Goodbye

Driving just to drive happens to me a lot. The drives are never planned, they just happen. Nothing ever comes out of the drives, except once. That one drive changed my life.

I missed my turn. I'd missed it before. I would just have to drive a little farther and take the next available turn. They both got me home.

I missed my turn again. I was left with two options: turn around or head into the canyon toward Bear Lake. I don't know why, but I took the Bear Lake option.

I hated going to Bear Lake. It always made me think of my dad. Thinking of my dad always led to crying. This time was no different. My crying did not cease for the rest of the night.I wanted to turn around, but I didn't. I wound my way along the canyon road with tears streaming down my face, with what I call my sleepy playlist playing in the background. I disguise it as my sleepy playlist, depressed would be a better name for it. 

I was still unsure as to why I was going to Bear Lake. I was looking for something. I just didn't know what it was yet. I got to the end of the canyon road and I all I knew is that I wanted to go left. It was somewhere on the northwest side of Bear Lake, along the main road.

How am I going to know when I find it? That was the only thought in my head. It had been 15 years since I had been near the spot. Surely I wouldn't recognize it.

I didn't recognize it. I passed it. I knew I had gone too far, but I couldn't convince myself of that. I kept driving. I finally listened to myself when I reached Montpelier, Idaho. I had gone 30 miles past the point where I knew I had gone too far. I wasn't even on the northwest end of Bear Lake anymore, and that is all I knew about where I wanted to be. I was over on the northeast end.

I turned around headed back the way I came. I was going home. I had wasted an entire night and I don't even know what it was I was intending to do. I drove along, tears still flowing, questions going through my head. Why did I want to go back there? What was I going to do when I got there, stand there?

I'd been standing there for 15 years.

Standing there, watching the open gate so no animals would escape.

Standing there, as my dad started the tractor and began to pull the heavy load of the cabin.

Standing there, watching the front end rise slightly from the heavy load as the tractor attempted to make it up the small slope to the road.

Standing there, as my mom and oldest brother got on the frontto help counterbalance the load.

Standing there, as my brother jumped off as the front end started to rise again, this time uncontrollably with my mom still on.

Standing there, the front end sticking straight up, my mom still atop. The front end jerking, throwing my mom off and trying to return to the ground twice as fast as it went up. Only to find a tractor in its way, and my dad, still in the driver's seat.

Standing in the house across the street, staring at the numerous flashing lights.

Standing as one with my brothers, as my mom lay in her hospital bed trying to find the words to tell us what had happened.

Standing there, 6 years old, too young to comprehend what had just happened.

I was glad I hadn't found the spot. I needed to move on, stop standing there. It had been 15 years.

Then I saw it.

It looked completely different, but something about it was still the same. I knew it was the place I had been looking for; it was differently the same.

I slowed down, said goodbye and continued on my way home.

Goodbye. One word. My tears became those of relief and happiness.

It had been three hours since I missed my turn. Nothing had really changed except that it was a little darker, but for me my path had never before been so well lit.

Sex In The Gym, Adam Carolla and The Time I Couldn't Stop Laughin

g.

If you are wondering what that lone 'g' is, it there because I ran out of room in the title. I didn't just drop the 'g' on purpose.  (Please note that I originally wrote this on Facebook where there is a limit to how long your title can be.  There is no limit on here, that I've found.  I Just thought I would keep things consistent.  Then I added this little disclaimer, making things not consistent.) 

"Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah Ahh, Ahhh, Ahhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhh, Ahhhhhh, Ahhhhhhhh, Aaahhhhhhhhhh."

That's what I heard in the gym yesterday. I was surprised to hear anything. I had my headphones in. I normally can't hear anything when I have them in. I could hear these sounds of what I thought was pure excitement and ecstasy loud and clear. They would have been deafening cries without my headphones. 

Is someone watching porn? Did the gym get hard up for money and they are letting people shoot porn in here 

If you remember back to my last post, I told you about these two guys that are always at the gym now. The one is obviously on steroids and I think the other one may be. It turns out there is a third one. He's not on steroids, but I can only assume he will be soon if he always goes to the gym with those two. 

They guy who just took his shirt off in the middle of the gym and started flexing for no reason the other day, he's the one who was having sex in the gym. At least it sounded like sex. 

I had to go check it out. You know, in case he wasn't really having sex and he was dying or something. 

Turns out he was just doing leg extensions. He wasn't having sex at all. A feeling of disappointment, I mean foolishness came over. I can't believe I thought he was having sex. 

The guy was doing a burnout set. At least I hope that is what he was doing, he was only lifting 60 pounds or so. For those that don't know that a burnout set is, I'll fill you in. A lot of times, when lifting, for their last set people will do three or four sets with relatively light weight. People will do it because it's good to do and it gives you a gauge on how good your workout before that set was. Even though it's a light weight, if you had a good, hard workout before you won't be able to get that many reps in.

He was doing a light weight so he would start out fast and then slow down as he had to strain more and more to get the weight up. I can understand breathing hard or a little grunt. But this guy was making noises I've never heard before. Even for sex they would have been a little too much. 

If it wasn't for the fact that he was only lifting 60 pounds and that no one is ever at the gym I go to, I'd think he was one of those guys that just lifts so people will see him there and see how much he can lift. You know, like all the people at the Fieldhouse. 

To make things worse he was doing legs that day and he walked around doing that Speedo thing with his shorts again. 

I hate this guy. If only he was like every other person who starts going to the gym in January. I'd only have to put up with maybe two more weeks of this. 

I know the title also has Adam Carolla in it and the time I couldn't stop laughing, but I don't want to write about those and make this thing too long. 

I actually never intended to write about those two things in here. I'm going to save them for a later time. They are really just in the title as a reminder to myself that I have to write about them. 

Sorry to Adam Carolla, if he read this expecting to read something himself. 

So This Guy Walks Into This Bar...

If you want to know what happens to the guy in the bar, it's at the end of this. I suggest reading this or you won't get it. 

I hate January. All these people with their resolutions to lose weight. They all made the same resolution last year. They're still just as fat if not fatter now. Stop making the resolution, you are just taking up space in the gym.

As many of you know I pay $20 a month to go to an uncrowded gym, instead of going to the Fieldhouse for free. I'm not telling you which gym cause I don't want you crowding the place up. The reason I don't go to the Fieldhouse is mostly because of the crowding.

The Fieldhouse is treated more like a lounge than a gym. It's just full of people sitting and laying on the equipment. Occasionally they'll use it. You know while there are using it they are saying 'hey baby look at me' in their head. 

Then you have the people on the cardio equipment. They're just using that stuff so people will look at them and be impressed that they are running/biking/ellipticaling. Never mind the fact that they are just going to eat a half gallon of ice cream when they get home and they had 4 pieces of cake before they went. Look at them now though. They are on the treadmill.

Whenever I go to the Fieldhouse I just ride the bike. Sometimes I do other stuff, but that is rare. Along with the normal bike I always do the hand bike. It's like my big 'eff you to everyone in there. I use the one thing in there practically no one else ever uses. Quite possibly the gayest thing in the place. I use it cause it's good to use, but it doesn't hurt that it makes a statement at the same time. I know I look gay when I use it, but I'm not there to not look gay. I'm there to work out. That's what the rest of you should be there for. 

Working out is not what people are there for though. They are there to look good, try to at least. Then they look around at all the other people. I'm surprised there aren't more accidents in there with the amount of looking going on. But I guess you have to actually be doing something for an accident to occur. The Fieldhouse is pretty much a G-rated peep show. Maybe even PG. Whatever it is, it sure isn't a gym anymore. 

You're also expected to talk to people when you are at the gym. This occurs at every gym I suppose, but it's even worse at the peep show known as the Fieldhouse. I don't talk to people when I'm at the gym. I go out of my to not talk to people. I even go out of my way to not give people a wink, a nod, a smile, a hand raise or anything. I try to just avoid eye contact all together. 

Against my will, I feel obligated to say something to one guy that goes to my gym. He's always there when I'm there. I feel like I have to say something. I'm not a dick and I don't want him thinking that. That still doesn't stop me from trying to avoid him. I won't go in the locker room when he's in there. I walk around machines to avoid him. Inevitably though, our paths cross. I'm forced to give a small hand wave and say something. I always have my headphones in and I can't hear anything with them in. He says something to me and I'll say something back. I can't hear him though, so I'm sure my response is always non-sensical. I probably am always yelling at him too. That doesn't matter though, cause we are the only ones in there. 

That was until last month. It happens every year at January. The gym gets crowded. I know they'll all be gone soon. They can't hack it. They just sit on the equipment anyways. I can wait the few more weeks until they go back to watching their soap operas at home.

The problem is that there is these two new guys. I think they may keep coming. I've seen them a couple of times before, but ever since the new year they have been in regularly. This isn't a big problem. They just make 4 people in there instead of 2. The problem is the guy on steroids. Don't act like you aren't on steroids either. I saw you back in September/Octoberish time. That was only 4 months ago. You just don't naturally get that much bigger in 4 months. 

I don't have a problem with his steroid taking. If he wants small testicles, so be it. It's the fact that he walks around pulling his shorts up like a Speedo as he walks around. Then the other day, right in the middle of the gym, he just takes his shirt off. Taking his shirt off just made it more apparent of steroid use. But really, you need to take your shirt off in the middle of the gym with like 8 other people in there? Seriously, are you gay? Then he proceeds to flex in the mirror for a couple of minutes. Who the hell does this guy think he is? At least go to locker room.

If he's just going to flex and admire himself all time time he should just go to the Fieldhouse. He'd fit in there. That's all the goes on there. 

I didn't mean to go on like that. I just went on an Adam Carolla type rant. I realize this often times didn't make sensee, but that is what a rant is. It's a coincidence that I went on a Adam Carolla rant because that is another thing I was going to talk about. I'll do that at a later date. 

But anyways, this guy walks into this bar. He orders a couple of beers throughout the night. Turns out this bar has Wi-Fi and he just happens to have his laptop on him. So he logs on to Facebook. He's a little drunk by this point. He starts reading some notes. What was he reading? Some poem by this Amanda chick. Last call comes and he orders another beer. Goes outside and calls a cab to take him home. 

He left his laptop there, still open showing the poem written by some Amanda chick. The bartender changes the page the screen is on. He changes it to a new note. What note is it? It's this one. 

The guy comes back the next day to get his laptop. To his surprise, it's still open on the counter. He can tell it's still on a Facebook note. As he gets closer he can see that it isn't the poem by some Amanda chick. It's this note. He doesn't remember looking at this note. 

"What the hell?" He says. "I must have been really wasted last night to read this crap."

Not all stories that start with a guy going into a bar are funny. 

Farewell To A Legend

The next Matt Damon.

A young Marlon Brando. 

Those words have been used to describe one man. He was more than a man. He was a living legend. Now he's a dead legend. 

As many of you probably already know, actor extraordinaire Heath Ledger died yesterday. Taken from us to soon. He had so much more to do in his life. Like act in some more movies. Don't worry though, he's got one more move left in him. He'll be in the new Batman movie. He was also in the middle of filming some other movie. They will probably just re-cast his role, but here is what they should do. 

They have to re-cast his role. Someone has to play it. But the stuff Heath has already filmed, keep it in the movie. It would be a great homage. And since they film movies out of order it would also be hilarious. You'd get Heath in one scene and then some other dude in the next. I recommend getting Zac Efron. 

Heath Andrew Ledger, sometimes he'd go by Heathcliff. You gotta love that. He was destined for stardom. He never took an acting class and he never graduated high school. He was just a natural. Acted on instincts is how he put it.

He started in Australia. He played a gay olympic hopeful. Cyclist I think it was. Then he comes to America and he pretty much immediately gets a role in 10 Things I Hate About You. A movie that had a sweet high school in it. 

I think he actually got his first american role in The Patriot. 10 Things I Hate About You was just released first. He was discovered by Mel Gibson. Mel freaking Gibson.

He then went on to make 3 million for his role in A Knight's Tale. A movie that I get confused with First Knight. I don't remember which one is which. I still get them confused to this day. It used to piss me off, but now I like that I can't keep them straight. Heath Ledger's legend will always live on in my mind if I keep confusing the two movies. 

He then went on to do Monster's Ball. A movie made famous by Halle Berry's boobs. 

He didn't really do any movies of consequence again until 2005, when he was in The Brothers Grimm. 

He was also nominated for for an Oscar in 2005. It was for his role in some western. At least I think it was western. I saw a preview for the movie once and he was wearing a cowboy hat, so I assume it was a western. He had this real rough and tough sidekick in it played by Jake Gyllenhaal. I bet they went around raising some hell in that movie. Shooting people up. Stuff like that. 

He lost the Oscar though. Philip Seymour Hoffman won for his role in Capote. That was a movie I did see. It was good. A brilliant acting job by Hoffman. I can see why Heath lost. Although they should probably go back in time and take the Oscar from Hoffman and give it to Heath. It would be a way of paying respect to The Ledge. Hoffman will have more opportunities to win an Oscar. Ledger won't have any more, he's dead and he sure won't get one for a stupid Batman movie. 

Why didn't people call Heath Ledger The Ledge? They should have. I'm gonna start calling him Ledge the Legend. 

But just like Ledge the Legend lost his Oscar, he's now lost his life. The good news is we still have one more blockbuster coming from Ledge the Legend. The Dark Knight should be out sometime this summer. The bad news is that people are saying his portrayal of The Joker isn't as good as previous actors who played the same role. I find this hard to believe. Ledge the Legend is a legend. He doesn't do bad acting. 

(I just realized that I am now going to get First Knight, A Knight's Tale and The Dark Knight all confused with each other. It's even going to be more confusing than before. Especially since Ledge the Legend is in two of them. Then again, Ledge the Legend will live on in my mind forever, so that is good.)

Perhaps Ledger's greatest role came in bagging an Olsen twin. (Although if he had done this 5 years earlier he would have been a god in the eyes of many. He was a little late on the Olsen twin train. But still, it was an Olsen twin. A freaking Olsen twin.) The problem with that movie is that the ending wasn't very good. It just ended with him dying naked on Mary-Kates bed, a bottle of sleeping pills nearby.

May Heath 'The Legend' Ledger live on forever in our hearts.

Marty Has Nothing To Say

That's right.  Nothing. absolutely nothing.

Let me just say a couple of things though. 

 

I got a haircut the other day and before I say what I want to say, let me start with a few words about the actual haircut it's self.  Usually when you get a haircut you will always get the couple of people that notice and say something about it.  Unless you are a girl and just go in for a trim.

But have you ever noticed that whenever a girl just gets a trim they still want you to notice they got a haircut?  How in the world are we supposed to notice you got an inch or two taken off, when your hair is 40 inches long to begin with?  So stop complaining.  Maybe if you change your hair color or chop off a lot people will notice and say something.  Except me.  I don't say stuff like that.  I like to look at them as if I know something about them is different, but I don't know quite what it is.  Then you casually bring it up a month later like you just noticed.  It keeps them guessing.  Keeps them on their toes.  

Back to my haircut.

After my most recent haircut, an inordinate amount of people have mentioned it.  This says to me one of two things.  The haircut is just really that freaking good or, the more plausible scenario in this situation, the haircut is just the worst thing ever and everyone just wants you to feel good about it.  Then they go and make snide and often time hilarious comments about it when you leave the room.  Don't forgot about people combing their hair in ridiculous ways, then walking into a room and saying "who am I?"  Yeah, they do that too.  I know it seems like a long way to go just for a joke, but sometimes that what a joke takes to pay off, commitment.   

 

Now for the real reason I brought up the haircut.  

I got a talker.  Now I don't know about you, but I don't like to talk while my hair is getting cut.  I like to pay full attention to them cutting my hair.  Make sure they don't mess up.  I once told a good friend of mine who was cutting my hair to shut up and just cut, we can talk after you cut my hair.  In hindsight, it probably wasn't the nicest thing I've ever said, but it was needed.  What were we going to accomplish in the 20 minutes of conversation?  Most likely nothing.  I was going to have this haircut with me for weeks.  What was more important in this situation, the haircut or the conversation?  I think it's a simple answer. 

But as I was saying, this lady just wouldn't shut up.  (Reason number two I think the haircut just isn't the greatest.)  

Somewhere in the conversation I came to learn that this lady had no clue about the writers strike.  Now when I say nothing, I mean absolutely nothing.  I think she was just surprised to learn that they were writers that wrote TV shows, movies and such.  

I can kind of see how this could happen.  Maybe she doesn't watch TV, so she doesn't really care.  But it's semi-big news and if you are in LA or New York it's still top story stuff.  I now wasn't able to see how this lady had heard nothing of a writers strike.  I'd be surprised if she's ever even heard the word strike.  She better get used to it though.  If she has a son I'm sure the kid is going to be a loser and will strike out a lot in Little League.  I feel bad for her kid or future kid.  Mom's like that just turn their kids into losers.  It's not the kids fault.

Now if you think me calling this lady a loser for not knowing about the writers strike, writers or a strike is harsh, it gets worse.  Somewhere in the conversation I was able to bring up Hilary Clinton crying.  Nothing.  She actually stopped cutting my hair and bewilderedly looked at me with the help of the mirror.  I had to explain myself.  I mentioned how Hilary cried like a little school girl and then won the New Hampshire caucus.  She just gave me a dirty look.  I think it was for saying caucus.  

I then asked her some other election related questions.  She knew absolutely nothing about anything.  I kept saying caucus because it was funny to look at her face each time I said it.  

This lady was an idiot.  (Reason number three I think the haircut is a bad one.)  

I imagine that is how a conversation with George Bush would go.   He'd snicker each time you said caucus and then he'd say Osama, we can't find him.  You say he was in Iowa?  We'll bomb the crap out of it.  Were is it?

That's just my few words, but really I have nothing to say.  Sorry if you were expecting something.  

My Water Bottles

Whenever there is a basketball game I always bring along some water.  Saturday was no different.  I always take at least three bottles and I've take as many as six before.  I'm still amazed I was able to fit six into my coat.  On Saturday I took three, two of which ended up on the hood of Hottie's Jeep.  

In hindsight I should have take four bottles.  I ran out of water for the stretch run of the game.  I had to watch the last ten minutes waterless.  I thought I was good though.  I went to the line with a Jamba.  A line I got in at three for the 7 O'clock tip.  

I thought a Jamba would be able to replace two water bottles, since it takes me two hours to drink one for some reason.  The Jamba was only able to replace 1 1/2 bottles.  I miscalculated by half a bottle.  

(This isn't really pertinent at all, but I'm going to mention it anyways.  Some of you may remember the how to guide I did for my ipod game Phase.  Well I've been playing it for months on hard trying to unlock the expert difficulty.  I'd never been able to do it.  I played it once when I was standing in line for the game.  I passed it.  I passed it with ease.  It's funny really.  I can't pass it from the comfort of a chair, but I have no problem passing it with people all around me pushing in every direction.)

So the game ends and like a good patron I pick up my water bottles to throw them away.  Only I forgot.  I found myself outside of the Spectrum with two empty water bottles still in hand.  The only thing I could think to do with them is bang them together.  The noise they made as I hit them together cause quite a racket.  Most people nearby looked as though they were going to hit me if I didn't stop.  So I stopped. 

Banging the water bottles together made me want some ThunderStix.  I spent the next five minutes talking about how we should get ThunderStix at the basketball games.  I don't want to use them at the game though.  There is no use for them during the game.  It can't get any noisier in there.  I just want some ThunderStix.

When I got done talking about my ThunderStix, a conversation that I was the only participant in, I still had the two water bottles.  It had gotten to the point now where I was just going to have to take them home to throw them away.  But then a place to put/throw my water bottles found me.  

Some douche in a Jeep was exiting the parking lot we were walking through.  I already thought the guy was a jerk because when the car in front of him stopped to let some people walk by he didn't stop until he was about a foot away from the car in front of him.  The car in front of him pulled out in the street.  We took the opportunity to cross in front of the Jeep.  

Still in form the guy was still a douche.  He didn't stop.  He kept driving forward.  Nearly hitting my lady friends.  I nonchalantly tossed one of my water bottles over my head, hoping to hit the Jeep.  I wasn't sure if I had hit it or not, so I turned around and just threw the other right at the Jeep.  I got it that time.  

We continued our way across he street when the guy pulls up beside us.  He said some stuff about kicking my ass, something about f'ing me up and something about him being crazy.  I just stood there looking at him.  The only thing I could think about was, damn, this guy is fat.  It was quite hilarious really.

His fat wife/girlfriend/escort/prostitute or whoever she was made the situation even more hilarious.  She kept trying to roll the window up.  It was great.  

Finally the guy drove off.  I bent down and picked up the first thing I could find.  It was a nice piece of snow, more ice than snow really.  It didn't really matter what I picked up, I was going to throw it.  It could have been a rock.  I didn't care.  

I threw the piece of ice.  Bulls-eye.  Right in the back of his jeep.  Having hit the Jeep I kept walking.  

Apparently Jordan had driven to the game and I had walked past his car.  So I had to walk back to get in.  I walked back, got in and we drove off.  

As we were driving  we saw fatty fat McDouche walking down the street.  He had pulled his Jeep over and was now walking back in the direction where he thought I was.  Little did he know we had just driven past him.  

As if that wasn't good enough it got better when I was informed that his license plate said HOTTIE.  Now I kind of want to find his Jeep and make his license plate say FATTIE.  

My Water Bottles

Whenever there is a basketball game I always bring along some water.  Saturday was no different.  I always take at least three bottles and I've take as many as six before.  I'm still amazed I was able to fit six into my coat.  On Saturday I took three, two of which ended up on the hood of Hottie's Jeep.  

In hindsight I should have take four bottles.  I ran out of water for the stretch run of the game.  I had to watch the last ten minutes waterless.  I thought I was good though.  I went to the line with a Jamba.  A line I got in at three for the 7 O'clock tip.  

I thought a Jamba would be able to replace two water bottles, since it takes me two hours to drink one for some reason.  The Jamba was only able to replace 1 1/2 bottles.  I miscalculated by half a bottle.  

(This isn't really pertinent at all, but I'm going to mention it anyways.  Some of you may remember the how to guide I did for my ipod game Phase.  Well I've been playing it for months on hard trying to unlock the expert difficulty.  I'd never been able to do it.  I played it once when I was standing in line for the game.  I passed it.  I passed it with ease.  It's funny really.  I can't pass it from the comfort of a chair, but I have no problem passing it with people all around me pushing in every direction.)

So the game ends and like a good patron I pick up my water bottles to throw them away.  Only I forgot.  I found myself outside of the Spectrum with two empty water bottles still in hand.  The only thing I could think to do with them is bang them together.  The noise they made as I hit them together cause quite a racket.  Most people nearby looked as though they were going to hit me if I didn't stop.  So I stopped. 

Banging the water bottles together made me want some ThunderStix.  I spent the next five minutes talking about how we should get ThunderStix at the basketball games.  I don't want to use them at the game though.  There is no use for them during the game.  It can't get any noisier in there.  I just want some ThunderStix.

When I got done talking about my ThunderStix, a conversation that I was the only participant in, I still had the two water bottles.  It had gotten to the point now where I was just going to have to take them home to throw them away.  But then a place to put/throw my water bottles found me.  

Some douche in a Jeep was exiting the parking lot we were walking through.  I already thought the guy was a jerk because when the car in front of him stopped to let some people walk by he didn't stop until he was about a foot away from the car in front of him.  The car in front of him pulled out in the street.  We took the opportunity to cross in front of the Jeep.  

Still in form the guy was still a douche.  He didn't stop.  He kept driving forward.  Nearly hitting my lady friends.  I nonchalantly tossed one of my water bottles over my head, hoping to hit the Jeep.  I wasn't sure if I had hit it or not, so I turned around and just threw the other right at the Jeep.  I got it that time.  

We continued our way across he street when the guy pulls up beside us.  He said some stuff about kicking my ass, something about f'ing me up and something about him being crazy.  I just stood there looking at him.  The only thing I could think about was, damn, this guy is fat.  It was quite hilarious really.

His fat wife/girlfriend/escort/prostitute or whoever she was made the situation even more hilarious.  She kept trying to roll the window up.  It was great.  

Finally the guy drove off.  I bent down and picked up the first thing I could find.  It was a nice piece of snow, more ice than snow really.  It didn't really matter what I picked up, I was going to throw it.  It could have been a rock.  I didn't care.  

I threw the piece of ice.  Bulls-eye.  Right in the back of his jeep.  Having hit the Jeep I kept walking.  

Apparently Jordan had driven to the game and I had walked past his car.  So I had to walk back to get in.  I walked back, got in and we drove off.  

As we were driving  we saw fatty fat McDouche walking down the street.  He had pulled his Jeep over and was now walking back in the direction where he thought I was.  Little did he know we had just driven past him.  

As if that wasn't good enough it got better when I was informed that his license plate said HOTTIE.  Now I kind of want to find his Jeep and make his license plate say FATTIE.  

Is Your Favorite Color Blue?

I used to remember my dreams all the time.  Back in elementary I had the coolest dreams.  I would always remember them so vividly.  I think it was because I was only partially asleep.  When I was in elementary my mom would wake me up at 530 or 6 to take me to the baby-sitter.  Those were my cool guy days.  I'd sleep with the clothes on that I was going to wear the next day.  I can't remember how much I showered, but it couldn't have been much.  I don't think I ever wore pants in elementary school either.  Those were the days.

I'd always sit in the same chair when I got to the baby-sitter's house and fall asleep.  I loved that chair.  I could have slept on the couch and I think there may have even been a bed I could have slept on.  For some reason I chose that chair though.  It's been 10 plus years since I've seen that chair let alone sit in it, but I remember it like I just sat in it yesterday.  It was a brown chair, with an almost sandpaper like finish.  The chair was so old that the thousands of little bumps on it had been worn down smooth.  It felt like I was sitting on a chair that people had been sticking ABC gum on over the years.    I loved that chair.  

I had thousands of dreams in that chair.  I don't remember any specific ones, just that I had them and could remember most, if not all of them.  One did have Billy Ray Cyrus heavily involved.  One of the girls who also went to the same babysitter was in love with Billy Ray and constantly talked about him.  So there is an easy explanation as to why Billy Ray was featured in one of my dreams.  If only I had known about his daughter at the time.  

The day I stopped going to the baby-sitter was the day I stopped dreaming, remembering them at least.  I really can't remember the last time I remembered a dream that didn't take place in that brown chair.  That was until a couple of weeks ago.  

Here's my dream.

My friend Patrick had opened up a scooter store.  He sold motorized scooters and such.  I bought two of his scooters from him.  Not just any scooters though.  Two electric scooters, two blue ones, two blue electric scooters.  

I took those scooters with me everywhere.  I took them to the mall once.  I even tried to take them inside the mall, but they wouldn't let me, so I had to park them out front.  

Maybe this isn't how the dream really went, but this is how I remember it.  The majority of my dream I remember as a montage.  Just little clips of me driving the scooters around or me sitting inside somewhere looking at my scooters parked out front.  Goofy grin on my face the entire time.  

Towards the end of the dream I went back to Patrick's scooter shop to tell him how great the scooters were.  For some reason half of Patrick's scooter shop was now a deli.  Half of the store had scooters and the other half had sandwiches.  It got a little confusing because there was only one counter.  You bought your scooter and sandwich from the same counter.  Convenient I suppose, if you are buying a scooter and want a sandwich.  

The dream ended with me eating a sandwich, staring out the window at my scooters, goofy grin and everything.  My life seemed complete.  

Everything seemed so incomplete the next day when I started thinking about the dream.  I was driving around a couple of days after the dream.  Just thinking about what a cool dream that was.  About how awesome it would be to have two electric scooters.  I thought about the dream too long though.  I began to see the flaws in my dream.  

The two blue electric scooters:  Sure they were great and all.  The problem comes in the fact that they BOTH went every where with me.  Every time I ever looked out the window looking at my two blue electric scooters in euphoria, they were both there.  Yet it was always just me where ever I went.  No one was with me.  How did I get two blue electric scooters with me everywhere?  I was so perplexed.  

I told Justin about my dream and he said something interesting.  He said that maybe the dream meant that I need someone in life.  Someone to ride that second scooter.  Someone who wants to ride that second blue electric scooter.  

The fact that the scooter went everywhere with me doesn't just mean that I want someone to ride that second scooter with me through life, it means that I need somebody.  

So the way I see it, all I need to do now is find someone who's favorite color is blue and likes electricity.  Once I find them,  I immediately marry them.  Then we spend the rest of our lives together, riding our two blue electric scooters.

Marty's Extreme Posting

This is too long to read over.  Deal with the mistakes.  

As my three loyal readers know, I don't write these outside of work.  Although I did write one outside of work once, so I already kind of ruined that.  I'm back at work now, so it's time to update you on some things I've missed.  I'll try to keep it short.  

As some of you are already aware, I went to Seattle for Christmas this year.  Here are some highlights of that trip.  You may already be aware of some of my highlights.  That is if you looked at the seven pictures I took of my trip.  That's right, I was gone for six days and only took seven pictures.  

I didn't even have to leave the Seattle Airport for my first great experience.  We were at the car rental place.  For some reason it was taking forever to get the cars.  There wasn't much to do other than sit there.  That's when I noticed this vent.  I kept seeing people's legs through the vent.  The only thing even close to this vent was the ladies bathroom.  Surely there wasn't a vent that allowed you to see in the ladies bathroom. We sent my step sister in to investigate.  Turns out there really was a vent that allowed you to see into the ladies bathroom.  I was disappointed however because we had given her specific instructions to get on the ground and put her face up to the vent.  She wouldn't do this because she said there were too many people in there.  I was also a little disappointed in the fact that you could only see from about the knees down and that the vent was just by the sinks.

Not really a highlight, but we got some family pictures taken.  The problem with these pictures is there is about 20 of us.  Some of whom I'd never met before.  Some I'd met once or twice.  I think there were about seven people there who I'd never talked to before, there is still three of them.  A really long story short, it took 3 or 4 hours to take pictures.  We had to have shots of just these people and then one with just those people.  Then one with these and those people combined.  Then one with just some of these people and just some of those people together.  I decided to get just some of me.  The best picture of the day though, The Random Sampler.  If your birthday was on an odd month, even day, you were in the picture.  

After the picture marathon we went to go eat at The Metropolitan Grill.  A nice enough place.  I got to check my coat and stuff.  The way you know it's not a real nice place is the fact that you can where pretty much whatever you want. This was made evident by all the people in Seahawks jerseys.  There was a football game earlier so a lot of these people were already drunk making things quite funny.  Those fun times ended when we were taken to the board room, that's where they keep the big table.  There is also a little round table that fits seven or eight.  I proceeded to order my $115 steak.  Then the real fun started.  

This crazed black lady comes running into our little board room area.  She was looking at the pictures on the wall.  They have pictures lining the walls of "famous" people that have been the restaurant.  I put famous in quotes as some of the people appear to just be random people to me.  The crazed lady was looking for the picture of her husband, Leonard Weaver.  See what I mean when I say that some of the people on the walls aren't really famous.  Turns out he's the starting full back for the Seahawks.  She also verified that they guy sitting at the round table was on the team as well.  Although his name can't be found anywhere on the roster.  But Mrs. Weaver said he was on the team, so he's on the team.  What did I learn from this experience?  That football player's wives are just like me.  Had a picture of my semi-famous wife been up in a restaurant I would have also ran around like a mad man looking for it.  I should have taken a picture and sent it into that magazine that does that stars are just like us thing.  Like where they take the garbage out and stuff.  I could have taken a picture of Mrs. Weaver with the caption of, 'stars have crazy wives too.'

The main freeway that goes through Seattle is the I-5.  My brother kept making this stupid I-5 joke.  He'd just say I-5 and then hold his hand up as if he wanted a high five.  It was slightly funny, but then the joke turned less funny.  We were walking around whatever town the ferry takes you too when I stopped to look at the newspapers.  On the front page was a small blurb about a man that was shot on the freeway and killed for swinging a belt around.  All on Christmas day for crying out loud.  I almost paid the $1.50 for the paper so I could read the whole story.  Then I remembered I could just wait until I get back to the hotel and look online.  

Turns out some dude just ran onto the freeway, took his shirt off and started swinging his belt around.  He just went around hitting cars with his belt.  He attempted to open cars doors according to witnesses.  According to some he even attempted to take his pants off.  What do they mean by attempted?  Could he just not get them off, or what?  Shouldn't they have been easy to get off since he already had his belt off?  Or does he have a special car hitting belt?

The police show up and apparently the dude is impervious to tasers.  One of the officers approached the man.  The dude threatened to hit the cop with his belt.  He even swung it around a couple of times.  I'm guessing this is where the cop said screw it.  Getting hit with a belt could hurt.  This cop wasn't going to get hit by a belt once or twice just to arrest a guy.  That's what I choose was going through the cop's head.  Whatever went through his head, one thing we know for sure is that he pulled his gun out and shot him six times.  Six freaking times for hitting a few cars with a belt?  Turns out the dude died from the six gunshots, what a sissy.  

That I-5 joke my brother kept telling all week, not so funny anymore. 

The whole trip actually went fairly smooth.  We never had to wait at the airport or in traffic or anything like that.  That was until we were getting out luggage in Salt Lake.  At least we made it until the end of the trip before something went wrong.  The luggage was backed up big time.  We had to wait like 45 minutes before our luggage even came out.  And by that time there was already luggage from like 3 or 4 other planes on the little baggage thing.  There was quite a crowd that had formed around the luggage thing.  There was about 3 or 4 other people in front of me.  I'm sitting there waiting for my luggage when all of a sudden this guy just starts shoving people.  He pushed one lady on the little baggage thing.  Then she started taking people out as her legs were still sticking off the baggage thing.  She knocked over like five people before someone finally got her off the baggage thing.  When everything calmed down everyone just looked back at the man who started the hole thing.  He was walking away with bags in hand.  "What a jackass".  I said it but everyone else was thinking it.  That jackass, my step dad.  

The worst part about my trip to Seattle is that it was pretty much forced upon me.  Not bad, except that was my Christmas present too.  I got a forced Christmas present.  It wasn't a bad present, I just had nothing to show for it since I didn't take any pictures.  So I got back and felt like I had to go buy some stuff.  I went to Wal*Mart and bought five DVDs.  I bought Titanic, Bruce Almighty, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Super Troopers and Fight Club.  Here is my reasoning that led me to buy each one.  

Titanic:  Pretty simple reasoning behind this one.  I figured that this is the most watched movie in the world,  I should have it.

Bruce Almighty:  I went on a date once and we went to this movie.  It turns out that her parents went to the same movie.  It also turns out that they were sitting two rows behind us.  I remember the movie at all but I remember everything else, so I bought it.  

Mr. and Mrs. Smith:  I also saw this movie while on a date once.  The only thing I really remember about that date is that she fell of a 4-wheeler a couple weeks prior and it ran over her foot, so she was on crutches.  Like Bruce Almighty I remember nothing about that movie, but I remember the date, so I bought the movie.  There is also a song that reminds me of her so I had to listen to that on the way home.  

Super Troopers:   I don't remember this movie either, except that one of the guys looks like one of my friends from high school.  Now that I think of it he may not even look like the guy, he just did something that one of the guys on the movie does.  That was my reasoning behind buying this one.

Fight Club:  This one is just a good movie.  

As you can see  my reasoning behind buying 80% of the stuff I own is twisted reasoning.  That's why I have so much crap and only 3 or 4 things worth having.