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Publishings from the Unpublished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.