In Search of Pow.

Cowboy poetry... of the Future (in the Present)

2011-06-08T03:51:00.014-07:00

Willow fire, I hope YOU die in a fire.

While sitting down on this Tuesday night, thinking of work and maintaining the fight, my thoughts drifted off and to my delight, refocused again and I needed to write.

Write of the things I am grateful to know, blessed to have seen, and feel head to toe.

I have no clue as to why at this time, this entry I write is going to rhyme. I thought it’d be fun to challenge my mind, seek culture again, and see what I find.

Other events of the world are also to blame for why all these words are now sounding the same.

News traveled fast and caused me to stir, thinking of family and where they currently were. News of a fire and damages inflicted, caused memories to flow and thoughts were depicted of fun times as a family with dogs and friends running in meadows and hills with no end. Now scorched with black, the White mountains have changed, my heart sort of hurts, my dreams rearranged. I wanted forever to bring family and child to a place where the bears are still running wild. Where aspens grow tall and ferns cover the ground, this place is unique and until another is found, can never be matched in ways that astound.

Even as I write it continues to burn. What is lost however will only return. Cleaner and stronger, beauty arrives, to brighten the days and re-fill our lives. Fire has power to purge and make whole, the things that afflict us and break down the soul. I sometimes forget that God has control.

I …honestly cannot do this anymore. The rhyming was taking too long and it was WAY more difficult to express things. Maybe I’ll pick up my cowboy poetry when I’m an old man. Anyway, It seriously pains me to know that those meadows and forests up in that part of my state are now in flames. That’s where I live mentally all summer long, every summer, but actually get to be there physically for maybe 5 or 6 days of the year if I’m lucky. The really unfortunate thing is that the impacts on elk herds, trout stocks and so many other delicate aspects of nature in that region, will be affected for at LEAST 15 or so years. That means whenever I find a wifey and have kids they might not be able to appreciate it like I do. Eff.

I guess I’m only being selfish because those fires are nothing more than nature’s way of purification and cleansing. Too bad only because the tools living on the earth in about 150 years will be the privileged few that will see it as I did. The d-bags better love it. I just hope it’s contained soon and not get too huge. Why can’t crappy states that nobody likes get the landscape disfiguring events happen to them each year instead of flipping gorgeous AZ? Despite the White mountain’s heavenly and aesthetically pleasing attributes contributing to my overwhelming appreciating for them, they are also significant in a way that defines my roots as how I came to be where I am today.

My Great Great GREAT Grandfather homesteaded, farmed, and herded cattle in one of the small towns that dot the White Mountain countryside. It was there that the blood that fueled hard work tilling the land and scratching out a living coupled with unwavering dedication to God and country began to flow down the line and into my own veins 80 plus years before I was born. I hope that isn’t at all weird to say but it’s a fact that I recognize and am humbled and have a giant appreciation for. That same Great Great GREAT Grandfather served in the Mormon Battalion back in the day. Army strong AND LDS strong. Double deuce.

Northeastern AZ will always be a special part of my life and it makes me sad it’s on fire but because of a person and his family’s actions and lifestyle of labor and servive to God and the earth, not even fire can take away the gratitude I have and the legacy they left. That was the real reason I wanted to rhyme words when I started. I will always remember one Sunday morning having our church meeting under the pines way out in Vernon, AZ where I heard a relative recite some of his cowboy poetry. It was about our heritage and It rocked. It made me want to always remember to seek and follow the teachings of our Savior as well as wrestle steer to the ground. Someday I’ll be home. Cowboy up yall.

Mending fences is impossible without "men". Then it'd just be d'ing fences. And that sounds retarded. And I am Definately wearing a $90 Stetson AND a Volcom tee shirt at the same time.

Fishing at Big Lake... in June... After a snow storm

Kristen might not like this one...

Dakota, I miss you pup...

You'll be on my wall someday big papa.

Big Lake

Black River

Crescent Lake

I want to write a book so bad

2011-01-22T03:59:00.010-07:00

I have an amazing idea for a book but it’s going to take forever. So for now I’m just going to stick to my trusty blog. This post however, will have nothing to do with my future political and societal rants, ravings, and cures but will be about the amazing friends and family I have that keep me sane and inspired while I am physically not present to enjoy their actual and wonderful company.

I would like to express my gratitude for the amazing time in which we live where we are afforded such astounding technologies and means of communication without limits or boundaries. Wireless this’s, high definitioned that’s, and waterproof, shockproof, freezeproof, and dustproof everythings make it all possible. I remember my first compact disc also known as a “CD.” It was Kriss Kross: Totally Krossed Out (1992.) It played nonstop in my “CD player” which was located at the top of my "boom-box" above the “cassette” player which at all times had a tape of Garth Brooks: Ropin the Wind (1991.) I sincerely miss those days.

Going back to that era of my life span I am also reminded of another significant memory that has since then, exploded, advanced, and flourished among our generation. I had rented skis every winter since age 5 and had always been intrigued by the guys in funny hats that said bad words in the lift lines, smoked funny smelling cigarettes next to me on the lifts, and rode sideways on things they called snowboards. In March of 1993 I went on a ski trip with my family that would forever change my life. I rented a Burton “Air” 151 with Airwalk “Freestyle” boots for two consecutive days at Sunrise Park Resort located in the White Mountains of Arizona. I will end that story there for the rest is sacred to me.

Some of today’s technological advancements are our nation’s very crutch. But thanks to some of them, this is how I have spent half of the previous year…

May I present: 2010 in 5 megapixels.

Jamon and I testing out the new Skype webcam snapshot function.
Tracee and Rees. Day before their wedding

Keegan showing me his weird neck trick.

Keegan singing "I am a Child of God". This was one of my favorite days as an uncle. I will never forget it.

Kristen showing everyone how she would flip someone off if needed. Ever. Thumb IN Kristen, thumb IN.

Keegan and Jamon and grumpy faces.

Keegan showing me his muscles.

Keegan not standing up when his mom was telling him to.

I was eating OREO Cookies and Keegan saw mine so he went and found some in his kitchen and showed me some.

More Keegan muscles.

Tracee and Rees on a Sunday morning. I am prepared to take on the full wrath of my sister for posting this on the internet.

Kristen and Jamon in a fight.

Cowboy Keegan watching Toy Story.

Kristen.

Keegan showing me his bellybutton.

Rufus waiting intensely for his Christmas present.

Rufus escaping with Christmas present.

Keegan showing me his Legos he got from Santa Clause.

Rees so excited about... something. Maybe the it was the sweater he got from my mom. Mmmm doubt it. (Sorry mom, the sweaters were really cool, I swear.)

I wish I could know what he was thinking at this very moment surrounded by boxes upon boxes with things, more than likey, for him.

It was about 1.5 seconds after the sled was unwrapped that he was standing on it sideways jumping and making snowboard sounds. Keegan, we are going to be really good buddies.

Rufus exhausted from Christmas and waking up early. And... Keegan in toy heaven.

Dear siblings and family who might have been embarrassed from one or several pictures I have posted to the general public: I love you. Suckers.

What's a Christmas Gram? I want one!

2010-12-12T23:07:00.004-07:00

I promised myself that, as a form of communication with the friends and family I have living in all parts of the country and at times different regions of the world, I would maintain and update, very often, my blog.

I have failed. Royally.

I am currently on a twenty-four hour Charge of Quarters, (CQ,) shift. It is the night-time portion where I and my partner are the only ones awake for miles. I will use this time to put brain matter on paper. Actually it will only be me writing a post for my blog. Maybe two. I have no idea of what to write about nor have pressing thoughts that are screaming to be shared at the moment. This means I will just begin to type and see what happens. It snowed last week.

At about 8:50am on Tuesday the 8th of December, I was walking up to my office when little white flakes began slowly descending from the sky. They were VERY few and far between. As the morning continued, I would wait as long as I could stand until my spirit was broken and I had to get up from my chair and run to the window with hopes of a heavier snowfall. I Also received an occasional text message regarding the frozen precipitation and its intensity from an also excitable and anxious buddy. For about 5 minutes during the entire day it got to a level where my heart raced and I could not focus on my job. Then sometime that afternoon, the skies began to clear and the snow stopped. I had assumed it was done and realized I had received my fix from heaven which would hold me over for yet another month.

I leave work at 1700 hours as usual and make the walk to the dining facility. The skies were still gray and the air cold and humid. It SHOULD’VE been snowing. Ten minutes into my dinner I see several Korean soldiers walking in from outside. It took me several moments to realize what was wrong with them but after it sunk in, I realized their uniforms were absolutely covered in pow. I threw my tray into the…tray thing faster than any human being could and ran outside. Sure enough it was a dump. Very few times in my life I had been in such a dump. It made my day. I walked slowly in it trying my hardest to let every flake land on my head and shoulders. I was trying so hard to think of somewhere I needed to walk to or go just to be in it again. I ran up to my room with heart pounding and mind racing. I undressed and redressed into play clothes and started cramming SD cards and batteries into my cameras. Waterproof, freezeproof cameras. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could to savor what remained of the sudden onslaught of fluffy white. It only snowed for a grand total of about 15 minutes but it was enough to put a thick chunky monkey marshmallowy blanket on the ground. I returned to my room covered in snow and soaking wet and placed an emergency phone call in a ditch effort to continue playing in the winter wonderland to a friend to see if he saw what I saw. It caught him and his wife by surprise too. And he immediately became just as floored as I was. I asked what his plans were for the night and he mentioned his wife had a young womens activity to go to but he needed a buddy to go out in the snow with.

We coordinated a meeting time and place. His wife’s activity required two boxes of steaming hot Pizza Hut pizzas. Bonus. Right as were making it close to the church His wife, I’m going to call her Gina from now on, received a phone call from several of the girls and their parents letting Gina know that because of the inclement weather, (I’m sure they meant blessed and glorious weather,) they wouldn’t be coming to the activity. After a few slushy turns we arrived a hidden, secluded park. One that I didn’t know about with towering hills and patches of scattered trees which made two little boy minds excited about the endless sledding possibilities. The car turned off. The parking lot was empty except for an unattended work truck where I accurately delivered a snowball to its windshield. None of the park’s snow had been touched. We were the first to arrive. For anyone who has never experienced it, virgin snow is indescribable. There’s a quiet still that supersedes silence. Then the trunk was popped open and three sleds became visible.

Not much more can be said about boys, (and a girl,) with sleds, on insanely steep hills, in the middle of the night, with pizza, right after it snows besides words like mach speeds, snow filled orifices, and mild concussions.

I have several photos of the night’s exploits but they cannot be shown in public due to the professionalism and tact we maintain as soldiers of the United States of America. The night’s adventures required several pain killers and several hours of recovery to be able to even fall sleep once home and out of the cold.

It was a very appropriate and perfect way to welcome this year’s holiday season…. to myself. Not to mention the amazing pre-Christmas Christmas present I received from my family that included a Christmas tree and homemade decorations and ornaments. (Complete with nephew-painted miniature snowboards.) A tear… or 16 or 17 was/were shed.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower, makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her and it’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last…

The Drill Sergeant: Hindsight edition

2010-09-06T20:24:00.002-07:00

Preface: I need to get some of these on paper for my own memory and for friends and family’s enjoyment… before I forget them.

Basic Combat Training circa January/February 2010. I am put under the delicate and gentle care of several Drill Sergeants (add extensive amounts of sarcasm.) Be it military policy or military tradition that is somewhere written and kept hidden and mysterious, the Drill Sergeant has been teaching, leading, and shaping the common men and women of this nation into battle ready warriors, more specifically, American Soldiers.

They are everywhere at the same time. They can smell fear… and happiness. When they detect any measurable amount of it, it is quickly extinguished with pushups and screaming. (Please note that yelling or shouting was not used at all. It was screaming. Screaming was the word used.) They see you when you’re sleeping. They know if you’re awake. They don’t care if you’ve been bad or good because you’re a useless maggot and it wouldn’t matter.

Hind sight is a valuable thing as I have discovered in regards to Drill Sergeants. The work that is performed behind the scenes by them is not fully comprehended as our brains could not venture there due to the constant dreading about what we will encounter from one hour to the next. Because our brains were thus occupied, our thoughts and even appreciation could not be extended or manifest.

They undergo a rigorous training similar to ours in order to be effective teachers and trainers. They have served in the military and were experts not only in their fields of duty but were exceptional people and leaders. Working hours and conditions fall nowhere near words like convenient, comfortable, manageable, or even tolerable. That probably adds to their prickly demeanors. Whenever it was raining, snowing, sleeting, freezing, a Drill Sergeant was never more than a few feet away kindly watching over and strengthening his or her platoon. Hindsight says that’s what he/she was doing. At the time they were being fags making us do pushups in the bitter elements. This is perfect as they can never smile and added to their experience as well I’m sure.

Introduction describing, VERY briefly, a Drill Sergeants role in helping aspiring soldiers enter the ranks: complete. Original stories I was intending to tell in this post about some of the idiots Drill Sergeants have to deal with and babysit: commencing.

The person in these accounts was the retarded individual who took my understanding of idiocy into new and expanded realms. Uncontrollable laughter was the result. And it wasn’t laughter with him in any way. It was directed at him as the majority of the laughs were shielded by my hand placed over my mouth in astonishment and awe to behold such stupidity.
Private Thomas is a 19 year old male from North Carolina. His accent is thick and I would’ve placed him from Texas rather than NC. He is easily 6ft tall and upon entrance to the Army…somehow… weighed about 300. He was a large and dumb white person who is a prime example of WHY Drill Sergeants are the way they are and why they are desperately needed.

Incident 1:
We received instructions to go to our barracks, which at the time was a very large portable building that included a large bathroom with 5 shower heads and 5 toilet stalls. There was room for 30 soldiers that slept in bunk beds in the same bay area. Instructions were to clean and prep for an inspection later on in the day. The coveted Army issue beret was in our possession and people were anxious to dawn it for wear with our uniforms upon graduation. Private Thomas prepared to take a shower during this time even though cleaning the bay was the only authorized activity to be performed. He was wearing the ever so tiny and ridiculous black nylony-ish PT shorts and flip flops and before he was able to finish the ensemble and put on a shirt to walk to the showers, he was sidetracked, very easily, by the others who were trying on and shaping their black berets. He quickly found his and put it on. He forgot that it was on his head and he began to walk around and converse with the other soldiers busy cleaning.
Drill Sergeants love to open doors quietly and are very good at it. One of the fiercest entered and walked up behind Private Thomas and waited for the opportune moment to inflict massive embarrassment. It was within seconds that the whole room fell deadly silent and Private Thomas slowly turned around to behold a grimacing Drill Sergeant. I was so excited at what I now would possibly be going to witness and began to laugh and snicker in my mind. Is it wrong that I loved so much that this youngster was about to be utterly destroyed? Back to the action: it was quiet for about a solid minute. This minute was no doubt a long and mentally painful journey through the conscience of this dumb retarded idiot. (Triple threat.) Him and his pasty chubby self, half naked in flip flops and a jacked up beret standing in front of a fuming Drill Sergeant was one of the most amazing sites I have ever beheld. I loved every second.

The dialogue transpires as this:

DS-(Slightly elevated but EXTREMELY calm voice,) “What the hell are you doing and where are your clothes?”
Idiot- (Thomas snaps his feet and arms to the position of parade rest and voice is trembling.) “Uh, Drill Sergeant, I was going to take a shower…?”
DS-(Same semi-loud, calm tone.) “Then go get in the shower, right now. Don’t change a thing. You look like a clown. Move.”

Then we all watched our Drill Sergeant follow Private Thomas into the bathroom, (other people were in there at the time also,) Still deadly silent, and those privileged enough who were in the bathroom already watched Thomas stand under a showerhead in his beret and shorts and take a shower as the Drill Sergeant left. Drill Sergeants are an amazing breed. Their sense of humor bewilders me and how they can hold back smiles and maintain deadly steady and laser focused faces is astounding.

Incident 2, which happens to contain the same moron, will be posted in the near future. Descriptive writing hurts my brain but it might make me rich someday. Josh out.

Do work.

2010-08-30T10:29:00.006-07:00

A year and change is the elapsed time since my last blog post about a vacation I went on with my uncle and aunt to Mexico after having recently graduated college that took place during swine flu’s menacing rampage upon planet Earth which made for very cheap airline tickets.

It is August 30, 2010. On August 27 2009, I enlisted to serve 3 years active duty in the United States Army. I am currently sitting in a giant leather sofa chair, (make and model are unknown,) in LAX International Airport enduring a 4 hour layover on my way to the Republic of Korea, (its the South one,) 6,223 miles from my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. Korea will be my home for the next 12 months as it was designated to be my first duty assignment to serve in the 532nd Battalion of the 501st Military Intelligence Brigade. The job type and specifics as to what I will be doing… and watching, (grin appears on face,) are still unknown. Adventures to be had however, retain large amounts of potential and gnarlyness. Due to luggage restrictions and implemented weight/oversize baggage policies, several items that were initially packed were directly causing a certain suitcase to weigh 100+lbs and had to be removed and left at home. These were a scooter, wetsuit, EXTRA snowboard , and soccer cleats. Without these handy items on my person however, Korea will still be made into my pretty little girlfriend and will have to shower for weeks upon my departure in a year as I still have a skateboard, pads, snowboard, and a camera which is not only waterproof and dustproof, it is also shockproof and freeze proof. Basically it is Josh Terry proof which means: time to see and conquer Korea and all it has to offer.

In no way am I anticipating or insinuating that my job will be taking a backseat to recreation and tourism. These tools of fun will be my outlet for relaxation and stress relief from a rigorous week of protecting our country, as well as it’s interests, and not to mention PRESERVING THE FREEDOMS OF ALL HUMAN BEINGS THAT SPAN ACROSS THIS GOD GIVEN EARTH. I will have headaches and I assume my face will break out once or twice so I will be in need of a distraction. Hopefully that distraction is strapped to my feet sliding sideways down a snowy slope nearly every weekend once the POW begins to dump in the far east.

This post initiates my blogging for the next year I am in South Korea. I have several stories already that happened during Basic Combat Training of which the world needs to hear about. Hilarity will ensue. Right now I need to go eat food to sustain my body for a 14 hour long plane ride to empire of Japan beore heading to Korea. Dear Wolfgang Puck gourmet airport food, here I come. November Oscar Tango.

Also, the make and model of giant leather sofa chair is the #4181 Leggott and Platt. It’s extremely comfy.

Trip of the Decade

2009-05-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

Monday:

1:45am- Went to bed
3:45am- Woke up, took a shower, drove to airport.
6:40am- Got on the plane and flew to Salt Lake City. Saw mountains that could be snowboarded. Planned a snowboard trip in my head for 2 minutes. Bought some gum. Chewed some gum.
9:30am- Got on a plane and flew to Cancun, Mexico. Doubts that I was on the wrong plane were rejected as children screamed: "arriba!" as the plane took off and landed. More snowy mountains over Colorado. Lady and man sitting next to me were from Washington State and were boring. I was glad I stayed up late to make a new soundtrack for my MP3 player. I fell asleep and violently woke up elbowing boring lady.
3:10pm- Landed in Cancun, Mexico. Was herded through customs and found my bus. Stood by bus. Two American cougars asked where I was from and took me in as their cub. Rode bus to destination: Playa Del Carmen. Bus picked up Mexicans. A mom with 3 year old child sat next to me. 3 year old begins to squirm in her lap, begins to whine, begins to cry, begins to yell and scream. In my head I reminisce about similar missionary moments in far away Brazil involving crying children with ensuing resolute public breastfeedings. In the exact moment of my ponderings, the screeching child falls silent… Fears of what might be happening mere inches away from my arm are realized as I so slightly use my peripherals to confirm. Apparently, there exist MANY ways and techniques access to the feeders can be achieved. Bus stops, boob lady and child get off, aforementioned cougar takes the empty seat. Bus driver proceeds to rear-end another vehicle and all are forced to exit the bus. Cougars invite me to share a taxi as they know I am extremely vulnerable and disoriented. Cougars wish me luck and exit the cab, I continue traveling and arrive at condo. Unloaded things and left condo and beelined straight to the beach. I had to see it for reals. And jes, it was awesome. Found an eatery and ate shrimp tacos. Returned to the condo and watched Young Guns 2.

Tuesday:

12:15am- Uncle Grant and Aunt Tammara strolled in from their most recent wedding photo shoot. We exchanged hugs and hellos and told funny stories and crashed.
10:30am- We all woke up. Walked to a nearby café/shop/thingy/establishment with chairs outside and ate very delicious crepes with Nutella™ and strawberrys and fresh sqeezed OJ. Nothing processed. Only Nutella™. Au natural baby. Walked around and then returned to condo. Took naps and watched Nacho Libre.
8:00pm- Walked to another little café taco place and ate dinner. I dined on 3 pork tacos that cost 18 cents and a hearty goblet of mango juice.
10:00pm- Went to bed

Wednesday:

12:50am- Woke up because of weird random heart burn and stomach ache and panicked that it was swine flu .
2:30am- Woke up because of weird random heart burn and stomach ache and panicked that it was swine flu.
4:15am- Woke up because of weird random heart burn and stomach ache and panicked that it was swine flu.
5:30am- Woke up because of weird random heart burn and stomach ache and panicked that it was swine flu but also… it was time to go shred the gnar, rip some curl, drop in the tube, slash the pipe, and hang 10 far out. First I barfed up what was causing the mystery stomach issues. After spew, me and Coach walked to a bus to go to Cancun. Bus almost leaves Coach.
7:15am- Arrive in Cancun and go to surf bums smelly condo. Surf bum is the man and has found a way to live on a beautiful beach on the Caribbean Sea 5 stories above.
7:45am- With shred stick in hand I plunge into the chilly 78 degree water and paddle out. 78 degrees as a water temperature is not chilly. It was warm and awesome and amazing and awesome. Random swell came in for an 8 hour period 5 feet above the norm and I had it all to myself. It was a massacre. Tore. It. The. Crap. Up.
3:00pm- Couldn’t move my arms nor walk in a straight line.
3:30pm- Recovered and also, photo shoot time. Check it out! at joshisfreakinghotinhisswimsuitwithasurfboard.com
8:00pm- Dinner times at a really cool place called Karma Bagel. I was still not feeling so goods to eat. But afterwards, Hit. Tha. Clubs. Actually, my uncle just wanted to show me some. We went into several for free because we said we were looking for a friend. Hehe, suckers. Then I met one of the best DJ’s in all of Mexico as he has even been on MTV. He knew the coach bery well. There was a yussi mama dancing on the bar. She was bery yussi as in juicy. Like a whale. She threw down bery naughty dance moves.
12:30am- Bed times.

Thursday:

11:00am- Woke up
11:06am- Thought about what things I need to be worrying about and remembered I was in Mexico and stopped thinking about anything.
12:30pm- Walked with coach downtown to get snorkeling gear. Got gear. Went Snorkeling in the ocean for 3 hours. Saw aquatic life and a big fat sea turtle. Saw some tiny eyeballs peering out of the sand way down and maybe some sort of nose attached to the eyeballs. I swam down to of course disturb whatever it was and reached down to touch it and it didn’t like it and burst out of the sand with lightning speed and zoomed away but turns out it was a 3 foot long scarier than hell eel thing. I screamed in my mask and used all the breath in my lungs for the scream. Almost died twice.
3:30pm- Returned to shore and walked down the beach back towards the town and condo. Saw a string bikini. Saw four string bikinis.

Friday:

9:30am- Woke up.
11:00am- Got on a bus with coach and rode to some "cenotes". (Sinkholes and caves filled with crystal clear freshwater.) Arrived and swam. It was super. Jumped off the walls into the water below and became an instant local hero. Went to one down the road and swam. Also very super. Climbed the wall, climbed a tree and jumped off the tree into the water below. Heroes again. Returned home.
5:00pm- Grant and Tammara leave to shoot a wedding.
5:45pm- I curl up into a ball in a corner and cry out of fear of being alone in a very fun city.
7:00pm- Leave condo alone and venture into the town. Look at souvenirs for my family and cant afford anything. Sorry wieners.
11:00pm- Watch awesome fire show.

Saturday:

12:30am- Go to bed for the night.
10:30am- Woke up. Did laundry. Cleaned Condo.
2:00pm- Rode a bus to another town and got off to see Mayan ruins. Walked to ruins. Walked around ruins. Left ruins and walked down to the beach. Walked down the beach. Walked down the beach looking for the perfect spot to sit and read and get a smoothie or 5 and tan my white body. Walked for about 5 miles. Hopped a fence of a resort I wasn’t suppoed to be in and asked for a glass of water to replenish my fluids. "Are jew a guest here wit us?" a tiny Mexican asked me. I said "jes, jes I am a guest. How about a virgin mango smoothie after dis water ting por favor? He then asked: "if jew are a guest heres, whhhere is jor bracelet?" I was stunned. But I covered by saying "oh, ill grab it when I get back to my room." That might have triggered the course of events that led to me getting politely asked to "Please leave of dis premises please." But it took an hour or so for them to get that message to me.
9:00pm- Ate dinner and watched drug dealers deal drugs to tourists from the Karma Bagel café back at the town of Playa.
11:00pm- Watched snowboard movies. Went to bed.

Sunday:

10:15am- Woke up. Ironed church clothes.
11:30am- Walked to church that started at 12. Church was good. Speakers were awesome. Best part came in the middle. It was the part where the little boy sitting next to me never was sitting but kept running faster and faster down our row and finally he tripped and fell flat on his face but the crackers he was carrying in his hands landed underneath his face before it hit so when the dust settled and he arose, there was exploded crackers in his hair and plastered to his face.

Monday:

More underwater and cliff jumping adventures….

Tuesday:

Flights home… An Asian guy kept poking me for some reason and waking me up a lot, don’t know why…

Throughout the whole trip, whenever people would come up to us and ask us anything, we were sure to tell them about our severe diarrhea problems and issues….

Ya know, it can’t even be written all the fun that was had. I laughed literally for hours and hours on this trip and had some of the best fun in a long time. THANKS a MILLION Grant and Tammara!!!

(pictures are to follow.)

Yer da bessst!

Concerning Pirates...

2009-04-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

The word "pirate" is being thrown around in extremely reckless and inaccurate situations these days and it's really beginning to irritate me. I hope it has been irritating others as well and that I am not the only one who thinks so, (because me writing this would be an extremely large example of me mis-managing my time and wasting severe amounts of it.)

Piracy as defined by the United Nations Convention on the Laws of the Sea, (talk about a waste of time,) consists of "any criminal acts of violence, detention, or depredation committed for private ends by the crew or the passengers of a private ship or aircraft that is directed on the high seas against another ship, aircraft, or against persons or property on board a ship or aircraft. Piracy can also be committed against a ship, aircraft, persons, or property in a place outside the jurisdiction of any state." WRONG.

PIRATES ARE: the almost exact definition of what bad asses are defined as. They are and will forever be symbols of coolness and radness and being bad to the bone. Here is another perspective: can you even imagine what pirates would be like if they had rock and roll back when real pirates roamed the seas? No, you cant imagine it because that’s pretty much what pirates are... rock and roll but in real life! Pirates do not exist anymore as they were only historical figures of some awesome guys doing crazy things beginning a long time ago until about 1655. Chuck Norris probably descended from a pirate or two. The only REAL modern day pirates are the 68 audio-animatronic pirate replica robots located in downtown Anaheim, California that entertain and amuse up to 3400 guests per hour for 16.5 minutes at a time. True pirates indeed.

PIRATES ARE NOT: Keira Knightley (yuck), nor are they Somali weiners. NOTE: not all Somalis are bad guys... I am referring to the selfish thieves that are cowardly boarding boats and ships that aren’t theirs with wussy little automatic rifles... All countries have scum but there are still people in Somalia that are good and grand people. Probably. Anyways, for these brainless, lowlife animals to be given the glorious title of “pirate,” It induces vomiting from me. The more appropriate title for them would be along the lines of… oh… lets say… well, douche bags. And that way this weeks incredible headlines could’ve said: “Last night three Somali douche bags were lit the crap up by US Navy SEALS. Their bodies no longer have heads attached to them. Duche bags around the world will continue to be eliminated as they break laws and mess with the United States of America. All duche bags are currently being advised to stay indoors permanently or until they resolve among themselves to grow up and be productive and contributing human beings.” Go team USA!!!

A Sensitive Matter

2009-01-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

Only on very rare occasions should any sensitive matters be discussed about in any form over the internet. But these sensitive matters with which I am about to share are very important to me. On several instances in the recent months I have involved myself in bi-weekly basketball games with friends for recreational purposes as well as health purposes. For the most part, no sensitive matters have been talked about nor slandered or have been exposed in any way and my physical health has somewhat improved. However... during the most recent game, the positive patterns of fun and health drastically took a turn for the worse. A certain lady who's attendance is spotty decided to make an appearance and then tried to turn up her game and became dangerously aggressive. With a purposely delivered and accurately executed hip-check, my health declined within milliseconds along with my attitude. My sensitive matters had been compromised and were vulnerable. As the owner and caretaker of 5 sensitive matters in her household, she should, by now, know that sensitive matters are of very high importance to... whoever has them attached to themselves. Please let this be a warning to all who are not aware or who underestimate the importance of other's sensitive matters. Thank you.

Two Words: Cowboy Up.

2008-10-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

The other day I was fortuneate enough to attend a rodeo. No I didnt. I watched a movie titled 8 Seconds starring a sexy Luke Perry that played the ever-famous-among-cattle-folk bull rider: Lane Frost. I give the film two horns up. It instilled in me many desires such as speaking as if I was raised out west... like Arizona, and using a drawled out accent and ending each sarcastic phrase with the word "stupid" or "wus." Antoher desire that blossomed within is that I want my children to grow up tough as nails. I will accomplish this by forcing them, or belittle them until they voluntarily have a desire to attend and compete in the American (see disclaimer below) classic: Mutton bustin'. My children will not be crying as they get their action filled picture taken. That there wiener kid needs to cowboy up, stupid. My little terds will hang on fer dear life and get a rad picture by a clown and a dorky rodeo judge thats a nerd.

Also... is the sport of mutton bustin becomeing infiltrated by outside wannabes? See for yourself!

2008-10-27T00:27:00.000-07:00

Only in America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, can you go to your local State Fair and purchase an adult admission and be allowed to enter into a world of culture and humility.

The AZ State Fair comes every year and every year thousands of people in many different colors, shapes, sizes, smells and levels of poverty enter it's gates. I must've forgotten but where in the history of the United States was it a tradition to be attracted to mingle and freely hand money to the beloved employees of the fair known as Carnies? Homer Simpson was quoted as saying, "Despite their rat-like appearance, carnies are kings among men."

Upon losing a game that is almost impossible to win in the first place, many a man who feels the need to be respected and honored as he walks the fair grounds will continue to play until the Carnie in charge will tell the loser that he has won a little baby duck. Then, in return for 8 baby ducks, he will trade up for a medium duck and for 4 medium ducks, he will trade up for an extra large ScoobyDoo. The man will be able to return to work and home and to his family with pride now that he has won what seems to be another wonder of our world.

Oh, what rich culture! Where else in this world can one unite with fellow citizens in a place filled with noises and lights and try and decipher the many stenches floating about you? Where else can those who are so bored with life meet and eat and ride vomit rides and compare the size and color of pigs, goats, and llamas? Where else can there be included with the original admission, a seat in the grand stands to watch a firey demolition derby and then later, partake in the american delicasies of deep fried anythings.

It is strangely patriotic. And may America be blessed forever and also it's traditions and wonderful culture... from sea to shining sea.