internet access. But other stuff happened too. Here's a rundown, complete with pic-a-tures.)
This is the mighty vessel I find myself aboard: Chartwell is her name. You might not think that you could live for an extended period of time on it, but you'd be wrong. It's Hambone. There is a surprising amount of stuff packed in there - a small kitchen and den, the main bedroom and guest bathroom, a couple bunks, and two heads (that's boatspeak for bathroom). I hear that 9 people have stayed onboard at one time. It's great, although the ceilings are very low. The "hit my head" count is at 11, although only one of those really hurt and made me swear in my own language. (It also left a mark.)
Here are the cast of characters:
This is my Uncle Charles. He's such a good businessman, he needs two computers. I'd say that he looks like he could be in Hackers, but they're obviously not Macs, so that wouldn't work. He pilots the ship and the dinghy most of the time and does a darn good job of it.
This is my Aunt Molly and I standing in front of the skeletal remains of a sperm whale that died from ingesting a plastic bag. Way to go, stupid whale. Loser. Molly is the crazy aunt that sends me weird postcards and news articles when I'm at school and makes art from things she finds on beaches and in dumpsters. I'd call her my weird aunt, but that term really doesn't carry a lot of weight in this family. She's been sailing forever and her sailing knots kick my sailing knots all around the harbor.
This is the real captain of the ship. Paca is a 13-year-old Weimaraner who believes that she's the captain, we're the crew, and our job is to take her to interesting places. Despite her being a dog, this is pretty much true. Sometimes she acts like a bossy old lady and she's mostly deaf, but she's still a lot of fun. I talk to her and it makes me laugh. She also farts a lot. And it smells.
If she uses you as a pillow, it means you're in.
This is what greeted me upon arrival. The Staniel Cay Yacht Club is vastly overnamed, I'll just say that. You're pretty much looking at it. Nice place though.
This is the aforementioned sandbar that was only three feet deep. The island behind me was the closest piece of land. It was very...cool. (Man, I'm writing well today. Guess I can only be poetic once a trip.)
When people clean fish, the fish guts have to go somewhere. For good times and great entertainment, you can dump the guts in the water near the dock and have a party with these awesome guys. Hey, we have satellite, but we only get about three channels. This is about the most exciting thing we do around here.
I fly thousands of miles away from rural Illinois and I still can't get away from the farm animals. These are wild pigs that live on one of the islands. People bring stuff in their dinghys to feed them, so they're used to people. Here I'm feeding them bread. When they know you have stuff, they group up and run at you. It's actually really freaky. Strangely, someone left a bunch of cats on the same island, expecting them to survive. But they're not as fun to feed because cats are evil.
Here I am in Exhuma Park, an obviously beautiful place. Note the awesome new hat and sunglasses by Target. I live large, you all know that. Our days are filled with snorkel expeditions, beach visits, and not too much else. It's wonderfully relaxing...
EXCEPT WHEN A FOREST FIRE BREAKS OUT ON THE ISLAND!! Good Lord. It was Saturday and we were just sitting down to lunch when we saw plumes of black smoke coming from the south end of the island we were anchored off of. So we called it in to the Ranger Station and they said they weren't burning anything (they sometimes burn garbage), so we took the dinghy around to check it out...
...and were promptly put to work as volunteer firefighters. (That's me in the back, pulling hose. And no, that's not a euphemism.) While I pulled the hose and tended the pump, other people were bringing buckets of water and using shovels to make a firebreak. I mean, it's not like the Rangers were unprepared or anything - no, they had a few guys, a boat, a pump, and a not long enough hose with no nozzle. Totally ready for any disaster. At any rate, they eventually put out the raging inferno and we were on our way to the next adventure.
Why ARE there so many songs about rainbows? I think it's 'cause they're so pretty.
I have a couple days left on the boat, then it's back to Ft. Lauderdale for a few days with my awesome cousins. Then back to boring old Illinois and some stupid wedding, I guess...
Speaking of stupid people and their weddings, how are my new Sufjan Stevens CDs, brother?
Today was a good day.
Today I learned that Hurricane Emily thinks she's too punk rock for this latitude and is going way south of where we are.
Today I flew in a six-seat, double-prop plane to the Bahamas with a carton of strawberries behind me and a Jewish podiatrist in front of me.
Today I regularly saw boats that cost over a million dollars and didn't blink or even drool.
Today I watched about 10 nurse sharks gather by the dock in hopes of catching some fish guts from the worker cleaning fish.
Today I was very careful while walking on the dock.
Today I gave bread to wild pigs and gave looks to wild Spaniards.
Today I snorkeled and saw coral that looked like my brain and fish that looked like my screensaver.
Today I stood on a sand bar in the middle of the Caribbean. It was only three feet deep.
Today I shouted, "LET'S PLAY FUNNY/NOT FUNNY!!" just to see if anyone in the Bahamas likes Wonder Showzen.
Today I kept a running count of how many times I hit my head while walking inside the boat and only had to go to three.
Today I saw water so blue that I thanked God that there was a part of the world we haven't messed up yet.
Today I thought about guessing "Transatlanticism" because Track #5 has ba-bas, but I didn't.
Today I thought a lot about how things are and how things should be.
Today I didn't come to many conclusions.
Today...
Today I sighed as the boat gently rocked me to sleep and thought, "What will happen tomorrow?"
I've been up since 4:30 this morning. It's now midnight. This can mean only one thing: I'm on vacation.
I'm in my aunt and uncle's house in Boca Raton, FL right now. I'm hanging out with my two younger cousins, watching, at various points during this evening, parts of Anchorman, Dodgeball, Jumanji, and a lovely little piece of cinema from 1986 entitled The Manhattan Project.
It seems that my younger cousin, Quinn, has taken a fancy to TiVoing what he calls "cheesy 80's movies." Keep in mind that Quinn is 13 and by no means should be able to reference cheesy 80's movies. We were having a discussion about a particularly good one, Cloak and Dagger, when he dropped this line of the day:
"Do you remember any other cheesy 80's movies? Perhaps D.A.R.Y.L.?"
Yeah, my 13-year-old cousin referenced D.A.R.Y.L. You know, Data Analyzing Robotic Youth Lifeform, a lovely little gem from 1985. And he said perhaps. "Perhaps D.A.R.Y.L.?" I'm hoping the humor comes across, because I laughed for 2 minutes straight. At least.
I jump on a small cargo plane with a load of produce and maybe a few other passengers tomorrow on my way to the islands. I'll try to keep you updated on my adventures and maybe even some pictures of paradise, that is if we don't get an unwanted visit from Emily. I've already met a few forces of nature named Emily. I'd rather not meet another.
So let's talk for just a second about Summerfest: the self-proclaimed "largest music festival in the world." We weren't sure if they meant largest as in number of acts playing or attendance. After walking around for a little while, we guessed they actually meant largest as in square footage.
So we were walking around, just people-watching and mullet-hunting (which was frightfully easy). I recognized a Frag Doll, then felt really nerdy and fanboyish that I recognized a Frag Doll. Our journey eventually brought us to a truly magical place: the classic rock stage. There, we were fortunate enough to catch one of the most amazing musical acts ever to perform on this planet:
NIGHT RANGER
Oh, excuse me. I don't think I made myself entirely clear. What I really meant to say was:
Now imagine that logo on a giant backdrop onstage. Also, imagine about 800 mostly inebriated, mostly mulleted spectators in front of said stage. Finally, imagine that stage and all the people being rocked to the absolute core of their being. That's how amazing Night Ranger is.
Night Ranger, for those of you who aren't old enough to know, is pretty much the epitome of the 80's metal band that is still touring. They had a platform at the back of the stage - this is what Night Ranger uses because they're too old to climb on speakers. The bass player and two guitarists started the concert on the platform and rocked some opening chords before, not jumping down from the platform, but really just gingerly stepping down and running up to the mics. Remember, they're old.
Night Ranger songs basically consist of a verse, a chorus, then about 6-7 minutes of dueling guitar solos, then maybe another chorus to wrap up the song. And I'm not being facetious when I tell you that those solos were amazing. We only stayed for two songs, but I'm glad we got to see them.
(I make fun, but they were actually still really good...if you're a fan of 1980's melodic metal. And as any of my friends will tell you, I most certainly AM. Also, Night Ranger is really popular in Keri's family for some reason. Apparently, her sister checked out a CD from the library because she liked the name of the band, then ended up listening to it all summer because it was so funny. So there you go - Night Ranger, amazing music that spans generations.)
Anyway, we were really there to see Death Cab for Cutie, who were amazing. The show was really annoying because it was really crowded and we could tell that probably a third of the crowd was there because they saw the band play on "The O.C." We could tell because there was a huge reaction when they played their two "singles" but for anything else - crickets. At one point, I literally heard one girl ask, "Have they played any of the songs they played on 'The O.C.' yet?" to which her friend replied, "No." But at that point, they most certainly had. I'm sure I'm coming off really elitist right now, making fun of all the poseurs, but dang it, I liked them first.
Also annoying - the Summerfest setup. They have great stages set up with rows of metal, backless benches in front of them. This is great, because kids can sit down in between shows and still keep their spot. What would be even greater is if people didn't STAND ON THE FREAKING BENCHES DURING THE SHOW!!! We spent an hour staking out a spot behind the last row of benches, only to see our great view of the stage become a great view of rows and rows of butts. Normally, I wouldn't complain, but these were emo butts - good for crying, not for ogling.
Bottom line - we moved so we could see better and enjoyed a great show. Gibbard and crew played an encore of "Tiny Vessels" and "Transatlanticism" that absolutely made the show for me. Just amazing. So all's well that ends well.
The next day, we went to the zoo, which was a great time. I hadn't been to the zoo in a long time, and I forget how much fun it is. Especially the monkeys, who are always hilarious. We even got to see this special exhibit called "The Sting Ray Encounter," which is a great name for some reason. There was a shallow lagoon with a bunch of sting rays swimming around and you were invited to stick your hand in and touch them as they swam by. They kind of felt like a velour sweatsuit, which is strange, because I own one and never thought that it would feel like a sting ray.
After several aborted attempts, Keri finally worked up the courage to touch one. She did, for a split second, then squeeled and retracted the hand. Keri is a wuss. (I gave this bit its own paragraph to emphasize that point.)
That evening featured some head-to-head Dance Dance Revolution (which I have some surprising natural talent at), some eyeToy games (which I'm not good at, but am apparently really funny while I do it), and some Soul Caliber II. Let's see...did anything happen when we played that game? Let me think...oh yes, something of note did indeed happen. I believe I was crowned
SOUL CALIBER II GRAND CHAMPION OF THE UNIVERSE!!
And in grand fashion, too. I was Champion coming in and almost didn't want to play for fear of relinquishing that title, but Raph kept saying that he was on the phone during the arbitrarily decided "Championship Match" at the end of the semester. So it was decided that in order to be crowned Champion, you had to beat all three challengers in a row. (There were four people vying for the title.) We went back and forth for a while, then I hit a streak and had only one person to go: Raph. So it came down to what it always does: Mitsurugi vs. Talim. Strength vs. speed. 29-year-old samurai vs. 15-year-old wind priestess. The first two rounds were split and the third went down to the wire, but in the end, innocence (and awesomeness) prevailed. (I won.)
This may seem pretty inconsquential to most of you, but believe me when I say it is one of my proudest accomplishments to date. And Raph, I will brag about it until the day I die.
Okay, this post is way too long, but there's a reason: it might be all you get for a while. I'm leaving tomorrow to go visit my aunt, who is currently piloting her boat around Exhuma. Yeah, looks pretty rough, I know. We may get wireless Internet every so often when we're in port, but blogging may take a backseat to doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. So uh...have fun. I'll be back in 12 days or so.
Thanks, folks. You've been great. Enjoy Night Ranger.
Do you think that the people who get their rides pimped by MTV and X-to-the-Z are ever just like, "Hey West Coast Customs, did you ever think that maybe I wanted my trunk to just stay a trunk? I know my old car was kind of ghetto, but at least I could put stuff in the trunk."
The Iron & Wine cover of "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service (which can be found on the Garden State soundtrack) is now the soundtrack for an M&M commercial. This upsets me greatly, as I now have to find a new song for the first dance at my wedding reception, lest all my guests say, "Aww...they're dancing to the M&M song."
Hey, did you notice that there's a bunch of new links over dere on the side of the page dere? They're mostly for comics - both of the web and print variety. I recommend you read them all.
Finally, I'm continuing my jetsetting lifestyle with a trip to Milwaukee (which has certainly had its share of visitors) over the next few days. The point is mainly to visit a couple college friends, but we're using Summerfest and a Death Cab show as an excuse. (Just for the record, I liked Death Cab for Cutie before Seth Cohen said he did. And yet if you were to favorably compare me to Seth Cohen, you would be my new best friend. Strange.)
So I'll see you when I get back.
So last week, I was gone. I told you that. I realize I was a little sketchy on the details. "Volunteering at some junior high camp" was the most I could offer. This is for two reasons - #1, I try not to provide too much information on my whereabouts, lest the Internet stalkers get the best of me and #2, I really didn't know much more than that. Josh and Allyn roped me into helping out and God knows I wasn't doing anything, so I jumped on board. Let me attempt to explain, with visual assistance.
The one looking really stupid (in blue) is me. The one looking vaguely stupid (in green) is Josh. The one just looking jolly (in red) is Sandle, the organizer of this camp. The camp as it turns out, was the Junior High edition of Lake Springfield Christian Academy. But don't let the Academy part fool you - this is summer church camp at its finest. That means lessons, worship, campfire singalongs and all the gloriousness that goes with it. However, due to my aversion to anything serious, I'll be highlighting the silly adventures we had, rather than the important life-changing experiences. It's just what I do.
This is my family group. You can see me at the bottom of the pyramid. The girl at the bottom right was Jan, my co-leader. She was rad. I resisted making Brady Bunch jokes the entire week.
I was trying to remember the last time I was around large groups of junior highers. I determined that it's actually been since junior high. (I worked with freshman boys in Des Moines, which is close, but not quite.) They come with their own set of joys and frustrations. On one hand, they love you just for showing up and because you're older. You don't have to win them over like high school kids. One the other hand, they have the attention span and memory of goldfish and their voices haven't changed yet. Also, the majority of them were born around 1992. That meant my "Flock of Seagulls" references went right over their heads. (Which, to be fair, are only about 4 and a half feet off the ground.)
Turns out they're pretty gross too. This was a morning wake-up activity where we all had to chew gum and then sculpt it into something. Then, after showing our sculptures, one person from our group had to see how much of everyone else's gum they could chew again. Josh was that person for his group. I stood in the corner and gagged. The junior highers LOVE Josh.
This was another morning activity. A guy and a girl from each team went up - the girl covered the guy's face with shaving cream...
...then threw breakfast cereal at him...
...to see how much stuck to his face. Not sure what exactly this has to do with Jesus, but it was super-fun.
Another morning, kids had to put pantyhose over their faces and eat a banana. For some reason, this also kind of made me gag. I've determined that if I had to fill out a bio and there was a "I am good at" and a "I am bad at" section, my #1 thing would be "I am bad at...competitive eating." I just can't do it. That's why I can't go on Fear Factor. I would rock the stunts because as we all know, I'm extremely strong and athletic, but eating - no good.
Case in point - eating cheap imitation Froot Loops off the floor without using hands. I am TERRIBLE. That's not a marketable skill, is it? I don't want to be left behind in today's job market because I suck at competitive eating.
Here's something I DON'T suck at. Breaking it down - b-boy style. Oh yeah.
We did more than silly morning warm-ups. All the kids had two activity slots per afternoon and then free time. Here's the waterslide - a popular attraction during the unbelievably hot week. It was pretty sweet, unless you went Superman like this guy and totally overshot the nice cushiony mat - then you ended up a little bruised. But if you went to camp and didn't have to visit the nurse during the week, then you weren't trying hard enough.
You could go on a ride on the pontoon boat. But when Josh and his group did, it broke down 20 feet from the dock and they had to have the old dude row them in with their one paddle. If they had broken down in the middle of the lake, they would still be out there.
The pool was another very popular attraction. Some kids pretty much lived there. Note that the kids are still at the age in which pigtails are adorable.
Sometimes the kids just made their own fun. They're great like that. This little hoop originally laid on the ground and held basketballs. But then they figured out that kids could fit inside...
...and roll around. I just wish the guy was wearing knickers and rolling her down a dusty main street with a stick . Because...then we'd be in the Old West. And that's funny.
Allyn was a constant source of amusement and joy at camp, even though she left every day to go to work, like a loser. She's pretending to look surprised here, but really, she always looks surprised.
One night we had Water Olympics. Quite conveniently, it was located in the pool. You can't tell in this picture, but the kids are passing a greased watermelon down their lines. Josh and I carried the watermelons to the pool, which led to quite a few Dirty Dancing jokes. No kids were around, but it was just as well. They wouldn't have got it.
Here, the kids are chasing an estimated 250 goldfish around the pool and trying to catch them in their hands. Again, not sure what this has to do with Jesus, but it's really fun to watch.
No week at camp would be complete without a literal all-consuming fire. This one was so big that some embers would fly out and land on the first row of kids. That did have something to do with Jesus. I told those kids that God was trying to set them on fire because they didn't get quiet after Lights Out the night before.
Despite the stereotype, there was not a chorus of Kumbaya to be found. But there were lots of good times and hearts touched by the events of the week. Not to mention too many stories to even start to tell here. I'll just say that I'm now the lead singer of a 7th-grade band called "12-Gauge Heart" and leave it at that.
