Blog Every Day April

A Halloween How-To: Scaring Children

2009-10-31T11:12:00.000-04:00

Scaring children is perhaps the most important thing a person can do on Halloween. It’s a way to set the boundaries of the neighborhood, telling kids that they shan’t be roaming the streets like the feral beasts that they are, urinating on fire hydrants and digging holes in your yard. Not to mention it is a tradition dating back to the very beginning of Halloween, when angry beaten Irish mothers would tell their children to behave or the Great Potato of All Hallows’ Even would bust in their knee caps, rendering the child incapable of praying.

Now I bet you’re asking yourself, “How hard can it be to scare little children on a night as frightening and dark as Halloween?” I would gladly explain if you would only stop interrupting me with your schizophrenic outbursts. Though you may think it to be a simple process, it is actually an intricate system comprised of different preparations based on the children’s race, gender, religion, personality, affiliations, and perhaps occupation (if you’re scaring in the 1940’s).

Here enclosed are some tips, tricks and situational practices for you to review before you partake in the Halloween tradition of scaring children.

COMMON CHILDREN-
SCARING TACTICS

The “JUST TAKE ONE PLEASE”
This is easily the most successful way to scare a child. Begin with placing a treat no child can resist (like, an apple or maybe some pennies?) in an unmonitored bucket on your front porch. This is what is known as the “bait.” Place a note on or near the bucket explaining that you’re not home because your eczema is flaring up and you had to go to the hospital. Furthermore, express to the children that they can only have ONE (be sure to bold, cap, italicize and underline this to show you mean it) treat. Since no child can resist not only disregarding an adult’s orders, but having a crap load of candy, they will almost 99% of the time take more than ONE treat. You WANT this to happen, because it leads to Phase Two of your diabolical plan.

Although your note to the snot-nosed ones claims you are at the hospital, you must remain at your home (this is called LYING and is the base of all pranks and scaring of children, so get used to it), hiding in the shadows and observing the bucket. Once you see a child taking more than their fair share, you must act swiftly and quietly. Follow the child while remaining in the darkness, and wait for your time to strike. When their bag of Halloween goodies is unguarded, swoop in and take back the extra candy from them. Place a note in the bag explaining you had been watching the whole time and that you reclaimed what is rightfully yours, and mention how you “got them good” and that they are no match for the wit and will of a grown-up. Throw in that they’re adopted and no one loves them for good measure.

Don’t feel bad. The child deserves it and your harsh, publisher-like criticism will force them to reevaluate their life and they will realize how unruly they were. This is probably the first time the child has been self-aware of their actions, and it is FRIGHTENING. Good job.

“THE MISSING BIKE”
In this elaborate ruse, you must target a child to be scared. Ideally, this child should have a bike, so it is best to stake out your target a few days prior to be sure they have one. Then on Halloween night, break into the garage and take the bicycle. After that, dispose of it properly via car compactor, local riverbed, or give it to your niece as a belated birthday gift.

When the child returns home after a fun night of trick-but-mostly-treat-getting and notices the absence of the bike, they will begin to cry alone in the street. This is when you walk over to the depressed child and ask why they are so sad. After listening to his or her incoherent babbling, assure the kid that it will turn up eventually. After giving them this tidbit of false hope, suggest alerting the proper authorities. Once a police report is filed and things seem to be taking a turn for the better, break out some false statistic about how only 3% of missing bikes are ever found. This will upset the child again. Go on to say that they can never trust the police because they are bad at their jobs. Feel free to instill distrust toward the federal government too (the earlier the better, am I right?).

On that note, leave the child. Now that he or she knows that there is no higher authority to put trust in, the child will lose faith in society and become insecure of their surroundings. Perfect. The child will not be able to sleep ever again, because you have impressed FEAR and UNCERTAINTY in them.

“THE ARNOLD PALMER”
Dress up as Arnold Palmer on Halloween night. Sit out on your front porch and wait for kids to come up to you wanting candied treats. If one of the ignorant children asks who you are supposed to be, answer the question truthfully. They will most likely reply with, “Who is that?” If that happens, rest assured everything is going as planned. Explain who Arnold Palmer was: pro golfer, 2-time winner of the British Open, 92 victories, and other fun facts. Odds are, if you are boring enough, the children will be completely disinterested, and state, “Golf is boring.” This is when you strike! Say, “Well, maybe it is boring to you now, but when you’re older, you will enjoy it.” The children will then proceed to run away screaming at the top of their lungs.

Terrifying, is he not?

The “UN-HAUNTED HOUSE”
Fix up your garage as a haunted house for Halloween night. Put a sign up enticing locals to come see it if they dare. You should dress up accordingly: Frankenstein, Dracula, or Arnold Palmer… any of those will do fine. Use fog machines and strobe lights outside to get them on edge and also to weed out the epileptic kids. This is where you must gather a group of them outside and start selling your haunted house as the scariest thing ever. Be sure to get their hopes up really high (don’t be afraid to throw in some lies here).

Now, when the garage door opens, the kids will find the entire haunted house destroyed. Surely their disappointment will be palpable. You must act surprised, and say “It must have been my pet puma! He is always ruining my haunted houses!” The children will understand, as they know how ornery pumas can be. You know you’ve done a good job of disappointing them when one kid says, “This is Halo 3 all over again!”

The children will go on with their night, unable to shake the cloud of letdown over their heads. Nothing will be fun, and the night, ruined. Seeking solace, the children will ask their parents why such a thing happened. If they’re good parents, they will tell their kids disappointment is a part of life and to get used to it. The prospect of further letdowns as big as the haunted house and Halo 3 will surely rattle their tranquil foundations.

TIPS FOR
BEGINNERS

PREPARATION
As I mentioned before, preparation is vital to this system. The tactics described above will not always go as smoothly as illustrated. You should practice every situation imaginable, even the ones that seem absurd. If you are unable to successfully execute a tactic, you will lose all respect and authority within the neighborhood. If this happens, you are best off MOVING to another city or state and starting over from scratch.

Another extremely imperative aspect of child-scaring is to NEVER underestimate the children. You must be wary of groups of children who could be the Little Rascals reincarnated. These children will be slick and tricky, and probably be expecting you to try to scare them. Probably they have slingshots just in case. If you feel like you can handle them, go on with your tactics, but be CAREFUL. If you end up tarred and feathered, don’t come crying to me.

IMPROVISATION
This goes hand-in-hand with preparation. If you are prepared, you will be able to improvise mid-scare. For example, if you are trying an “un-haunted house” and you notice a group of Rastafarian children, don a bald cap or shave your hair on the spot and claim it was a lion that ruined the garage to further impress fear into their dreadlocked heads. It pays to do research and tend to details.

Also, if you are doing a “missing bike” scare and you see a group of children together dressed as football players, don’t be afraid to call and audible by scrapping the current scare (even if you are in the late stages of it. Remember: it’s best to scare as many children as possible. If you feel you have time, you can come back to the “missing bike” scare later) and changing into your Arnold Palmer costume to initiate an “Arnold Palmer” on the football players.

TEAMS AND GROUPS
If you’re feeling nervous about going out on your first child-scaring Halloween, feel free to invite friends in order to “spread the wealth.” This is highly encouraged, as it will cover more children in the area and therefore spreading more fear.

For additional fun, form teams to compete with your friends to see who can scare the most children. Construct a trophy or use a fear-paralyzed child as a token of victory. It’s all about fun, after all!

Again, Halloween isn’t just for children. It’s really for adults who wish to scare children senseless. The smart kids are the ones who join in with the adults next year while others learn the hard way. (I recommend using children to scare other kids, but don’t overdo it, because soon enough those greedy bastards will want to start getting paid.) Just remember what has been taught to you and you will be scaring children in no time!

Summer Antics

2009-06-30T15:34:00.005-04:00

Summer. That wonderful time of year when schoolchildren roam free, no longer tethered to the binding restrictions of learning and scheduled activities. This time of year, unshackled teenagers take to the streets, filling up coffee shops, malls, and alleyways where they drink ICED coffee, SPEND money, and SET FIRE TO homeless people. They drive their over sized vehicles and get into car accidents, all the while learning life lessons, and hopefully, the rules of the road as well. The crackling voices of the young adults in the midst of puberty fill the air of drive-thru restaurants, as they work their "summer jobs."

Yes, summer is a beautiful time to be alive, especially if you are a teenager. Most of the greatest experiences of your young lives occur in this season (I could impress you with statistics, but I know I don't have to). It's the perfect time to get out and live, since you won't be able to once school starts again, and most definitely not when you are an adult.

How can one achieve summer greatness? One worthy of bragging to your friends and writing "What I Did This Summer" essays about? The answer is simple: Poorly thought out and planned spontaneous activities, better knows as SUMMER ANTICS.

We all know the best spur-of-the-moment endeavors are the ones we fail to plan out ahead of time. But a season full of SUMMER ANTICS does not just simply happen; you must get the ball rolling by partaking in activities that are sure to produce lasting memories and conversational topics once school rolls 'round again. If you're having trouble thinking of some SUMMER ANTICS, I present to you a helpful list of SUMMER APPROVED SUMMER ANTICS FOR SUMMERTIME:

Take a Trip
One of the best ways to not waste your summer is to take a trip. The best trips to take are the ones involving cars, roads, and long distances traveled in/on them. This may sound uncomfortable and mind-numbingly boring, and it usually is. But in hindsight, it will seem like the greatest times of your life were spent on a lonely highway in the middle of Arkansas.

Road trips are a breeding ground for SUMMER ANTICS, because of all the things that can and usually do go wrong: You can get lost, run out of gas, stay in a motel you're fairly sure only passed any sort of inspection because the owner offered sexual favors in exchange for a satisfactory grade, as evidenced by the inspector and owner having sex on the bed in your room.

Road trips are only as spontaneous as you make them. You can do research and find the best places to stay and a great destination and have a "schedule" and "planned activities" along the way, seeing "sights" like the World Largest Ball of Who Cares, but that goes against everything SUMMER ANTICS stands for. To plan your trip CORRECTLY, grab a map of the continent/island/underground maze you live in, take a knife out of the kitchen, blindfold yourself, then have a friend or loved one pick out a spot on the map randomly. Use the knife to make a sandwich or something. See if you can do it blindfolded (another great SUMMER ANTIC).

Once you have a destination (which, let me remind you, is the least important aspect of the trip), get in the car and drive. Don't forget to bring as little luggage as possible, and more people than the car you're driving allows. The more crowded the car is, the more likely your friends are to become angry or psychotic, thus adding to your ANTICS of a SUMMER variety.

If you manage to make it to point B on your journey without dying or meeting inbred people playing banjos on their front porch, congratulations are in order. If you feel it necessary, explore your destination and take a tour or stay the night, or you can spend as little time there as possible and immediately turn around and begin the trip home.

The longer the trip is, the better. If you can, leave your state, province, or even country. Go someone where you are out of your element and your accent is foreign and confusing. Also, try not to learn anything about yourself along the way, because that is just a cheesy cliche people use to justify the hardships they encountered on the trip. Also, do not sit at home and take an "inner-road trip" or whatever, where you explore who you really are and what your purpose is. That just comes off as pretentious, and no one wants to hear it.

Commit a Crime
Let me clear on this: Commit a crime that won't result in a long jail sentence. Although having the right to say you "did a nickel in the big house" is cool and a great SUMMER ANTIC, I do not recommend pursuing it.

At the same time, do not do something that is wimpy and lame. Stepping on the grass where there is a "Don't Step on This Grass" sign* or jaywalking shouldn't even be considered crimes. Also, no ponzi schemes.

The crimes I'm talking about usually entail vandalism, but a certain kind of vandalism. Any dope can grab a spray can and tag a wall or sidewalk. It takes real gumption to graffiti a city hall, police station, or courthouse.

Do not get me wrong, I support law enforcement, local government, and all that jazz. That's why when tagging these places, it would be appropriate to voice your support. You can write on the police station something like, "Keep up the great work!" or instead of "Fuck the police," "Hug the police" would be more fitting. Words of praise for your mayor or judiciaries might include "I agree with your policies!" or "That new law prohibiting cell phone use while driving will make the roads safer for all!"

Of course, if you are into a more traditional type of vandalism, toilet papering and egging the houses of people you despise are always great for SUMMER ANTICS.

In both these cases, you will have challenges to face, an accomplice to share the experience with, and someone to run from when the job's done, whether it be cops or that bitch Trudy's pit bull.

Additionally, other small crimes are worth your consideration too. Things like shoplifting and public nudity are all really good producers of ANTICS.

You can also use your crimes to make a statement, like if one of your neighbors has about seven Confederate Flags in their front yard, each of them labeled "I AIN'T COMING DOWN," a good plan would be to remove the flags from their stands or poles and set them neatly on ground, perhaps with a note that says, "Yes you are" or something similar.

Fall in "Love"
This is a fairly simple and straightforward SUMMER ANTIC. First, meet someone special. Second, spend time with them, going on dates and enjoying the company of one another. Third, when summer is nearly over break up the relationship. You can say you are moving to another country, like Australia or something. Then, when school starts and someone asks you what you did over the summer, break into song about your relationship, exaggerating details and tweaking facts to make you sound cooler.

Sure it's heartless and maybe even a ripoff of a musical from the 1970's, but it makes for great conversational topics, plus you get to sing, which is always a plus.

There are, of course, several other ways to have SUMMER ANTICS, but those are for you to find out on your own. Do not waste this valuable time by staying inside watching TV or writing guides to SUMMER ANTICS. Get outside and LIVE IT UP.

*Granted, if the sign says "Don't Step on The Grass, Or Else" or "See What Happens if You Step on This Grass, Tough Guy," that is slightly more than a wimpy crime. But then again, it can also be categorized as a dare.

The Made-Up Truth about Mother's Day

2009-05-10T10:17:00.006-04:00

Happy Mother's Day, everyone! Today, I'm sharing with you something rather old that I wrote last year for Mother's Day. It was the first thing I wrote since being re-inspired to write more often. I've written a lot over the last year, especially in the last month, but no matter what, this will always serve as my starting point or maiden voyage of the type of writing I do now. So enjoy it. I haven't changed that much from its original draft, so it could actually be kind of bad, but it's the thought that counts.

Go spend time with your mom!

The Made-Up Truth about Mother's Day

The origin of Mother's Day has always been a mystery. Many theorists say aliens brought along the holiday from their distant universe. Others will argue that Vladimir Lenin conjured up the idea while implementing communism in Russia. The misguided suggest it's just a nice gesture toward the ones who gave birth to us. I'm here to tell you all those theories are wrong. So wrong, in fact, that the truth must be revealed to you before we all drown in a sea of fallacious facts.

The year was 1903. The bustling town of St. Louis lay in the mid-west as a beacon to those who feared oceans and opportunity. In those early years of the 20th century, St. Louis was not the unglamorous, under-achieving city that it is today. Actually it was; it just didn't have that fancy arch.

Donald Mother was a local businessman who took residence in St. Louis. He was a simple man, with hopes and dreams for the future. He was a thinker and a self-proclaimed inventor. He even took credit for thinking up the automobile. But, alas, Donald Mother was a nobody and therefore no one believed his incoherent rambles about engine parts and combustion chambers. In reality, Donald Mother was the biggest crack-pot in St. Louis.

Mother lived in the attic of the mayor of St. Louis, unbeknownst to the mayor himself. Donald was a near hobo, though he was never classified as such since he technically had a home. But the general public and even the mayor believed he slept in cardboard boxes in the humid allies of town. Mother didn't own a razor, so shaving was rare. But he tried to keep himself presentable by stuffing his overgrown facial hair into his shirt. The townspeople appreciated this gesture.

When he wasn't making up conspiracy theories of stolen inventions and Nazi treasure hunting, he sold used mattresses downtown. Like all nobodies, he dreamed of owning his very own used mattress store. He had a thirst for the good life: Bottomless molasses barrels, a brick home, and a German Sheppard he could call his own. Mother knew that to achieve his hopes and dreams, he would need to work his way up the used mattress corporate ladder.

Mother wasn't the best used mattress salesman. On the contrary, he was quite bad at his job. On many occasions he had given away used mattresses to unsure customers. In defense, he claimed they'd be back since they now had used mattress experience. Although he was costing the company hundreds of dollars, management refused to fire Mother for fear of backlash from the hobo community. Instead, Mother was kept at the bottom rung of the ladder where he would do the least amount of damage to the company.

However, when esteemed Director of Personnel Horace McThomas decided to retire early at age sixty-three, management needed to find a replacement. Without a successor in place, Donald Mother was named temporary Director of Personnel until one could be found. Mother was elated. Finally, he was working he way to the top.

But, like all men who seek power, Mother became mad with authority. He ordered that there be a no-selling selling policy. Mother said that without their used mattresses, people would become desperate for them; and once the policy was lifted, sleep-deprived zombies would flood the store seeking a mattress someone had already slept on. The policy was immediately rejected, and Mother was crushed.

That night, Mother went to the local tavern to drown his sorrows. After several hours of constant alcohol consumption, Mother decided to go home. Drunk out of his mind, he stumbled down the dark streets of St. Louis with an unfinished bottle of booze in his hand. A child waited on a street corner to help the needy cross the road. When the child asked Mother if he needed a hand, Mother broke the glass bottle on a lamp post and threatened the child's life with the jagged shards. Frightened and soiled, the child ran for his life.

Mother arrived at home, the mayor's house, and entered loudly. Trying his best to be stealthy, Mother crept along the foyer toward the stairs. After three steps, he fell over and crashed into the various priceless vases and pottery the mayor owned. When the concerned mayor and his family entered the foyer and found Donald Mother lying atop the broken artifacts, they called for the police. Mother looked up into the eyes of the mayor's startled children. "No one respects Mother," he mumbled. The police arrived and gathered Mother to take him to the station. Mother was put into a jail cell, where he would be dealt with the next day.

When morning came and the cops arrived at the jail to talk to Mother, they discovered his cell was empty. All that remained was the former facial hair of the used mattress salesman. Bewildered, investigators decided the case of the drunken hobo was closed.

No one knows what happened to Donald Mother in that cell. Many have tried to put the pieces of the legend together. Some have claimed that aliens came down and abducted Mother, shaving him before taking him to their home planet made of cream cheese (These are not the same aliens as the ones suspected of bringing the Mother’s Day holiday to Earth. Scientists speculate those aliens’ home world would be made of hugs). Other stories tell of the children of the mayor releasing Mother in the middle of the night, shaving him so no one would recognize him any longer. Whatever the case, the events of that night will forever live in infamy.

Years later, during the Great Depression, the mayor’s son was elected into Congress. Within the first week of his tenure, the mayor's son proposed a new holiday to boost morale the people of America. In his proposal, he stated, "No one respects Mother." Members of Congress saw this as an excellent opportunity for children everywhere to be forced to do nice things for the women who gave birth to them. The date of the holiday would be the second Sunday in May, chosen by the mayor's son for the day of the Donald Mother incident (He didn't remember the exact date, so the second Sunday in May was just an educated guess).

And the rest, as they say, is history. Though the meaning of Mother's Day is sometimes misleading, the sorrow one young boy felt for a drunken hobo immortalized the second Sunday in May. When Mother's Day rolls around next year, listen closely to your used mattress and you can hear the intoxicated mumbles of Donald Mother repeating, "No one respects Mother."

Mother's Daze

2009-05-09T12:50:00.000-04:00

Can you believe it's already Mother's Day again? It seems like it was only yesterday that I was scrambling around town looking for something both worthy of giving to my mother and cheap. Yes, Mother's Day is synonymous with last minute remembrances and exceptionally sub-par gifts and cards. The same can be said for anniversaries, Father's Day, birthdays, and Arbor Day. Most of these last minute, last ditch efforts to express your love and care are disappointing. You might say the solution is to think ahead and get something really special beforehand. I say different: The solution is knowing how to find something really special LAST MINUTE.

We've all been there. You remember tomorrow is Mother's Day, you look at the clock, you see it's 11:30 at night, you panic. Hastily, you grab your car keys and bolt out the door into the night. Then you drive. Then you think maybe you left your house unlocked, so you go back home to make sure. Turns it was locked after all. "Better to be safe than sorry," you say. Then you forget what you were doing in the first place and you go back inside and go to bed. The next day, you realize it's Mother's Day and you have no gift. WHAT DO YOU DO?

I'll tell you. You panic. Do not be afraid to; panicking will keep your adrenaline up and help keep you focused on the task at hand. Now, there are a number of places you can go to get your wonderful mother something nice: Flowers, chocolate, a card that sings rock music from the 1980's, and so on. These are all really mediocre gifts, ones that your mom has received every Mother's Day. Why not make this one special?

What you do is, go to a dark alley downtown with a flashlight and wait. Whenever someone walks past your alley, flash the light toward them from the darkness. This is a signal to the fake watch salesmen. At this point, you should still be panicking, because you are in a dark alley and it's Mother's Day and you have no gift. Eventually, the bearded man who sells the fake Rolex watches will appear, having seen your signal. DO NOT BUY A WATCH. Instead, ask him if he has any good ideas for great Mother's Day gifts.

He'll say you should have thought ahead of time. You'll tell him you didn't and that you don't have a time machine to go back in time so why doesn't he just give you an answer and you can leave this smelly alley? He'll say something like "Well Excuse me," drawing out the middle part of the word, much like a teenager. Then finally he'll tell you something about a used car salesman who runs an underground fight club in his shop's basement, and to go to him for an awesome gift.

"Tell 'em I sent you," he'll say. Then in true sketchy alley salesman fashion, he'll steal your watch and vanish.

Now you head over to the used car salesman's lot. It's Sunday, so the place is deserted. Naturally, you should be panicking even more now. Because let me remind you: You're at an empty used car lot where there is an underground fight club, you were just mugged by an fake watch salesman, and you have no gift for Mother's Day.

The shop is unlocked, despite the absence of workers. Knock on the door that leads down to the basement (the door labeled BASEMENT. NOT FIGHT CLUB.). Someone will answer and ask who you are, you tell them the fake watch guy sent you, and you are granted admittance. Panic increases.

You go down the stairs and realize there are fights going on today. You think your one option is to bet on a fighter, win, and take the winnings and buy a great Mother's Day gift. Sounds like a good plan with no terrible alternatives, right? But then some portly, short, cigar-smoking man asks for your name and weight. You obliviously enlighten the man. You ask him where to go to place bets. He laughs at you and walks away.

Later, you hear your name called. You don't know why, but you walk through the crowd of people to get to the center of the room. The fat cigar man tells you you'll be fighting next, and the prize is a diamond necklace. Before you have any say in edgewise, you are thrown into the circle where a towering, bulging, beastly man stands in front of you. He looks like Barry Bonds on steroids on steroids. You wonder how this match-up came to be, that maybe someone made a mistake with the fights, because this match seems to be more lopsided than peg-legged pirate plagued with termites.

There is no arguing though. The fight begins before you can protest. Naturally, you are panicking. Keep it up, it's helping. Well, it's helping insofar that you don't feel all the pain when you are getting the crap beat out of you. Within seconds, you're out cold and the fight is called.

You wake up some time later, still in the basement. No one is there, and with no watch, you don't know what time it is. Panic is replaced with pain, anguish, and disappointment. All you wanted to do was get your mother a nice gift she would love, but all you got was a punch in the face. You leave the basement and go to see your mother. It is nighttime now, the day almost done. You enter the house and hug your mother.

"Happy Mother's Day," you say.

Your mother hugs you, not asking about your bruised face and missing tooth, and says, "That's very nice of you, but Mother's Day isn't for another two days."

You are confused. You panic once more. You look at the calendar: It's Friday again. How can this be? Is it possible that you were punched so hard you went back in time? But there's no time to wonder about that. You have to get a Mother's Day gift.

DON'T SCREW IT UP THIS TIME.

The Aftermath

2009-05-01T23:17:00.002-04:00

I am coming to terms with the conclusion of BEDA. I was looking forward to the end of the month, because I thought things would calm down. It turns out that BEDA was a very calming thing. It took up a lot of my time, and I liked that! I'm starting to miss it a little already, but I think I'm just adjusting to not having to do a lot of stuff every day like all of last month.

I decided I would keep this blog running and possibly update it from time to time. I don't know. We'll see what happens. What I'm saying is, just stick around. Please.

Today I received my paperback edition of Suite Scarlett, so I am abandoning Harry Potter rereads for now to immerse myself into that book. So far, so good. I feel like it's setting up for something CLIMACTIC near the end of the book, but then again that's what expositions are for.

Not much else is going on, and I have nothing else to offer you for entertainment. Just know that life is different without BEDA.

Good day to you.

Conclusions

2009-04-30T10:59:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone. It's April 30th, and we all know what that means. But before we say goodbye to Blog Every Day April and cry and hug, there is one last piece of business that needs taking care of.

My BEDA Buddies and I have come up with a thrilling tale of love, loss, and zombies. Today, I write the conclusion to the story; a story about a zombie named Bob. Before you continue, you should read the first three parts:

Part 1 by Rebecca
Part 2 by Chelsea
Part 3 by Tobias

Go read those if you haven't yet. I can wait.

And now the thrilling the conclusion of BOB THE ZOMBIE.

Bob and his lover, FUC (Fellow Undead Creature), were to set out for the Netherlands. They were able to a grab a ride on a freighter that was hopefully heading to the general area of Europe. They stowed themselves away in the cargo hold, not needing any personal luxuries like comfort or space, just as long as they had each other and their common disdain for Zelda, the zombie wench who had abandoned them both.

A few days into the trip, there was a commotion going on up on the main deck. It sounded like shouting and gun fire. Bob bravely volunteered to go check it out. When he arrived out of the cargo hold and peered out onto the main deck, he saw the opportunity of the lifetime: PIRATES.

Acting quickly, he shambled back down to the cargo hold and told FUC in a shout, "Hrrggkaaghhlzzqurt!"

FUC beamed happily, or we can at least assume so; it's hard to read the facial expressions of a creature with no lips and one eye. FUC stood up and dusted off his 1920's double breasted suit and said simply, "Tgoipasdgft."

The two shambled back up to the deck. The pirates were already taking sailors hostage. Bob acted quickly, jumping out of the shadows and latching on to one of the pirates' heads with his mouth. As the pirate screamed in unparalleled agony, the other pirates tried to save him by shooting blindly at Bob, but of course, without a shotgun, they were doing no damage whatsoever.

Bob released his bite on the pirate. The pirate fell down to the ground and lay motionless for a few moments. Then he sprang up, looking quite dead. And hungry. Bob looked proudly at his creation: A Zombie Pirate is a rare feat to have accomplished.

Now Bob, Zombie Pirate, and FUC took on the rest of the group, turning them all into Zombie Pirates. Now Bob and FUC had an army of Zombie Pirates that could navigate the ship safely to the Netherlands.

"Doitblkzzztrerp!" ordered Bob, telling the Zombie Pirate Captain to go to the bridge and set a course for the Netherlands.

That night, Bob and FUC dined on the bodies of some sailors. A burning corpse lit the room quite nicely, and its smell of burnt hair and flesh was an intoxicating aroma. It was a very romantic dinner by zombie standards.

They spoke of their feelings for one another, about the Zombie Pirate army they so proudly created. But mostly they talked about what they were going to do when they found Zelda, that harlot. What had once been love had turned into a hatred and the desire for retribution. FUC was eager to see her dead. Again.

In just a few days, the Zombie Pirates were able to navigate the ship to the Netherlands: They were closing in on Velsen and would arrive at dawn. From there, Bob, FUC, and the Zombie Pirates would pillage and shamble their way to Amsterdam, where they were certain they would find Zelda.

The Zombie Pirate Captain, while great at navigating, lacked the skills for slowing down and docking the massive ship properly, though such things do not matter to a zombie. The freighter burst into the port and ran up onto the land. Somehow, the enchanted Zombie Pirates made the ship able to work on land, too. Bob and FUC shrugged, accepting this heretofore unknown ability, and sat back and relaxed as the ship tore onward toward Amsterdam.

Once the ship finally crashed into the city, Bob and company climbed out of the ship and began to terrorize Amsterdam. They pillaged and plundered, all the while screaming, "NERTUGZUDLA," Zombiespeak for "WHERE IS ZELDA?" Since Zombiespeak is just as confusing and complex as Dutch, the people of Amsterdam were able to infer that the zombies were indeed looking for someone.

After about half of the city was pillaged and burning, a group of Dutch Zombies appeared to defend their city, for it was theirs to destroy, they claimed. And sure enough, hiding behind the thuggish gang of Dutch Zombies cowered Zelda. Bob and FUC saw her immediately.

"Negusdurfgul (We just want the girl)," said FUC, pointing a boned finger at Zelda.

One zombie stood forward defensively, "Schkleeopnurtee! (She belongs to me!)" he said. Bob was not surprised Zelda had already found a replacement for him.

"Derngequagjf! (Then it is war!)" declared FUC, shambling forward along with the Zombie Pirates. And war it was.

Bob fought off the thug's henchman, throwing them into the canal below. One zombie henchman took a swipe at his wooden leg, nearly knocking it loose. But the duct tape stood strong and did its job, and Bob fought back with a perfectly placed punch in the sternum, shattering the opposing zombie's exposed chest cavity.

The Zombie Pirates were holding their own, clearly far superior warriors than the regular zombies.

Bob caught up to FUC, who was fighting Zelda's new boyfriend. Bob tackled the new love interest, pinning up down. The Zombie Pirates, having finished off the rest of the henchman, surrounded them. Bob got up and stared at the boyfriend's decayed face. He was ugly, even for a zombie.

"Duvtetrzxfh (Do your worst)," Bob told his army. They all jumped onto the boyfriend like a tidal wave engulfing the shore. The screams of agony were like music.

Bob and FUC turned to Zelda, who was crouched next to a fire hydrant, holding onto it for support, clearly shaken. FUC approached her.

"Qwebretee? (Remember me?)" he said, looking down at her. She looked up at him and she began to shake, losing her grip on the hydrant and falling all the way to the ground. FUC cackled wickedly.

But Bob felt sorry for Zelda. She was not a good zombie, not by any stretch of the imagination. However, Bob and FUC were happy together, and they didn't need to kill Zelda to be content. Bob felt the journey was more important than the destination. He approached the scene, putting an arm around FUC.

"Skleeburrtefh (She's suffered enough)," Bob told him.

"Skleetusgyetyzz (She must pay for what she did)," FUC argued.

"Unoqurotsklee (No. I forgive her)."

FUC seemed to understand. He relaxed, his fists unclenched and his exposed teeth were no longer gritted. He nodded slightly and embraced Bob. The Zombie Pirates behind them cheered.

"Moerfftoog? (Am I free to go?)" asked Zelda.

"Twetifdfopapzpnmnqweyzzad (Yes)," said Bob.

Zelda stood up, still a little shaken. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to do it. Finally she blurted out, "Oferdtehnlidfotfoll (I was the one who ordered the anvil to fall on you)."

"NUH?" said Bob, astonished.

Zelda did not make eye contact, but continued, "Blahowertplxzlkjlgfgh (It was supposed to crush you whole, but it missed and got your leg.)"

Bob said nothing.

"Omayors (I am sorry)," Zelda said, now looking remorsefully into Bob's eyes, "Iqwasnkgtpoxzz (I didn't know how else to end it between us)."

Bob realized maybe he was a little too quick to forgive Zelda. He turned to FUC, whose look suggested he had come to the same epiphany. There was no reason to feel sorry for her anymore. Zelda had taken away his leg, his key to shambling. Granted, it brought him to FUC, whom he loved more than shambling. . . But they went through a lot of trouble to get here.

Bob gave FUC a pat that said, "You do the honors." FUC nodded to one of the Zombie Pirates, who handed him a shotgun, the Bane of all Zombies.

He called to Zelda, who was already shambling down the street: "Fumitfdfg! (Hey, bitch!)"

She turned around, looking confused. FUC fired and a myriad of bullets struck Zelda square in the gut, jettisoning her backward into a brick building. FUC walked to her and fired once more, this time in the head.

"Mitghgtogwetrv (Bitch got served)," said FUC. The crew cheered once more.

And they all lived happily ever after.

THE END.

---------------------------------------------------------------

So, it's the last day of April. It's actually a little sad, thinking that this is all over now. I loved every minute of it, and I especially love you for reading anything that was written on this blog, even if it was one post or one sentence.

I just want to say thanks to everyone who gave feedback, told me I didn't suck, and to keep writing. It's not easy writing stuff every day, but it was worth it nonetheless. I can stand here, knowing I completed what I set out to do, and knowing that I won't have to dye my hair pink, which I'm sure no one remembers me saying.

Thanks to Maureen Johnson, the Churchill of Blogging. She let me help organize BEDA, and it was nothing but good times. I got to meet some new people, make new friends, read a bunch of interesting stuff. What more could I person ask?

Thanks to my BEDA Buddies, Chelsea, Rebecca, and Tobias. For although once we sucked at friendship, we pulled ourselves together decreased the friendship suck by a few points. Kudos to us!

And thanks to you, the READER, for being awesome.

You should go out and buy the paperback edition of Suite Scarlett tomorrow, for if you remember well, that book is the reason for all this. So show it the love it deserves.

See you tomorrow. . . ?

The BEDA Quiz

2009-04-29T13:08:00.003-04:00

Today is the second to last day of BEDA. With it comes the fourth and final challenge. I told you on Sunday it would require you to study my blog some, so hopefully you did. Those who have been reading since day one will find this quiz challenging, fun, and maybe easy. I don't know, really. I tried to make it hard, because I'm mean.

There is no time limit, so if you feel you must cheat, you can. There is a question from each blog post done prior to this. GOOD LUCK my friends!

Without further ado, here is it is:

CHALLENGE #4:
THE BEDA QUIZ

the_beda_quiz

How did you do?

See you tomorrow.

Apocalypse Later

2009-04-28T14:30:00.002-04:00

The end of the world has been a topic of much discussion throughout history. Scholars, mad scientists, and extinct South American tribes have all taken a stab at predicting when and how the world will end/blow up/stop spinning/rotate in the opposite direction because someone actually thought it would reverse the flow of time (SUPERMAN IS WRONG).

Since everyone (okay, just me) is curious about the apocalypse, I went on a perilous and tedious journey in order to hunt down the one person with knowledge on the subject: A hippie.

Few people do not realize that hippies have the ability of foresight. This is because they are not human (for more information of hippies, click here). Hippies of today are nothing like the ones from the 1960's. These early hippies were the genetically mutated humanoids with all sorts of powers, but they were quickly exterminated by Richard Nixon. At any rate, finding a hippie with the power to see into the future nowadays is nearly impossible, but I have a theory.

There have been rumors for years now that Nixon did not kill all the first generation Super Hippies. He saved one for himself, to use as his servant. For years the hippie was a slave to Nixon's will, using his powers to rig elections and sway the minds of the general public with telepathy. After years in captivity though, the hippie could not take the oppression, and demonstrated his knack for cunning non-conformism by planting the evidence of the Watergate scandal. That's right, IT WAS THE HIPPIES THAT DONE NIXON IN. It was a fitting end for Nixon, as karma once again triumphed.

Now free, the hippie (let's call him Jenkins) fled Washington, D.C. and traveled the globe, aging slower than regular humans and exploring other cultures. Jenkins was part of many social and cultural revolutions throughout the globe. Where he lives now is not certain, but Jenkins tends to travel wherever there is need for a hippie.

The hippie movement today is almost nonexistent, so it was more than easy to find Jenkins. He was yelling at the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. about foreskins or something. But nevertheless, he stood out like a sore thumb, and when I was able to knock him out and drag him back to the interrogation van, no one complained about the new-found silence.

With help from some sketchy henchman, we bound and interrogated Jenkins, but to not much success. He spoke an archaic hippie dialect that made no sense.

"How is the world going to end? PEOPLE WANNA KNOW," I demanded.

"Man, man. Man man man, man. Maaaan. You dig?" he responded calmly. I think he was high. Clearly this would take some time.

I was becoming impatient though. The henchman slapped him around a bit, but he remained unfazed. Finally I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "I WANT ANSWERS!"

After I calmed down a bit, he looked at me as if he just exited a trance. He spoke clearly now: "Answers. We all want them."

I looked into his eyes. They were changing colors, becoming psychedelic tie-dye shades and spinning hypnotically. I blinked.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a field, or at least what had once been one. It was now barren wasteland. No trees or any other vegetation in sight, just flat, dirt-patched land that stretched out for miles toward the horizon.

I opened my mouth to speak, but not sound came out. There was no one around me. It was quiet, yet nothing close to peaceful. The sky was red and cloudless. I knew I was looking into the future, but when and where was I exactly?

Then from behind me I heard marching. A massive army of various animated kitchen appliances holding torches walked past me. Dishwashers, dryers, toasters, all looking devious and evil. I had no idea what to make of it. Looking around for some sort of explanation, I saw that they were labeled GE.

Then it hit me: General Electric. OF COURSE. They have the money and the resources to take over the world. They control Thursday night television by way of NBC. They make reliable household appliances and smart electricity. Clearly this was what they meant by "Imagination at work." So at that moment, the truth was revealed unto me: General Electric means to destroy us all and bring about the end of days.

The next thing I knew I was in a bed of flowers in a field similar to the one in my vision. This field was flourishing with color and life, and the sky was the most beautiful hue of blue. But how did I get here?

I stood up. Pinned to my shirt was a note that read:

You have the answers. Perhaps you can stop it. Perhaps not. What you do with this knowledge is up to you. How it will change the future is not known. Good luck.

-Glorious Ecstasy (aka Jenkins)

P.S. I killed your henchman and stole your van.

I wasn't able to figure out when this was happening. It could probably be hundreds of years from now, after the events of the new Terminator movie, I'm sure. If this was the case, no human alive now would be around when GE begins the uprising and causes the world to end. I suppose the only way we can save the world is by bringing down GE in the present by not using their numerous products. It's risky, but we must save the future!

And that . . . is how the world ends.

See you tomorrow.

A Guide to Proper Sentence Enhancing

2009-04-27T15:41:00.003-04:00

WARNING: THIS POST IS RATED R FOR
"RIDICULOUS AMOUNTS OF SWEARING"
PROCEED WITH CAUTION

There are few better ways to spice up a sentence, to give it a little more authority, than by cursing. Sprinkling some tabooed words over a sentence can add flavor and meaning to the dullest of sentences, and even intimidation and fear to the already threatening. But cursing must be used PROPERLY, or you will come across as a weakling just trying to be cool by throwing in random swears. You do not want this. So how can you enhance your sentences correctly? I'll tell you.

There are three basic rules when it comes to the application of cuss words: Setup, Choice, and Execution. Let's break it down.

1. SETUP
While in conversation, you must plan ahead and know when you will use a curse word. This way, you have a well thought out plan, which will lead to the desired effect of the swear. Setups are key to the next steps, so do not overlook the importance of proper setup.

When setting up, you must steer the conversation away from the coming curse, so that it is unexpected and all the more powerful. Coax the other member(s) of the conversation into a sense of security and pureness. Some helpful topics to talk about when setting up include:

-Puppies
-Rainbows
-Unicorns
-Babies and/or toddlers
-Dr. Seuss
-Baked goods
-Kobe Bryant

Once you are fully immersed in one or all of these topics, you must move onto the next phase of PROPER SENTENCE ENHANCING: choice.

2. CHOICE
Choosing the proper curse word is like choosing the correct car: You want value, you want people to admire it, and you want it to take you places. There is a time and place for every word of curse, and it is up to you to pick the right one. You can't always use the Corvette when the Camry will get the job done. In other words, you don't want to OVERKILL.

Example of Overkill:

"I just found twenty COCK SMOKING MOTHERFUCKING dollars on the sidewalk."

Then there is always the opposite of overkill, in which the word doesn't convey the right amount of passion, as illustrated here:

"I hate your face so much! It is crappy!"

So how can you be sure which word is right for your situation? Choosing is a pivotal part in the process of sentence enhancing. Experienced potty mouths know that it is a delicate procedure. But even the best of swearers of our time can swing and miss. But other times, it's a grand slam. The decision is up to you; don't be afraid to follow your gut or instincts. Sometimes a last minute change or spontaneously conjured portmanteaus get excellent reactions.

3. EXECUTION
Perhaps the most important step of all. The execution of your enhanced sentence is CRUCIAL. You can have the best setup, the perfect word, and then you can BLOW IT ALL TO PIECES with poor execution. Proper execution means not stumbling on words and speaking at the ideal speed. The sentence should feel like landing a punch square in someone's face.

Inflection is key to conveying the proper emotion behind your enhanced sentence. You can be feeling angry, but a mistake in inflection could leave you coming across as sexually aroused, which is a PROBLEM. Remember to be stern when angry, putting extreme emphasis on your swears and yelling VERY LOUDLY.

If all three steps are done correctly, your enhanced sentence will do one of three things: (1) Leave people in the conversation astonished and amazed, (2) Cause the people in the conversation to cry with joy and clap, or (3) Cause the people in the conversation to explode inexplicably. If any one of these things happens, you know you have just successfully and masterfully CURSED. Congratulations.

Notes for Beginners
Hey kids. Cursing is fun. We all love to do it. But it takes plenty of practice to swear properly. Keep these notes in mind the next time you decide to drop a curse word:

-Fuck, while powerful, should be used sparingly and for ideal situations.

-Do NOT ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER use the dreaded C Word when a lady is within a five mile radius.

-Shit and damn are best used as jabbing swears. Feel free to use them as much as you want.

-Creating your own swears is fun and stylish. Be creative!

-Placing curse words within words is fun for the whole family! Abso-fucking-lutely!

-Motherfucker is another powerful word to be used sparingly. When used perfectly, it could actually kill someone.

-Prick and douche bag are good proper noun-type swears.

-Crap and hell are just child's play. Don't waste your time with them.

Happy swearing, douche bags!

See you tomorrow.

The Homestretch

2009-04-26T12:19:00.006-04:00

It is the final week of April, which of course means Blog Every Day April will soon be over. This month has really gone by kind of quickly for me; I'm having a hard time believing it is almost over. And yet, perversely, it feels like it was centuries ago when my inbox began to overflow with enthusiastic bloggers wanting in on BEDA.

Since then, everything has kind of evened out: The only mail blogeverydayapril@yahoo.com gets anymore is spam, and I haven't had to add anyone to the roll call for a couple weeks now. Admittedly, things were pretty hectic in the beginning for me, but now it's all very mellow, and looking back I remember how making a list of people's blogs was strangely satisfying, because I felt like I was doing a service to the community.

As we enter the final couple of days left in April, I encourage everyone to reflect on their month and think of what they have accomplished. Whether you made some new friends or learned something from someone's blog, I know at the very least we're all having fun. I also encourage you to get motivated again. It's not easy, writing every day for thirty days, so try to remember the excitement of it all back on April 1st, and get re-inspired to write something, even if it just for these last few days.

I don't see how I've managed to make it this far, and writing about the experience so far makes me think today is the last day, but there are still four blogs waiting to be written after this. I remember when I first heard of Blog Every Day April, I thought to myself "Oh this will be easy. I can write something every day for a month." Then on about the third day I began to think I was in over my head, and how I couldn't possibly come up with anything write for the remainder of this month. But now look how far we've come.

I've been thinking for a while (like, back in the second week of April) how I should wrap up the last few days, and I decided I would pick today to try to get some people motivated to work on some quality blogs if that have strayed from what they consider their normal writing habits, and also to reflect on how far we've come from April 1st (and how I've never had to use the SPORTS ALERT! warning I mentioned in my first post. I am telling you now there will be a challenge on Wednesday, which if you want to succeed in accomplishing will require you to read or have read most of my blogs for this month. So be sure to study!

Also, I think I am a terrible BEDA Buddy. Chelsea, Tobias, Rebecca, I'm sorry I suck at friendship. I'm going to try to get in contact with you all and see if we can do something (possibly muffin related?) for one of these last days.

To those who have stuck with this project from day one, I salute you. Even if you haven't blogged every day, but have still kept reading other people's work, you are commended. And to everyone who sent in their blogs to be added to this list, I thank you. But I don't want to get all sentimental today; there is still much more work to be done! We can all hug and cry on the 30th when it's all over.

See you tomorrow.

The Secret Order of Lefties

2009-04-25T01:00:00.002-04:00

I have a secret to tell you. You probably did not know this about me, but it's time I come clean and tell you: I'm left-handed. Some people believe being left-handed means you are a freak, a minority, since only 10% of the world's population is left-handed. But what they do not know is, at one time, there was a plan to eradicate all the right-handed people of the world.

In the early 13th century, a group of French outcasts banded together, all with one thing in common: they were all left-handed. Estranged from the rest of society, they formed Le Ordre Secret de Gauchers, or The Secret Order of Lefties. They were proud to be left-handed, to be different than all the others, and they celebrated this difference by amputating their right hand and choosing to do everything with their left. The lack of a right hand made it easy to recognize other members of the Order.

The original Order consisted of only 12 members. These founders hoped the Order would bring lefties together, those who were different and shunned from society could join the Order and be with people like them. For centuries, the Order lasted as an underground society, and grew as time went on.

But the Order changed as the years went on: Its new leaders began to let ambidextrous people join, and the tradition of cutting off the right hand was abandoned. The Order was becoming well known and mainstream, and therefore not so secret. All of this angered lifetime members who knew the rich history of the Order, and who were decedents of some of the earliest members.

The outraged members planned a coup against the current leaders and took power in the middle of the 17th century. The new "purist" leaders were extremists, and closed the Order to anyone who wasn't completely left-sided. It wasn't soon after that that they began a plan to wipe out all the right handed people in the world in mass and stealthy genocide. The Purists believed it was time for retribution, for the right-handed people to pay for their centuries of mistreating left-handed people.

The New Order brought back the old traditions of the first Order, forcing its members to cut off their right hands. They also started recruiting soldiers and other killers for the coming mass killings. Within ten years, the Purists' extremist ways had spread to thousands of lefties, and soon enough the New Order had an army of left-handed killers from all of Europe at their disposal.

Not long after that, numerous deaths were occurring all throughout Europe. No one could figure out the cause or reason, so some believed it was another Plague. Others thought it was God. One person thought it was a bunch of bitter left-handed people. No one believed him, of course.

While all these murders were going on, those who had been forced out of the Order in the coup were building an army of their own to oppose the New Order. These soldiers were composed of left- and right-handed people, and some even ambidextrous. They were not as skilled at killing and sneaking as the Purists' army, but they had numbers.

The war was fought in the shadows, under the noses of the oblivious civilians; the battles were quick and silent, and often won by those of the Order, for they had a superior advantage over the Purists, who only had one hand. This would be their Achilles Heel, as they were no match for the two-handed warriors.

Finally, in 1693, the Order caught up with the leaders of New Order, the Purists who had overthrown them some twenty years ago. They were the last of their army and stood no chance against the Order, so in typical French fashion, they surrendered. The New Order had been defeated, and along with it the intolerance against those not purely left-sided. The Order tortured the fallen Purists by cutting off their left hand, then reattaching it to their right wrist. The Purists would rather be dead, so once they were released, they committed suicide, one by one.

Today, the Order still exists. Its odd traditions now defunct, and all indifference obliterated. It has returned to its humble roots, when it was thriving and peaceful in between the 14th and early 17th centuries. Those who are left-handed are automatically admitted into the Order, which has no leader or army, and is just composed of those who know of it. Knowledge of the Order has escaped all minds and history books, so it can now once again be called The Secret Order of Lefties.

Members are recognized when one demonstrates their left-handedness, and another member shows them an "L" made of their finger and thumb. Nothing is said, but the message is passed nonetheless.

Flash this sign at strangers!

"Il est droit d'être quitté."

See you tomorrow.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER IV

2009-04-24T11:10:00.008-04:00

It is the last Friday in April, which means this is the last day to spread power by way of knowledge. Enjoy the final installment of KNOWLEDGE IS POWER, wherein more of your questions get more of my answers!

McChuckster wants to know: Why?

Why not?

Summer asks: How do you know Maureen? How did that relationship start?

It's actually a funny story. You can ask Maureen the same question, and her answer may be a little different from mine, but that is because she is lying. Here is TRUTH:

It was the winter of 1956. My grandfather, Sokolov Cwierzski* was on a mission for the KGB in Newfoundland, where it was believed the Americans were hiding their nuclear missiles. He was to infiltrate a suspected silo in the middle of a vast tundra. Sokolov was a skilled spy, and went undetected by the Canadians' beady eyes. Once inside the silo, his job was to sabotage the nuclear missiles.

He was there, the missiles were right in front of him, but an American spy named Valerie Sonjohn* thwarted his plan. An epic battle ensued, but both spies were equally skilled. It was clear there would be no victor in this fight. The American dog Valerie pulled a fast one and whipped out her Single Action Army revolver. Unarmed, Sokolov knew he stood no chance. He accepted his fate.

But suddenly, a third person was present. A cloaked figure entered the room unnoticed, and seemed to floating in the air like a ghost. An angelic voice called out to the two enemies:

This battle must end. The prophecy depends on the survival of the both of you. Part ways now, go back to your homes and your family. In fifty three years time, your descendants shall meet again, and peace and happiness will be shared by over 400 people, and the stain of this feud shall be washed away.

Valerie lowered her weapon. Sokolov opened his mouth to speak, but the strange figure had vanished. Without a word, the two spies parted ways.

So to answer your question, it was DESTINY.

Morgan Johnson asks: If you were a girl for 24 hours, what would you do?

Goodness. I don't know. Probably all the cliche things a guy would do if he were in a female body: Feel things out, go into the girl's locker room, claim to be a lesbian. You know, the basics!

MissPrint asks: Thirteen . . . lucky or unlucky?

UNLUCKY. Everything about 13 is unlucky! I mean, it even tries to trick you by looking like the letter B sometimes. It wants nothing more than to cause you misery and confusion. And on Friday the 13th, you'd better watch out! I usually stay inside and wear a foam bodysuit when Friday the 13th rolls around, because I take no chances!

Abby wonders: We seem to be becoming a narcissistic world. Is this a good or bad thing? Why?

Sorry, I was too busy looking at myself in the mirror to answer this question.

Yes, I see what you're saying. It is becoming increasingly evident that people, especially the ones with money and fame, seem to be obsessed with nothing but themselves and their needs. And what is really annoying is when these people are forced to do something philanthropic, probably by request of their agent or publicist, and then talk about how it felt "nice to do something helpful" in a voice and manner that suggest the opposite. I'm talking to you, Kim Kardashian!

This is a bad thing. A very bad thing! We cannot be concerned about ourselves every waking moment when there are other people who have such terrible lives they wonder if they will be dead tomorrow. It's maddening, but everyone needs to be concerned with these issues, and anyone who puts their life ahead of someone else doesn't deserve what they have.

Georginalee inquires: Would you rather be invisible or be able to fly?

This is a tough one. I'd like to be invisible and sneak into the White House or Fort Knox or something like that. That would be cool, no doubt. But if I were able to fly, I could get around so easy and see the world free of charge. Not to mention, I'd be way better at sports. So I'm going to go with flight. WOOOSH!

Kasey wonders: Is the conspicuous absence of a number the same as coincidentally seeing it all the time?

That's an interesting question. But I think it's better to pay attention to the numbers you see frequently than the ones that aren't don't pop up as much. I don't usually see the number 59 a lot, or ever, but that doesn't amaze me as much as my odd connection with 23. So just watch out for the ones you can see!

In other news, the Wikipedia challenge has been pretty much abandoned, which is probably for the best. They don't deserve a fake article about me anyway, right? Thanks to all of you who fought for it and stood up to their fascist ways, but now we must be Switzerland and just forget about it.

Also, yesterday's post had a theme, which was the number 23 of course. For those of you who care, the other connections the post had with 23 was that it was posted on the 23rd of April, and the number 23 appeared 23 times in the post. Tricky, huh?

Thanks for your questions. After four weeks of knowledge spreading, you should be considerably more powerful! Go take over Somalia or something!

See you tomorrow.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Twenty-Three

2009-04-23T11:28:00.003-04:00

There is a strange connection between myself and the number 23. I have noticed these odd coincidences for some time now, even before that awful movie The Number 23 came out, which if nothing else only solidifies my kinship to the number. For you see, Jim Carrey made The Number 23 with his production company, aptly named JC 23 Entertainment. The connection here being that Jim Carrey and I share the same initials, so JC 23 could actually be referring to me in some odd way.

This is just one of many, nearly countless connections I have with this number. Additionally, if you were to count up all the letters in my full name, the total number equals 23. Michael JORDAN wore number 23 when he played with the Chicago Bulls. The aforementioned JC 23 connection. There are 23 flavors in Dr. Pepper, a favored soda of mine. When I took my permit test for driving, I missed two out of twenty-five questions. And I took my test to get my actual license on the 23rd of June.

In addition to 23, the number 1,023 often appears to be linked with me. This is because my birthday is 10/23. And even more strange, the time 10:23, am or pm, always seems to jump out at me; I'll take a look at the clock, and it will say 10:23. I am not lying to you! It happens way too often! Also, let me remind you in case you have forgotten: I AM NOT CRAZY.

Then there are ways both 10 and 23 are mentioned. It is a common score in football, I have noticed. And sometimes there will be news headlines with linking the two numbers.

I'm not saying the number is cursed, or that it symbolizes the end of the world. I'm just saying that due to these numerous coincidences, I really like the number 23. I try to look for it everywhere, and wait for it to be mentioned in a TV show or something. And it never fails; the number always tends to show up. I have told my family about this, and when I'll be watching TV with my dad and someone mentions 23, he sighs hopelessly, and I know that I do not have to point it out for him.

One time, I told a friend in California that I was coming there to visit, and I was leaving February 17th and I'd arrive at 4 o' clock. He quickly figured out that 2 + 17 + 4 = 23, because, you know, he knows the check for things like that. Naturally, I told him that's how I planned it.

There are so many connections to 23 and me, I cannot remember all of them. But it is a hobby of mine to notice it as much as possible. I would not go as far to say that I am obsessed with the number. I like to think the number is obsessed with me. Is it unhealthy and ominous? Most likely, but is it interesting? To me, it is. Just be on the lookout for ol' 23. Perhaps it is obsessed with you, too. . . .

I'm sure there are even connections between this post and 23. I'm sure you kind find at least two. And for a wider, more conspiratorial look on the coincidences of 23 (those of which do not personally connect me to the number), click here.

Oh and don't forget that tomorrow is KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Leave any questions or concerns or number obsessions you have so I can answer them! Please and thanks!

See you tomorrow.

Happy Bearth Day!

2009-04-22T15:16:00.003-04:00

I'm sure you already knew this, but today is Earth Day! Earth Day is one of those holidays that is widely celebrated, but not yet significant enough to get you the day off from school. It is also, and I think this is true, the Earth's birthday. I mean, it has to be, otherwise what's the point of having it on this day? Random date on a calendar selecting by some guy named Gaylord? Most certainly not.

There has always been speculation about the Earth's actual date of birth. In 1650, James Ussher calculated the Earth's date of creation to be October 23rd. Which is fine with me, because that is my birthday, and I have no problem with sharing my birthday with someone as great as the Earth. However, thanks to "modern science" and whatnot, this well thought out and previously accepted theory has been kicked to the curb.

Though the Earth's exact birthday is still not known (and honestly, no one is ever going to find out; it's just impossible to tell when the Earth officially went from lava rock in space to planet capable of holding life), we still have Earth Day to fall back on and celebrate its apparent birth, and also to raise awareness that we might possibly maybe most definitely be killing it . . .

Earth Day started in 1970 as a way to pledge for a better environmental future by decreasing population growth and the entrapment of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere. The plan was that by 1994, everything should be evened out. And now, in 2009, things have become progressively worse from where we started 39 years ago. But, we can at least feel guilt free on Earth Day, when we ride our bikes to work and use mousse for our hair. PROBLEM SOLVED.

All this Earth Day talk reminds me of when I was in sixth grade and I went to an undeniably GREEN camp for a five-day trip with my school. There, the counselors took us on hikes and showed us the world around us. They also told us that Earth was slowly dying, and it was all our faults for using hairspray, voting for Republicans, and driving Hummers. Naturally, I had no idea what this hippie guy was talking about, but he had a very colorful and hypnotic shirt, so I obeyed him.

Since then, I have, admittedly, fell of the wagon a bit: I only drive diesel cars, I do not recycle, and I have a bad habit of leaving all 23 of my microwaves on for days at a time. Also, the nine acre lot on which I live has been rented out for nuclear testing by the government. But at least I can feel good about my impact on the environment on this day, for I unplug all my microwaves, choose not to leisurely ride my coal-powered bicycle, and recycle old jokes down at the Comedy Club. Obviously, I'm forced to make sacrifices, but someone's got to save this planet right?

I bet you are sitting there at your computer (which is hopefully hamster-powered, if not only for today) and thinking to yourself, How can I decrease my negative impact on the environment? I like it here on Earth! And there are many ways you can do this! But be warned that none of them are easy or practical.

First, you can move to rural Pennsylvania and become Amish. Live off the land, wear straw hats, and play games like jacks or "Count the Bricks." But do note use candles, as these are very hard on the atmosphere as it turns out. Convince your Amish brethren that halogen lights are green, and that green is good. If they do not know what you mean by green, just tell them Jesus came to you in a dream and said to use them. That should work.

Alternately, you can do nothing. By which I mean go out into a field and stand there for the rest of your life, doing nothing. Do not breathe, do not move. This will make you completely and 100% environmentally neutral. Then, when you die, your decayed corpse will serve as a fertilizer for Mother Earth, thus making her stronger. Good work.

Less helpful ways of cutting down your carbon footprint include using green technology, driving hybrid cars, turning off lights (who has time for that?), or recycling. These steps, while somewhat helpful, are not as great and drastic as my two previously mentioned "green ways of life."

So, have a happy and green Earth Day, everyone. And remember: Every time you Tweet, you might as well be stabbing Earth in the heart.

See you tomorrow.

The Internet: A Cash Cow Waiting to be Milked

2009-04-21T17:11:00.009-04:00

Making money off the Internet is a piece of cake. Since it interconnects all the computers of the world, the Internet allows you to offer pretty much anything regardless of relevance, and someone, somewhere will buy it. For instance, I thought I’d never clear out my attic full of rare Mongolian “Stars of Wrestling” trading cards. But then the Internet came along and now they’re selling like шарвин!

It’s just not rare Mongolian trading cards either. You could start a web-based business and offer services or entertainment to the people of the world. The possibilities are nearly endless. But it’s important to know what you’re doing. Whether it’s selling crap on eBay or, heaven forbid, starting a web-comic, you need the Internet savvy to get some of that sweet, sweet cash money into your pocket. Let’s break it down.

1. PRODUCT
You need to know what the people of the Internet demand, so that you may be the one to supply it. The most common demand is porn, but if you don’t feel like doing that, there are other things that aren’t as soul-crushing. You can sell your art, your stories, your kidney, or do some freelance work by selling these services. You can offer entertainment to the people of the Internet: Show off that creepy talent everyone in your family hates (you know the one) on You Tube, and soon enough, you’ll be VIRAL and people will be making shirts of you doing your “back dislocation” gimmick.

If you have no services or talents to offer, then sell random junk on eBay. Seriously, anything lying around the house can be sold there. Button from your least favorite shirt? SELL IT. Plastic picture frame with a photo someone else’s family in it? SELL IT. Dog? SELL IT. The possibilities are ENDLESS. And if throwing away your crap isn’t your thing, you can offer one product and have a million auctions going on at once, ALL OF THE SAME THING. Take for example … zippers. Not pants with zippers or jackets with zippers, just the zippers themselves. I mean, I don’t even have to explain it, do I? This is pretty much the best idea ever, and I’m selling it in an auction right now (That‘s right, you can sell IDEAS, too!).

2. TARGET THE CONSUMER
So you’ve got your product picked out. You know what you’re selling, but do you know who you are selling to? Sticking with the zippers example, which demographic am I going to target the selling of them to? Old ladies perhaps, who spend them time knitting pants and jackets. Maybe a Chinese sweatshop needs hundreds of thousands of zippers at a low cost. PERFECT.

The Internet will help you keep track of your target demographic, keeping you updated on new sweatshops or old ladies in need of a shady online salesman. If you see a need, FILL IT. Why can't YOU be their shady online salesman?

3. KEEP BUSINESS AFLOAT
Now that you have your customers, it's best to get to know them; to anticipate their needs. If you know it's close to Thanksgiving, you should know Old Lady Selma in Oregon needs a triple shipment of zippers, for this is when her immense family gets together to receive their unwanted knitted and unnecessarily zippered clothes. And if Tao Chung just received a new shipment of illegal Chinese immigrants, you better start doubling orders and asking for next day delivery. When you are this nice to your clientele, they will never leave you.

4. FINDING A HOME
Up to this point, we'll assume you've been using eBay to sell all your zippers. However, eBay cannot be the hub of your business forever. After all, you've got regular customers and a nice flow of cash coming in. This is as good a time as any to start your own business. Here are some tips to keep in mind when creating your own business.

I. NAME
The name of your business is pivotal to the success if said business. You're selling zippers, so the name should be something catchy and easy to remember. In this case, simplicity should be your concern, since you are dealing with non-English speaking and old and forgetful clientele. Don't worry if you have to "move off the reservation" and pick a name unrelated to zippers. We'll go with . . . "Nice," because you want to reassure the elderly folk that you are trustworthy and not at all sketchy, and also I'm pretty sure "nice" means "That one online zipper company that is not at all sketchy" in Chinese. WIN-WIN.

You also want to add a suffix to the name, depending on the type of business you have. You can go with LLC., INC., CORP., CO., or & ASSOCIATES. As tempting as "Nice & Associates" sounds, we'll go with Nice Co. here, to keep with the simple theme.

II. WEBSITE
You want your website to be spectacular. Make sure you hire the best webmaster and server to design and run the site, keeping style and quality in the highest of priorities. Use as many animated GIFs as humanly possible, and use TONS of ads, so that some extra revenue can be made. See? You're not just a zipper salesman after all. Oh, and don't forget the long animated intro with like flying zippers, kung fu stuntman, and explosions!

III. LOGO
A logo is the face of your company. And since it is such, why not make it YOUR face? Pick a flattering photo of yourself to serve as your company's logo.

IV. SLOGAN
A funny, memorable catchphrase always works best. When potential customers think of your slogan, they feel reassured, that they can trust you with their needs. It should be something everyone likes to hear, something common that makes you feel welcome and safe. In this case, we'll go with "WE WON'T STAB YOU." Ah . . . Nice and safe. . . .

You can tell it's a Zipper Company.

5. ENJOYING YOUR MONEY
This part is incredibly easy. After about two weeks (really, that's all the time it should take. If you have been trying to make money on the Internet for over two weeks and have nothing to show for it, you are obviously a shitty businessperson.), you are most likely rolling in dough. Your Pay Pal account should be filled to previous unimaginable limits, with at least 8 FIGURES. The common term for this stage of the online money making is "Figure Eighting." When you are figure eighting, you have completed the process, and you may now move to France and live in the Eiffel Tower with all the other online millionaires. CONGRATULATIONS.

See you tomorrow.

This Means War

2009-04-20T09:19:00.007-04:00

Today is April 20th, which is another day in April synonymous with weird things like Hitler's birthday, smoking dangerous amounts of marijuana for reasons not entirely explained, and, more tragically, school shootings. There are plenty of things to be said about all three of these mainstream occurrences, and it was in fact my plan to talk to about these THINGS, but something else has come up that has made me rather cross and I need to rally the troops. Why?

Because we're going to war. With Wikipedia.

That's right, Wikipedia has deemed the subject of "Jordan Cwierz" so insignificant that they want to delete the article about me as quickly as they can. And they don't care how many times they have to do it, they just keep doing it. I set up the Jordan Cwierz article on Wikipedia yesterday so that everyone can edit it, then when I checked back later to see if there was any progress, there was a tag basically saying "THIS SHIT AIN'T REAL, IT'S GOIN' GIT DELETED, YA FOO." Naturally, I was slightly taken aback by Wikipedia's sudden change in attitude. Try as I might to save it, the article was swiftly deleted. A minor setback, I thought. It occurred to me, as I was setting up the page again (which would be swiftly deleted once more), that Wikipedia has become unpleasantly proficient.

I spent the rest of the day creating the article over and over, and even a couple of READERS tried to keep it going, but alas, HILARIOUS and CREATIVE information like this, which was written by Courtney, will not be seen on Wikipedia anytime soon:

Jordan cwierz

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Jordan Cweirz was born in 1957, in Nuuk, Greenland. He is part of an extensive network of professional whale watchers known as Whale of a Time Whale Watching. He is also an AVID fan of Hugh Grant and all of his works. His lifelong dream is to go whale watching with Hugh Grant on his boat, the Regal Grant, and have a lovely candle lit dinner of suassat and Greenlandic coffee.

Jordan Cwierz's favorite color is 'deep fuscia' closely followed by brown.

Jordan Cweirz's middle name is Fantasmagorically-Ahmaysing, which is a family name, passed down for many generations. His last name can be spelled either Cweirz, Cwierz, or KA-WEE-ARE-ZUH. It is pronounced "Tah-low-ging-fan-pool-gah"

The whole thing has made me angry. No one takes Wikipedia seriously. No one but themselves. And apparently there is a measure of importance actually needed to have an article made about yourself. All this has led me to believe that Wikipedia is a FASCIST WEBSITE ("free encyclopedia" my ass!), and it must be LIBERATED! And for that, we must do what is right: Skip the peaceful no pants protests and go straight to MILITARY INTERVENTION. I'm talkin' WAR!

Of course, as simple as that solution is, we cannot go to war with Wikipedia. I have no standing army, and I don't think I can borrow Mexico's or something. So instead, we'll have to come up with an alternative. Something that isn't Fascistpedia. And that promise land, that free state we can escape to, that AMERICA, is Unclyclopedia. Note the tagline, "The content-free encyclopedia." It's like a welcome sign, tailor-made for us. So this is where we shall conduct our business. Then, when it's full of LIES and DECEIT and looks RELATIVELY ORGANIZED AND REAL, I shall plant it in Wikipedia, like a bomb waiting to detonate, and they shall be oblivious (presumably) to the fact that while the article looks legit, it is in fact NOT.

This is what happens when you make good, hardworking people—who like to write lies— angry, Wikipedia! The storm's coming! And you'd better break yourself.

In the meantime, take off your pants, write some rhyming anti-Wikipedia chants, and write some blatant lies! It's time for war. . .

See you tomorrow, troops.

UPDATE: Evidently, it is just as impossible to use Uncyclopedia as it is to use Wikipedia. So here's what I propose NOW. Email your fake facts and blatant lies to WarWithWiki@yahoo.com and I shall edit them all into one giant MASS OF LIES and post it on Wikipedia. Let's see if THAT works, yes?

Lazy Sunday

2009-04-19T11:59:00.009-04:00

Maureen Johnson is a saint.

I was sitting around last night, watching NASCAR and straining my brain while trying to think of something worth writing about. Next thing I know, Maureen sends me a mysterious message saying she has a challenge for me. In fact, she said she had "SEVERAL" challenges, one of which was to be done that night.

Intrigued, I accepted her challenge, which was to make a video and post it before midnight. My brain quickly went to the failed video I made back in early April, and how that was a disaster. But I figured it didn't have to be good, it just had to get done.

Panicking, I grabbed the video camera to record, decided to capture it directly to the computer to save time, and went on to squeal in a high pitched voice what was going on and trying pathetically to add content to it. The final result was this:

Not brilliant by any means, but the challenge was complete. Now I am actually stoked to find out what will be next in this CHALLENGE SPECTACULAR. Only so because it will give me something to write about for a couple of these final 11 days. But I am a little curious if I have only scratched the surface, and these challenges will get progressively difficult and more maddening. I would not put it passed Maureen to sit down in her free time and think of ways to torture people, then seek me out as a guinea pig to see if I am killed in the process. If that's the case, I'm honored. Overall, though, I want thank Maureen for giving me MATERIAL.

Changing gears, I've been rereading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince so that I can get reacquainted with the story. I realize now that this was a great idea, since the last time I read it, I was fourteen years old. It's almost like I hadn't read it at all, there's so much I'm rediscovering.

I was never one for rereading books. I always thought Well I finally finished this and have the knowledge, so I don't ever have to read it again. But I'm dumb, naturally that's the wrong perspective. Book are actually very similar to movies, in that when you experience it again, you see more, feel more, and enjoy it more. So I am also going to reread Deathly Hallows afterward. I'm on a reading rampage! One worthy of Rambo.

In other news, why are you not flocking to Wikipedia to show off your creative writing skills? And when I say creative writing skills, I mean "your ability to make up fake and random facts about a person."

If you need a jump-start, I am going to actually create the Wiki article for you and put in the picture, but I want YOU, the READER/CREATIVE PERSON, to write ANYTHING. Even if you have to steal John Green's "[insert name] is a gay" joke. It's not original, but it's a START.

I mean, if I can be challenged to make a video and post it to You Tube in a matter of minutes, you can write some crazy stuff on Wikipedia in your free time. That's all I want. I know Wikipedia isn't extremely user friendly, but I'd appreciate all the participation I can get; I'd be ever more appreciative if I can you guys to show of your TEAMWORKINESS*.

If you need to be rallied, feast your eyes on this:

Write now, right now!

Here is a link to the Wikipedia article, for your editing pleasure: Jordan Cwierz.

So, stay tuned for any updates on any random challenges from Maureen or unknown strangers.**

See you tomorrow.

*Try to work that in somewhere.

**Isn't "unknown strangers" kind of an oxymoron? Of course strangers are unknown to you, that's why they are called strangers and not — oh, I don't know — Know-You-Already's.

Car Soccer and Wikipedia

2009-04-18T08:58:00.006-04:00

There are many things in life I want to accomplish. Just the other day, I became enthralled by the possibility of owning my own alpaca farm. I want to go to college. I want to travel and see the world. I want to live life to the fullest. And now, on the heels of another BBC early morning viewing, I want to do this:

Now, I don't know how you can argue that this isn't the greatest thing ever. Need I remind you they are playing soccer with CARS? What I want to know is. . .

HOW CAN I MAKE THIS HAPPEN?

Granted it would all be very expensive and even a little bit dangerous, but given the opportunity to partake in madness such as this, who could say no? I certainly couldn't.

A quick Google check tells me there are no "Car soccer leagues" anywhere in America. Which is so very disappointing. Once again, America is lagging behind the rest of the world in AWESOME CAR BASED SPORTS. How much longer can we stand on the sidelines as our Australian and European friends continue to play car soccer without so much as a challenge from the USA? THINK ABOUT IT. If you are a true patriot, you'd want to get the ball rolling on car soccer.

And what better way for America to finally embrace the worldwide phenomenon of soccer than to slowly integrate its rules into the minds of the citizens by combining the two things Americans loves: Cars, and a mutual dislike of Europeans.

I could not be any more for car soccer. I think it's a shame the world was deprived of it prior to this. And yes, I'm just really excited, and maybe, I will forget about it after I see something else that is awesome on the BBC (like alpaca soccer?!), but right now it's time for us to JOIN TOGETHER and get car soccer mainstream! And soon after that, an Olympic sport, then all soccer will be replaced with car soccer, and the game played with humans will be the obscure one, and it will have to be called "human soccer." THIS IS MY NEW GOAL IN LIFE.

Goal. Get it?

But there is no time for puns! Please, show your support for this great cause of making my spur-of-the-moment dream come true. Let us form great numbers, march on Washington, and demand CAR SOCCER! They will hear our rhyming chants all throughout the nation, and if we must, we will go as far as to remove our pants to get what we want! BECAUSE THAT'S HOW WE ROLL.

GO AMERICA!

In other news, there is a new challenge. Remember these? Yeah, there hasn't been one since April 2nd, but here we go anyway

CHALLENGE #3:
WIKIPEDIA PAGE = IMPORTANCE

I've said before that people are only important (or interesting I believe was the word I used) if they have a Wikipedia page about them. If you type in your name, and a picture of you pops up, then you are an important person. The information given within the article is not so important. It's the principle of the thing.

So for your challenge, I want you, the READER, to show off your amazing skills of teamworkiness* and writing savvy to make a Wikipedia page about me, Jordan Cwierz.

Now, I know I'm not extremely important, but who else are we going to make it about? Jackie Jormp-Jomp? I THINK NOT. But together, you can make me SEEM important, because the twist is, the only necessarily true thing that needs to be within the article about me is the picture. The rest I am leaving up to your creative imaginations! You could say I am an actual alpaca farmer, or a professional car soccer player. You could even say I live in 14th century Europe. I WANT YOU TO BE CREATIVE.

Together, you can pull your resources (which are your brains) and create one hell of a confusingly hilarious Wikipedia article about someone no one really knows. I look forward to seeing what, if anything, comes up.

The winner? We are all winners, but you are rewarded with the triumph of knowing you can do something amazing if you put your mind to it. What's that? You already know you can do something amazing if you put your mind to it? GOOD. Then look at this as adding your resume of amazing things you can do with your mind.

GOOD LUCK!

See you tomorrow.

*Not a word, but it should be.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER III

2009-04-17T11:26:00.004-04:00

If it's Friday, so that must mean it's time for KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Reading Rambo (which I just realized would be an awesome nickname) is locked and loaded for your questions, and is semi-automatically shooting out lead-cased bullets of TRUTH.

Ló asks: How do you pronounce your last name?
A question definitely worthy of an answer. I was born into a family with a last name cursed to be mispronounced for my entire life. I cannot blame anyone in my family, for it is their burden as well. The name Cwierz is Polish, and was, at one time, written as Cwierzski. But for whatever reason, the suffix was dropped long ago and now it is even more baffling.

Those who know German or Polish might be able to figure out the pronunciation easily, but since the majority of people in America are not fluent in these languages, I suppose I will reveal the correct way to pronounce it:

"Sweerz." One syllable, wherein the "C" is pronounced as an "S," and the "wier" is pronounced like the word "pier." The "z" is the normal one in the bunch.

As you can imagine, there have been many ill-fated attempts to pronounce my name correctly. Only a couple of people have EVER said it right the first time they read it. And only a handful after that have come close in their first attempt. The most common mispronunciation is "Choirs," in which the "C" is like a "K" and the "wier" is "wire."

The first person to ever pronounce it correctly was a man working at Graceland (Elvis' home) in Memphis, Tennessee. We were touring the house, and the workers there wore name tags that had their hometown written under their name. One man was from Poland, so my father pulled out his driver's license and asked him to pronounce the last name.

"Sveerz," the man replied simply. His instinct to read "w" as "v" was very impressive, and sometimes when I want to be fancy, that's how I will tell people to pronounce it. My father was rather pleased with the man's response, and he took a picture with him later, so that we may forever remember this momentous occasion.

Kiera Jo asks: Would you rather be in a relationship with 1)someone who was really loved you but had poor social skills around absolutely everyone else or 2)someone who was a real people-person but didn't seem to like you any more than he/she liked people in general?
The old Catch-22, eh? A shy person who loves me, or a social butterfly who finds me no better than the people she talks to. I think number 1 in this case is my preference. I think finding someone who loves you unconditionally is a lot to ask for, so when you do come across this person, and the feeling is undeniably mutual, you can't be too picky about the smaller things. I don't necessarily believe I need someone who likes talking to other people.

Bigger problems like stalking, lacking common sense, or derangement are things to worry about, but society tends to put too much emphasis on the value of good social skills. Shy people get by just fine on their own.

Keila inquires: What do you think about Harry Potter?
I don't know him personally, but he SEEMS like an okay guy.

Though I assume you mean the book series. I really do like Harry Potter. It is loads of fun to read, and definitely does not skimp on the story, emotion, and action. But these are all things books should do. What sets the series apart from others, in my opinion, is the timelessness of it all: like no matter who, where, or when you read it, it is enjoyable. The classic underdog hero and struggle against good and evil doesn't hurt either.

Miss print wants to know: What's your stance on extraneous quotation marks?
Before I answer, let me thank you for a question pertaining to English language, a language I hold very near and dear to my heart, for it is the only one I can speak without screwing up (most of the time).

So, you want to "know" where I "stand" on "'extraneous' quotation marks"? I can't "get" enough of "them," as demonstrated earlier in this post.

Erin asks: Would you rather become famous for being an actor, a politician, or a singer?
Actor, no doubt. Politicians work too hard, and singers are always on the road. If I'm an actor I can still entertain as if I were a singer, and have the extra funds to do helpful things as if I were a politician. And the rest of my time would be spent making movies and going to the Bahamas. DO YOU NOT SEE THE LOGIC IN THAT?

Erika Lynn wonders: Would you consider doing another one-day movie marathon with either Pirates of the Caribbean or Star Wars??
NO.

Well. . . maybe. We'll see. If I feel up to it later in the month, I'd do for a Star Wars marathon. But now that I think about it, a Pirates marathon would be good too. I have some thinking to do.

Thanks to everyone who had questions! There is only one more Friday this month, and since I cannot be bothered to come up with an actual blog, I will once again rely on you to ask questions for me! So ask away!!

See you tomorrow.

Twilight: Movie Review

2009-04-16T10:43:00.010-04:00

I have talked before about my ignorance when it comes to Twilight. For instance, did you know that it is a four book series? I DIDN'T.

In an attempt to get more informed, I rented the movie and watched it a couple nights ago. At the conclusion, I didn't know how to feel, so I waited a few days. Still, my emotions are mixed. (I've never reviewed a movie before, but here I go trying anyway.)

The whole idea of girl-falls-in-love-with-vampire on the surface is a very off-putting story. This was about as much as I knew about the series when I started the movie, and it didn't get any less strange when the movie ended. I get the feeling the whole thing is very Romeo and Juliet-esque, only with vampires. Which is to say, the vampire thing—while integral to the story of this first installment—just seems kind of gimmicky to me. You could replace the Cullens as vampires with the Cullens as ninjas or assassins and you'd get the same thing. In the following sequels, the novelty of the vampire thing runs the risk of wearing off, but I don't know; I'm still ignorant on the matter.

I didn't like the pacing, and sometimes the stunts were just plain laughable. I couldn't hold in the snickers when Edward and Bella "climbed" to the top of the mountain. Supernatural abilities is not usually a trait of the vampire, nor is sparkling diamond skin. I DON'T GET IT.

The movie itself is kind of shallow. It basically serves as a visual synopsis of the book. It doesn't really go deep into emotion how I assume the book does. I never feared for the characters or understood how their feelings came to be, and this is why most movie adaptations never work. There is a lot of setup for the second part, and the movie seems like a giant exposition with only the one unsatisfying climax.

In all, the movie probably just serves as a way for people who are new to the franchise like me to get acquainted with everything and to set up the next, hopefully more interesting second installment. And there's nothing wrong with that; they're just trying to get more people talking about Twilight and dressing up like vampires and making it all mainstream. At least, that's how I felt about it.

I'm sure if I were to read the books I would enjoy it more, which is true for most books adapted to movies. I'm not yet sold on Twilight, and I thought the movie would help clear away my doubts, but now I find myself more on the fence about it than ever before. I know I'm not the target audience for Twilight, and I think that's the biggest problem.

That is just my opinion right now. Perhaps someday I will come around, see the light, and everything will be dandy. It's happened before, and I'm not going to condemn a four part series after the first part did not wow me. So there is still hope. DO NOT HATE.

Edward of the Jungle?

Moving on, tomorrow is Friday, which means KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. So as usual, leave your questions and I will answer them tomorrow to the best of my ability. No question is too lame! For instance, I'm surprised no one has asked how to pronounce the haphazardly placed letter sequence that is my last name. That's an excellent question, worthy of an answer!

And I have joined the newest cultural revolution: Skype. So add me to your contacts or however that works. My user name is JayOrDan23. I'm still getting acquainted with the whole thing, but I'm looking forward to seeing all the BEDA bloggers on there! Also, if you have not yet joined, DO IT NOW so we can be a happy family.

Now if you excuse me, I must brace myself for the attack of the Twilight fans that will inevitably rain down on me, even though my opinion really doesn't matter to them or anyone. But you know, everyone wants to like likable things, right? I welcome any constructive persuasions though. That would be much appreciated. Get me off this fence!

See you tomorrow.

This Day in Mystery

2009-04-15T12:52:00.010-04:00

April 15th is a very important day, especially this year. Not only is it the halfway point of Blog Every Day April and the much dreaded Tax Day, but it also holds significant historical value. Abraham Lincoln died on this day in 1865. In 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg and sank to the depths of the ocean. And Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball by making his debut for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947.

Depending on who you are (Southerner, hydrophobic, racist), these were either great events or horrible tragedies. But these are just the more well known events that have taken place on this particular day. There are some events just as pivotal or tragic that have been overshadowed by these "mainstream occurrences." Let us delve deeper into the calendar, and recall some events not many people knew even happened. . .

April 15, 1452 - Florence, Italy
Leonardo da Vinci is born. A conspiracy theorist later discovers that da Vinci used his birth as a cover up for the fact Leonardo was never born, but instead leaped out of a mural painted in the village of Vinci. Of course, there is no proof of this, so the theory was swiftly accepted as fact.

April 15, 1783
After much delay, the preliminary articles of peace between the U.S. and Great Britain is ratified, officially ending the Revolutionary War. There was much disagreement on whether or not the document should include note that Great Britain "only lost because they weren't expecting a bunch of sickly colonists to talk the smelly French into helping their then-frivolous cause. We're just saying, is all." Much to the shame of the British, the note was left out, making their defeat all the more embarrassing.

April 15, 1865 - Washington, D.C.
Following the death of Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson is sworn in as President of the United States. He vowed he would make Lincoln's presidency all the more glorious by comparison, so he purposely screwed up Reconstruction of the South and was impeached. He was not forced out of office, a regret he held till the day he died.

April 15, 1899 - Leonding, Austria
One day at school, 10 year old Adolf Hitler has an encounter with a Jewish boy: Hitler insists he was next in line for the slide during recess, but the Jewish boy had been there all along. Hitler becomes enraged at the boy for no valid reason, and swears retribution on the boy for this outrageous travesty.

April 15, 1924
Rand McNally publishes its first road atlas. "It is our hope," read the inside cover of the atlas, "that with this map of roads, you will never be lost again." In the coming months, reports of missing people skyrocketed throughout the country. Police are able to connect that all of these people had planned a road trip and had obtained a Rand McNally atlas. Outraged protesters picketed the Rand McNally headquarters—or at least they would have, had Rand McNally made a more accurate atlas.

Note the absence of outraged protesters.

April 15, 1930
Nine days after their creation, Twinkies claim their first heart-related death. A 323 pound man named Howard Hopkins ate one of the snacks and suffered a heart attack almost instantaneously. To honor his passing and this tragedy, Hostess named the snack "HoHos" after him.

April 15, 1949 - New Haven, Connecticut
George W. Bush slips and hits his head on a linoleum bathroom sink. Doctors noted there was no "evidence of skull or brain damage," after examining the toddler. You hear that, George Bush? NO EXCUSES.

There are other hidden truths behind this mysterious and infamous day, far too many for me to list on my own. But those who are diligent will be able to uncover other facts perhaps not even I know, or even things the government does not want you to know.

For instance, it is known that in the early 1950's, the government used Area 51 to test nuclear bombs and to house aliens and other extra terrestrial secrets. This is fact, plain and simple. But what was never revealed was that the base was also used to manufacture TIME MACHINES. For years, the government denied time machines were being made, and argued that the technology was not available to make time travel possible.

Who do they think we are? We've seen the Twilight Zone, Futurama, and pretty much every show on SciFi network, so we have been exposed to the reality that time traveling is not only possible, but already happening.

An early 1950's time machine prototype.

This is why Tax Day was moved to April 15 in 1955 with no reasonable explanation. It is EXTREMELY LIKELY that in a time traveling mission gone awry, a butterfly effect occurred and the only NOTICEABLE CHANGE in the present was that Tax Day had been moved from March 15th to April 15th. Can you think of another halfway decent explanation? If so, I will refuse to believe it.

Happy (altered due to a snafu in a time traveling mission) Tax Day, everyone.

See you tomorrow. 15 down, 15 to go.

All About Alpacas

2009-04-14T10:40:00.006-04:00

Last night (or this morning, since it was 1am), I was doing my usual ritual of lying in bed watching BBC, when an interesting commercial appeared on my TV:

Naturally, I was INTRIGUED. To think, all these years I've been trying to move forward in life, putting all my effort into my future, when I could have been BREEDING ALPACAS. Of course!

My curiosity brought me to their website, Alpaca Info.com, where there was a plethora of information regarding owning and breeding Alpacas. There was even an magazine I could subscribe to! Yes, A MAGAZINE ABOUT ALPACAS. How has this world been hidden from me up till now?!

On the website, I clicked on "About Alpacas," since, despite my enthusiasm, I don't really know what an alpaca does. I mean, I can make the assumption that it poops, eats, mates, and possibly spits, but these things are obvious in most living creatures. Here's what I learned:

Alpacas were a cherished treasure of the ancient Incan civilization... Alpacas were first imported to the United States in 1984... There are two types of alpacas - the Huacaya and the Suri. The lifespan of the alpaca is about 20 years and gestation is 11.5 months. Alpacas eat grasses and chew a cud. Adult alpacas are about 36" tall at the withers and generally weigh between 100 and 200 pounds. They are gentle and easy to handle. Alpacas don't have incisors, horns, hooves or claws. Clean-up is easy since alpacas deposit droppings in only a few places in the paddock...

Alpacas produce one of the world's finest and most luxurious natural fibers. It is clipped from the animal without causing it injury. Soft as cashmere and warmer, lighter and stronger than wool, it comes in more colors than any other fiber producing animal (approximately 22 basic colors with many variations and blends).This cashmere-like fleece, once reserved for Incan royalty, is now enjoyed by spinners and weavers around the world.

These AOBA people make them sound too good to be true, so I started to believe alpacas do not really exist and there is a parallel universe where easily maintained animals happily give you their fur and you make money off their kindness. But I soon found out they really DO EXIST and people really DO MAKE MONEY by selling alpaca fur.

"Is this where the money comes out?"

However, it turns out that alpaca breeding is more of a business than a money making machine. Which isn't very surprising, but still a little disappointing. Most alpaca farms are run by retired people or people who have nothing better to do, so while I may not be able to run an alpaca farm RIGHT NOW, I could still have one as a pet.

I can easily picture myself with an alpaca as a pet. Depending on its gender, I would name my alpaca either Rabodoandrianampoinimerina Ranavalona if she were female, or Bob if it were a male. I would walk Queen Ranavalona or Bob down the street, wearing my outfit composed of nothing but the finest alpaca fibers, all the while getting looks of jealousy from my alpaca-less peers.

Just imagine the conversations that would arise. . .

Jealous Passerby: "My word! Is that an llama you have there?"
Me: "Of course not, you ignorant peon. This is an alpaca."
JP: "What is the difference?"
Me: "The difference is llamas are smelly and do not deposit droppings in only a few places."
JP: "Now I understand! Thank for you this enlightening exchange. Please, take this blank check to do with what you please."

Am I crazy to believe that owning an alpaca would make people want to give me blank checks? If I am, I don't want to be sane.

Continuing to navigate the website, I clicked onto the Alpacas Magazine to see what kind of topics are covered. I browsed the covers of some of the recent magazines, and here are some that stand out to me:

"Head covers to die for!"
What is a head cover? And why would one be so amazing that I would choose death if I could not get one?

"2009 Mid-Winter Conference Wrap-Up"
I have been waiting to hear all the newest gossip and rumors from the 2009 Mid-Winter Conference! On a related note, what is the Mid-Winter Conference?

"Bob Eubanks - Renaissance Man, Hollywood Style"
Seriously? Bob Eubanks on Alpacas Magazine? Now, I can understand why they say he has Hollywood style, but would a Renaissance man have coined the phrase "Making Whoopee"? I THINK NOT.

"Alpaca Condoms?"
Are you asking me? Because I have no idea how that would work. And now that the idea is in my head, I am going to go throw up.

I hope they remembered their Alpaca Condoms...

Perhaps some day I will have an alpaca to call my own. Maybe my alpaca will make me rich with money, or rich with happiness. But all I can do now is dream of what it may be like, because in all honesty, I am not going to get an alpaca, and I'm sure if I did, I'd regret it in a matter of weeks. Also, it wouldn't be long before the AOBA mind-stealer comes knocking on my door, wanting my alpaca's blood type and selling me alpaca condoms.

Sorry, but it's not worth it.

See you tomorrow.

How to Drive in L.A.

2009-04-13T15:30:00.002-04:00

Los Angeles. . . You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. At least, when it comes to driving.

Los Angeles county, where I grew up, is a labyrinth of freeways, complete with traffic, bad drivers, and more traffic. The area has its own traffic-copter, whose sole purpose is to hover above the freeways and tell you if the traffic is bad and if you need to avoid it. In the morning, when you turn on the news before you got work, you wait to see weather, headlines, and TRAFFIC.

I learned to drive there, so I feel like I know the ins and outs of how to deal with the numerous freeways, traffic, and bad drivers. I will share with you this knowledge, so that if you ever find yourself in L.A. or traffic comparable to that of L.A., you can relax and know that you have the information you need to get through it. Let's get started:

FREEWAYS
L.A. County is composed of a complex system of freeways, which span in every direction known to man (and some known only to trolls). With freeway numbers spanning from 5 to 605, it is almost guaranteed that you will become confused when driving on them. You could be going along on one freeway, minding your own business, then suddenly realize you've somehow ended up in Mexico. This is because the freeways tend to change unnecessarily without warning, and if you are not paying CLOSE ATTENTION at all times, you will miss the sign the saying, "TURN HERE TO NOT GO TO MEXICO."

Which way to Not Mexico?

This reminds me of a story. One day after school, I had plans with a girl of special interest to me to go eat somewhere. The location of the easting establishment was easily accessible from the side streets, but I had just earned my license and I wanted to show off and act like I knew how to navigate the tangled web of freeways, which was COMPLETELY FALSE.So we took the freeway, and the moment I merged into traffic, all hell broke loose: Cars were zooming passed, gigantic trucks were changing three lanes at a time, and I'm pretty sure I saw to racecars—who I assumed were racing—also zoom by at mach speeds. Needless to say, the was a terrifying experience, and I didn't even know which to get off on.

Long story short, we got lost. I'm pretty sure we were lost for at least three days, the whole time just a matter of miles away from where we started. But I had no idea where to go. I had no idea what I was doing. The freeways were smarter than I was, and I was a fool to think I could tame them. On that day (and the two that followed), the freeways won. We were only able to get back because we were found by search party that had been formed. (They were actually searching for a real lost person, but we asked them to rescue us anyway.)

So how do you, some just as unfamiliar with the Evil Freeways as me, survive on them? SIMPLE: You avoid them. It may be tedious, but Los Angeles is a big place, so everything can be accessed via side streets, and while they take longer than if you were to successfully navigate the freeway, it is less likely you will end up Mexico inadvertently.

BAD DRIVERS
I don't usually advocate stereotyping. It is unfair to make a generalization of a group of people based on what others believe to be recurring theme in behavior. That being said, let me point out that there is a high population of Asian people in L.A. County, and I can safely say that I have seen no evidence to disprove that they CANNOT DRIVE.

There is explanation for why Asians seem to be involved in more. . . Let's call them"driving debacles." It just seem as if they are unlucky, or do not always follow the simplest rules of the road. Most of these driving debacles aren't serious crashes, but more like sudden lane changes right in front of you, merging ever so slowly towards your car without checking to see if you're there, random brake checks in the open road, slowing down to a snail's pace to get into a turning lane when the light ahead is green and you want to go straight but you have to wait for their stupid Toyota to just GET OVER ALREADY. You know, the little things that annoy other drivers.

To be fair, it is not just Asians. There are just some stupid people out there whom by some miracle got a license. People who show no regard for safety protocol and will drive through a crosswalk full of little schoolchildren and kittens. People who do things others call "morally unethical" or "borderline insane," like buy a huge pickup truck and put huge tires on it then drive around ten feet higher off the ground than everyone in attempt to compensate for VARIOUS THINGS. They boggle my mind, these people.

I suppose the answer to combat bad drivers is one rule that was preached to me when I started to learn how to drive: Always drive defensively, as if no one can see you. Which, in California, they often cannot see you.

TRAFFIC
Traffic is sometimes inescapable, even if you do not always drive on the freeway. Most of the time, the cause of traffic on side streets is due to traffic on the freeway, thus leaving the other cars wanting on the freeway stuck waiting on the side streets. So if you thought the Evil Freeways couldn't get to you if you avoided them, you WERE WRONG.

You think this is bad? You should see rush hour.

So what is the cause? I'll tell you. It's not the accidents, no. Accidents on the freeways are 9 out of 10 times quickly cleaned up by the police and paramedics and others. They do a tremendous job of clearing the lanes for the flow of cars to return to its normal speed of INSANITY. The real culprit is the dozens of people who SLOW DOWN to look at the MAYHEM. Usually, the drivers on the freeway want to go ridiculously fast, but show them a dented car and WHOA NELLY! They gotta check it out. Just another paradoxical example of why driving in L.A. will cause you to go insane.

It is difficult to deal with traffic. You can't do anything. You want to, though. You want to stop that jackass up ahead from changing from the far left lane to the the first one, but you can't do anything to stop their tactless method. You want to tell people up ahead to stop staring at other people's misfortunes, and you want to tell the person behind you to quit creeping up every five seconds when THERE'S NOWHERE TO GO.

The best way to cope is to kill time. Sing a song, write a book, count the cars in front of you, or watch the cars on the other side go zooming passed while wishing it was you. There is no other way, unfortunately, as the Evil Freeway's will is much stronger than yours, and it will do what amuses them: confusing and torturing drivers.

It is no picnic, driving in L.A. It takes patience and knowledge, which is something not all people there have. But if you ever find yourself there, dealing with these issues, just know that it doesn't get much worse. To this day, I have only driven on the complex freeway system three times, and I do not hope to add a fourth anytime soon.

See you tomorrow.

Easter, Hankrolling, and Taxes

2009-04-12T10:08:00.000-04:00

Today is Easter, so today's post will be short because I've got, you know, family stuff happening. But there are still some matters of business to attend to.

First, I failed the "Read Every BEDA Blog" challenge yesterday. I only made it halfway through the list of 400 blogs before I had to throw in the towel. But I had good reason! It was taking forever—about seven hours to do half. I did the math, and I didn't want to stay up until 11 o'clock reading and commenting on blogs. I would like to thank SpliceGal, who offered to finish off the list on my behalf, so maybe it wasn't a total loss. So thanks go to her!

Second, there has been a lot of Hankrolling going on lately, so early Friday morning, I used the BEDA09 Twitter feed to trick SOME PEOPLE with the following tweet:

BEDA09: Special SEKRIT BEDA side project! Bloggers unite! More info: http://tinyurl.com/d93lxj

Naturally, I thought it was hilarious! Here are some of the replies that soon I soon began receiving:

Morgan_Johnson: OMG, Jordan! NOT FUNNY.

KarateTentacle: JERK.

SushiTrain: Oh you are a tricky one

KorrianneSpeaks: DAMN IT! Hankroll gets me every time!

Livin4Hymn: *scowls*

BrittSays: AHHH NOT AGAIN.

DigitalFare: Just got Hankroll'd. . . Why do I click? WHY??

Starlysh: Ohhh BEDA. I saw through John's car and Maureen's crying blog...but you got me. Congrats.

And my most favorite of all came via direct message by Maureen. . .

I KILL YOU, JORDAN!!! I KILL YOU DEAD!

Maureen went on the tell me that I was now on her LIST, which may refer to the one filled with people to kill, if I'm not mistaken. But then she got me back with a trick of her own, and naturally I was steamed. So I guess we're even and now I have no reason to Hankroll in the near future.

Third, if you go to the main page of Maureen's Ning, there are some Easter Eggs for you planted by Maureen and I. I don't know how much longer they will be up there, so go quickly!

And finally, so that this blog is not completely devoid of quality work, here is a special Tax Day related list I whipped up:

10 THINGS THE IRS WON'T TELL YOU

1. "You say your taxes are late because you procrastinated? No problem! We'll deal with it!"

2. "We have your refund, but you have to say 'Pretty please with sugar on top' to get it!"

3. "Did you know 'IRS' really stands for 'Intoxicating Rose Scent'? We really like flowers."

4. "If you turn in a blank sheet as your tax return, we'll send you a blank check!"

5. "We select every 102,390th tax return and AUDIT IT. Just for fun!"

6. "You can tell us you have 23 kids when you really only have 2. As long as we see a social security number, we won't double check whose it is!"

7. "There are hidden deductibles most people don't know about, like the amount of money spent on bacon-related hospital bills!"

8. "We sabotage the people at H&R Block and the Turbo Tax software so that no matter how correctly you've filled everything out, you never get your full refund. If you're wondering why, let me remind you: WE'RE THE GOVERNMENT."

9. "There is a secret Double Refund program for people with confirmed doppelgangers."

10. "You look nice in those jeans."

HAPPY EASTER.

See you tomorrow.

Party Etiquette

2009-04-11T00:56:00.002-04:00

People ask me all the time, “Jordan! You’re such a master of everything and are devilishly handsome, so you must get invited to parties all the time! I need to know how to best conduct myself when I go to a party, because I always end up getting drunk and waking up in Mexico. Help me, please!”

Naturally, I can hardly stand to hear people talk this long, not to mention whine. But they are right: I am devilishly handsome, and I am invited to parties all of the time. In fact, I’m at one right now, so my track record pretty much speaks/is speaking for itself.

While getting drunk and waking up in Mexico ranks high on terrible party outcomes, it could be worse. When you blackout and wake up near a smoldering pile that was once a house, and you are holding a Molotov cocktail in one hand, and the President’s underwear in the other, there’s going to be some repercussions. Then there’s always the embarrassing alternatives of being asked to leave, having called security on you, or being defenestrated from a party. To avoid such embarrassment, your goal at any party should be not only be to become the life of the party, but to see it through to the end.

As a party connoisseur, I find it is my duty to stay until the party ends, because only then can I be sure that it was worth staying to the end for. While you, a laymen, just show up for cake or snacks and leave after an hour? FORGET IT. A party isn’t complete until it has run its course, and then it is time for it to be judged critically and harshly.

Sometimes, though, it can be hard to differentiate between a good party and a bad one. Fortunately, I’ve constructed a nifty formula that will get you the answer you are looking for:

Start out counting the set of napkin stacks there are at the party in question. This is your base number. From there, multiply the variety of beer brands (Bud and Bud Light are not two separate brands, people). Then subtract the number of guests who are over the age 27. Add the number of kegs present, and then divide by the number of beer bongs. Then multiply by the number of police visits. If the cops broke up the party, but it started again later in a different location, add 23. Add the number of hours the party lasted. If the result is greater than 32, the party was a success and should be talked/blogged about as such.

Though I bet you’re wondering what all this has to do with party etiquette. The truth is, it has EVERYTHING to do with party etiquette. The party’s worth is paramount to the way you should act during and after the party.

For example, if at the end of the night the party is deemed a failure, there are codes of conduct that must be followed, because the party host and venue owe you for wasting your time. So to make up for it, steal something from the house or rented auditorium: Maybe a nice painting, a clock radio, some chairs, perhaps a urinal, you decide. If stealing isn’t your thing, or other people did the math quicker than you, you can explain the situation to the host or hostess and demand reimbursement. The average rate is 46 cents for every hour of the party’s duration. Don’t feel bad, think of it as their comeuppance for all the other bad parties they may have thrown.

But before you can deem a party's worthiness, you must become the LIFE OF THE PARTY. To accomplish this, follow these steps and you will be a party connoisseur in no time.

STEP 1: Style
You must never be under-dressed to any event. This is why I wear my tuxedo to every shindig I go to, even if it is a child's birthday party. You can never be TOO CAREFUL, after all. You may get some odd looks, but it's better than wearing a t-shirt with a picture of that talking wall-mounted bass that always ONE PERSON wears at any party.

Dressed for success.

STEP 2: Socializing
It's vital that you be the most INTERESTING person at the party. I don't care if Albert Einstein's corpse has become reanimated and is solving complex math equations for everyone, you have to TOP HIM (and after that, shoot zombie Einstein in the head).

You can try showing off by making up a story about how you saved a baby penguin from a melting glacier. If anyone points out you've never been to Antarctica, ask them why they hate baby penguins. That will shut them up and make you look better in the eye of the baby penguin-sensitive at the party. Score. If you are one of those goody goodies and hate lying, then you can always tell your more boring story of how you had to carry your groceries through the back door of your house because the front door squeaks and you do not want to disturb the sleeping baby penguins next door. Actually, this is another good story. SCORE.

If all else fails (which is to say, if you are at a party where no one cares about baby penguins), go ahead and make a fake commercial about how awesome you are. You can play this commercial when you are at the party (after you've covertly placed the DVD in the player, figured out the input on the TV, and turned on the surround sound). BOOM. INSTANT SCORE.

Step 3: Seal the deal
So you look good and you've got their attention. Now it's time to seal the deal and become the life of the party. Try out some AWESOME DANCE MOVES you learned from Steve Wozniak or sing some karaoke (even if there is no karaoke machine. This is called thinking outside the box). Surely your fellow party-goers will see you mean business, and you will become the talk of the event, and as a result, the life of the party.

Step 4: Eliminate the competition
You won't be the only one gunning for life of the party status, so you need to watch out for the competition. Watch for people trying to woo the other guests with crazy tales of saving polar bear cubs or something stupid like that. Your job is to keep one step ahead of them by making your stories more awesome (by LYING) and your dance moves more more dancey. And if they start hitting on the party host or hostess, you must one up them by seducing the host or hostess. Thus is the life of a party connoisseur, my friend.

So perhaps now you are not so ignorant on the ways of the party expert. I guarantee that if you follow these steps, you will become the life of any party. Then with some simple calculations, you can see if it was even worth becoming the life of the party in the first place. That's what parties are all about, and if you think otherwise, YOU HAVE LEARNED NOTHING.

Enjoy the perks of being the life of the party, for they only last for a short time. And to clarify what exactly the perks of being the life of the party are. . .Well, you usually get to cut the line to the bathroom, so that's pretty good. PARTY ON.

See you tomorrow.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER II

2009-04-10T10:21:00.011-04:00

Though my brain is still a little gelatinous from yesterday's challenge, it shall not derail the train of KNOWLEDGE (and its affiliate, POWER). So today is another blog dedicated to the spreading of a transmitted disease you DO WANT: Knowledge. Ready? GO.

Are you really going to comment on every BEDA blog on Saturday?
Yes.

Why is reality TV so addicting?
Reality TV is addicting because of all the conflict. When reality TV shows first started, this conflict was natural and was therefore all the more addicting. But nowadays, producers control all the conflict by throwing curve balls and manufacturing their own dramatic situations. Kind of like putting a snake and a mouse in a cage together and seeing what happens. Then making billions of dollars off it. Even big network shows like "American Idol" do this crap now, and it's a shame because it's so blatantly obvious. And E! Channel is pretty much nothing but these half-reality-half-scripted shows. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON "THE HILLS." Oh, how I hate "The Hills."

So to finally answer your question, reality TV is addicting because even when it's just actors yelling at each other and being stupid and drunk and eating cow penis, it's strangely entertaining. And if people are entertained, no matter how false your TV show is, you make money. I hope this helps.

What is the most absolutely hilarious joke you ever heard?
There is no single joke that stands out in my mind, except for Bill Cosby's "Jesus Christ" routine, seen here:

Also, if you like Harry Potter humor, and everyone does, click here.

What is your favorite animal and why?
This is such a difficult question because I want it to be a really cool animal like a Dragon-Cat or Rhino-Tiger, or some other type of weird hybrid that could never survive outside of a laboratory. All I can think about when I hear "favorite animal" are moose. So I guess that's your answer. A moose. Why? Because. . .I'm pretty sure they're indestructible.

How far from home have traveled? Did you like that place?
The furthest from home I've been was when I lived in California and I went on a school trip to Philadelphia. I enjoyed the history of the city like the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. I also like that all the manhole covers were steaming inexplicably. I didn't like that it was raining and that there were wild chickens and bushels of crabs everywhere. But now I understand why this is so.

What is your favorite book and why?
The Areas of My Expertise and More Information Than You Require by John Hodgman. Those two books really changed my writing philosophy.

Can you train a zombie to do tricks?
Not me specifically, no. You'd have to go to a zombie trainer. And those are very expensive, because they do not exist. . . YET.

What's your favorite kind of weather?
Sunny, but still very cold. I like the contradictory nature of it all, and weather like that was rare in California. It usually comes around in autumn, which is my favorite season. So it all fits, see?

What kind of music do you listen to?
This is so easy that I am not going to use any contractions so that I can stretch out this answer as far as I can to make it not seem so short and boring. But the answer to your question is as follows: They Might Be Giants.

I can safely say that about 94% of the music that I listen to is by They Might Be Giants. And this isn't because I avoid other bands, it's because all the shows I happen to watch have music by them. The Daily Show and Malcolm in the Middle just name a few. I can't see myself ever loving any other music, because I feel like they make it specifically for me. What more could you ask for from a band? Besides having them on call to perform at your house. NOTHING.

Who is your favorite author and why?
This is so difficult to answer. If you asked me two months ago who my favorite author is, I would have told you on the spot that it's John Hodgman. But now, he is slowly being weighed down on the Libra scale by someone else: Maureen Johnson. Whenever I read her work (and this is true particularly with her blogs), it invokes the same emotions that Hodgman's work does: I laugh, I contemplate the extreme dexterity of what I just read, then I feel like I can never think of something so cleverly funny. So right now, John Hodgman and Maureen Johnson are at the top.

If you were to have a brilliant talking stuffed animal (like Free Monkey), what animal would it be and what kind of adventures would you go on?
A brilliant talking stuffed animal, you say? Well it would probably be a Tyrannosaurus Rex, just because, you know, how often do you see that? His name would be something weird like Tompkins. As far as adventures go, he'd probably always be like, "Let's go kill and eat creatures smaller than us." Naturally, we would clash on every subject and continually question why we're friends in the first place. We'd probably end up hanging out in the mall making fun of people that walk by or throw eggs from the overpass onto the freeway. You know, FUN STUFF.

Thanks to Addie, Alysia, Book Chic, Christie, Kat, Paula, and Chelsea for all the questions! I'm goint make KNOWLEDGE IS POWER a weekly feature, so leave your questions (of any type or subject) in the comments and I shall answer them next FRIDAY.

Tomorrow I am going to read all the BEDA blogs on the BEDA Roll Call, and comment on them all too. So make your Saturday blog either interesting or short!

See you tomorrow.

Lord of the Screen

2009-04-09T18:17:00.010-04:00

When I asked to be challenged, and Erika Lynn suggested watching all three Lord of the Rings movies back-to-back, all in one day, I thought it would be no problem. I thought that I could endure, that I had the attention span to last over nine hours of constant screen-staring. And for the most part, I was right. BUT IT WAS CLOSE. I began to lose my mind near the last hour of Return of the King, but I endured and I did it.

I kept notes on what was going on in the movie and my thoughts and how I was feeling. And in doing so, I noticed some recurring themes in the three films. See if you can spot some of them. I took about 9 1/2 pages of notes by the end of it all, so naturally, I cannot put all of them here in this little blog post, so I will sift through them and cut out the fat and give you the gist of my experience.

8:51 am: Wake up. I overslept. I wanted to get up at 8, but since I live on the east coast, the Angels' night games come on very late here, and even though it was game 3 of a 162 game season, I had to watch the majority of it.

8:55 am: Business first: go on the computer, check the Ning—nothing new yet. Check email—no new BEDA bloggers. Excellent.

9:00 am: Might as well get dressed. Won't have the opportunity to until about 6pm. . .

9:11 am: Fellowship of the Ring begins.

9:15 am: Oh look, an epic battle scene. The first of what will be many.

9:16 am: "The power of the ring was too great," says the narrator. "Really? It had nothing to do with him being ten feet tall?" asks my Dad. "Don't be silly," I tell him, "It's clearly ALL THE RING."

9:19 am: Hobbits? Shape the fortunes of all? HOW UNLIKELY.

9:22 am: Never realized before how incredibly cheesy this first scene is.

9:23 am: "He's not a hobbit, right?" asks my Mom, referring to Gandalf. "I'm writing that down," I reply.

9:35 am: The ring can control MINDS. I am convinced, and always have been, that the ring is a character in itself and more evil than any Nazguls or gigantic eyeballs.

9:45 am: So the ring and Sauron are one, connected to each other kinda like Harry Potter and Voldemort. Are spiritual connections like this the basis of all conflict?

9:51 am: Been awake for an hour. Feeling good. Also, Saruman is a total cynic. The guy's a prick.

9:52 am: Observation: Wizards and big noses go hand-in-hand.

9:54 am: EPIC WIZARD FIGHT

10:03 am: Underhill is a good pseudonym. I am fond of compound words as last names.

10:11 am: One hour in. Saruman begins destroying the trees. A parody of today's world, I'd say.

10:31: Whenever Hugo Weaving's character speaks, I think of Agent Smith from The Matrix. I half expect him to end every sentence with "Mr. Anderson. . ."

10:53 am: Very loud movie. The rumblings made the dogs start barking.

10:58: This is no mine. . .It's a SPACE STATION.

11:00 am: Another near death experience for Frodo. I'm not counting but I think that's the third one so far.

11:02 am: Gandalf just did some serious foreshadowing.

11:07 am: "Fool of a Took!" I think I shall use that insult from now on.

11:09 am: More rumbling, more barking.

11:11 am: 2 hours in. EPIC BATTLE against troll on Mines of Moria. Feeling good, not restless yet.

11:19 am: This demon thing looks like a boss out of the Legend of Zelda.

11:20 am: "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Great use of Wizard Stick.

11:27 am: More foreshadowing.

11:48 am: EPIC BATTLE SCENE.

11:50 am: Boromir's dead. No wait, he's still fighting. Okay now he's dead.

11:56 am: FELLOWSHIP = EPIC FAIL

11:58 am: Near death experience for Sam. When will he learn FAT HOBBITS CAN'T SWIM?

12:02 pm: End of Fellowship of the Ring

12:08: The Two Towers begins.

12:10 pm: "YOU SHALL NOT PASS"? Where have I heard that before?

12:12 pm: I believe the song "Free Falling" by Tom Petty would be great background music for Gandalf's fight with Zelda Boss.

12:14 pm: "Nothing dampens your spirit, does it, Sam?" NOT WHEN IT COMES TO FOOD.

12:16 pm: EPIC. . .Hobbit fight?

12:22 pm: "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard-gard-gard"

12:24 pm: More deforestation.

12:31 pm: EPIC ORC CIVIL WAR!

12:41 pm: Treebeard. More compound words as names.

12:45 pm: Near death experience for Frodo.

1:01 pm: When will Frodo learn that you can't trust schizophrenic psychopaths?

1:06 pm: That's not his walking stick. That's his WIZARDING STICK. FOR WIZARDING.

1:20 pm: Frodo's losing it and getting PMS apparently.

1:35 pm: EPIC MOUNTED BATTLE.

1:42 pm: Aragorn fell of a cliff. What a shame.

1:44 pm: Pippen and Merry are still with that tree. I think they spend the whole film in the woods.

1:45 pm: Aragorn is still alive. What a surprise.

1:48 pm: More foreshadowing. But then again, saying that someone is going to die eventually isn't a very bold prediction.

1:59 pm: The only dumber thing than trusting a schizophrenic psychopath is betraying a schizophrenic psychopath. WAY TO GO, FRODO.

2:16 pm: Legolas is some sort of horn expert, I guess.

2:18 pm: Racist remark by Gimli.

2:20 pm: EPIC BATTLE SCENE. IN THE RAIN!

2:35 pm: Beginning to feel sleepy. . .MUST REMAIN STEADFAST.

2:43 pm: EPIC NAZGUL BATTLE!

2:48 pm: Sunlight > Orcs

2:49 pm: EPIC TREE BATTLE.

2:51 pm: Water > Orc Factories

2:52 pm: Near death experience for Frodo.

2:54 pm: Sam attempts to break fourth wall.

2:58 pm: Smeagol's turn to foreshadow.

3:00 pm: End of The Two Towers.

3:03 pm: Start of Return of the Jedi. I mean King.

3:05 pm: Another epic hobbit fight?

3:22 pm: Gandalf sleeps with his eyes open. Must be MAGIC.

3:36 pm: Lots of dialogue.

3:43 pm: Near death experience for Frodo.

3:48 pm: EPIC PLOT-MOVING BATTLE.

3:51 pm: Numerous piles of wood are lit. THIS IS NOT HOW TO KEEP MY ATTENTION, PETER JACKSON.

4:01 pm: This Steward of Gondor guy has no facial hair to speak of. What kind of Lord of the Rings character is he?!

4:08 pm: Frodo tells Sam, after countless miles of trekking and almost being killed multiple times, to go home. TALK ABOUT A SLAP IN THE FACE.

4:12 pm: EPIC GONDOR ~~BATTLE~~ DEFEAT!

4: 30 pm: More dialogue. Some ghosts show up too.

4:34 pm: EPIC CITY-DESTROYING BATTLE.

4:35 pm: This flesh colored Orc sounds like Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget.

4:40 pm: Near death experience for Sam.

4:44 pm: EPIC GIANT SPIDER FIGHT.

4:47 pm: Near death experience for Frodo.

4:49 pm: Near death experience for Gollum.

4:53 pm: Near death experience for Frodo.

4:54 pm: Sam returns. Another giant spider fight.

4:55 pm: Light > Giant spider

5:01 pm: How do the soldiers in the back hear these rallying pre-battle speeches?

5:05 pm: Steward of Gondor dude catches on fire and dies. SHOULDA HAD A BEARD.

5:16 pm: Elf > Olliphant

5:21 pm: ANOTHER EPIC ORC CIVIL WAR.

5:33 pm: When will it end?? I don't know if I can take much more. HALP.

5:34 pm: Another pre-battle speech no one can hear? NOT HELPING.

5:36 pm: Racist remark by Gimli. THAT HELPS.

5:37 pm: EPIC DIVERSION BATTLE.

5:39 pm: Ugh, quit talking about hazel thickets and strawberries and get to the MOUNTAIN.

5:42 pm: EPIC EAGLE FIGHT.

5:47 pm: Death experience for Gollum.

5:49 pm: Sauron. . .um, collapses. Yay I guess.

5:51 pm: "Yes Mr. Frodo, it's over now." I CAN HAS CREDITS DEN?

5:55 pm: My brain feels like it is about ooze out of my nose.

5:59 pm: Resolution crap. . .

6:13 pm: More unsatisfying resolution crap.

6:15 pm: End of Return of the King. SUCCESS!

It definitely wasn't easy. I don't think I'll ever do anything like that again. It was un-stimulating, time consuming, snd strangely exhausting. Thanks for sticking around. Come back tomorrow for KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Leave your questions or advice-seeking in the comments.

See you tomorrow.

Famous Encounters

2009-04-08T11:38:00.006-04:00

Growing up in L.A., I was exposed to much of the happenings of Hollywood, and living in proximity to the nation's entertainment capital, it was not rare that a famous person crossed my path. But don't get me wrong, it didn't happen every day, either, so these run-ins with "celebs" were still much appreciated.

Now, I'm not one of those people who get all nervous and sweaty and giddy when a celebrity is in eyesight. I keep it cool. I crack a joke and tell them, "Say hi to your mother for me" all Mark Walhberg-like. At least, that's what I tell myself. In reality, most of my celebrity meetings have been, on a social scale, mediocre. Others have gone surprisingly smooth, which is how I planned it. I have compiled a chronological list of notable famous people I have seen in public or met personally.

Joe Pesci - Pacific Palisades, CA - 1991
The lovable Mr. Pesci made an appearance at the Celebrity Pro Am at the Riviera Golf Course in 1991, and my parents went to watch the stars beat tiny spheres with clubs. I was, as you may have figured out, a baby at this time, but even though I do not recall this particular event, it was still me and Joe Pesci in the same place at the same time. COMPLETELY FAIR.

From what I've heard from my parents, Joe was there, golfing and stuff, and somehow he came in close contact with them. I DON'T KNOW THE DETAILS. I know they took a picture with him, which I was not in. (Which begs the question: WHERE WAS I? I hope my parents weren't like, "Oh look, Joe Pesci! Let's approach him. Drop the baby, he will just slow us down." In their defense, I was a fat baby.)

Andre the Giant - Las Vegas, NV - 1992
Another instance in which my youth was an obstacle. I once again had to rely on my parents' description of the event, which is: We were in a hotel and we saw him sitting at a bar as we walked by. My mother remembers eavesdropping on him, but she doesn't remember what he was saying. She DOES remember him wearing some beat up, old tennis shoes, which I believe they were bursting at the seams instead of worn out. But then again, I can't know for sure, can I?

I try to picture him as having to sit on three bar stools and towering over the bartender, his head continually bumping the ceiling lamps that give bars that great depressing atmosphere. He holds a barrel of beer in one hand, a Mini Cooper in the other. His blue ox named Babe sits on a stool next to him.

Wait. I think I'm confusing him with someone else.

This is Andre the Giant, lumberjack extraordinaire, right?

Charlie Sheen - Angels Stadium - 1993
At a ball game with my Old Man, famous person Charlie Sheen walks down to his seat DIRECTLY in front of my father and me. I of course have no earthly idea who Charlie Sheen is at the time (and even to this day, he baffles me), but my Dad is excited about the whole famous-person-in-an-every-day-place-doing-every-day-things-like-me,-an-every-day-person, thing. Ten minutes later, a stadium official (or usher, as they were known in the days before rap) walks down to Charlie and speaks to him. Charlie follows the man up the stairs. He doesn't come back, presumably having been offered a seat in a suite with the other famous people. He is no longer doing every day things.

Santa Claus - Cerritos, CA - 1996

I am well aware of the many Santa impersonators. I have met many fake Santas over the years. But this particular Santa HAD to have been the real St. Nick. If he was not really Santa, then he was a committed actor worthy of praise. The beard, the attire, the fatness. . .all flawless. I was half expecting him to give me a jack-in-the-box or a wooden toy train, like the real Santa would. But he took it to another level: he gave me a CANDY CANE. How could this man NOT be Santa? CASE CLOSED.

John Linnell & John Flansburgh (They Might Be Giants) - Los Angeles, CA - 2005
This evening was great. Here I was, in a crowded record store in downtown Los Angeles, watching my favorite band perform on what is probably the smallest stage ever. They Might Be Giants rock the classics, like "Doctor Worm," "Robot Parade," "Particle Man," "Birdhouse in Your Soul," and "Istanbul (not Constantinople)." After they almost explode my brain with awesome music, I get a copy of their new album signed by John and John. OH SWEET, HAPPY MOMENTS. Even Flansburgh's wife, who sang some songs herself, signs it. How nice!

Honestly, this was a kind of surreal moment for me. I'm lucky I have a picture taken, because everything just seems like a big rushing blur now. I'm sorry, there is nothing funny that can be said. It was TOO AWESOME.

Vince Vaughn - Los Angeles, CA - 2005
Waiting in line to meet John and John (not so chronological now, is it?) at the Amoeba Records store, Vince Vaughn pops in to buy some records. Because what else do you do at a record store? Besides see a concert.

Anyway, so there's Vince Vaughn, who was at the time at the peak of his hilarity, having been in movies like Dodgeball and Anchorman. As luck would have it, he is browsing CD's right next to us, and my mother swoops in as if he were Joe Pesci or something. She gets his attention, but he tells her he has an ear infection and can't hear very well. So my mother raises up and yells in his ear, "WE ARE BIG FANS OF YOUR MOVIES. YOU ARE VERY FUNNY IN DODGEBALL." He says thanks and stuff and we get a picture with him, in which he looks like a zombie. (When the Zombie Apocalypse rolls around, watch out for Vince Vaughn.)

Must...not...sleep. Need...brains...
(I've got my eye on you, Vaughn.)

Cloris Leachman - Atlanta, GA - 2008
Coming home from California (the trip which had the Day Nothing Went Right), Cloris Leachman happens to be on our plane. I do not know this, as she is in First Class. At the airport in Atlanta, I walk toward the bathroom and here a voice that reminds me of the grandmother from "Malcolm in the Middle." I do my bathroom business and see my mother, looking at an old lady.

"That's Cloris Leachman," she tells me.

"Is she the grandma from 'Malcolm in the Middle?'" I ask.

"Yes, and she was in Young Frankenstein and the 'Mary Tyler Moore Show', too."

We decided not to bother her and move on. But when we stopped to get some food before leaving the terminal, my mom saw she was all alone with her son and couldn't hold back anymore and swooped in like she had just seen Joe Pesci or Vince Vaughn or something.

So we start talking to her, and she is super nice. Like always, we tell her we love her roles and everything she's done. My mom asks for a picture and Ms. Leachman agrees, so my mom gives me her cell phone to take the picture with. I take one.

"Let me see it," Cloris says. I hand her the phone. She examines it closely, like she is deciphering ancient hieroglyphics on papyrus (which is how all old people look when it comes to technology). "I don't like it," she finally decides. "Take another."

So I do. She wants to see it again and once more says to take another. And I do.

Cutting ahead, it took several pictures for her to decide which one she likes. But she finally picks one and we say goodbye and go on our way. Nice lady, though.

John Hodgman - Atlanta, GA - 2008
John Hodgman came to Atlanta on his book tour in late 2008, and I wasn't going to miss him. Fortunately, we had to go to Atlanta to pick up my brother from the airport the same night. So we got him and went to the Barnes & Noble where he was appearing. He did his reading, which included tearing a page out of someone's copy of More Information than You Require and calling out a guy for trying and failing to explain the arcane Star Date calendar from Star Trek.

"Well I know today is November 19th," Hodgman said to the man. "That's the Gregorian Calendar, motherfucker." BRILLIANT.

The night before, he was on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, and had mentioned growing up in Brookline, Massachusetts and that the handshake they shared at the beginning of the interview was the Secret Brookline High School Handshake. So when I got the chance to meet him, I told him it was honor to partake in the legendary Brookline Handshake. He laughed and said, "Thanks for watching television," which he wrote in my copy of his book when he signed it.

When I asked him for what advice he'd give a young aspiring writer of fake facts and humor, he told me "Don't do it. I don't need the competition," then told me of some websites to read and participate in to cut my teeth. Great guy, and I thank him for re-inspiring me to write once again, which I found I could still do after reading his first book. I owe him a lot. But he doesn't know that.

This is really me, really shaking hands with really John Hodgman.
Really.

Yes, I have met/been in contact with/seen in public many famous and well-known people. I'm sure you have too, and as usual, I want to hear your stories.

Also, TOMORROW, I will watch all three Lord of the Rings films in just one day! Will I survive? STAY TUNED!! Then Friday is going to be another KNOWLEDGE IS POWER Q&A blog, so leave your questions for me.

I was also challenged to read and comment on every BEDA blog on the roll call, which has about 385 blogs on it. I'm not sure I could get that done without my eyes melting, but I think I'm going to accept this challenge as well. I'll do this on Saturday. You hear that, bloggers? I'M COMING FOR YOU.

See you tomorrow (I hope).

Where I Stand

2009-04-07T10:23:00.015-04:00

We've known each other for just about a week now, and our relationship as "guy-who-writes-stuff-down" to "people-who-read-that-stuff-and-enjoy-it" can't get much better than it is right now—because if you've been reading this long, I assume you're no longer "testing me out." I've learned a lot about you, the READER, in the short lifetime of this blog. For example, I know that you love impossible lists, cats who chase fluffy tails, bad days at my expense, Reading Rambo, and real life Pokemon. So as our relationship develops, you need to know where I stand on several worldly issues, such as:

ZOMBIES v. UNICORNS
A classic conundrum. Unicorns are definitely more pleasant to look at, and they certainly won't eat your brain. So on the cute and cuddly front, the unicorns have the edge. But zombies are undoubtedly more bad ass. I mean, COME ON. Zombies have an unquenchable thirst for human flesh and organs and will stop at nothing to get what they want (Hint: they want YOU). Plus, they have danced with Michael Jackson back when he was sane. All the while, unicorns gallop on rainbows and have an unquenchable thirst for water and grass. Also, do you ever hear of the imminent UNICORN UPRISING? FORGET IT.

Now, I wouldn't want to be near either: I have a crippling distrust towards horses of ANY KIND, particularly ones with dangerous HORNS JETTISONING FROM THEIR SKULL. And zombies, still, want to EAT YOUR BRAIN. It's really a close call when you break you down. But. . .

Where I stand: Zombies. If I'm going to die, I'd prefer my brain be eaten to my eyes being poked out.

Has Michael Jackson ever danced with unicorns?
NO. HE HASN'T.

LOVE v. MONEY
This is a difficult one. I love money, so that would mean having money would be something I'd love. But just because I have money—which I love—doesn't mean I have love around me. So I'm not sure what good all the money does if there's no one to share the experience of being filthy rich with. But with all the awesome things you can do with money, perhaps love is not a necessity in life.

On the flip side, love is a great thing. Almost indescribable, really. It's more like something you need to experience for yourself to know what it's like, and all those romantic comedies could not do it justice. Love means you don't have to be lonely, and even if money isn't something you have, you still have someone to be poor with, which may be more important than anything else.

Where I stand: Love. I love money, but I love love more.

BOOKS v. MOVIES
Books are easily deeper than most films. Movies these days try to attract some of the weaker minds of society who do not want to peel away the layers of a complex story and instead have the criteria of BOOBS? (Y/N), EXPLOSIONS? (Y/N), COMPOUND FRACTURES? (Y/N) (Answer key: 2 out of 3 = GOOD MOVIE). But I love movies. I want to watch and dissect movies and try to make them as complex as books. I find British movies to be better at this, for whatever reason.

Meanwhile, books are consistently satisfying. I don't think I've read a book I didn't enjoy or question the motives of the creator (unlike so many, many movies). Books are definitely a better source for complex stories and human emotion. For lack of term that isn't a pun, there's more to READ INTO when it comes to books. For me, I love both. But if I had to pick one. . .

Where I stand: Books. I love a lasting, complex story, and not all movies are Watchmen, Star Wars, or V for Vendetta, so books win out for longer experience and deeper storytelling.

A movie about a two different books that were both made into movies?
You just blew my f#*%king mind.

PIRATES v. NINJAS
Unlike most of these WORLDLY ISSUES, this one is not so close. I mean, when you look the body of work when it comes to pirates and ninjas, it is always the NINJAS who win out. Pirates go around drunk, making a mess of everything. Ninjas on the other hand go through rigorous training and become highly skilled in not only killing, but doing in a way that isn't as MESSY. Ninjas go unseen in plain sight, while a pirate's curved bones and lackadaisical outlook on oral hygiene makes them all to easy to identify.

Where I stand: Ninjas, hands down. They never sang songs about being bad eggs, and if they did, it'd be the last thing you'd hear.

There are 23 ninjas and 1 eccentric pirate in this picture.
Which one can you spot before it kills you?

PUPPIES v. KITTENS
Both are so freaking cute, they make me want to explode inexplicably. I've grown up with dogs, so I know firsthand the adorable things they do when they're trying to figure out the what's what of the world. I've never had a cat, but they are awesome creatures. They do all the cool things humans wished they could do: Tongue grooming, super vision, and fall-on-feet ability. Cats are also excellent for taking HILARIOUS PICTURES, because they are always getting into cute and crazy situations. Also, kittens have adorable speech impediments.

Cuteness overload. Inexplicable explosion imminent.

I find dogs excellent pets when it comes to playing, while cats are a little more laid back. My opinion is, if you're looking for a pal, get a dog. If you're looking for a cuddle bug that chases fluffy objects like squirrel tails, get a cat.

Where I stand: Puppies, because I'm biased. I'd love to have a cat as a pet someday. I have nothing against cats. Do not hate me, cat lovers.

So these are just some of the WORLDLY ISSUES that eventually come up in conversation later on in a relationship. Now that my cards on the table, you must tell me where YOU stand on these issues. I will not hate you if you disagree with me (except if you pick pirates over ninjas. I mean, seriously). Tell me where you stand in comments!

ALSO, challenge me! Give me your challenge ideas and I'll pick one out for Thursday, which is when I will do it and then tell you how it all went down. So far the best one I've seen is "watch all three Lord of the Rings movie in one day." But if think you have something else, share it! Thanks in advance.

See you tomorrow.

Humble Beginnings

2009-04-06T10:20:00.002-04:00

It's day six of thirty, and I've run out of ideas. Well, for now at least.

For me, the process of blogging begins at about 11pm when I write what will posted for the next day so that I don't have to worry about getting it done on the actual day. I use the rest of the day to think of what will be written later that night and subsequently serve as the next day's blog. In short, I'M ALWAYS ONE STEP AHEAD.

But tonight, the Tree of Knowledge bears no fruit, and not even The Churchill of Blogging herself could write a speech inspirational enough to get my ideas flowing. I'm afraid that this is a classic case of WRITER'S BLOCK. My mortal enemy. I did warn you this may happen, but I wasn't expecting it so soon. I don't enjoy writing about having nothing to write, because I feel like I owe you, the READER, something well thought-out and full of effort, because you deserve it. HOPEFULLY, this is the first of very few posts like this.

In my desperation for something to write about, I browsed the Internet. That didn't work. So then I thought I should put random links to distract you from how little content would be here. And then to distract you even further, a random video:

Needless to say, all this not-really-content content was a really good idea. It's like a car with a really fancy paint job and shiny rims and possibly flames painted on the side, and from the outside you say, "Man. That's a really content-filled car. That's satisfying to look at." But when you go inside the car you realize that it's AMERICAN MADE. OH SNAP! Yeah, I went there.

Luckily for us all, I went onto the forum at the Ning to find something inspirational, and someone, somewhere had posed the question, "What was the first thing you wrote?" YES. I can work this. Maybe my readers won't hate me after all. Here now are the thoughts that I transfered from brain to keyboard:

I don't remember the first thing I wrote. Though I'm sure it was some incoherent baby language written with mushy food on the wall. (Which begs the question: if an infinite number of babies with some sort of arrested development issue wrote on walls with mushy food for an infinite period of time, would they eventually write the work of Shakespeare?)

I do remember being told in second grade that I didn't totally suck at writing, and I was placed in the writer's guild, which was a little group of other second graders who also did not totally suck at writing. I don't remember much of the goings-on, but we may have went on strike because of inadequate juice boxes.

In sixth grade, every day our teacher gave a prompt for us to respond to or write about. I did not like the simple "This is how I feel about. . ." responses. No, I had to make it GLAMOROUS. I decided to FIGHT THE POWER and began writing HUMOROUS short stories. Most of these involved the Principal, who I believed to be a robot in disguise, and a not-so-superhero named Magnet Head, who was a clumsy, tutu wearing geek with a magnet on his head. I'd always volunteer to read my short stories to the class, and eventually the characters caught on and my classmates EXPECTED me to read them humorous short stories every day. I believe these were the first "fans" of my work.

I'd love to share some classic stories from my sixth grade journal, but alas I fear it is either severely misplaced or destroyed. I felt like that year was when I discovered writing to be a way to express my sense of humor, and I remember looking forward to that time in class where my mind could just be poured onto a piece of paper. GOOD TIMES.

In other news, the "Where's Richard?" challenge is over and now it's time to move on to the next interactive thingamabob. This time though, I want to be the one challenged. You can feel free to make me do anything that a) will not kill me, and b) will not get me arrested. I feel these are fair terms.

I don't have many ideas to get you started, but I recall once saying in a chat on the Ning that I had not seen the movie Twilight and that I would be open to watching it, COMPLETELY UNBIASED throughout, and come back with a report. But I don't know, we'll see.

Leave your challenge suggestions in comments, no matter how insane or juvenile they are (just no Peeps binge eating, please. Those who follow me on Twitter probably know why).

Hopefully inspiration comes a little easier and in time for tomorrow's blog. Oh, and Kasey, I'm going to need my brain back if I'm going to make it another day. COME BACK TO ME, BRAINY.

See you tomorrow.

The Day Nothing Went Right

2009-04-05T09:23:00.003-04:00

Sometimes, it's just not your day. You know, one of those days where all you have is bad luck and there's one setback after another and it makes you want to scream and punch an old lady. Usually, days like this are started at the DMV. But for me, the Day Nothing Went Right started 13 months ago at a video game store.

It was March 17th, 2008. I was in California, visiting my sister and some old friends. My friend Sean had reserved a copy of the much anticipated "Super Smash Brothers: Brawl" video game, and there was going to be a special midnight release at the nearby Game Stop. I told him I'd go with him and spend the night at his house and we could play the game and have pillow fights and braid our hair. So at about 11pm, we set off from his house on foot and walked to the Game Stop, which was about a mile away.

When we arrived at the establishment, we found ourselves mired near the back of a line that almost went back to his house. But we decided to wait nonetheless. But, of course, we were surrounded by some unfavorable characters. In front of us: a trio of prepubescent middle school kids whose geeky nature rivaled that of most World of Warcraft players. Behind us: Stoners. What were stoners doing there? I'm sure they didn't even know.

I jumped back and forth between eavesdropping on the two groups. The geeks talked about whether or not their schools used weighted-GPAs, while the stoners beat to death the phrase "You just blew my mind." It wasn't an ideal situation, and Sean and me both knew it. It only got worse when the stoners lit their pipes and the putrid smoke displaced the oxygen around me. After a while, when Sean and I were talking, one of the potheads interrupted us and told me, "Dude, has anyone ever told you that you look and act like Adam Sessler? Because you DO."

I had heard this before. However, I wasn't about to humor him, because then he would just keep talking to me. But I figured he may eventually pass out, so I gave him an uninspired, monotonous Adam Sessler impression: "We give it a five. . . out of five."

"Dude! YOU JUST BLEW MY MIND." He began laughing hysterically, as if Ben Bailey himself had just told him the cab he's in is actually a game show. Fortunately, he didn't ask for an encore, and he returned to his foggy area.

The line moved along and soon enough we were in the store. We got the game. We walked out. We could have gone back to Sean's. But the secondhand marijauna smoke had made us hungry.

"There's a Domino's down the street," I said.

"It's one o' clock in the morning. They're going to be closed," replied Sean.

I somehow convinced him we should at least check, because pizza sounded like the most delicious thing in the world right now, and not even Super Smash Brothers could take precedent. We made it to the Domino's, which was located in a small plaza with a few other stores and a 7-Eleven. The lights were still on. The excitement was palpable.

We walked up to the pizza place. I reached for the door. The lights went out.

"Aw, WHAT?!" I yelled at the door, which was locked. Was the store just TAUNTING us?

"Talk about a slap in the face," Sean said.

We'd have to settle for 7-Eleven, so we turned and began walking toward the convenience store. I noticed a man get of his car that was parked in front of the store. He was dressed in mostly black. He ran toward the store, looking like he was in a 100 meter race.

I nudged Sean. "What's this guy doing?" I asked. The man pulled a black ski mask over his head and entered the 7-Eleven.

"OH SNAP!" Sean said. I didn't bother replying ("Talk about a slap in the face" didn't need to be said; it was obvious). We ran across the street.

"Did that guy just go in there to rob that place?" I said, panting.

"I THINK SO." Sean couldn't stop yelling. We hid behind a bush and watched the store. Nothing was happening. "Maybe we we're seeing things. You know, maybe we're delirious," I suggested. We waited some more. Nothing. I assumed the clerk there knew how to deal with robbers, since he worked the graveyard shift at a 7-Eleven. It's a prerequisite to work there ("Can you 'DEAL' with robbers? Check 'Y' or 'N'").

"Whatever," Sean said. There was a donut shop on this side of the street, still open. "Let's go here." We went in.

The store was owned by an old Filipino man. He stood behind the counter, talking to another person at a table who was on a laptop. There was a hazy hue to everything once we entered the shop, like some weird incense was burning and distorting everything. I figured it was opium or nitrous oxide. Sean approached the man and told him we wanted a dozen donuts. I waited for something to go wrong.

"Un dozen donut comeeng oop!" the owner said. We picked out the ones we wanted, our faith in the world returning to us each moment nothing exploded. After we picked twelve, the owner said, "I trow een un mawr fawr oo." He picked up a random donut and put it the box. We paid. We bolted. I noticed the 7-Eleven's parking lot was empty.

"There was something weird about that guy," I told Sean as I grabbed a donut, steering clear of the free one he had given us. "I'd stay away from that free one he gave us. He could have put some kinda voodoo curse on it. That, or a tapeworm." So we didn't eat it.

Finally, we were back at Sean's. We had until 3am to play before we had to go to bed. We got there at 1:50am. We started it up and tried it out. Not but twenty minutes later I noticed it was 3:14am. DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME. Today. OF COURSE.

We tried to get away with playing passed 3am, but Sean's parents got all crazy and told us to go to sleep already. So we did.

We woke up and started playing the game, finally tasting the fruits of our labor. After an hour or two, we realized the game was very repetitive and actually kind of boring. Icing on the cake. It seemed rather fitting, I thought.

I don't know if those potheads ever got their copy of the game, if that's even what they were there for. I don't know why the Domino's had its lights on until I reached for the door. I don't know what happened with the man presumably robbing the 7-Eleven. I don't know if the free donut was cursed, and I don't know why Daylight Savings even exists. But I do know that days don't get more unlucky than that.

Talk about a slap in the face.

See you tomorrow.

P.S. Bryn found Richard! Congratulations!

Weekends are for Superstitions

2009-04-04T11:40:00.004-04:00

WARNING: This blog contains copious amounts of sports-related talk. But there is very good reason for this, and it should not be too confusing if you hate sports.

When the weekend rolls around, I do my best to embrace the relaxing nature these two days are intended for. I don't usually do a good job, but I told myself, "Dang it, Jordan. You're going to relax this weekend. You deserve it."

What better way to relax, I replied telepathically, than to go to a children's softball game? The right side of my brain had no objection, so off my family and I went to the ballpark.

My nine-year-old cousin was playing today, so all the family was there to watch her and the other children swing at the air and fumble the ball. IT'S OKAY THOUGH, they're only kids, after all. I didn't go to the game to see star athletes brilliantly field the ball and rifle it to first base in time to get the out, or to see outfielders make diving snow-cone catches to end the inning. On the contrary, these children were quite stationary. And like I said, THAT'S FINE.

HOWEVER, some parents believe their child's play to be a reflection of their own athletic ability and/or parenting skills. These parents will scream at the team like it was Game 7 of the World Series and they had $1 million dollars riding on the game. Which is completely understandable: You want to be enthusiastic about the game, to show your support for your kid. And if that's how you choose to do it, GREAT.

But it's when a close play goes the other way or someone makes an error do these parents get steamed. They blame the ref, who is usually a 16 year old girl who probably gets yelled at enough at home, and they blame their kid, saying "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE LIKE A RETARD TRYING TO HUMP A DOORKNOB OUT THERE! IF JESUS CHRIST WERE TO RETURN TO EARTH RIGHT NOW TO TAKE US TO HEAVEN, I'D TELL HIM TO LEAVE YOU BEHIND!"

"Sorry kids, Jesus only takes good players to Heaven."

So when the first inning finally ends (and all the children have been scolded), it's time to watch my cousin and her teammates try to hit the ball. This is when the coaches start giving out their arcane hand signals, which I'm pretty sure the children don't even fully understand. One child swings a little late at one pitch and the coach yells, "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE INSIDE FASTBALL? WAIT FOR BREAKING BALL OVER THE PLATE. DID YOU NOT GET THE SIGNAL?" Of course, the child has no idea what to do now. Confused out of her little head, she swings and strikes out on a wild pitch.

After more innings of parents yelling ("HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME RICH WHEN YOU GET OLDER IF YOU CAN'T EVEN CATCH THE BALL?"), and the coaches throwing clipboards, the game ends. I wonder if some of these kids even wanted to play softball. I'm sure at one time, probably in the beginning, it seemed like fun, but with all the pressure being put on by the adults around them, I'm sure they really don't want to play anymore. Even my cousin got a talking-to by the coach for incorrect base running. I guess he's trying to explain the fundamentals and whatnot, but wait until they join the high school team when they can yell BACK to yell at THEM.

I don't mean to be overly critical, but I think sports like this (you know, the kind for kids) should be reserved for fun. If the coaches want to have a perfect, flawless team, why the hell did they sign up for softball for nine-year-olds? I DON'T KNOW.

One reason I cannot always relax on the weekends is BECAUSE of sports, and not just the ones involving parents screaming at children. I'm extremely superstitious when it comes to sports. I am a firm believer that what I wear on the day of a game, and what I do on the week leading up to it, DIRECTLY INFLUENCES my favorite team. Naturally, this tremendous responsibility stresses me out every time I watch sports. This is most true for football season, when I expect the Indianapolis Colts to win every game.

At the beginning of each season, I have to find out what superstitions work. This last season, I found the Colts only won if I wore my Peyton Manning jersey, a certain pair of pants, black socks, shaved right after the game the week before, alternated between two shampoos each night the week leading up to the game, and ate a meal at halftime. Some years I'm allowed to wear a hat, but last year, hats did not work. How else can you explain the tremendous 12-4 record for the Colts after starting 3-4? IT WAS ME ALL ALONG.

My superstitions do not just affect the Colts. I have discovered a strange trend: When I attend a major sports event, regardless of the odds, the home team will always lose.

FOR EXAMPLE: I attended a college football game in Los Angeles. The USC Trojans versus the lowly Stanford. . . Somethings (they are so bad at football, they have no mascot). The Trojans had won 34 straight games at home, and were 47-point favorites against Stanford. Now, at this time, I was actually aware of my inauspicious trend with home teams, but I figured it was USC vs. Stanford. No problem.

Yeeeah. They lost. For the first time in about five years, they lost at home. I didn't know what to think. All I could say is, "It's all my fault. It's all my fault. GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE SOMEONE REALIZES IT WAS MY FAULT!" I escaped from the L.A. Coliseum without being jumped by angry fans. I then vowed to never go to a home game of my favorite teams EVER.

I've come to realize it's just sports that I'm superstitious about. I don't know why. I try to tell myself there's no way I can affect the outcome of the game. To test this, on one Sunday last year, when the Colts were playing, I didn't wear the "lucky pants." In fact, they were dirty. When the Colts were losing in the fourth quarter, I could no longer just sit and watch. I HAD TO TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS. I ran upstairs and unearthed the lucky pants out of hamper and put them on. They stank, but the Colts came back and won. YOU'RE WELCOME.

I believe superstitions give us some sense of control over uncontrollable situations, so that we may feel like we're trying to make a difference. We don't want a negative outcome, because then we'd know we could have done something to change it. Or you'd rather not push your luck, and stay away from the black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, or cracks of back-breaking variety. I still carry around a hotel key-card from a Four Points in Williamsburg, Virginia just because I think it's special. I'M NOT CRAZY, I PROMISE.

I'm curious about your superstitions. I'm sure when it comes to school or air travel or something else, people have something they do "just in case." Post your superstitions in comments! Also, if you have a horror story from a child's sporting event or anything where parents or coaches yell at children, feel free to share!

Also, the "Where's Richard?" challenge STILL NEEDS A WINNER. Will you be the one to step up and find my friend Richard in the flashback scene at the beginning of Anger Management? Check the blog for details.

The winner will get their blog featured on the main page of Maureen's Ning for all to see for a WHOLE DAY. But hurry, this offer won't last forever. GET TO IT!

MINI CHALLENGE: Say "rural Wales" three times fast.

See you tomorrow.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER

2009-04-03T09:47:00.010-04:00

As a youth, I watched all sorts of child-friendly programming: Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow, Reading Rambo, Blue's Clues, The Busy World of Richard Scarry, and The Sopranos. In all of these shows, one thing was always made crystal clear to our developing brains: KNOWLEDGE IS POWER.

Reading Rambo

So to help the spread of knowledge, last night I wanted people to ask me questions, hoping that I would be able to provide an answer that would ENLIGHTEN and therefore make you MORE POWERFUL. I found out pretty early that it's difficult to get your attention. I tried to reassure via Twitter that I am fully QUALIFIED to answer questions of any nature. Soon after, question one tweeted itself onto my monitor:

Why are you qualified to answer questions? And how can I become qualified to do so?

I am qualified in the sense that I have a somewhat functional brain capable of solving semi-complex problems. If you can do the same, you are already qualified, if not MORE SO THAN I. Knowledge! Power!

In the search of more knowledge-hungry people, I jumped over to Maureen's social networking site at the Ning and engaged in the friendly act of "chatting" with some of its members. When I mentioned I was working on the MASTER BEDA LIST OF DOOM, the queries came all too quickly.

Are you the one organizing all this?

Yes.

What's the current BEDA Blog count?

283. Help it grow by emailing a link to your BEDA blog to blogeverydayapril@yahoo.com

How did you manage to get this job? And why?

I managed by volunteering, pitching the idea to Maureen on Twitter. She said, "Sure, whatever, weirdo." That was the happiest moment of my life.

As for why. . . I don't know. I didn't have a reason. I just had an idea that I didn't beat to death with my thoughts of why it may not work.

What will happen to the Ning once April has passed, BEDIM? (Blog every day in May)

God, I hope not.

I believe Maureen created the Ning to use for her new blog and so that people may be more interactive with it. So it's going to stick around once BEDA is over.

Now that all the logistical questions were dealt with, the friendly Ninglings opened up to more general questions, which were:

What is your favorite ice cream and why?

Right now my favorite ice cream is cake batter. Specifically Blue Bell's version of the flavor. I am convinced that the only reason I want it so badly is because the one way to get it would be to drive 45 miles to Warm Springs, Georgia (you know, where FDR died and stuff) to get it. I am serious when I say it's THE ONLY WAY. If you can get your hands on it easier than that, SEND IT TO ME!

Would you ever voluntarily dye your hair pink?

Voluntarily? No. I would have to be forced to by law or lose a bet. But I'll wager that if I fail to blog every day this month, I will dye my hair pink. Deal? Deal.

Do you cook? If so, what is your favorite thing to cook?

I'm no Gordon Ramsay, this is certain. Does it count as cooking if it's already made and you throw it in the oven? Because if it does, I can cook. If not, the only thing I have going for me is scrambled eggs, which would answer your follow up question as well.

Would you rather forget a line and recover badly or miss a cue on stage?

It's been said before that I am not an interesting person. I don't partake in theater and things of that nature. Though back in elementary school when plays were obligatory (I don't remember signing anything, but the teacher assured me it was my duty), I always picked the part of narrator, thus leaving my physical self out of the play. That's how BORING I AM.

Though hypothetically speaking, I'd rather miss a cue. I think that would be easier to cover up, for instance if I'm supposed to move when someone delivers a specific line, I could say, "Sorry, did you say something?" But I don't know, I'm no good at theater. BOTH SCENARIOS WOULD RUIN MY LIFE.

Do you like Harry Potter?

I do now, but this was not always the case. I was a young child when the first book was released, and my mother wanted to read it to me and my brother. But whenever she'd start reading, the words served as some kind of hypnosis spell and I quickly fell asleep. This happened EVERY TIME. It wasn't until later when I picked up the book myself and began reading (without falling asleep) did I start liking the story.

Why do cats chase squirrels?

My theory: it's the tails they want, not the squirrels.

What's your favorite pizza topping?

Cheese. I AM BORING.

Who's your favorite dictator?

It's a tie between Mussolini and Queen Rabodoandrianampoinimerina Ranavalona I.

What is your favorite thing about blogging?

Where else can I mention the name Rabodoandrianampoinimerina Ranavalona I? Also, I like writing and having people read and enjoy it. IT MAKES ME FEEL WARM AND FUZZY.

How would I survive without milkshakes?

YOU WOULDN'T.

How do they get the caramel into the Caramilk bars?

I did some research on this topic (Wikipedia), and found that all the Caramilk bars are produced in Cadbury's "Gladstone Chocolate Factory" in Toronto.

But you cannot simply go there and ask them about it. The secret is sacred, and those who have tried persistently to get answers have found themselves to inexplicably blackout and wake up in their homes, three months later.

So to uncover the truth, and gain POWERFUL KNOWLEDGE, there is no other way than to become a mole. Work undercover, climbing the corporate ladder from making cream eggs to Mr. Bigs, then finally to the Caramilk bars. Only there, in the presumably underground laboratory will the secret be revealed. Then you can unmask yourself and TELL THE WORLD. And we will be MORE POWERFUL because of it!

Thanks go to Kat, Reese, Danae, Danica, Heather, Fuzzynerds, and Kasey for the questions on the Ning; and Becky, Starr Stacey, and Jordiekins for their questions on Twitter. I was desperate for questions, and they were nice.

If you have any other general or personal questions for me, ask them in comments and I may do this again another time.

Also, don't forget about the "Where's Richard?" challenge! I'll tell you what the prize for winning is tomorrow when I have it all sorted out. THANKS.

See you tomorrow.

Disappointing People, Challenging Challenges

2009-04-02T09:59:00.022-04:00

Remember how yesterday I hinted there could be a special video today? I believe my exact words were:

"Tomorrow I have some things planned for you. Maybe a special video?"

Lucky for me, I left myself some wriggle room by making the prospect of a special video a question. Now I'm sure you want the answer to that question.

It is no.

The truth is, I had planned on making a special video for you, the reader, because you are very precious to me and I want to make you happy. But due to TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES and the extremely BORING NATURE of the video, I decided I'd rather keep my dignity. You understand, don't you? DIGNITY IS ALL I HAVE LEFT.

Don't fret, dear reader, for today's blog comes with TWO, THAT'S RIGHT I SAID TWO, CHALLENGES. One is very simple, and the other will take some effort. So let's get to it.

CHALLENGE #1:

PONDER THE FULLNESS OF YOUR LIFE

AS QUESTIONED BY A BOX OF CEREAL

Let it be known right here and now that I love cereal. I love anything that gives me free toys that have a life span equal to my attention span. One day, I was eating some Reese's Puffs, and pondering the conundrum: "Do the puffs belong to Reese?" when I noticed there was a survey on the back of the box. "18 THINGS TO DO BEFORE TURNING 18" it read.

"This is fantastic!" I said aloud to no one in particular. "I've been 18 for about six months, so I'm curious as to whether or not I've completed these 18 things." The box just sat there, ignoring me.

Once I began reading the checklist, I found its contents ranging from incredibly mundane to impossibly difficult, like the kind of things no person has ever done in their LIFE, let alone first 18 years. But I filled it out nonetheless, and figured I might as well explain myself.

I CHALLENGE YOU TO DO THE SAME. You can either just do it checklist style, or elaborate needlessly like I am about to. I'll be grateful either way.

So here now I present to you the "18 Things to do Before Turning 18" survey, by Reese's Puffs:

1. Ride the world's biggest roller coaster.
Just so you know, the world's biggest roller coaster is the "Kingda Ka," a Six Flags attraction in New Jersey. Despite it's terrible name, the Kingda Ka boasts a 456 foot climb and a 418 foot drop, and accelerates 0 to 128 mph in 3.5 seconds.

I don't know about you, but I–and this may seem a bit selfish on my part–prefer living as opposed to being dead. So it should be clear that a) I don't like roller coasters AT ALL, and b) I have not been on the world's biggest roller coaster. Moving on.

2. Bungee jump!
Why the heck do the people at Reese's want me to kill myself? NO. NEXT.

3. Score the winning goal/basket
I was never much for organized sports. I always saw myself as someone who was on the bubble, where I was too crappy to be on a team, but too good to play with my friends. So naturally, I always played with my friends, and never needed to score to the winning goal or basket, because I WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN THEY WERE.

4. Win an award, trophy, or prize.
CHECK. Oh the irony.

5. Learn an instrument.
I can play "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the piano beautifully. Though it's the only song I can play, so we'll HALF-CHECK this.

6. Go back stage at a gig.

Isn't there an age cap for going backstage? Don't you have to be, oh I don't know. . . 18?! This one is labeled IMPOSSIBLE. Next.

7. Meet your idol.

March 25, 2005, Amoeba Records in Downtown Los Angeles: I met John Linnell and John Flansburgh. It was a happy day. CHECK.

I also ran into Vince Vaughn while I was there, who isn't my idol, but was still funny back in 2005. So that was nice.

8. Play a part in your favorite TV show.
I've never been on a TV show before. I did go to a taping of the Ellen DeGeneres Show one time, but that is neither my favorite TV show nor fun. But my best good friend RICHARD RIOS was, at one time, a "Professional Extra" and appeared in various movies and shows. More on this in Challenge #2.

9. Meet someone with your own name.
I don't know if it means meet someone with my WHOLE name, which the odds are astronomical unless I have a son and name him Jordan Christopher Cwierz. UNLIKELY.

I will give the box of cereal the benefit of the doubt and assume it means just first names, in which case, yes. I know plenty of Jordans. CHECK.

10. Make a discovery.
Here, it means "Make an actual discovery. Not like those cheesy emotional ones where you discover a new hobby or something new about yourself. We want you to make a legitimate scientific discovery, and then it must be named after you."

Please forgive me, demanding box of cereal, for I have not yet made a groundbreaking discovery like the Jarvik artificial heart or the Dyson Ball.

11. Get away with the perfect practical joke.
I'm not sure what the perfect practical joke is, but I think a good one is "Act like there's no sound on when a famous author is reading the first chapter of her book on BlogTV." CLASSIC. And CHECK.

12. Own a pointless collection.
Oh Pokemon cards. . . Even when you were popular you were still pointless. CHECK.

Note the Rachel Maddow haircut.

13. Invent a word that makes it into the dictionary.

The alternate definition of "trumans," which is a human-tree hybrid, has not yet been added to the dictionary. Read my other blog for more information on trumans.

14. Conquer your biggest fear.

This would require me to do #1 and #2. AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN.

15. Raise money for charity.

KIVA.org! CHECK!

16. Pass your driving the first time.

CHECK. Take my word for it, I'm an excellent driver. Oh hold on. . .

. . .

Okay. I didn't want that cop to see I was multi-tasking.

17. Complete a road trip coast to coast.
California to Georgia. THREE TIMES. CHECK.

18. Reach 18 years of age.
CHECK.

So that's nine and one-half for me. I don't think Reese's Puffs knows teens all to well these days (I mean, have you seen their commercials?), otherwise there have been a "Reach Level 60 in WoW in one week" achievement. But like I said, feel free to fill this out on your own, even if you aren't 18 yet, or even if you're 40, I bet there's stuff on here you haven't done. Let's move on to Challenge 2.

CHALLENGE #2: WHERE'S RICHARD?

As I mentioned before, my best friend Richard Rios used to be a "Professional Extra," though I'm pretty sure he made that title up. He has appeared in episodes of "Six Feet Under," as well as movies like Daredevil, Anger Management, and others.

Today, I'm challenging you to locate my pal Richard in the movie ANGER MANAGEMENT, starring Adam Sandler, and that creepy old guy. Like I said, this one requires a little more effort. But don't worry, here are some hints to help you out:

1. He appears in the beginning of the film, where Adam Sandler's character is a young boy.

2. This is a picture of him taken in 2007:

3. In the movie, his hair isn't all long and girly like it is in the picture. ALSO, he is YOUNGER, like... 11 or 12. I forget which.

HOW TO SUBMIT AN ANSWER:
1. First off, I want pictures, people! Take a picture of TV screen if you have no other recourse.

2. Put a RED CIRCLE around what you think is Richard's HEAD.

3. Put a link to the picture in comments.

The winner will get SOMETHING. I have to think/talk about it before I can be sure. BUT REST ASSURED IT WILL BE WORTH IT. Thanks for participating.

See you tomorrow.

April 1st: Let's Get Started

2009-04-01T09:03:00.010-04:00

It's going to be an interesting April. Which is good for me, because historically, my Aprils have been dull. But this one feels different, like it's going to be special. I DON'T KNOW, MAYBE IT'S JUST ME.

Let me say before I continue that even though I love April Fool's Day, I don't have any pranks or jokes planned for anyone, anywhere. So there's no need to be wary about this particular blog post. By the way, your shoe's untied.

I don't believe I need to explain what's going to happen here. If you're reading this, chances are you get the gist of this little project. All I'm gonna do is blog every day in April. Hopefully most of them are interesting, but since there's going to be THIRTY of them, I can't promise each blog will be as awesome as a magical duel between David Blaine and Criss Angel (which I'm sure would consist of them trying to levitate into space and whichever dies first due to, you know, the lack of oxygen, would lose).

Let me clear about one thing: I AM NOT AN INTERESTING PERSON. I don't write awesome books that everyone loves, and I'm not dating anyone famous. I don't even have a Wikipedia page (which, in my book at least, dictates how interesting you are). ALTHOUGH, my last 24 hours or so have been actually SOMEWHAT ENTHRALLING. It all started when I checked the mail and received a notice from a college I applied to. Here's a quick summary:

Hello, Jordan. GUESS WHAT? You've been ACCEPTED to Pace University! Congratulations. NOW GIVE US YOUR MONEY. KTHX.

Needless to say, this was exciting news. Pace was my primary choice of college, so believe me when I say it was huge RELIEF that I was accepted.

After that great news, I went to have my hair cut. Now, I don't mean to upset the nice lady who cut my hair, but for some reason, my new haircut makes me resemble Rachel Maddow a GREAT DEAL. It could just be ME, but then again, it could be some cruel April Fool's Day jape the Cut-Your-Hair Lady likes to play on people (which, in theory, is incorrect because it was March 31st, and she's done this to me before). Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with looking like Rachel Maddow, but I feel I reserve the right to CHOOSE when I want a haircut comparable to her's. I'll keep you updated as it continues to grow, as this issue is VERY IMPORTANT.

Once I returned to my home and started thinking (you know, like a headache with pictures), I came up with the idea for a BEDA Twitter feed. So naturally, I messaged Maureen and pitched the idea in less than 140 characters. This idea quickly evolved into not only the Twitter feed, but also the tracking of BEDA participants and their blogs (which I was already trying to do, to not much success). Soon after that, the inbox at blogeverydayapril@yahoo.com was overflowing with enthusiastic BEDA participants, which just goes to show: MAUREEN JOHNSON'S INFLUENCE KNOWS NO BOUNDS.

Speaking of Maureen, I'd like to thank her for letting me help keep this BEDA project as organized as possible. She didn't have to accept my idea for the Twitter feed, but she did, because she's a great person who really loves and connects with her fans. So thanks, Maureen, for being awesome.

Now, before all these events took place, I didn't have anything interesting planned for this blog. And barring another miracle day like yesterday, I'll have to find topics that everyone will find, at the very least, readable. So looking at the calendar, there's several events worth talking about all month long. But what I found intriguing was the fact that most of these events ARE SPORTS.

I know not everyone enjoys sports, but I do. Baseball starts in April, and there's also the Masters and the NFL Draft. Sometimes I will blog about sports, but I will not dedicate whole posts to them, so if you see SPORTS ALERT! you can skip over that section and get back to the parts you understand/don't hate.

Over the course of the month, I'll also be asking you, the READER, to challenge me to new things, and I will in turn do the same to you. As we move forward, you will get to know me a little better, and hopefully I will learn a little about you, thus laying the foundation of something called "friendship."

Tomorrow I have some things planned for you. Maybe a special video? Maybe a challenge? Perhaps BOTH?! You'll just have to wait and see.

See you tomorrow.

Come Back When It's Ready

2009-03-28T14:17:00.002-04:00

What are you doing? It's still March. Come back April 1st for the first installment of my Blog Every Day April. Then come back the next day to see if I'm still doing it.

ALSO, feel free to place bets on the likelihood of me failing to update after a certain amount of time. See you in April.