Years Mean Nothing?

I've written on this subject before, so consider this another witness to how consistent my philosophies are... or rather how unoriginal I am at the moment.
Sitting in a waiting room of a children's clinic and having forgotten to bring a Calvin and Hobbes along to keep me occupied, I shuffled around in my car to try and find some reading material to keep me entertained. Wouldn't you know I had my old journals in there from 2004 to 2008, documenting most of my time in Provo and on the mission. I read a few entries before I had to put the thing down in disgust.
How pointless! How juvenile! How vague and circumstantial! I felt like I should destroy the two or three notebooks of handwritten events in order to destroy any evidence that I was ever such a terrible writer and philosopher!
Again it reinforces the idea that living in the present is so much better than wishing for the past. Even as I went to go pick the kids up from the very same elementary school I attended as a youngling, I hardly felt nostalgic. The smell of that place never changes, and smell brings back memories like no other sense, but it only twinged my nostalgic heartstrings. I am glad I am here now, with all the added responsibilities, expectations, and disappointments of life.
Memories are nice, but only to be remembered and not relived and stuff.

Cabin Fever

The captain of the "Soul" looked out over the foggy sea and mused to himself as a dozen cliches passed through his mind... They had been out to sea now for nearly three months. The men were growing restless and the rations were receding along with the captain's hairline. The captain looked up but this biting fog shrouded even the stars in the heavy dark of the night sky.
At least we're not going in the wrong direction, the captain mused to himself.
"Wicked fog this evenin'."
The captain was startled by the sudden appearance of his first mate by his side. What a strange accent the man had...
"Minds me of the time we lost harf the crew off the coasts of Madagascur on account of leaky life boats..."
"Stow it!" snapped the captain, "I've heard that a dozen times before. You're like a broken record that knows exactly when to annoy me the most by interrupting my... musings."
The first mate was a bit taken aback. The captain surely did love to muse these days. In fact, did he do much else besides muse?
"I suppose you'll be breakin into a musical number next about having what they call, 'cabin fever'?" the captain said.
"No, I was more just comin up topside to invite you down below. The crew be gettin ready to play 'nother tournament of Stratego and we know it's not the same without ye."
The captain thought for a moment. He did love the games...
"No thanks. I've got some more reading and musing to do."
He pulled out the pocket watch with the cliche picture of his beloved above the timekeeping piece. It was a strange watch... it counted backwards as if time reverted itself every time the captain decided to pay attention to it. Ironically or perhaps not so ironically, the watch and the picture were both obscured by the condensation which settled on the glass surfaces almost immediately. It could have been from the captains breath in the frigid air, but it was more likely from the heavy moisture that smothered the atmosphere. Where would she be now after three months at sea? The captain couldn't even picture her face.
The first mate was already heading back under the deck when the captain asked aloud, "Does not the wind typically kick up after such a dense fog?"
The first mate stopped in his tracks, "Huh? You know I don't know a first thing about sailin' or wheather tellin' cap. Should I have the men run out some oars?"
The captain closed the watch and put it back in his pocket. Once again, he looked to the sky as if the last few moments could have dispelled the shroud that hid the heavens.
"Not until I can see the stars again."
The Soul was dead in the dead water. Not even the faint decklamps creaked in their rusty rungs for no wind had blown for two months. The captain began to move toward his quarters with the intention of losing himself in his books for another week or so.

And To Think I'm an Eagle Scout!

Contrary to my Facebook status, I can't say I woke up this morning looking like Quasimoto. That would insinuate that I actually slept... at all.
This whole poison oak deal turned out worse than my last post suggested. This stuff really just keeps on giving, so you never know just how bad you can get when the little red bumps first appear until they all start oozing! Hopefully you weren't eating when you read that last part.
I'll try to describe just how I look right now... think Harry Potter who got hit in the face with Hermione's stinging jinx. Think Hitch eating too much shellfish. Think Goonies.
Or rather, just check it out yourself:

Halloween comes early this year in the Martin's home. If this sticks around, I won't even have to dress up! Course, that whole Halloween dance thing is way out of the picture too.

And will somebody get these freakin' Nylons out of my head!!

and stuff

Poison Oak'd

We're in Exodus for institute, so I read about all the plagues that happened to Egypt and I was like, "I wanna have an in depth experience where I can relate to those Egyptians!" So I went and got myself covered in boils... itchy boils.
I've had poison oak two other times in my life. Luckily it's not as personal as chigger bites, but the effects are much more comprehensive with my arms and face. Now my nose is swollen and red. Can't wait for institute tomorrow!
You know, noses are funny things. Have you ever considered a nose independent of all other features on a face? It's really a funny little gadget. This is a great technique if you ever want to unattract yourself from a certain someone. Focus real hard on their nose!
Well, I gotta go try and sleep now. Ben-a-drill can really knock you out, so I'm banking on it to trump the feeling of a thousand mosquitoes feasting on my sunburnt skin.
And stuff.

Class Is In Session

If you had a pet pony, what would you name it?

A. Captain America
B. Sparkles
C. Equus Caballus
D. Ponies are for sissies... I bought a pet snake!

If you chose option A, you got sorted into the house of jocks, also known as Griffindor. Everybody wants to be a Griffindork, so congratulations!
If you chose option B, you got sorted into the house of leftovers (or maybe stoners...), also known as Hufflepuff. (Get it? Puff?) This is my house, of course*.
If you chose option C, you got sorted into the house of nerds, also known as Ravenclaw. I guess Hermione was just too cool for this house, hangin out with Mr. Popular and his plus one all the time.
If you chose option D, you got sorted into the house of goths, also known as Slitherin. I'm not sure I spelled that right... Slytherin? Anyways, congratulations, you're probably evil.

I was just thinking the other day... I'm grateful for the people who treat me bad in life. Otherwise I wouldn't have any faces to put on the Fernands, Kerrigors, Toraks, Ishamaels, Pyncheons, Iagos, and Voldemorts in my books. I'll give 1000 house points to whoever can match these antagonists to their respective series.

*Disclaimer: This is not in reference to the whole "stoner" bid, promise!

The Most Creative Game Ever Invented

So, I go on these long trips with my oldest brother's family to see my nephews play their junior league football games. On these long trips, we have a lot of fun playing whatever crazy games Uncle Todd can think up. So me and Peppermint Dragon played this awesome game that I'm pretty sure is the most creative game you could possibly play... well, at least it takes second after Calvinball.

I call it: THE SECOND MOST CREATIVE GAME EVER INVENTED!!!

Here's how you play: you think of a "What if..." question that's completely off the charts random. Then the other person has to respond with their own completely off the charts random "What if" question.
Example:

Todd: "What if I flexed my muscles and the world exploded?"

P. Dragon: "What if I had leprechauns in my pants?"

Todd: "What if our church building was made out of jell-o?"

P. Dragon: "What if I had teeth in my nose?"

And so forth.
Now, there are a few ways in which you can lose.
A. Actually responding to a "What if" question. Sometimes, it's really hard to resist this one when I ask something like, "What if every time someone sneezed, silver fire came out of my ears?" I mean, you'd want to answer that question, but as soon as you say something other than "What if" to start your turn, BUZZ!!! You lose!

B. Unoriginality. Wow, that word didn't get a red squiggly line under it! Anyways, when a player says something that is basically a regurgitation of your last "What if" then BUZZ, losify him (or her)! "What if cat meant dog?" "What if hot meant cold?" BUZZ, same concept, same structure= busted!

C. Unoriginality part deux. Sometimes, someone might try to sneak something in from a movie or something: "What if I cut down the largest tree in the forest with a herring!" BUZZZ!!! Who can name that movie! (Also, the "cat meant dog" one was from a movie, so I should've gotten buzzed by my opponent there, but he didn't catch on.)

D. Taking too long... if they can't think of a "What if" before you fall asleep from boredom, then BUZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz....

So these are the rules for the Second Most Creative Game Ever Invented. It's fun and stuff. I think you should try it on really long car trips with someone having less brains than you, cause it makes you feel really funny, smart, and BADDABING creative!!

Every Which Way

So I was sitting around thinking about what it would be like to be a bag of hot nickels, when it occurred to me... my computer froze up in Utah because it was so cold there. Then it froze on me here and that whole theory went debunkt... which is probably not a word. So I started writing my letter to Santa, asking for the usual bo-staff and Sham-wow. Then I wanted to blog about all those nay-sayers that thought my social life would go to the pits after I returned home... let me assure, I have made EXCELLENT friends... with my cats... and with NetFlix. Then I weighed myself and the scale pronounced me the heaviest I have ever been in my life: 151 lbs. Geck!! Maybe I should stop eating midnight snacks thrice a midnight. That might cure the increasingly odd dreams too... I'm just making this up as I go, really. "That's bad blog writing, Petey!!"