Hepa-happiness

Sometimes I question whether or not life is worth living. In such moments, I quickly assess my options of locations where I might acquire the most potent STD's in existence, in the shortest, most efficient manner possible. Wal-Mart and brothels are usually the first places that come to mind. But sometimes also I feel the need to shove as many gummy hamburgers down my gullet as is humanly possible. So I guess when I want a superfluously virulent mixture of hepatitis and gummys, the Nickelcaid is the only logical destination.

Tonight Colin and I decided to be active wardly participants. As I have basically avoided all wardular activities thus far this summer, I figured the Nickelcaid activity was a great place to begin my post-Sunday activity reactivation. Prior to arriving at disease nation, we met at the church for a spiritual moment. You know, to prepare us for the old school digital spirituality of which we would soon be partaking. I mean...reading the Book of Mormon/playing Dig Dug...pretty much the same thing. I always imagine that when I am pumping up the creatures with the jet pack hose, I am inflating them with the holy spirit, and blowing them into Christian oblivion.

Anyhow as we are awaiting our mini spiritual feast, there is this kid who is preparing for a mission and extremely over zealous in every way to the max. So he is walking around talking to many of the females and excitedly telling them, "Hey. You wanna see the hot girl I'm going out with lately?" After which he would provide a glamor shot by Deb, thus confirming her formerly alleged hotness. She certainly had some pretty sweet bangs. But seriously, he had like...a whatever the size is just up from wallet size, professional portrait of her.

This ward is amazing. So many legends.

Once at the N' Caid (the Nickelcaid's underground name) I delved right into the filthiness. As I played Cowboy Contra, I wondered how many festering lesions would be covering my hands the next morning. At one point I made the dire mistake of rubbing my eye to abate some intense itchiness. I can already feel the pinkeye threatening to overwhelm my inner bodily defenses. I'll probably wake up looking like a mutant tomorrow.

That place is seriously amazing. I think what most people do there is first and foremost get an overabundance of nickels. After playing several arcade games, most people probably think, "What the hell am I gonna do with all these nickels?" and realize that they will never use the 700 that they have, and so end up trying to acquire as many tickets as possible. Gummie hamburgers. 25 tickets. Get out.

As we were wrapping up our ticket acquiring endeavors, this Hispanic family came in and monopolized what were apparently the most lucrative machines in the place. 50 dollars in nickels later, they had about 3500 hundred tickets, and were about 1/5 of the way towards winning this little girl's bike which would have cost them that mere 1/5 had they gone to that haven of all communicable disease--Orem Wal-Mart.

There was this little tiny girl wandering around aimlessly with no shoes and an expired bag of nickels, one pig tail in, one out. I feel like her parents were probably like..."Hey. Monies is a little low this month, so let's just drop little Lupe off at the Nickelcaid with a sack of nickels for 4 hours." Kinda sad. Truthfully, I think they were winning her the bike.

9 dollars, 4 tattoos, gummy hamburgers, and friendship bracelets, 5 trans fats (flavored tootsie rolls) a spaceshuttle, Wal-mart truck, and a jet-ski ride later, we had had all the fun/HIV we could handle.

This may be my final post. Screw you universe.

Give my room a condom

So ever since I shattered my window with my considerable strength (not really) my room has become, "attack of the creatures." While sitting here working (on my bed, because I work from my bed ((I'm a freaking sloth))) I have been attacked/crawled upon by no less than 3 distinct creatures. I can't take this. My room is relatively clean, so slobbery isn't the issue. Also, I never eat in here, with exception of an occasional can of low sodium V8.

What's the point? Why keep drinking "heart healthy" V8 if small bugs are just going to crawl through my ear canals while I sleep and burrow their way down into my chestal cavity and nest in my heart? I bet the sodium would have created a protective salt layer around my coronary region, thus rendering it impossible for the bugs to penetrate my palpitating blood engine. But now I'm screwed, all in the name of healthy heart valves.

But really. What do I do about these bugs? I doubt there is much to make one feel like his life has descended into a low level of squalor than when one is attacked by bugs in bed. I have no window, nor a screen on my window. Creatures have an all access pass to my lair. I am reminded of the AIDS video that we had to watch every year in Elementary school. There was this house with a white picket fence guarded by white suited men (white blood cells) which would turn away all of the evil colored creatures (diseases.) But, suddenly AIDS sneaks in because of premarital sex! Because whenever you have premarital sex, you will get AIDS. So I believed until I was about 15. Anyways, suddenly the gate keepers were transformed into evil red ones. "Come on in, Mr. Cancer. Sure thing Mr. Pneumonia, get in here." And so a flood of multi-colored scary creatures overtook the house. And that, kids, is why you only have sex when you're married.

How very appropriate that, as I was writing that last paragraph, an ant crawled on my shoulder.

I totally grew up thinking that one contracted AIDS arbitrarily through sexual intercourse, and that it was impossibly to become infected after one was married. In other words, I thought that AIDS was a consequence of premarital sex, instead of having sex with an infected person. As much as people may laugh at that thought, it actually holds a lot of truth. If people didn't have premarital sex, nobody would get AIDS. (ok, ok, I realize I am leaving out needles, but the principle still applies.) It is pretty absurd that one of the greatest scourges of our time is completely and 100% preventable.

Keep your treasures in you pants, avoid the AIDS dance. Until you are married, of course. Then you are immune.

Man this post took a random turn.

Creative Mental Hiatus

I appologize for the sparse posting lately. I also want to precursor this with a disclaimer--I am not typing this on my computer, therefore this is not being spell checked as I go. I lack good spelling skills, ergo this could get a little rough.

I have just been ridiculously busy the last week or so. Let me break it down.
First, I had a committee member for my senior thesis who hated me. This, as my head committee member informed me is "every senior's worse nightmare." So on wednesday morning I defended my thesis. Committee member Dr. A-hole was "deeply troubled" by my paper, and attempted to fail me. Actually, he is not a Dr. Luckily I had Mormon God, Jewish God, and I'm not entirely certain which other God on my side, and was able to squeek through with a B. In other words, I'm going to graduate. I had a few doubts.

I now currently have three jobs, and write for a magazine. This clutterizes my life, and leaves me very little spare time to come up with new words like clutterize.

I started working for Apex alarms this week as a reporter/writer. I wish it were writer/reporter, as I am more accustomed to the former, but hopefully this will be a good opportunity to take my pursuits in a new direction, and provide developemental opportunities that I wouldn't otherwise have. Plus it pays damn good. Anyways, I will be writing a minimum (unless I suck at it and get fired) of 6 articles per week. Which may, ultimately, cut into my every so precious blogging time. I mean, I may actually have to start being responsible.

I still work for Macaroni Grill. I still wish I was dead upon walking through the doors on most nights.

I have submitted one article for Square Mag summer edition, and have another due by wed.

I spent today reminding myself why I have not yet quit college. Also, reminding myself how much I hate manual labor. Not to be confused with Manuel Labor, patron saint of the toiling man. Which brings me to my third job; driving to Nephi, bending over, digging around trees, pulling weeds, driving around a lawn mower that is probably more akin to a tractor than anything, and hating St. Manuel.

Lastly, as if everything else weren't enough, my computer has contracted some form of STD. I live and die by my computer, so this is a highly unfortunate circumstance. I initially bought my computer from a guy who builds them in Nephi. Picture a computer geek version of comic book guy, and you will be spot on. He informed me that switching from Norton to McKfee or however the hell its spelled, is akin to "using a condom with a hole in it." I like him.

All in all, I have sort of been on a creative mental hiatus. Too much going on. Brain no like.

On a completely unrelated note--my downstairs neighbors whom I so dearly adore, are constantly coughing. Like, a sickening, black lung, phlegm-hacking cough that makes my spine crinkle every time I hear it. I can't help but smile inside a tiny bit (amidst the shuddering) and think, "serves those filthy smokers right." Does this mean I am a terrible person? I do not believe that I necessarily feel that way about all smokers. I mostly just dispise these ones, because I hate smelling it, and it directly affects me.

I am semi embarrassed to even post this, due to the extremely journal-esque nature of the whole thing. I have tried to, until this point, wholly avoid allowing my blog to turn into a, "hey, this is what I did today. Neat huh," blog. Not that there is anything wrong with such blogs. I just don't want mine to be one of those. I have a different agenda. Thanks for sticking with me. I swear in my wrath that this is not the ultimate demise and digression of my blog. Once I get through this up and comming week from hell, and school starts again (May 3) and I get a hang of journalism, my blog shall return to it's normal, glorious, mystifying, compelling, prodigious, brilliant, non-narcissistic, and utterly riveting state.

Stay tuned.