Tuesday, October 7, 2008

It's raining bikes!

Sleek new bicycle
A woody rack on the back
The rain is a fool

So I finally was able to get the bike rack I purchased attached to my beach cruiser. It looks amazing, I have to tell you. No wait, I can't tell you I have to show you. It's late but I'm going to go right out there and take a picture so you can see.

Awesome, no? As you can see the back rack is made of wood, giving it that old-school surfer look, which is HOT for Tennessee... like it's so hot it makes no sense. Almost as hot as having a Navy Base here. I would like to give a huge shout-out and thanks to the guys at Peddler Bike Shop on Highland, near The University. They answered my questions about the rack quickly and professionally and then GAVE me the parts I needed to get the rack attached to my bike. GAVE! I will be going back there for all my bike needs, and if you're close enough I would like you to as well ;D They are awesome!

I would also like to point out my new orange helmet, which matches pretty close to the color of the bike. Man I like orange. (New helmet? - Please see older posts regarding contaminated poison oak helmet strap extravaganza '08) I think it just adds to the hotness.

Now, with all these new improvements and additions, and adding the incredible addict-like urge I have to ride since I've been forced to stay off my bike for the past two weeks, I was EXTREMELY excited to ride today. I was psyched, stoked, and ready.

It is raining for the next three days.


Wednesday, October 1, 2008


Ball of fur in box
Government gives it the drugs
A feline freak out

I went to Psychology class tonight, which has become one of my favorite things to do recently. The teacher is great, as is the material, but what really makes it fun are all the great videos he brings in to class. I have had the opportunity to watch tricks being played on a guy who has had is left/right hemispheres of his brain separated, lab experiements with rats, monkey babies who bond with fake wire-mesh monkey-mothers, and latest and greatest...

... a cat on LSD. If you love cats, then please turn away. I can't be held accountable for your emotional destruction. The cat of course survives, he just gets freaked the fuck out. Enjoy!

PS: Please note the WPAFB tag at the start of the video. Air Force Base? Now that is taxpayer's money put to a use!

UPDATE: While viewing my own video, I found a link to something even better! SPIDERS ON DRUGS! Please enjoy.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Poison Oak

Melting of the face
Terror, unanswered questions
Unfriendly itch-bush

I'm probably going to get the whole story all messed up, so if you want the truth minus the drug influence then go over to MotherHoodwink and read the real scoop.

If this mess doesn't get me posting again, then I don't know what else will.

WARNING: The following may contain descriptive language, but because I like you I am keeping all of the graphic pictures to myself.

I started feeling the effects on Tuesday, just a bit of itching around my chin. I remember going to town in my sleep, scratching it all up. Since it was a normal day of work I did my normal morning routine. I washed my face with cetaphil, shaved with some foamy shaving cream, and then used a splash of Old Spice to give me that "Fresh Pirate" feeling. Burned like a fuck! Looking back I'm retarded. If something burns your face that much and never really has before, then look into it. Seriously, give it some thought.

The day ran it's course with more itching and much more redness. It got so bad that I decided to go to Navy Medical to get things checked out. I figured it had something to do with my bicycle helmet (the itch and redness sat EXACTLY where my helmet's neck strap sits on my face), and sadly I could only think that someone, some sneaky someone, was out to get me and somehow managed to put some sort of itching powder in my helmet. Yes, I did leave the helmet unattended while I was in class for a few hours, but 1) Why the hell would anyone touch MY stuff? I'm not that important and 2) Itching powder? How 7th grade. What else could it have been? I haven't done anything new or anything.

The guys at medical told me that I was having an allergic reaction to my helmet strap. I've had the damn helmet for over 2 years, so that was pretty confusing to me. I asked the P-A who was helping me and he said that the strap could wear over time, causing me to have an allergic reaction to a lower layer of the strap. It's made of nylon and plastic! I asked him if maybe somebody put something on my helmet and he fed my fears by informing me that it was highly plausible. Again, who am I to be targeted by this random act of immature terrorism?

The P-A kindly gave me some prescription ointment and told me to keep using my Benadryl. I went home and started using the meds. At this time my face began to bloat. Not just swell, but bloat, like an old codfish. I looked like a skinny (well skinny-ish) freak in a fat suit. Lots of jokes, lots of fun by all, but seriously started to freak me out. It somehow seemed that every time I put the cream on, my face would burn more, bloat more, itch and pain more. I knew the cream was the culprit, or maybe it was the other cream that I used, or the Benadryl, or the benadryl itch stick that I tried... What was it!!!

I went back to the P-A the next day, who had an unforgettable facial expression when he saw me. It was like defeated confusion all wrapped up in doubtful fear of incompetence. He said he would get the head Doc to look at it as soon as possible. I got the pleasure of answering "Whatja do to your face?!" a whole lot, my new favorite question. The Doc looked at me and asked me all the right questions. He was a man of action, a man of answers. He poked and peered at my puss-drawn face, sliding his finger across my skin, nodding to himself. "Yes, I would call that dissecting cellulitis", "wait, possible... definitely possible dissecting cellulitis." Now to the benefit of all involved, I had already ruled out the obvious and correct diagnosis through the initial questions* that I had answered, and his diagnosis seems as plausible as any I had heard. What the fuck is dissecting cellulitis? I KNEW that it was like some microbe that was about to eat its way to my brain. These were my sad last days on earth. Overwhelming fear. The doc did the right thing, saved my life by sending me to the Hospital.

I checked into the ER that evening. Know what? I think I could have just gone to the ACTUAL hospital and checked in, seeing as nobody from the ER ever got the paperwork that was forwarded from the clinic. Next time? I'm skipping the ER with those medical papers in my hand, right into a comfy room with a sleep-able bed.

In the ER I was given lots of IVs and no answers. It seemed for the next 12 hours that everything was a guessing game, and the only way to guess was to inject my body with some cool new drug. My absolute favorite of the night was something a nurse gave me as she was asking me a few questions. Right as she pushed the hammer down on the seringe, all the hair stood up on my head and my taint exploded with a roaring flame. Shocking, I know. Crazy allergic reaction to some wonky drug and now I was going to have to deal with THIS?! Fuck. I very quietly asked the nurse if this drug might somehow make my scalp tingle. She looked up quickly and was like, "Oh!! I forgot to mention, this stuff has been known to make your hair tingle and in some patients, mainly female, make their bottoms burn. It only lasts for a second and nobody really knows why it happens." Fwew!, and Oh great my bottom reacts to this medicine like a female's bottom. I have chick-taint! How unmanly. "YES" I blurted out at the nurse, "I didn't know how to ask about the bottom-thing, but that's exactly it." "Kinda scary not knowing first."

Burning aside, whatever it was did the trick. I don't know if it was this stuff or the IV of Benadryl, but everything cooled off, stopped itching and seemed to mellow out. I remember this being the turning point where I knew that if anything else they can just keep pumping me full of taint-burn and I would eventually get better. I love modern medicine. At this point I began to relax and was able to enjoy THE DEBATE. I'm so glad I got to see that, GoBama! I also know that by the time the debate was over I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since my loving and worrying and praying and caring, and pretty wife dropped me off with a sammach. HUNGRY. I also knew that the docs wanted to admit me into the hospital for the night and have a Dermatologist see me in the morning. All fine news, nobody knows what actually happened to me yet, no food, comfy room, and dermy in the morning. I do remember getting a snack (turkey sammach, diet sprite and some pretzels). I squeezed out every little bit of mayo and mustard onto that damn sandwich, figuring that every calorie counted at that point. Sprite Zero? Disgusting! Drank every drop and ate ALL the ice. Oh, and I damn near choked on my pretzels. Well, maybe I'm not that dumb(W). Snack totally hit the spot and I was off to sleep. Sleep = contorting into a position that keeps your sticky puss-face off your pillow while keeping your right IV-arm straight and somehow gets you off your aching back (you've been on it for 12 hours).

Alright, the story is getting way out of control, so for the benefit of those who haven't quit reading I'll cut to the chase.

The Dermy took one look at my face and was like, "What have you gotten into? That's pretty bad poison oak." >CLICK< Poison Oak?! How?! I'm very fuzzy on the details, but it was my wife who remembered that we had just taken family photos on Sunday near some lightly wooded area. She hunted through the photos and sure enough, a giant fucking branch of poison oak was basically wrapped around my face. Now, we rode bikes/skateboard to the family-photo-op, so I naturally slapped my helmet on and rode home. I then used that helmet later the next day when I took the kids for a long bike-ride. Then again the next day when I rode to school for the first time (40~ min on the bike and in the helmet). All of which without having washed the fucker. All of which reapplying poison oak oils onto my neck. Suck.

A few fun facts:

- Once you wash poison oak oils off of your skin or clothes, you and your items are no longer contagious. The seeping puss pores are NOT contagious! Dermatologist was very specific about this. He says that once you've broken out, you can have random spots on your body break out as well, thus making one believe that they are re-infecting themselves. Interesting.

- The severity of an allergic reaction to poison ivy, poison oak, or sumac are all directly effected by your susceptibility (duh), the amount of poison that you come into contact with (duh), how often you come into contact (oh crap), and how long it stays on your skin (shit). Dermy also said that it didn't help that the neck strap was rubbing the stuff into my skin, digging it in deep.

- Staph infection + Incredibly stupid allergic overreaction to poison oak is like a slow dance with death.

- *When a medical dude asks you if you have been in the woods or done any lawn work recently. Stop and think. They don't ask questions because it's fun. Eliminating the right answer early on in diagnosis only leads to mass confusion and patient hysteria.


I would like to personally thank the incredible Nursing staff at Baptist Memorial Hospital, who once again have reaffirmed my desire to become a nurse, a true medical professional. They have all been a shining example of the power of professionalism and kindness. To the doctors who gave me all the great drugs and made me feel so much better. To the Dermatologist who was AWESOME and proves why dermatology is such a specialized and important field of study. Thank you all. Thanks to all my friends who gave me phone calls and texts, it was really really nice to have the support. And a very special, gold-plated thank you to my family. My wife who worried herself sick, quietly asking me as she sadly dropped me off at the hospital, "please don't die." and all-the-while keeping the babies from worrying about daddy's crazy boo-boo. Honey, I couldn't ask to have someone better than you at my side. If I didn't know any better, your sheer power of will turned the whole fiasco into nothing more than a case of poison oak. You rock, thank you. Thank you.

Monday, June 30, 2008


our great Nation's song
sung with mediocre flair
takes away, not adds

I played on a job today where someone else sang the National Anthem. Normally I would heave a small sigh of relief, not because I don't want to play, but more because it gives me a chance to really listen, stepping away from the ceremony.  Today the National Anthem was sung by two girls from the local town that we performed at. I have yet to hear a more lyrical, or more embellished piece of performed disrespect in my life. It got me thinking back to all of the different "versions" of the National Anthem that I have heard throughout my life.  I have heard it in an R&B style, a gospel style, blues, rock, and country. Why? Have you ever heard the Canadian, British, Japanese, Spanish, or Chinese National Anthem sung with embellishments or creative interpretation? Maybe this is what our country is based on, but I say there is nothing wrong with honoring tradition and singing/playing our Anthem the way it was written, the way it was intended. British drinking song or no.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Tofu Tally #1

think of pepper spray
straight in the face of a guy
and who would you choose?

I recently closed out my first "Tofu Tally", a small poll on the right-hand side of the blog.  I'm stunned, amazed even, that everyone who voted, voted for our President. Those that voted, did you seriously picture the results in your mind, and could you possibly have more detest for the leader of the free world than for the most well known terrorist in modern times? Sadly, I expected at least one Mickey Mouse, but no. We can all rest soundly at night knowing that 100% of the people who voted wanted to see roast bush.

Thanks for the votes and expect more Tofu Tallies in the near future!!

Friday, May 30, 2008

F'd Up

repeating parrot
mimics the sounds around him

Tara: Why do you have a Memorial Day gig for a retirement home on Thursday? Memorial Day was last week.

Me: They're senior citizens and don't know the difference.

Tara: Are you serious?! Shut the fuck up!

Gavin: Fuck up! Fuck up! Fuck up!

Monday, May 26, 2008


cucumber, onion
a definite work of art
like vegetable porn

So I was out shopping tonight and came across this. Why are people so immature?

Why am I so immature that I laughed for the rest of the shopping trip and right back to my car?

Memorial Day

to all Veterans
ceremony, not enough
to make up for death

I played today at a Veteran's cemetery for a Memorial Day ceremony. I went in to this thinking it was just another day, just another gig. In fact, I even forgot to shave and had to do an emergency scrape in the men's bathroom, something I hate. I knew that there would be speeches, and from experience I knew that we would be outside, standing, in the hot sun. It's sad, but I admit that I was dreading the experience, and now that I think about it, I'm ashamed.

Once out there, we played a few patriotic tunes that were very well appreciated by the audience. It seemed nearly impossible to play in the hot humid atmosphere, the sweat getting in the way of even being able to hold my instrument. As we finished the National Anthem, a military fly-over swept over the audience. Perfect timing. The speakers had spoken about MIA/POWs and what the "missing man" formation means. All of things I knew but had forgotten. Then a woman came to the podium and was introduced as the local representative of the American Gold Star Mothers. This organization is for all mothers of fallen Veterans, all those mothers who gave up their son or daughter in the defense of our country.

I will never remember the words she said or the names of the men she spoke about, but I remember thinking about the mother of my own children, and how she would feel if she lost one of hers to war, to a violent death. It killed me standing there, hearing those stories and shamed me to think of the attitude I had going into the ceremony. I played the last song with everything I had, what little I had to give in honor of those whose mothers wished they could be there to hear. I imagined how little my personal struggle with the heat and humidity meant in comparison with the struggle of those young men and women, and the families they left behind. I don't consider myself a great patriot, and I may not always agree with war, but I can with all I have honor those that lost their lives fighting. To all of those who can't read my words, I thank you for your sacrifice and wish that you had never had to fight.

Thank you, to all Veterans.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Maine Lobster and Chowda

eating fresh lobster
like rich people in a band
chowda was good, too

Only a few days ago, I was in Maine with the band. I have to say that it was a very fun trip, meeting all expectations. It's the opportunities like this that always make me satisfied with my decision to join the band. I'm in the process of trying to earn a nursing degree, and fortunately there will be travel opportunities involved with that career as well, though maybe not as frequent or interesting.

For a band in Memphis to travel to Maine, it was a unique opportunity. I know that I will have little to no chance of getting back up to that area of the United States so I chose to experience a few of the things that the area is known for, namely Maine Lobster and New England Clam Chowder (chowda).

I have to say that the dinner was great, I ate it all up plus some of my friends' appetizers. (Thanks Tones for the glass of wine that went perfect. The golf-dude's wine, I remember). The company was loud, but thats only because we were all so excited to be able to enjoy something so rare. Even so, I'm pretty used to loud, so I opted to go back to my room and chill rather than stay out and drink. I'm not much of a social drinker and wonder at times if the social drinking friends think I'm flipping my nose at their idea of fun. Hope they know that I think they're great fun, but would rather not go out drinking. Anyhow, I had gotten what I came for and know that they all had fun as well. Overall a great trip! If you're ever in New Brunswick and want lobster or chowda (get the seafood chowder!) then try Joshua's, it's yummy and fun.

Things that make me look bad #1

Me: *Buuuuuuurp*

Wife (walking into burp): EEEUCK! Why does your burp smell like shit?!

Me (with a pause for thought): Oh... I farted and burped at the same time, sorry.



clarinet teacher

full of crazy ideas

make the emails stop

I recently took lessons to better myself on clarinet. Yes, I play clarinet. Yes, I care enough about the clarinet to pay a teacher to try and get me better at playing the clarinet. Dorky, I know. Shut up. Anyway, the teacher turned out to be a little kooky. He had helpful things to say, but sort of just said them out of order, like some crazy professor chatty-kathy doll. Every time I went into a lesson I didn't know how he would be, or how he would react to me. I tried being serious, funny, awkward, and confident, but none of those proved to get a good response out of him. I settled on apathy and went on with my life. (You have to know that most of the lesson involved learning the proper attitude I should have about music, not really how to play it).

So, having moved on, I get a tad annoyed with all of his emails that he sends to the clarinet students. Yes I know I could email him to remove me from his mailing list, but considering how difficult it was getting him to put me on, I would rather just read them and marvel at the kookyness. Here is a little taste of the last one!

I will give a hundred dollar bill to any student who gets this music to me,
When I first got this piece of spam I had two thoughts, first was "Hey, he isn't trying to get me to vote for Obama again, cool." and the next was that I might be able to do this and get a hundred bucks! It would be worth it to write out any piece of music for a quick benjamin.

THEN... I clicked the link. Go ahead if you haven't already, click it.

You know when you eat something really tasty and you say "mmm" to yourself without even thinking about it? I said "What the fuck" before I even knew I wanted to give a WTF.

The emails are like a car wreck. I want to avoid them but I can't help but stare.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Integration, Baby!

the old becomes new
lots of stories, some unseen
go ahead and read

I have managed to pull all of my old posts out of my MySpace Blog and into this one. Please check them out, my favorite being the story about being sprayed in the face with pepper spray :D One of those things you can laugh at when its happening to somebody else. Enjoy.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Claps or Steaks

the first of many
writing relaxes the soul
like many rain drops

I have been meaning to create a blog for a long time now and have met the challenge with mixed results ranging from procrastination to blogs that have been abandoned just after their creating. I feel pretty sad for these blogs-that-never-were and hope that this one goes on to live a long a fruitful life. My wife came up with a pretty neat name for the blog, so I'll go with it :D

Today was great, I mean really great. After spending the morning with my kids, I left for a gig in Marriana, AR. Oh wait, you didn't know that I am in a band. Well, now you do :D  Anyhow, you have to know that the population of Marriana is like 50 and they were mostly all there to watch us. It kills me to work up a show and play my heart out to a crowd that sort of stands there with a blank look on their face.  Next time you go to some kind of concert... clap. If not for the performer, then just for common decency. Non-clappers should all be shipped off to Antarctica where there isn't shit to clap for anyhow.

Well, funny story about the gig. One of the big-wigs in charge of the band was talking with one of the wigs who set up the show we were playing at, asking where the last place was we performed.  He told her and mentioned that one of the bandsmen had eaten a whole lot while we were there. She asked him what he ate and he replied telling her that the venue had provided us with steaks.  It was very true, they fed us steaks, good steaks.  She sort of looked at him sadly and said, "All we have is sandwiches for you, maybe next time we'll have steaks!"

Either clap or give us steaks, we'll take either >:0

Friday, April 25, 2008

Oh My God It BURNS!!

stinging of the eyes
brutal, everlasting pain
smashed sand in the eyes

I won the Darwin Award today.

At the base where I am stationed we have something lovingly referred to as "ASF" or "Auxiliary Security Force". This unique program allows all sorts of people to be trained as security guards for the base. Trained is the weakest and most polite word I can use to describe what happened to me today.

If you are wondering, the Darwin Award is given to those members of a population of living beings that fail to meet basic survival requirements, and through sheer acts of stupidity, manage to make themselves extinct (thus evolution. thus Darwin). I volunteered for this program, keep this in mind as I describe today's events.

It began with a written test, something I was completely unprepared for, taking only a courtesy glance at the study material ten minutes before it started. Whatever, it was all pretty much common sense. Don't shoot yourself with your gun. Maybe a jaywalker shouldn't be clubbed with your baton. Self Defense actually means defending yourself. I pass the test, no sweat. What do I win for completing such an arduous assignment?

** Phase 1 OC Spray Confidence Course ***

OOOooo Sounds exciting. Lets play. First a definition:

Pepper spray is a non-lethal chemical agent which is used in riot control and personal self-defense. The active ingredient in pepper spray is capsaicin, which is a chemical derived from cayenne, paprika, or chilies. Pepper spray is also known as OC spray (from "Oleoresin Capsicum") or OC gas. The excessive use of pepper spray has been linked to lasting injuries and fatalities. See also tear gas, chemical weapon.

The scoville rating for pepper spray can be as high as 5,300,000 for police grade and much lower for civilian grade.
We used police grade of course.

I stand three feet from a man I will forever remember and secretly resent. He asks, "Are you ready?" I reply with, "Yes", just as I notice the base photographer getting herself into a prime spot for the photo op. Her camera was the last thing I saw for the next forty minutes.

The spray came fast and strong, a surprise even though I knew I was ready. The bastard hit me with a stream across the eyes and then decided that he missed, giving me another burst straight in the middle of my face. I open my eyes and shout how many fingers the sprayer is holding up (a deceptively sinister part of this entire test, meant only to force you to open your damn eyes) then *> BAM <* my eyelids SLAM shut and remain uncontrollably closed in pure agonizing pain. I'm not saying that I couldn't open them because it just hurt too bad, my eyelids were as good as fuzed together, and impossibly they would not comply with my commands to open them. Opening my eyes would have been very helpful, as the next station had me "running" (more like prancing like a six-year old girl who thinks boogers are gross and just found one on the back of her hand) up to an "assailant" and putting him in a MACH 2 takedown (a stupidly intricate take down maneuver that requires complete cooperation from the bad guy for it to really work.) How did you see him? Impossible, your eyes at this point are useless. I used the sound of his voice and commands to get right up on him, grabbed what I hoped was his arm and carelessly slammed him into the ground, shouting "GET DOWN" like it was all HIS fault I was in this idiot of a predicament. 

Station Two rewarded me with my weapon, Excalibur! This small foam baton is used as a training device to mimic a police baton. It was all I needed to enact my enraged revenge. This little stick of foam would be my key to freedom and my newest best friend. I use excalibur to beat the crap out of my next invisible enemy, still unable to open my eyes I used his screams as a compass, my map to my salvation. Are these the roots of police brutality? 

I stumbled to Station Three and found myself completely at a loss as to what I should be doing. Nobody was shouting commands and I couldn't remember ANYTHING about what I was supposed to be doing, only the fire from my eyeballs remained in my mind. I stood there listening to the faint cheers and jeers from my friends waiting their turn, waiting for some sort of audible cue as to what I was supposed to be doing and where I was supposed to be doing it. Then it came, a tap from the back from an officer holding a practice pad. I laid into the sonvabitch like he had stole my lunch money. THEN. A tap from the front, they were trying to tag team my ass! Then I remember, front strike, rear jab. I became an animal, throwing everything I had against my two assailants. I soon heard the instruction to move on. 

Station Four had me in front of our instructor, a retired Gunny. "High Block!" he yelled and I blindly threw up my baton just in time to meet the attack. "Low Block!" "Strong-side Block!" "Weak-side Block!" all of met with sightless precision. "Go!" he said and I painfully ran in a random direction. 

"Wrong Way!" Ooops, I turned around and ran, managing to blink my eyes open just enough to see the man wearing the padded gear or "Red Man Suit" as it is called. He grabs my weapon, my only link to self defense. I rip it from his grasp with a stunning "Flying C" (Don't judge, I made up the name of that move, but I think it sounds better than "Make a C to disengage the attacker") I then beat the crap out of him with Excalibur, shouting "Get Down!" "Get Down!" The assailant gets on the ground and I sort of forget to stop hitting him. "Stop hitting him!" the instructor shouts, and I give him the rest of the commands, "Face away from my voice", "Put your hands out", "Palms up!", "Cross your legs!" "Bring your feet up to your butt". Problem is the pain was so great, all of this came out more like, "Get down! Face Away! Put your hands up! Palms! Cross your butt!!!!" I managed to scream "butt" the very loudest and in a moment of perplexing clarity found this strange and funny. The test was over. I won. I remember spending the next 35 minutes drowning myself on the end of a garden hose, doing everything I could to get my eyes to open. This will forever be the most painful thing I have had to endure, all for the sake of the spirit of volunteerism. What was that Navy stands for? Never Again Volunteer Yourself? Maybe I should at least proceed with caution before throwing my hand up in the air. 

***Update: It's been over 12 hours since I got nuked and it still hurts like a sunburn and cutting onions*** 

Moral: If ever staring down the bottle of a small red canister, RUN. Don't think, just run. 

***Update: I just posted the video of the encounter. Check it out!***

OC Spray

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Magic 8-Bible

an old crazy coot?
a mystical book of truth?
shake it and find out

My grandmother once told me that any question you had in life could be answered by the bible. At first I took this as metaphoric, knowing that people find hope and answers to life's many philosophical questions about faith and all-the-such. Her statement was fine enough for other people, and since I didn't really have those deep thoughts at the time, never really effected me.

Then, out of the blue, she told me mysteriously of how the bible works in ways we could never hope to figure out, and that if we really have a problem or question in our life, then we could just turn to the bible for answers. Fed up with her mysticism, I asked her to explain further. She did. Apparently you can flip randomly through a bible and find an appropriate answer to your question.

I find this fucking absurd.

NOTE, I do believe that the bible IS important and provides great stories and guidance for the faith-hungry part of us all, but to use it as a Magic 8-Ball in times of personal confusion? Ridiculous.

Here I would like to try it out, give it a true test of it's ability to answer my every question. I challenge you to do the same, it might just be fun. I will ask a random question and flip randomly through the bible and provide you with a random biblical answer. Please post YOUR finding :D

Question: I have a hard time waking up early to go work out. Please help me, oh bible, to find a way to work out more!

Ok... Moment of Truth...

Answer: AGAINST Moab thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel; Woe unto Nebo! for it is spoiled: Kirithaim is confounded and taken: Misgab is confounded and dismayed. - Jeremiah 48:1

Sorry, Grandma. I don't think it works like this. Unless by Moab the bible means obesity, and by Nebo the bible means laziness. Maybe Kirithaim means Gatoraid, and Misgab is more like my PT Coordinator...

Either I'm missing grandma's point or the metaphors are just too deep.

Post yours! :D

Friday, February 1, 2008

My First Album!

a really cool trick
go and try it for yourself
you will be amazed

I know everyone wants to know what their first album cover will look like, Please follow these simple instructions I found on
Kerry's Blog :D

STEP 1 The first article title is the name of your band.

STEP 2 The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

STEP 3 The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

OK! Now here is my first album cover!

Purple rumped sunbird on Flickr - Photo Sharing!
Uploaded with plasq's Skitch!

Here is Tara's first album cover!! :D

Uploaded with plasq's Skitch!

What is yours?

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Tofu's Crazy Discovery #001

not best idea
interesting thing to do
could I have been drunk?

Alright. Try this at home.

What you need:
1x mini Milky Way Midnight candy bar
1x Syfo brand Wild Cherry Sparkling Water

Eat the candy bar, drink some of the wild cherry sparkling water.

I KID YOU NOT. It will taste like Irish Cream. Doubt me? Try it.