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Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Phantom Face Hair

             This guy gave a talk in church on Sunday. This particular gentleman, if you ever ask him how he's doing, will always tell you "Mean and onery." Every time. No, I'm not exaggerating. EVERY TIME. HE HAS BEEN SAYING THAT PHRASE FOR AT LEAST 20 YEARS. I say that because I remember that I went to their house that many years ago with my mom for some reason, and he said that same thing. Isn't that weird? I think it is. Sometimes when I run into him, I ask him how he's doing just for fun, and then say the phrase with him in unison because I know it's coming. Maybe he thinks that's weird.
             Now it's Tuesday. I'm at work. I ate ramen noodles a couple hours ago. I am getting so sick of ramen noodles. I know what you're saying. "Well, why don't you pack a lunch or something?" Quite difficult. You see, I'm at school from 9 until 3, and there's no fridge at school to place perishables in. Yes, there's probably other ways around it, like keeping food at work. AW, WHO CARES. This five hour shift is the shortest shift of the week for me, but for some reason, it feels like the LONGEST. I don't know why. I only get one 15 minute break. My teacher texted me and wants to meet with me tomorrow in his office. Maybe he's kicking me out of the PTA program. There's a particular girl in my class that has this tendency of asking me questions every once in awhile, and then apparently not having the attention span to listen to what I have to say when I answer her. It's odd. I thought I had a short attention span. Oh my goodness, there's only 10 minutes left in this shift. I'm going to go home and eat ice cream pie with the wif and the babelet. Nom! My teacher gave out goodies today that he's picked up at various Physical Therapy conventions. I got a "spine & pelvis" keychain." Pretty freakin sweet. Although the pelvis is missing the ischium. That made me kinda mad. You don't even know what the ischium is, do you? DO YOU?!?! No, I'm kidding, you probably do. How dare I assume that you don't know a particular anatomical structure. Also, I got a little green foam ball that says "HEALTH PLAN OF NEVADA, INC." I love this ball. It prevents me from picking my fingernails. This has been a sporadic entry, I know. I just want to go home. The end.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Foam Overdose


There are many u's in that word. Many you's. There are many of you. You are not one but many.

I just sneezed. I'm coming down with something. Not up. Down. I did know a guy who came up with something. It was a brilliant plan, really. But the execution of it failed.

I helped a lady find her dog today. Yesterday, I ditched out on giving blood. Such a terrible thing, to sign up for a blood drive and then not go. I can't do it. I don't want to pass out. I would gladly sacrifice my mortal fluid for another... another day.

I just finished typing up my mission journals. It was a long and memorable journey through them. One time, I was playing "Capture the Flag" with NERF guns with my district at our apartment. Our opponents base was upstairs. There was a door sitting by itself by our entryway. Just a door. Not connected to anything. I don't know why. But it was always there. I got the idea to go up the stairs while shielding myself with the door so I couldn't be assassinated with NERF darts (kind of reminds me of The Two Towers when all those uruk-hai are marching up to Helm's Deep covered by their shields). I made it almost the whole way up without being shot, and then Elder James Martin, bless his little heart, decides to kick the door. Fortunately, I didn't go flying down the stairs, but the door did smash me in the face, causing a great deal of pain and giving me a scary black eye that I'm pretty sure, along with my recent buzzcut, frightened people away whenever I tried to contact them in parking lots. Elder Martin was heard to say after the incident, "I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!" Ha ha. Excellent. He's right though. What other choice would you have in that situation? I applaud him for taking initiative in such a high pressure situation. If anybody wants to read my mission journals, let me know kids. The other journals are off limits, but I am willing to share my mission journals if people desire to view them. They're really not that exciting, but you get to experience first-hand what a terrible missionary I was and how immature missionaries (including myself) are, as indicated by the above-mentioned story.

I know nobody reads this anymore... I'm having a lame day and I need to write. I just ate some ramen noodles. Such a nutritionless substance. I'm at work and I'm not supposed to be blogging. I don't think.