Patches

How sweet would this be? Patches the Horse

Skiing, Falling, Screaming, and "Wipples"

This weekend, we had our annual ski trip to Perfect North Slopes, aka "PNS" (don't say that five times fast. Okay, do. Haha, I'm in fifth grade again. Wanna join the Pen 15 club?). We had an awesome time, and although we probably deserved it, nobody broke any bones. There were times when it would snow really hard, and the wind would almost blow it straight up from the ground. It was truly beautiful. Ice had frozen thick on the sides of some of the trees, and I thought for sure that they would snap and fall on the lift cables. Good thing that never happened either.

One time on the lift, we saw this guy take a really hard fall. He was on a steep hill and couldn't stop sliding all the way down. The best part was that he was screaming bloody murder the whole way. It was hilarious. He was sliding in slow motion, and could have easily stopped himself, but he just kept screaming like he was about to die. We were cracking up. We decided that skiing would be a lot more entertaining if everyone screamed like that when they fell, instead of trying to play it off. Then this morning on my way to work, I saw a business-lady trip on her own two feet. I thought how much more interesting life would be if we all had to scream like that whenever we tripped or anything. It would be a lot funnier for the people who witness it, and might even make it less embarassing. So the next time you trip or fall or anything, just scream like your life depended on it. It'll make for a memorable day.

Anyways, one of the highlights on the trip came when we were driving home. We decided to stop at a random southern Indiana town to find a beer and burger joint. We chose the small town of Sunman, just off of I-74. I started having flashbacks of every horror movie I've seen where the young college kids wander into some small hick-town, with residents who all hold the secret of some freak family that likes to dismember strangers who come wandering in for beer and burgers.

The first place we saw was Wheel's Pizza. We weren't in the mood for pizza, but thought they might be able to direct us to the nearest burger joint (with beer). So after doing a half-donut in their parking lot, so that everyone stares out the window and the owner calls the local deputy, AJ went in to ask directions. He said that after asking them where he should go, some lady in the back of the restaurant had one word for him: "Wipples." "Wipples?" he asked. "Yeah, you want to go to Wipples." Okay.

So we got directions for Wipples and headed into town. Sunman actually seemed like a nice quaint little town, with a small but cozy downtown area, complete with bars and grills and Wipples. We found Wipples without any trouble, and decided to venture in. Unfortunately, nothing exciting happened and we weren't chased by chainsaw-wielding maniacs, which would've made for an incredible blog-post. Instead we found that they had already sent the cook home, so we couldn't get any burgers. They recommended that we try going across the street to "Tha Store Cafe."

"Tha Store Cafe" (and no, that's not a typo) is home to "Louie's Place: Bar and Grill." At last we had found what we were looking for. We sat amongst the heart and soul of America's Midwest: drunks, tramps, waiters, veterans, and bartenders. They served us the best bowl of slaw I've ever eaten. My burger and fries were also delicious, and the ambience was not lacking either. We drank pitchers of beer and smoked old Swishers while heart-pounding Rock and soul-piercing Country blazed out of the jukebox right behind us. We were surrounded by cigarette smoke, bourbon, and a big black tube of "Ass-Lube." It's best not to ask about that one.

It was a great trip, and hopefully we can make it an anal...excuse me, annual tradition. For the few of you who read this, I have a question for you: What do you think "Wipples" stands for? We asked ourselves this question, and I forget what all we came up with. Now I'm thinking maybe it's a new Muppet character or something. What do you think?

Dolls are the SCARIEST!! (by far)

I've decided to complete my session on the scariest things in the world. Number three on this list doesn't really count, so really these are the three things that scare me the most:
1) Dolls
2) Clowns
3) Pictures of dolls and clowns
4) Old ladies
5) Scariest things on the internet

Now, you may think that I'm just doing this to make a funny post or whatever, and that is partly true. But I genuinely don't like dolls. They seriously scare me, and if I was in a room with me and a bunch of dolls, I really would feel scared and uncomfortable. It's not like a mortal fear of them or something-- I once worked with a girl who had a true phobia of "little people." She said she couldn't even watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory because of the Ooompa Loompas.
I thought she was just joking, until a little person came into work, and she seriously started having trouble breathing and stuff. She was frightened.

So when I say I'm scared of dolls, I guess it's not that bad. But this isn't just a joke either.

According to The Indexed Phobia List, the fear of dolls is called, "Pediophobia;" which is really close to pedophile, so be careful how you use it. Now we need to get more specific about which dolls I'm talking about, or rather which dolls I'm not talking about.

I'm not talking about Barbie Dolls,
(although this one's pretty scary) because Barbies aren't really dolls anyway. There more of a figurine. Like a G.I. Joe or something.

And I'm not talking about Cabbage Patch Dolls either,
(although this one's pretty scary) because Cabbage Patch Dolls are more like stuffed animals.

The dolls I'm talking about are the little ones that young girls have and like to use for tea parties and dress up games. Or the ones where the little eyelids go up and down.

Now those are freaking scary. I have always been scared of stuff like that. Even when I was a kid. I wonder where that comes from?

I don't see how people can sleep with dolls in their room either. Seriously, those of you who do or did, how were you not scared? I would still wet my bed if I woke up every morning with this staring at me:

I think it is something about the eyes. They're watching me. Maybe that's it. Maybe I don't like to be looked at. With their beady blank stares. Never blinking, unless you're a Chatty Cathy doll. Was it the Chatty Cathy doll that blinked? Blinking's even worse than a blank stare. And it's always girl dolls. Although here's a scary boy doll:


I guess that's all I really have to say about that. I hope I don't have a girl when I'm married, cause I don't know if I could let her have dolls in the house. And that's not a joke. Am I alone on this, or is it not true that dolls are scary? There's just something about them. Here's some more scary dolls, and a link to the scariest page full of scary dolls. Have fun.


Scary Site

Scariest things on the internet

Some People are Just Assholes

Well, I had a really good weekend: the Colts spanked Denver, I'm almost finished moving, I got to play some poker again, and guys group was great as always. But something stupid happened, and I was surprised to find out how upset I got for like twenty seconds.

Saturday morning we got like three inches of wet snow here in Indy. It really was incredibly beautiful, because the snow found a way to stick to every branch and fence and telephone wire. So everything was covered in white, and it just looked awesome.

Well, I went out to shovel the walk, and was amazed at how well the snow was sticking together. It would've been perfect for a snowball fight, but since I was by myself, I decided to make a snowman. This is something I haven't done in a long time, and the snow was just perfect for it. So it took about a half-hour to built a five foot snowman. By the time I was through, I was too tired to bother giving him a carrot nose, or coal eyes, or a hat. But I was still proud of my creation.

So anyways, he was still standing guard in the front yard Sunday morning when I left for church. But as I made my way home, I could tell from half a block away that something had gone terribly wrong. It was warming up and the snow was melting, but I knew ol' Frosty was big enough to last through at least another day. So I wondered why I couldn't see him standing there anymore. When I got closer, I saw his frozen, molested body lying helpless on the ground.

He was still intact, but had fallen over backwards. At first I thought that maybe he was just a little top-heavy and had fallen down. But as I leaned in close to whisper a few parting words, I noticed a size twelve footprint imbedded into his chest. I couldn't believe it. What kind of sick man (because it was a large foot) kicks a snowman down? And why? How in the world could a snowman offend someone to the point where they feel that it must be destroyed? He didn't do anything wrong. And who doesn't like to see a snowman in a yard? I finally realized that some people are just assholes and do stuff like that because they have small penises.

Then my thirty seconds of anger was up, and I just kind of laughed at the whole situation and at myself for having gotten upset at it. I can always make another snowman. I guess that guy can always get some Enzyte.

Life in the D.R.

As you all now know, my girlfriend is living in the Dominican Republic for a while to learn (aprender) espanol. Does anyone know how to make the cool squiggly line over the "n" in espanol? So I'm stuck at home with all the time in the world, trying not to worry about her.

The first news I heard was that they (her and a friend who is also studying in the D.R., but at a different city and program) had arrived safely, but that Anna (the friend) didn't have her luggage. Also that every guy was hitting on them. Needless to say, I was comforted and worry-free with this news. Dud. I felt so helpless. It sucks. But they really were okay. I'm sure like any country, there are plenty of beautiful things there... but unfortunately the city they are in is not one of them. I guess it was really dirty, and their hotel had bugs in it, and hair in the showers and stuff. Ah, the things we take for granted.

Then there's the whole guys hitting on them thing. I'm glad she grew up in my neighborhood, where it's common for an attractive girl (or anything that has two of something resembling a breast) to be ogled at by men (or anyone standing within ten miles of the local Village Pantry). So she's used to having guys yell at her or whatever. Here's what she said in an email:

"we are OUTCASTS!!!...this morning we just walked around the
streets by our hotel for two hours and i'm not
kidding, AT LEAST every other guy said something to
us, yells, hisses at us, honks, everything@!!!!"

So once again, I was comforted to hear how well things were going. She also said that the Dominican Spanish dialect removes the "s" from words. So they would pronounce "gracias," as "gracia." That's weird, and I guess it's hard for her to get used to.

It's hard for me to get used to people hissing at my girlfriend. Seriously, who hisses? She said it happens a lot. I guess they feel deprived from not being able to say "s" in their words, so they bottled it all up and it finally explodes in a series of hisses. Whatever. I'm glad I'm American. And a guy. I've never heard of a girl hissing at a guy. I think I would freak out.

--I found this cool Spanish/English dictionary site--

"Time: You Ain't No Friend of Mine"

Time is a strange, strange thing. It's man made, which is very odd to me. It seems like something as important as time should have already had a system made up for itself. And I guess it did, what with seasons and all.

But really, I don't know that time works in the way we would like it to. I mean, I can count off seconds, and that means that so many "seconds" have passed. And that means that something has changed with the relation of the earth to the sun or moon or something or other, or however we made up "time." But time in my life just isn't that cut and dry.

I guess I should just get to the point, which has to do with my girlfriend leaving for four months. She left last Friday, so last week was our "last" week together. We tried to spend time doing things we love to do together: Ms.Pacman, piano, Yats, Rhonda's Custard, walks, talks, and just generally being around each other. That week just flew by. Seriously, it was like I blinked and all of a sudden she's off through security at the airport. And the second she went through that metal detector, time just started slowing waaaaaaaaaay down.

This last week has felt so long. It sucks missing someone, and having no control over their safety and having to trust completely in them and in God that they will be safe. As if I have any control over that stuff anyways. But there's something about her being so far away that makes it worse. So the days just kind of slug along, and it's hard to say why.

And I'm not sure that it's a bad thing either. Usually when people talk about a long day, it's negative. Why is that? Why do bad days seem to take longer than good days? And why is it that when you're really doing something you love, time just ceases to exist? Sometimes when I'm playing piano, I have no sense of time and it's like I'm in some other world. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure everyone has this experience with something. It happens when you're having a good conversation with a friend, or maybe eating a nice bowl of Rhonda's Frozen Custard.

The other thing that makes time messed up, is that not everyone dies at the same age. So if I die when I'm thirty, and someone else dies at sixty, then one day in my life is a larger percentage of "day" for me, than the sixty year old. Each year is a thirtieth of my life, but a sixtieth of the other guy's. So how is it fair for us to use the same measure of "time?"

And as we get older, it would make sense that the days would seem like less and less. For instance, when you're one year old- that year should feel like forever, because it has been forever. But then when you're ten, that same year doesn't feel so long, because it's only a tenth of your life. So by the time you're ninety, a day is like nothing.

But not every day feels like that. Not every day is shorter than the one before it. Why not? Why can some days feel so long, and others just fly by. Especially when we know that the same amoount of minutes and seconds are in each day. Which is why it makes sense that after we die, we will all live forever. And all moments will be the same one, because there will be no measure of change. We'll all be who we are and everything will already be what it is, and time will become useless. Or maybe not. Who knows.

These are all rhetorical questions by the way, and I'm sorry if you've struggled to make sense of any of this. I'm not really trying to make sense, just rambling along here. The point of it all is that I miss my girlfriend. That's all.

2004: A Blog's Beginnings

There are a ton of things I want to blog about right now, but I'm not going to have the time. So for now, I'm going to list a few of my favorite posts from this site in 2004. These are posts that I think of as must reads for this site. Well, maybe not a must read, but hopefully they're entertaining. I got this great idea from Nominal Me.

"Sun Dogs, Kermit, and the Rainbow Connection"- This post is about sun dogs. If you don't know what a sun dog is, you should definitely find out. It's worth it just to see the picture here.

"And Thirty-Four Cent"- This post is about what we can all learn from the homeless and needy in our society.

"Annoying Co-workers!!!"- This post is good if you have an annoying co-worker, and you want to know you're not alone.

"Hairy Men: Cheer it, or Shear it?"- Find out if it's kosher for men to shave in places below the neck.

"It's like wiping before you poop...It don't make no sense."- There's more than one way to skin a cat.

"It's Yo Balls!"- A day in the life of a public school substitute teacher.

Miscarriages and Abortions- A more serious post on said topic.

Scary Old Ladies and Scary Clowns- Two of the scariest things alive.