My Cardnial Rules...

"Give a little whistle...(whistle)...Give a little whistle...(whistle)...And always let your conscience be your guide." - Jimminy Cricket Pinochio

I feel more complete. All this time I have always had only 2 cardinal rules of dating. They were 1) Never let her see you without a shirt on and 2) Never let her see you try to dance. And certianly, never combine the two!
All of the great rules and codes of conduct have 3 or more. I have now amended the rules to a total of three valid guidlines.

1. Never let her see you without your shirt on.

2. Never let her see you try to dance.

3. Never let her hear you try to sing

I love to express myself musically, but sad expirence has shown me that I must do that vicaroulsly through others. Hence, radio career. I live off of others musical abilities. Odd sort of parasidic symbionic relationship, ain't it? (I know, i ruined a smart sounding sentence with "ain't".)
I was informed thanks to Sadie (Precious) and Erika that my singing is not quite up to par on Sunday night. I was already familiar with this fact. But something at that moment hit me that told me this is of a calliber offensive enough to make THE LIST.
So, no matter how bad I wish to break into a show stopping rendition of "Elephant Love Medly" from Moulin Rouge I must resist. I guess I could always hum or whistle along with the radio. I think I can do that mostly on key...

"The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return." - Ewan McGreggor as Johnathan in Moulin Rouge

God bless America. My home sweet home!

I live in a third world country. I know, I know, "But Jared, Hawaii is part of the U.S." Ya, I don't think so. You ask most hawaiians and they dont say they are american, they are Hawaiian, and proud of it. If you ever see a Hawaiian flag flying upside down, that means "Hawaiian Sovergnty". They want thier own kindom again. Not gonna happen. So, to reiterate, yes, I am in a different country, a third world country.

One tell-tale sign is random stray animals crawling around you living quarters. Last week, i was on my way home after a riggerous day at the computer (many actaully). As i come to my door, I see a chicken standing there, looking as scared as the full time chef for Roseanne Bar. I stop in my tracks in hopes that it will chose to go out of my house, and not further in. This almost never works. The bugger is too afraid of you. But this time was different. There was something more intimidating than me on the other side. It slowly decided that I was the lesser of 2 evils and ran closer to me and out to the bushes. What could have been so vile and terrifying that it would chose the face of death before it? A second later, I had my answer...
Filipinos. The came running past me, yelling as they did so, "Don't let it go. That's gonna be our lunch!"

The next day, I was in my room when I heard the distinct sound of a chicken struggling for its life. If i had a dime for every time i heard a living creature sturgle for life at my hands...
It might have been the same chicken, but this one was traped in our lounge, and my roommate was chasing it around. It took a few min and feathers to get it, but it finally went. That happens too easily.

Yesterday, I was in the Hale office when i saw some thing run by. A few min again i saw it go agian. After a third time i guessed it was time to investigate. Sure enough, a Mongoose was stuck in our Hale lounge. It took some tricky work and strategic door closing, but i chased it out.

Last semester, I was in the Hale lounge having family home evening. While someone was crying in a testimony I felt a drop of something in my hair. It felt like a thimble of water. I looked around, no one there would dare to that in that kind of enviroment. Who could that have been? I then decided to look up. It was infact, a gecko. It had just dispelled waste on my head, while in my suit. I tilted my head to the side and an orange round ball rolled off. I asume some sort of egg or owl pellet kind of matter. Ya, how for joy!

I could go on, but I will spare you. This was only the livestock reason why I live in third world enviroment. Maybe when i have more free time, i can go into the living condition examples...

Step One: Open mouth. Step Two: Instert Foot...

Oh, so that's why they call it the World Wide Web! I guess it's possible for people like Erika for example to read these. Not that I am suprized that she did. I wasnt all that happy to find out that she read it and was upset about it. Not that I blame her. That was stupid of me. It really made me sound like a jerk...more than I had intended.

No details, but we did go to the dance even after she read it. We patched things up and are still friends. One of her friends is still a bit tessty around me, but I guess I earned it.
I suppose time has come for me to stop mentioning people specifically. I will start right now.

So my room mate, Josiah T. Walker, has the worst smelling feet...
(I couldn't help it!)

Playing It Dence...

No, Fez, dating IS prostitution. Only, you don't always get what you paid for.
- Steven Hyde "That '70s Show" (1998)

Ever have someone hit on you, and you dont like the person so you brush it off like you just dont get it? Ya, me too. Its a fail safe. She thinks you are dence and pretty thick in the head, but no feelings are hurt. I often just take undersireable advances and play that game. The girl inevetable thinks that I am just stupid, but yet, she is all the stupider (i know...) for thinking it. Two nights ago, I came out the ultimate stupid one...

I got a call from a girl named Erika. She invited me to go to a guitar performance in the auditorium. I wanted to see it anyway, so i was there. Half way through, they broke and showed a homemade video to promote the upcomming Fall Ball. I have considered going. I have a few girls on my list that i thought about asking. I came real close to asking a girl named Angie Lambert. She is a cool gal that is always fun and she hadnt been asked yet. Just as I thought i might break down and ask, the video ends and the MC (Glen) who is a freind of mine gets on the mic, "There is a girl here who thinks that I dont want to go to the fall ball. It's just that I dont want to go to the fall ball with anyone but her....Angelina Lambert, will you go to fall ball with me?"
Well, there went my idea. But alas! She wasnt there! How funny is that!? Everyone felt sorry for him, I on the other hand was cracking up. I'm not the sensitive type.

Fifteen min later into annother student performance Erika leans over to me and says, "Actually, do you want to go?"
"Naw, not quite yet. I think that Shem is going to perform again."
"No, i meant, did you want to go to Fall Ball?"
It sounded to me more like a servey question more than anything else. "Naw, not really. I mean, it could be cool, but $50 for one date and no trasportation to Honolulu from here..."
"Well, I'll pay for myself."
Then it hit me. Ohhhh! She meant did I want to go to Fall Ball with her! Uh. Ya know. I didnt want to say this, but no. Not really anyway. Even if she does pay for herself (which i cant let happen), it's gonna cost me. And how are we going to get there? What kind of attire is it? Will I have to dance? Will there be a good night kiss? if so, does it have to be from her? All important questions.

I couldnt just back out, so I did the noble thing and told her to wait for my reply....

I made good on it. I went home and made her a cd. I DJ'd the cd, like i was on the air. I miss doing that kind of stuff. I made it all one long track, about 76 min. I spoke between each song, so she couldnt track forward and she could only shuffle from song to song, which still takes forever, incase she misses something i say important inbetween. The idea was that I asked her to the ball. She complained that no one has asked her out on a date, she always had to. I thought since i had to go now, i might as well cowboy up and turn the tables.
When I woke up, there were 9 pages taped to my window. It was a long responce. The word 'yes' was taped to the wall outside, so i had to go get it.

Being a nice guy sucks. Maybe I should have played dence longer.
"I'll pay for myself."
"Oh yeah? Who are you going with?"

Adventures in Blood Donating...

Well, I did it again. I put my life (and veins) in the hands of Hawaii's Most Mediocre. Ya, I must be nuts. I guess I feel like I have so much extra blood just going to waste that I might as well let someone else know how crappy it is to be me. So I inject myself into to them. I can see it now, some guy wakes up in the ER and suddenly finds himself attracted only to the women who don’t find him that way and vice versa. He also finds that he has gained weight, but can't lose it. The list goes on...

This was one of the times where donating blood becomes a story. Well, an adventure really. You sit down and fill out this survey. The first question is my favorite. "Are you feeling well?" Like I’m just gonna put down, "Well, I'm sexually frustrated, I hate my 'bed' and as a result of it, my neck is totally out of whack, I'm stressed out over all my classes and I don’t drink, but I'd swear I have a hangover."
I put yes.
Then comes the interview questions. My bro-in-law is a pig (meaning cop, technically, but you decide...) and he told me the kinds of questions they ask you for a job. Why should I get the same ones every 2 months when I donate? Honestly! They ask the kind of questions that would make Madonna blush.
"Have you ever had sex..."
"I should be so lucky."
"...with a man for money?"
"Oh...I thought you...er...(sigh) same answer..."

After 21 questions that Ellen Degenerous wouldn't admit to, came the prep. I lay down on the table and notice after 5 min that they still haven’t found a vein. I guess my girlfriend was wrong...I'm not that vein after all. This petite little Hawaiian girl (who obviously couldn’t get a job at a real medical facility) finally made her choice in a spot higher and to the side of where the needles usually go. The skin was thicker there. It took some hard pushing to get it in. As I lie there, I hear another one of the Apollo College drop-outs say, "Eww...gross....blood."

What? Eww...gross...blood? What do you expect at a BLOOD DRIVE!? My comfort level went way up, they said my tube started to fill up faster.

That was short lived, because after almost 15 min of squeezing this foam blood drop every 3-5 seconds, I still wasn’t done. So the inept assistant began to jiggle the needle. Still nothing. She found a guy who actually was some sort of MD. "Ah, yes, due to the angle and how deep the needle was put in, the opening of the needle is resting against the wall of the vein. Well just have to move it around a little."

Perfect, that was just what I needed. After the next painful minuets ended, I was glad to get up and get what I came for...all the free munchies I could down. Ya, I filled my backpack. I figured they bled me dry literally: I might as well do it fiscally to them...

Sick...

When Cameron was in Egypt land…let my people go…” Cameron from Ferris Beuler’s Day Off.

I am sick. Well, not the kind of sick that you are thinking of, I really thought she was 18. Who ever heard of a 14 yr old with a rack like that…ok…off the subject? I am sick with some sort of fun head cold. Why the heck do they have head colds? What’s that all about? This isn’t going to turn into some cliché routine about why it should be called a hot since you’re not cold when you have one.

It all starts the same. You are sitting in your chair happy and at peace. Suddenly, you notice that you have a slight tingle in the back of your throat. You think, “Oh, man, I’m getting sick aren’t I?” By this time you know there is nothing you can do. You drink a ton of orange juice and down a bottle of vitamin c, but by the time you wake up the next morning, you are an inch from wishing yourself dead. One of the fun particulars of this brand of head cold is that my nose is completely and totally clogged. The amazing thing (someone call the Twilight Zone) is that even with a nose stuffed up so bad that you can’t snort a particle of air in, you leak snot like a civ. You can only feel it some of the time. Others you walk by a mirror and realize that you look like your 2yr old niece with snot hanging dangerously close to your upper lip, and by the way your are feeling, you might just stick that tongue out and take care of the job. The reason I didn’t is that the leak, unlike the breathing, goes both ways, so you know you are swallowing gallons while you sleep. I can’t survive the Gallon Challenge, but I can if it’s snot. The upshot is that I don’t have any appetite when I wake up.

Paradox the second. Due to the total blockage of my nose, I am forced to breathe through my mouth at all times. This of course makes me look like a full time “open mouth breather” and we all know how smart those guys are. When I sleep, my mouth is open and makes my throat dry as a bone (which doesn't make sense if you think of it, your bones are covered with blood and stuff, not dry). The second paradox is how is it that my throat is dry as the Sahara in drought season when I have been swallowing mucus all night? Does it float in the middle of my airway so as not to lose any precious cargo on the way down?

The part that irks me the most is the fact that this is now the second time in one month that this has happened to me. The exact same illness! When I find the guy that I gave it to and got it back from, I’m gonna…well…give it back to him again…

Now, I just lie in my bed, finding no comfortable position, swallowing my snot as I wipe my nose with my bed sheets (I gave up caring). I feel like Cameron illustrates in one of the best 80’s movies in history “Ferris Beuler’s Day Off”. As I look at the clock and realize that, yes, I have to work till midnight tonight and again at 8am tomorrow, the only thing that runs through my head is, “When Jared was in Egypt land…Let my Jared go.”