You know...

You know you are too busy when it takes you longer than an hour to eat a bagel.

Random Call Of The Day...

I was sitting in "study group" when I got a call from JD. I know that Mamma Jollie has a random quote of the day, and I don't like to plagerize too much, but I have to have a random quote of the day for today. To save some dignity, I will change it to a random CALL of the day.

JD: "Hey, do you have to go to the bathroom?"
JARED: "Uh, no thanks, I just got done going. Thanks for checking though."
JD: "Oh, dang."
JARED: "Why? Did you want it or something?"
JD: "Well, not pee, the other one."
[I should have been more shocked]
JARED: "Oh. Ok. Well, sorry. [To my right:] How about you Chris?"
CHRIS: "Sorry. That's what I just got done doing."
JARED: "[To JD] Any thing else?"
JD: "No, that was all I needed."
JARED: "Ok, good luck getting what you need."

The mind wonders...

Ya Gotta Fight For Your Right To Vote...

I have never voted in a presidential election. I was never old enough before the current Bush was Elected. I was old enough for the election which saw him to office, but I was on my mission, had not registered and had no clue as to how. Since he won anyway, I don't fret too much.

This time, things are different. It's a pretty dead heat as far as I can tell. I think that every vote really does count on a big election like this. I want to make sure that my voice is heard. But there's one problem; Arizona dosen't.

I am in Hawaii for the second presidential election in a row. This time, I am registered. I requested my absentee ballot in August. This was done the way I know best, meaning the internet. I was assured with a confrimation e-mail and webpage that told me my request was confirmed and I will soon recieve my ballot. I never did.

I started to get worried when I noticed that nothing was in the mail. Today I took action. I found a number to call. I called it. After getting fed up with menu options, I pushed #, then *, then # again. The system at this point thinks it's dealing with a retard and sends me to a waiting cue to talk with the actual retard that answers the phones.

Just when I cannot take the hold music any longer I get a mostly live one. I explain my situation. He has all the answers, right?

"Well, Mr. Bodine, we did send you the ballot."

"I have not recieved it."

"Yes, we sent it to your address and the post office sent it back saying you were temperarily relocated."

"Well of course I am temperarily relocated. Why would I need an absentee ballot if I wasn't!?"

"Well, the post office cannot forward any ballots. They had to send it back."

"No on told me it could not be forwarded. Send it to my address here then."

"We can't. We need you to send a written request with a signature."

"OK, I'll do that. What's the address?"

"You can't. It's too late now. The deadline was this last Friday, 3 days ago."

Why, oh why, can't this guy explain to me that I can't do something before he offers it as a solution? "So what do I do?"

I think at this point I confused him. He was dazed for a minute. Independent thought was a bit much for him. He reacted like I expected - HOLD. Ten minutes later he came back.

"Sir, you would need to come to Arizona to sign a release or vote here."

"Ok, let me explain. I am away. I need an absentee ballot because I can't be there to vote. This is why we have this system. I am three thousand miles away. I need to do this from here."

Silence.

"Tell me, why did no one notify me that my ballot had been returned?"

"Well, you were three thousand miles away."

"Cute, but I have a phone number."

"We figured since you were not at that residence, we could not reach you there."

"You didn't even try! My parents live there and would be willing to assist you. And even if no one answers, we have an answering machine. You could have at least left a message."

"I'm sorry sir, there is nothing more I can do. My manager says that you will need to be here in Arizona to vote."

"Fine! Let me talk to your manager...now!"

"Are you sure you want to? It will be a ten minute wait."

Now he's trying to discourage me from talking to his supiroir? Grrr, I want blood.

Ten minutes later I get someone alive again. This person then also has to speak with her supervisor. After going through similar dialouge and debate she comes up with a solotion. "Do you have a fax machine?"

"Not on me, but I can get one!"

"OK, just fax us a request with your date of birth and a signature with your current mailing address."

Finally! Why couldn't they have thought of this 30 prime time cell phone minutes earlier?!

I think that I may get my chance to vote, despite oposition. Nothing like making you fight for your right to vote to make you want it more. If every citizen had to go through this, they'd vote twice, just to frustrate the incompetent people at the registrars office.

I'm concearned with the state of my state. I understand that Arizona has issues with ballots left and right. It might be time to change my residency to where I am most of the time anyway.

I'm also concearned with my country. I want my right to vote. I want to use it. I may not make a big difference, but I want to make a difference where I can. This is my country, and no one will tell me that I have no say in it. I may have small control, but I have some. Don't take that from me. This year, I will cast my vote, I will be heard.

Over Now...

Good night...
Yeah, It's Over now, but I can breathe somehow
When it’s all worn out, I’d rather go without

You know it’s been on my mind
Could you stand right there
Look me straight in the eye and say
That it’s over now

We pay our debt sometime

Well it’s over now, yet I can see somehow
When it’s all gone wrong, it’s hard to be so strong

You know it’s been on my mind
Could you stand right there
Look me straight in the eye and say
That it’s over now

We pay our debt sometime
Yeah, we pay our debt sometime
We pay our debt sometime
Yeah, we pay our debt sometime

Guess it’s over now, I seem alive somehow
When it’s out of sight, just wait and do your time

You know it’s been on my mind
Could I stand right here
Look myself in the eye and say
That it’s over now

We pay our debt sometime
Yeah, we pay our debt sometime
We pay our debt sometime
Yeah, we pay our debt sometime

- Over Now by Alice In Chains

Artsy Fartsy...

On recommendation from Judge I visited this site called Exploding Dog.com. It looks like some artsy fartsy paintings that should be quickly ignored when seen in a museum as you are there for the other exhibit and only went down this corridor because you thought you'd never get your money's worth if you didn't see the whole building. On closer examination, I like it.

I know. It's not like me. Something about these drawings catch my eye. They mean something to me. They are almost like ink blot tests. The night I discovered them, I downloaded about 30 of my favorite ones and went through them with JD seeing what we saw in them. It was fun.

It turns out that the artist is a guy named Sam Brown. He asks people to submit a title and he paints the drawings from that. I like the concept. I sent him some ideas. I think he will probably just ignore mine like Strong Bad always does.

I am dorky enough to pass off one of my posts as original when all I am doing is talking about someone else's work and post their art. Here are some of my favorites:

Everyone Loves Me

Forgive And Forget

He Decided No To Go Back

I Thought You Loved Me More Than Anything, And I Thought That You Would Come Back

I Got A New Bird

I Don't Know What Happened

I Knew The Answer In The Beginning

I've Been Waiting

Looking For Happiness

When Will You Let Go?

Your Time Will Come

Well, That Didn't Work

Used To Be One

They Will Never Know Who I Really Am

I Know It's Not Really Getting Any Better

And Now What Do I Do?

Color me...

Take a color personality test.

These are my results:

• You have little interest in your financial investments. You are not driven by material wealth and prefer to see where destiny takes you.
  
• Having a lively and outgoing personality, you don't like to blend into the crowd and pity people that do. You take fashion trends to the EXTREME!
  
• You are aggressive in business, but tend to take the backseat when it comes to your personal life. You are more comfortable talking about work than relationships.
  
• You value highly what is important to you. Some people may find your possessions a little out of fashion, but you don't mind as they appeal to your taste.
  
• Business often takes priority to social occasions. You are aggressive in business, but tend to take the backseat when it comes to your personal life.
  
• You are very considerate. Friendship is the world to you, and you are friends with everyone. Be careful, as sometimes this works against you if you are too trusting.

Seems right in places.

Kudos...

I visited Judges blog today. I thought this post was most amusing.

On the subject of blogs, where did Erika's Blu Rook go?

My Sundays...

For those of you who are obsessed with me and are upset that my schedule does not have Sundays on it, allow me to tell you about my Sundays of late.

First off, I have made mention to, and will not cease to mope about the fact that church begins at 8:00am. I have to wake up no later than 7:00am to shower and get ready in time. Most Saturdays I am out late - hey, it's my weekend. Other Saturdays, like this last one, I am working until midnight. This makes a 7am wakeup time difficult. I usually hit snooze as an instinctive reaction without even opening my eyes, or (I think) losing my place in my current dream. When it hits 7:30 I realize that I now have no time left for proper preparation. I throw on the best smelling shirt/pants combo I can find and an aloha tie to match. Then I run out realizing I have not combed my hair yet. I go back. Then I lock my door only to realize that I left my comb in my hand, not my room. I take my keys back out unlock the door and put the comb back. As I am about to close the door, I realize that I set my keys down on my bed in the ordeal of returning the comb. Once I have my keys I decide to pat myself down to make sure I have it all. This is when I realize that I have a beard that Paul Bunyan would be proud of and Davey Crocket envious of.

I decide to leave it.

When I get to church it is about :30 seconds or less before the Bishop starts welcoming the ward. Since most of the ward has similar experiences with the morning routine, I am still one of the first there. I get asked to do something, usually bless or pass the sacrament as no one else is there. This last week I said the opening prayer.

Once our nap is over...er...the closing hymn is starting the congregation as a whole begins to make the checks. The girls put the earrings back in that they took out to rest their heads on the men next to them. The men rub the red mark on the forehead from the preceding bench. Some people put their shoes back on. Others put their lesson manuals away thinking that if they don't have their lesson plan ready enough by now, they never will.

When I get up, I start to notice the people around me. The girls are cold, and wear some sort of sweater or shawl that doesn’t match that well. They still look nice. The men, on the other hand, look bad. They look worse than I do. Most people say you can tell a single RM by the way they look. Here, you can tell an off campus from an on campus student. One distinguishing feature is nationality. Most of the polys are on campus, since they are on scholarship and have to live on campus. Same goes with most of the Asians. But that's not the real distinguisher. It's the way they dress and look.

I don't know what it is, but all of those off campus guys look like they woke up on the wrong side of the dumpster, found an unemployed Enron employee's old work clothes, throw it on with the cheapest D.I. tie available and some old slippahs. I thought I looked bad. They make me look like Pierce Bronson at a Hollywood premiere. I just want to keep my comb in my hand next time I leave with it by accident so I can hand it to these slobs and hope they get a clue.

In priesthood, I sat there in awe as I realized that I could actually pick out each and every off campus person accurately. There was one Asian that I was unsure of for a second, but then I saw that he had a lot of hair for an IWES (foreign scholarship) student and it wasn't combed at all. Must be off campus. Their hair is always too long, over the ears and into the eyes. They don't comb it, but they might throw gel in it without combing to make it look more messy. Now there's a good idea for fashion.

Another good indicator is their feet. They never wear socks. Ever. Even if they are wearing shoes, it's without socks. Maybe they should write home and ask for some. I understand that some people wear slippahs to church. The polys who wear lava lavas for example. But they are clean cut, wear nice dress lavas and sometimes a neat tapa cloth around. They look dressed up. It's different. These guys are not lazy, the bum ha'oles are.

Leaving socks and hair alone, we have the outfit in general. Almost never with white shirts. Often no tie at all. If they do, it has to be bigger than their girlfriends bikini. It usually is some shade of tacky brown with puke orange stripes. So long as it looks like you had to go grave robbing to find a tie that bad they are happy with it. To match the brown hue of the tie, they grow scruff. Don't call me a hypocrite, I know that I said I come with a shadow, but these guy looked like they haven't shaved since I saw them that way last Sunday. One guy seriously had a beard, and I know that he has no "beard card" which gives him permission to have it. He blessed the sacrament. How do these off campus guys get away with this? When I sit with these guys in Elder’s quorum, I feel less like I'm in church and more like I'm in Zoolander's "Derlelique" fashion show.

That rant aside, let me get on with my day. I am the Ward Clerk. I also am the resident computer aficionado, so I am there for all the work. We must count all of the tithes and offerings. Usually not a very huge deal. This week, we did it for the first time as I just got done setting up our computer and syncing up with Salt Lake. We had a pile of about 200 tithing envelops to do. We have 10 members in our ward according to the computer and our records. I had to enter each individual separately into the system before I could enter the amount they gave. I also had never used this software, I just had to figure it out as I went. I'm glad I have a proficiency for that kind of stuff.

After a few hours, we had it all in the system. Then we had to total it up. We had to spend the next hour and a half fixing our totals for those who paid in checks. We did that only to find that our cash count was off as well. I don't know how many times we went through the envelopes. Five hours from the time we started, it was done. I missed breakfast and lunch. I got home at 4 and slept.

I always take a nap. This is prime time for people to call me. Jake, for example, has a radar in his head. It rings, "Jared is sleeping! Call him NOW!" He does.

I then usually go to dinner if I didn't eat too much at lunch. I come home and wait for Fox's Sunday night lineup. They have not started the season yet, so they play an old movie or something I don't care about. I have to wait till after Halloween for the Simpson’s Season Premiere which is a Halloween episode. This year Halloween is on a Sunday and The Simpsons is waiting till the next week to show the episode. Someone at Fox needs to be fired.

Then I kick around on the computer until I am tired enough to go to bed. If my hair is starting to look like an off campus kids, I cut it myself on Sunday as well, usually once Arrested Development is over.

Before I go to bed I regret knowing that I didn't do my homework and dread waking up for work/school the next day.

I guess you can understand why I chose not to put all this on my schedule.

Oh Brother...

Lisa Simpson: "You mean Clara is your sister, not your girlfriend?"
Young Cowboy: "Heck no! They made that illegal in this state two years ago."
- Simpsons "Dude, Where's My Ranch?" (2003)

So I think it's time to let the cat out of the bag. I have been holding back from you, my loyal readers. Despite the hints, rumors, allegations and things left unsaid, I do have a girlfriend...sort of.

For some time now, I have been spending much time with Anna. In public she is mostly quiet and does not seem to like being too close to me. For the longest time, she wouldn't even touch me in public. More and more we have been holding hands walking around campus and she won't always stop me from having my arm around her when her friends are around.

The only reason why I have not been posting anything going on with her this last month is that she likes to keep the private life private. Therefore, she won't let me talk much about her here. Today I throw caution to the wind.

Not everyone knows that we are dating still. In a way, I help keep it a mystery, partly because she likes it that way, but also because it can be kinda fun keeping it a secret. I love to live life publicly. I seem to wear my emotions and thought on my sleeve. This worries Anna, as she does not.

One device she came up with is using me as a sergeant "Brother". A few weeks before we were officially unofficial she decided I would fit better as her brother than anything else. We let it go that way for a while, but I was not totally satisfied with just that. Once in a while I would flirt a bit much or get just a bit fresh. She would look at me indignantly and say, "What kind of brother is that, huh?"

I always have something to say. "Well, you know, some brothers and sisters are kind of wierd like that..."

She doesn't like that answer.

Now we are doing more "couply" things but she still will tell others that I am only her brother. I decided that I can live with that. So, yes, I am her brother only. I've got a new outlook on it that makes both her and I happy:

"Brother with Benefits".

Now with REAL chicken...meat...

The chicken crossed the road to get away from the McDonald's Employee...he didn't make it.

Head on down to McDonald’s today!

You might remember that they changed the slogan to read, "Now with white chicken meat" instead of "Real" chicken meat. At least the contents didn't change. You can't get more authentic than that. I think those darn Chick-Fil-A Cows have gotten to us all! We are defiantly eating more chicken. If not by volume by percent of chicken used.

My dad argues that McDonald’s is junk anyway. He likes Burger King. While my sister was working at Burger King she had a nice old lady come to the counter and show my sister where she found a half cockroach (or lugey, I can't remember which) in her burger. The other half was likely in her stomach. There is no way that was an accident. The cook must have done that for fun. What was the response of the manager that was notified? He refunded the money and offered more free food.

Why would they offer more free food from the same source? If I just barely survived a plane wreck, would I ask for another flight right away? I don't think the Brazilian Soccer team really pushed for that. Or how about giving a gun shot victim unlimited bullets at Wal-Mart?

I think this weekend I'll go sky diving with a defective shoot. Then I will get unlimited free jumps. Then again, that might not be all that thrilling. I would probably get more of an adrenalin rush eating lunch at McDonald’s...

Special thanks to Carerra for the pic.

Secret Agent Man...

Yesterday we finally set up our computer for the Ward Clerks. Being the one that is computer literate, I did it. After we got it up and running, we noticed some problems. First, we didn't have a USB cable to connect the printer to the computer. Nowadays, they all use USB. I'll have to go buy it and get reimbursed.

Another problem is that the CD with the programs that they promised us was not there either. We had Windows XP on it, but no church software. I made a myriad of calls and finally ended up with a guy who said he'd just burn me a copy of the software. I told him I would need it soon, as we have been a ward for two months and still have not reported a single dime of tithing, meaning that we have a stack of tithing envelopes from the floor to the ceiling. He told me to come by his office Monday morning. It just so happened to be right next to the housing office. I work in the Hale 4 office every mon, wed, fri and check the mail anyway. It was a perfect match. I told him I'd be by around 9:30am.

As I was mopping the floor getting ready to go check housing mail and fulfill my calling, Mom Terese comes to me and says, "I'm going to the front office."

"OK." Uh...wait...that means that she won't let me go. I need to get that CD, and while I'm out, I want to sack my breakfast or I won't eat at all. Hmm. I guess its time to become...SECRET AGENT MAN!

I looked around the corner of the hale. Her van was gone. She drove. I have to walk to the caf the tennis courts way. The road is one way, and if she has already left, she will come from the other route. Then I made it to the caf. She might be getting food then, too. She wasn't. That was easy. Now I have to check my mail in the mailroom on the way. I took the less traveled back route. She either had already checked her mail or has not gotten around to it yet. I had no mail anyway. Then I had to be real tricky. This guy's office is literally right next to the housing offices. If mom was there, I would defiantly be seen going in. Her van was parked in the front of the office. I knew of a less traveled side door. I thought I might be able to sneak in that way. As I walk by, I can see her standing 30 feet away talking it up with someone in a housing cubicle. Rats! I knew that she was parked out front. Seeing her was even better. Now I can sit and peek around occasionally to see if she had left yet. She'd walk to her van, and I'd walk right in. As I was thinking of how great it will be to tell the story of my victory, she walks out of the back door! Why would she do that?

"Jared, what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, well, I got a call from Tom Wride (full names make it sound more important) who told me that I need to get something from his office. Its for my calling in church (can't get mad at a man for magnifying his calling) and I needed to pick up this software soon. He's waiting for me (good, urgency). He told me his office is next to the housing, so I figured I'd just check the mail while I was at it (smart man, killing two birds with one stone, who wouldn't admire that?)."

"What for? I already told you that I was going to the front office!"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you were going to pick up the mail or not."

"I did. You cannot do those personal things when you are in the office. You need to do your personal things on your time! You cannot just leave the office like that." I don't see how it's that different from me leaving to check the mail anyway, same distance and time taken, but, whatever. "There is no one in that office anyway, it's empty!"

Gulp. That does me some great service. "Okay, sorry."

"You need to do your things on your time." She loves to rehash.

"You are right. I'm sorry. I'll go right back."

I check his office. There was an aide in there expecting me and CD in hand. Then for kicks I checked the hale mail. There was mail in it! She didn't even check the mail! Ugh! And she'll still think I was lying about it.

I am not so good being sneaky like I used to be. Or I just don't remember getting caught so much as a kid. Either way, I saw the errors in my ways afterward, but hindsight is 20/20, and that does little for me in the present. I think my days of SECRET AGENT MAN are over. I might as well admit my secret identity and become a civil servant. But never fear, citizens of this great world. I will still be around if you need me. Help is never too far. Call my name and I'll be there...I just can't promise on the results...

What's My Motivation...?

Peter Gibbons : "You see Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care."

Bob Porter : "Don't? Don't care?"

Peter Gibbons : "It's a problem of motivation, alright? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime, so where's the motivation? And here's another thing, I have eight different bosses right now."

Bob Porter : "Eight?"

Peter Gibbons : "Eight Bob. So that means when I make a mistake, I have eight different people coming by to tell me about it. That's my only real motivation is not to be hassled, that and the fear of losing my job. But you know, Bob, that will only make someone work just hard enough not to get fired."

- Office Space (1999)

I'm sitting in my RA office right now. What am I doing? I'm watching an episode of "Angel" on DVD and typing in this. What should I be doing? Maybe work, or even, heaven help me, my homework.

I have not done any actual homework for some time. What's more, I don't care. I will even bring my backpack in the office to work on something, like statistics. What happens? It sits there long enough to gather dust. I just can't bring myself to do it. I have no desire to do it.

I know this may not sound like a revelation for you, but for me, this is new. I have been a 4.0 student my whole college career...until last semester. This last Spring term, I got all "A"'s. My reward? A 3.7 GPA for the term. I was given "A-"'s.Ya, BYU has the wonderful pollicy of the +\- system. I had 109% in a class last year. Did I get an "A+"? No, they don't have that, only lower. How can that be fair? As a result, I don't have my 4.0 and can never bring it back up. So long for that motivation.

In these classes, I don't seem to be getting it at all. School has come somewhat easy for me. I did my work, and as I did it, I felt myself understanding it and felt good. Now I just do the monkey work and feel nothing. I take the test and feel nothing. If I study hard, I get the same grade as if I put in less effort. I don't have that 100% golden touch in my tests and quizes any more. I can't seem to break through that glass celing. Same grade for less effort, why bother?
Also, I don't seem to understand it any better either. Again, why bother?

How about work? Last night while working I got a call from the hale mom. She wanted me to walk around the Hale telling people to be quiet. I did. After about 10 minutes, I came back to the office to lock things up. As I am doing so, Mom comes around the corner in a huffy. "Jared! I thought I told you to walk around and tell people to be quiet! Why didn't you!?"

"I did. I just got back."

"No you didn't! How come they are still noisy if you did?!"

"Well, maybe they got loud again after I left?"

"No, you didn't go out! I just got back and had to tell them myself to keep it down! All you did is just sit in your office!"

"Mom, I'm telling you I did it!"

Then she just gave up and walked away from me in disgust and as she muttered something under her breath I yelled in anger, "Are you calling me a liar!?" just as she slamed the door shut. So much for catching more flies with honey...

So, why do I do what she wants if she won't belive me about doing it anyway? I am not feeling the motivation.

The worst part about not being motivated is that I don't care about that either. How can one motivate oneself to get motivated? What's my motivation for motivation?

Long story short: I don't care...and I don't care that I don't care. And that is what I do care about.

Jeff And Susannah

Jeff And Susannah

Great pic, great couple.

I am trying out a new hosting service for my pics. This one lets you make actual posts from it and lets me customize my settings better. I have yet to figure out how to post multiple pics from it at a time, but I'm working on it.

In honor of my photo hosting glory, I would like to take this time to make an offer to you, my loyal reader. I will take requests. Let me know what three (3) pictures you would like to see the most. It could be anything from the inside of my toilet to the outside of my room. Whatever. The 3 most requested (or what I think is the best ideas) will be chosen and posted. Why do I do this you ask? I don't know. I think it makes for fun stuff, I guess.

Get creative!

[Guitierrez tries to find Freakazoid's weakness, he pulls a green rock out of his cloak]
Guitierrez : What do you think, Freakazoid, one pound of the purest Kryptonite. Are you feeling weak, Freakazoid? Oh so weak?
Freakazoid : That's Superman.
Guitierrez : [pulls out a yellow pad of paper, and holds it in front of Freakazoid's face] Does the yellow hurt your eyes, Freakazoid? Are you in great pain?
Freakazoid : That's Green Lantern.
Guitierrez : Oh, that stupid man at the store!
[throws it down, picks up a glass of water and throws it in Freakazoid's face]
Guitierrez : Are you melting Freakazoid? Melting away?
Freakazoid : Thats the Wicked Witch!
Guitierrez : Look, lets try to speed things along, why don't you just tell me your weakness?
[quick cut to Freakazoid in a cage]
Guitierrez : So, Iron bars electrified with a negative current are your weakness.
Freakazoid : [to self] Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Never tell the villain how to trap you in a cage.
Guitierrez : You probably shouldn't have helped us build it, either.
Freakazoid : I know. Dumb.

What is my weakness you ask? What can it be that would bring me down to a whimpering shell of a man in the fetal position? I never knew. I thought it was impossible.

Good guesses would be sliding down a razor blade into a pool of lemonade. Another guess is having my eyes gouged out and having lit cherry bombs put in place. Or you could guess having my feet nailed to the escalator in Ala Moana until my body is ripped underneath leaving a pile of my skin at the top, then crawling back up to throw my leather around my neck and walk out in humility only to run into anti-fur folk and be beaten by them profusely. (The last two might have been influenced by Itchy and Scratchy.)

No, my weakness is...WAXING! I cannot explain the pain! And the stupid part it, I did it to myself.

I know. Dumb.

I got this stuff called "Sugri-Wax" from Anna. JD bought some self adhesive strips from Wal-Mart. Saturday between conference sessions I heated up my wax and applied it to my stomach first. What, you may ask was running through my mind as I tore off that first strip of wax? I think my thoughts were something like this:

"AHHHH, OHHHHH, what the $%^#@$&^! are women thinking!? AHHHH EEEEEEEH When will the hurting stop?! EIEIEIEIE WOOOOOOH YA! Wow that smarts!...should I do a Brazilian wax next?"

Well, it was likely something like that. I'm not all that sure, to be honest. I didn't record too much of the event. I have my cardinal rules to enforce, such as rule 1, No taking off of the shirt. This is especially the case with posting pics on the net. So, Instead I got some low quality footage of JD waxing the same place I did, the stomach. I have yet to post the footage as JD is hesitant as I would be. Keep checking back in to see if he lets me post it.

One thing I will post is this:

This is not the hair ball from an oversized ear; this is my left overs from my waxing expirence. I think I can get some money on it from E-Bay!

Ya, this is just the hair from my stomach. After doing this much, I decided I could do no more, and shaved the rest. That area is sensitive, is hard to pull it real tight, so the skin gives and the hair is in there better than I thought. I will still do my back, but I will have someone else do it for me. I pity the person I can get to do that for me.

Lesson not learned. I will not do my stomach again, I don't think, but if the hair comes back slower and thinner, I'll keep it up on some spots. I'm not a masochist. I figure that I can make this weak thing a strong point to me.

Once I build up an immunity to this, I will be invincible!

The Debate Is Over...

Yesterday was the big Presidental Debate between our choices for the President of the United States. I did catch some of it. From what I saw, Bush did an OK job defending himself. What I hate to admit is that Kerry did a real good job too. I disagreed with him, but he was well posed and seemed to know his facts. There were times when he would respond to a Bush statement or accusation with some off topic attack. Unfortunatly, Bush seemed to be peeved with Kerry. I don't blame him, but it doesn't look well. I hate to admit it, but I have little faith in our common voters and they respond more to that than the facts of the issues and who is right, not more polished.

To furhter aide Bush (without supplying any monitary support) I will append some thoughts to the debate that might just be your deciding factors.












My understanding is that some of these pics might be slightly imbelleshed. I'm not so sure about that. Still, I provide some convincing arguments, don't I?