Another Game Show Thing!

Time for me to flaunt my talents as an obscure movie quote rememberer... Holiday Style!
NAME THAT CHRISTMAS MOVIE!

1. "Then I'm going to spend four hours skiing alone. Completely and utterly alone."
2. "I don't pay extra for the warmth you know." "You should, it's the only warmth he ever had."
3. "This is a very interesting situation!"
4. "Do you like kids?" "On a case-by-case basis."
5. "It's turbo time!"
6. "That was the speech?" "It was dumb!" "It was obvious!" "It was pointless!" "It was short..." "I LOVED IT!"
7. "How are you doing?" "Mutual I'm sure."
8. "Because Santa is watching Saturated Fats!"
9. "Forget it. We'll get a funnel cake. It will be the highlight of my week!"
10. "Is it taaaastey? Is it scruuuuuuumptious?"
11. "Look what you did you little jerk."
12. "Hoity toity Mr. god-like smarty pants!"
13. "Wanna pick some snowberries?" "Not now Arctic Puffin!"
14. "You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant!"
15. "It's the first season of Lost on DVD." "That's the meaning of Christmas?" "It's a metaphor. It represents lack of payoff."
16. "Everyone stay perfectly sincere. Humbugs are attracted to sarcasm."
17. "There's children throwing snowballs instead of throwing heads! They're busy building toys and absolutely no one's dead!"
18. "Ceaser Romero is not Spanish." "I didn't say Ceaser Romero was Spanish." "Well what did you say?" "I said Ceaser Romero was tall."
19. "Every family has a kid who doesn't eat. My kid brother hadn't eaten voluntarily in over three years."
20. "Later Dudenator!"

Why I Can't Write Love Stories

"Hey Todd! Why don't you write a love story, since you're so knowledgeable on the subject?"
Said no one ever.
Well guess what, randumb imaginary fan... I can't because my love is like the love of a Jedi: it's so deep and profound that I'll probably wander the universe completely alone for the rest of my life. So, akin to the reason I can't ever invent children's games, I simply can't in consideration of other peoples' souls. I mean, if I wrote a sappy love story, the critics would say things like:

"Oh man, I feel like I just got punched right in the feels! Sixty-eight times!"

"Am I done reading yet? I can't see through all the tears."

"After reading that story, my love life feels like a dried up dishrag with boogers on it."

"I think I forgot the meaning of life. Where's my gun?"

"If Stephanie Meyer and Nicholas Sparks had a baby and made Jack Weyland the godfather, this story would still be ten times sadder than that baby."

"I want to hug all the people in the world, which is weird because I'm Satan."

And then, everyone would have to reinvent their acronyms and replace all their "l"s with "c"s. Like COL (crying out loud), ROFC (rolling on the floor crying), YOCO (you only cry once), cmao (crying my... yeah you get the point). 

And then all the macho dudes on the earth would have to accept their more sensitive side on such a grand and universal scale that bronies would become the new paradigm of manliness.
So that's why I will never write a story about love or whatnot. Peeps need their balance in life!

Reason to stay a bachelor for life number 11: The man of little consequence remains so, much to the delight of his audience!

Things That Really Irk Me!

It's December, so it's time to write about something that really irks me. "Since when do you write about things that irk you in December?" you ask? Shut up.

Today I want to talk about the newest Kia Soul commercial. It REALLY irks me!
Those friggin hamsters have always been creepy and annoying to me. First of all, they're giant rodents! Not all that different from rats, really. Secondly, I hate to break it to them, but you can't solve the worlds problems by driving around and dressing all gangsta and having rave parties. You'd probably make the world worse actually.
The most recent depiction of these life-size dancing balls of fuzzy disease REALLY gets me! Yes, it irks me so much that I want to not-so-randumbly vandalize every Kia Soul I ever see and NEVER buy one in my whole life! Way to go ad wizards, this one really backfired. I mean, they slimmed down the hamsters which made them even CREEPIER with their disproportionate heads and bodies and then gave them a giant splash of tool, haircuts and everything. I mean, it's like taking something creepier than the Furby and Muppet ghost of Christmas past combined and dragging it through a sea of d**che (pardon my french) and poisoning ESPN with it! Curse you Kia Soul for ruining my Christmas Spirit!

In essence:

Plus

Equals

Plus

Puts you in the neighborhood of:

Which is in the Top Ten Worst Things of 2013 According to Todd Martin Who Happens to Be a Guy Who Knows About Things.

Reason to remain a bachelor for life number 25: One of the worst things you experienced this year was a really annoying commercial.

...Which is also consequently reason number 25 to graduate from bachelorhood. Sigh...

Dream Journal

Last night, probably at the very hour that daylight savings quit, I was having the cutest dream!
Gross. I can't believe I typed "cute" on my blog.
Anyways, it starts out with me inheriting a "prize running kitten." It's like a prize running horse, but it's a kitten, right? A little gray kitten actually. And what did it run? The 400 (you know, that event in track and field when you sprint a lap). Who did it run against? Puppies. All kinds of puppies.
So we were there all staggered for the beginning of the race. I was standing next to the little gray fuzzball and in all the lanes around us were puppies and their owners. I didn't think we would do that well, because I was the only guy on the track with a kitten instead of a puppy, but once the gun went off I just started jogging along the side of the track and the kitten kind of bounded along next to me. Before I knew it, we were way ahead of the rest of the pack, which was weird because it didn't feel like we were going that fast--almost like a "Woops, we're winning!" I guess the puppies were very slow or very blind. Anyways, we were just leaving everyone  else in our dust so much that we were about to lap this old person with his bulldog puppy--which is incredible because it's impossible to lap anyone in the 400. Somehow, the owner stepped out to the left or something and stepped on the kitten's paw which made the poor little guy just collapse. I tried to encourage him to get up and finish the race, but eventually all the puppies were passing us up as the kitten was curled up in pain and mewing in a way that would make your heart just melt. So, I decided to pick him up and take him to the vet.
The vet's place was more like a newspaper stand run by a guy in a white coat, but he took the kitten and looked at him and declared him ok. He then set the kitten down and the little guy started bounding about like nothing ever happened. I was wondering if I had put too much pressure on him to win that race; he was just a kitten after all.
I then woke up thoroughly disappointed that reality hasn't yet caught up with my dreams of kittens-vs.-puppies races or puppies-dressed-as-cats races. It's just so adorable when they run! Eccckk... what a gushy post.
Notice the kitten never really got a name. What's that all about, Freud?
Anyways, I had this other cool dream a few weeks ago about how I did that thing that you only see in the movies or in the tv shows, you know when people are talking about you and all the sudden they turn around and there you were where there was nobody just a second ago. Like a Batman or a Rumpelstiltskin kind of trick. I felt so cool when I did it, because I saw one of my friends and his wife sitting at a table next to a fountain in some sort of mall and they were expecting me and they were debating whether or not they should even wait for me and then they turned away from the fountain and I jumped/glided down from the upper story I was on and landed quietly enough right on the edge of the fountain that they turned around and there I was just sitting there with one leg over the other and a smug look on my face thinking, "OH man, I just rocked your world!!!"
And that was the whole dream. Not  a whole lot of substance to it, but I can still say it's one of the best ones I've had in 2013. Probably second after prize racing kitten.

Auchh(flem)tober

Ah, the most wonderful time of the year... now that summer means nothing because I'm not in school.
Seriously though, you walk outside to beautiful weather. The sun is pleasant instead of oppressive, the air is crisp, the degrees are in the sixties, and the smell of everything is just so nostalgic... reminiscent of a time when Halloween was so magical that just pulling the box of decorations out of the attic was like the first Christmas of the year. Also, Saturdays just burst into life with college football, and though the Texans are a bit disappointing this year, at least ESPN has something to show other than difficult but repetitive baseball highlights because the NFL is in full swing and the NBA just launched. And now calls to family always include plans for Christmas. It's that time of year too. Bust out the Bing or the Harry or the Muppets or the Manheim or the TSO, whatever gets you in the mood for that one season that people actually don't think just about themselves all the time.
So why don't I care much for that "holiday" called Halloween? It's been more of a "my dad's birhtday" than a "glorified set of traditions that were great in elementary, died in high school, but came back in force in college because we all suddenly realized we loved our childhoods" for the last decade for me. I want to touch on that decade a bit to try and explain:
My senior year in high school, I remember going to play football against the Boling Bulldogs with one, Carlton Waddy--I remember his name, yes, and the feeling of his and his whole team's cleats on my face as I pulled grass out of my face mask play after play. That game really defined my role, not as outside linebacker, but as "speed-bump." Even the coach told me, "Martin, this is a rough game for you." What can you do when the guys you are going up against way an average of 45 pounds more than you do? Go for the knees!
For all the college Halloweens, including freshman year pre-mission, I can sum it up with iffy dance parties and everybody and their dogs going out in couples to haunted houses or scary movies and crap. This is probably the biggest deal that marginalized Halloween for me--three words, one alliteration: bitter BYU bachelor. Crap, I just published that shameful bit... With that in mind, Halloween is only number two on the list of least favorite holidays; it should be pretty obvious what number one is.
Mission Halloweens don't really count because they were just another day wherein we worked hard and then went home early so people didn't egg us in their chaotic revelry.
Now post-BYU, Halloween hasn't been so bad. I spent the last one away from family, but the one before that I got to enjoy it with nephews and nieces in Texas, which helps to recapture some of the magic that defined it in my youth. Oh the ambivalence of nostalgia... how we humans crave such things! Or maybe that's just me...
Still (back to whining), I am amazed at how everyone puts so much creativity and resources into their costumes and the best thing I've come up with in the last decade was intramural referee... which really was just me walking home from work. I NEED MY ATTENTION PEOPLE!!
As such, as a sort of "sticking it to the pagan traditional man" statement, I carved a cantelope instead of a pumpkin.

And then I didn't eat it!

So enjoy your zombies and ghosts and things for those people who really dig the 31st. If it's your thang then it's your thang, but it ain't my thang. I never understood America's fetish with zombies and vampire romance and watching movies with enough gore and creepiness to keep me awake for several days, but I guess I lived a happy childhood. Not saying you didn't... 

I also just remembered that I forgot to get candy in case kids actually knock on my door tonight. I better go outside and collect some rocks.

Happy 64th pops! I wouldn't know how old you are if I didn't go back and check how old you were last year in my journal.

Reason to remain a bachelor for life number 31: You can spend Halloween doing what you really want to do: watching NBA and eating Denali Xtreme Maximum Fudge Moose Tracks. 

Oh ASUS, how you Ruin Me!!

I rant sometimes about electronics. It's time to do that again.
My work computer, I swear, is trying to foil me!
I'm like, "Man I have this important job tomorrow!"
And it's like, "Great! Let me give you a white screen and nothing else. Yup. I just got a virus even though you use me for work and skype and literally nothing else! Good luck keeping your job after that ten hour debacle!"

And then I'm like, "Ok, let me get you that audio as fast as I can because it's after 10:00 PM and we just finished this job."
And it's like, "Well, I really don't feel like recognizing any thumbdrives at all, except the one you have on your keychain, but I'm just gonna tell you that it's WAY too full. Those Word docs and powerpoints are weighty stuff, you know. See you at home around 11:30!"

And almost every time I open it, I'm like, "Hello!"
And it's like "Shut up!" and it shuts down for some reason that I have yet to discover.

But it still manages to do its job mostly and I am learning to work around its eccentricities. Still... sometimes I feel a little like Sparhawk and this computer is my Faran.

Reason to stay a bachelor for life number 24: You can get home from work at 10:30 PM, and the day is only beginning!

Gnats

Have I complained about gnats before? I don't think I have... enough.
Can I just say that I wish that all the gnats in the world had an aneurysm  right about now. I mean, I just had one fly up my nose! Just when you think you've gotten rid of the little buggers, all the sudden they start flying out of your disposal again!

Reason to stay a bachelor for life number 52: Bugs in your place aren't that big of a deal.
Reason to graduate from bachelorhood number 51: Bugs in your place become a big enough deal that somebody actually does something about them.

Anxiety Dreams

As we turn the pages of life, sometimes we come upon a new chapter. Perhaps we are starting a new job or moving--something important is on the horizon. The night before this big thing, do you ever dream that you're there and something is amiss? I call these anxiety dreams, and they are the best dreams to wake up from because you're like, "Ok, it hasn't happened yet and I haven't screwed it up... yet."
I actually had one of these last week because my employers had sent me an email for a job and it was supposed to be a very important client. So... I spent the whole of the night before thinking I was in a hotel and scrambling to set up all my equipment there in the hotel (because that was apparently where the whole deal would take place) and very conscious the whole time that I still had to shower. Luckily I was in a hotel so the shower was right there, right?
Then I woke up. Then I went to the real depo. Then I screwed it up in real life. Long story involving a failure to communicate on my part. Big woopsy. Anxiety dream fulfilled.
Since I got to keep the job, I was trying to sleep last night and I kept having dreams about doing work again for that same lawyer that was upset with me, but this one kept messing up too. I mean, the witness was plastered drunk and wouldn't stay in his seat, and there were also two girls sitting on the table totally blocking my camera shot of the witness. The frustration was only cut short by me waking up in the real world because my phone went off with a text informing me about my job that day that I didn't know about. I had to be there in an hour, and it was downtown. I didn't take a shower in real life this time.
So, the human subconscious can be a very cruel thing sometimes. I wonder how much sleep I am going to lose as I anxiety dream about stealing cars and meeting up with Detective Jerk-wad and seeing his smug little face and hearing, "My prayer just got answered."

Reason for being a bachelor for life Number 42: Anxiety dreams. I mean, it's gotta be something awful the night before your wedding.

Litany of Misdeeds Continued Continued

So, I found out recently that all those claims that Detective Dirtbag made concerning me being seen in two suspicious situations were both completely false. I wasn't mentioned by anyone during any sort of investigation except for a brief mention as a witness to get timetables right as to the whereabouts of Mr. Colliver.
So yeah, he was doing his job, but he was also violating codes of conduct in the process. I have filed complaints against him with harassment and willingly giving false evidence. I imagine he's already gotten many such complaints, so this was more for me. I can sleep better at night now.
Was this a charitable move on my part? Shouldn't I just forgive and let go? Pssshhh... I think the more charitable move was to do what I can (even if it's just a measly complaint) to help other citizens not have to go through what I did. Who knows how close people come to falling victim to such methods and a justice system that does make mistakes...
And speaking of charity, this whole situation confirmed to me that although we must unfailingly forgive our fellow man, we don't have to unfailingly TRUST them. Charity, then, becomes quite an ambiguous attribute in such situations with rather divisive points of view. So, I ask you concerning Mr. Colliver... Considering charity, do I distance myself from such a person?

Litany of Misdeeds Continued!

It's been kind of a funny week.
I generally like to be liked by people. That may be some sort of weakness or some sort of charity, I'm not really sure. And all the time I spent being an official for BYU intramurals and being a missionary for the church should have hardened me against lesser minds speaking greater evils, but it's been so long since either of those occupations that perhaps I've gotten unused to being disliked.
So when I get in trouble with one of the lawyers at work, I won't lie, it made my day a bit longer. I felt like a big softy, not having the hard outer shell that could easily withstand the beratings (that may not be a word) of some such lower organism (i.e., the lawyer). What happened, you ask? I took an early lunch break and cost them about 20 minutes, which is actually a HUGE mistake on my part. As they say "You live you learn" to try and make people feel better about their mistakes... what if I didn't learn anything? I know it's a bad thing to make the lawyers wait, and I just made an oopsie. I suppose I will take further precautions in the future to make sure that when they say "lunch" they mean "lunch". Also, "lunch" is one of my all-time least favorite words in the English language along with "tasty" and "yummy". I HATE those words, which is ironic because I love food more than most people.
On Tuesday, there was no basketball after institute. One of the teachers even walked behind me and said "You don't get to play basketball tonight, neener neener neener!" Grown-ups these days... they hurt my heart. Also, my sedentary life hurts my heart. That's why I need basketball so much...
To top it all off, today I got to play hard-ball with a really anal detective from Logansville--which happens to be a city I've never been to. Hour trip? Sure, why not. Let me tell you the reason I thought I was going first of all, but sit down cause it starts much earlier.
There is a guy in my ward that I've had some interactions with that we will call "Colliver". Now, Mr. Colliver seemed to be a bit misunderstood by his fellow YSA's. I do well with misunderstood people, so I volunteered to help him split wood last week, which may have been the most manual labor I've done in one day all year. I've hung out with him in a group setting twice before as well. So here comes the moral of the story as well as a spoiler alert: Don't let marginal acquaintances borrow your car without you in it!
At the big regional conference that happened last weekend in Lilburn, I passed by him and he asked to borrow my car. What was I going to say at a church gathering... no? I was a bit hesitant, but I decided to trust him, I guess. He was supposed to be taking it to close on a deal for a minivan at a place right in the area. I wondered how he had gotten to the conference in the first place, but I guess I just figured some family member dropped him off. Anyways, he took longer than I thought, which bothered me a bit. I kept texting him (even in the middle of the dance) and asking where he was with my keys. He gave some vague responses, but he did come back with my keys. He borrowed them again later that night because he said he needed something from my car. He was gone again for longer than I expected, but again he did return with my keys and I ended up giving him and one other friend a ride home.
Do you see where this is going?
I didn't think much of the meeting I had with the police officers the next day except for the fact that Mr. Colliver had possibly committed a felony while out in my car. I told those two officers everything I knew, and I figured that it was all done and behind me. Apparently a car had been stolen and my marginal acquaintance was being accused. He denied it and apologized for getting me involved.
I figured I build some street cred just by meeting with officers. Three days later, when I was called by some randumb police officer in Logansville to meet him at his office, I wasn't too bothered until I realized that Logansville was an hour away and I hadn't eaten anything for the last six hours.
He sat me down in a tiny little room with a camera and told me to leave my electronic devices outside. I was pretty sure I was just there to regurgitate what I had already told the officers on Sunday, and I did so in the span of about five minutes. Fifty-five minutes later, after arguing like a child with this man and denying some pretty shaky claims involving me specifically, I was rather upset and ready to give him a reason to really interrogate me, Detective DumbAce. Sorry about that... but I REALLY didn't like this guy. I mean, I know he was badgering me and calling me a liar for an hour because it was his job to try and get a confession if there was a confession to be gotten, but this was a direct quote from him at the end of my interrogation: "I pray to God that you are convicted." He used the whole "pray" thing because a lot of the conversation revolved around religion, what with my acquaintance with Mr. Colliver and the whole incident of supposed car theft taking place at a church event. Ironic, no?
It seems I was reported as being in the stolen vehicle at 3 AM Monday morning, and I was also reported looking into the vehicle Saturday night very suspicious like. The former claim was made by some 18 year old girl IN MY WARD and the second claim was very vague... I think he mentioned a "Mr. Man." Haha!
Seriously though, where did those claims come from? It really shook me that something so outrageous had been levelled against me, so the visible signs of my unease I'm sure gave Detective DipSnot some confidence in bullying me around. But I wonder if the girl saw something--at 3 AM in the morning--and just assumed it was me due to my associations with Mr. Colliver the night of the theft. Or perhaps Colliver had an accomplice that looked kind of like me--it was dark on both occasions that I was allegedly spotted. Perhaps the fact that Mr. Colliver took my car that I was seen driving in played some factor into it. But this detective D-Bag was totally going off of these testimonies to the point that my own was apparently invalid. And where was Mr. Colliver during all this? Who knows... And why am I only being questioned now, three days later?
As I sat in that room, so many worst case scenarios went through my head... what if I was setup? Maybe a vindictive teenager who got bored with life or perhaps con-man who preys on Mormons. Either way, I started picturing myself as Edmon Dantes or Andy Duphrain... I'm sure even some Clyde Shelton snuck in there. I picked out a prison name too... Diamondback!!! I would get a Diamondback tattoo as well, and put it maybe on my back... cause it's a Diamondback, right?
So maybe later this week, I'll go give them a DNA sample and fingerprints and stuff. Big deal. What's another trip to 30-miles-away Logansville, right? *grinding teeth*

Reason for graduating from bachelorhood number 95: You would have somebody to vouch for you at 3 AM Monday morning.

Once Upon an Epic Balderdash

Ok, I'm pretty sure that I heard this actual story on Paul Harvey one early morning on the drive to school. That one instance made me file some semblance of that true story away in my memory banks to be withdrawn years and years later during one memorable Beyond Balderdash family game. You know how it gives you a date and you have to say what is significant about that date? I wrote this story for that date:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnDH1va7iC0

And then, years after that, the actual shark week commercial, posted above, shows up on TV. Me and Paul Harvey, we understood the brilliance of this before it was cool. Hashtag iwasahipsterbeforebeingahipsterwascool.

Also featured in that Balderdash game was the Von Trapeze triple flippeze and subsequent doom. Man, we are a morbid family...

And then there was that one Balderdash game where everything was about leprechauns. Someone even re-wrote the script of Fresh Prince of Belair starring leprechauns for the plot of a movie. We also learned how fun it can be to play Balderdash after having watched Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka... pure imagination!

Here are some words I've taken from Balderdash for the rest of my life: Spizzerinktum (cheap tacky decorations), woopknacker (I don't remember), Noop (the skin on your elbow, I think) and Tyrosemiology (the art of collecting cheese labels, not dead cows rotting in the rain). 

Speaking of epic family games, I am watching this thing on funny ESPN commercials, and Albert Pujols showed up. That reminded me of Hayden's answer to the question "What is the most unfortunate name you can think of?" during the game Loaded Questions (about two Christmas's ago). There was also the name of his autobiography, "Why is My Butt Fat?" and "What is the most important thing in a relationship?" followed by his father's "Hayden, we need to have a talk..."

My Hipster Moment

I just had an epiphany today... that this girl got me into Jamie Cullum, she used to invite me to all these events called "Imagine Dragons" on Facebook. As I read about that band, she's there on the wikipedia website. She's not a part of the band anymore, but I felt kind of like a big deal just making that connection.

Dwight and Gnats

Ok, I know that this time last year I was totally bagging on Dwight Howard, but he's coming to Houston! Therefore all of my baggings from yesteryear are retracted. Heck, I would even retract everything about Kobe if he came to Houston (but that will never happen and I hope it never does). One player I would still want to fail even if he came to Houston: Andrei Kirlinko. I don't know... maybe it's his Beiber hair or his openness on his cheating on the wife or the wicked flops or all the time he spent with the Jazz... etc. etc.
So Dwight is a little immature... big deal. Up until about two years ago, so was Lebron. The offense may not run the same with Dwight out there, but he can't help but improve the defense. I mean, contender now? Sure. About as much as the Pacers, Warriors, and Clippers are, I'd say. Not quite at the Spurs/Heat/Thunder tier.
That's all for sports. I don't want to get overly excited about having a year in which we have exciting teams in football AND basketball, and I know some of you get really bored with this stuff, so I'll quit here.

Point being, I'm a Dwight fan again.

In other news, I can't seem to swat this gnat problem I've been having in my apartment. They got really bad when I threw away my grease jar... infesting my trash can something awful. Now, I am sufficiently motivated to keep my kitchen spotless, but these buggers just won't go away!! What do I do? I've already put out the jar of vinegar with poked holes in the lid, but I don't know if that's even working. 

And is it a bad thing to eat homemade bacon cheeseburgers for every meal? If I don't eat them fast enough, the meat goes bad... 

Space Case

Man, I worked a lot this week. It may be the first week that I actually spent more time at work than awake at home. Is that sad?

So, by work I mean pushing a button and then spending the next few to several hours in la-la land. So here are some of my deep thoughts.

If I were a cop on one of those cop shows with two cops doing rogue-cop things (see Carter and Briggs from Regular Show), I think I wouldn't use guns--I would use my fists. I'd be like, "These guns don't run out of ammo," as I held my right fist like it was some kind of gun. I also wouldn't use profanity or anything even mildly close to it (my angry phrase would be "Bad Words!"), and most of my cases would involve busting contraband Cadbury Egg dealers. They're dangerous, you see, for contributing to obesity and ADD and fits of depression when Easter season ends and they are no longer available. Plus they're too rich for even me. Most of all, my signature catch phrase would be "You're under arrest. You have the right to remain punched!" And then I would punch him/her, if I already hadn't done so... numerous times.
I might actually turn this into a script. I've already got the two names of the cops picked out.

And then I found this video on Bookface, but not at work:

Sure the dog things is warm and fuzzy, but did you hear the sound the cat made when it fell of the ladder? LOLES!!

I only buy Bluebell ice cream when it's under 7 bucks at the store. 

Tomorrow is Father's day, so the ward linger longer is doing a "bring your father's favorite dish" thing. Well, I sure as Bad Words am not going to bring CORNED BEEF! What kind of human being wants corned beef for any type of special day, dad? Maybe people who live in Ireland... or Mars...

I talk to myself a lot when I drive places. I even try to say the same two words over and over again for 20 minutes. Maybe I'm practicing for the next game of "See who can get an annoyed reaction out of dad first". Maybe I'm just crazy. Ya, I'm pretty crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. GENTLEMEN, THAT'S ENOUGH!!

Nathan Fillion is going to be in the new "Much Ado about Nothing," playing the role as Dogberry, which was played by Michael Keaton in the Kenneth Branaugh version. Thought the world might need to know.

I want to go to bed at night and have a cat attack my under-the-covers feet. I want a cat to sit on my face. I want to send my little sister cat memes, but I don't think I should cause she's on her mission.

I want to freakin hug a cat RIGHT NOW!!

The broken link from last post was supposed to say "booger."

My next fantasy team name is going to be "Risky Biscuits." Not originally mine, but I know genius when I see it. 

I want to go to St. Paul, Minneapolis to eat at the Nook, getting a juicy loosey burger. It would be a good honeymoon destination. I have no reason to be talking about honeymoons right now. We could stop in Des Moines, Iowa, for the Adam Emenecker challenge on the way. Also, St. Louis to get a Monte Cristo dog at the Iron Barley. 

Which reminds me... I totally have to wake up tomorrow morning and do some pig-in-the-blankets which are not totally NOT corned beef. I should probably go to bed soon...

Dream Journal

It finally happened!! I had a dream...

....where I was Batman.

Seriously! Complete with suit, muscles, and the voice of a chronic smoker. Except, I wasn't in Gotham City, I was at Danbury Elementary School, protecting a whole playground of kids from the possibility of Joker... who might not have even existed. I really wanted to join in on the kids' fun, but I was scared that justice just couldn't take a break. I eventually took action, but everything got really hazy at that point until I was no longer Batman but at a basketball game with some buddies.

Ok, for the basketball dream, I'm gonna have to use a certain 4 letter f word that may be offensive to some readers, so beware. And I am no longer Batman at this point in the dream, but still Batman in real life.
One of the players on the other team was an old roommate of mine from college who actually never played any sports with us but was quite good at throwing swing dance parties in the house. I was watching the game from the bench, and the only thing I remembered was him shooting a three-pointer and the gym getting dead silent as the ball was in the air--kind of like one of those dramatic basketball movie last-shot-to-win-it-all things... except as it was about halfway there, the said roommate let out a really sad sounding... fart. Sorry!!! When I say sad, I don't mean weak, but more of like a decrescendo minor key kind of thing, cause it was clearly audible to everyone who started laughing so much that I'm pretty sure I cried right on my pillow in real life. Then the shot went in, and I was like, "Should that count? I mean, he got a little boost..."

Why do guys find farts so funny? I mean, is it cultural or genetic? I think it's genetic and we just plum can't help it. I know one of my nephews already thinks it's freakin hilarious, and he's a bit too young to really let culture mold him too much. At least he knows it's inappropriate now to do it at the dinner table.

So I've always known that emotions are pronounced in dreams--at least they are in mine. I've been angrier, sadder, and happier in my dreams than I've ever been in real life (and I'm talking real REM dreams, not fantasizing) and now I think I've laughed harder than I ever have in real life. And I can say that if there was ever a time that undigested beef played a part in my subconscious like Scrooge claims it can, it was last night.

This is What My Blog Is Now

Have you ever said a word to yourself so many times that it becomes phonetically amusing? I'm sure you have. It's an experience we all should have. Therefore, try it with this word: http://192.20.225.36/tts/speech/ee1f6e675f915822e816795ae293edf8.wav

The Generator!!

My homemade curry is a bit disappointing tonight. And NO it's not cuz I'm eating it at 9:45 PM...
Anyways, I'm sitting here watching the Eastern Conference finals and the way Indiana is playing, I start thinking...

And then I was like, "Cool, I can make memes!"

So this is how my week went:

Well, now that I'm finishing up this meme business, the game really has swung in the Heat's favor. Point is moot. 

So here's one more just cause I had to throw it in there:

The Perks of Bachelorhood

I have been cooking a lot for myself. After tax season, it involved a lot of macaroni and broccoli, which started tasting progressively worse. Then I realized that an 8 dollar home made lasagna (the beef costs the most) lasts me half a week. So I decided I'm going to eat lasagna all the time. When I quoted those Conchords on my last Facebook about making a lasagna for one, I was being quite literal.

So here's to working towards six tons in my buns!!! Good luck recognizing me, family, next time you see me... through all the chins.

Reason for being a bachelor for life number 1: BACON 24/7!!

Dream Journal

This is all I can write about anymore that is in any way interesting. The edge of my life is dulled by monotonous hours of work and cartoon watching.

So the other day I had a dream that I was engaged to get married. Yup. Big knee slapper there. Anyways, I just had that feeling like, "Oh yeah, I finally did it!" and even though I didn't know who the lucky lady was (she could have actually been way more attractive than me, which would then make her unlucky?), I had that surreal feeling you might get when you win first prize in front of a huge crowd of adoring people and fans--and when I say huge crowd, I'm talking Marriot Center with standing room only.
The thing is, I was just walking around in the church building with a few of my acquaintances and feeling a little bit of stress on top of that elation. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had to be at some sort of welcoming party, like a reception but before the actual wedding. But even though I knew it was supposed to happen that night, I just kept meandering around and putting off getting ready for the whole shindig until I finally asked one of the oblivious acquaintances, "Hey, aren't I supposed to be at some sort of party tonight?"
He replied with something like, "Don't worry about that, man, it's too late anyways." Hmmph. So the stress was gone at least... but so was the elation.
Now, you may want to look more into this than you really should; see some kind of message for me or all the  stagnant bachelors in the church whathaveyou. Before you do that, let me give you one disclaimer:

 in this dream, I was actually Bilbo Baggins.

The First Saturday Night of the Month...

You know what the worst thing about watching TV is?
Seeing a KFC commercial after you've started your fast.

This is What I Want for Christmas

Just a poster or blanket with this picture on it:

A Stairwell and a Cupboard of Jars

On the news lately, a certain city in north Texas--a place called West, Texas--was devastated by the explosion of a fertilizer plant.
Most of you already know this, but I was born in West.
For what it's worth, I have no real memory of the place besides an old house with a staircase and a cupboard of jars. My older siblings will know the place better than I. We moved to Danbury when I was about three or so--at least, before I started going to school.
In fact, this is possibly a picture of the very home we lived in: http://trib.in/XU3fez.
I'll need dad to confirm this, but he already may have on Facebook.
Why do I bring this up? I don't know. It's really strange to think that such an obscure town would ever be on the national news, but there you have it.

Remember that "Game Show"?

Ok, so we're playing that quote game again, where you name where the quote is from. Since last one was so freaking hard, this time I'll at least give you a category.

"ALIEN INVASION"

1. "Everyone is trying to get out of Washington, and we're the only schmucks trying to get in."
2. "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow."
3. "Ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack."
4. "It's a little hotter than I remember. Has the Earth gotten warmer? It would be great to know that... that would be a very convenient truth."
5. "How do you know boards will do anything?" "Cause they seem to have a problem with pantry doors."
6. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."
7. "Don't answer him." "You will answer me." ... "I'd rather not choose sides."
8. "Why isn't anyone just whelmed?"
9. "Feel that? It's the gravitational pull of your average sun. Makes flying through space very dangerous. The bigger you are, the faster you burn. Gravity's a &@#*!"
10. "They're hugging. That's all these males ever do. That's why the females chuck 'em down here."
11. "Excuse me, can I have another order of fries? Because my friend here is fat." "Funny, Chompers! At least I don't need a booster seat."
12. "Hey! Hey! Hey! What the?!"
13. "For instance, on the planet Earth, Man had always assumed that he was the most intelligent species occupying the planet, instead of the third most intelligent. The second most intelligent creatures were of course dolphins who, curiously enough, had long known of the impending destruction of the planet earth."
14. "I don't like sand. It's course and rough and irritating... and it gets everywhere."
15. "I wonder if there really is life on other planets?" "What do you care? You don't have a life on this planet."  (ensuing familiar laughter)

One more hint for you: they ain't all movies.

Dream Journal

I got home from work the other day and sat down and fell asleep. Those late afternoon naps can produce some pretty trippy dreams.
This time it was... wait for it... The Hunger Cat Games!!
Oh how cliche, right!?
Tell you what, I don't recall the visuals of this one, but it came with this really catchy/annoying R&B song that  had the rap portion like, "Here's a little ditty about two little kitties who got together one day and played heroes in the city..." and then the singing chorus was like "Cuz it's the hunger cat games!! It sets the city a flame! So best remember these names! And watch the hunger cat games!"
Of course this means nothing to my readership without the melody, which is playing in my head and is phenomenal.
Speaking of melodies that I can't translate onto this blog...
Last night I had a few dreams. The first one was about being at a waterpark with some old high school friends only to have the power go out. And here comes a really tough visual so let's see how I can describe it... Imagine your typical rec-center pool with ceramic tiles and poor lighting. Make it big, like RB multiple pool big. And all the patrons of this indoor water park who weren't walking around with me were just chilling in these tiny one-person hot tub like things until the power came back on. It was like a bunch of people in a people-sized sea turtle farm, if you've ever been to one of those and know what I mean. Anyways, I decided to play billiards in this pool house--a pun which I failed to catch in the dream--and I was sorting through all the different billiards balls with a bunch of strangers before everything switched over to a dance club.
This is where the music comes in... later on.
So I was being really kinda mean and foul-mouthed in this dream, plus I had red hair. And I was talking to somebody when this chubby black kid got in front of me in the line for whatever it was we were lining up for. I got mad and may have called him a fat bleep. But keep reading!
He ran off crying.
BUT I felt so bad about it that I tracked him down after that dance class thing and found him walking through the building with a bag full of McDonalds.
The first thing I did was apologize. The next thing I did was take his bag of Mickey D's from him. Poor kid.
Can you believe there were six hamburgers in there? Plus a large fries!!! Not to mention the soda he had in his hand. Man, I was ready to do this kid a favor.
So I let him eat a few more burgers, and then I put the remainders on a bench and got out my lighter that I always carry with me cause I'm a red-headed bad A. I got up on the bench and lit the lighter underneath a sprinkler just like on the movies, and then told the kid, "Now watch what happens when these things get wet." And the sprinklers rained on the burgers and they just melted into brownish goo that made that poor kid and me in real life never want to eat McDonalds again.
And that's when the music started. I worked with that kid, from feeding him salads and tuna tetrazzini to switching his video games from Grand Theft Auto to NBA 2k13, and the music was like, "Step into tomorrow!!" and it showed him on that Biggest Loser montage thing go from chubby black kid to husky Native American teenager... weird.
Then I woke up feeling only slightly vindicated by the happy ending and much more worried about what I am watching on TV these days.

Sports Corner with a Dunce Cap

You know that Manti Te'o has been in the media too much when people are pronouncing Tuiasosopo without any problem.

Speaking of Manti, people are talking about how his draft stock is dropping so much. A defensive Heisman candidate not going in the first round? Really?
I agree.
I think we can learn a lot from the whole girlfriend hoax, and not so much about Te'o's judgment but about his passion.
I served in a poly ward for three months on the mission, and I witnessed firsthand how the chapel walls shook when they sang their hymns at church. They are an exceptionally emotional people. Sure, Te'o is a different kind of poly, but because of the association, I started wondering when the whole hoax blew up on the media...

Would Manti have done so well without the emotional motivation?

A tragic girlfriend may have just lit the fire under Te'o that propelled him to his incredible season. Take that away with a dash of embarrassment and you get a less than par performance against Alabama--and subsequently at the NFL combine.

Te'o must have felt like a super-hero during the regular season--not so much to Notre Dame or even the college football world--but to his faux girlfriend on her deathbed. Who's he gonna be a hero for now? Where will he find similar motivation?

Never underestimate the power of emotions on the football field... right 49ers, Patriots, Broncos, or any opponent who played the Ravens in the post-season?

You know who doesn't play with much emotion? White people. Not to be racist or anything, but if there is one position that you think needs an emotionless demeanor what do you think it is? Quarterback? Where mistakes can be so costly and glaringly YOUR FAULT, one has to be able put their emotions away after a mistake and continue to perform. Thus quarterback remains the one position (besides kicker) that is still mostly white.

The Tale of Ajziou

Here is a fictional story I wrote from my creative writing class of '09... or was it '10? I can't even remember anymore. Anyways, before you read, I must give a few disclaimers:

A. If you must look for a message in a story that may hint a little too much of giving a message, it is not in any way anti-faith. I myself am a man of faith, though I have not always been one. I know what it feels like to have God in your life voluntarily vs involuntarily.

2. If you must read into the characters more than I meant you to, know that if I was to represent any one of them, it would be the Wizard and NOT ALFRED!! That being said, you are to relate to these characters in your individual way. Destroy the author and read on at your own risk.

III. It is a bit lengthier than my usual posts, so make sure your not in a tight spot for time as you might have a hard time walking away from such a gripping story.

Four: Leave your literary criticisms to the dogs. They are better writers than me anyways.

So, without further adoodoo, here's one of my very first shots at complete fiction:

The Tale of Ajziou and the Day of Forgetfulness

            There once lived an old and wise and perhaps crazy man who tired of tax collectors and telemarketers, so he declared himself a “wizard” and straightly left modern society to dwell by himself in the mountains of Montana. Unfortunately, if one finds himself wise and wizardly, there is often a congregation who call themselves his “disciples.” Thus it was that in his quest for solitude, this wizard found himself followed by a few scores of somewhat dim, yet ever faithful disciples. They founded a colony cut off from the rest of the world, and when they approached him to know what the town should be named, he simply sneezed and turned away about his own business once again. Thus the town was named, “Ajziou.”

            Among these somewhat dim, yet ever faithful disciples was a simple man named Alfred. He was in all senses very plain, he and his father having lived in a modest hovel and gardening lemons that they would distribute to the rest of this community called Ajziou. Every day Alfred would go about his business, following the same routine with carefulness: awaking before the sun to prune the lemon trees before the morning dew even dissipated. Then he would make his rounds through the community, collecting whatever things were necessary to collect in order to maintain a small plantation of citrus fruits in Montana (which may seem improbable, but do remember that the town is governed by a wizard, which governing seems to override any natural laws that were necessary to be overridden). All these necessities were provided freely by the other community members, for the wizard had forbidden any financial medium of any sort. In fact, the wizard allowed the people to live under his watch on very peculiar conditions. He enacted laws and forbade much of what was common to man, including celebrations of any sort after the setting of the sun, competitive foot-races, jokes that belittled one’s mother, and romance of any sort. The wizard attached great shame to the breaking of any of his rules, and the somewhat dim, yet ever faithful disciples followed these rules with unflinching zeal.

Alfred was particularly careful not to be the first caught in excruciating shame, however painful it might be to him to follow these rules, for painful it was indeed. As mentioned before, romance of any type was forbidden (for the wizard considered the world overpopulated as it was). Yet with every daily trip, what brought Alfred more joy than anything else was his stop at the store of jars of water, where he would take his allotment of jars of water from a most interesting hostess. Actually, she was quite plain, but Polluxa, the store’s hostess, was always there with that special smile she reserved only for the stalwart Alfred. He never ceased to think of her, thinking that to let her image escape his mind would take her from him for an eternity, or at least until the next day when he would collect water from her again.

The exchange was the same every day, as only a few hours after dawn he would walk in and give her the same greeting.

“Hello,” he would say.

“Good morning,” she would reply.

Then she would smile, and a very flushed Alfred would concentrate hard on his feet as he swiftly collected his jars of water and left in a hurry, not even breathing until the store door was closed behind him. With that gasp of air, he would smile as well, knowing that there was great meaning to his otherwise dim, yet ever faithful life. How it tortured him, every day, to see her and avoid that great taboo of love or affection or passion or crush or any sort of nomenclature that the whimsical poet would attach to such desire.

This continued for several years in the community of Ajziou. Every citizen did their part, and every citizen heeded the strict and arbitrary code of the wizard. Then one day, the wizard called a gathering of his somewhat dim, yet ever faithful disciples.

“My people, gather around and speak not a word, for your wizard wishes to further impose his knowledge upon you,” said the wizard to his people.

“Years have passed, and you have been ever faithful to the code that has kept us in  harmony and out of each other’s personal space and most of all, a very dull and boring people.”

At this declaration, the people felt to cheer, but resisted knowing the wizard had mandated silence.

“For your strict adherence to this code, I seek to reward you and curse you at the same time. I grant you all a day in which the rules of this community may be forgotten!”

At this, the people audibly gasped and looked about, as if the reactions of their peers would confirm that the wizard had spoken such blasphemy against himself.

The wizard continued, “Now, I understand that you may have been taught things regarding inescapable shame relating to the breaking of these rules, but I have prepared for this as well. I, the most powerful wizard in the land, shall cast a spell of forgetfulness which will cause you to forget any shame by the time you rise in the morning for the next day.”

Now the shock of the somewhat dim, yet ever faithful disciples turned slowly to interest, then acceptance, then to celebration, and it only took over five minutes for the people to begin shouting for joy and praising the name of the good wizard for his merciful and whimsical acts, but by that time, the wizard had already had his fill of the crowd and was no longer found among them.

The people chatted amongst themselves now, working up in their conversation a day full of the most rampant and anarchistic intentions. Only a few hours stood between them and their blessed day of unprecedented autonomy. For Alfred, there was but one thought: Polluxa. As he thought about her, he soon found that his feet were carrying him to that very store in which he had already visited her that day.

There he soon stood at her door, wondering how his feet had seemed to have taken him there without his permission. There he was nonetheless, so he raised his hand to knock on the door, but hesitated. The day of forgetfulness had not yet been forgotten, so it was still forbidden for him to approach Polluxa about any intentions of romance. Then again, he was only going to ask her to set aside some time for the morrow to…  meet. A simple meeting was harmless enough, wasn’t it?

It was now late in the evening, and Alfred continued to struggle with this dilemma when suddenly the door opened and there stood Polluxa, preparing to retire the night. She was surprised a little by this man on her doorstep, but only a little. She chose to be shocked by few things in her life.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good evening,” she replied.

With that, she shut the door behind her and walked off toward her house, leaving a dumbstruck Alfred on the front step. Perhaps it had been the light, but he was sure she had given him that same smile, only there was more of a hint to it this time—at least there was more of something, right?

That fateful day of forgetfulness was born like any other day. At the rising of the sun, Alfred was already about his work, doing his normal duties as he figured lemons still had to follow natural laws, even on a day when all canonical laws were void.

The rest of the town woke as if on any other day, and the people went about their somewhat dim, yet ever faithful business as usual. Alfred felt no different until he went up to the door of Polluxa to collect his allotment of jars of water.

He walked in, but before he could say, “Hello,” he noticed there was a dark haired man there with her. He was leaning against the wall and speaking casually with her. Apparently, not everyone felt that they had to go about their usual duties.

At the sight of Alfred, the dark haired man promptly excused himself and left the store quickly. Alfred stood there for a moment with a puzzled look on his face as he studied the floor, wondering what this meant.

“Good morning,” she said.

Alfred quickly looked up and smiled, then, without a word, went about his business and collected his jars of water as usual. On his way out, he was so out of sorts that he dropped one of the jars for the first time ever, shattering it on the floor and spilling its liquid contents all over the floor.

Before Alfred could even react, Polluxa was there with a mop and a bucket, first collecting the pieces of glass and placing them in the bucket. Alfred muttered an apology and began to help pick up the shards of glass. The task seemed impossible, which was comforting to Alfred as he had an excuse to stay longer in her presence.

“Don’t worry, it happens quite often,” came Polluxa’s clear reply as they took care of the larger shards.

Alfred stooped to place what seemed to be the last piece of glass in the bucket, and with a sigh of feigned relief, he stood and faced Polluxa. She gave him that smile again, at least for an instant, and then she had the mop in her hand and was about her business, wiping the floor and spreading the water out so that it would not be hazardous to anyone who came in.

That smile. For once, Alfred returned it, even if Polluxa didn’t notice. With a great feat of courage, Alfred spoke to her:

“What do you usually do when you’re done here?”

“Oh, I clean the store and then just head home to my family. Nothing real special,” she said as she continued to mop.

“And is that your plan for tonight as well?”

“I don’t know, perhaps I will run about after the sun goes down and start loud and gawdy conversations with everyone I see!”

This act was surely forbidden—at least on any other day.

A moment passed, and Polluxa continued to mop and Alfred continued to stand there. Eventually, she looked up, gave him that smile again, and then went about her business once more. Once again, Alfred’s spirits soared.

“Polluxa,” he said, and the name fell awkwardly from his lips, yet the saying of it alone gave him a thrill that he had never before experienced in his life.

She paused from her mopping and looked him in the eye, “Yes, Alfred?”

Alfred swallowed, and then smiled like a drunken maniac, “Why not we spend the evening together?”

“Why not?”

Alfred was puzzled, for her answer hinted neither towards acceptance or denial of his invitation. He had invited her, right? The conversation was becoming difficult to recall, and all his thoughts were muddled. He knew his face must have been absolutely crimson as he began to rapidly lose his stamina for conversations with others.

He gave up on his quest, and picked up his jars of water, but for some reason he mindlessly placed one in the bucked of broken glass and took that up in his arm as if it was part of his daily pull from the store. He walked out the door, but didn’t get far.

“Alfred,” Polluxa called from within the store.

He turned, perhaps a bit too swiftly as he nearly lost another of his jars.

“Yes?”

“You don’t need to take that bucket.”

Alfred’s expression quickly fell. Another dashed hope.

“Of course,” he said.

“It’s alright. Why don’t you just return it at sundown tonight. Right here.”

It took Alfred a moment to realize the meaning of what she had just said, but only a moment. With a smile and an almost-laugh (the sort of laugh that seems to escape you when a vast amount of excitement has hit you more suddenly than a cannon ball to your unsuspecting stomach), he nodded vigorously and said, “Ok.”

In his excitement, he only dropped one more jar of water on his trip home.

There were still many hours until sundown. The town of Ajziou still seemed hesitant to indulge in those activities that it had been deprived of for a few years now. Eventually, the people began to congregate outside the wizard’s curiously shaped house—a small cylindrical building with no windows and one door—in order to seek his wisdom and guidance on this strange day. Perhaps some of them were even seeking reassurance that their plans were still fair game by the wizard’s standards, but his door remained adamantly closed. Presently, the waiting people became restless, and a wrestling match began, followed by a choir, and then an absolutely scandalous love-making fest, and then by all sorts of unrestrained anarchy. By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, the people of Ajziou were in an uproar that would put any Mardi Gras to shame. People gathered from all over the town to this one spot directly outside the wizard’s house as if he lorded over the revelry with his edict of lawlessness.

One man did not join the congregation, but instead waited across town right outside the store that distributed jars of water with a bucket of broken glass in his hand. Alfred went over his plans for the evening in his head again and again, but felt more as if Death was waiting behind that door than his blessed Polluxa.

The sun had already been down for an hour or so when he heard his name.

“Alfred?” Polluxa called from behind him.

He quickly turned around to greet her, a bit surprised that she wasn’t inside the shop.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good evening,” she replied, and walked up to him and took the bucket and set it just inside the door. Then she closed it behind her and turned around and looked at him.

“Well, what shall we do now?” she asked.

“Uh—perhaps we can go for a walk?”

The next morning Alfred woke up very tired, for he had gotten little sleep the night before. He hummed contentedly to himself as the previous day’s memories made his steps lighter and his mood brighter. It wasn’t until he began to prune the lemon trees that he realized this was a bad thing.

He hadn’t forgotten! The laws were now in full force once again, and the shame of the previous day’s activities began to crash down upon him and burn his naïve little conscience.

The pruning of the lemon trees became a very difficult task. The thought of going about the day’s activities and facing the townsfolk became daunting. He would have to collect jars of water from Polluxa as usual. Oh, Polluxa! How could he ever face her again?

Eventually, he found his feet taking him automatically there as they had done for so many years. He walked in, this time without a “Hello.”

She did not meet his eye. Instead, she found the floor unusually fascinating today.

“Polluxa,” he said.

She looked up. Without even the hint of a smile, she said, “Yes?”

Without even thinking of the consequences, he quickly asked, “Do you remember? Yesterday?”

She looked honestly puzzled, “What are you talking about, sir?”

“Yesterday? Do you remember doing anything—with me?”

Still looking puzzled, she shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“The wizard’s spell worked for you then?”

“What spell?”

“He cast a spell—a spell of forgetfulness, so we wouldn’t remember what we did yesterday.”

She gave him a smile, but this time there was nothing special about it, “I suppose it did.”

Alfred couldn’t believe it. It seems the spell had worked, just not for him. What had he done wrong?

He left the store in a panic and returned home, shirking the rest of the day’s activities. He huddled in a corner of his house, going over in his head again and again what had happened, starting from the previous evening up to the disastrous present.

Eventually he came up with a plan. He delivered a whole basket of lemons to the wizard on a weekly basis. The wizard was fond of his lemons, so an early visit should please him immensely. He gathered a basket of lemons and headed for the wizard’s home.

            He stood there a moment after he dropped the usual basket of a dozen or so lemons on doorstep of the curiously shaped house of the wizard. After summing up his courage, he finally knocked on the door.

            Almost immediately, the wizard answered as he usually did, and with a short “Thank you,” took the basket, turned, and shut the door as quickly as he had answered.

            Alfred had to sum up his courage again before he knocked a second time. This time there was no answer. A third knock, and still no sign of reaction from within.

            Alfred was about to leave until he thought once again of returning to his normal life, bearing that awful shame from yesterday. The thought was more unbearable than facing the most powerful man in Ajziou, and so he opened the door and stepped inside.

            The interior of the home was very peculiar. The small circular room was completely surrounded by glass casing in which there was an aquatic scene, with live aquatic creatures.

            On the center of the room was a desk, and at that desk the wizard was writing something, seemingly oblivious to Alfred’s intrusion. Stacks of paper covered the face of the small desk, as if the wizard did nothing but write behind the walls of his own home. Alfred quickly noticed a knife on the desk as well as a glass bottle of some sort of red liquid. Beside the wizard’s desk on the floor was the newly acquired basket of lemons, and he momentarily paused from his writing to take one, cut it in half with the knife, and pour some of the red liquid on it. The wizard began to suck on this decorated lemon and continued to write for a while before Alfred realized that he was either being ignored, or the man had not yet noticed his presence.

            “Sir... Mr. Wizard, sir...” he said.

            The wizard looked up abruptly from his writings. “Oh dear, there is someone in my house!”

            “Forgive me, but I must speak with you,” said Alfred.

            The wizard waited a very long, awkward moment before responding, “As you can see, I’m very busy. You must say what you are here to say in fifteen words or less.”

            Alfred was puzzled by this, and for a moment began to work his message over in his head.

            “Um...”

            “Fourteen.”

            “What?”

            “Thirteen.”

            Alfred took a breath, and then walked down the steps to directly face the man at the desk.

            “Your spell did not work on me.”

            The wizard waited another long moment, counting the words on his fingers, before saying, “What spell?”

            “The spell of forgetfulness. I have not forgotten my actions from yesterday,” said Alfred.

            “A spell of forgetfulness? Well, I must have forgotten all about it. Remind me what it was all about.”

            “You promised us a day in which the rules would be dismissed, and afterward a spell of forgetfulness would cause us all to live on without the shame.”

            The wizard mulled this over in his mind for a bit: “Did I now? Well, I suppose I am more clever than I remember.”

            “Please, you must help me forget what I did yesterday. I can’t bare to go on with such... memories!”

            “Hmph,” said the wizard, “If the spell did not work then, I don’t think it will work this time for you either.”

            “Then there is nothing you can do?”

            The wizard shrugged, “Probably not.”

Alfred sat on floor and bowed his head in despair. In a moment of seeming lucidity, the wizard had compassion on the young man, and rose from his desk to walk over and sit next to him.

“My boy, I really love lemons with hot sauce. I am old and little else can reach my taste buds anymore. People may think I am odd, but I am not ashamed of the things I love.”

“That sounds disgusting,” muttered Alfred, without raising his head.

“That’s not the point. The point is that pointy thing that you are supposed to stumble upon yourself in a moment of rare… undimness. You know, draw your own conclusion sort of thing.”

Alfred looked up, “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like lemons with hot sauce, and this house may not be your ordinary house, but I think it’s clever and I built it with my own hands, and they all ask me ‘Why don’t you have a bed to sleep in’, and I assure them that the desk works fine and I must be practical.”

“Wait,” said a skeptical Alfred, “You built this place yourself?”

“Why not?”

“You’re a bit old for manual labor.”

“My boy, I am a wizard. But the train is running off the tracks. Let’s try to get back to the pointy thing. Remember, you are having a hard time from shame, yet I tell you to not be ashamed of what you love.”

“But you were the one who mandated the laws! You were the one who forbade that which I loved! You were the one that promised such unbearable shame! How could you say…”

The wizard threw his hands up in innocence, “My boy, I didn’t force misery on anybody. Before you accuse me of all sorts of villany, let me tell one thing. Or maybe a few things. I gave the people these laws mostly so they would stay out of my hair, and only somewhatly for the purpose of watching strange specimens in a strange situation. People are very strange specimens, no? Anyways, one law I deliberately never arbitrated upon you people was the one saying, ‘You must remain here and abide by my arbitrary whims’, so if you must pin your misery on me, than by all means leave this absurd community and be miserable elsewhere. Do spare me and yourself, though. I rather enjoy your lemons. I prefer their company to most people’s, actually.”

Alfred’s emotions quickly cooled, and he soon found that he was shaken by this conversation with the man who he had followed religiously these past few years. He was shaken, yet strangely comforted.

“I do love the lemons,” said the wizard, “so do keep up the good work. Then again, you don’t have to, do you?”

Alfred’s only reply was, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Mr. wizard, sir.”

Alfred returned to his house—his simple house, with his simple father, and his simple lemons. He asked his father to take over the business of collecting jars of water, not daring to explain why. His father agreed, but a few days went by and his father suddenly disappeared, leaving the whole lemon business to Alfred alone.

These disappearances were occurring regularly now, leaving only the dimmest and most faithful disciples still in the town of Ajziou. Reluctantly, Alfred returned to the routes of collections to keep the lemons going, which brought him once more to the doorstep of the store where jars of water were distributed.

He walked in, and without looking up, said, “Hello.”

There was no reply. The store was vacant.