Thanksgiving Review

       Thanksgiving was perfect (or at least it would have been perfect if I didn't have to work so hard to ignore my calculus take-home-exam). The food was ideal as was expected but I guess we thought we weren't thankful enough because when I went down to visit some friends the next day we did it all over again. We even tried to do the black Friday thing at Best Buy and just ended up having some fried 16 year old employee sell us the wrong computer. Couldn't blame the kid, after all I know what its like to try to provide excellent customer service without sleep.

         The next day we had to visit a place in search of some candy my Dad remembered from his youth and this is where we ended up. Jolley's Corner Pharmacy looked more like a shop you would find in Diagon Ally than a drug store. We had plenty of time to explore it's endless handmade crafts and 40's style children's games but it only took about 30 seconds for me to find something I couldn't leave the store without.
The Pocket Guide to Mischief by Bart King. The book itself proved to be quite mischievous when I went to pull it off the shelf and it tried to knock some of the other books on to the floor. Not to mention it is just small enough to make you want to try to fit it in your pocket but just big enough for you to fail in your pursuit. After a short flip through it was apparent that purchasing it was inescapable. I'm willing to share anything I learn with you guys.


         The next adventure was to help Ethan with his "ring shopping" and admire a loft space specially made so that while parents thumbed through merchandise their children could spend time fulfilling their own dreams of sitting in very colorful chairs. What could be more exciting?

               Eventually we regrouped up front to see what the others had excavated. When all was rung up at the register the look on my Dad's face resembled the look that Howard Banister had when 'they tried to charge him for a radio because his wife said he would pay for it (but he didn't of course)'. To our surprise the tiny metal letters my Mom picked out were 50 bucks a piece and spent a while trying to guess what they were made of to merit such a heavy price tag. The only thing we could come up with was that they were obviously plutonium and sold for the sole purpose of fueling your flux capacitor allowing you to go back in time and convince yourself not to buy them. A hypothetical situation that can't be considered a waste of time considering time is irrelevant but it certainly would be a waste of effort.

       We didn't walk away empty handed but we didn't find the candy my Dad was looking for so we went somewhere else. The name of the place escapes me but from the looks of it I expected everything to cost a nickle. It made sense that we would need to be transported back into the 50's to find a candy flavor like horehounds or sassafras. It was worth trying once but it didn't change my life like I thought it would. We finished off with a quick trip to the Temple in bountiful to wrap up my much needed vacation. I still have my calculus exam to worry about though. Back to the salt mines I guess.
(Look, that place is called "Eggs in the City". You're welcome.)

Good conversation #1

                 

        A short while ago our family was rewarded with the long anticipated arrival of my younger brother who returned after 2 years of missionary service in Peru. I did my best to operate the camera at the airport considering my foot and captured minute after exciting minute of hunting down luggage. Its good to have the guy around again. His is a sense of humor we have been missing. A sense of humor that just the other day reminded me of one of my many faults.

        I have a couple regrets that relate to my poor record keeping skills. This includes receipts and expenditures for taxes, people who owe me money or favors and, most importantly, quotes and conversations I've had with my quick witted comrades. There have been so many things said that deserve a special place in our memories but instead have been thrown out to make room for trigonometric identities and chemical mechanisms. Likewise I have deleted many texting convos from my phone to make room for Pre-optometry society alerts and activity committee fiascos. I am trying to turn a new leaf by dumping banter on my blog. Here's one between me and my brother. If you don't enjoy reading it that's fine, it was never any of your business anyway.


Ethan: Question
Me: What kind of question?
Ethan: An intentionally unspecified one.
Me: Just one?
Ethan: Depends on your answer.
Me: So you are expecting an answer then and not a question.
Ethan: Honestly, I don't know what I'm expecting. I just know I'm expecting something.
Me: Well then prepare to be amazed by the most spectacular question ever posed to mankind and the
       like.
Ethan: What is it?
Me: "Why?"
Ethan: How do I answer that?
Me: How ever you want, use some artistic license.
Ethan: That's the thing. I'm searching for creativity.
Me: Like you googled it?
Ethan: ...no
Me: So where are you searching for it then?
Ethan: I'm trying to be creative searching for creativity.
Me: Well you're asking the wrong guy.
Ethan: How do you know? You don't even know what I'm looking for.
Me: Well I am the definition of a person void of creativity.
Ethan: I don't believe you and I don't even read the dictionary.
Me: Are you implying that I do read dictionaries?
Ethan: Read my words. I said 'I' twice! I only said 'you' once!
Me: You talk about yourself a lot.
Ethan: No I don't.
Me: Oh my mistake.
Ethan: I wouldn't have made that mistake. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Me: Not really. That's the kind of thing I would expect from someone like myself. You should lower your
       expectations
Ethan: I just expect what I'm told  to expect.
Me: Well expect rain. You might want to start carrying an umbrella around with you.
Ethan: Haha! Ha! Hohohmm. Give me a sec.
Me: I'll give you 2.
Ethan: Too much. I wouldn't know what to do with 2 secs.
Me: Understood.
Ethan: So take it back.
Me: I'll give it to someone who can use it.
Ethan: ...ya know what I kinda want it back.
Me: Too late, maybe next time.
Ethan: Hey! I need that second second! Give it back!
Me: Don't make this awkward for me. I can't ask for it back now. Not after seeing how excited they were.
Ethan: Who did you give it to??
Me: A group of Guatemalan refugees. They said they could hold 2 more jobs with a little extra time.
Ethan: Oh I like Guatamaltecos. They're really nice.
Me: Indeed.
Ethan: But I still want my sec back.
Me: I'll make note of it. When is your birthday again?
Ethan: I think It'll be next Thursday.
Me: Strange. Facebook normally tells me those sorts of things.
Ethan: Well I remember the president once told me that facebook is corrupt...maybe he's right.
Me: The only thing that Obama has ever been right about is that hamburgers are delicious.
Ethan: Well I wouldn't know. I don't taste.
Me: O ya. My bad.
Ethan: So I can't say that Obama was right about anything.
Me: Just hamburgers.
Ethan: I cannot testify to that. And remember that I don't believe you.
Me: I'll find a way to use that against you some day.
Ethan: Good luck...have you found an answer to my question yet?
Me: I don't recall you asking a question that I could respond to.
Ethan: I'll take that as a no.
Me: ...no.

Gotta Give Him Props

         Most stage-men and other entertainers have a profound understanding of the power of props. The idea began to make sense to me freshman year of high school when I found a sleigh bell in our junk drawer at home and stuck it in my pocket. It wasn't until PE class that I found a use for it. Most days after the jocks had their pick of the basketballs I was left to walk circles around the track with the Mexican kids and the druggies (That was about as physical as the physical education got at Mojave). I decided I would tie the bell to my shoe and see if eventually I would forget that it was there. It worked. After a while I couldn't hear it until some half-baked acquaintance would pull me aside to ask me if I was a reindeer.

         It wasn't long ago that I was strutting around with a surgical boot and cane which reminded me just how much people enjoy someone who advertises their individuality with things like walking aids. Regardless of the time or place random knickknacks make every experience better. My recent favorite is a birthday present I got from a friend many years ago and I just now decided to bring it along to college. Its an inflatable dragon pool toy that still remains nameless partly due to the fact that the girls I delegated the name finding to have been shirking their responsibilities- and also because the only names my roommates can come up with are associated with marijuana  Apparently Puff the Magic dragon's bad reputation has effectively dashed any hope of other dragons being able to live respectable lives. I hope you're happy Puff you magic turd.

         The more out of place it is the better. Nobody can appreciate 'He who has not been named' when he is quietly saving lives in an over sized bath tub but when hes my wing man at a social gathering he turns heads. Other wing men might potentially do more damage than good if they aren't quick witted but he will never say anything embarrassing and he legitimately has wings.

          Ice breakers and conversation starters like this make life simple the way cheesy pickup lines never could. People may think of props as social crutches but if crutches help you get around I see no problem with having a few of them. Not to mention its October again and its nice to have something to put between me and the zombies. Those jerks are always trying to get cheap makeup on my clothes.

        Don't worry. When we finally decide on a name for him you'll be the first to know -if not the eighth. 

Weekend highlights

        Story time, and it's a long one so get comfortable. It all started after a long day of classes followed by a three and a half hour study session. I hobbled back home to find that one of my roommates had company over and they had made us dinner. Inspired to leave the apartment for a night of miscreansy by the crowed that had fabricated next door for an "Oreo party"we left with his family members to have dessert at another complex.We had angel-food cake and chatted whilst some of the group tried to play the harp they found there.

        It wasn't long before Korbin and company got bored of  talking with the 'big kids' and began serenading other girls in the complex with a ukulele. Bradford and I decided to tag along and were stuck with the very important jobs of  recounting the up and coming band's previous exploits and rolling our eyes during their performances. From this we reaped the benefit of having food offered to us (and/or thrown at us) by the victims that crossed the group's path.

       We were shortly thereafter lured to another complex when an unknown number began texting one of the visiting backup singers. When we arrived at the door of those beckoning we found it blockaded by a couple being all romantic and what not. Instead of  putting ourselves in an awkward position by approaching them we instead made it awkward for the rest of them by telling the keeper of the unknown number that we were standing right outside the door waiting. Instead of finding us the girls interrupted the couple scaring them half to death. During the embarrassing turn of  events we sneaked up behind them, began playing the ukulele and scared them the rest of the way to death. Unfortunate for them, I almost feel bad.

       We were invited in and after the usual routine stayed to play some games and hear the girls tell creeper stories. It was getting late so we left and decided to hit one more apartment before we left. The door to their next door neighbors was open so Korbin wondered in and when all was said and done they invited us to dinner the next day. We can always make room for free food so we went of course.

       Earlier that day we heard about several different parties that would be happening when darkness fell. Most of the group went to a block party while I thought a fancy mock-tale party would be more my style as the party advertised that it was to be "the classiest night ever recorded since Sean Connery and Frank Sinatra went to a fancy restaurant with Princess Diana and Audrey Hepburn". It did not disappoint and even I was mistaken for a super classy fellow with a cane instead of a well dressed invalid with a walking aid.  Never have so many dashing people brought so much panache to a single location. The swank was so heavily concentrated it was hard not to use words like unfathomable and indubitably. The party eventually came to a close and I finished the night by watching Undercover Blues with some agreeable company.

       After experiencing an overwhelming amount of classiness Friday night I felt the need to bring things back into balance and prove that I am a well rounded person I went to watch a demolition derby and made it home in time for the BYU/Utah game to prove that I can be a redneck too. In both cases I discovered just how rowdy my roommates can be.

Its fantastic that you can have just as much fun in a suit as you can covered in mud and pieces of an old El Camino.                                                                                           Yes. Sometimes I do things.

Wait I said what?

         I am rarely accused of being an active sleeper as of late considering I'm not sharing a room with anyone at the moment, but I did find myself sleeping on the couch because sleeping in my bed is still hard on my foot for some unexplainable reason (this statement is valid as I have tried to explain it and failed to my shame). Normally my foot doesn't care where I sleep but the surgery has made it all high and mighty. I miss the times when it was still ugly and therefore humble. Now it's treated like royalty and thinks very highly of itself. I hope I don't make the same mistake when I have children.
Annnnnywaaaaay- my trying to sleep in a high traffic area while exhausted lead to a confusing conversation with my dad in the early morning.

         I haven't had good reports of my night-time adventures since my time in Weatherford, Texas when my roomy was a light sleeper and we were frequently apartment hopping. I generally only do stuff in my sleep when I'm abnormally tired and sleeping in different locations constantly. Our fickle circumstance lead to a routine report of my dealings each and every morning. Most reports would recount a similar dialogue which began with me sitting up and desperately trying to get Elder Cardon's attention followed but some exclamation related to food. For example:

Me-                   !!!ELDER ELDER ELDER ELDER!!!!
The Cardster-     Ya?
Me-                   GUESS WHAT?!
The Cardster-    What?
Me-                   I've got a banana cream pie here, and man that's a lot of cream!
The Cardster-    Go back to sleep Ewing.
Me-                   Ya alright--

       Why? I don't have an answer for you. What I do know is that I cheated the poor guy out of a good night sleep often enough to leave me feeling like I owe him something. He seemed to enjoy it the first few times but shortly after he began to look at me the same why I look at Gustov, my satanic alarm clock. The alarm that somehow trained me to wake up seconds before the set time so I could narrowly avoid ungodly punishment. It's demonic chirping could wake the dead.  No question that alarm is at the top of my list of least favorite noises (right above the voice of Death himself).     Gustov I hate you!

        All in all I have come to the realization that I miss knowing what I do when I'm unconscious as it makes for a good morning discussion but I'm glad I'm no longer the cause of torment for those unfortunate enough to be stuck in the same room with me during my episodes. I apologize in advance. I also empathize for those tormented by demon alarm clocks. Please continue to retain your sanity.