Look at These Cars.....They are Concepts but still....

BMW GINA-Imagine owning this. No seems on the doors, the fabric moves to open the headlights and hood. Amazing.

Dodge Viper GT S/R-What is this, like a V10 All-American testosterone oozing muscle car. Beast.

GT by Citroen-This was made for real after it was made in a video game. Impractical? Yes. Awesome? Yes.

Mako Shark Corvette Concept-I don't care, I still want to by this.

and finally.....

Rinspeed Splash-It's a car that goes on water. And land. O.O

I'm Pretty Embarrassed about this but oh well....

Dear Mr. King,

I would like to tell you about how your book Misery was pretty significant in the life a little child (who just happened to be me). I have read this book several times--the most recent being last summer--and have enjoyed each and every subsequent read-through of its 320 pages (at least in my edition). I loved everything, the pacing, the tone, generally just the writing. Now, I know that this is getting a bit to complimentary for the official LAL guidelines, but trust me, there’s a point to this blatant disregard of all rhyme and reason. Even though I loved the book, even though many others loved the book, I’ve just got to say: it scared the (to take one of Annie’s phrases from the book) ‘eff out of me. I guess it was sort of a bad idea to read it in the fourth grade, but hey, what’s done is done. No book (not even any of yours) has scared me like this one did. There was just something that I, as a nine-year-old child (yep, it’s crazy that I read this at that age, isn’t it) found utterly terrifying. Maybe it was the cop and the lawnmower scene (a face like hash browns *ewe*) or the foot cutting, but it just got to me. It was a good fear, though, an infectious fear, and it made me want to keep reading. I wanted more. More books, more stories, more, more, more. This is one of the ways my life has been affected by this book. Before the fourth grade (and before this book) I wasn’t all that into reading. I mean, I’d read a Potter book here and there, Eragon, what have you, but nothing ever made me want to, need to read more. After this book, I did. So thank you Stephen (can I call you Stephen?....probably not) for inspiring me to want to read. I practically ate up literature. Mind you, none of it was as utterly terrifying to me as this, but it gave me a jump start, a hunger. So, thanks, thanks for opening my mind to the wonderful world of literature.

I’m not going to proclaim anything as outlandish like “I’ve been abducted by a crazy serial killer nurse” or anything; however, there are certain parallels that I can make in connection to my own life. Paul is, in essence, trying to separate himself from his past (i.e. the Misery series of books), which is similar to the way that I’m trying to separate myself from my past (or the expectations of others). For most of my life I’ve been expected to play sports (it must be because of my tremendous physical build J). But that’s not who I am. This may seem kind of lame, but one of the biggest problems of the last six years of my life was playing sports each and every year, every day, every week. I don’t want to do that anymore, just as Paul doesn’t wish to write Misery. He wants to break free, and so do I.

So, Stephen, ahem, Mr. King, thanks for taking the time to read this, if it ever gets to you (which it probably won’t) for taking the time to write, and use your gift to inspire fourth graders (who probably shouldn’t be inspired by your particular books) around the world.

Sincerely,

                                      Chuck Testa

Can I do this? I sure as cuss hope so.

Let me start off by saying, “The Color of Magic” isn’t the typical book that I’d read. I’m not that in to fantasy (Harry Potter probably being the closest I’ve come), so take this review with a grain of salt. There are plenty of other books that I’d likely read before this, and honestly, I only chose it because I found it in my garage, and it looked like a short (210 pages, by mine, and the publisher’s count), easy, fun read. It wasn’t, for me at least. I labored through this book for the better part of two months. Sure, I was reading “To Kill a Mockingbird” (in my opinion, a much more engaging read, but it’s a classic, so maybe that’s not fair) at the same time, but it was still sort of a chore to read this “short, funny, easily-digestible fantasy parody. Anybody who has read a lot of fantasy will probably love this book. I, however, didn’t.

The book is set in a fantastical world (Discworld) which is, oddly enough, disc-shaped. The world itself has rests on the back of four giant elephants, who in turn rest on the back of a HUGE turtle, the great A’Tuin (who is, in theory, traveling to some cosmic mating grounds to mate, and spawn a whole new generation of A’Tuins. This is known as the “Big Bang Theory”) who is swimming endlessly through the cosmos. This obnoxious premise is a parody of the even crazier premises that, I guess, pop up in many fantasy titles. This book addresses many problems, one of which being, Discworld is not a very safe place, especially for the tourist Twoflower (a floundering, rich, over-trusting tourist) and his failed wizard tour guide Rincewind (the worst-as in bad at magic-wizard probably ever written; he is good at running away, and staying alive.)

The story begins when the out-of-plate tourist Twoflower arrives in the hard livin’ streets of the Twin Cities of Ankh-Morpork. Twoflower is from the Golden Kingdom, a far off land that seems surprisingly similar to our on world, in this medieval, magical Discworld (it has accountants, and in-sewer-ants). He has with him a pocket translator, and a magical, sentient luggage containing a large amount of gold, which causes him much grief as the lowlifes of Ankh-Morpork pester him for it. He meets up with the inept wizard Rincewind, who is forced by a city official to accompany Twoflower, and keep him safe so as not to tarnish relations with the Golden Kingdom’s Emperor. This odd successfully burns down the Twin Cities. After they flee into the woods, they encounter a mountain-troll (controlled by the petty Gods of Discworld, who are all explained in a very complicated chapter that I didn’t really understand), and are separated. They both, through teleportation and ineptitude, arrive in a temple, erected in tribute to Bel’Shammaroth, the Soul-Eater. In the temple, the meet a new traveling companion, Hrun the Barbarian, and his magical sword, Kring. They defeat the Soul-Eater with a camera, fight some dragons, go to space, everything. If this sounds pretty complicated for a relatively short book, it was, at least in my eyes.

I don’t know if fantasy is always this complicated and convoluted, or if Pratchett was going for comedic-ly long expositional chapters. Maybe avid fantasy readers will like this book more for it, but I found it kind of boring. Something that I did like was the few “broad comedy” jokes thrown in there (“Any suggestions?” “Obviously, you attack,” said Kring scornfully. “Why didn’t I think of that?” said Rincewind. “Could it be because they all have crossbows?” “You’re a defeatist.” “Defeatist? That’s because I’m going to be defeated.”), Kind of roundabout, I know, but I certainly got those. I’m sure that people who read a lot of fantasy will LOL (ha) at all the little fantasy inside jokes peppered in throughout the book, all the ones that I just couldn’t find.

I think that the main theme of this book was that sometimes those who people wouldn’t normally consider as heroic are actually the best heroes. It’s actually a kind of simple theme, for such a complicated plot. I guess all themes are, aren’t they. I would recommend this book to fantasy lovers, by the way. They’d probably get it more than me. I certainly hope so, because this spawned over thirty sequels. I sure hope that it wasn’t all fluff. I haven’t actually seen much parody books, and this one doesn’t really impress me. I’d like to read some stronger parody material.

Part 2 of 2 of Part 1 or a 2 Part Series

So, part two of two of part one of a two part series in which I take a look at my top played songs, write a mini review for them, and prove that I have good tastes in music (hopefully). Anyway, away we go on this Magical Mystery Tour (woah, history!!!).

In My Life - The Beatles
Notice how "Beatles" is spelled with "Beat"? They did that to relate to the beat of the music. Pretty crazy, right? Moving on, I can't really pick a "favorite" Beatles song, per se, because I like a lot of them very much. This song is the most played of my Beatles songs, though, and I really like it's melody. It's depressing and happy, but both emotions are "happenin'" (jive talk) at the same time.

Jumper - Third Eye Blind
Overall, it's a pretty depressing song. I heard it on a radio station, couldn't figure out what song it was (the so-called station didn't even mention the name), went crazy for a few weeks, and tried to commit suicide like the Jumper in the song. Well, maybe not the suicide part. I was overjoyed when I found out the song and bought it, though. Also, I freaking freaked out when I watched the movie "Yes Man" and this was in their. It's a small world, huh?

New Moon Rising - Wolfmother
My dad asked, "What are you listening to?" when he heard this on playing on my ITunes. That's possibly because the song, New Moon Rising, and the band, Wolfmother, are both pretty awesome omages to classic rock/punk/whatever. They just sound classic. When I told my dad what Wolfmother was, and said, as sweetly as I could muster, "I bought it because I love all of you favorite songs so much, and this just reminds me of them," he was SO HAPPY (omg). Brown-nosing, you say? Be that as it may, he drove me to the game store to buy a new video game. Ha!

A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles
Another Beatles song!?! Is that even possible? I told you it's hard to pick favorites, didn't I? This song was part of the Beatles' album that accompanied the movie "A Hard Day's Night." (The link I posted redirects to a clip from it). The movie, while weird, is pretty awesome, and you may consider watching it, if you enjoy long black and whites with some crazy-insane-weirdo humorous bits interwoven into the whole shabang. Anyway, great song, great opening chord, great cowbell.

All the Small Things - blink 182
I did mention, in a previous post that I have to play this song on the drums. Although I think that I've pretty much got it down, I still like to listen to this. Plus, it's gotten like a bazill-i-on plays, just off the fact that I listen to it while I practice. And I believe in the principle that "practice makes perfect." Also, it was hard to learn.

Well, all rightie then. Part two of two of part one of a two part series is complete. Those are my "Top Ten" songs. Next week, we check in on my five (or is she nine) year old sister's songs. _________ help me. Oh, before I forget, let me mention some runners up: Asia, Fountains of Wayne (Stacey's Mom--Hey, I put no link to this because, frankly, the video is....just don't watch it. It has all sorts of innuendo, fantasy, and other "wacky" stuff involving Stacey's mom. The song's catchy though.), and yet again: Wolfmother (yep, they're that awesome). Ok, that's all folks, have fun reading this, and please, please don't read any comments on the videos (unless, you know, you want to). Peepes in the crib say HAY...hay

Part 1 of 2 of Part 1 of a 2 Part Series of Blogs (think about it, makes sense)

So, today, I'm beginning part one of two of part 1 of....just read the title. Anyway, this series of posts is about my top ten most played songs on Itunes vs. my five (wait, she's like nine now, huh) year old sister's songs. Part 1 will conscist of 5 out of 10 of my top ten songs. Then, I'll have another part 1, whcih is my sister's first 5, then part 2 (second 5). That should, hopefully, be enough of a difference between the two to prove that I'm not a five (nine) year old girl, and end this battle that I am currently raging against depression and self doubt, mainly because I'm too scared to listen to gangster rap songs, which obviously means that I'm not a man. So, with the first five of my songs, here we go dot dot dot....

Surrender-Cheap Trick
Cheap Trick is a pretty awesome band. I mean, if you follow this link, you'll see that their singer and bassist both have pretty awesome 70s rocker hair, the drummer has an awesome pervy moustache and glasses, an the guitar player has a pretty great Mr. Rogers sweater (brain fart, but I forgot it's exact name) and upturned hat.

Lump-Presidents of the United States of America (whew)
Besides their over-long name, ironically crappy drumset, speededed-up swamp playing, and strange lyrics, this song is catchy, and fun to play on Rockband. Rock on!

I'll Make a Man Out of You-Mulan (The Movie)
This one's kind of embarassing, but oh well. Who in their right mind doesn't love this song. It's so cheesily awesome and uplifting, with so many nature-based similies that it hurts. Remember, if you train hard and grow gigantic muscles, you can become a true man. Unless you're a girl, then you need to be clever. And have a dragon-spirit sidekick thing, which talks jive for some reason.

Everybody Knows-Kids of 88
I heard this song on a podcast (those are fun, too) and bought it a few weeks later (I didn't have an ITunes card for a while, OK). I like the beat, even though it's fairly simple, it's still pretty great. The singer's (I don't even know who the heck he/she/it is) voice is pretty good.

Dance Yrself Clean-LCD Soundsystem
Boy, do I know a lot about LCD-I mean soundsystems-I mean, I'm pretty sure that this is just one guy, some LCD, and a soundsystem, but it's great. The song doesn't really kick in until about three minutes in, but boy, does it. LCD FTW.

Anyway, that concludes part 1 of 2 of part 1 of 2 of a series that I am doing, which basically consists of me seaching up some songs on Youtube, copying the links, and summarizing some of the comments. Unless, of course, you, the reader, are in fact Mr. Thompson. Then, you should know that I but plenty of thought and....stuff into this. I really do. I'm laying my soul on the line here. Anyway, peeps in the crib say HAY...hay

Ooops

So, someone (me, I was the one who pointed it out to myself) pointed out to me that my post that went up on 11/13/11 about surprises, and containing a video that featured, among other things, chicken that may or may not have sworn. While rewatching this video one day, I realized that although I couln't understand exactly what the chicken was saying, it sort of sounded like a certain swear word (some may consider it the "worst" swear word), and so, I took down that post. Don't worry, Mr. T or whomever is grading this for 500 words (if anyone, in fact is), I guarentee that it had 500 words, and met the weekly quota. This brings me to a new topic, sort of, (wow, I'm great a segues, huh?) swearing. As I wander down the halls of our fine school, I oft (nifty word, huh?) wonder thus (nift word, huh?): why all the %$#*ing swearing? (See, it's ironic because I swore in my statement of "why all the swearing?") Why do people like to swear? What is its point? Does it have a point? What makes this an even weirder point of view that I have is the fact that I'm not LDS. Get ready for stereotyping, but it seems to me that everbody at school is either LDS or "those people who swear." Is there anyone else who blurs the line? I just have to wonder, because it bothers me that there seems to be these two very distinct groups. It's okay, people have the right of free speach and stuff, but why is it so polarizing in our school. Yin and Yang, White and Black (wait, is that racist?). And the thing is, I really admire Mormons and Mormanism. It stresses the importance of family, and good moral values, and stuff. That's kind of all I know about it, but still, pretty cool. Anyway, I think that I've hit 500 words this week, maybe even more, so...Peeps in the crib say HAY...hay

Table

So today I was playing a game of high-stakes strip poker with myself, and after everyone left, I had to clean up the poker table. It was the hardest thing that I have every done in my entire life. Only one of the table legs would fold in, and even with my He Man (yep, that is just what I look like) strength, I couldn't get the other three to cooperate. This table probably took up a full ten minutes of my life before I set it on fire in my backyard with finality and decisiveness. So, anyway, here is a great picture of the table--and me....

Wait...

Wait...

Wait...

OK, so I can't figure out how to load this freaking picture. Oh well, I suppose you guys don't want/have to see a defective table, or me after a high-stakes game of strip poker. Peeps in the crib say HAY....hay

Hard Stuff+My Grandpa's Carz

So, as all of you know, I'm taking lessons for drums, otherwise known as drum lessons. Wait, you actually don't know that, but that's OK, because all that you need to know is that I'm taking lessons for drums, OKADL (figure out the acronym, it's not to difficult) and I'm supposed to play this...

Obviously, neither my drumset or my skills are as great as this guy's, nor am I  as high on meth as he is, but I still have to play this monster.

On to the second thing, my grandpa's cars. I guess you could say that my grandpa (the same one who taught me the mystic arts of Frisbee, all of which I've pretty much forgot) collects cars because he has this...

and this....

and these all in his garage, and that's just like a fifth of his whole collection.

So, hopefully, I can kill him (not, that would be morally immoral) to get all of these. Or just try to buy something along these lines with my meager $1500 in savings. Peeps in the crib say HAY....hay.

You might think that I'm just a regular kid doing a blog for English class, but no

OG Chuck Testa Commercial

Chuck Testa Songify Remix

Remixed Remix (carefull, there's a picture of a swear word around 1:00 minute. Black out you screen people!!!)

Runneeng with an EE

Pretty crazy, huh?

So, anyway, in this post I'd like to talk about running/jogging/streaking etc... well, all except the streaking (you'll have to wait until next week for that). So, most every night, I go jogging with my dog, JoJo (remember?). I run around 2 miles, usually, through my neighborhood. I'd like to talk about my experiences and maybe get someone interested in starting to run/jog/streak. It's a great excercise, especially if you're fat...I mean, you're not fat, you've just got big bones, you know? So, yeah, you're not fat at all, 350 lbs of pure muscly fat. OK, just kidding, neither of the two of you are fat, it's you guys' moms who really are. You should get them started on it. Also, tell them to lay off on the meth. It makes their breath reek.

Something anybody who is intent on running with their dog needs to remember is this: make sure that it can run. Don't run around with your miniature Chihuahua or whatever lap dog you happen to have. You'll strangle it with its collar when it falls behind, and eventually Fluffles will be dead. Trust me, I know from experience-I mean..... Anyway, also, bring along a poo bag.

a poop bag(s)

Unless you are a real jerky pants, you don't really like to leave your neighbors a nice hot dog turd to find the next morning.So, get some poop bags. Go to, you guessed it, http://dogpoopbags.com/ for more information about dog poop bags.

With the weather getting cooler, many people stop their running routine because they get to cold. I have a solution: wear only a pair of whitey tighties and your running shoes. You'll get so cold, you won't even be able to feel the cold (or the hypothermia). Or, I guess you could be a big spender you could buy high-tech running gear that keeps you warm. I guess it's your choice: you could choose the no cost option, but with the possible side effects of death or incarceration, or, there's the $30-$40 dollar advanced gear. Choose whichever you want, I guess. Plus, if you're running so slow that you can't stay warm in your whitey tighties, than speed it up, Jack.

So, in conclusion, I think that everyone and their mothers (especially their mothers) should try running somewhere at some point in their lives. It gets you there much slower than if you drive, and you're all sweaty! Isn't that great? OK, so maybe it isn't so great after all. In fact, I think that I'll never run anywhere ever again. I probably should just stay home on the couch, wasting away into fat oblivion. Yeah, that's what I'll do. It sure is a good thing I thought to write this, else I'd never have thought to become a complete slob and never leave my basement! Lucky me!!

P.S. Never run in the woods. There are numerous dangers such as: bears, snakes, pervs, alligator, bats, squirrels, your own mind, and pools of ice cold water meticulously set up by a Norwegian TV station designed solely to make you look like an idiot on TV.

Weird Thing at the Library

This mentions a library.

So, yesterday I was at the library and went over to the computers that they have at the library because it's a library and I was at the library because my sister was getting books at the library and...anyway when I clicked on the Google Search bar and typed in "Driver San Francisco" (a video game that I had wanted to, and since have, bought) but before I even got to the "v" in "Driver," this came up on the auto complete thing: "Drinks that make you fart"

What?? What the *ahem* eff is this? Who searches for "drinks that make you fart"? Why would anyone possibly need that information? Were they planning on going to some fart party and they needed to load up on some ammo? I thought everone knew that beans, beans, the magical fruit could help you out in that department. Or maybe he/she was going on a date and he/she needed to know what not to order, because they've had bad experiences at restaurants before. Boy, I know I have. There was this one time when I was in this really quiet, nice restaurant with my grandparents and I just let a huge one....uh, I mean, there's some weird people at the library, huh?

Naturally, I clicked search, ignoring the strange looks from the two people adjacent to me. Hey, I wasn't the origional fart-drink searcher. I clicked on the first result, and found it very strange. Go ahead and read it if you must, but here is a tasteful excerpt:

"There are a couple sources of fart gas, the largest source is actually swallowed air, and another is the bacterium in your intestines that help you digest your food.  Depending on what food you eat these bacteria will produce various levels of various gases.  What you eat could increase the amount of gas you expel, but for the most part what you eat will determine if your farts are smelly or not.  If you want to fart a lot try swallowing a lot of air and then waiting for a while."

First off, fart gas????!!!!! That is a term that I'll try to work into my everyday vernacular for sure. I hope I used that word correctly, but probably not. Where was that term coined. How could however thought up that phrase not realized that anyone who hears the words "fart gas" will instanly crack up in laughter?

Fart gas. Cool, huh?

Secondly, swallowing air????!!!!! (I know, I like to use italics and question marks and exclamation points, it's just who I am?????!!!!!). Is that something that we don't normally do? I don't know, it's just a weird thing I guess. Anyway, thats all for my blog post, and this is officially the last blog post that I'll ever do in term one of ninth grade for FFJH Honor English. I know that to be absolutely true. By the way, has anyone ever notice that the word assassin has not only one, but two swear words, and????!!!!! the word "sin"?

Sunday Football

There's something that I just love to do, which is to watch football on Sunday. I'm a big fan of the NFL, and I was very happy when the players and the owners settled about the contract disputes and just started to play the game. I think that all of the teams' owners just needed to suck it up and pay the players, because they will eventually make much more money then they have to give to the football players. It's lucky that the National Football League (official name) could get its players to play, not like the NBA, who has still failed to start their season. It is a good thing that the player's contracts were renewed so that we can have a proper football season.

We usually go to my Uncle Chris's house to watch (he has a big TV, and chips). Seriously, his TV is FREAKING huge, much bigger than ours, plus it's high def. The only problem is that he has three huge great Danes, and the Danes' tails are always knocking over our drinks and stuff, but the food is good and the TV is big so it's all OK. You would be surprised with how much people will put up with just to watch football on a huge TV.

When there is a break between the early and late games, my family, my uncle's family and my uncle's neighbors' family play touch football, which is really not that fun. Usually, the teams are family vs. family, Woods vs. Thomases, but this week, the parents decided to mix it up. All of the Thomases' kids were mixed up, and all of my family's kids were mixed up, and we squared off. To put this in perspective, these games are usually about as interesting as PE football games, and most of the time, I just want to get back to the TV.

I have had a chance to visit an actual NFL game. It was about three years ago, and we went to Raymond James Stadium in Tampa Bay, Florida, home of the Buccaneers (my favorite team). The stadium is nothing like it looks on television. The men's bathrooms are dirty, the food isn't all that good, there's a bunch of sleazy scalpers, but I still loved the experience. It's just fun to be part of the stadium experience, feeling the emotions of the whole stadium as you scream and root for your team to GO FIGHT WIN!!!

So if anybody is still reading at this point, I encourage you to try out watching a football game next Sunday, or Monday or Thursday. They can be very exciting and fun to watch. The Super Bowl is perhaps the biggest sporting event in the world, and draws millions of viewer’s world wide, all of whom are fans of football. Let's add to the ranks, we definitely need more football fans in America. So go ahead, plop down on the coach, flip on the TV, and watch some good old fashioned fun for a Sunday afternoon.

Psych (a cool TV progam show)

Recently at school (on Friday-YEAH that recently) I heard to people talking about the show Psych in every period, and in the lunch line. That made me feel kind of funny, because that is one of my favorite cool TV program shows, and it was interesting for me to think that so many people like it. I guess I should have known that it was pretty popular, because it has 6 seasons, but it made me laugh a little. All of the episodes from seasons one through five are on Netflix Watch Instant, and I would encourage people to try it out. It is truly laugh out loud at times and I became addicted to it last summer.

I guess the reason that I really like the really cool TV program show, Psych, is that many of it's jokes are really obscure, and it doesn't care. It just keeps telling joke after joke that the writers must know many people won't get. That isn't to say, however, that there aren't universally funny jokes thrown in the mix, like....

I don't know, maybe this is kind of obscure. If you don't get it, watch Jaws, it's actually also on Netflix Watch Instant, and it's a cool Movie program show. It's about a shark, with jaws (ahhh, you see) that eats people.

Anyway, back to Psych. Something that it has going is that it's not overly dirty. Not that I really care, and probably the two of you don't care either, but this could be a show that you could watch with your parents and not become an embarrassed saucy pants when something that is.... I don't know, sensual is mentioned. There are a few baudier (Thesaurus comes in handy) things in there, but not worse than Shrek, I guess. Plus, yo' momma's so drugged up that she won't even notice what you're watching. Sorry, that was in poor taste, I know she OD'd last year...psych! (see what I did there)

Which brings me to my next point. Dictionary.com has three deffinitions for the word psych, and the third one is the one that's most applicable to the show. It says psych means to figure out psychologically, to decipher. This applies to the show because the protagonist, Shawn, is a Santa Barbara PD consultant who helps the police solve crimes, most often murder cases. He is also a "PYCHic" detective, and runs an PI agency with his friend Gus. So basically, I wrote this paragraph to say that the title of a show makes sense in the context of what the show is about.

In conclusion, I would like to strongly urge you (the two of you) to watch this show if you have Netflix, or rent the DVDs, or pirate it online. Wait, don't do that. I seem to remember reading an article about netiquette somewhere...now where could that have been? Anyway, try to get your hands on a some Psych episodes, and you'll be able to get in on some inside jokes, such as the "Where's the Pineapple" game. I actually don't know if it's a game, but I do know that there's something with this show and pineapples. Anyway, try to watch it. Have fun (unless you think the show sucks).

BRAKING the Law

OK so if you are a cop, you might want to stop reading right now. I won't be discussing anything illegal, like braking the law or anything. NO, absolutely nothing. So just stop. Stop reading this right now. Please.
Just kidding, if there's let's say, 6 people reading this (a high estimate), there is an obscenely low chance that one of you is a cop, which is why I'm going to tell you this. I'm a drug runner. I swallow balloon fulls of drugs and  transport them to and from Mexico. Oh, and my parents let me drive our car on most weekends.

Not on Highway 89 or anything (although I once went on the interstate on the way to Park City brag brag brag), just around the city. So far, I haven't gotten into any accidents, which is a big plus. Also, I've never even seen a cop, nor gotten pulled over by one, which is a MAJOR plus, because I don't need my drugs to be discovered. If that ever happened, I would never be able to afford a flight back to Mexico. So I've been on rides with both of my parents, and both have found ample times to criticize me on my driving skills, which is good.

The weird thing is, my dad won't even let me get my liscense, or permit, until I finish my Eagle Scout Project, which is weird, because he never finished his. I don't know why he pushes it on me as something I HAVE to do. He never did it, and he seems to be perfectely fine in life. Is the eagle some mystical object that helps you get all the success and glory that you could ever want. Yeah, I know that it can be a deciding factor in a job interview, but so can a good car=I mean education. If I focus all my attentions and energies on driving-I mean education, wouldn't that also help me get a job. I mean, if you have a guy with stait A's at Harvard (not saying that'll be me) and a guy with an education at the local community colledge, who you would obviosly choose the Harvard one. Wait, he has an EAGLE, woah!!, hire him right away. I know that it can help, but not that much. Just because he did a community service project and completed a few merit badges doesn't give him this gigantic edge in the working world. You need a good schooling just as much as you need a sash with badges on it.

So hot and spicy.

Anyway, ideally, if I complete my eagle, I would love this car...

or this one...

but I'll most likely end up with this one, due to monetary limitations...

or hopefully I could get my grandfather to sell me one of his classic cars for cheap. The thing is, when you are a teenager who's only job is walking dogs and mowing lawns, you can only have about $2000 dollars save up in the bank (minus $500 or so for video games). So the realization that I came to is that I'll pretty much end up with a crappy car anyway so why even drive until I can afford a better car. I'll just mooch off my parents until I can.

I'm gonna get me some of that icecream, boy!!

What are you, stupid?

These videos, and the frisbee one I posted earlier, are all from YouTube, by Julian Smith. If you haven't seen some of his vidoes, there are some really good ones, and also some duds. It's like life I suppose, or Milk Duds. They have dud in the name, of course some of them are duds.

My Dog

Jojo. She's pretty melencholy in this picture, huh?

This week I want to talk about my dog, JoJo. She is the namesake for this blog, and is the only pet dog that I have ever had. Even though I have a cat and some fish, JoJo is the only pet that I really connect to. I love to walk her, pet her, take her to the park. She has a wonderful, kind and gentle personallity. I really love her, (and this is really sappy). I wonder how many peole have had a dog that they have connected with like I have with JoJo. There is, however, one problem. You have never smelled something so horrible as one of her *ahem* farts. They are, as many would put it "silent but horribly violent."

I want to tell the story of how my family came to own JoJo. We didn't, unfortunately, raise her from a puppy (I bet she would have been pretty cute). We got her when she was about 2 years old. It was 5 years ago (post script: that makes her 49 in dog years).  It was back when we had an old, green Buick Le Sabre. I only mention this because it was a huge part of my child hood, and because it was bright, metallic green. For some reason, this sticks out in my mind. Anyway, it was a cool, but sunny mid-October day. The sky was very blue, and cloudless. We were driving along, my mom following the directions of a newspaper clipping, cut out of the classifieds. It said something like "Dog for Sale, Mixed Breed, young (2 yrs), excited and happy, five dollars." I had read the clipping many times over, and still couldn't believe it. Five dollers! For a dog! Was she defective or something?

We arrived at the house. It was a nice, quiet, blue 2 story split duplex, as my dad would call it (he's an appraiser, he determines the value of people's houses and property). As soon as we pulled up, I heard the barking, and a small, squat, black dog ran from around behind the yard. A young kid ran screaming after her, and a mom walked out the front door, carrying a leash. "So, you're the people who want to buy Pepper?" (we later changed her name, my dad didn't like "Pepper"). "Yep" my mom said. "So, why did you decide to sell her?" "Well, we moved to this house, and the community rules are that you can't have an indoor dog, and Pepper just isn't an outdoor dog."

Thus is the sad story of Jo. Her previous family loved her dearly, put when they moved, they had to put her outside. JoJo really don't like the outside. So, they put an add in the newspaper to try and get her a better home. She wasn't defective, the family wanted to give her away for free, but the paper forced them to ask at least five dollers. And she became ours.

Put This Thing I'm About to Share With You in Your Mouth

So, I made this recipe for foods class, and while writing the underneath post, I ate (literally) 800000 pieces, minus 799997 pieces of cheese pie. If anybody on the planet ever reads this, make some cheese pie and eat it, because it's delishUS.

Cheese Pie

1 (9-inch) graham cracker crumb crust

1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened

1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

1/3 cup lemon juice from concentrate

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In large mixer bowl, beat cheese until fluffy. Gradually beat in sweetened

condensed milk until smooth. Stir in lemon juice and vanilla. Pour into

prepared crust. Chill 3 hours or until set.

FRISBEE MADNESS!!!!!!!!!

This afternoon I was at the park throwing the frisbee with my dad, and my dog, and my mom, and...my sister, and I had an epiphany: frisbees are pretty darn coolio. That's right, I said it. Just think about it. It's a disk, of plastic, that can fly 100 feet and smack a nine year old girl square in the mouth. I promise, it wasn't intentional (is what I told my mom, but we all know the real truth). There just isn't anything quite as fun as running around a field with your family, throwing the good ol' frisbee at each other's faces. The sad thing is, I don't think enough people appreciate just how fun it it, and the frisbee has been forgotten, save for colledge aged hipsters and apparently my family. So, I implore anyone reading this, try it out. Throw the frisbee around a few times. It's a wonderful experience. Hopefully, next weekend, there will be 2 more peepes out there with their familys, hucking the plastic disk of life (at least that's what I call it).

The basic idea

Right now, I would love, more than anything in the entire world, to tell you the story of how I got intested in the frisbee. I was taught the ancient art of frisbee throwing by my Grampa Bill. GB could be best described as, well, a hippy. He wears epic tie-die shirts, has a pony tail, smokes pot (just kidding, if he did, I would have shared that experience as well [not really]) and, plays frisbee, which is pretty hippy-ish. One day, I was over at his and my Gramma's house. It's in Salt Lake, so he drove me to this really seedy inner-city park. I was around eight, and was pretty freaked out by all the stinky bums that slumbered up against the tree trunks and on the benches. GB proceeded to whip out a frisbee, and asked me "Have you ever played frisbee?" No. "You have to try it, Nay, here, this is how you hold it." We spent the rest of the afternoon throwing the frisbee back and forth, back and forth, homeless people watching us all the while. By the end of the afternoon, I was actually pretty proficient, and  at least ten percent of my throws went relatively strait. I know it's a momumental achievement. All the while, GB was patient, kind, and I could tell he was having a lot of fun.

I realize now that  when learning to frisbee, I had an experience that a lot of people may not have. I learnt a skill from an elder. It was like I was an Jedi Apprentice, learning the deep and ancient powers of the force. Not really, but it was such a profound experience, having this person with so much more experience than you teach you a skill, with such tenderness and willingness for you to suceed. I knew at that moment that there was hope for this planet, if two human beings can share an experience, and grow and learn from it in such a way that me and GB did that day. Sappy, huh?

Sorry

Sorry you two, for all the rapes, I mean gramaticalititcal mistakes in my last post, especially in the Rape and Main Point paragraphs, I guess it just shows that I was burning the 9 o'clock oil, and also that I rely far to much on this sub-par spell checker.

Procrastination

OK, so Friday was not a fun day at school for me. I guess it started on Thursday night, as I toiled over my homework until the wee hours of 11PM. That might not seem so late, but I get up at 6 in the morning to get ready for school, and seven hours of sleep isn't that much in the grand scheme of....sleep? I don't know, but here is a tip for anyone reading this (maybe 2 people) don't procrastinate. Don't wait to do a 5 page science packet, 2 science 5 paragraph essays, and 2 Geography news story reviews until 9PM the night before they're due, because you'll wake up feeling like crap, if crap is an achy, sore throat-ed, runny nose-ed, itchy eyed-ed, PO'd-ed (what's with all the -ed, I haven't a clue) 14 year old boy. To make matters worse, all we did for an hour and half of PE was shoot baskets instead of going outside to play flag football. It wasn't raining that hard, was it? Well, I don't know, because we didn't go outside to play flag football! We also did the trunk lift, which seems designed to put you in a prime position to either a) get your back broken or b) get (man, I hope I'm aloud to say this) get raped.


(The humiliating trunk lift)

And before anyone gets all harrumphed-ed about the word rape (geez I said it again) let me justify it for a second. I assume the rules of this blog are "don't say anything that you wouldn't say in a classroom setting" but it seems that all I ever here about in class is rape. Rape rape rape. Actually, my logic is probably flawed, because if I could say the F, B, A, S words, or even the BS word or the FA word (are those even words?). Okay, here's a solution. If you, or you (remember, there are only two people reading this) are offended

the word rape, then skip the last section and start reading.....

Here. But wait. If you knew to start reading here, you'd have already had to have read the last line, which contained the word rape. And, if you read the last line, you probably at least skimmed the paragraph which contained the last line, which contained rape 6 times, and implied that certain swear words may or may not exist. And if you've read this far, you've read the word rape again, and, just barely, again. OK, this is getting out of rape, I mean hand. From now on, just try not to be offended, and I'll try not to say rape. I'll just say the "R word" which implies that rape exists, but doesn't come right out and say rape. Crap.

So back to my original point rape, I mean, procrastination. Right now, I am currently guilty of procrastination, as I am sitting here, at 9:18PM (less than two hours before this is due) with around 400 of my 500 word a week blog quota completed. Wow, that was a run sentence which seemed to make absolutely no sense. So sorry to the two of you still reading this (if you are in fact still reading it). Good job. Let me congratulate you, gentle rapers, I mean readers, (there are two of you, remember) for making it this far. I know this has been long and off topic and rambling, and sometimes insufferably boring,  but you've stuck to it. Good job. Let me say it a third time, but this time different. Great job. And now, as I have no discernible way of telling how many words I have, other than counting, which sux (ha, see I can txt), let me commence with the raper, I mean filler.

Politics. All I seem to here about politics in school is "Well I'll tell ya', that fricking Obama." What's so fricking about Obama, the Bamster as I call him (I met his wax sculpture in DC)? Does he really deserve to get the eyes of his picture scratched out and have SATAN written underneath, which is what happened at my elementary in 2008, during the election. Is he really Satan? I thought that Satan was Satan. Maybe he isn't living up to you guys-ez (or, dare I say, you guys-ez parent's) expectations, but does that deserve an induction into the Satan Hall of Fame, where his portrait will adorn the walls along with Hitler, and thousands of rapists (wow, I can't believe I said it again). I honestly don't think so, I mean you can dislike a guy, but that doesn't make him Satan. If that were the case, then half the school (and perhaps some of the faculty, but I'm not one to name names) would have to walk around wearing "Hello, My Name is Satan" name tags.

PS (post script)... Woah...Sorry about the weird ending, you two. Hopefully, I won't get cornered and beat up by you guys, although I feel pretty confident that I could evade two untrained attackers (unless one or both of you happen to be ninjas).

Napoleon Dynamite/James Bond trailer

I saw this video today before football practice and was almost late because I watched it about 10 times.

Blog Post #1

Hello. world!