Thursday, February 5, 2009
How to scare a scare crow
One of the hardest things ever to do is scare a scare crow. I tried dressing up like fire, but I was burned too badly by the time I got to the cornfield to do anything. But he could probably hear my screaming from a distance and that probably at least unsettled him a little.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Cash Prize Poll - Sponsored by FTWNAFBP
Please take the poll located at the right of the page. Fortunetellers of Western North America for Big Profits (or "FTWNAFBP") is offering high payouts for those found to be "touched by the rainbow's wisdom." If you select the right answer, you may win up to $5,000.* There is no cost to enter--unless you pay me of course, which I would be glad to accept if you need a tax write off (won't work) or less money in your bank account for some reason. Please do not delay. This offer will not last long (if it even exists at all).
*Cash prize is conditioned upon you independently buying your own scratch lotto ticket and winning. Odds of winning vary by each ticket as do cash prizes--thus the prize is stated as "up to" $5,000. If you buy a scratch ticket offering prizes of over $5,000, then it is possible to win more than $5,000. Again, this is only if you win, and you must buy your own ticket. Do not send me used scratch shavings.
*Cash prize is conditioned upon you independently buying your own scratch lotto ticket and winning. Odds of winning vary by each ticket as do cash prizes--thus the prize is stated as "up to" $5,000. If you buy a scratch ticket offering prizes of over $5,000, then it is possible to win more than $5,000. Again, this is only if you win, and you must buy your own ticket. Do not send me used scratch shavings.
Monday, January 5, 2009
2009 Goals
I thought it would be a clever idea to make 2,009 goals for the year 2009. However, I started to lose steam before I even reached 1,000. So, here are my goals for this upcoming year.
1. Invent the computer.
2. Talk to an astronaut, and not just on a prank call.
3. Defeat the rainbow, once and for all.
4. Learn French but never use it.
5. Tie a new kind of knot each day of the year.
6. Learn how to untie at least some of the knots.
7. Go on a strict "No Food or Drink" diet for over 1,000 hours. (this equates to around 3 hours a day, which I plan on doing from 2 - 5 a.m.
8. Go river rafting on the Sudan.
9. Memorize an entire book (Where's Waldo, Volume IV.)
10. Somehow save lots of money by eating left handed.
11. Don't blow all of the money I made by inventing the computer.
12. Stop wasting money on buying soda, gas, and reptile cages.
13. No T.V. on Labor Day.
14. Lose 35 or 3 pounds, whichever comes first.
15. Give away two phony scholarships.
16. Make a volcano go off.
17. Videotape a monkey performing surgery.
18. Buy a healthcare.
19. Never quit on any of my goals unless they get pretty hard (or boring, or I lose the list).
20. Sip lemonade at the tennis club with all the bigshots without crying because it's so sour.
21. Write a book (in the sand with a stick on a beach somewhere warm).
22. Sue anyone who says they invented the computer.
May all your goals magically come true this year.
1. Invent the computer.
2. Talk to an astronaut, and not just on a prank call.
3. Defeat the rainbow, once and for all.
4. Learn French but never use it.
5. Tie a new kind of knot each day of the year.
6. Learn how to untie at least some of the knots.
7. Go on a strict "No Food or Drink" diet for over 1,000 hours. (this equates to around 3 hours a day, which I plan on doing from 2 - 5 a.m.
8. Go river rafting on the Sudan.
9. Memorize an entire book (Where's Waldo, Volume IV.)
10. Somehow save lots of money by eating left handed.
11. Don't blow all of the money I made by inventing the computer.
12. Stop wasting money on buying soda, gas, and reptile cages.
13. No T.V. on Labor Day.
14. Lose 35 or 3 pounds, whichever comes first.
15. Give away two phony scholarships.
16. Make a volcano go off.
17. Videotape a monkey performing surgery.
18. Buy a healthcare.
19. Never quit on any of my goals unless they get pretty hard (or boring, or I lose the list).
20. Sip lemonade at the tennis club with all the bigshots without crying because it's so sour.
21. Write a book (in the sand with a stick on a beach somewhere warm).
22. Sue anyone who says they invented the computer.
May all your goals magically come true this year.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Santa Tracking Report
The latest report just came in. Santa ran into a little weather situation (mini tsunami) and is still flying over Indonesia.
The odds of him making it farther west than England is pretty grim.
Children in the Americas should be informed that although Christmas may be fruitless, all indicators are pointing to a big Easter.
More updates as they come in.
The odds of him making it farther west than England is pretty grim.
Children in the Americas should be informed that although Christmas may be fruitless, all indicators are pointing to a big Easter.
More updates as they come in.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
How to Land a Dream Job in a Down Economy
How to Land the Job of Your Dreams: The ultimate and fail safe job interview helps that are guaranteed to land you the job of your choice.
Rule number one: Always start by stating that you went to Harvard. That is impressive and will be your “in.”
Once you have your “in,” tell the interviewer something interesting about yourself, but avoid any funny stories of things you have done that may be considered “criminal activity.” If you cannot think of something interesting about yourself, think about something interesting that someone you know has done. (After all, we influence the people we know, so it is really more of a team effort.) For example, you may say “I was the first man to walk on the moon.” We all know who Neil Armstrong is, so no harm done. Plus, this is also impressive. Now you have two “ins.”
With two “ins”, it is pretty hard not to get the job. At this point, you are just trying not to blow it. Stay away from explosive topics like war, politics, religion, and especially political religious wars. Instead, try asking a few questions about the interviewer’s love life. You want to make things personal. The interviewer may act hesitant at first, but keep prodding. This is all part of the test. Keep the payoff in sight. If you develop a connection with the person, you will have sealed the deal. If you do not feel that immediate connection, try throwing in a few statements like “My favorite color is the same as yours.” Or “If you had your own business, I would definitely want to work there . . . forever . . . and ever . . . and ever . . . and ever. Continue the “and evers” until the interviewer breaks away from your piercing eye contact, even if this takes several minutes. He needs to know that you are sincere—to the grave and beyond sincere.
At this stage, the interviewer will probably go through a series of questions as a formality. Be prepared to answer questions about why all the phone numbers for your references are disconnected or no longer in use.
When asked about your prior work experience, be descriptive and use bold action verbs. Do not say “I babysat during the summer.” Instead, say “I engineered and developed state-of-the-art technology as regional director of the research and development department.” Such language will pique the interviewer’s interest. Employers want people with transferable skills. They are not looking for someone to babysit (unless it is a child care center—that is the only exception), they want someone to engineer and develop. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard employers say that.
Also, don’t wait too long to ask if the employer believes in some of the illnesses you think you may have. This would also be the time to ask detailed questions about the number of security cameras and guards they keep around the office. It is important to show interest in their business.
And most important, be prepared for anything. Bring a can of mace, a magic deck of cards, a jump rope, monopoly money, anything that might get you out of a tough question.
And finally, for a nice finishing touch to the interview, hand the interviewer a thank you card and ask him to write his name and his company’s name in the blanks. (You do not want to risk misspelling the names. It may give the impression that you are not thoughtful.) When he is done, ask to borrow a stamp, and then leave the thank you card on his desk. (This way, even if you do not get the job—hey, free stamp!)
Remember proper etiquette is to wait at least five minutes before calling to see if you got the job and to ask if you can get that first pay check advanced.
Enjoy many happy years in the job of your dreams.
Rule number one: Always start by stating that you went to Harvard. That is impressive and will be your “in.”
Once you have your “in,” tell the interviewer something interesting about yourself, but avoid any funny stories of things you have done that may be considered “criminal activity.” If you cannot think of something interesting about yourself, think about something interesting that someone you know has done. (After all, we influence the people we know, so it is really more of a team effort.) For example, you may say “I was the first man to walk on the moon.” We all know who Neil Armstrong is, so no harm done. Plus, this is also impressive. Now you have two “ins.”
With two “ins”, it is pretty hard not to get the job. At this point, you are just trying not to blow it. Stay away from explosive topics like war, politics, religion, and especially political religious wars. Instead, try asking a few questions about the interviewer’s love life. You want to make things personal. The interviewer may act hesitant at first, but keep prodding. This is all part of the test. Keep the payoff in sight. If you develop a connection with the person, you will have sealed the deal. If you do not feel that immediate connection, try throwing in a few statements like “My favorite color is the same as yours.” Or “If you had your own business, I would definitely want to work there . . . forever . . . and ever . . . and ever . . . and ever. Continue the “and evers” until the interviewer breaks away from your piercing eye contact, even if this takes several minutes. He needs to know that you are sincere—to the grave and beyond sincere.
At this stage, the interviewer will probably go through a series of questions as a formality. Be prepared to answer questions about why all the phone numbers for your references are disconnected or no longer in use.
When asked about your prior work experience, be descriptive and use bold action verbs. Do not say “I babysat during the summer.” Instead, say “I engineered and developed state-of-the-art technology as regional director of the research and development department.” Such language will pique the interviewer’s interest. Employers want people with transferable skills. They are not looking for someone to babysit (unless it is a child care center—that is the only exception), they want someone to engineer and develop. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard employers say that.
Also, don’t wait too long to ask if the employer believes in some of the illnesses you think you may have. This would also be the time to ask detailed questions about the number of security cameras and guards they keep around the office. It is important to show interest in their business.
And most important, be prepared for anything. Bring a can of mace, a magic deck of cards, a jump rope, monopoly money, anything that might get you out of a tough question.
And finally, for a nice finishing touch to the interview, hand the interviewer a thank you card and ask him to write his name and his company’s name in the blanks. (You do not want to risk misspelling the names. It may give the impression that you are not thoughtful.) When he is done, ask to borrow a stamp, and then leave the thank you card on his desk. (This way, even if you do not get the job—hey, free stamp!)
Remember proper etiquette is to wait at least five minutes before calling to see if you got the job and to ask if you can get that first pay check advanced.
Enjoy many happy years in the job of your dreams.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Editor position available
If anyone would like to be an associate editor for this blog, please e-mail me a one word resume.
Please do not send anything longer than one word. I have a very old computer.
Please do not send anything longer than one word. I have a very old computer.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Concession Post
Recently there has been a lot of buzz around the Internet about when I am going to update my newly transformed political blog. Obviously, that last post was less about politics than it was about Thanksgiving (or pilgrim chemicals or whatever it was about—I really couldn’t follow it). If you want to know the truth about the political blog—I had to shut it down.
It is with deep regret that I inform you that my political blog is no more. It turns out that what I considered “not bad,” many others with a background in politics considered “very, very bad, in a monumental way.”
Recent reports indicate that my one day of political blogging was the nation’s biggest disaster since the Fredericks Fiasco and more than likely caused the nation’s economic downturn. (For the novice, the Frederick’s Fiasco was when we elected Mr. Fredericks, who we later discovered was a scarecrow and then had to elect a new president right away. Actually, that may have been a cartoon. No matter now.)
The day after my political post, 15,700 people requested to have their citizenship revoked and moved to Canada (could anything really be that serious?). Experts claim it is linked to my blog, but I have my own theory (My theory involves a bunch of people, maybe 15,700 or so, who wanted their Citizen brand watches refurbished and also happened to be terrible typists.)
Over 600 legal immigrants pretended to have fraudulent social security numbers and voluntarily turned themselves in. Each handed the authorities a confession in feigned broken English citing to my website.
Additionally, almost 37% of those signed up to take the US Citizenship test no-showed. Again, everyone is blaming that on my blog, but I’ve yet to read any compelling evidence. (I’ve thrown all of the reports they sent straight into the garbage.)
So, I’ll go back to writing about highlighters, wind chimes, second-hand kung-fu moves, and other topics that affect people’s lives on a more meaningful and day-to-day level than mere politics. Besides, I really couldn’t think of any more ideas. I pretty much covered all I knew about politics in that one post.
This may come to a great surprise to anyone who has ever attended a social gathering with me, but I actually do not follow politics as closely as you probably supposed. Pretty much all I do at those gatherings is go up to people talking politics and throw in a couple of rehearsed phrases. I’ve found the following to work well in most all situations:
- “Our entire system is constitutionally constipated!” (throw down napkin and storm off)
- “Recount! Recount!” (can be repeated numerous times for great comedic effect)
- “typical intellectual mannequins” (said with a disgusted face)
- “Show me a candidate who will dye their green roots red, white, and blue, and I’ll bake him a presidential cake faster than you can say Secretary of State.” (force a tear, or if you’re no actor, gently poke your eye with a toothpick beforehand.)
I just throw those out at random. People really in those discussions are usually smart enough to somehow abstract something intellectually coherent out of the phrase. Man, they are really smart. I really should have had them write on my blog. Oh well, that ship has sunk.
So, Goodbye politics. I wish I could have gotten to know you a little better. I’ll try studying up again in 2012 on the drive over to the voting booths.
And lastly, to all of you who depended on my blog for your political insight these past few months (or one day, if you want to be technical), I wish you the best. As they say in politics (or in any situation really), “see ya’ around.”
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Trytophanian Thanksgiving
Trytophan—an el camino acid found in turkey that purportedly makes people tired.
Scientists have repeatedly asserted that the drowsiness frequently experienced on Thanksgiving can be attributed to the eating of a big meal and not specifically to eating turkey. Still there are some who continue to believe that eating turkey makes you tired. (See wikopedia – trytophaniacs). I’m with them. It’s true. I’ve experienced it. I offer a summary of my day’s happenings as living proof.
This morning I was in bed dreaming about turkeys, and I didn’t fully wake up until all the cleaning around the house was done and the real turkey was prepared and in the oven.
And then the smell of the turkey cooking made me so tired that I couldn’t even help set the table and prepare the side dishes that I insisted that no one else make but me. (I found a secret recipe on the back of an instant mashed potatoes box. Hint—add extra butter.)
I took one look at the giant Turkey balloon in the parade, and my eyes instantly glazed over and I couldn’t hear a single word of the things people were asking me to do, especially about vacuuming the living room or answering the door. You’d think by the way she went on that Aunt Gilda had never waited out in the freezing rain for ten minutes before.
Then came actually eating the turkey. I was so sleepy during the meal that there was no way I could fight back the belching—let alone say “excuse me Pilgrim,” as is the custom of the day.
Then after the turkey dinner, I barely had enough energy to ask someone to bring me a turkey sandwich, while I sprawled out on the couch watching the game. Truth be told, I couldn’t even stand up when my team scored a touchdown. I had to just raise my two hands above my head, then fold them back behind my head. I was asleep by the time the extra point went through.
I probably should not have had that last turkey sandwich. My drowsiness got so bad that I could not even control what I was saying or doing. There’s no way that I normally would have kept asking Aunt Gilda to loan my thirty-five dollars. And I certainly wouldn’t have slipped her a note that read: put the cash in my pie or a Pilgrim gets it. I had ancestors who were Pilgrims (or maybe it was pilferers—whichever is the one where they were the big hats with buckles on them and steal packs of gum from stores).
I was so tired from all that turkey that there was no way I could help with the dishes or even tell anyone that I had put my dirty plate under the couch because I was too sleepy to take it to the sink. It took all my energy to keep yelling to my wife from the kitchen to come join me and I would do the dishes later. Although, I think that last part was the turkey talking. I meant to say the dishes would get done later.
I usually stay too sleepy to help with the dishes for several months.
At one point my mother pulled me aside and said she needed to talk to me about something really important. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she drew me close. I could smell the turkey on her breath, and I was asleep by the time she could control her tears enough to start talking.
When saying goodbye to all of our guests I would have loved to have zipped up my fly, which I just noticed was down, but by then I was totally exhausted. All I could muster to do was give a half wave and mumble “gobble gobble.”
I didn’t even have the ambition to tell them to come again sometime or even to give Uncle John his coat back—even after he asked for it a couple of times. Give it a rest John. Man, give that guy some more turkey.
Before dozing off for my third nap, I thought about all the pilgrims and why they were so set on eating turkey all the time. Were they having trouble sleeping? Did they want their Native American guests to do the dishes? Was that really “so rude and embarrassing?”
Before crashing for the evening, I complained to my wife about the effects of all this turkey on my system. She said that she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in my behavior today. I guess maybe she wasn’t quite as sharp as usual; she did have a little turkey herself.
Well, when all is said and done, maybe I still haven’t convinced you of the effects of tryptophan. But at least, I can leave you all with this—the pilgrim’s Thanksgiving prayer:
A happy turkey to all, and to all a good gizzard. Gobble, gobble. Amen.
Scientists have repeatedly asserted that the drowsiness frequently experienced on Thanksgiving can be attributed to the eating of a big meal and not specifically to eating turkey. Still there are some who continue to believe that eating turkey makes you tired. (See wikopedia – trytophaniacs). I’m with them. It’s true. I’ve experienced it. I offer a summary of my day’s happenings as living proof.
This morning I was in bed dreaming about turkeys, and I didn’t fully wake up until all the cleaning around the house was done and the real turkey was prepared and in the oven.
And then the smell of the turkey cooking made me so tired that I couldn’t even help set the table and prepare the side dishes that I insisted that no one else make but me. (I found a secret recipe on the back of an instant mashed potatoes box. Hint—add extra butter.)
I took one look at the giant Turkey balloon in the parade, and my eyes instantly glazed over and I couldn’t hear a single word of the things people were asking me to do, especially about vacuuming the living room or answering the door. You’d think by the way she went on that Aunt Gilda had never waited out in the freezing rain for ten minutes before.
Then came actually eating the turkey. I was so sleepy during the meal that there was no way I could fight back the belching—let alone say “excuse me Pilgrim,” as is the custom of the day.
Then after the turkey dinner, I barely had enough energy to ask someone to bring me a turkey sandwich, while I sprawled out on the couch watching the game. Truth be told, I couldn’t even stand up when my team scored a touchdown. I had to just raise my two hands above my head, then fold them back behind my head. I was asleep by the time the extra point went through.
I probably should not have had that last turkey sandwich. My drowsiness got so bad that I could not even control what I was saying or doing. There’s no way that I normally would have kept asking Aunt Gilda to loan my thirty-five dollars. And I certainly wouldn’t have slipped her a note that read: put the cash in my pie or a Pilgrim gets it. I had ancestors who were Pilgrims (or maybe it was pilferers—whichever is the one where they were the big hats with buckles on them and steal packs of gum from stores).
I was so tired from all that turkey that there was no way I could help with the dishes or even tell anyone that I had put my dirty plate under the couch because I was too sleepy to take it to the sink. It took all my energy to keep yelling to my wife from the kitchen to come join me and I would do the dishes later. Although, I think that last part was the turkey talking. I meant to say the dishes would get done later.
I usually stay too sleepy to help with the dishes for several months.
At one point my mother pulled me aside and said she needed to talk to me about something really important. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she drew me close. I could smell the turkey on her breath, and I was asleep by the time she could control her tears enough to start talking.
When saying goodbye to all of our guests I would have loved to have zipped up my fly, which I just noticed was down, but by then I was totally exhausted. All I could muster to do was give a half wave and mumble “gobble gobble.”
I didn’t even have the ambition to tell them to come again sometime or even to give Uncle John his coat back—even after he asked for it a couple of times. Give it a rest John. Man, give that guy some more turkey.
Before dozing off for my third nap, I thought about all the pilgrims and why they were so set on eating turkey all the time. Were they having trouble sleeping? Did they want their Native American guests to do the dishes? Was that really “so rude and embarrassing?”
Before crashing for the evening, I complained to my wife about the effects of all this turkey on my system. She said that she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in my behavior today. I guess maybe she wasn’t quite as sharp as usual; she did have a little turkey herself.
Well, when all is said and done, maybe I still haven’t convinced you of the effects of tryptophan. But at least, I can leave you all with this—the pilgrim’s Thanksgiving prayer:
A happy turkey to all, and to all a good gizzard. Gobble, gobble. Amen.
Monday, November 10, 2008
I've Gone Political
I do not often delve into politics on this blog, but only because I don't know who any of the people are or take the time to find out what the issues are, not because I don't care.
In fact, I have had some really amazing experiences with the political process, even as recently as last week. When I went into the voting booth, a strong emotion swept over me as I realized something--I was in a telephone booth. It had been so long since I had seen one of them, I had forgotten what they looked like and got confused. It turns out that our state does mail in votes only. (The emotion that swept over me was embarrassment, which is somehow easy to mistake with voter's pride.)
By the way, I did end up filling out my ballot and mailed it overnight priority mail to that telephone booth. And that time, there was no mistaking the voter's pride of knowing that my vote counted.
So with that being said, I've elected to turn this blog into a political forum. Relax. I know what you're thinking. What's a white house? There's an "n" in government? You'll catch on. Thirty percent of the populus does. So please, E. pluribus your unum and be prepared to be moved politically.
In fact, I have had some really amazing experiences with the political process, even as recently as last week. When I went into the voting booth, a strong emotion swept over me as I realized something--I was in a telephone booth. It had been so long since I had seen one of them, I had forgotten what they looked like and got confused. It turns out that our state does mail in votes only. (The emotion that swept over me was embarrassment, which is somehow easy to mistake with voter's pride.)
By the way, I did end up filling out my ballot and mailed it overnight priority mail to that telephone booth. And that time, there was no mistaking the voter's pride of knowing that my vote counted.
So with that being said, I've elected to turn this blog into a political forum. Relax. I know what you're thinking. What's a white house? There's an "n" in government? You'll catch on. Thirty percent of the populus does. So please, E. pluribus your unum and be prepared to be moved politically.
History in the Making
We have recently witnessed an historic election--the first African American to be elected as president. I think we all share the feeling that a barrier has been broken. This is almost as big as when George W. Bush was elected president. That was the first time that a father and a son had both been elected President of the United States.
I remember after that election sitting in my room thinking. I sat there imagining all the young men, who upon their fathers being sworn into office must have thought, "well, so much for me being president." They never conceived that they would have a chance.
And why would they? It had never been done before. There were probably tens of young men throughout our country's history who feared for their parents going into politics, afraid that the oval office door would be closed on their future. From the first son of George Washington, a history of sons being shunned was shattered by George Jr.'s election.
As I was back then, I again am reminded of what a great place America is. It truly is the land of opportunity. -- Obama's daughter in 2032. Let's make history again.
I remember after that election sitting in my room thinking. I sat there imagining all the young men, who upon their fathers being sworn into office must have thought, "well, so much for me being president." They never conceived that they would have a chance.
And why would they? It had never been done before. There were probably tens of young men throughout our country's history who feared for their parents going into politics, afraid that the oval office door would be closed on their future. From the first son of George Washington, a history of sons being shunned was shattered by George Jr.'s election.
As I was back then, I again am reminded of what a great place America is. It truly is the land of opportunity. -- Obama's daughter in 2032. Let's make history again.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Missionary Memoirs
It has been three months and six days since the last anniversary of my coming home from my mission in Russia. In honor of this event, I have selected some random entries from my mission memoirs. Be enlightened, enlifted, and engulfed.
I had a hard time understanding anything people were saying. I felt like giving up. Then something happened. I came to a realization—somehow, I was wearing headphones. (I couldn’t remember putting them on, but sure enough they were there.) Once I took them off, I was able to understand every word that anyone ever said to me for my entire mission. (Russian was way easy.)
A whole bunch of Russians were gathered together saying things like “Man, what’s with this country? Let’s just push it into the Black Sea and start over. We can be something more modern, like Laser Astronautica.” That’s when I stepped in. I stood before the enormous crowd and said in my loudest voice “What’s going on? Are you guys talking about something?”* The group quickly slinked away. My inquiry was exactly what they needed to hear. I had saved Russia. And in doing so, I converted a kid (but that was months earlier in a different city).
* It turns out I had my headphones on again.
Another time I stopped to buy an ice cream cone, and I can’t remember exactly what happened, but somehow that ended up saving Russia, too. All in all, I must’ve saved that country around seven or eight times.
I remember frequently laughing and joking with another missionary on the bus until we couldn’t stop laughing. Our companions would always give us these looks like “Oh, here they go again” and “nothing good will ever come of this.” But you know what—we may never have taught anyone on any of those bus rides, but no one can say that we never missed our stop. That happened all the time.
Every week we’d play this game where we would fill out a sheet with numbers. You were supposed to write whatever numbers pop into your head and try to guess the week’s magic numbers, or something like that. I didn’t know all the rules. I usually just looked at everyone else’s numbers and then picked numbers just a little higher than the rest. No one ever told us who won, but a lot of people did tell me that my numbers were good.
One day on the way to a first appointment with a new street contact, I decided that I was going to stand up this contact. I pretended that I couldn’t read my own handwriting and went to a wrong address on the other side of town. I had my companion knock on the door as I tried to hold back my laughter. The door opened and there stood our contact. Apparently he had given us a wrong address. We all learned a very valuable lesson that day, but I can’t seem to remember what that was.
I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure—a mission is not just about learning dumb magic tricks and wearing funny ties. I was reminded of that all the time.
The Russian people were not easy to get to know. Often times, unless you had a leak or didn’t pay rent, you’d have to leave your apartment to even meet any Russian people. Of course, once you actually saw them, they were open and friendly. But again, that’s only after you left your apartment.
Life in Russia was unpredictable. My companion often remarked that he never knew what to expect from one day to the next. I guess I understand that. I mean, some days I wouldn’t even get on the bus; other days I’d follow my companion onto the bus and then jump out just as the doors were closing; and some days I’d really try to get on the bus but would miss the door, hit the side of the bus, and fall back into the ice-cream stand line (where I’d stay all day).
A lot of the missionaries would wear those big fur hats, but I always thought that looked silly. I just wore a plain black stocking cap. I kept my fur hat tucked in my coat and would pull it out to pretend that a beaver was attacking me.
In Russia, when it snowed, it really snowed. Not like around here. The snow in Russia would be white and would fall downward from way up in the sky. This may sound like snow here, but the snow in Russia was Russian white and fell from a Russian sky.
On a mission you always go by “Elder.” In fact, after a time, I honestly forgot what my first name actually was. And that happened around lunch time on my first day! And that was just the start. By the end of my mission, I had forgotten where I lived, what I thought tasted good, what words rhymed with jam, almost everything.
I will never forget the time I went to a discussion or some other meeting and taught some people a whole lot of things about some topic and how they did or did not accept it.
I had a hard time understanding anything people were saying. I felt like giving up. Then something happened. I came to a realization—somehow, I was wearing headphones. (I couldn’t remember putting them on, but sure enough they were there.) Once I took them off, I was able to understand every word that anyone ever said to me for my entire mission. (Russian was way easy.)
A whole bunch of Russians were gathered together saying things like “Man, what’s with this country? Let’s just push it into the Black Sea and start over. We can be something more modern, like Laser Astronautica.” That’s when I stepped in. I stood before the enormous crowd and said in my loudest voice “What’s going on? Are you guys talking about something?”* The group quickly slinked away. My inquiry was exactly what they needed to hear. I had saved Russia. And in doing so, I converted a kid (but that was months earlier in a different city).
* It turns out I had my headphones on again.
Another time I stopped to buy an ice cream cone, and I can’t remember exactly what happened, but somehow that ended up saving Russia, too. All in all, I must’ve saved that country around seven or eight times.
I remember frequently laughing and joking with another missionary on the bus until we couldn’t stop laughing. Our companions would always give us these looks like “Oh, here they go again” and “nothing good will ever come of this.” But you know what—we may never have taught anyone on any of those bus rides, but no one can say that we never missed our stop. That happened all the time.
Every week we’d play this game where we would fill out a sheet with numbers. You were supposed to write whatever numbers pop into your head and try to guess the week’s magic numbers, or something like that. I didn’t know all the rules. I usually just looked at everyone else’s numbers and then picked numbers just a little higher than the rest. No one ever told us who won, but a lot of people did tell me that my numbers were good.
One day on the way to a first appointment with a new street contact, I decided that I was going to stand up this contact. I pretended that I couldn’t read my own handwriting and went to a wrong address on the other side of town. I had my companion knock on the door as I tried to hold back my laughter. The door opened and there stood our contact. Apparently he had given us a wrong address. We all learned a very valuable lesson that day, but I can’t seem to remember what that was.
I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure—a mission is not just about learning dumb magic tricks and wearing funny ties. I was reminded of that all the time.
The Russian people were not easy to get to know. Often times, unless you had a leak or didn’t pay rent, you’d have to leave your apartment to even meet any Russian people. Of course, once you actually saw them, they were open and friendly. But again, that’s only after you left your apartment.
Life in Russia was unpredictable. My companion often remarked that he never knew what to expect from one day to the next. I guess I understand that. I mean, some days I wouldn’t even get on the bus; other days I’d follow my companion onto the bus and then jump out just as the doors were closing; and some days I’d really try to get on the bus but would miss the door, hit the side of the bus, and fall back into the ice-cream stand line (where I’d stay all day).
A lot of the missionaries would wear those big fur hats, but I always thought that looked silly. I just wore a plain black stocking cap. I kept my fur hat tucked in my coat and would pull it out to pretend that a beaver was attacking me.
In Russia, when it snowed, it really snowed. Not like around here. The snow in Russia would be white and would fall downward from way up in the sky. This may sound like snow here, but the snow in Russia was Russian white and fell from a Russian sky.
On a mission you always go by “Elder.” In fact, after a time, I honestly forgot what my first name actually was. And that happened around lunch time on my first day! And that was just the start. By the end of my mission, I had forgotten where I lived, what I thought tasted good, what words rhymed with jam, almost everything.
I will never forget the time I went to a discussion or some other meeting and taught some people a whole lot of things about some topic and how they did or did not accept it.
The waiting
I haven't posted in about three months. I took some time off to think, brush my teeth, and watch some T.V. I'm happy to say that I have decided to take a break from taking time off.
So now I give you the three month's worth of thinking (and brushing teeth and watching T.V.) that went into the following post:
I decided to go to the beach, but then I forgot about it and stayed in my room all summer. One time my brother came in and told me a joke, but I was actually asleep with my eyes open (I reached the point where my eyes had dried out from so much T.V. that my eyelids could no longer close. -side note-Try leading a social life without being able to wink--good luck.) The next day my brother asked me if I liked the joke, so I pretended to choke on a bite of orange to get out of answering. It would have been very convincing if I had really had an orange.
I hope that was worth the wait. (p.s. If my brother has told you a joke in the last few months, let me know if it was good. I'm sure it was the same one.)
So now I give you the three month's worth of thinking (and brushing teeth and watching T.V.) that went into the following post:
I decided to go to the beach, but then I forgot about it and stayed in my room all summer. One time my brother came in and told me a joke, but I was actually asleep with my eyes open (I reached the point where my eyes had dried out from so much T.V. that my eyelids could no longer close. -side note-Try leading a social life without being able to wink--good luck.) The next day my brother asked me if I liked the joke, so I pretended to choke on a bite of orange to get out of answering. It would have been very convincing if I had really had an orange.
I hope that was worth the wait. (p.s. If my brother has told you a joke in the last few months, let me know if it was good. I'm sure it was the same one.)
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Amateur Researchers World of Researching the World (ARWRW)
ARWRW members-- This week's research assignment:
Is trumpet a word? I believe so. All letters put together that are not numbers are words. Trumpet has letters together. Trumpet is not a number. I see no other alternatives—unless it is a noun. It could possibly be a noun. That gives us plenty to research for this week.
Is trumpet a word? I believe so. All letters put together that are not numbers are words. Trumpet has letters together. Trumpet is not a number. I see no other alternatives—unless it is a noun. It could possibly be a noun. That gives us plenty to research for this week.
Monday, June 9, 2008
DR Alice* -- Advice Column
(*DR stands for Don’s Relative, not necessarily “doctor” as many believe)
Dear Dr. Alice,
Most of the time I enjoy being with my in-laws. Meal times are the only exception. Whenever I look down to take a bite, my father-in-law shoots me in the face with a rubber band. He does this every time my wife and mother-in-law aren’t looking. He carries a rubber band ball made of hundreds of bands with him, and he can usually get in fifteen or more shots during a meal. I’m never sure what to do, so I merely smile and lightly nod to him each time he shoots me like I think it is a good joke.
We’re newly married and she really admires her father. I don’t want to rock the boat, but I am worried about getting my eye poked out. Do I say something? We have a dinner scheduled next week.
Bruised and Banded Husband
Dear BBH,
You may consider yourself silly to worry over this, but your concern is well founded. You may not realize this, but you use your eyes a lot more than you think—probably almost every day. If you really think about it, I bet you can scarcely go four or five hours without wanting to look at something. Many popular past-times such as reading, watching television, or even blinking all require at least one good eye. I fear that losing your vision would certainly prove to be a major inconvenience. Therefore, you should not feel like a big coward or baby because you are worried.
However, I think you would probably be crossing the line to talk to your wife about this. You have yet to lose even one eye, so to go on and on about losing your vision would seem a bit over-the-top. Plus, your mother-in-law would certainly think you were a big whiner. Although, you should not feel like that of course. But you cannot pretend to believe that others will not think that of you.
It is probably best for you to buy a nice pair of sunglasses—the kind used in sports, with the wrap around lenses would be best. This would preserve your eyes and prevent you from looking like a silly little girl in front of your in-laws. You could also try to buy him a pocket Tetris game. His hands would then be occupied and unable to inflict any more pain upon your face.
----
Dear Dr. Alice,
Sometimes I just get the feeling that people are watching me. I feel this most acutely when I’m making a speech or doing cartwheels in a crowded area. I just wish people would leave me alone and let me do what I want. If I want to stand in front of the T.V. and sing during everyone’s favorite show, so what? What’s the big deal? I’m just me.
ME
Dear ME,
Unfortunately, sometimes people can be cruel. Public speaking is extremely frightening. In certain polls, people actually reported fearing public speaking more than death (however, it should be noted that dying while giving a public speech was not an option). The only thing more frightening than public speaking would probably be public speaking at great heights. However, it sounds as if the people you have chosen to surround yourself with will not appreciate that. So, you have two options. Find an entirely new group of people to be around, or instead of singing in front of the T.V., just mouth the words of the actors on the show. Then there would be no cause for complaint.
Dear Dr. Alice,
Most of the time I enjoy being with my in-laws. Meal times are the only exception. Whenever I look down to take a bite, my father-in-law shoots me in the face with a rubber band. He does this every time my wife and mother-in-law aren’t looking. He carries a rubber band ball made of hundreds of bands with him, and he can usually get in fifteen or more shots during a meal. I’m never sure what to do, so I merely smile and lightly nod to him each time he shoots me like I think it is a good joke.
We’re newly married and she really admires her father. I don’t want to rock the boat, but I am worried about getting my eye poked out. Do I say something? We have a dinner scheduled next week.
Bruised and Banded Husband
Dear BBH,
You may consider yourself silly to worry over this, but your concern is well founded. You may not realize this, but you use your eyes a lot more than you think—probably almost every day. If you really think about it, I bet you can scarcely go four or five hours without wanting to look at something. Many popular past-times such as reading, watching television, or even blinking all require at least one good eye. I fear that losing your vision would certainly prove to be a major inconvenience. Therefore, you should not feel like a big coward or baby because you are worried.
However, I think you would probably be crossing the line to talk to your wife about this. You have yet to lose even one eye, so to go on and on about losing your vision would seem a bit over-the-top. Plus, your mother-in-law would certainly think you were a big whiner. Although, you should not feel like that of course. But you cannot pretend to believe that others will not think that of you.
It is probably best for you to buy a nice pair of sunglasses—the kind used in sports, with the wrap around lenses would be best. This would preserve your eyes and prevent you from looking like a silly little girl in front of your in-laws. You could also try to buy him a pocket Tetris game. His hands would then be occupied and unable to inflict any more pain upon your face.
----
Dear Dr. Alice,
Sometimes I just get the feeling that people are watching me. I feel this most acutely when I’m making a speech or doing cartwheels in a crowded area. I just wish people would leave me alone and let me do what I want. If I want to stand in front of the T.V. and sing during everyone’s favorite show, so what? What’s the big deal? I’m just me.
ME
Dear ME,
Unfortunately, sometimes people can be cruel. Public speaking is extremely frightening. In certain polls, people actually reported fearing public speaking more than death (however, it should be noted that dying while giving a public speech was not an option). The only thing more frightening than public speaking would probably be public speaking at great heights. However, it sounds as if the people you have chosen to surround yourself with will not appreciate that. So, you have two options. Find an entirely new group of people to be around, or instead of singing in front of the T.V., just mouth the words of the actors on the show. Then there would be no cause for complaint.
Monday, June 2, 2008
The Ol' Fishin' Hole
One day I decided to let Tommy in on my secret fishing hole. We were at lunch between classes, when I told him that I was done learning for the day, and that he could come along for some real education. Tommy took the bait, and we spent the rest of the afternoon lying on our backs looking up at the clouds and fishing. The next day I noticed Tommy wasn’t in class again. At lunch I took off to the fishing hole. And just as I had expected, there was Tommy. “I’ve created a monster,” I declared. Tommy looked up at me and then spread his wings and flew right at me. I was able to duck from his fangs just in time. I grabbed a broken tree branch lying on the ground and when Tommy came circling around, I used it to crack one of his wings. He fell to the ground and I finished him off with a big rock. After that experience, fishing always seemed kind of boring to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)