Wow

Well, today I did a search for books on Missionaries and picked up "Under the Overpass" and "On Being a Missionary". The latter book is supposed to have insights from 100 current and past missionaries. I've also requested information from World Venture. Also this week, I'll be going to the bank to set up a special savings account to use as funds for future missionary costs. This could hopefully be the start of something great!

Homeless

As I've been thinking recently about what I want to do with my life, one idea has been milling around lately. Missionary work. It wouldn't have to be out of the country, state, or even the city. I've always wanted to help people and enjoy it so much when the opportunity arises. In fact, I had a social work major for a short amount of time.
So here's something that's on my "take a step into reaching a major goal" list. Spend at least one weekend a year as a homeless person. No money, ID, or even gum; just the clothes on my back. Mike Yankoski wrote a book on his experience, but he didn't just do it for a weekend, he did it for five months and travelled across the country, from D.C. to San Fransisco. His book is titled "Under the Overpass". He had a good friend travel along with him during the entire experience, which is something I would want as well.
How can I become sympathetic to the homeless crisis, or even poverty in other countries if I never experience it on such a level?
What do you think?

Maid in Manhattan (With a Vengeance)

I don't know if once of my last posts had anything to do with it or not, but I had one of the strangest dreams ever on tuesday night.

Jennifer Lopez, aka "J.Lo" was in Minneapolis and the city threw a huge parade for her. Now I'm not a fan of hers, so having her in one of my dreams was especially odd. Anyway, back to the dream. I'm standing outside in the freezing cold watching this parade happen when the float she's standing on stops in front of me. All of a sudden the mayor walks over to her and declares that its now question and answer time, so he hands the microphone to me and asks if I have a question for Mrs. Lopez. So I come up with the first thing that pops in my head.

"Mrs. Lopez, will you ever stop using fur in your clothing designs?"

J.Lo's expression changes from thrilled to furious in a split second. She jumps off the float, runs over to me and screams, "Don't ever ask me that $*#@ question! I'm going to kill you!" She then smiles, turns around and gets back on the float. The parade then resumes....and I wake up.

freaky

Poe Wouldn't Write Like Shel Silverstein

Yeah, I know that my last post was pretty depressing, but I'm currently in a depressed mood. What would you expect? Sometimes I use this blog as an excuse to vent, so as to not bring up my issues to other relatives or friends. Some family and friends, who, ironically read this blog. Oh well.

Today was not a good day. Granted, I had enough work that would last me through the day, and that is always a plus, but for some reason I was so incredibly moody. Once in a while I'll get these mood swings. The sour end of the swing feels like an internal catfight.

Why the swing? Well, some of it must be hormonal. Sometimes I wonder why people were given these chemical balances and imbalances and specific glands which create hormones and why women seem to express the effects of these hormones more vocally and physically than men. If a man were to suddenly switch from having a nice, calm demeanor while dining at a restaurant to someone who instantly cries when the server says, "Sorry, we're out of vanilla ice cream", most would assume that this man has severe emotional problems. But when a pregnant woman goes from being the social light of a party to locking herself in a dark bedroom 15 minutes later crying, "I just want to be alone", nothing much is considered, except for those pesky hormones.

What would be another reason for today's swing? Minor irritations at work have ballooned into major annoyances, and today the balloon popped.

And another reason? I've realized more often than not, I can easily figure out what I don't want to do in life as opposed to what I do want to achieve before this life escapes from my body. Not only that, but I cannot come up with a single immediate way to get out of this rut. Not even a 5-year plan comes to mind.

I'm 23. Not married or even in a relationship, and not wanting to ever be in that status at all. Period. Is that normal, even for me? Not sure. Wanting to desperately go back to school, but not having the financial means whatsoever, and not even having a parent with that convenience. And I used to think that music was my definite career path. Now I'm not so sure. Wanting so much to have a permanent job, but not knowing how and not even getting an interview for the jobs I've been the most excited about pursuing. During my high school reunion last July, a former classmate asked what I had been up to since we had last seen each other. When I stated my reply in the most positive manner I could give, he apologized and said, "Everyone gets in a rut sometimes." . Wow. I felt like a total failure.

So for now, here's my goal for the next year, 2006.
- Get $1,000 in a general savings account

- Keep active in church

- Get a permanent job

- Stay in current housing arrangement

- Keep chipping away at my $10,000 college debt, get it down to $9,000

- Start new college savings account, get at least $500 in there (that should cover books expenses for one semester)

- If I can afford it, get a used car

- Keep adding to the "What I Don't Want to Do With My Life" list

- Maybe (a big maybe) figure out what I want to do before I die

- Take one step (minor or major) into reaching a life goal

- Read. Anything. All the Time.

Man, it is, pathetically, so hard to even comprehend an end in sight.

Don't Ralph, Ok?

Yesterday, I had the chance to come across a program called "2005's Big Spenders". The premise of the show is basically self-explanatory - it focuses on the celebrities who spend the most money in one year, and what they've bought with that money. Don't throw up when I list the following -

Madonna spent $10,000 on diamond encrusted eyelashes
Jennifer Lopez - $10 million on two rings
Tom Cruise - $20,000 on a necklace for his current fiance'
T-Boz - $50,000 on a mini-house for her daughter
Posh Spice and David Beckham - $150,000 for a play house for their kids
Paris Hilton and her former B/F - $1 million to rent a yacht for a month off the coast of Greece
Usher - An $80,000 diamond self-portrait on a watch

Can you imagine how much assistance $10 million would provide to those who suffered from Hurricane Katrina and Rita? How about those in Uganda who will travel many miles in one day through enemy territory to get a scrap of wood in order to start a fire to warm up meat at home? Or those who were just hit from the earthquake in Pakistan? Or those who struggle with aids.....or.....basically ANY other cause besides the feeding of these person's self-indulgence?

Now I'm not saying that if I had some extra cash that I wouldn't splurge a little. However, I completely admire Rick Warren, author of "The Purpose-Driven Life". When the money rolled in, he didn't upgrade his lifestyle. He didn't move into a better home and didn't get a better car. In fact, he tithed in reverse. He lived off 10% of his income and gave away 90%. I understand that most of the world's population cannot live like that, but what a world it would be if we could! What a difference it would make if John Travolta sold his jet and gave the proceeds to cancer research. If Madonna sold her second home in Britain and donated to Hurricane Katrina relief efforts. In fact, if Madonna just took a second look at those eyelashes, said "pass", then gave that same amount of $ to a food shelter or the Salvation army.

I want to cry.

Hilarious Videos

A church actually made these videos as a satirical look at Jesus and most importantly who He is NOT. These four videos will crack you up.

www.vintage21.com

>>Enter Site
>>Hover mouse over film projector at top of images and click
>>click videos
>>Page 2 (small blue number at top)
>>Enjoy

Lies, Lies, Lies

Ok, this is just something I have to get off my chest.

I'm trying to figure out the turning point in which the news reports went from being honest to a constant spewing of blatant lies. I cannot believe or watch the news anymore without shaking my head in disbelief or disgust.

Last week on the local news station, I saw a dramatic slow-motion re-enactment of a dog being bitten by a coyote. WHO CARES? Does anyone report on the following?

We have a war in Iraq in which democrats once said was justified but is now called "unfounded" for some particular reasons. They had and still have the same information that comes across the president's desk, but disagree.

Joseph Wilson (who consistently donates to the the democratic party), Valerie Plame's husband, once made a statement to the CIA that Sadaam Hussein had contacted Niger for its interest in "yellow cake" a form of uranium that can be used in the production of nuclear weapons but then reniged that statement saying that Iraq had interests only in Nigers other products. And what would those other products be? Hmm......how about cowpeas, cotton, peanuts, millet, sorghum, cassava (tapioca), rice; cattle, sheep, goats, camels, donkeys, horses, and poultry. I can just picture Sadaam calling up the Nigerian government to negotiate the shipping rates on tapioca and rice for the annual Betty Crocker Cook-off. "We always lose to Niger, but not this time! Our tapioca pudding will have them in the palms of our hands! Death to the infidels!".

The war on Iraq, Hurricane relief efforts, the riots in France, the confirmation proceedings of Judge Alito,and Bird Flu should be the world's news priorities and MUST be reported in an unbiased fashion, but the differences in journalistic integrity from station to station are astounding. And what are some of the top stories for today alone?

Cheerleaders Had Sex in Bar, Witnesses Say

Aniston Happy to Talk About Her Dog

Not that you news stations would listen to me or even come across this blog, but just in case -

To those who report the news on a daily basis-

Please, please, pretty please. I know you get paid too much for any of you to actually care about what goes on in the world, but if you could remember a few things, it would make an absolute world of difference -

You are not an elected politician. Therefore, do not interject your own political beliefs and opinions into your stories. Your desk is not your soapbox, your job is to be a clean slate.

If there's a natural disaster (i.e. hurricane) about to hit dry land, don't send a reporter to just stand outside to get beaten by the rain and forces to then proclaim "Wow, it's windy out here!" You don't say.

I do not want to see any of your side talents included in your reports. That means no singing Lisa Loeb.

If you book a conservative opinion for a story, get a liberal to counteract those opinions.

Stop interviewing celebrities. They are the absolute antithesis to anything moral or relevant to today's society. I do not need or want the political opinions of someone who makes more $ than the third world countries they beg us to support.

Is a John Williams symphony really necessary during the opening credits? No, so remove it!

When in doubt, shut up and read from the teleprompter!


UGH

Could It Be?

Could it be that some possible BIG changes are in store? Could I be willing to change from-

Pine Trees to Palm Trees?

The Swedish, Norweigan, German ancestry to Spanish?

Land of 10,000 lakes to Land of Governer Schwarzenegger?

"Minnesota Nice" to "Can I Give you a Reference to a Good Plastic Surgeon?"

Hennepin County to Orange County?

Missisippi River to Pacific Ocean?

Ice Fishing to Surfing?

Uff Da

This is going to take some major internal preparation.

Ten Years

The "Sermonator" brought up a very interesting point in one of his lessons today. He stated that if ten years ago anyone could see their future as it is today that person would be very suprised to see the outcome. In some cases, NOTHING would have been as predicted! How true!
When I was 13 years old my plans by the time I would reach 23 were as follows -

- Join the air force.
- After leaving the air force, run for a people-elected government position or become a lawyer.

In just five years, shortly before graduating high school, oh how those plans changed! They now were -

- Attend and finish my first round of college to become a music education teacher.
- Possibly get a graduate degree at Purdue.

In 2 years, all of those had vanished with the wind. I've now become a temp worker, after trying to keep a long-term and successful career in a law firm which obviously didn't work. And in the past 5 years alone, including going back and forth from college, I've moved 13 TIMES. How in the world did this fit in with all my hopes and dreams? Well, it didn't at all!

But I've realized something very incredible. I'm in God's hands throughout all of this. All these changes could have happened as a matter of protection from who knows what. God's means are completely beyond my understanding, but that's OK! I realize that if my life had no purpose, it wouldn't be. Why would our God keep us alive, breath by breath if would all lead to a pointless existence? We all have a definite purpose but because it's future is unseen we tend to get frustrated and/or lose faith (something I've been guilty of recently).

When life seems uncertain, scary, and uncomprehensible, STOP. Take a breath. Pray and pray often. Since when has God ever worked according to our own timetable? If He did that, it would undermine His own power. Remember that we are each clay in his hands, literally formed from this very earth. That clay is constantly being formed to something workable in his plan.

We're just not there yet!

My Zoo Sucks, But I'm Still Charging Admission

Does anyone remember the film, "Jerry Maguire"? If so, you may recall the scene where Mr. Cruise (I know psychiatry!) is sitting on the couch, drunk, chatting with his soon-to-be wife's child, played by Jonathan Lipnicki. In the middle of this non-sensical conversation, the kid perks up and says "I wanna go to the zoo! Let's go to the zoo!". Whatever happened to that kid? I wanna know, because that kid needs a punch in the face. Wait, sorry there, hormones are acting crazy......the guy who wrote that line needs a punch in the face. I LOVE CHILDREN! So for now, Mr. Lipnicki, you are safe....until the day "Like Mike 2" comes to theaters.

Recently, I've been called a zoo-keeper. Why a zookeeper? Well, my apartment has turned into the perfect space to witness mice, bats and caterpillars in their "natural" environment. A couple of weeks ago as I'm walking to my apartment I notice something sticking to the hallway wall. What is it? A bat, and not a tiny one. I thought it would transform into Nosferatu at any given second. The next day it had disappeared.

Shortly after Nosferatu's unwelcomed visit, I noticed short little brown lines on my apartment walls and ceiling. Because my eyesight isn't that great and because my walls are pretty high, I had assumed that they were cracks beginning to develop. The next day about 10 more "cracks" arrived. It wasn't until I had stood on a chair and stretched as close as I could to see these cracks that I had realized the misconception. These were not cracks, but caterpillars. To this day I cannot find their entry point into the apartment. That was two weeks ago, and more and more of these creatures show up at a rate of 7 per day.

Then on the friday before labor day, I sat down at the computer to relax and enjoy the start of my three-day weekend when I heard the undeniable sound of scratching behind the oven and fridge. That means only one thing: MICE. I got up from my chair and reached for a flashlight to see one of the critters walk smack-dab onto a sticky trap and start to squeak. Only it's back side was stuck, so it tried to drag itself across my kitchen floor with its front, tiny paws. Finally after contorting its body into ungodly ways it gave up and rested by my oven, where it began to chew on the oven sides. "Please chew through a gas line and take this building up and away!", were my thoughts. So I stayed with relatives that weekend, hoping that it would die before I got home that next tuesday. Luckily it did.

Then on the following friday, I came back to the apartment to check things out. About 25 caterpillars on my walls? Check. The unmistakeable smell of rodents, possibly dead ones in the walls or my A/C vent? Check. I walked on the carpet and heard "EEEEEE!" What the heck!? Is there a mouse underneath the carpet and I just happen to be squishing the poor creature? No, I didn't see any tremors (or Kevin Bacon). Walked a few more steps in another direction - "EEEEE!". $%%#!@)#)!)%$%%#!@)#)!)% Then some plastic bags on the floor by my countertop started to rustle. I'm beginning the think that the ghost of "Little Mousie Chews My Oven" has taken over the place.

In the meantime, I'm staying with relatives until moving day this saturday (CAN'T WAIT! AAAAH!). Got home today to see that the caterpillars are still coming, and finding solace in making little cocoons in my bedspread. That would have been nice to know before I took a quick nap in there yesterday. FRICKING DEMON MOUSE CATERPILLER NOSFERATU BUILDING!

The managers are going to start showing my apartment to potential residents soon. I'm hoping that when they enter the room that a giant winged bat-rat with red eyes, its mouth full of caterpillars lunges at them. That or maybe I'll borrow the neighbor's cat (the building is a no-pets building) to crap on the floor. Any suggestions?

Today He Gave Me...

Today He Gave Me...

Man, I Love "The Onion"

"War on String May Be Unwinnable, Says Cat General"

Michael Bay's Rant on "March of the Penguins"

City Perks

Living in a rather large city definitely has its benefits. Lots of shopping, restaurants, entertainment, colleges, sports teams and places to work. Some of the non-permanent benefits include the occasional concert, traveling plays and musicals, prominent speakers, and presidential visits (especially during election years). And once in a rare while, big-name celebrities will come here to work on films. Most recently Lindsay Lohan, Kevin Kline, Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin and Woody Harrelson spent several weeks in St. Paul for a feature film on Garrison Keillor. This past winter Mr. Harrelson, Sissy Spacek and Charlize Theron spent about the same amount of time on a film in Northern MN. Today was my first witness of a celebrity in downtown Minneapolis. And might I say that if all the following encounters are like this one, I'll take a definite pass on rubbing elbows with any of them again.

When getting ready to head out the door for work every weekday, I happen to listen to a local popular radio station that has a hilarious morning show. Yes, sometimes it can be a little crude, but most of it is in good taste. Their annual april fool's day pranks on listeners are enough to get you hooked. Today I was about to head out the door when one of the radio personalities announced that they were about to give out 3rd row tickets to a big-name concert this weekend. The only way someone could win them today was if their intern, Crisco, happened to talk with you and proposition you to do something in return for the tickets.

Well, today happened to be the day when Crisco was walking downtown, about 4 blocks from my apartment building. What was his offered proposition to any taker? In order to get these tickets, you had to pee yourself. See, apparently in some southern state very recently, this electronics store had a tremendous sale of 4-year old MAC laptops for $50. Obviously a stampede ensued so one woman had a brilliant idea that she could save her spot in line if she wet herself. So why wouldn't this twin cities station think it was a fabulous idea?

NO, I DID NOT PEE MYSELF. Get that horrible thought out of your head. I had enough time today to hear Crisco get refused flat-out by one woman and then set on my path to work. Wouldn't you know it, about 2 blocks from the building I look ahead and see Mr. Crisco on a cell phone (his communication with the station personalities) and two women standing to his side. These women looked extremely professional, clean-cut, but very young. So because of the latter fact, why wouldn't they agree to peeing in front of a perfect stranger? I heard enough of their conversation on the walk past that it made my skin crawl. "Oh, they way we would do it would be clean, it wouldn't take much time at all!". BLECH.

Oh the things people will do nowadays.

Remind Me Again...

..As to why I hate dating. Based on my current preferences, here's what I must do in order to meet my 'soul mate' (as if there ever were such a thing). Might I mention that this is BULLCRAP!

Your probability coefficient: 4.52578700220433E-10.

You have to meet 2,209,560,458 American single males who are between 21 and 33 years old.

They also have to meet these religious requirement(s):
- Protestant
- Other Christian

Note: We only have religion statistics for ALL American singles. Therefore, your religion probability was excluded.

You might have to move.


HMM, yeah I think I may have to move if it is necessary to meet a quarter of the world's population before I die.

My Soldier

Hey guys, if you have the time but don't know how to help out soldiers overseas, here's an idea. All you have to do is WRITE A LETTER. Sign up at the link below and you will be assigned your very own soldier. All the soldiers appreciate these letters so much. I've just finished my very first letter and will put it in the mail tomorrow. And don't worry, this is NOT a scam. It is 100% completely FREE, but they do suggest a $10 donation, which is not required to sign up. A donation envelope comes with your sign-up letter, "My Soldier" bracelet, and soldier contact information. This is a great and very cheap idea for church groups or elementary schools. All the information you need is at -

http://www.mysoldier.com/

Musical Bummer

Last month, my church worship pastor informed me that they were in need of some upcoming offering music for the month of august. I decided to sign up for a clarinet solo, even though the music was not yet decided. The church pianist and I had an initial meeting to decide what would be best to play, and to decide if a prelude peice was also needed. We eventually chose two songs - "God and God Alone" for the prelude and "Great is the Lord" for an offering peice, both for solo clarinet. I was especially excited about "Great is the Lord". It is a popular song written by Michael W. Smith, my favorite gospel artist. A very strong, intense and undeniably moving contemporary song that accomplishes what a great hymn also does - gives glory to God and praises His name. From the moment I heard this song, I've loved it and have had a dream to play it on any instrument for an offering. This has been an 8-year goal.

I had about 4 weeks to practice these songs and did so at least a couple of times a week for a 1/2 hour each time. Yesterday the accompianist and I met for a final practice which lasted over an hour. The big performances were set to happen today and although I was extremely nervous and way too critical of myself already (What if I squeak? I sound too strained on the high notes! AH, I can't get all the trills!), it was thrilling. A lot of hard work went into these songs, mainly because they are so well known and I didn't want to butcher them in front of an entire congregation. After our group band rehearsal this morning, I decided not to go to our regular coffee so the songs could be played through at least one more time. Sounded good. I walked around and saved my breath, didn't talk to anyone, said a few words of encouragement and just tried to keep myself as relaxed as possible.

Then it was the big moment. I got up on stage and began to play the prelude. It went great, way better than I had expected and I was at least happy to not have run out of air. There was still quite some time before the offering, so I sat down and again tried to reassure myself that everything would go well. Church announcements came and went. Then it was the recap of children's summer bible school and a very adorable song, complete with stomping feet and clapping hands and flying up into trees (not literally but lyrically, mind you). All of this was completely enjoyable until the kids started to exit the stage.

My eyes were literally about to bulge from their sockets when I witnessed three kids work their way between the performance microphone and the music stand holding my clarinet and sheet music. The stand began to waver and had stopped completely when another person bumped into it. The stand fell backwards, sending the clarinet bouncing off the piano behind it and dropping to the floor with a loud thud. It took all the self-control I could muster in order not to yell "SON OF A %(@)$!". While someone else picked up the stand, I crawled behind the piano to pick up the clarinet and inspect that everything was OK. No broken reed- GOOD! No cracked plastic - GOOD! But wouldn't you know it, the only button that is absolutely necessary to play every note except one was jammed open and unmoveable. By the way, this was the second time an instrument of mine has been dropped on stage and broken. My saxophone was dropped in plain view of the entire congregation once. Now three of the notes won't play.Luckily at the time of this accident, the audience was being entertained with a summer bible school slideshow. They didn't see my face flush red, walk over to the accompanist now sitting at the organ and say "My horn won't play, you will have to come up with your own offering music". AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How annoying! So the accompianist eventually just played the piano part for "Great is the Lord" by herself, while I sat there looking and feeling like an idiot while the entire congregation was wondering why another instrumentalist wasn't up there, as the bulletin had said would happen.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!! Just want to get that out in the open.

So now my peice of crap instrument is totally incapacitated and in desperate need of repair. Fortunately, the church offered to pay any repair costs and to ante up for an actually professional clarinet stand. But let me say, just for the heck of it, one more time -

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
I'm going to eat an entire pizza now.

Yes, I Am a Hick

Yes, I am a country hick. A momentarily displaced hick, but a hick nonetheless. After living in the cities for what seems to be a century so far, I have come to embrace my hick-ness. These engraved characteristics and behaviors has previously been items of shame, but not anymore. So for now, before I forget, I will lay out the reasons as to why I'm proud to be a hick.

- I like Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks.
- In my former farm community, my high school was in the middle of a corn field, nine miles from the nearest town.
- It is possible at night to see the stars! LOTS of them! Can you do that in the city? I think not!
- Traffic Jams only occur when five vehicles are stuck behind a John Deere.
- When having a bonfire outside, it is necessary to keep your food in check so a coyote doesn't come from behind and grab it.
- Having school cancelled because of fog is always great!
- I can drive a pickup truck and not look like an idiot.
- When driving down the highway, you can tell what kind of farms are around just by the smell.
- When I graduated high school, I knew the first AND last names of every student in my grade.
- Homes, on average, cost $40,000. My first home in the country was three stories with a basement and large garage. It cost my mom $16,000.
- In certain towns, there are more bat problems than mouse problems.
- When giving directions to a farm, you say things like "Go 1.6 miles NE, turn left at the big blue silo, then go .7 miles W"
- Farm driveways are a 1/2 mile long.
- Our idea of fun "back in the day" was to drive to abandoned farms and just chat.
- When traveling to the homeland this past weekend, I was ridiculed for owning a cell phone.
- The only planes flying overhead are crop sprayers.

"El Autobus" - Act One, Scene 3

"Oh Crap!"

About 20 or so cars in two lanes of traffic wait at the 394 entrance lights, unknowingly sitting oh so patiently while the 20-ton monster approaches from behind.

Ms. Smith clasps onto the handrail next to her and closes her eyes, turning into an standing ostrich with it's head planted in the ground. "If I can't see what's going to happen, then it won't happen, right? RIGHT?!"

"HEY! You should probably put all the stuff that's liable to fly underneath your seat or something, this doesn't look good.", warns Ms. Smith's companion.

Ms. Smith, with her eyes still slammed shut says, "Is this really happening? Is everyone else completely oblivious to this?"

Suddenly, a series of violent jerks causes Ms. Smith's eyes to pop open. Miraculously, BAAB has realized that she has a more than one pedal underneath her steering wheel and decides that just for the heck of it, just this one time, she will see what happens when she presses on the big flat one to the left of the gas pedal. "WHOA! Guys, look at this! When I push this one here, it makes the bus go slower! I should experiment with this one more often! This is AWESOME!"

The preceding words cause everyone on the ride to stand up and ferociously clap. "WOOOH!", they scream. But since BAAB is also completely deaf in her right ear, she cannot hear the exclamations of approval. "UUUUH, this pedal is hard". With that, she slams on the brake. Those who were standing have now received a very unwanted and very unexpected version of the heimlich manuever.

Ms. Smith begins to cry. "I never pictured my deathbed to be a smelly, sticky bus that was likely bred from the depths of Mordor. I wanted to die warm in my bed after having a full, happy and experienced life!"

Suddenly a low, strong voice bellows, "Relax, will ya? Sheesh!"

"What the...?" Who are you?" Ms. Smith recoils in horror to see a large, muscular man dressed all in white. A man, who until five seconds ago was nowhere to be seen. His face is as clear as porcelain. A bright yellow glow eminates from his pores.

"I am the Angel Gabriel, and I was sent by God to spare the lives of you people. There was a glitch in the "plan" upstairs. The Angel Michael was playing Minesweeper on the "plan" computer and accidentally typed in "Death by Bus" instead of "Death by Sub". Luckily, I know Tae Kwon Do."

"What? Why is Tae Kwon Do necessary now?", cries Ms. Smith.

Gabriel screams, "JUDO CHOP!" and takes his open hand to BAAB's neck. Her head drops like a brick. He pulls BAAB's body from the front and drags her to the back of the now floating bus.

A small boy sitting on his mother's lap turns to her face, excitedly. "Mommy, I just saw the Angel Gabriel punch out an old woman! Score!"

The laughing Angel says, "You think that was cool, then watch this! Have any of you seen the movie 'Back to the Future?'".

With that, the bus starts to gain air speed. Within the time span of 10 seconds, the vehicle travels from the crowded entrance to 394 in Golden Valley to it's final stop on Hennepin Ave downtown. In amazement, Ms. Smith notices that people waiting at the stop have not been affected by the sudden appearance of the floating jet bus. In fact, it is as though nothing extraordinary has happened at all!

"Ok, peeps, this is your final stop! Get moving, I don't have time to stand around all evening!"

The passengers, all in utter confusion, slowly start towards the open doors. Well, all of them except Ms. Smith. With her mouth dropped to the floor, she achingly stands up and paces to Gabriel. Her steps are as confident as those of a toddler who has just learned to walk.

"So you are an Angel?"
"Yes".
"And you know how and when I'm going to die?"
"Yes".
"Can I ask you something extremely important?"
"Go ahead."
"Am I going to heaven or hell?"

Gabriel stares at Ms. Smith with a strong intensity. Ms. Smith feels a change in her entire body, as though every emotion she's ever felt are now completely co-existing in their strongest phases.

"Now you know the answer to your question, right?"
"Yes, for how long?"
"For the remainder of your time on this bus. Now go home, my child."

Ms. Smith slowly turns around and exits off the bus. Her first step hits the concrete sidewalk and the numbness and confusion that has filled every day of her entire life engulfs her mind with such a force that it makes her fall to the ground. She completely forgets the question she posed to Gabriel and the answer she received just moments before. A nearby stranger rushes to her side and pulls her up. "Are you OK?, she says.

"Yeah, did you see what happened with the bus?"
"What bus?"
"The freaking bus that just floated to this stop! The bus I just tripped off from!"
"That guy's dog ran in front of you. You fell pretty hard. I haven't seen a bus in the past five minutes or so."

Ms. Smith frantically turns her head around to examine the scene. The lady was right, there isn't a bus in sight. She looks to the corner of the street and sees a short man wearing black shades. In his tense hands, he grasps a thick and taut leash to which an excited, barking dog is attached to the end. The man yells, "I'm so sorry, he just gets playful sometimes!"

The lady who helped her up says, "Are you sure you are OK? Maybe you got a concussion."
"No, really, I'm OK. You can let me go now. I live blocks away from here. I just want to go home. Thanks for your help."
"Ok, take it easy, will ya?"
"Ok".

Befuddled, Ms. Smith takes a moment to make sure all her belonging are intact. She starts a careful and confusing way home. Her stomach begins to grumble. Noticing the yellow glow of the Subway restaurant sign on her right, she decides to grab a bite to eat. All those miracles in one day can make a person hungry, you know.

"El Autobus" - Act One, Scene 2

Ms. Smith has now found a seat in which to hunker down for her ride home. For now, she is relatively comfortable, as the ride hasn't merged onto the interstate or even a major street. She decides to make the best of this next minute 1/2 in the best way she knows how - to pray. "Please, don't let me die!"

The bus, after turning the corner onto the first major street has now arrived at it's first stop since Ms. Smith's arrival. Ten people who are obviously very warm and cranky, creep up the tiny bus stairway and make their way towards a seat. Two women who appear to be good friends or at least work associates, wink at Ms. Smith. They know how stressful this ride can make anyone on here, especially Ms. Smith. They jokingly close their eyes and make the sign of the cross. All of this is unknown to "Blind as a Bat" driver, as the two women are sitting directly behind her chair and the glass wall barricade between them. The two women lean over and whisper to Ms. Smith and point:

"You should sit here, behind her. Then you can't see ahead of you, only just to the left."
"Thanks! That actually sounds like a good idea. I'll do that"

Ms. Smith makes her way to the left side and picks a seat, just as the bus has started to move again. BAAB unexpectedly and quickly swerves to the furthest left lane and if she hadn't noticed the man in the red taurus behind her, she would have undoubtedly pushed him up and over the concrete island. Instead of checking the traffic behind her and safely moving to the right to let the taurus pass, she instead speeds up (as quickly as a 20-ton vehicle can speed up in one block) and holds her emergency horn down until they both approach the double-laned exit to 394. While both of them are sitting and waiting for the exit light to turn green, the red taurus creeps up beside BAAB and flips the bird. BAAB laughs, pulls the microphone to her mouth and yells over the P.A.,

"DID YOU SEE THAT? HE FLIPPED ME OFF. THAT MAKES ME WANT TO PUSH HIM INTO THE CONTRETE WALL. SOMETIMES I TRY TO SCARE THEM SO THEY GET THE MESSAGE AND LEAVE ME ALONE. SOME PEOPLE DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE, I TELL YA"

Ms. Smith frantically searches in her work bag to find a pen and the closest thing to a peice of paper. She scribbles the bus number, exact time and bus route, location and double-checks to see that the Transit Line is in the address book of her cell phone. She then looks ahead (big mistake) through the wide front window to witness the trouble that is about to ensue.

The bus is approaching 394 at break-neck speed while remaining traffic is at a standstill.

Ms. Smith looks over at her two bus associates and says,

TO BE CONTINUED...

"El Autobus" - Act One, Scene 1

The following is based on actual events. Although some of this is completely made up, unfortunately, a lot of it isn't. Some of the verbal exchange is actually written as close to verbatim as possible. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

ACT I , SCENE 1

We find Ms. Smith standing on the street corner across from her work place, patiently waiting for her evening bus ride home. After a while, she pulls out her cell phone to check on the time and realizes that her ride is late. Extremely late. Ms. Smith starts to fidget, shifting her balance from foot to foot and occasionally looking back to see if there's any sign of a bus heading her direction. Another minute passes. And another. Her other companions who are also waiting for the same bus decide to each pull out another cigarette, figuring that they still have enough time on their hands to get in another drag. Finally, as Ms. Smith concludes that she would be better off going back inside to cool off and catch the next bus (she knows some of her future already) for a safer, calmer ride, she hears the rumbling of the metro bus, the squeaking brakes, and sees her ride pull up to the stop. Ms. Smith, as calmly as possible, steps inside and pulls out her bus fare ticket. She slides it into the meter and wishes that all will hopefully go well. The meter spits out the ticket, calling it 'misread', refusing to deduct any amount from the remaining $14 left on the card. The driver, an older woman with long white hair, glasses as thick as her obvious southern accent, watches this event and says:

"Did you take that ticket in to the metro office?"
"No, I didn't know I had to do that"
"The next time the meter declines that ticket, I'm not going to let you on this bus"
"Fine. Though this is your fault.
"Why?"
"This ticket was working perfectly until I got on your route home yesterday evening. When I put the ticket into the slot, your meter sucked it up, paused, spit it out and sucked it up again. Ever since last night, I can't get this ticket to work properly."
"Well, it's not my fault"
"Yes, it is."
"You don't have to get angry with me, I didn't do anything."
"I'm not even close to angry, don't put emotions into my head. You are telling me that I have to take this ticket into a metro transit office because your meter screwed it up? What time does the office downtown open?"
"8 AM"
"I have to be here at 7:30 in the morning. What time does it close?
"5 PM"
"I can't leave work early. This bus doesn't even pick me up until quarter after five. And I know the office isn't open on the weekends, right?"
"That is correct."
"So I have to waste this ticket I bought for $20 that still has $14 left on it and buy another one? Seems like a good scam to me."
"You don't have to get upset."
" I'm not upset, drive your freaking bus home. Just don't kill me while doing it."
"SIT DOWN!"
"Whatever. You better watch your back. I have an exotic spiky fruit I'm going to chuck at your head when you least expect it."

SCENE TWO WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW. FEEL FREE TO INSERT ANY CREATIVE IDEAS AS TO WHERE THIS STORY WILL END UP. I WILL, HOWEVER, STILL INSERT SOME ACTUAL EVENTS (ALTHOUGH NAMES AND PLACES WILL BE CHANGED) TO SHOW THE RIDICULOUSNESS OF MY DAILY ROUTE HOME. IF YOU ARE CONFUSED AS TO WHY THIS SUBJECT IS BEING DISCUSSED, PLEASE REFER TO THE PREVIOUS POST ENTITLED, "OTTO, PLEASE". THANK YOU.

Through the Voice of a Child

Yesterday I went to a BBQ in South Minneapolis. The owners of the home have two children, a 2-week baby and a two-year old boy. I'll now offer the translation of certain words through this boy's understanding. You'll be amazed at the clarity.

vicky = "geeky"
ellie = "ewee"
car = "carrrrrr"
help = "uuuuuuhhh"
Jean = "nini"
green tractor = "geen gacker"
loader = "lolo"
kittie = "kiggee"
chair = "tear"
baby = "bobby"
shoe = "soo"

It all makes so much sense, doesn't it?

Otto, Please!

Ok, so i just starting working at this place in Golden Valley, which requires me to ride the bus to and from home. No biggie, as I've ridden the bus MANY a time. Compare those costs to what it would be with a car and insurance, and it saves hundreds, if not thousands of $ a year!
Anyway. So the first time I hopped on the route home I stepped onto unknown (and soon to be obvious) unsafe territory.
Picture this bus driver in your head: an old lady, somewhere in her 60's. Long hair as white as snow. Glasses as thick as a the bottom of a glass bottle. Now assume as to what her driving talents could possibly be, based on those facts alone. Now factor in that her driving teacher was most likely Evil Knievel.
I have never been so terrified as a bus passenger as I am now. Hopefully her shift will change very soon and she'll be assigned to a new route. I've heard that all the drivers rotate every two weeks or so.
I hopped on the bus thursday evening, sat in a comfy seat and assumed that this would be a nice relaxing 10-minute ride home. Think again. She would NOT stop talking! Not only that, but everyone could hear it because she moved the microphone to her mouth so it was broadcast over the P.A. system. She gave a 5-minute lecture on how the bus rates would go up by a quarter the next day. Then the remaining 5 were her slamming on the brakes, cutting off traffic on the interstate (even other busses!), yelling in her microphone to tell other drivers to get out of the way (as if they could even hear her at all), and honking the horn at just about anything that seemed to move in front of, beside or blocks away. AAAAH!
During today's ride I just sunk my nails into the foam seat ahead of me and prayed. Occasionally, that prayer was interrupted by silent screaming and gasping but I think He got the drift. I had expected to arrive downtown to hear screaming on the sidewalk and flying baby carriages, but luckily that didn't happen. YET. Ironically, after hopping off the mobile tunnel of terror I felt the sudden need to see "War of the Worlds". I highly recommend it!
Where's Otto the bus driver when you need him? He would be a vast improvement.

...And Darkness Covered the Earth

Ok, So I'm sitting here checking my e-mail and such and decide to check my blog when all of a sudden, my apartment immediately turns pitch black. I look outside and the clouds are a turquoise. What I originally thought were skateboarders messing around outside turned out to be a continuous stream of thunder that has so far lasted for 10 minutes straight. A minute later, I decide to gather up my courage and witness that the street in front of my building is now a river. Checking startribune.com, I see that this severe storm has already ripped through the western portion of the states, creating funnel clouds and ripping the roofs off several homes. Currently, the wind is so strong that combined with the rain, its actually visible. The rain sounds as though a bunch of kids are throwing pebbles at my window. Lightening has now arrived and the thunder is so strong that my lamp flickers and the building shakes with every boom. Amazing how a single storm can make you feel so insignificant, hmm?
Okay, I should probably sign off before the electricity cuts out or I get zapped.........ASRTOL;IUJAWERLKJASDFLK;JASDFASJ;L


DKFJASLD;KFJAS!(@(!(@

OW!

The Puppy Peave

Why are pets, more specifically, dogs, allowed to be treated, dressed and fed like human beings? Why do some people have this scary obsession which is completely irrelevant to the dog, except in the case for that dog to be horribly spoiled?
A few weeks ago, a dear friend of mine decided to go puppy shopping. After looking online in the classified ads, she saw a specific breed they wanted and decided to drive 6 hours one-way to IOWA for this puppy. Once the puppy was in their possession, she forgot one crucial aspect to having this dog: checking with her apartment manager to see if she could actually have it in her building. After having the dog in her place for over two weeks, she discovered that it was not an option. The apartment manager who lives DIRECTLY above her inevitably discovered the dog and told her she had until noon the next day to get the dog out. So this friend MOVED. INTO ANOTHER BUILDING THAT DOESN'T ACCEPT PETS. The manager for that building decided to give in to her request, so she was extremely lucky in that regard. Ever since that move, the behavior has been shocking.
Why let a puppy drink pop? Why let a dog lick your face after it has licked its genitals for over five minutes? What is the point of leaving someone a phone message to impersonate and bark as your DOG? Why bring your untrained dog into someone's newly carpeted and furnished home, when it could have stayed with a friend who was more than happy to take care of it? This woman's family even threw a 'puppy shower' for this dog. This same family has also admittedly given their pets BAPTISMS. WHY?! A dog cannot tell its own tail apart from another dog's, but apparently it can accept Jesus as its savior and promise to live its own little doggy life in accordance with Christ's. Smart dog, I tell ya.
All I can say up to this point is that if I decide to get a dog, it's name will be "DOG". It will eat the dog food that has been placed in its appropriate dish on the floor and nothing else. It will drink tap water from another dish on the floor. If I have a home at that point, it will sleep outside. Maybe in a dog house, maybe not. You don't see wild dogs living in little wooden homes out in the fields, do you? Who knows, maybe PETA will get on that and create a fundraiser for that purpose alone.
When my dog dies (and it will, people, dogs are not immortal!), there shall be no funeral. I'll use the $ I spent on dog food for the past 13 years or so and save it up to buy a didgeridoo or something.

But I'm not bitter, really!

Weirdness

It may be the weather, it may be the season, but whatever is going on.... things are weird. It's incredibly warm and freaking humid outside and I hate it. My only wall that faces the outside world is practically a giant window, which in turn is acting like a giant solar panel every morning. My A/C is cranked down to what it says is 45 degrees but is actually at least 75. IT'S HOT! And to show just how weird things have become for me in the last few weeks, here's a recap-

- Bought the new backstreet boys cd, and have already listened to it in it's entirety. Back in the good ol' days of 1997-2000, my bedroom walls were plastered with their posters and magazine cut-outs and had almost every video they ever made and albums from australia and germany and japan.......but now I'm 23. What's going on? And I actually like the new CD! WHOA!

-Cab drivers have taken over my apartment building. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. LITERALLY. They sit, waiting to pounce on the valet guy once he blows his whistle across the street at the Hyatt. They congregate outside the entrance, they stare at everyone who passes. I can't wait until road construction is finished and they move back to their original place a block over.

-I got my dad's 401K check in the mail, amounting to a little under $600. He was alive for 46 years and had a total amount in a 401K of under $1600. Now I can never say that I didn't get anything out of the relationship, but an actual father-daughter relationship would have been nice.

-My friends who live a few blocks over have started to act and speak like puppies. More on that subject in a new post, which shall be entitled "the puppy peave".

-One of my dearest friends from high school was married a couple of weeks ago. this required travel to my hometown of madison. enough said.

Freaking hey, why is everything feeling so wierd?

Catching Up

Wow, it's amazing how the time flies when you're on a break from everything. Job interview after job interview has occurred, but no success yet. I could feel last week that my mood was beginning to falter and perhaps that a little depression had set in. So I did nothing all last week, practically nothing. Granted, I did apply for a few more positions but decided that all of this searching was more draining than inspiring. Thank God for friends. He decided that my reward for calling up a friend to vent and cry had earned the priviledge to a pool party and a fabulous evening with a wonderful family. Then, ironically enough, during this pool party I met several people who offered to be a referral/reference and who would also refer my resume to several open positions in their department. I have a few more interviews this upcoming week and the next. The unemployment office recommended that I get internet access at home and to look at my current job search as an actual job, by putting in at least 30 hours a week for that purpose alone. So today internet access was hooked up and I'm now fully recharged and ready to apply. BRING IT ON!

Terry - Pt. 2

Well, I told you this would finally be posted. And it only took several months. Argh, I need to get the internet set up on my computer, and quick!

R.I.P., Terry. May I one day be able to forget-

--Those who believed that the persons "for life" were comparable to the Taliban.
--Those who believed that placing suspicious packages outside courtrooms could influence a judicial decision (regardless of what it was).
--The Judges who repeatedly refused to re-insert Terry's tube, because it wasn't "constitutional"
--The liberal media who used their tarnished clout to contort the truth and then air their political stance to all their viewers.

Until then, all I remember the best are

--Those who rallied outside your room in favor to save your life.
--Those who were arrested for breaking the law in order to get you a simple glass of water.
--Your unbelievable family, who fought for your life every step of the way.
--The Bush family, who while recognizing the importance enacting in a 'constitutional' manner, realized that life should always get the benefit of the doubt.
--Those who prayed for your peace of mind, your strength and your RIGHT to life.

hey again

Yeah, I know it's been a while since the last, but I've been busy with stuff. Really! It took me almost 10 minutes to wash my hair the other day. Crazy. Oh yeah, there was also the 'finding a job before my rent is due' bit. So what's going on with you? I'll try and find a topic before my time on here is up. Oops, too late!

By My Cousin

This is a dictation of what my cousin is telling me to type. Just for the heck of it. Here we go, unedited and all -

I don't know what to say
That was a joke
stop typing that!

Ummm

this is boring

my brother's sweatshirt smells like dog pee

*ringing phone*

Hello?
Mrs. Rob? Who the heck is that?

Supercalifragalisticexpealidocious, even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you sing it loud enough, you'll really sound petrocious, Supercalifragalisticexpealidocious!

Hmm, I wonder how many letters are in Supercalifragalisticexpealidocious. Is Supercalifragalisticexpealidocious the longest word in the world? Let's count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35!

WOW

I always thought it was 32.

See ya, Ellie

Favorite Movie Quotes

Some of these are paraphrased, as I can't remember the wording exactly. And yes, this is all from my very own memory. Enjoy, and add your favorite movie quotes as well!

From: Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail -

"If I went 'round, saying some moistened bing had lobbed a simitar at me, they'd put me away!"

"You're King, eh? Well, I didn't vote for you!"

"There's some lovely filth down here!"

"Are you saying that coconuts migrate?!"

"Your mother was a hamster and your father, smelt of elderberries"

"Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!"

"Run away, Run away!"

(Reading a carving on a wall)
"What do you mean, the Castle "AAAARGH"?
Well, he must have died while carving it."

"I'm not dead!......I'm getting better........I think I'll go for a walk........I feel happy, I feel happy!"

Why do witches burn?
Because they're made out of wood?
GOOD!
So how do we tell whether she is a witch?
Build a bridge out of her!

AAH, she turned me into a newt!.........I got better.

I blow my nose at you, sons of a silly person!

What is your favorite color?
Blue! NO! AHHHHH! (while being thrown into the gorge of eternal peril)

Brave Sir Robin ran away... Bravely ran away, away!
No! I didn't!

Greetings to you, Tim the Enchanter

GOD: What are you doing?
ARTHUR: We're averting our eyes, O Lord
GOD: Well don't! Oh it's like those miserable psalms, they're so depressing....now KNOCK IT OFF!

The Black Knight always triumphs!
Come back here, I'll bite your legs off!

Tis but a scratch!
A Scratch? Your arm's off!
I've had worse
You lie!
Come at me, you pansy!

We want...........A SHRUBBERY!

Then, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest WITH........A HERRING!!

Terry-Pt. 2 will soon be here

I know that I've promised to talk more about Terry Schiavo, but as of now - time is of the essence and is concurrently running out! Only 9 more minutes on this library computer. However, I'm in the midst of writing "Terry Pt. 2" and will publish it by next week. It's an infuriating subject for me and much must come out in the open or my head will explode. Feel free to post any comments on that issue here if you wish, and Pt. 2 will be here relatively soon.
Thanks for reading!

Mr. Pope

Crap, I just spent 20 minutes typing up a new post and lost it. IDIOT. So I'll start over with a new one.
Ever hear the saying "You learn something new every day"? Very true. Evidence of that was seen last night. As those of you who don't live in cave already know (If you can hook up the internet in a cave, then I'm very impressed!), Pope John Paul died last week. His funeral was yesterday in Rome. Quite the impressive turnout, as 300,000 pilgrims showed up. Once hearing that the Catholic Basilica in town would have a memorial, I decided that it would probably be a great learning experience to witness that, as I've never been to a Catholic service and had always wanted to see the inside of this building. So it was set that at 8pm on a Friday night, I would participate in the memorial service for Mr. Pope.
WOW. The Basilica was GORGEOUS. Marble, Iron, Gold, Steel, Cement Statues, yellow banners drooping from the ceiling, incredibly ornate and detailed glass windows. Wooden pews with kneeling pads. Words cannot explain how impressive this structure is. www.mary.org
Man, I hope that's the correct website.
I picked a pew near the rear of the church and sat behind this woman who had obviously never been there before. Either that or she's previously not been very observant. She turned her head to look up, down, to the side, and behind. Constantly. I don't blame her though, what a sight! Even people-watching was fun, seeing everyone bow and make the sign of the cross to the front of the church before taking their seat. Guilt trip No. 1. I didn't know to bow or make the sign.
Then just as I was ready for the service to begin, Screaming. No, wait. That was the choir. The first note was so high and sudden it scared me half to death. Once the notes changed though, it was gorgeous. Looking through the program, I could see that much more music would be performed tonight. And indeed there was. And indeed it was spectacular.
Then the procession. At least 30 people came from the front, either just to march, or to hold some object such as a giant cross, some kind of thing that looked like a portable circus tent, a red book with an eagle (which I later learned to contain the entire gospel), and two people were swinging incense back and forth through the aisles. I almost wished that the smoking ban for our County would include over-usage of incense, it was that strong. Guilt trip No. 2. Don't think like that, you're in church!
Then the service begain. It was difficult to understand sometimes. The echo was so present that singing along to hymns was frustrating. Many would sing along with the echo they heard, while the rest would sing to match the beat that organ was playing. It was like a very quick and sloppy round that made no musical sense whatsoever. Even the sermon echoed. Can you imagine trying to decipher "Th-th-this i-i-is i-i-i-in mem-or-or-ri-a-am of Po-po-pe J-j-john Pa-a-a-ul"? Guilt trip No. 3. See guilt trip No. 2.
Then communion, with the 3 prayers and responsive songs beforehand. Once all the music and prayers were finished, one of the priests would take a sip from the cup and bow. Eat bread, bow. Get covered with incense swung by a bystanding priest. Bow. Take the incense and swing it in front of the priest who just swung it in front of you. Bow. Swing the incense in the general direction of the mass in front of you. Bow. Oh yeah, the congregation had to bow with the priests as well. Then you would join a line, take a peice of bread and drink from a common cup. Then once you sat down, you were advised to move the kneeling pad down so you could kneel. Guilt trip No. 4. Didn't know I had to kneel. Man, this place makes you feel continually guilty. I guess that's the point though. We're not worthy to be with God, but we should show our gratitude continually through our gestures during worship.
Then the sing-a-long prayer. Although this time there was no bouncing beach ball over the words. Darn.
Procession (or Recession?)
End of service.
Wow, I've never participating in something like that before. And although I have great respect for the Catholic tradition (from growing up in a Lutheran background), I don't believe that I could ever become a Catholic. Just 1-1/2 hours in church and there were already 4 guilt trips!
Anyway, I know that my description doesn't give the Basilica or Catholicism the recognition it deserves, but I only have an hour on this library computer!
Adios

First Baptist Casino (Free Taco Tuesdays!)

As an attempt to raise interest (and donations) to the churches of Minneapolis, I propose the following changes and additions -

- Mariache band at front entrance, lead singer must have the name "Jesus", although it may be pronounced as "Hay-soos".

- Baptismal font/pool filled with jello. Many who have been baptised in the waters of J.C. have complained about the bitter chlorine taste. (can be frozen and used for "Virgin Mary Jello Shot Fridays"!)

-Slot machines will now replace the standard offering plates. Every attendant must place at least one coin in the machine before passing the bouncers and security guards to the only exit. (Not a necessary precaution, but needed to insure a bulky offering)

- "Stupid Pet Tricks" every other Sunday worship. Each show must have a dog that can hula-hoop.

- After every hymn, the organist must stand up and yell, "Who's down with the G-O-D?" Congregation should respond, "We Are, We Are! WOOOOO!" Disco balls and strobe lights can be lowered at this time.

- Communion should be comprised of only kool-aid and reeses peices. Pastor must say "My peace I bring to you, as we eat Reeses Peacees with the Lord"

- Must have teenage dancing troup on every hymn. Applicants should be ready to do round-offs, windmills, handstands and backflips on cue. Please, no "running man" or "tootsie roll".

-Weekly demolition derby with used church busses in parking lot. Note: Guests musts move vehicles beforehand.

This proposition, in my opinion, would drastically create a large influx of guests, therefore creating a larger interest in J.C. J.C. always loved a good party. If you have any comments, suggestions, or additions, please post in the comments. Thank you.

Do you smell that? My soul is burning. AAAAAAAAH!

(please note - I am a devoted and serious Christian. The above is in no way a serious proposal. If you must complain, you must therefore GET A LIFE!)

Hi Everyone!

Well, this is officially my first online blog.
What do you think? Yeah, so far it's crap. But hopefully it will improve with age, like wine. Or in my case, someone who's really old and doesn't know much. I don't drink, OK?! Sue me.
No, please don't.
Enough of this rambling crap, I'M GOING HOME!
adios
ellie

My pic....don't laugh :P

Terry

Hi All!

Wow, so this is a blog, huh? WOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. Ok, just had to get that out in the open. Won't happen again, I promise.
Well, with this being my very first blog, I thought to choose a topic which is very light-hearted, laugh-out-loud (LOL for those who speak the html dialect), freaking funny! No, I don't think I will. How about Terry Schiavo?
I'm sorry, but am I the last remaining person on earth who believes that every person regardless of handicap, gender, criminal background, ect., deserves life?
Over the lunch hour at work, while sitting with some co-workers at the table while watching CNN, a news brief appeared regarding Terry Schiavo, the woman whose husband and family have been going through every legal drama imaginable over the past 15 years in order to either take or save this woman's life. Her husband today got the ok to remove her feeding tube (and only life support) on March 15th. http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050225/ap_on_re_us/brain_damaged_woman_27
Since when is it ever OK to take a person's life? Apparently to a very opinionated co-worker, it's OK when she can't answer a question, feed herself, or hold up her own head. Yes, Terry is 'brain dead' (what a horrible term). Yes, Terry can not do much more than breathe on her own and show limited facial expressions. She depends on a feeding tube in order to survive.
The opinion which revolts me almost more than anything is that a handicapped life is a life not worth living at all. A Handicap=Dependence on Others=Weakness. Why does a justifiable dependence on a person or machine give others the right to relinquish a person of their dignity and ultimately in this case, a person's LIFE? My mother just had knee surgery on Wednesday. Her lack of mobility doesn't mean she is weak, but rather that she is dependent. Dependent on crutches, dependent on ice packs, dependent on medication, dependent on others' service.
Stephen Hawking cannot speak without a computer, but he's a scientific genius. Christopher Reeves couldn't move anything below his jaw, his accident and charity work influenced one of the most controversial debates for a presidential race in recent history. But because Terry cannot independently move her body or feed herself, her life is worthless. Her husband is trying to prove to the courts that every person has a constitutional right to die. It isn't a right, buddy, its a certainty. You just want to choose the time and place. How is this not murder, or even the launching point for legalized assisted suicide?
Do you know what will happen once Terry's feeding tube is removed. Her body will physically starve and die. Of course, she will be pumped with so much drugs that her brain will be unaware of it, but her body will know the difference. Her brain will tell her that everything's all right, her body will tell itself that Terry is stuck in the middle of a hot desert with no end in sight. I guess that murder isn't murder if it's a medically slow and unconsciously painless process.
Please comment. Pt 2 will soon follow.
May God bless EVERY life on this planet.