License? Registration? Written proof of graduation?
Greetings to one and all on a wonderful Tuesday afternoon. It's a good day to Feel Good About Yourself. Shall we?? Topics to be discussed today: The decline of society, murder on the high seas, the evolution of man, and a brilliant way of lowering gas prices. On we go!
So today, Austin and I decide that we'll be productive... It's not like we try to be unproductive the other days of the week, but we both had work off, you know, so it was a good day to do something like that. We got up pretty early and in the space of two and a half hours, I had eaten breakfast, done push-ups, checked my email, shaved, showered, studied Spanish for forty-five minutes, practiced my trumpet (long overdue!), and told Austin stories from my mission! So that's pretty time-efficient, if you ask me. Anyhoo, we went out on the town to a few stores and whatnot, and - just trying to be nice, right? - I help this young mom get through the door. She was trying to get her baby stroller in there with one had as she tried to shoo another kid past with her left leg while she held the door open with her right foot, so I hopped on over and held the door open for her. And how does she thank me?? Oh yeah - she doesn't. I think she was pregnant, too. Do "wife points" apply for after the mission, too?? Come on, people! I held the door open for like ten people today (all younger women, even!) and only one pair of ladies said anything. This is the decline of society, folks. We're going down.
In other related news, on the drive home, I was forced to drive like a maniac, due in large part to an array of white styrofoam springy things which were unfashionably strewn across the pavement. This is not a joke. This is true. One crazed wild man zipped in front of us and then back into the left lane (understandable; he must have been in a hurry...) and I had a mere split-second to get ahold of my senses and swerve out of the way of a perilous collision with one of these dangerous obstacles. This was dangerous, dangerous stuff. Good thing there weren't any cyclists on that road... Well anyway, there is a point to this story, believe it or not. We kept driving for a while and came up behind a white super-duty pick-up truck. And lo, and behold, the bed of the truck was filled to the brim with white styrofoam springy things. This thing was overflowing! Wisely, and using our best judgement, we passed him at the soonest opportunity, at which point, Austin pointed out that a cop had been following us, now leaving him directly behind that gas-guzzling litterbug. This was an environmentalist's worst nightmare, my friends. Austin and I hoped that the cop would bust him for causing so many unplanned and short-lived detours, but - oh yes - the cop turns at the next intersection! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Come on, Officer! That's ninety bucks in the proverbial wallet! That's a couple Starbucks and some Krispy Kremes for you!!, not to mention saving the world from filth and its inhabitants from impending death! And you turn onto another street?? Classic example right there, folks, of the Signs of the Times. People don't say thank you and the cops are letting red-handed criminals go scott free.
Greetings to one and all on a wonderful Tuesday afternoon. It's a good day to Feel Good About Yourself. Shall we?? Topics to be discussed today: The decline of society, murder on the high seas, the evolution of man, and a brilliant way of lowering gas prices. On we go!
So today, Austin and I decide that we'll be productive... It's not like we try to be unproductive the other days of the week, but we both had work off, you know, so it was a good day to do something like that. We got up pretty early and in the space of two and a half hours, I had eaten breakfast, done push-ups, checked my email, shaved, showered, studied Spanish for forty-five minutes, practiced my trumpet (long overdue!), and told Austin stories from my mission! So that's pretty time-efficient, if you ask me. Anyhoo, we went out on the town to a few stores and whatnot, and - just trying to be nice, right? - I help this young mom get through the door. She was trying to get her baby stroller in there with one had as she tried to shoo another kid past with her left leg while she held the door open with her right foot, so I hopped on over and held the door open for her. And how does she thank me?? Oh yeah - she doesn't. I think she was pregnant, too. Do "wife points" apply for after the mission, too?? Come on, people! I held the door open for like ten people today (all younger women, even!) and only one pair of ladies said anything. This is the decline of society, folks. We're going down.
In other related news, on the drive home, I was forced to drive like a maniac, due in large part to an array of white styrofoam springy things which were unfashionably strewn across the pavement. This is not a joke. This is true. One crazed wild man zipped in front of us and then back into the left lane (understandable; he must have been in a hurry...) and I had a mere split-second to get ahold of my senses and swerve out of the way of a perilous collision with one of these dangerous obstacles. This was dangerous, dangerous stuff. Good thing there weren't any cyclists on that road... Well anyway, there is a point to this story, believe it or not. We kept driving for a while and came up behind a white super-duty pick-up truck. And lo, and behold, the bed of the truck was filled to the brim with white styrofoam springy things. This thing was overflowing! Wisely, and using our best judgement, we passed him at the soonest opportunity, at which point, Austin pointed out that a cop had been following us, now leaving him directly behind that gas-guzzling litterbug. This was an environmentalist's worst nightmare, my friends. Austin and I hoped that the cop would bust him for causing so many unplanned and short-lived detours, but - oh yes - the cop turns at the next intersection! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Come on, Officer! That's ninety bucks in the proverbial wallet! That's a couple Starbucks and some Krispy Kremes for you!!, not to mention saving the world from filth and its inhabitants from impending death! And you turn onto another street?? Classic example right there, folks, of the Signs of the Times. People don't say thank you and the cops are letting red-handed criminals go scott free.
Well, I wanted to take some time this week and let you all know about some exciting new developments in "Lost," the new television program that I've been getting familiar with in the last two weeks. Nothing really that exciting has happened. Just more of the same... Like people getting abducted, freakish ghosts in scary cabins, Iraqis healing forehead wounds with gunpowder and a match, and characters killing their own fathers. So I might have to wait until next week.
**QUESTION TIME!!**
Q. "Hey Aaron,I have a question. Can you tell me the origin of the phrase 'chango pelon?'"
- James Jensen
A. Well, James, the phrase "chango pelon" was used semi-frequently in my mission to North Carolina to describe a rather squirrely Branch Mission Leader in Raeford/Red Springs named Kiko. He was a crazy guy and if you want the full story (I guess you know the full story) - if anybody else wants the full story, they can talk to me about it later... like the time we got Elder Woolsey with the "drug bust." Ha! Good times, James. Good times. Anyway, in a previous area, my companion and I had been teaching an "investigator" (I use quotation marks because he was more interested in the lucha libre than in the Church) about the Plan of Salvation. When asked where we came from, he replied that we, as humans, were "descendientes del chango pelon," or in other words, descendants of the bald monkey, evidencing his belief in evolution. Needless to say, the lesson didn't go on much further than that. So that's where it came from. Why we called Kiko the "Chango Pelon" all the time... well... I'm not really sure.
Q. "Dear Aaron,
Do you really know what 'squirrely' means?"
- Just Curious,
The Junior Mounties
A. Um, no. It just sounded good. (SALUTE!)
Remember, you - yes YOU - can submit your very own questions via email to tarheelglory19@yahoo.com.
I was thinking the other day, which on most days can be a little hazardous, but seriously... I came up with an idea to lower gas prices. I think this is a good idea. I was watching this show, "Million Dollar Password," and it reminded me a lot of that old show "Ten Thousand Dollar Pyramid" or whatever. It was then that I realized how inflated game show prizes are. If people were happy like fifteen years ago with ten thousand dollars, why do we have to give them a million dollars now?? And I bet I could win "Million Dollar Password" on my first try. With my eyes closed! So I hereby submit that we lower the amount of money given away on game shows. They shouldn't be rewarded for that junk anyway. "Million Dollar Password" is something that you play with your grandparents after dessert on Sunday afternoons. Last time I did something like that, they didn't pay me anything, other than the fifty bucks to bribe me to play in the first place. And I spent that on strawberries for dessert the next week when I had to play again. So here's the deal - lower game show giveaways and spend that money on oil barrels. Genius, right? If that doesn't work, I have a back-up plan.
I've always just asked, "Why don't they just print more money?" Apparently, and I don't know if this is even true or not, but they don't have enough gold to back the money. Well if that's really the case (I don't think it is. It's probably just the price of ink and toner cartidges at Office Max...), how about this - why don't they have Pres. Bush go on "Million Dollar Pyramid?" Actually, that might not be such a good idea.
The Encarta Word of the Day today is "rootle." rootle (v.): rummage; to root or rummage. There you go.
Finally, the Shoutout of the Week this week goes to Travis Frakes. Frank-Town! Or, should I say... "Mr." Frank-Town!
That's about it for this week. Hope you're having a good Tuesday.
Until next Time,
Move It! Sell It! And Leave the Door Open!
Aaron
3 comments:
I forgot to bring my trumpet to Canada. Oops.
Don't worry about the women not acknowledging your politeness. It will count to the one who counts. If that makes sense.
See my posting about the Perfect Push Up if you want great results. Your Uncle Mark and I have done well with it.
Does that mean I have to marry a mathmetician?
No. A hottie.
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