Random Pics 3-13-10

Some pics in commemoration of the first week of Finer Things Friday (which is a lunch group my friends and I plan on having every week at a culturally rich location) that was held at the Museum of Art at BYU and a couple from my time in Brazil which was referenced in my last blog.

Here we have a state of the art power outlet... very artsy!

Me and my Chevy. Yeah, that's a Chevy hood ornament.

I don't really have much to add to this picture other than mention that there was a mural on the wall of the bar that was pretty funny.

Artur (The Bookstore)

Anyone who knows me, knows that I LOVE fiction books. I have traditionally claimed The Hobbit as being my favorite book; however, it is probably more accurate to say that the Ender’s Game series has now become my favorite set of books. I get so into them that I finished three of those books during last Fall’s finals week at school and finished a fourth over Christmas break.

This week I finished the first of the Halo books. No, I’ve never really played the game much, but I love stories like that and I thought I’d give it a shot. I loved it. There are two other books in the series I’m anxious to read, but BYU’s bookstore conveniently doesn’t carry the next two books! Who does that? That’s like a crack dealer that only sells to you once! Anyway, it’s not that important.

One series I always wanted to read was the Chronicles of Narnia series. That’s what this blog is about. It also involves my old Brazilian roommate Artur. I was reminded of the story this evening as I was with my friend Jesse and we were relating some of the ludicrous stories we have involving Artur. Just for the record, though this and any following Artur chronicles feature a crazy Brazilian, let it be known that I love Brazilians in general, lived in Brazil for two years as an LDS missionary, made great friends there, and I have been fan of their national team for about 15 years. But I digress…

One afternoon, my old roommate and great friend Jesse and I were in our room after school. Jesse was probably studying in his bed and I was most likely playing NBA Live ’99 for N64 on my computer’s emulator while listening to Jock Jams as I usually did. That’s when, also as usual, our beloved roommate Artur entered the room swiftly and quietly without necessarily being invited in. He had been roaming the streets of Provo that afternoon, yet again as usual.

He started to tell us of his exploits as we tried our best to ignore him and make him feel as unwanted as his presence in our room was. Then, he said some something that caught my ear. Artur had been to a used bookstore on Center St. of Provo and purchased a collection of the Narnia books for about $5 or $6! As I said before, I had been interested in reading them and this sounded like a sweet deal to me.

Jesse recognized my excitement and interest and offered to give me a ride to the bookstore so I could purchase my own copy. Artur said he would come along and show us where he got it. I was incredible excited for the Narnia books and whatever other treasures the store might hold in store. I was practically bouncing up and down in the car and babbling on incoherently about books I had recently finished.

When we got to the store, I sprinted inside and began searching for the book I desired. I found what seemed to be the right shelf and searched it extensively. I found Lord of the Rings (which I already had), books by Orson Scott Card, and single Narnia series books. I couldn’t find the one I wanted though! T

That is when Artur strolled up behind me, after what seemed like an eternity of searching by myself for the book I wanted, to show me where he found it just an hour before. He walked right up to me, pointed to shelf on the stand I was looking at, and said in his accented English, “Dis is where I godit, it was di last one!”

… There was an awkward silence. Jesse and I looked at each other in shock, but not disbelief… well, we couldn’t believe that it happened, but we believed that if a situation like this were to happen, Artur would be responsible for it. One of us began to ask, “Wait, if you got the last one… why wouldn’t you say…” whoever, it was that started to ask that realized how pointless the question was. There wasn’t a good answer for that question. We stared at each other and tried to contain our laughter. I knew it was too good to be true.

We tried to salvage our trip by looking at the other books, but nothing caught our eyes. We settled on making fun of obscure sci-fi book titles and plot lines… which is always fun… but not as fun as reading the back of romance novels. To this day, I’ve never read the Chronicles of Narnia series. I almost feel like it wasn’t meant to be. I did get a fun story out of that experience though!

Random Pics 3-11-10

The first in a series of posts with random pics I've taken.

Yes, that is a Joseph Smith Sphinx. Only in Utah!

Better watch your kids at this restaurant!

No Walking on Water?

The Cougareat Adventures (Teriyaki Stix)

This has been an extremely sad week for me. My life changed forever on Monday around 11:00 am. I approached the counter of the restaurant Teriyaki Stix in the Cougareat only to find that they had changed their menu and no longer offered the meal that I have been eating everyday for the past few months. They no longer offer “Noodles.” Noticing the item’s absence on the new menu, I asked the cashier to confirm my greatest fear. She did so and I began to walk away defeated. That’s when a large man, who appeared to be a manager at Cougareat, who just got done ordering in front of me said, “But they have noodles. They have Chow Mein now!” It was a slap to the face! Baffled, I starred right back at him with what have must been the most disgusted look and said, “But they don’t have ‘noodles’ anymore!” All physical evidence pointed that this man knew his food, but apparently not. For the record, chow mein and the normal noodles formally offered at the food chain are VASTLY different!

Anyway, this is just one of the few marking experiences I’ve had with relation to Teriyaki Stix and it reminds me of an interesting series of events that occurred there about 2 years ago…

I wasn’t accustomed to eating at the restaurant, but for some reason I was craving Orange Chicken that day. I got in line and waited my turn. I had no idea the mystery that would unfold before me because of my decision to dine there that day. When I received my order, I noticed that the bottom of my bowl had a strange surface. It felt grainy. When I got back to my table with my friends, I looked under the bowl and found a small note: Have a great day ;)

I wasn’t sure how to feel about it at first. I guess I thought it was cool since it was the only thing other than the vending machine that I purchased Mike n’ Ikes from that told me to have a great day. So, I discarded the note and forgot about the incident until the next day.

I guess I liked the Orange Chicken because I found myself going back for more the same day. Things were pretty much the same as I ordered except the cashier seemed especially chipper and said that I could get free veggies on top if I so desired. I so desired. When I received my meal, I discovered an amazing piece of art. The cook had placed the veggies into a smiley face on top of my food. It was pretty cool!

I looked around to see if he did the same to the other orders before and after me. The cook hadn’t. That was strange to me. I got lucky I guess. I showed my friends back at my table and we started talking about it. Somehow, we came to a comical conclusion that the cook liked me since they gave me a note the day before and arranged my veggies in a special way that day. We laughed and I decided I would get my lunch there the next day to see if the cook was cute and maybe I’d slip her a note too.

The next day came and I returned and ordered the usual. At first, I forgot to check to see if the cook was cute. Then I felt a note under my bowl again and peered through the window to the back to see who this admirer was. I met a pair of eyes. Eyes that were bushy. Eyes with very defined bones outlining them. These eyes were man eyes! It was a dude! All the cooks were dudes!

I frantically looked around to see if others received such notes with their meals. They didn’t. I had been singled out… by a man… a man who liked to single out other men! I briskly returned to my seat and related my horrifying findings to my friends. They all laughed at my plight. But I was determined to set things straight… well, not necessarily the guy, but the situation.

However, when I returned to Teriyaki Stix the next day, the cook was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was his day off, I thought. But, after that day, I never saw him again. To this day, my friends and I joke about this situation and say he got fired for flirting with his male coworkers. But, the mystery of the Teriyaki Stix cook will forever go unsolved.

Embarrassing Story (Vomit Van)

The other night, my friends and I were at a birthday party and we they asked the birthday boy to tell an experience from every year of his life. For various reasons, we all began to take turns telling all kinds of stories. They also seemed to get progressively more disgusting and one involved vomit. That reminded me of the story I usually share when asked what was my most embarrassing experience I’ve ever had is. This particular event happened on a sunny summer morning…

I was accustomed to play basketball every Monday morning with the missionaries in my town from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and other members of my church. For whatever reason, basketball was canceled that day so I decided to drive into Hershey to go for a run at Shank Park. After my run, I started feeling kind of sick. I thought nothing of it and started driving on the back roads home. That’s when it hit me!

I felt the sudden urge to purge and realized I didn’t have much time to act. There was nowhere to pull over my mini-van. I started lowering my automatic windows and slowing down, hoping no one was behind me. The window seemed to take an eternity to roll down! Once it was low enough to stick my head out, I let loose what so desperately wanted out of my stomach. I got lucky, in a way. Only a little vomit got on my shoulder because of the wind. I was unlucky in that the rest successfully created a Jackson Pollock-like masterpiece on the side of my van. I felt horrible, but well enough to drive home. I decided I’d just have to wash it when I got back to my place.

Once I got inside, I saw there was a message on our answering machine and checked it. It was the missionaries or Elder’s as we call them by their title. Apparently, whatever impeded basketball from happening no longer did so. They wanted to see if I could get a hold of everyone to get a game on in Hershey. I was super excited! So excited in fact that I somehow managed to forget how sick I had felt and that there was vomit all over the side of my van… my vomit van. I made the calls and the game was on!

I realized about halfway into Hershey that I forgot to wash my car and that it probably looked awful, but I thought, who cares? I’ll just head home afterwards and take care of it. I was wrong.

As soon as I got to the gym, a member of my church came up to me and asked if he could get a ride to a car shop to pick up his vehicle which had just been serviced. I couldn’t say no. I just pointed out my van to him and explained the incident and apologized for the retched smell that would no doubt accompany us on the trip. It was a long trip or at least felt like it took forever.

We returned and played ball. I got sick again, go figure. I was so ready to go home afterwards. When the game ended, however, it was clear that my embarrassment was far from over. One of my friends, a missionary, came up and asked, “Hey Dan, you remember how some Elders were going to move into Palmyra today and you said you could help out and let us use your van?” I did remember. So, I went about explaining my car situation to the missionaries and began the trip to Palmyra.

It was awful. I felt awful in multiple ways. There were also an older couple of missionaries there that was helping us that were there to supervise everything. They were fairly important people and assisted the Mission President with a lot of things. They were very appreciative of my help and walked us out to our rides. Then they asked, “Which car is yours?” Already exhausted of explaining I replied, with a smile on my face, something to the effect of, “Oh, the puke covered one over there!” It was certainly a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day if I’ve ever had one.

The Cougareat Adventures (TASG)

If you want to see some very unique characters, the Cougareat at BYU is a good place to find them. This will be the first of a series of posts about strange characters or things that have happened while in the Cougareat. I was inspired to start this series today because of a couple people I saw today while lunching. First, there was a kid wearing jeans that still had the sticker showing the size on the back of the one leg who was walking around. Then, I overheard some super nerds behind me talking about their World of Warcraft characters and commenting how their Warlocks were master jewel crafters. After that there was an assortment of people my friend Jesse and I saw and immediately nicknamed such as skipping girl, poncho, and (of course referring to the old beer commercials) Twins! But none of these unique people had anything on one particular girl I met one fateful day a couple years ago…

It was a long day for me. I spent most of it in the library, most likely studying accounting. So, I decided to take a break and grab dinner in the Cougareat on campus. The place was empty and I sat at a table by myself and began to enjoy a peaceful meal. That’s when she swooped in! It was obvious she was looking for company since every other table was empty in the place. When she asked if she could join me, I couldn’t refuse. It would be rude. So she sat right next to me at my open table. I knew that she was going to be trouble. If I would have found her attractive it would be every guy’s dream come true. But this was not the case! If you haven’t noticed, I have avoided using her name thus far and I will continue to do so until the very end of this story.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence (what would be a common occurrence in the conversation that would follow) until I decided I should be polite and introduce myself. Her eyes widened and she seemed to have gotten what she wanted, recognition. She then introduced herself and began to divulge an obviously rehearsed spiel about how she came to be at BYU. She also made it very obvious that she was at the university for one thing and one thing only: to find herself a man and get married! I would say that that is when I knew I was in trouble, but I had already come to that realization.

Somehow, the conversation continued on the topic of dating and began to take a turn for the extremely awkward side as she began to discuss dating habits of BYU. She cautioned about how couples needed to be careful when they were all alone……. at night……… (and I’m adding the ellipses in an attempt to imitate the real life pause between words or ideas she used and imply awkward silence)………..and things happen…………………….and then they’d have to go and talk to their bishop…

What followed was the most awkward silence of my life where I vividly remember looking around to see if anyone else was seeing what was going on, but alas, I was alone.

…………… “I’m Talkin’ About SEX!”

Well, there it was. If there had been any doubt in mind with respect to the subject matter of her discourse or to her craziness, it was resolved with those four words. I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation. I just remember thinking if I was on candid camera, trying to finish my food asap, and hearing something about how she felt sorry for Brittany Spears and her sister.

It was possibly the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had an has become a favorite funny memory of mine. Her name you ask? Isn’t it obvious by the title of the post or by her most memorable quote? Talkin’ About Sex Girl! Some friends doubted my story, but there have been many sightings of TASG since this incident by myself and others. Beware, she is still out there and, if you ever find yourself dining alone on a still night in the Cougareat, watch your back. You may just become the next victim of TASG!

Try Something New (Tandem Bikes)

Last night, I was playing that game with my friends where you have 10 fingers up and each person takes a turn saying something they have never done in their life. If you have done what someone says, than you have to put a finger down. The last person with a finger or more up wins. I guess it’s a game that rewards the biggest loser for leading an uneventful life. One of the things I said that I had never done was a ride a bike by myself. It needed some explaining because I have been on a 30 mile bike ride, but I don’t know how to ride a bike. So how was it that I went on a 30 mile bike ride without knowing how to ride a bike? Well I’ll tell you…

This summer I lived with my dad in Salt Lake City, but I would come visit my friends in Provo almost every weekend to have some fun. On a particular Saturday afternoon, my friend Matt told me about a church activity his congregation would have in which they would all bike about 15 miles up into a canyon and would have dinner there. He then explained that he was thinking about driving up to the park they would eat in and just meeting everyone there. I was cool with that.

Later on, two girls in the apartment complex expressed their desire to rent two tandem bikes and bike with us up the canyon. I was still unsure I wanted to do this, but it seemed like Matt really wanted to do it. I thought it couldn’t hurt to try something new, so I reluctantly agreed.

The next challenge was renting the bikes. There happened to be a house across the street that rented out tandem bikes. We tried knocking on the door at different times of the time, calling their number, and talking to their neighbors to see where the owners were and if we could rent the bikes that were so very lonely in the front ward. To make a long story short, we never got a hold of the owners, stole the bikes, and left our contact information on their door.

If that wasn’t bad enough, it then became apparent that the two girls wanted to bike together and not go boy-girl-boy-girl. So we had just stolen two tandem bikes on which my friend Matt and I would have to ride together on one of them. Luckily, Matt was an excellent biker and I could sit in the back and just help peddle. It was then that we also realized that the bike had no gears or brakes… potentially vital to biking through the mountains of Utah.

We all gathered outside the apartment complex and many members of his congregation thought our situation rather humorous. When we started on the streets, things were easy enough. We just got a few funny looks and honks from passing cars. Everything was fine. That’s when we encountered our first 30 degree incline and struggled up it and it hit us just how hard the mountains would be.

To shorten the story, the trip was filled with many steep hills in which we could barely make it up. The trip took about an hour or more. We received many puzzled glances from those we passed, ringing our 50’s style bike bell as we passed. I thought I would die by the time we got to the top. I’m happy to say, however, that we were the third bike to make it to the park, even without gears! At the park, we pigged out. Then we knew we had to start our return journey because it looked like it was going to start raining.

The way home was pure chaos. We were just two guys flying down a steep mountain with no brakes on a tandem bike almost hitting a million people on the path and ringing the little bell as a warning to everyone. We almost hit a family on a narrow part of the path. Yelling at them the whole way down the hill, we saw their faces of distress slowly turn to smiles as they realized what was going on. A group of bikers gave us a hard time for a bit too. Then, in order to avoid someone on the path, Matt steered to the side and I hit my foot on the rock wall that lined the path. It took about a half an hour to get back!

When we got home, we returned the bike and all was well even though we stole them. All in all it was a very unique experience and I’m glad I did it. It’s always fun to try new things and you never know what can happen or what stories you’ll be able to tell.

I got Jordan upstairs... (Wrong Number Calls)

This past Sunday I had to organize a council meeting for my calling in church. This meant getting the names and numbers of those making up our committee and contacting them. After sending out a mass text and hearing back from only a few of those to whom I had sent it, I began making calls to those who hadn’t responded. I had actually sent a few mass texts to these people and wondered why they might not be responding. That’s when I tried to call my friend Art only to discover that the number I had for him was wrong and that the guy on the other end of the phone already understood the mix up and informed me that the number for my friend was incorrect in our ward’s directory. I felt horrible and hoped I didn’t wake him. This incident caused me to reflect on all the times I had received calls from people who had the wrong number, oft times early in the morning. So here are a couple of my favorite wrong number calls I have received…

The first is a classic. Have you ever received a call from someone and missed it and then, when you return the call to see who it was, they deny that they ever called you? That happened to me and worse. Most wrong number calls I get are from Pennsylvania even though I live in Utah now. I got a call when I was in church one day and I planned on returning it as soon as our meeting was over. I came out of my meeting spiritually charged and ready to implement world peace. I dialed the number. The person who attended the phone was anything but friendly. With questions like, “How did you get this number?” and “Why are you calling us?” spoken in a deep and threatening voice, I was taken back. Then, they strongly urged me to never call them back or else and hung up. Needless to say, that killed my spiritual high.

Another time, I found myself in the middle of a crisis I couldn’t resolve. A young mother called me in tears under the impression that mine was the number to a local hospital. I informed her that she had the wrong number, but she began to unfold her life story and implore my aid. Apparently her young daughter had cancer and she was trying to get a hold of a cancer center so that she could begin her treatment. The woman asked repetitively if I knew of a good hospital or had a care center’s number. I felt terrible even though I had no reason to of held such information. I left that phone call depressed and offered a few prayers for that family.

Though I have received countless phone calls early in the morning from people in Pennsylvania, because of the two hour time difference, there is one that has become my absolute favorite wrong number call that I have received in such a manner. It was around 6:30 am on a school day when I began to hear my ringtone go off as I was in the middle of a pleasant dream. My fuzzy eyes looked to see who it could be calling this early, hoping a friend didn’t have a dire emergency. To my surprise, it was a friend from back home in PA that I hadn’t talked to in forever. Now, I had recently gone through a few personal crises and wondered if he might be inquiring about them. I will try to recount the experience to the best of my ability:

“Hey dude, what’s up?”

“Are you okay???!!!”

“Uhh… yeah, man, what’s up?”

“What’s going on!?”

“Uh, nothing, why?” (thinking to myself, well I’m not sleeping anymore!)

“WHAT’S GOING ON!?”

“Nothing, dude, why?”

“Nothing?! Well I got Jordan upstairs telling me you just got kicked outta your house!”

My first thoughts after that were: Whose Jordan? What are they doing upstairs? And why did I get kicked out of my house? Apparently my recent drama was more devastating then I realized! But then I started to really wake up and suspect that there was something else wrong. After further conversation, I learned that there was a misunderstanding and that my friend had called the wrong number. So I was safe and Jordan had no say in my affairs. I felt bad for the person my friend had intended on calling and I never learned the identity of this Jordan character, but it was the most interesting wrong number call I have ever received.

The Stinky Underpass (Bad Smells)

The other day I embarked on a dreadful task… doing our dishes. They had formed a small mountain range originating from the middle of the sink and continued along the countertop. As I reached the bottom of the heap, I removed a pan that had been retaining what seemed to be a poisonous gas. The stench overcame me and I barely held on to consciousness. It was the kind of smell that becomes imprinted on your mind, like the smell of your girlfriend’s perfume only on the opposite side of the spectrum of delight. Anyways, this particular smell brought back the painful memories of similar fragrances that I’d had the misfortune of encountering in my life. A particular experience stood out in my mind…

It was a very rainy day back in my middle school years. A friend and I found ourselves staring out the window at the torrential downpour that awaited us on our walk home. We had heard rumors that there had been flooding all along the Susquehanna River. The time was approaching in which we would have to brave this flash flood on our 15-20 minute walk home.

When the bell rang, we grabbed our bags and jackets from our lockers and made our way to the door. After saying a silent prayer and preparing our game plan for getting home in the fastest manner possible, we made a mad dash out of the door. The whole trip was plagued by giant puddles and blinding rain. We made great time by jogging every once in a while and found ourselves at the last part of our journey home: The Stinky Underpass.

The Stinky Underpass was an underpass (and thus appropriately named) that went under the railroad tracks that connected my house to the parking lot of a local supermarket. It received the adjective “stinky” because it is filled with human waste, including trash and the biological variety. The walls are covered in graffiti and the ceiling with cobwebs. It was a popular place for druggies to go because no cop wanted to venture into that smelly abyss.

As my friend and I descended the stairs of the underpass, we realized that we couldn’t see the floor of the tunnel. It was pitch black. Then it hit us, it was flooded! There was about 7 inches of sewer-like water covering the ground of the last bit of our flight home. We knew that going around would take another 6 minutes or so, so we got inventive. Taking a shopping cart from the parking lot, we pushed it down the stairs, hopped in, and used sticks as paddles inside our shopping cart boat. Pushing our way through the damp, stinky tunnel, we felt incredibly proud of ourselves having conquered this obstacle. That’s when something went wrong and we stopped.

We were stuck. We had gotten a wheel caught on… I’d rather not imagine what it could’ve been. We were half way through. There was no going back. We hopped out of the cart and made an awkward, sluggish dash for the other end. We made it out, but we were soaked in sludge. We both made it home safe that day, but the awful smell that stuck to us and those clothes for days after the incident was permanently ingrained into my mind.

Laundry Day (A Very Exciting Day)

Today I have to do my laundry… exciting stuff, right? Well, it’s not anymore now that I have a washer and dryer in my apartment. There was a time; however, that laundry was a very exciting day. That was back when I shared a laundry room with everyone else in my apartment building. Now, it is common knowledge that when doing laundry in public laundry mats that you will lose some article of clothing. Be it a sock, a shirt, etc. it is almost certain that something will be missing when the chore is complete. But what if you had the opposite happen to you? What if you found a little something special for you in every load, like a Cracker Jack box? ...

This laundry lottery effect began about a year ago. I had just gotten home from a long day at school, done my laundry, and I began to put my clean clothes away. I started pairing up socks and noticed that I had an extra one. My first thought was that I had lost one and I started to look around frantically for it. I finally realized that it wasn’t mine. I was confused. You never find anything extra in your laundry. What was I to do with the sock? It was a good sock. I could keep it in case I lost one or found another. But, then again, keeping an item of clothing that has been soaked in the foot sweat of another guy almost made me puke in my mouth. So, I returned it to the laundry room in hopes that the owner would find it and cherish it more this time around. Okay, so that’s the boring part, the best was yet to come.

I didn’t think much about the incident the next week while I retrieved my laundry from the dryer. When I found the next extra sock, I was just as amazed and once again found myself debating if I should keep it and beating myself up for having discarded last week’s sock surprise because I could have made a pair. Ultimately, my better sense made me return it as I had the previous week.

The next week brought a new gift, a foreign t-shirt! That’s when I thought things were getting a little out of hand. I mean, I thought I looked in the machines before I put stuff in them. A sock is an easy miss, but a shirt?! How’d I miss that? The coming week I’d be ready! But nothing could have prepared me for the coming weeks!

I was super cautious when investigating the machines. I wasn’t going to get any surprises that day. When finished, I dumped the last load of laundry on my bed to fold my clothes and put everything away. When the pile was almost gone, I noticed something strange… something shiny… something silky, something lacey….. something that resembled girl’s panties!!! But, not resembling, they were girl’s panties! I had to get rid of them! But, I didn’t want to pick them up! They were a girl’s undergarment and had been to places a more taboo than a boy’s sock! What if a roommate saw me with them? What if someone saw me returning them??? Anyway, I returned them and became more paranoid than ever.

The paranoia didn’t help though as, in the next two of three weeks, the incident repeated itself. It became a joke! I soon became a lot more comfortable with the fact that I would find women’s underwear in my laundry, of all kinds, in fact. I even debated if I should start a collection. It was a quick debate in the negative favor. But ever since then, laundry day became like a holiday amongst my friends. Everyone knew I would find something special each week. We soon began to guess. Girls would joke and say they would leave something for me. Those were the days… the most exciting laundry days of my life.

Oh Billy (New Roommates)

Many of you know that my former roommate, Matt, has left me to spend this coming semester in Canada so that he can be closer to his fiancée Emma. That means I’ll be getting a new roommate, Peter. While the prospects of many new adventures and funny stories are certain, this has caused me to reflect on experiences I’ve had with past roommates that have enriched my life…

Exactly two years ago this semester, I moved into The Lodges at Glenwood here in Provo. I already knew the semester and my roommates would be interesting since the window had the words Animal House painted on the living room window. Then I met my new roommates. They were all really cool and we were all very different. Most different than all was Billy. Billy was a lacrosse player for BYU and it seemed, at least to me, that he may have been beaten in the head one too many times with a lacrosse stick. Though there are many memories I’d like to share about my friend Billy, I think I’d like to share my personal favorite first.

It was a pleasant afternoon and I found myself engaged in an engaging conversation with my other roommate, Winston, in my room. All was fine and calm until… “OH SHIZ!” Only the word we heard wasn’t shiz. The origin of the profanity: Billy, from the bathroom. Winston and I glanced at each, both in shock and confusion. After a brief pause, Winston inquired what had happened. Billy replied that he dropped the roll of toilet paper into the toilet while wiping. Again, there was a moment of awkward silence until Winston once again asked how that was possible. You see, the roll was new and should have been sufficiently wide enough to not have fallen in if you were still seated upon the throne… not that that is a common occurrence. That’s when Billy gave the only plausible response there could be, “I had to stretch!”

After a short laugh of disgust, confusion, and amazement I told Billy that would place a plastic bag outside the bathroom so that he could place the soiled roll of TP into the bag and run it to the dump outside as soon as he was finished. We thought the incident was over. That’s when, after about five more minutes, Billy exited the bathroom bagless and proceeded to the living room without washing his hands. More baffled and disgusted than ever, I asked where the roll of TP was. Billy then gave another logical answer, “I put it on the shelf to dry off.” Sure enough, there was a roll of soiled TP on the shelf of the restroom drying off. Needless to say, Winston and I reprimanded our friend Billy and the situation was resolved.

So, with this new semester approaching and new roommates to meet, I hope we all get a new Billy in our lives that can shift our paradigms just a little bit and provide us with the kind of stories we will remember for years to come.

The Gun Guy (The Value of Sleep)

I really value sleep like most people. I hate when people call me before 8 a.m. without good reason, when people are blasting music really late at night, and when people are fighting and threatening to shoot each other when I'm trying to sleep...

I remember being in a deep sleep one night back when I was in high school and living in Middletown. The next words I remember were "PUT THE GUN DOWN!!!!!" At first, I thought it was all apart of my dream. Then, I realized that there was a mob right out in front of our house yelling at each other. I was so tired! It must have been going on right in the middle of my R.E.M. cycle or something. The shouting continued and I couldn't really make out what the group was arguing about. I just remember trying to go back to sleep for what seemed an eternity. "PUT IT AWAY, MAN, PUT THE GUN AWAY!!!" I'm sure there where many explicit words used in between as well and I shouldn't be directly quoted on that. It kept going on and I kept getting more and more aggravated. "PUT IT DOWN!!!" That was it, I couldn't take it anymore. I had lost my patience. I found myself shouting out, "JUST PUT IT AWAY OR SHOOT HIM NOW! I want to sleep!"

I don't think they heard me even though my window was open. I know it wasn't the most sensitive thing to think or say, but I meant it! Sleep is a sacred thing that not even a gun fight should disturb. The man I call The Gun Guy was arrested and put in jail for a couple years. He is now the proud father of a little boy with a mohawk.

A little bit about me... yes, i know there's a personal bio section

My name is Dan Klinger and I, like everyone else, have stories to tell. A while ago, a buddy and I were going to make a blog in which we would post all of the funny things that happened to us during daily life. We were roommates, close friends, and did everything together. But, in attempt to avoid any further appearance of homosexuality, we passed on that idea and now have separate blogs.

I am from Middletown, PA originally. Unfortunately, no one really knew where Middletown was when I would explain where I was from, so I have always claimed Hershey, PA as my hometown. This wasn't much of a stretch since my dad worked in Hershey, I went to church with people from Hershey, I worked at the amusement park there and also the chocolate factory, and generally spent a lot of time there. More recently, Middletown has regained some of it's fame as it's nuclear power plant was featured in the movie Wolverine. T.M.I., Three Mile Island, was the local of the final fight between Wolverine, Sabertooth, and DeadPool. It is also famous for it's near-nuclear meltdown in 1979.

My home is located in a classy part of town. I grew up with railroad tracks on one side of my house, low-income housing and wanna-be gangsters up the street, the Susquehanna River and the red-neck population to the other side, and a strip club behind our house. I kinda miss my home. The kids with shirts that go down to their knees, where the tops of their jeans were, reciting rap lyrics as they walked alone on the sidewalk. I kinda miss the crazy people in my town: No Neck, The Gun Guy, and the three schizophrenics that would roam around the town. I kinda miss playing tag with my friends around and in the lounge of the strip club (named The Pink Pussycat, then The Pink Pussycat II, and finally Hanger 69) until it burned down in my late childhood.

Speaking of friends, I had an interesting group of friends growing up. My first best friend I've ever had was an interesting kid. He liked the WWF and always wanted to practice moves on me. That's actually how we ended up not being friends anymore. I was kinda mad at him because he tried to show me some SI swimsuit edition and then started trying to do a wrestling move on me. I kinda lost it, reversed the move and hit him hard. He then proceeded to chase me down the street with a bat. I found out that a couple years ago that he escaped out of the bathroom window of a court hearing he had for breaking a restraining order on him from his ex-girlfriend.

Anyway, i hope that gives a bit of a background for who I am and where i come from. I had a very interesting childhood and I could look forward to meeting even more interesting characters as my life went on.