This Girl is on FIRE!!!

What if I got rid of all my bookface friends except those that I really care about? I'd get down to like ten people... then I wouldn't have to scroll through all the career updaters and fluff, and I also wouldn't get all those SimCity Social and Chefville invites.
I've even thought of getting rid of Facebook altogether at times. These industries that pretty much make their money by the packaging and manipulation of information are often terribly leftist, and frankly I don't do anything but waste time with it and get increasingly bitter as everyone else and their dog gets engaged. But then I realized that facebook has now become an important medium for social events and organizations--important enough the local ward uses it for the written announcements of activites (cause I'm never paying enough attention for the oral ones on Sunday). And then friends sometimes post these things on your account which makes your day or your week or your summer or your life. And then you sometimes find those memes of Harry Potter or Toby McGuire Peter Parker which are worth many good minutes of laughter.

Some funny things I discovered through people sharing on Facebook:
Guy on a Buffalo
Staring Contest of Sasquatch vs. Brian Wilson
College Humor Batman meets the Riddler
Toddrick Hall (cool name) Beauty and the Beat
Rainbow Dash vs. Starscream

And the cats... oh the cats.

As for myself, my facebook only gets updates about sports and elections. I feel like that guy sitting across the table from his amazing girlfriend who calls him boring so he has to go to an Alicia Keys concert to feel better about himself.
No wait, I'm WAY more boring than that guy. I mean, Mormons are nothing but boring white people, right? Throw in professionalism and people start expecting consistency from you all the time, so life gets repetitive and mundane. This is who I am now.

NEXT TIME ON LIFE OF A REGULAR GUY

Will Todd opt for something other than frozen burritos for breakfast? Probably not... but find out next week... or rather, next time he has a large chunk of late Wednesday or Friday time when there's nothing good on TV.

And the Good New Is... For Someone Else.

Let me say first of all that I have no room to politically rant, so this will be the one and only such post of its kind. I didn't vote. Due to poor planning on my part, my absentee ballot would have had to have been applied for before I headed east, but I dropped the ball there and felt horrible about it. I have never been more invested in an election, and I've never lost more sleep about it.

Of course, I guess my feelings of utter dismay are just selfish. When I think about how my life and the lives of most of the decent people I know have been economically worsened over the last four years, I'm not thinking about so many others who were genetically incapable of self-reliance. There is an entire culture--a growing one at that--who are blessed by medicare handouts and other types of government give-aways (not to mention the emotional stimulus of change and hope and egalitarianism and revenge), and just because I'm not a part of that festering tumor on American society doesn't mean I should get upset with America. Sure, that whole demographic that put Obama in power contributes a lot to society. They are producers of a lot of things, like excuses and blame and demands. Without them, how would the majority-ish of America feel good about their miserable lives? Now they can all sit back and wait for the nation to change to fit their lifestyle. Now they don't have to change a thing about who they choose to be because with Obama and his four more years of change and hope and revenge, etc., happiness is gonna just land on their doorstep.

And if it does, let me assure you, I will be pleasantly surprised. If my life or the lives of most decent people I know are made better by the fiscal policies in the next four years of the reign of collectivism, I would be pleasantly and extremely surprised. But since patterns of human behavior are resistant to change without the Spirit of God, I am going to prepare for worse things. I would love to be pleasantly surprised, but until that happens, I have one question for America:

Who is John Galt?

Is it Beiber or Bieber? Or Idiot-Face?

A couple of years ago, I watched that Justin Beiber movie called "Never Say Never" or something like that. Yup, I watched a movie about Justin Beiber. Here's my conclusion--get ready for a bunch of unfounded superlatives.

Justin Beiber has talent, but it sure as heck ain't singin or playing instruments. The kid has amazing rhythm. Rhythm is a very difficult word to spell. Justin Beiber should be a drummer for some garage band, not a teenage idol sensation. Of course, he could be yesterday's news by the time I'm writing this. Teeny-bopper culture tends to be very faddish.

He certainly reaffirms one thing. The music industry these days is not about talent. If you want to get in on talent alone, you have to be Bono-esque or Hendrix-esque or Susan Boyle-esque, and there are precious few on this planet that reach those levels. Another way is to introduce something new and so repulsive to the older generation that it becomes quite endearing to the younger generation, like the Beatles.

Nowadays, if you have the slightest shred of  talent and/or sex appeal, throw in the right connections and extreme luck and you're there. Beiber was lucky enough to somehow ride the rising internet video sensation into Usher's lap, becoming a marketing campaign for someone who wanted to stretch their celebrity wings.

What brought this up, you ask? Well, I was watching NBC the other day and they had a preview of this Two and Half Men show that Miley Cyrus was making an appearance on. I wondered how it was that this world ever let her get poplar. Then I thought about how much I despise Bieber... bless his heart.

So, The Other Day...

I went to a Taco Bell and bought 4 dollars worth of food... I had an early breakfast, ok? Anyways, the lady asks if I want to donate a dollar to world hunger. I says, "Lady, I just donated four dollars to world hunger."

I took my food and walked to my car. Since it was Taco Bell, after I ate it I felt kinda bad. It may have been gas, but it might have been conscience. As such, next time I'll donate SIX dollars! Six crunchy potato soft tacos!

Boring Details About Life

So I woke up this morning in Atlanta. Why? Long story short, I am here for more work. Short story long, that work includes helping out a certain acquaintance of mine whose name may make you think he once ran the executive branch of the United State.

Anyways, the weather is real nice outside. I can even feel the wind at times... maybe I'll stay for a bit.

A Mostly True Story

I'm at home all by myself this week.

I was eating green beans for dinner and then I was like, "Wait a minute... what am I doing?" So I fed the veggies to the cat.
The cat barfed em up. I started cleanin the barf until I was like, "Wait a minute... what am I doing?" I left the barf and went and watched some TV.
I stepped in the barf later on and started getting ready to go take a shower and then I was like, "Wait a minute... what am I doing?" I went to Taco Bell instead.
I was getting ready to pay for my 5 dollar meal with my debit card until I was like, "Wait a minute... what am I doing?" I used mom and dad's credit card.
I went to the bathroom to dispose of said Taco Bell and started to close the door until I was like, "Wait a minute... what am I doing?" I left the door wide freakin open and sang at the top of my lungs while doing my business.
As if it isn't gross enough yet, I started putting clothes on in the morning and I was like, "Wait a minute..."



Ok, in all honesty, the only true part is the home by myself and the eating of green beans. I mean, come on... did you seriously believe any of this? There's NO WAY a cat would ever eat green beans... psssshhhhh.

Concerning byurejects.com

Sometimes I wonder if BYU football consists of a majority of nice guys who can't handle the emotions of a rivalry game.
For the last ten--no, eleven years now--BYU has gone 3-8 in this "Holy War." Granted, most of the losses were nail-biting disappointments, but there have been some colon blow-outs in there too. And then BYU's wins have come down to the last play every time. Why can't we just put those guys away?
Well, look at how nerves play a factor, particularly with last night. BYU was so out-of-sinc that Bronco is gonna go to church today and then preach hellfire and damnation tomorrow... if he's the kind of coach to do that... After about a million false starts and that QB/Center miscue that gave the Utes that TD--and consequently the game--one really has to wonder: Where has the discipline gone? For a team that has players who generally have two extra years of life experience under their belt, it seems like we have real problems in avoiding the flags and turnovers. This seems especially the case amidst a hostile crowd.
So, I could say something nasty here about hating the Utes and how I'd take football losses over overwhelming jack-mormonism and stuff, but I won't (except I just did). It's not entirely true, after all... not entirely.
And Kyle Van Noy is a professional. There's a guy who doesn't freak out after every one of his tackles in the backfield. You won't see any flags on him for unsportsmanlike conduct (knock on wood). Maybe he learned a thing or two from Jimmer.

I Had a Dream that Movies Could Be...

How come people put Anne Hatheway in good movies*? Ugggghhhh...

Also, I heard the phrase "YOLO" on the radio recently. I haven't heard any kids say it in real life yet... that goes to show just how removed and reclusive I've been for the last year or so. Anyways, how about YOLFESDSUN instead--a counter-culture, if you will.

YOU ONLY LIVE FOR ETERNITY SO DON'T SCREW UP NOW!

Some of you may be wondering why the blogging has become so scarce nowadays. I used to be so long-winded about the most trivial of things... but now, it's like I post every other month about sports or politics or other such dumb things. And now I'm beginning to wonder if I have already addressed this topic before... 

Well, just so you know, the reason for the waning of nonsensical electronic writings is not SOLELY because life has become more routine and therefore blasé. It's also because I'm simply growing up... finally! Not all the way, I assure you--but to the point where life isn't all about doing funny things for other people to giggle about while reading your blog. I could bore you on details about my job or about plans for the future or about an irregular dating life, but where's the fun in that? When my blog starts reading like an objective newspaper column, than it has fulfilled its purpose and will shortly thereafter be terminated from everyone's memory banks. Yup. I can do that. 

Ultimately I've been on a big Les Mis kick lately--not because of the new movie but because I am reading the book--and I just had to vent my frustrations on Hatheway mucking up what could be the best movie since Balto 3. 

"...So Different from this CRAP I'm Watching!"

*This is mainly referring to the new Les Miserables movie and The Dark Knight Rises. Not included in this generalization--Devil Wears Prada, Get Smart, Princess Diarreahs (1 or 2), Elle Enchanted.

Save It Mapel!!

So Dwight went to L.A. in a four team trade that didn't involve the Rockets... sigh...

I mean, I wasn't holding out for the Big Drama to come to Houston in the first place, but I was hoping we might land Bynum or something in the crossfire...
And that's how it all adds up for next season. I guess we get to watch Jeremy Lin, right?

Here's to the Houston Texans! It's a good thing they don't suck too!

I mean, what would we do in this town if it wasn't for football? Watch baseball? Maybe some local little league but not the Lastros, Disastros, the Come-On-Over-And-Kick-Our-Astros.

You ever seen that movie, Astros in the Outfield? "Cause we can't win--that would be a sin! We even lose the games before they begin!"

Pssshh... Go Tigers.

You know what I love about the Olympics? Lebron plays for my team. 

In the meantime, there have been some things going on that are not related to sports. Actually, some pretty big things... but I don't like to blog about this stuff until it's written in stone by the very finger of Todd himself. THAT was borderline blasphemous... sorry! Also, sorry for the kind-of-swear earlier in this post... and for the straight up swearing in the linked video. I'm a go repent now.

The Things I See That Other People Post About

This one actually took me a while to understand.

It's Not About Basketball

Here comes another sports post, for what it's worth:
What's so bad about Houston? Sure it gets really freakin hot and the closest beach you have is the bad side of the Gulf of Mexico... but it's the fourth largest city in the U.S., right? As such, it should be the fourth most bangin city, right? The economy is real good here too, especially since we're like the hub of the oil and gas industry of the U.S.

So what's the big hold-up Dwight?

Here's a hypothetical: If Dwight was cool with playing in Clutch City, would a deal have already been inked? Do the Lakers really have a better package to offer Orlando than the Rockets? I mean, outside of Andrew Bynum, it's a pretty crusty line-up there... 

I guess it's more about what's cool and hip since these diva players can't see past the end of their own freaking noses when it comes to finance. I'm pretty sure the first thing that goes through their mind in free agency is, "Would that be a place I would vacation to?" 

The only other motivation I can see is title contention, and yes you've got a better shot in L.A. than in Houston... at least for maybe another year and a half. What happens when Kobe retires... or even bigger, when Pau or Bynum get fed up playing the part of dangling bate (even though they are the more integral parts of the team)? Have fun settling for a future of mediocrity in a state better known for bankruptcy than anything else.

And you know, I used to think Dwight was awesomer for not sporting any tats or saying publicly that he doesn't drink and having a room in his house just for Wii-related activities. I used to like how he didn't get so mean on the court that he had to punch people or talk politically incorrect garbage to opponents who are unable to grow hair. But that's all in the past. Dwightmare is the present. And he's probably the future too. 

Now, concerning Lebron... dot, dot, dot.

It is highly unlikely that superstars have not contemplated forming some sort of year round all-star team via free agency throughout the ages of basketball. Players have had at least some say over their destination--at least in their caliber of play (example: Pippen on the Rockets)--back then just like they do now. What Lebron and Bosh and Wade did is really bad for small market teams ONLY BECAUSE IT WORKED. The thing about this sort of basketball is that it's not about basketball, according to Isaiah Thomas. There's only one basketball on the court at a time and only one person can take each shot. The fact that Lebron and Wade and Bosh can sacrifice their one-man team stardom for a collective effort for rings says more about their personality than about their ballin' skills. And I think that's commendable. The stars of yesteryears and most of the stars of today are just too selfish to make this happen. A single team only has room for so much inflated ego--it's just physics. Lebron makes his teammates better through his offensive facilitation and his defensive prowess. He also has the ability to offensively take a game into his own hands, but we didn't see him do that too much in these playoffs. Maybe once or twice against Boston... And Dwight thinks he'd fit on the Lamers... I mean Lakers? How often is Kobe gonna pass that ball to you? The reason he has so much success with big men is because they get so many offensive boards and put-backs on his many, many shots. 

Note: I haven't taken the time to pull up the stats to back any of this up. I could be WAY off the mark here, but any chance I get to call out Kobe on his over-ratedness, I'll take.

And Dwight, Houston could be your team. This could be your city, even. But if you're gonna come here and be a one-year pile of drama, you can take your talents to the west coast. I can't wait for you to come to the Linsane Asylum (pardon the cliche) and get worked on by Monty-Younus or what the stuff his name is...

Celebrating Originality and Stuff

Why do melons always need their parents' permission to get married?

Because they can't elope!! Get it? Cantelope! Totally original...

Also, this one is original to me. Somebody may have done it before, but they were just retroactively imitating me... and that's only if I used the word "retroactive" correctly.

Uncle Todd: "Hey Andrew, what did the little boy say right before he got a knuckle noogie?"

Andrew: "*Weird noise with his tongue cuz he's five*"

Uncle Todd: "That's EXACTLY what he said!"

Andrew gets a knuckle noogie.

The end?

Da Engine Done Keeled!

Sometimes, when I drive to North Carolina, I drive through Louisiana.
Speaking of Louisiana, I once was really into this show called "Swamp People." I would mainly watch for "gator speak" which goes something like this:
Quote: "Bleepidy bleep bleep gator bleep bleep chute em bleepidy gator incomprehensible dialogue punctuated by a few bleeps." Almost exactly word for word.
The reason I am bringing up Louisiana, however, is because of this string of trippy dreams I've had. Not only am I having these trippy dreams, but I am waking up in the morning having vividly remembered them... almost to the point where I'm wondering if they really happened.
Such as the time I was wading in this strange river with my older brother Jon and his family, and we were watching the jumping eels. Then Jon was like, "Woa, check out that huge eel!" And I was like, "No way man, that's a hippo. RUN!" So we all ran and climbed up the man-made ladders with all of the rest of the people that were present because it turns out we were just in some sort of animal exhibit at a zoo. And the hippo wasn't really a hippo... or an eel. It was giant freaky gator. Bleep!
Then the very next night, I was out with Trapper Joe (a real character from the show), and we were at a river shooting gators at our leisure. I had the feeling that I was hired help for this guy, but I spent most of my time trying to buy Twizzlers out of the nearby vending machines. Then Trapper Joe went out on this wharf to shoot at some gators, and I was wondering if the wharf was real stable, so I tapped it with my foot which caused it to submerge and pitch Trapper Joe into the river. At that moment I knew Joe was a goner, like we were in some B-rated Syfy movie, and man, the gators really did come after him. He was all punching them in the face though as he got back onto land and one happened to fasten on his leg. He didn't mind. He was only grateful that I was there to help, so I was debating whether or not to tell him that I caused the wharf to submerge as he still didn't know I caused him to take the dive in the first place. I mean, have you seen how he treats his stepson?
Then just last night, I had a dream that I was back in Lake Jackson getting ready to play basketball at our chapel, just like I do every Tuesday night. Much to my delight, however, the floor was now wooden, the gym was expanded, and tons of people were showing up from the olden days. The only problem was that the three point lines hadn't been drawn yet, so some people were laying out an extension cord as a make-shift marker for it and I was warming up--missing all of my shots as usual--when some babies started making noises in real life and I woke up and stuff. I was really sad and disoriented, but it was already eight or so and time to get up.
I guess that last one didn't have a whole lot to do with Louisiana or gators, but maybe you enjoyed it all the same.

The End?

Litany of Misdeeds

I saw a friend's photo on Bookface the other day, and the album was titled, "Litany of Misdeeds." That, or maybe it was just another strange pirate phrase, cause my Bookface account is in pirate speak. Sometimes I have a hard time trying to decipher what my options are... do I make someone 'Walk the Plank' if I want to block their cheesy status updates?

Anyways, should I ever turn this blogging thing into an auto-biography that blows Harry Potter out of the water (that rhymed!), then I suppose I will name it "Litany of Misdeeds." That may be a bit misleading because my life hasn't been riddled with misdeeds, relatively speaking, but I do remember a few times in elementary school...

Note: Because of a theme of mixing fiction with reality, some of you may not believe the following stories, considering my straight-laced disposition... but I assure you, these stories are true.

First grade: I am sitting in the lunch room pretty much by myself. All the rest of the school, it seems, is at a "B.E.A.R" party (being an excellent reader or something like that) and since I never turned signed papers in, I always got left behind. So there I am spacing off and all of the sudden some GIRL sits across the table and starts talking to me. Gross! I'm in first grade, woman! She starts kind of flirting with me (this girl is in my class and liked to tease me for my curly hair) and I'm getting annoyed. She is leaning on this oddly shaped lunch box with rounded ends, so I give the lunch box a slight shove to try and give her the message to wait a few years before trying this again, but it just so happens that the lunch box slips from it's upright position and the weight of her head comes crashing down onto it, or maybe it was the table... the physics of what happened is really hard to explain. Just know this: she got a pretty good--and pretty unintentional--pop in her chin. And since we're still in first grade, she cries and tattles, and a bewildered little Mr. Martin finds himself for the first time in his life sitting in that dreadful dungeon that only the token "bad" kid (Aaron Taylor) had ever been to.

I can't remember my parents' reaction. Perhaps the memory is suppressed. 

Second grade: Though this one may actually have happened in third grade and the third grade incident would go here, but all the same...

Kids play with their food. That's a given, right? Go to a school cafeteria and all of the sudden parents are no longer in the equation--let the cajun cooking begin! So this one "friend" (emphasis on the quotes) of mine is mixing all sorts of undesirables on his plastic lunch tray: mashed potatoes, maybe some chocolate milk, okra, and there's always peas involved. Kids all around are squealing with delight. In those days, I used to take these chocolate puddings in my lunch, though I wouldn't eat them 3 out of 4 times (why did I keep packing them? I packed my own lunch, after all) because of their disagreeable constitution. It was like chocolate jell-o, which may sound great to some folks but it was just wierd to me back in the days of my rebellious youth. I had one of these said cups, and I thought I'd make a contribution to my "friend's" miasma. Squish goes the pudding and he stops in his tracks of squinty-eyed high pitch laughter... and the little fetcher raised his hand and tattled. Somehow, despite the mess of evidence (deliberate pun there) on his tray, I found myself trudging to the office of doom again.

Third grade: This one is the biggest head scratcher of all. A kid sits on a pencil... and I went to the office. Really? What did that even have to do with me? I mean, sure I was holding this upright pencil in clever anticipation of an unsuspecting victim, but he decided to sit in the very chair I had booby-trapped. How is that my fault? 

I was a bit surprised at how his thick jeans failed to prevent the lead from getting through. Then all these people were getting on to me about lead poisoning and whatnot and I found myself, once again, in that now familiar office.

Fourth grade: I think by this time that Aaron Taylor might have been held back, so I wonder if people thought of me as the problem child? It would have been severely ironic considering how things ultimately turned out with me in contrast with my classmates (still the only one stone cold sober)...

I don't remember specifically going to the principal's this year. I just rarely did any work, so I spent every recess period sitting on the sidewalk going over the first page in my hand-writing speller over and over again cause I never turned it in. Perhaps I foresaw the irrelevance of good penmanship with the dawning of the digital age...

The next few years I don't think I went to the principal's office, though I had scores of detentions because of consistent tardiness--thanks Lindsey. The only misdeeds I can remember for 5-7 are slight reprimands for trading Magic cards in class, though that should have gotten me expelled for extreme geekiness. Oh the humanity!

Eighth grade, however, I made up for it. Three days in a row... three trips to the principal's. By this time, going to the office isn't such a big deal--in fact, silly teenagers that we were, we may have considered it a feat--but three days in a row could prod even my slumbering conscience. Once was for throwing a wad of paper in band class, though that particular band class was more of a study in student hostility and rioting... Once was for playing hooky during athletics, and I think the other time was just a whim from Ms. Piper. Boy, she hated boys. I used to get sentences for putting my feet in my chair, no joke!

And then, freshman year in high school, I started reading the Book of Mormon and stuff, and I made the connection to what true happiness is. The rest is a much more boring history, but a history that still continues to write itself. Holy narcissism Batman!

No School in the Summertime

Wow, has it really been over a month since I last posted? Sorry folks, I know you're sitting on the edge of your seats, but let me explain...
My life just got really boring.
I mean, I could sit here and write about the trippy dreams I have, or about hunting pastors on the internet, or about singing and dancing on the little big stage, or about receiving my diploma in the mail, or about getting drafted to the Phoenix Suns, or about my upcoming trip to North Carolina, or about the fixed NBA... but we've all been there before, right? How about something new--something fresh?
Food!
I made the best freaking burrito things the other day and stuff! Chicken and mozerella with sour cream, grilled onions, tomatoes, and red peppers all on a grilled tortilla. It felt like I was almost eating something healthy! Then again, it was after fasting for 22+ hours, so a shoe might've tasted good at that point.
Ok, it's time to go make up some more nerdy games to play with my nephews.

Announcing the 4,996th View of my Blog!!

I know I just posted yesterday, and it's wierd for me to post two days in a row... and I know I should be working right now and stuff...
But I'm at the 4,996th view of my blog!... since I got that view counter deal! I need to celebrate with some ice cream!
But wait... isn't 5,000 the quintessential milestone that everyone celebrates? Why not wait for 4 more views?
I tried... I even tried refreshing the page but it wouldn't count it... so I said what-the-hey, I'm hungry for dairy over-dose. Let's go celebrate something.
Even at this very moment, you, Mr(s). Reader can find something to celebrate! So go get some Baskin Robbins or indulge in hedonistic activity! You deserve it.

Pretend We're Having a Dinner Table Conversation...

You know what was a good movie? "We Bought a Zoo." Sometime in that movie, Matt Damon said something like, "20 seconds of insane courage is all it takes..." or "20 seconds of stupid courage..." You get the idea. Or maybe I got the idea. Or at least an idea...

You know what was another good movie? "The Avengers." I'm not much of a Marvel guy myself, but man, that movie was soooo good, I just might name my firstborn--"The Avengers." Apologies to anyone that I've already told that joke to.

You know what's a terrible feeling? A burnt tongue.

You know what else is a terrible feeling? When simple things become reeeaaalll complicated. Like missing your exit on the highway, or getting directions from old people. Or like those times when you drive or walk for 20 minutes only to not have the number two pencil you need to take the scantron test final. Or like those times when one day of not shaving means no intramural game. Or like when you're walking to your car and you drop your keys and they go down a drainage grate. Or walking in to a bank with only a check to deposit and walking out with a savings account you never wanted. Or like when presidents who are awfully similar in their policies divide a nation into two polarized forces. Or like when you call a girl to ask her out and you get her answering machine. Or like when you get a ticket for going 29 in a 20. Or like those times when you're baking bread and you waited the mandatory two hours for it to bake only to realize the oven was never turned on. Or like those times when you fail a paper for using the wrong font or margin. Or like how a microscopic scratch on a CD ruins it for life. Or like those times when you get a surprise attack in public... and I'm not talking about from ninjas. Or like when you run out of milk on Sunday. Or like casually riding a bike downhill and then, all of a sudden, your face is ruined. Or like when Super Smash Brothers Brawl becomes real life brawl. Or like when you drive a mile down the road and realize your GPS is gone, so you have to run the mile back to where you were parked cause it's a one-way street in a crowded city. Or like losing your GPS 2 hours into an 18 hour trip because it won't get along with the car charger. Or like errors in a slow-pitch softball league. Or like being a happy, complacent bachelor and then going to general conference.

But you know what? For all those frustrating things in life that you were thinking, "Oh man, I've been there..." 20 seconds of insanely stupid courage can make up for it. Just remember that and stuff.

Continue eating dinner kids.

Racing Lightning

Some of you may be wondering why my bucket list is soooo small... Where's the ambition, right? Why even bother with a bucket list when there's only two grand goals of life?

First of all, I don't share all of my life's ambitions on a blog.
Secondly, perhaps it's because I am sooo ambitious that my bucket list is so small in the first place. Maybe I've already done most everything on there (besides the obvious--get married in the temple and raise my own basketball team and whatnot).
In fact, one of the items could have been become a famous author. Done and done. Reference? "A Booger Picker" written in 3rd grade by yours truly. It's about a kid who got made fun of for picking his boogers until he became the hero by making the girls squeal during quiet time, earning the boys earlier recess and lunch time. The elementary teachers still know me for that single work. The wikipedia page is coming soon.
Also, one of the items could have been to give such an epic wedgie that the underwear tears. Done and done... as of two Sundays ago.
Also, one of the items could have been to recover my dad's black painted astro-van with decorative flames from the car thief who took it. Done and done. I found it at the county fair where my best friend from high school had jacked it, and I introduced said friend to a nearby law enforcement officer. Boy did he feel sheepish! Of course, my dad doesn't really own a black astro-van with flames painted on it... in fact, all this happened in my dream last night, but that counts for my bucket list, right?
Also, one of those items could have been starring in a musical number as Galahad from "Spamalot." Not done... yet. Just wait til June...
Also, one of those items could have been writing a blog post on April 30th and stuff... done and...
Done.

Keep Reading, It Gets Weirder

I was standing outside the other night watching the lightning show and thinking how much I missed the thunderstorms of Texas... then I started scratching this itch on my arm and the thought actually went through my mind, "I hope this is some sort of terrible bug bite." I mean, if it wasn't then it was probably poison ivy. So far, it hasn't spread or anything.
Then I went outside--the smell of the fresh cut grass after rain, bringing in a windy cold front is very specific in this region. I realize I haven't smelt that smell in over eight years. The smell of springtime in Texas... it's so high school! Back in the days when Facebook wasn't even invented yet, kids still called each other on land lines, and the Houston Astros were a relevant team. I drove a 93 J30 Infinity with 350 thousand miles on it, the biggest social events I attended where stake dances, and my only care in the world was to get in to BYU to watch Crowton's Cougars fumble the ball to a frustrating degree.
Yes, this is another one of those pointless nostalgic posts.
Has it really been eight years since I've been home for my birthday, Halloween, general conference, or Easter? Big deal... 26 aint nothing (which I guess means it's something?), so why am I writing this post as if I'm having a mid-life crisis? I'm gonna live to be 120 after all. Maybe it's a mid-bachelorhood life crisis (and there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth!).
Maybe it's the dreams I have of fighting ninjas... and losing.
Maybe I don't have a whole lot to write about so I'm getting repetitive and unoriginal.
Maybe I just like saying the word maybe...

BUT!
Since we're on the topic of unoriginality and stuff, let me just make a few comments on some things completely different:

That movie, Hunger Games, was real good. I've never seen a movie stay so true to the canon (the book). It's funny how the audience can get so offended when movies stray from the books they're based on, or vice verse when it comes to Lord of the Rings. Remember, people, it is a movie "based" on a book, not the book put directly into motion picture medium. But with this Hunger Games, it could have been the latter, and quite applaudably* so.

Also, I watched the new Muppets movie. I am a muppet of a man.

Also also:

Dear Mr. Obama,
     Your taxes suck.
     I am moving to Tonga, and you'll be sorry that I left!!

Not that I'm threatening the government or anything, I just think when I'm famous, they'll be like, "Hey, he's an American! Oh wait..."

*Denotes a newly invented word.

Time Skips

As you can see, I put some nifty categorizations on my blog for my favorite blog posts, regardless of what my imaginary audience thinks. I know, soooooo self-promoting, right? Well, the Books of Man of Little Consequence are all involved, so now you (or I) can read them as one book, though there are significant time skips between each chapter.
And then I started thinking about time skips... you know, the sort that show up in books or t.v. shows, telling you a whole summer has passed or maybe two years when in reality, the only time that has passed was you putting down one book and taking the next one off the shelf. Or maybe you're a bit weird like me and you sleep on it, hoping to get more of the feel of the intended time pass so as to make the reunions between the characters more meaningful (Nerd plug here: I actually waited two days before I made the transition from Naruto to Shippuden. Hopefully, you don't know what I'm talking about...) First Nephi has a seven year time skip when they were wandering around in the wilderness, but we move on to the next verse in a second while he and his family lived through all those--probably very uncomfortable--years.

So do we ever wish for time skips in our lives? Like a sort of Adam Sandler "Click" function where we can just pass a few hours or days or years in the blink of an eye, and effectively accomplish great growth without the growing pains?

I kind of wished for that today as I was painting a long stretch of fence. The monotonous tedium was sure to be taxing on my restless soul... Why can't I just be there--two hours into the future when it's all done for today. But then, if that were the case I would have missed the giant painted turtle in the pampas grass, which I "rescued" and placed in the kennel. I wouldn't have been able to invite my nephews over for a VIP pass to my own single-exhibit zoo, and then we wouldn't have gloriously released the turtle to scores of imaginary cheering cheer-people, and ended the afternoon with a strangely victorious feeling. I mean, it's just a turtle... but turtles are soooo cool and stuff.

So I stand by my own axiom, totally original as far as I know: "The greatest blessing of this monotonous and tedious life--and the tedium and monotony only increase as we get older and settle into a routine of handling responsibilities, mind you--is that we get to live every moment of it." For what is life but monotony, punctuated by periods of exaltation? That wasn't original. I did just quote myself right before that like some great philosopher/tool though.

Then again, it's after midnight and I'm about to retire the day, which means I'll time skip from this time til about, say, eight-thirty tomorrow morning (envy me, oh ye workers of industry in locations other than your own home!). So I guess my whole prolix, philosophical quote is bogus. Bummer.

But what about dreams? Does it count as a time skip if I'm hanging out in an RV parked in the middle of an ocean surrounded by scores of show-boating seals? I'll let you mull that one over in your exhausted minds. Until then, thanks for reading, even if you cut out after the first paragraph on this one.

As I Sit Here on My Bum

I've been thinking... Why is it so bad to be a "pain in someone's rear?" Obviously, "rear" is not always the word used in this instance, but since some children read my blog (i.e. myself) I need to censor the more common phraseology. Anyways, isn't the rear your most resilient body part? I mean, if I got shot somewhere, I would want to get shot in my glutes rather than, say, my funny bone. "Man, you're a real pain in the funny bone!" Or what about the fingers? So many nerve endings there... just think of how much a paper-cut hurts compared to a spanking. For those of you reading this who are too old to remember how much a spanking hurts, let me assure you, they're not that bad. "Man, you're a real pain in the finger!"
I guess if you intend to sit down a whole lot, a pain in your bum would be a bit more of a hassel. Like if I had a splinter in my cheeks that just dug deeper every time I found a nice chair, I guess life could get miserable enough to warrant a younger sibling donning that moniker.
Wait a minute... that's all the time... for pretty much everybody!
Way to go, America. Because we are so sedentary, annoying people are pains in our aces instead of pains in our feet.
Speaking of sedentary America, I think it's funny when morning kid shows are all about singing to the kids to go and get up and get outside and run around or dance and stuff... funny that it comes from a kid's show that is all about keeping the kids in front of the TV. How often do you see your nephews or nieces or grandchildren or children what-have-you actually move (much less get up and stretch out) during Hot Dog Hot Dog Hot Diggity Dog? It just doesn't make any sense...
Like GEICO commercials. They often have NOTHING to do with insurance whatsoever. And beer commercials... why don't they depict those parties like what they actually looked like (people breaking things, barfing, walking around with their pants down and going to jail and stuff)? Then again, the whole alcohol industry doesn't make any sense. It's a reckless waste of life, killing more people in the United States than any other factor--thus one way we avoid the destroying angel by living the word of wisdom. And yet, without the alcohol industry, the American economy would collapse much like the Soviet Union did.
Silly America... what a pain in the arsenal.

Publishings from the Unpublished

As time goes on and erodes the faculties of my mind, I begin to lose track of these archives of posts...With so much philosophy and flashback and fiction and straight up randumb stupidity, I often have to check myself--"Have I written on this subject before?" For instance, my bucket list. Does anyone know what is on my bucket list? I mean, there's the obvious "Get married in the temple and have twelve kids and get translated" shpeel, but I'm talking about the more secular bucket list. For me, there has only been two things:

1. Sing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir... sort of like a Rudy/Jimmy Stewart sort of dream
2. Get struck by lightning. (I even have a plan for this one, it's phenomenal!)

And not necessarily in that order.
So these were the only two items until about two weeks ago when I was watching a life-changing program called Man v. Food (which I am certain I have mentioned before) where Adam Richman went to Des Moines, Iowa and ate a challenge that featured, among other things, a block of DEEP FRIED CHEDDAR CHEESE! Hello bucket list items numbers three through seventeen!!! Deep fried cheddar cheese... about eight square inches of it or so! Why did it take America so long to think that up, and in Des Moines of all places! What a trip.
And for all those gung ho readers who are still with me on this post, here's the update-ive portion that this blog was originally intended for: Since being back in Texas, I really haven't done much. I mean, I got a job and graduated and stuff, but that's marginal to the real juicy stuff, right? You're all wondering what only my bold nephews can ask out loud after the first trip to the singles ward back in Texas: "Did you meet a girl?" Why yes, Ultra Tiger, I met lots of girls that day. And six months later, I've met even more. Go figure...
I will divulge so much: Chick Flicks don't make me as bitter as they used to. Take what you will from that, it's probably not what you're thinking.
Oh yeah, and there is one more thing. I guess I have to fess up to this sometime...

I am obsessed with Naruto.

In case any of you don't know, Naruto is an anime. As one who used to ridicule Japanamation for its uber-exaggerated emotions and its crap-running-down-a-tree pace, I am ashamed to publicly admit that I have gone Otaku! And I don't even know what that means... So much for Regular Greg and stuff.

What Dreams May Go

The dreams of losing teeth continue to happen like some recurring nightmare. Every time it is the same... one or two of my teeth is loose and I will hypnotically mess with it either with my tongue or fingers until it comes out. The sudden vacancy then causes emotions of extreme depression slash anger at my dentists who didn't get it right AGAIN! What a relief it is to wake up in the morning with yet a full smile.
Then there are the mission dreams wherein I am usually quite conscious of having already served a mission in Sacramento. I always know that this is the second mission that I'm on, but only recently has the thought begun to creep into my subconscious: "Why am I getting called on another mission? Shouldn't I be focusing on a wife?!"

Those are the usuals. Interpret them as you may. However, just recently I remember having a pretty cool superpower that when I had just one contact in, I could look at people and see them as a much younger version of themselves... sorta like a lens that receives light from 10-15 years ago, a reverse Hubble telescope if you will. During the dream, as I was looking at a 22 year old version of my oldest brother wearing his coke-bottle glasses, I kept thinking of how I finally had something to blog about and stuff...

My Posts are Getting Real Short

So I was having a birthday the other day and it was pouring rain in Houston. I had been lost for about an hour or so and the kids in the car were starting to complain. Finally, we arrived at the place and they wouldn't let me be "Snaggletooth Patchbeard the Angry," so "Patchbeard" had to suffice. And even though my laser didn't work in round one, I went to town in round 2 shooting all those complaining kids with lasers! Peeyuw Peeyuw, KABLOOOM!!! Best... Birthday... Ever!! (No children were harmed in the writing of this post)

Witty Retorts

I don't know if anyone even uses this phrase anymore, but if anyone ever tells you,
"Why don't you say that to my face," you should say:

"Turn around and bend over and I will!"

Get it? Cuz they're a buttface?...

Late Night Sports Corner

It's midnight on the day, technically after, that wretched singles awareness shpeel. Some people went on dates and stuff--good for them. I took a huge nap after visiting the temple this morning so I'm finding it a bit difficult to shut down for the night, so I thought I'd call on Mr. Sandman via another boring and horribly misinformed post about sports.
And what's going on in sports that's marginally interesting? Linsanity. That's about it.
So sure, I'll toss in my one cent about the whole shibang that has taken ESPN absolutely by storm, but only because he made a game-winning three tonight (last night?) that dropped a proverbial vat of jet fuel onto the proverbial fire that this kid has lit under the nation. I mean, six game winning streak with superstar-esque numbers, and some of us still think it's a flash-in-the-pan burst benefiting from the brief absence of established talent in Carmello and Amare? Are we all believers now, America?
I don't think Mr. Lin is going away anytime soon. Let me tell you why:
When I read the news about his game-winner tonight (last night), I felt like David... "Is this real life?" I mean, can the stars really align so magnificently for some nobody out of nowhere? The odds are way too off for this whole thing... It only confirms my deepest suspicions.

The NBA is rigged!*

These aren't basketball players... they're actors! This is no different from WWF or whatever they call professional smack talk nowadays. David Stern starts to panic from a lack of interest in a season that everybody feels wasn't supposed to happen. Combine the short and sudden schedule with the increasing taint of player selfishness and top-heavy star power in bigger markets (does Charlotte even still have a basketball team?) and Stern makes a call to all the owners, GM's, coaches, and relevant players: code Papale. Everybody make way for the spark that will ignite the fandom of the nation from their pre-NFL draft stupor! 

I'm on to you, Mr. Stern. For all my readers who actually read when I put the word "Sports" in the title, just remember you heard it first here. And I heard it first from Dave McKean. 

*Disclaimer: I don't truly believe the NBA is rigged... The Pistons and Spurs dominated too much of last decade to ever validate that conspiracy theory.

Just Thinking to Myself

There are so many deep questions I want to ask the universe...

What are possums for?

Why is my cat snoring?

How am I going to get two more pages out of this thesis?

and most of all...

Why does a guy with pastey white arms and no muscles and orange hair growing off his shoulders wear a sleeveless shirt to a church activity?