I'm Dreaming Of A Brown Christmas...

Unbeknownst to my family, I have had the tickets to go home for Christmas since before I left to Hawaii for the semester. I have always wanted to surprise my family by showing up unannounced. I even contemplated over telling my family I was coming off my mission at a different day so I could show up at the door when they least expected me, but that fell through. This was my chance.

I had my friend, Lamb, pick me up from the airport. It was about 8am, so we went to a nearby McDonald's for breakfast. While there, Lamb made a new friend.

Lamb's New Navajo Friend

This new friend of Lambs wanted to know how to get from there to North Glendale. The bus was proposed, but, Oh, what a surprise, he didn't have the money for the bus. I told him good luck. I don't know that part of the valley and I don't know if the bus goes there or anything. Lamb broke down, and did the nice Christmas thing to do and gave the guy $5.

For his troubles, Lamb got an extra bonus. The guy had Lamb take off his hat, put foreheads together and say a Navajo prayer. He blessed each item on Lamb's plate by coming dangerously close to touching them. Then most parts of Lamb's body by the same method. The close inner-thigh part was my personal favorite.

The bum thanked Lamb again and went behind a wall outside to drink with his friends, not apparently in a hurry to buy that bus ticket. Lamb wasn't happy with himself for always caving in to such ploys. "There's one born every minute..." That's true. But at lest there are nice people like Lamb that are willing part with what they have.

After that, it was time to get things ready. We drove around the back of a good half dozen stores looking for a box big enough to hold me. We finally found one at Toys-R-Us. After a stop at another store for wrapping paper and tape we took a break at a local Western-themed dirt hole called "Rawhide." While there, I called my parents to make sure they would be home. My mom told me that she was sick. I jokingly asked her if she wanted me to bring by a cup of chicken noodle soup. She laughed about it and expressed remorse for not being able to afford bringing me home for Christmas. I told her not to worry.

Lamb and I drove to my house, wrapped the box, cut out the bottom, and rang the door bell. He hid around the corner. My dad came out and started to make an effort to move the box. I held on with a little handle I had made. He gave up and read the sign on the top. "To be opened here, now and with Jerry and Netina."

He got my mom and then proceeded to open the box. Just as he was starting to tear the paper I jumped out of the box and yelled, "Merry Christmas!" I think I just about gave my dad another heart attack. It was fun.

I spent the three following days working at WestStar copying the old content of Kim Komando's Web Site to her new one to be published in about a month or so. It's pretty neat to say that I have a hand in the going-ons of such a nationally reputable radio show host and website.

Then on Christmas Eve I rewrapped the box for when my sister, Wendy, and her kids came over. I jumped out on them as they came to open the box. Then I rewrapped it for Ladawn and her kin. Again I jumped out. I heard that Ladawn almost hit the ceiling I scared her so bad. It was fun.

To secure my ability to always remember the event, I recorded each time I jumped out. I have not had a chance to post it to the net yet. I have limited band width here, but will do so once I return to Hawaii and let you know of it then.

You know, many people think I am crazy to give up my tropical paradise in Hawaii for the brownest of brown places: Arizona.


I admit that I feel done with Arizona. Unless I have a compelling reason, I would like to live just about anywhere but Arizona for the rest of my life. Yet I still come back. It's family. The cost, the trouble, the brown, it's all worth it for the chance to be with those you love.


And, yes, the confusion and mess they create is worth it too.

After His Lucky Grades...

My grades for the Fall 2005 term have come in. I busted my butt to get good grades this last semester. I think I put more time and money into my grades this semester than any previous. I also think that I have killed more than my fair share of trees as well (thank you, English 315).

One class that has, and continues, to complicate the grade issues is IS307, AKA Systems Analysis and Design. One day the teacher took about 40+ minutes to explain his grading rubric. He wrote on the board a bunch of symbols. There was a check, a "+", a "-" and a 0. Apparently, we are to decipher a check+, a regular check, a check- , and a 0 into some coherent grading system. He explained that a check+ was basically an "A". A regular check was a "B". A check- was a "C". and 0 meant "F". So, I bet you are thinking the same thing I was. "Uh, excuse me for being a cynic, but, if each of those is simply a different way of meaning the standard grading system, why not just use that standard grading system?"

He didn't like my answer. He explained that each symbol can only be interpreted as such grade equivalents and are not those. He then went on explaining how they were tallied and such. By this time my eyes and the 36 eyes of the other 18 students were glazed over. Next thing I knew I saw him in green shorts. Then a green pipe hat with a large green four leaf clover sticking out of it. He was singing about our new lucky grading system. We had blue diamonds, pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, green clovers, purple horseshoes, pots of gold, rainbows and red balloons; each tallied up with his rainbow magic to give us our lucky grades. "Aw, yer always after me lucky grades..."

Including his class, my semester's grades are as follows:

ICS 262	CULTR COMM ASIA	A-
COMM 211	MEDIA WRITING	A
COMM 280	COMM CULTR & GENDER	A
IS 307	SYS ANALYSIS DESIGN	Green Clovers
ENGL 315	EXPOSITION & REPORT WRITING	A
Semester Total = 3.925

Now, if you do the math, his lucky green clovers are worth nothing. His overly confusing grading system that he couldn't even figure out made it impossible to have our grades in by the time they were due. I am pretty darn sure I got his Pot of Gold, also known as an "A", but I have no way to be sure.

I might make fun of him, but he is actually a very nice guy. I enjoy his company as a person. However, if you ever get this same teacher, I recommend you bring along a lucky rabbit's foot to rub during his lectures.

Bathroom Munchies...

I was in the movie theater the other day when I did something that most straight men fear to do in such a locale; I looked around.

It was a typical bathroom as far as guy's rooms go. This was one of those bathrooms that mercifully does have separators between the urinals. Without it one feels like a cow at a trough, except you leave water, you don't take it.

What seemed odd to me was what I noticed on the wall right as you enter. It was dispenser. I have seen these before. Any truck stop in America has them. But when I looked closer this was not a regular dispenser. It wasn't riddled with condoms, sex toys and other such family fun. No, this had something far worse...candy!

A Condy Dispenser

What's this? We have candy/condom dispensers now? Yikes! I know that the first thing I do when I walk into a public restroom is think about eating in there. I think it would be great if we had hot dog venders, too--like the ones at ball games. Some guy on the end could order a dog with everything and we could hand it down from the first urinal to the last. Some peckish lad in toilet three could have it tossed over the door or we could hand it under the walls to him, one by one. The guy that starts that business would be able to put his kids through college.

I feel sorry for the guy who used the machine and expected a condom when he selected "Sour Ropes." But not as much as I feel sorry for the kid that expected liquorish when he selected "Black Rod."

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Trivia...

• "Xmas" is considered by some to be a disrespectful abbreviation. But the Old English word for Christmas begins with X. The Greek word for "Christ," from which the English is derived, begins with the Greek letter chi, or X. So, X is an appropriate abbreviation for Christ.
  
  
• Christmas comes from Old English, "Cristes maesse" or "Mass of Christ."
  
  
• A traditional Christmas dinner in early England was the head of a pig prepared with mustard.
  
  
• The holiday classic, "It's A Wonderful Life," was originally a box office flop.
  
  
• The real Santa Claus was born in 280 A.D. as Nicholas. He commonly wore a red and white Bishop's robe.
  
  
• The first electric Christmas tree lights were telephone switchboard lights.
  
  
• About 400,000 people get sick each year from consuming tainted Christmas leftovers.
  
  
• In 1907, Oklahoma became the last U.S. state to make Christmas a legal holiday.
  
  
• Christmas trees are edible. Many parts of pines, spruces and firs can be eaten.
  
  
• Boris Karloff was the voice of the Grinch in the animated classic, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
  
  
• During the Christmas shopping season, Visa cards alone are used an average of 5,340 times every minute in the US
  
  
• According to a recent survey, seven out of 10 dogs in Great Britain get Christmas gifts from their owners.

Merry X-Mas!!!

The Gift Horse Had A Dirty Mouth...

This morning one of my housemates woke me up to inform me that my landlady had a turkey dinner prepared for all of the guys in the house. It was barely 9am, how was that dinner?

I went downstairs in a daze to find what I expected: a pot of rice and dried up turkey and stale potatoes in tupperware. On the surface it appeared to be a very generous offering. Upon further inspection and mastication I came to the realization that our landlady had simply had too much leftover Thanksgiving food and didn't want to throw it away. We were being fed handfuls of 3 week old meat and starch masked with warm gravy and rice. Sadly, we devoured it up like it was to be our last meal. If the rumors of bacteria in old leftovers are true, then it might just be...

Thanks?

Ridiculous Rubric...

I made a post about a month a go that spoke of a test I took in 28 minutes where others spent 2 hours. I finally got my results.

Needless to say, I am not happy.

The reason I am not happy is not just due to my poor grade, although that is part of it. What makes me mad is that most of my answers were totally correct, but I still did not get full credit for them. Why is that, you may ask? Because the teacher had a surprise grading rubric that she informed us of AFTER we had already taken the test!

The way she graded our tests was as follows: She reads the question. Then reads our answer and gives one point for every thing mentioned in the answer that can be justified. If the person put down 10 things that could be justified, they got 10 points. If another person, such as I, were to put one or two things down (that were totally correct and appropriate responses), then he only got 1 or 2 points. Therefore, I got somewhere in the 60% rage.

After taking a class for a few months that emphasizes brevity and conciseness, I would have expected being rewarded for showing such skills. But nay, my teacher in her infinite wisdom decided to punish the skills she was endeavoring to teach.

I spoke with her about the situation and she laughed, "Well, you only spent 28 minutes on the test."

"Yes, but that is not the issue. The issue is that You gave me less than full credit for a correct answer based on a rubric you determined while grading. Don't you see a problem with that?"

She didn't.

Arrrg!!!

Toilet Talk...

I mentioned in my last post about my birthday and the signs that were posted around campus. I failed to mention the reaction I got from them. All week, well after my birthday, I have been wished a happy birthday by all sorts of people. Strangely, however, I have not been getting the hugs that the signs suggest should be given. One person came close.

On the night of my birthday I took a much needed restroom break. While standing at my urnial another guy walks in casually and bellies up to the porecelean next to me. We did the quick glance at eachother as if to say, "I'm aware of your presence, now let's not make eye contact again until we forget about being next to eachother in this awkward position."

A few seconds later he says to me (while looking at the wall straight ahead), "So...uh...happy birthday."

"Thanks. You must have seen the posters."

"Yup. (pause) You don't mind that I'm not going to give you that hug right now, do you?"

I was fine with that...

Menace...

"As to the single men, I need merely to repeat the admonition attributed to Brigham Young, 'Every man not married and over twenty-five is a menace to the community.' I asked Dr. Lyman Tyler yesterday if he would document this for me, but he said he had been trying to document it for years; he had given up, so you will have to accept it either on faith, or as apocryphal."
- (President Ernest L. Wilkinson: Commencement Exercises May 31, 1963 BYU Speeches of the Year, p.1)

As of today, I am now concidered to be a menace.

I wore this shirt for the first time today. I though it would be ironic to wear it on this day. I was originally planning on saving it for the day that it would actually be true...I gave up on that.

This is the sign that was posted all over campus by my friend Erika. I'm not turning 25, but the sentiment was nice.

The truth is, I was menace since at least 23...

Not Large, But In Charge...

The following post is somewhat long. It's a five page paper that I turned in for my gender studies class to be exact. I thought it was pretty darn good for less than a day's effort. If you don't feel like reading it, feel free to scroll on down, I won't be offended.

When one thinks of media and the gender roles portrayed, one often thinks of skinny white females and buff tan men. The women should be timid, shy, fragile and vulnerable. The men should be in charge, austere, and borderline violent. This image still has its place in our world, but has lost its place as the norm in our changing society. When looking through various magazines I found a few that did enforce that stereotype, but I found far more that turned that image upside-down. The pop culture media of today works rather to empower the women. Power is taken from the man so that it may be given to the woman. Control is in the woman’s hands. This power is shown as control over their bodies, control in sports, control in work and even control over men.

I found many ads to use from four sources. Most of my ads came from “Entertainment Weekly Magazine”. I also used “Elle”, “Teen People” and “US Magazine”. In each of these the women generally kept the image of being tiny - taking up less physical space. In that, I found what I expected. What became a recurring theme that I was not expecting was the position of the women. These were not the typical vulnerable, compliant women. They were in charge. They were in control. The capstone of my findings is an ad by the Diesel Jean Company. It shows a woman riding on top of a man who is wearing no shirt. She has a lock of hair (with no explanation as to whose hair it is) in one hand and a sharp looking sickle in the other. The man on the bottom looks almost to be in pain. She is in an empowering position. She may not be large, but she is in charge. She is calling the shots. He is subject to her whims and desires. Clearly, this picture displays a reversal of the roles that we have become accustomed to seeing. This product is either being sold to the women that want to be in control or the men that want to be controlled. Likely, the latter is a smaller crowd.

Diesel

Control is the focus in many ads. An ad for Wendy’s Old Fashioned Hamburgers features a woman with her mouth wide open. She is not holding back, but opening her mouth and expressing herself as she wishes. The caption explains why this burger is going to be so good to her. “Ivette does the Ivette Burger, not just another off-the-rack burger.” She has control now. She can make the food the way she wants and no one can tell her otherwise. The sub caption reads, “Don’t compromise. Personalize.” Ivette is the authority, not the man that owns the company. She appears to enjoy it. This feeling of power is appealing. The ad features Ivette in control, not a man. There is no man in this ad. Although men are just as capable of eating a burger, this appears to be less targeted to the men.

Wendys

In fact, men appear less in ads that promote the empowering of women. When they are shown, the men have become the lower step on the totem pole, the dominated sex and the muted group. An ad for a purely female product, Playtex tampons, emphasizes the putting of men in their place. The image features six young adults, three male and three female, each attractive. The men are on their hands and knees. They are the bottom of a human pyramid. Two of the men have their heads down in a submissive way. The three women are crawling on top of them, showing their new status on the top. They also might not be large, but they are in charge. The caption also shows that a woman can be in control of things she once thought she could not. “Me? Let my period get in the way of my life? You’ve got to be kidding.” A woman can now be in control of things she once thought she could not.

Playtex

A modern woman can control more than her period. Ban Deodorant tells women they can “ban” anything they want. “Ban Insecurity. Ban Stereotypes. Ban Self-Doubt.” There are a dozen things banned. Each thing to ban includes a picture. The “stereotype” picture features a female boxer spreading her arms on the ropes ready for more. Another picture tells women to “Ban Peer Pressure” showing a woman standing on a scale. To make the ad more interactive they encourage women to visit a site and say what they would like to ban in their life. While Ban may be strong enough for a man, if is advertisingly balanced for a woman.

Ban

Even the transgender act of brushing ones teeth has become something the woman of today has more control of. Oral B has a new tooth brush that will allow a self confident woman to “triumph over ordinary brushing.” A woman with a perfect set of pearly whites holds up the bush triumphantly with her fist. The same assertive fist is used by a woman in an Alberto V05 hair product ad. Standing in the middle of the page in a position that screams power she points her fist at the camera, extending a finger to point at the individual. Again, the message is clear: “Now you have the Power!”

Oral B               Alberta V05

Critics might say that these ads only give women power with cosmetics or hygiene. This is not so. Even the typically male dominated arena of sports is being offered to women. Maria Sharapova, a world famous Tennis star, is featured in an ad for a Canon digital camera. She is in an almost cat-like pose with the tennis ball in hand giving the clear sign of the “eye of the tiger.” The heading reads, “Make every shot a PowerShot.” The power is in her hands. Those hands can be powerful every time. The cameras are promised to be not just good looking, but your source of power. “And just like Maria Sharapova, this combination is a force to be reckoned with.”

Canon

But being a force to reckon with is not all that the powerful woman of today is. She can do anything a man can. The jobs we expect of men are not exclusively that of a man’s any more. Mr. Goodwrench reminds us in a recent ad that “Mr. Goodwrench isn’t always a Mr.” A more traditionally “regular” woman, no excessive makeup or half-hour glass figure, is the focus. She has a sensible haircut. She is wearing work clothes. She has a rag hanging from her pocket. But she stands with her arms folded in a pose that is powerful, friendly, and comfortable at the same time. Some of her characteristics are mentioned beside her. “The Face of a GM trained technician.” “Knows GM vehicle diagnostics like the back of her hand.” “Has over one million hours of GM training under her belt.” Now the woman is not coming to the male mechanic to be taken advantage of. The fair and equitable woman is where all come to have their car fixed. She is not one of the guys, she is one of the girls. One of the girls that can do anything a man can, perhaps even better.

Mr. Goodwrench

Is it better that we have this new wave in advertising? The concept of a girl that can control her life (and even change her own tire) is not an overtly feminist concept. Enforcing the notion of being self reliant can be very beneficial for women who might be otherwise taught to be submissive. The risk however, is the tendency for America to take it to the next level.

In a day of super sizing, America seems to not always know when to say “when”. An innocent human pyramid with women as the queens of the mountain is fine. When the images change to women riding men like a horse in a hyper-sexualized manner, we have made a pendulum swing to the other direction. Currently, however, our media appears awash in both messages which share a common theme of beauty matters, whether male or female. Which beautiful gender is in control is chosen based on who is reading the magazine in which it appears and who is expected to purchase the product. More magazines today focus on female readers and therefore female products will naturally tend to appeal to the female audience. That female audience seems to be saying that they want that control once monopolized by the men. They want that power once restricted to a gerontocracy. Not only do they reject loosing their beauty in the process, they enhance it. The modern women of our advertising media take on the world intrinsically and extrinsically and look petite and elegant while doing it. They may not be large, but they are, indeed, in charge.

G.I. Jared...

Halloween is on a Monday this year. It's almost as bad as Sunday. On Monday one can't have any activities on campus. It must be Family Home Evening or quiet sedation...or both. For that reason, we all celebrated Halloween this weekend instead.

I have a thing about Halloween costumes. I don't want just every day mediocre things. I want ones that people will remember. Sometimes, money and time dictate my costume more than I would like. Some day I would love to get together a good Batman suit together, but until I can get together a good enough one, I am just going to let it wait.

This year, my budget was the major issue. For the cost of three cans of paint and some cheap toys I managed to pull off one the best costumes I have ever had.

2002:

Jerrard. A black version of me.

2003:

El Zorro

2004:

Some fat golfer dude

2005:


Just after Carrera sprayed my hair and hands. I couldn't touch a thing for at least an hour.


This one took a long time to put together.


You have to admit, the final look is very effective.


I loved posing like an actual toy.


Me with my skunk of a friend, Shem.


Even killing machines need the gospel.

It took a very long shower and hours of scrubbing to get back to mostly normal. I am thinking that I should yet again dress up for Monday since it is Halloween and all, but I just don't know if I have the energy to do it all again. I'm sure that my friend Carrera (who did a very substantial part of the work to make this costume happen) would be even less willing to spend her time on my outfit.

What do I have in store for next year? I have a great idea but I am hesitant to say it for fear of it being stolen. Also, if I tell everyone then it will not be much of a surprise when I get around to making it. On the other hand, I know that I could very well forget it if I don't put it down.

Ok, I'll tell you, but you must promise to NEVER seal my idea. I want to buy one of those outfits that dancers wear that is flesh toned; making you think the guy is naked. Then I want to cut out a circle from a shower door. The kind that is sort of see through, but you can't see anything clearly through it. I will hang it around my waste and cover up my...um...you-know-what area. It will be a guy who is naked, but centered. I have a feeling I'd get actually censored if I tried that one on this campus, so it will have to wait till after I graduate. But maybe I will not wait and do it for my graduation walk...hm. Now THAT is something that everyone will remember and no one will copy.

Topic Of Debate...

I have been flattered. Granted, it takes very little to do that. I love a good ego boost. Even meager ones make me happy.

This last one started weeks ago. It turns out content on my site has been the focus of a debate. I got an e-mail from a guy saying:

recently i came across your web site. its a pretty nice web page ^.^

although the way i DID come across it isnt such a nice storie...

someone on a forum i am on submitted one of your photos from your halloween
04 pic's
and was pretending it was them... so i was wondeirng if you would be able to
surply me with some info about the pic to help out on a small little flame
war on that forum :)

the photo is Goth Kelsey.JPG

the thing that gave away wasnt them is the fact that lcaimed the photo was
taken about a week ago and the person who posted it on there is from the
UK... looking at your profile it says your from the US?

thank you for your time

- Skrabrug

The picture in question is found here and looks like this:

Goth Kelsey

I replied and just today found the forum on which the whole thing happened.

be happy i took that picture yesterday


eheheheheheheheheheh. Your face is so funny. Thanks.


*falls out of his chair with laughter*
attention attention that photo is a perfect example of a babyhieb...


Now this is just a guess but i'm thinking the lights were out when you attempted the
makeup???


She's pretty and has potential but the make-up... No, i'll stop. I'm a man and *I* do my makeup better.


actuly not being mean (for once) i honestly dont think she is attractive in any way shape or form... the make up just makes me laugh.


That's not being mean?


He could've said "Shes so ugly, she looks like she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every f**king branch on the way down. Then she got tied to the ugly donkey who ran through the ugly forest, smacking her face on every ugly tree she passes."
See? I don't think she's ugly, but she ain't all that. I mean, she's hardly
purplenewrocks is she?


a message to sexypartygirl
o.k. this is waaaaaaaay to funny...
im haveing problems not laughing...
does the name "Jared Bodine" ring a bell at all???
how about this "Index of /jb464/boo-yeah"
o.k. now here is where it gets intresting "30-Oct-2004" the day that photo was taken you submitted... oh what do you know it wasnt taken "yesterday" of any day in this year...how about the time "10:44" which was the time that pic was uploaded onto the net for the first time???
even more funny... that pic was taken at "Laie : Hawaii : United States"
Next time you submit a bullsh*t pic of someone and then start pretending its you... make sure its not on the same forum as me...


Jared Bodine was the guy who took that photo....
in anotehr thread didnt sexypartygirl say she was form the UK... or her "freind" said
they were "both" from the UK?
Jared Bodine had the following to say:
"Thanks for the extra ping to my site!
The girl in the pic lives here in Hawaii where I do. I doubt she has ever been to Europe. The pic was taken by me at a Halloween party on Oct. 31, 2004 here in Hawaii.
That enough fodder for your fire? Good luck!"
is this where i get given a cookie now?

Sorry Kelsey, I guess the masses didn't like your goth outfit. Let's see if you can make a costume this halloween that makes even more waves!

Anyway, that was my excitement for the day. Are you not proud of me? Well, even if you aren't, please stroke my ego anyway. You know that I will just eat it up!

Ding Dong The Week Is Done...

...Which old week? The wicked week! Ding Dong, the wicked week is done!


This last series of about 10 days or so have been very intense and busy. Hence no posts. I apologize for the drought. During the past week I had some close shaves.

One night I was working until late. I had a midterm that I needed to take right after work. The testing center closes at 11pm and won't let you in past 10:30. I was supposed to get off of work at about 9. One person after another kept coming in with computer problems and such. Finally, I finished everything I was doing and started to head home with some friends. One of my friends says to the other, "So, do you want to get together and study for that midterm?"

My mind made a connection. "Midterm. Midterm...why does that sound familiar...Oh-my-gosh-I'm-supposed-
to-be-taking-my-midterm-what-do-I-do-now?"

I checked my watch. It was 10:28. I had no time to waste. I grabbed my backpack and sprinted to the testing center. I was in such a rush I didn't slow down to put my backpack on, I just kept running.

I dashed into the door and threw my wallet at the employee so he could find my ID and get me started on the test. As I threw my backpack down and grabbed a pen the guy casually looks at me, then my ID, then the clock. In a very nonchalant way he says, "Hm. Thirty seconds to spare. Not bad."

I got my test. The guy looks at me in a serious manner and informs me that the teacher expects the test to take about two hours. I had less than half an hour left until the testing center closed.

I wrote like no man has written before. I was literally writing on my test still as I was handing it in to the test proctor. Two other girls in my class were walking out with me. They were talking about how long they spent on the test. One took two hours. The other two and an half. Then they asked me. I looked at my watch. "Uh, about...twenty eight minutes..." Their jaws dropped. They must have thought I was a god.

I still don't know what my grade will be, so hold your applause.

The day before I did an entire five page research paper. Ya, just one day. Less actually. I was talking with Anna who is in the same class. She asked me how my paper was going. "What paper?" That's never a good question.

I found out about noon. The day before the paper was due. That gave me almost 24 hours exactly in which to do it. I also had work that night until midnight, so things were complicated.

On my break, I went to the library and got my resources. After work I went home and read my resources and annotated my bibliography until about 2:30am. I woke up at 8am to resume. I didn't stop to eat, shower, or pass gas. I had work to do.

I typed my last period at about noon. I had less than half an hour to get to school, print my paper and hand it in. I walked into my classroom at 12:30 sharp. It was very good paper if I do say so myself.

Long story shot (I know, too late), my hell week is mostly over and now I can start to actually enjoy the jubilee events on campus.

Oh, one more thing. One night, to keep myself from going insane, I took a break and checked out a site where I can submit a picture of me and it will tell me what I will look like in the future. I submitted a picture taken when I was 13. Here are some good results:

This is what I was supposed to look like two years ago. I guess not that far off, except the braces have long since been gone.

I don't know how I got from that top pic to this in only 20 years! Yes, this is what I should look like 30 years from my 13 year old mug. That's a scare that Jennifer Garner in 13 Going In 30 would not have been prepared for...

If I were to have had a sex change at age 13, this would be me. Not very pretty, huh? Come to think of it...I look like a mix of my three sisters...

Feminists Dogma Update...

By popular demand I am supplementing information regarding my gender studies class and offering an update.

At one time I was looking forward to this class. Now, I look forward to the teacher evaluation and on toward graduation from these ridiculous courses.

This class went from "Comm 280: Communication and Gender Studies" to "Comm 280: Battered women of the world unite".

What has had me the most frustrated lately is the tripe* our teacher fed us recently about the horrors of our all male-dominated language. To show you what ridiculous thoughts I am referring to, I will highlight some of my favorite assaying sentiments presented by the author.

First and foremost we have a real gem, the feminist dictionary:

"In 1988, Kramare and Paula Treichler compiled a feminist dictionary that offers definitions for women's words that don't appear in Webster's New International and also presents alternative feminine readings of words that do.

"Parenthood: A condition which often brings dramatic changes to new mothers - 'loss of job, income, and status; severing of networks and social contacts; and adjustments to being a "housewife." Most new fathers do not report similar social dislocations.'"

(Oh, real great. Now these feminists are going beyond marriages and are trying to break up families by stopping them from being made. In my opinion, parenthood is nothing to scoff so casually. It may be taxing on the mother, I am not discounting that, but it changes EVERYBODY's life. It's called life.)

"Feminist: 'I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat.'"

(So those are the only two choices? Feminist or doormat? Does this blog post make me a doormat for not being a feminist or feminist for not being a doormat?)

"Depression: A psychiatric label that...hides the social fact of the housewife's loneliness, low self-esteem, and work dissatisfaction."

(This sound more like something a "chauvinistic pig" would write. Is this to mean that clinical depression is not real but made up? Not only are there unfortunate depressed people out there but this author now tells them that they are also lonely and have a low self-esteem. Ya, nice way to rally up the troops, ladies.)

The same article goes on to say that the reason why men and women don't understand each other has nothing to do with misunderstandings or differences that come with being of different sexes. Rather, "when men don't have a clue about what women want, think or feel, it's because they haven't made the effort to find out."

To an extent this may be true. But I can tell you loads of stories where even my best efforts to understand the fairer sex has been thwarted for unknown reasons. I think my buddy Shem and even some female friends of mine would have to agree with me on this point: Sometimes there is no amount of effort in the world that can help men understand the complexities of womanhood.

The author goes on with the assumption of being perfectly correct and offers "further interpretation of men's ignorance."

"The crucial issue here is that if women cease to be muted, men cease to be so dominant and to some males this may seem unfair because it represents a loss of rights."

(*heavy on the sarcasm*) Wow, great! How does the author know me so well? When I call my sister every week to talk I never let her get a word in. You see, I'm afraid that if she speaks to me and I listen than I am placing my tail between my legs. It is a violation of my rights to listen to women. I also don't think that women should have the right to vote because their right to do so limits my ability to do the same. That author sure got my number!

So it is clearly the fault of men, and men alone, when they do not understand women. Is the same of the reciprocal? Are women to blame for not understanding men? Of course not!

Women are said to not have the capability to communicate in this world due to the language that men have made. The author refers to "mainstream communication as 'malestream' expression."

So what are the poor defenseless women to do? "'...in order to participate in society women must transform their own models in terms of the received male system of expression.' Like speaking in a second language, this translation process requires constant effort and usually leaves a woman wondering whether she's said it 'just right.' One woman write says men can 'tell it straight.' Women have to 'tell it slant.'"

Tell it slant!? It's the slant talk that confuses men. Why can't a woman tell it straight too? I'd rather have the honest emotions compared to this "second language" the author proposes that women speak. It sounds to me like this author is only perpetuating the existent problems further.

Rather than offer a solution to these problems it is presented as a lost hope: "'Women have had to work through the system organized by men.' For women with less skill and self-confidence...that prospect can be daunting."

Again, the poor woman with less skill and self-confidence who is not just depressed but also lonely and battered with a low self-esteem. She can't cope in this world! She has no voice!

Crying victim seems to a common drum beat upon.

I dare say that getting around with "less skill and self-confidence" would be a prospect that could be daunting for a man as well as a woman.

As fun as this article has been, I just can't wait until I get strapped into a chair, my eyes pulled open and am forced to watch Thelma and Louise 24 hours a day while the water drops into my drying peepers will be my only source of nourishment. I believe they call that class "Comm 380: Advanced Gender Communications".

To the astonishment of many, the author, although constantly quoting female feminist authors, was actually a man (at least at the time of birth).

Likely, he took Comm 380 prior to the compilation of this masterpiece.

* = E.M. Griffen "The Muted Group Theory of Cheris Kramare". A First Look At Communication Theory. New York: McGraw Hill. 1997

Popcorn On The Cob...

I have found something very cool that I just had to share with you, my faithful reader. I call it "Popcorn on the cob". I don't know where one can find it, but I happend to stumble upon some just last week for free. Check it out:

You'd be suprised at how many people can't figure out what this is.

It's not as tasty as Orville Redenbacher, but it's way cooler!

2-0...

As of right now, I am 2-0! Of the two articles I have submitted to the Ke Alaka'i I have been printed twice.

Second printed article in The Ke Alaka'i

The first article was front cover and above the fold. This time, I was demoted to page 4. However, I got half a page this time. No matter how you slice it, I find it a compliment.

Now if only I could get paid for this stuff...

Scheduled Maintenance...

"Great faith has a short shelf life."
- Henry B. Eyring from the 175th Semiannual General Conference of the LDS Church (Oct 1, 2005

It's always interesting to note how the ebb and flow of faith works. I have been in quite a rut lately. I have seen the great faith of my mission days come and go frequently as the tide.

I suppose it's time for a refresher. Jared Bodine will be under construction for the next few weeks for scheduled maintenance.

In Print...

I am in a class that instructs me on how to correctly write news articles. My teacher's main complaint is that I use my broadcast backgound to direct my writing style. Reguardless, apparently someone at the Ke Alaka'i decided my story was good enough to be in print.




You cannot read my article off of the poor quality pic, so if you are intrigued you may read on. Some of the article was changed slightly but it appears as I would have liked it below.

Darrin Jaggi winced as he screwed the gas cap back on his car at the Laie Chevron. It was not the stare of the hot Hawaiian sun that caused it. It was the sight of this total cost for a full tank.

Jaggi, a senior majoring in information systems, has noticed the price of gasoline going up steadily since he came here from Washington state three years ago. He is not the only one who has notice the price of gas skyrocketing.

Four weeks ago Hawaii’s Public Utilities Commission (PUC) embarked on the states first price cap of wholesale gasoline prices. According to the Honolulu Star Bulletin, three markets, Los Angeles, New York, and the U.S. Gulf coast are used as guidelines for the weekly price.

The first week saw a maximum price of $2.16 per gallon for regular on Oahu. Since the disaster of hurricane Katrina in the U.S. Gulf, the price cap has raised more than 60 cents per gallon.

Many have been disappointed that the cap has not brought the price of gasoline down – those that knew about it.

Ninety percent of BYU-Hawaii students who were asked about this new price cap were surprised by the news. "I have yet to notice any change…except the prices keep getting higher," exclaimed Carolyn Pack, a senior from Utah majoring in accounting.

Rose Tafua, an employee at Laie’s Chevron, said, "This is getting ridiculous. People are bringing those big red gas cans and filling up – over $100 at a time."

When asked if she noticed whether or not this behavior was due to the gas cap, she stated; "Absolutely. This cap has only raised the price. It’s hurting everybody. Even people like me that work here can’t afford gas anymore. They shouldn’t have messed with the price."

BYU-H students are deciding not to travel around the island as much due to the pinch at the pump. "I don’t go to Costco as often," admits Jaggi. "It has become a lot cheaper to shop locally rather than going to town where the prices are lower." Tafua at Chevron expressed the same thought.

The price of gasoline does not only affect the students with cars. Students like Jaggi, feel that they cannot afford to be as generous as they used to be. "I used to not have any problems taking people to town out of the goodness of my heart for free. But now I have to insist on compensation for gas."

The price for The Bus has not been raised in more than a year despite the rise in gas prices. Glen Moir, a transportation planner for the city of Honolulu, told the Ke Alaka’i that a rise in the price of gas was not in the near future. "If there is a change there would have to be hearing and the whole bit. Even if it’s likely, it won’t happen very fast. It’s not something that will happen next week."

Moir did, however, admit that it is possible in coming months.

Darren Jaggi is just one of the nearly two million people in Hawaii who eagerly await a gas bill that does not steadily climb every week. "If it keeps going up I’m just going to have to use my car less and less. I can hardly afford to pay for gas as it is."

Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie...

The cheapest and most desperate form of humanity on earth is a college student promised free stuff.

Today I was walking to my class when I was stopped by a table with signs offering free iPods. Like all other college students I stopped, inquired, filled out their survey and hoped to win.

I have class from 11 AM to 2 PM so I must eat lunch early - usually on the way to class. I had a few bagel bites on a plate next to me. The next thing I know some person places their hand over my food. Then this person says, "I'm taking this. It's mine now."

I had assumed that this was a friend of mine. I ignored it. But then the hand actually took the food. Still thinking it was a rather bold friend of mine I turned around saying, "A-hem. Can I help you?"

Just as I turned on my heels and finished my sentence I realized that it was someone I had never seen before. Staring back at me was a shocked Asian gal. She realized just then that she had been mistaken in assuming it was free food for the taking. Needless to say, she was embarrassed. She had picked up my bagel bite by firmly implanting her thumb into the cheese melted on the top. She decided placing it back was the best route. I explained to her that the last thing I wanted was to eat it. It was hers now.

It was my fault. If I had truly prized my food I should have guarded it like a mother hawk. On this campus, you must. Only moments later I heard other girls inquiring about the free pizza.

Other companies know that the students on a college campus will do anything for free stuff. Last year a bank wanted to have more of us go into their debt via credit cards. They had a table set up by the much applauded caf offering free t-shirts. The shirts were merely standard gray with the words "College" printed on it. That's it. Nothing else. Why would I want a shirt that advertises which tax bracket I fall in? I was thinking of getting a free wash rag, but I would have had to apply for a card to get it. I declined.

Over the following weeks I saw many of these cheap shirts wondering around. I think I should have a credit card company and do the same thing. The ones you get at high schools say, "High School." The ones at offices say, "White color laborer." The ones they offer at NASCAR races would likely say, "Redneck". At WNBA: "Feminists Lesbian". And of course, at radio stations: "Welfare recipient".

Lastly, the ones you get from my website/blog would read, "No life". Anybody want one?

Duped...

Is it just me, or are we a very stupid and easily beguiled society? I've often thought that people don't know it when they are. Ugly people know that they are ugly. Fat people know that they are fat (even if they do insist on wearing bikinis). But stupid people...they must be too stupid to know that they are stupid.

Think about it. Have you ever met someone who was not literally mentally retarded that didn't think they were at least of par or superior intelligence to everybody else?

One thing that makes you question the intelligence of our soceity is the existence of chain e-mail. Just today I got yet another one. This one fell into my inbox just in time to be be sorted into my recycle bin.

Dear Friends,

A pornographic movie is being shot and is intended
to show up in America soon, which shows Jesus and his disciples as
homosexuals!!! The same way as a play that has been in the theater halls for a
while.

It's called Corpus Christi" which means "The Body
of Christ". It is a revolting joke of our Lord. But we can make
difference, that's why I'm sending this e-mail to all of you. Could you, please,
add your name to this e-mail's list's end?

If you do so, together we may be able to ban this
movie form being shown in America. Apparently, some regions from Europe have
banned the movie already.

All we need is a lot of signatures!!!

Remember, Jesus said: "That who deny me before
men, I will also deny him before my Father which is in heaven."

Please, do not simply forward!!! Please, select
all text, copy this message (CTRL+C), paste (CTRL+V) in a new message and then add your name at the end of the list, plus send to all your contacts. When the
signatures get to 500 names (who is list's 500), please send them to:

Translation:

"Hey, I made up a scam that will get me hundreds of names and e-mail addresses. I will take this information and use it for sending spam and selling your information to other spammers.

I have no life and this kind of time waster fulfills my life. The more people that are duped by this make me feel like a bigger man. Please send this email on to everybody you know so I can feel like I have a claim to fame. Also, by sending this, you are proving that you are stupid thus making me smarter by comparison."

I took one look at that and decided that I didn't want to get involved. Half a day later another person in the long list of people that got that email replied to all with two links: http://www.truthorfiction.com/rumors/g/gayjesusmovie.htm and
http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/petition/gayjesus.htm

To be fair, I have had my stupid and gullible moments. My very last day at the radio station in Phoenix I fell sucker to a con man.

He called when I was very busy and didn't have time to even think about what I was doing. He claimed to be someone who I knew that worked there. I asked him why he didn't sound like himself. He said it was because he had just gotten up. It was early, I was busy, I accepted it. He asked to speak with the host during the next break but the host was on remote at a nearby Wal-Mart. So, long story short, he got the hosts cell phone number from me.

It just so happened that later I had to call the person that I thought I was talking to earlier. There was no answer so I left a message and asked him to call me back. A few minutes later the con man called me back. I assumed it was the right guy calling me about my message. This time he got yet another number from me. I was starting to get wise to him just as it was too late. Ya, I felt really stupid for falling for it. He never called back because he knew that I found him out. I felt bad, I appologized. But it was too late.

Fortunatly, it was just some guy with no life intending on playing some prank calls. It just goes to show that everybody is susceptible to fraud. Or it shows you that I am pretty stupid like everybody else. Or maybe that we all are stupid in some way...Well, I don't really know what it shows you. But it's sad that in today's society we just can't trust anybody. It's been my sad experience that once we do, we get duped.

Are we stupid or are we trusting to a fault?

Makes you miss Mayberry, dosen't it?

My Lingering Manhood...

"I have never yet seen anyone whose desire to build up his moral power was as strong as sexual desire."
- Confucius The Analects (Chapter IX, verse 17)

I can't escape the gender issues that surround me. You already know about the gender class I have. Even in my class on Asian studies Confucius takes a stab at men. I had some fun today carrying around a bag that most men wouldn't be caught dead with:


Most people only raised an eyebrow or snuck in a second look. Those who knew me well enough commented on "how masculine [I] seem today." I must be coming along well. When I was a child I refused to even drink out of a pink cup at dinner. Still I do have some very man-ish things that I hold dear and won't let go of. For example, I found a list of rules from guys for girls that I have to admit I support. Yes, it's technically plagiarized, but in this day of e-mail lists and other unwanted crap in our inboxes I feel safe enough to take credit for this.

Here are the rules from our side of the looking glass:

• Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down all the time!
  
  
• Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
  (I admit I don't care for Sunday sports, but I support the right for men to have them.)
  
  
• Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
  
  
• Crying is blackmail.
  
  
• Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
  Subtle hints do not work!
  Strong hints do not work!
  Obvious hints do not work!
  Just say it!
  (If only the girls of the world could read this...)
  
  
• "Yes" and "No" are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
  
  
• Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
  
  
• A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.
  
  
• Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
  
  
• If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.
  
  
• If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.
  (Or skinny, as the case may be...)
  
  
• You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
  
  
• Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
  
  
• Christopher Columbus did not need directions and neither do we.
  
  
• ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is and we like it that way.
  
  
• If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
  
  
• If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing" we will act like nothing's wrong.
  We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
  
  
• If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
  
  
• When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.
  
  
• Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, guns, supermodels or monster trucks.
  
  
• You have enough clothes.
  
  
• You have too many shoes.
  
  
• I am in shape. Round is a shape.

And my favorite:


• If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
  (I need to tattoo that on my forehead!)

I may not win any awards for sympathy or compassion, but I vehemently support these rights/rules of men. I may be getting "womanized" but some things have their roots too deep to be uprooted by a liberal P.C. education.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to pick up some more scrapbook supplies before Dr. Phil starts...

Ward Shopping...

As you know, I have recently found a place to live off of campus. The freedom that comes with off campus housing is nothing short of astounding. One of my new freedoms is choice of wards to attend. This is likely the only time in my life when I will have such liberty to shop for the right ward for me. We are asked to attend the ward in our boundaries and nothing else by the leaders of the church. Even if I didn’t want to obey that and I was to live on Lanai, for example, I'd have to either swim 50 miles every Sunday or just stick with my assigned branch. For the last two years in a row my ward has started at 8am. I made a solemn vow to NEVER let that happen to me again. I first went to the ward that I am technically assigned to, BYU-H 4th ward, which starts at the moderate time of 10am. It seemed nice and friendly. I recognized the faces and most importantly, the abundance of cuter girls seemed to be sitting alone.

After that I went to the local singles ward, Laie 10th. I got in the door right when it started, 2pm. You'd think that most of the locals could pry the bed off of their back by then. The opening hymn had started but it took me and my friends a second to realize it because no one was singing. Well, I take that back, the nice lady conducting was singing. The other dozen or so people in the chapel were as stone silent as gargoyles. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder and leads me to the front to help pass the sacrament. They didn't ask me if I wanted to. They didn't ask if I worthy. They didn't even ask if I was a member of the church. It's a good thing I was because it appeared as if I had no choice.

One interesting quirk of every ward is how they choreograph the ballet of sacrament distribution. This ward prefers a comedy of errors. I got the firm impression that I was not the only guest passer pulled in from the audience. While the other baker's dozen got to reflect on the meaning of the sacrament and sing praise us men in white shirts in the corner looked like the six stooges planning mischief. The Moe of the group could have just told me to serve the left side of the middle isle, but instead he drew a diagram with a number and color system which helped to thoroughly confuse all. In the end, I suppose everyone but us got the most of the sacrament.

Once it was announced that we had finished the sacrament the bishop repeated the verbatim ordnance of releasing us, "We thank the brethren for the reverent and organized manner of the passing of the sacrament." I believe he has to check the priests at the sacrament table to make sure he says it right or he has to start over.

That was also the cue for the rest of the ward to start filling in from the wings. Whether they can't bring themselves to wake up before 2pm or they don't want to admit that they can't take the sacrament I don't know. For what every reason the room was actually nearly full after all of the stragglers came shuffling in. I had to crawl over the laps of complete strangers to get back to my scriptures.

It was fast Sunday so the bishop said a few words and left the stand open...and open it was. After a few minutes a brave soul stood up. A few minutes later a fresh RM stood up. I admit that I could have offered my thoughts but I tired and it was already my second sacrament meeting of the day. I also didn't wish to crawl over laps and feet of more strangers. When a member of the bishopric had to get up there to vamp it was clear that we would not be running over. It was one of the most sad open mic nights I've ever been to.

I did have a chance to look at the most important part of any celestial gathering – the single girls in attendance. Every girl that had not been beaten with the ugly stick was sitting so close to a guy it looked like they were seeking a heat source from his armpit. That was the final straw for me.

After sacrament I was not about to stick around for priesthood and Sunday school. I figured I had enough to comment on so far and it would take three posts just to get all of my unique observations off of my chest. For the same reason I decided not to check out the family ward that also covers my area.

In the end I decided that maybe the Lord has his reasons for telling us that it is best that we go to the ward that we are assigned to. I wish I didn't always need to learn things the hard way - like the time I thought that a computer monitor wouldn't hold enough electricity to shock you in a bath tub if it wasn't plugged in...that was a bad experience in Monitor Shopping...we'll have save that for another blog some day.

Sensitivity Training...

I have been painted as a very chauvinistic and self righteous individual through my blog. Granted, it has been a result of what I have said, and more so, what you have inferred me to mean. Well, scorn women of the world take heart. I am about to undergo some very tuff reeducation therapy. This semester I am taking Communications 280. That may not sound very impressive until you know that the subject is "Communication, Culture and Gender Studies". It's about 33% communication and culture and 66% or more gender.

My text book is Gender Speak. The first chapter reminds me that, "regardless of whether you personally embrace feminism, much of what you do and enjoy today is a result of actions of and advocacy by feminists... It is because of dedicated feminists that many of you are sitting in this classroom today." I wonder how balanced this course will be...

The scheduled readings include:

• "Feminism"
  
• "American manhood"
  
• "The male myth"
  
• "Evolution of ideals for women in Mormon periodicals"
  
• "Molly Mormons, Mormon feminists and moderates"
  and my favorite
  
• "Threatened manhood"

I have decided to really jump into this with both feet. I watched "The Price Is Right" last week and was inspired by Bob when he suggested that I, "spay or neuter my pet." I called my local pound right up and found out that I could get the same surgery for the same cost as long as I didn't mind only getting a local anesthetic and shaved myself. I also obtained a tampon from my friend Carolyn and plan on using it regularly. My teacher has promised me that if I buy the first season of "The Christopher Lowell Show" on DVD and denounce all men as selfish pigs I will get no lower than an "A-". If I become a hula kumu (hula dance teacher) or hair dresser I get an "A".

Any suggestions from you on how to ease into this transition of becoming a 21st century momma's boy?

Spam, Spam, Spam...

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, SPAM!!!
- Monty Python "Spam"

I'm sure you have noticed that sometimes a comment will show up on my blog pretending to compliment me and then containing a link to some site. Ya, that's right. Those darn spam folk have found a way to ruin blogs now.

I have had a very loose policy on keeping random comments on my blog. I read each and every one. I have never deleted a single comment regardless of how much I agree or disagree with it; until now. I have unceremoniously deleted the spam. I left the first two before I noticed it was genuine spam. I also left one more on my two year anniversary post so you can see what I was talking about. To help curb the automatic generation of these cheap plugs I have activated a process that makes you type back some letters that are placed on your screen. I apologize for the inconvenience and encourage you to still leave as much or more comments as usual.

*ascends to top of homemade soap box*

Do not support these spammers!!! Do not click on these links and boycott anything they talk about. Until the government makes it legal to kill spammers we just have to ignore them. The reason why we still have spammers is because it still works. They are making money so stop supporting them!

*steps off of soap box*

Thanks, that's all.

Three Doors Down...

It has been a long time since I have spoken to you. I have a good enough excuse though. I've been homeless. Ya, homeless. Really, it's not all that bad, but you do have a feeling of restlessness when you don't know where you next meal or pillow will be. It's a unique feeling. I recommend everyone tries it at least once in life. In fact, my whole week has been informative.

After coming close to passing out from exhaustion while packing I got a vital three hours of sleep before I left to the airport. Once at the airport I saw that someone had left one of those airport baggage carts right where I was dropped off. I thought it was a good omen. If the sidewalk was made of wood I could have knocked on it. I wish I had.

I get to check in my luggage and as usual I am over weight. I play a bit of a shuffle and stuff game until I finally make every barely copasetic. Then I inquire about my seat assignment. The bleach blonde said I had none.

"But I booked it online. I clicked on the little seat and everything."

"Ya, I'm sure you did. They are not guaranteed."

I walk to screening for my anal exam. I remove my shoes, my keys, my wallet, my watch, my walkman, my cell phone, my .22 pistol and my fillings. Miraculously I made it through without the metal detector going off. It was a first for me. Maybe this was going to be alright after all. But wait! Where is my carry on? Oh, it's going through the screening for a third time.

I have a small set of screwdriver heads that could almost puncture skin if you shot them out of a cannon at someone. They had to go. This being the first time they decided that I couldn't bring them I was at a loss of words. I asked what my choices were.

"Oh, well, you can mail them home or throw them away. You had better decide soon so you can get on the plane. Now, I have to escort you out."

Sure enough, she escorted me away from the place like I was Jabba The Hut at an all you can eat buffet. I went to the information desk and asked him how much to send my stuff. He pulled out envelopes. I may not be a highly trained expert in the art of TSA security or Airport Information Services, but I do know that a whole screwdriver set will not fit in a size 10 envelope. He looked at me as if to say, "That's all I've got. What about you?"

I went to ask Hawaiian Air if they could hold my stuff at the courtesy desk for me. The line was so long I thought I'd have to walk half way back to my house to find the end of it. I quickly abandoned that idea. I came crawling back to the mongoloid working at the information desk. The best he could do was recommend that I have my hardware declared as lost. I envisioned this to mean that they will ship it to the set of the highly rated TV show thus landing me a credit in the episode where a crazy Muslim stabs someone on the island in their sleep. I was wrong.

The idea is that I leave there as a lost item and I have my mom come by and pick it up for me later. I run the risk of someone else seeing it and claiming it to be theirs or it actually becoming lost. I asked him if it would be possible to have my name on it so it would be obviously marked as mine. He looked at me incredulously and said, "Well, if it had your name on it than it wouldn't be lost, would it?" Well, duh! What I thinking!? Wanting my stuff to still be owned by me and all...

I walk back through security once again and see the person in front of me wearing black tennis shoes walk through with them on. I tried the same. I was sternly told, "I'm sorry, but those kind of shoes have to be removed." What? Was I wearing the wrong color?

I get to my over crowded gate and inquire about my seat. I am told to wait. Then they board First Class. I assumed I would be in steerage. My name was finally called and I was finally assigned a seat after the Second class citizens were already boarding. My seat was dead last in the line. The guy next to me was very tired. I know because even though he was sleeping the entire time he kept snoring and jerking every few minutes, thus bumping me into the isle as the cart comes by to smack into my elbow - frequently. It was so wonderfully synchronized I was beginning to wonder if it was some beautifully planned ballet.

Sitting in the low income section I was also the last on the list for any form of service. By the time the food cart came to me all of the food that didn't contain sawdust was gone. The person three seats down got a plate of warm lasagna. I got a stale roll with a dry slice of pressed turkey sweepings. *Yea*

My ride to campus was waiting for me when I arrived in Honolulu. A bag got a strap caught in the conveyer belt causing a back up and I didn't have any patience left to get my last bag. I jumped over the belt onto an island in the middle. I freed the bag and gave it to the owner. Just then I saw my bag passing before my eyes. I grabbed a hold of it, did a cartwheel over it landing on the other side and then pulling my bag off the belt in fluid motion. I actually got a light applause from the crowd around me. I only wish I had some visual documentation for proof of my spectacular feat.

I arrived on campus and began to wonder where I would sleep that night. I found a party for some employee's of some department that I don't work for. The food was pretty good. I would consider working there for the pot lucks alone. After that I followed up on a lead for a place to rent.

This place had new carpet and a fresh paint job, but no furniture at all. They then informed me that they have decided to go with someone else but as a consolation prize I was welcome to sleep on the floor for the night.

The next day I wandered around and paid tuition, spent 10 hours trying to clean up my computer lab for my job, and continued the house hunt. Again I had many close calls but no luck. One piece of valuable information I learned is that sleeping in the back seat of a car is not that bad, but avoid leather and/or vinyl seats. I felt like I was floating in a pool of my own sweat.

At the end of my third day I found a place here in Laie. It's a small room upstairs in the house of a lady who has had most of her children move out. The backyard is the famous Hukilau Beach. The actual entrance to the beach is only three doors down. I later found out that some of my friends live three doors down in the other direction.

Thus ends my homeless experiment. I went three days with no bed, no place to stay and eating only what I could find for free. All in all, it was not so bad. If at any time I started to get tired of it I just kept telling myself one thing: This will make for a great blog subject.

Celebrating 2 Years of Excelence...

Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, Locals and Ha'oles: I proudly announce that on this day we have now been live on the internet for two years. Happy Birthday! Here are some fun facts:

Total posts to date: 219

Total posts that were drafts but never published: 7

Original Title: "Jared's Pimp Blogger"

Original Look: Puke Green with Orange headlines. There was no way to post a comment.

First Words: "Blog one. Stardate, 1.456.3482 and 3 halfs."

Total hits from March 30, 2004 to August 26, 2005: 11,077

Post with highest amount of comments: "American Woman" with 40 comments.

Friends that started blogging following me: Faye Chong, JD Orme, Anna Nguyen, Chris Rusch, and much more.

Ran out of Ideas: One week ago.

On this special occasion I also announce that my blog, now known as "Jared's 'Menace In Mesa'" is again changing back to the apt and famous title of "Jared's 'Lost In Laie'". I will be returning back to Laie for my final year as a student at BYU-Hawaii. Right now am I working my last shift at 550AM KFYI.

Who knows what other famous blog posts I have comming up? Who knows how many more people I will offend or entertain? Who knows how much longer until I get tired of blogging and just let the site fall appart? Who knows when my blog will make me famous, get me a job writing scripts for comedy shows, then that get's me a gig performing on Saturday Night Live, thus starting my movie career, introducing me to starlets whom I will have torrid love affairs with eventually wearing me out and makeing me a has-been in the top right corner of Hollywood Squares until I am found dead of overdosing on Flamming Hot Cheetos in my cheap motel room that I will no doubt call home? Time will only tell...

The Mediocre Stuff...

I know it's been a long time since I have blogged. Want to know why? I am actually just too bored to blog. You know that you are too bored when you're too bored to blog. The source of my boredom now is weekend talk radio. For those of you who think that talk radio is already boring, just wait until you hear the weekend crew. It's kind of like the left-overs of radio. In addition, the folks that you don't hear on air is the auxiliary staff as well. That makes for a great combination.

This is a weekend host that has nothing to say: "Uh, so. How's the weather today? Is it raining where you are? Call in and tell me. The lines are now open. 6-0-2-6-5-0-5-3-9-4. Don't want to talk about the weather? That's fine. Is today a good hair day for you? Tell me about it. 6-0-2-6-5-0-5-3-9-4, that’s 6-5-0-K-F-Y-I. ... Hello? Are we on the air? ... Well, I guess it's time to go to our break. Right, guys? I'm talking to those guys in the booth. Ya? O.k. You are listening to KFYI. We are the uh...valley's talk station. ... Is my mic still on? Oh, crap was that on the air. Shi*(mic cut)."

Then the weekend board op (technical director) is bound to screw up as well. He might accidentally play the wrong commercial (spot). So, instead of playing the right one later he just cuts the audio on the air immediately. Then you hear what we call dead air. That's where you sit there wondering who is getting fired. In the station control room you see a young male age 18-25 who is sweating and red in the face. He is frantically pushing multiple buttons on his control board hoping one of these is the right one. Then one will hear the right spot...and another program...and a news cast...and a song...and the wrong spot again. Then one by one they all stop leading into 15 more seconds of dead air. Then the train is back on the track.

The part that I can't understand is how weekend radio gets a special breed of callers. I almost speculate that the regular good callers call in sick, leaving us with the weekend crew for that as well. They never call in on good subjects that are topical and relevant. When the host is trying to fill 50 minutes of time with 30 seconds of content they fall back on the old stand-bys: abortion, immigration and sex. This is the cue for all wackos and lost souls to make their move. The cheap labor board op doesn’t get paid enough to care for content so he just lets any one through. The eager but lacking host wants to share the empty feeling spotlight with anyone that will let them so they then take any call they get. After being on the air for five minutes the caller starts a tirade on being abducted by aliens, receiving anal probes and how every year on the anniversary of the event his butt tingles just a tinge.

Last person involved is the weekend producer. This person is under paid to sit in a cubicle surrounded by the empty cubicles of those that are competent enough to get a salary. Like the disillusioned staff stooge in Office Space, "Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, ah, I use the side door - that way Lumbergh [my boss] can't see me, heh - after that I sorta space out for an hour...Yeah, I just stare at my desk, but it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch too, I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work." He's hardly worth mentioning.

Yes, I love my job. This weekend has had one good effect on me. It has inspired me. It makes me want to go back to school this fall so I can get my diploma and then get paid less than my car mechanic to do the same thing with a degree.

Natural Gas...

The cost of gas right now has gone beyond sky high. I, for one, hate it! Why don't we just open up our Alaskan pipelines? Well, those eco-feaks mainly. My good friend JD lives up in Alaska. He tells me that those pipes actually have helped the natural wildlife as an additional shelter. Also, when a drill leaves town all they leave is an 8" hole of pipe sticking out with a cap on it. Other than that, you'd never know they were there.

Well, my friend, Lamb, and I have come up with a way to fight back at the rising cost. Please follow us in suit.

Natural Gas

Here Lamb is using all natural gas. I applaud him. While others are feeling the pinch at the pump he is pinching it off at the pump. Kudos! Let's all follow likewise and make the Middle East at our mercy for once!

What Happened...?

Man! I had such potential back in the eighth grade. What happened to me? Oh well...

You Know That You Are Pathetic When...

...you spend your Friday night scanning in all of the pictures you have been sent as wedding announcements...and you only did that because you needed a break from scapbooking...(which reminds me; my mission scrapbook is now complete)

Ahem...Where are my royalties...?

Well, they have finally made a movie based on my life. No, not "Dukes of Hazard". Not "Harry Potter". It's far from "Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo". It's called "The 40 Year-Old Virgin". Well, the age was fibbed because 40 rolled off of the tongue easier than 25. I argued that 25 was a good round number and I wanted to keep it more accurate.

The thing that really disturbs me about this movie is that even though it's about me, I can't go see it. It's obviously rated "R" and I image for good reasons. What a shame that I won't be able to see a movie that's all about me. That must be how Christ felt when Mel Gibson did the same thing to Him. And I bet not one cent of the profits went to Him either.

I'm Tooooo Sexy...

Not long ago I did a post on my Hot Or Not Pic. At that time I held a solid 9 out of 10. Then all of my loyal friends logged on and brought me down to a lowly 8. It has since started to recover back to 8.5. Also, whether due to this blog's exposure or just happenstance I got an e-mail from this gal (http://meetme.hotornot.com/r/?emid=S8OZNL) to meet her. I don't think I'm quite ready for it. I recomend you check out the link and see what kind of things she used as key words - YIKES!!! This is no joke, she really inquired of me.

Now ask yourselves this: Does Jared fit her criteria? This is all coppied and pasted from her profile, I made none of this up.

Qualities sought by skank-ho

• doggie (style? lover? lover?)


• feet (fetish?)


• high heels (for him or her?)


• muscles (again: for him or her?)


• new york city (never been there)


• no strings (as in Pinocchio, yes)


• oral (I assume she means hygine, so yeah, that's ok)


• tatoos (who didn't love that guy from "Fantasy Island"?)


• MUCH OLDER FEMALE


• LOOKING FOR A MUCH YOUNGER (ok, that I am, compared to her)


• DESCTRETE (never mind)


• ONCE IN A WHILE FRIEND (I've been called a "fairweather friend", that count?)


• LIVES IN NYC


• IS UNDER 30 (finally! Someone that thinks of me as young!!!)


• APPRECIATES A FEMALE AND KNOWS HOW TOO SHOW IT (depends on the female)


• MUST BE EITHER LEAN OR MUSCULAR (yeah, who'd say I'm not?)


• and DESCRETE (oh, never mind)

You know, if she just wouldn't have asked for someone who is "descrete" twice I would have been a shoe in! I guess I'll just have to wait for the next super sexy and classy gal to get up the nerve to hit on me online...

What He Can Expect When She Is Expecting...

I had the pleasure of peering into the life of my married friend. John and I have been best friends since elementary school. We both thought I'd beat him to the alter. Well, things don't always work out that way.

He is now married, living in a nice house, has two dogs and two cats and .5 children. Things are going swimmingly for him. Well, when his wife is happy, anyway.

When I was last over to his place we sat around shooting the breeze and talking about life and such. His wife came back from the store with some milk and other things. His house is well sound proofed and unless you really listen for it, you can't hear someone coming home. Just as we realized that she was home she storms into the house. John and I both in synchronization said, "Hi, Honey!" I don't have the hots for her, but I'm practicing for plural marriage reversed from the way we think of it today. My wife will appreciate the effort to see it from you point of view.

John's wife didn't seem to even hear us. Instead she puts down the milk carton and slams the other plastic bag of food on the counter while screaming at her husband. "You couldn't get up off of your f***ing a** and help me!? Let me just do it all my f***ing self! Uh!"

With this she started to beeline off toward the bedroom but not before she had the chance to take her sunglasses off and hurl them at the approaching John. He started to follow her in attempts at reconciliation but was meet by a slammed door. John looked at me and shrugged, "Well, if you ever get a pregnant wife this is what you have to look forward to." We had a quiet laugh about the whole thing knowing that we could do nothing else about it.

While sharing this experience with a female friend of mine she started to attack me for it. I don't see how it really involves me. She complained that I was not compassionate enough to the changing hormones of women. Perhaps she may be right. But then the conversation shifted and has now changed the focus of this post. Do women blame a lack of emotional control on pregnancy or periods?

See, I know that girls have hormones that we men don't understand. I can accept the fact that they make women emotional. I have bad days too. I even have learned that men have a form of a menstrual cycle that effects them emotionally too. The difference is that Women sometimes, it seems to me, use this excuse to blow their top.

How many times has this happened: a girl looses her temper at something and someone justifies it for her by saying, "Oh, well, she is just going through a visit from her Aunt Flow."? If she wasn't menstruating she would likely have similar emotions to the situation but she might just keep her cool because she has nothing to blame it on.

I had a friend of mine who used to be the boss of several women. Whenever they needed some time off they would explain to him that it was "a woman thing" and he had no recourse to stop them. Eventually he started to realize that they were having 2 to 3 "woman things" a month. He secretly kept a "flow chart" as he called it for 2 months until he had everybody's schedule down. When they would request time off for "special needs" he would check his flow chart and in no time that excuse was practically obliterated.

Women, look deep inside of you. When something makes you angry and it's that time again do you half justify your feelings by thinking to yourself that it is because of the calendar?

My argument is that we all have emotions. We all have bad and worse days. The whole purpose of being on this earth is so we can learn to control our bodies. There is never any excuse for loosing it, no matter how comforting it is to have a scapegoat. It may be harder some days or others, but we all are given power over our bodies and can maintain control if we try. "It's ok officer, I know I shot him and chopped him up into small pieces and served him to you as gumbo for six months, but I was menstruating when I did it. You understand right?" What jury in the world would convict her now? Those fried green tomato girls got away with it.

An excuse is nothing more than that, an excuse, regardless of what is going on inside. I know that pregnant women have strong emotions and will need special treatment. I know she might just start crying in the middle of the night for now apparent reason. I know that she may get angry at me for what I view as a molehill while it's a mountain to her. But the goal of control over our mortal bodies is our conquest. Excuses get us nowhere in life.

So, let's have it. Bash me as a chauvinistic pig. Say I'm insensitive. Remind me that this is why I am still single. Attack me on any personal level you wish. But ask yourself honestly if I really am all that wrong.

The Happiest Vacation On Earth...

For two days Anna, The Scotfords, and I had a fun time hopping back and forth between the two parks, Disneyland and California Adventure. I have a ton of pictures so I will let them speak for most of our trip.

To get us warmed up, we went to Downtown Disney outside of the park the day before. Rob and Wendy got the kids a Build-A-Bear, getting warmed up for the spending that was about to come.

The first of many, many pictures take at Disneyland

The sign that greets you into Disneyland: The Happiest Place On Earth.

I'm too sexy for my hat...

No, we did not reenact Lady and the Trap. I forgot that she dosen't like Cinnamon. Oh well, more Churro for me.

Finally, a car that Anna can drive!

Disneyland's self proclaimed Famous Grizly Peak

A shot of California Adventure

Crazy Fun ride, the "Hollywood Tower Of Terror". I highly recomend it.

Somehow Anna got the impression that the tighter she pulled my shirt the safer she would be on the ride. The good news is that I did not need a seatbelt because she was holding me down so tight.

A great real life representation of the Toy Soldiers from Toy Story. I want this for my next Halloween costume!

This is the ride that recently had an accident injuring 30+ and sending 14 to the hospital. Anna vows to never go on it again.

He is about 5 times heavier than he looks. By the end of the two days, we were all wasted...except him.

We drove back the night of our second day at Disneyland. Rob and I were both on the verge of driving with our dreams. I kept on feeling like I was on Peter Pan's ride, looking down at small cars and streets from above. We stopped at a gas station about 12:30 am and I tried my first energy drink. I tried "Adrinaline". I don't think it did a thing for me. Maybe I didn't drink enough. All I know is that when I finally made it home after 2:30am, I had no problem getting to sleep!

After a few days of work (the day I got back and the next day for 14 hours) Anna went home and I returned to normal. Now all I want to do is go on more vacations...and strangely, I feel like scrapbooking the whole trip...