attraction and aversion

belleza

2009-07-17T13:45:00.000-07:00

I am reluctant to post things about my personal life online, but I will say I am smitten.

Plymouth Rock

2008-11-13T16:47:00.000-08:00

In true American fashion, I am going back the roots of this country and celebrating my thanksgiving the way the Indians still do it. In Mexico.

JERRY

2008-11-13T16:38:00.000-08:00

Excerpts from Jerry Fowler Jr.’s nighttime readings with his Father, the televangelist—Jerry Fowler Sr.

“Noah, why won’t you let me on the ark?” asked Louis. He was beginning to get irritated. That, and a little bit worried for his life.

“I’m sorry Louis, it’s just that you aren’t on the list”.

“How am I not on the list! I’ve known you since you we were twelve. I was you first son’s god-father, for goodness’ sake!”

“I know, I know, but really, my hands are tied. I know you and Karen were really depending on this. I mean especially because you helped build the darn thing, but I just don’t think it’s going to work.”

They stopped talking and both looked up—Louis squinted, hoping that he was not really feeling what he was feeling.
“I think that’s…”

“You’ll rot in hell, Noah!”, said Louis, cutting off Noah midsentence. The rain beat harder.

“Louis! if God wanted you to survive the flood, he would have put you on the list. I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. It’s not like you’re the only ones being excluded. None of the other dinosaurs are getting on the boat either. How would it look if I let you on, but not anyone else? Put yourself in my shoes. And I’m sorry to say this, but I have to go now; I’m getting kind of wet.”

Noah pulled the ark’s door shut. After going through the checklist again, Noah dared to peer through the lone window of the little house on the top of the barge. There he saw his friends neck deep in rain water. He began to cry. He couldn’t contain himself; he dropped his clipboard, sobbing. As he regained his composure, he opened his eyes. There, on the floor he saw it. Where his clipboard fell, laid all the papers it held. But he saw an unfamiliar fourth sheet of paper still attached to the clip board—“it must have been stuck to the sheet in front of it when I checked the list”, thought Noah. He looked at that new sheet, and there, at the top of the list, were Louis and Karen. It was too late though.

As my dad finished the story, he reached for the light. In the darkness I still remember him repeating the moral of the story; “And that is why there are no more dinosaurs on the earth”. I looked up, staring into the darkness, and asked innocently, “is that why there aren’t cave men anymore too, dad?” He chuckled, and said, “of course not, Jerry Jr., cavemen never existed. Those bones are fakes by ‘the Left’ so they can say we came from monkeys.”

This phone is better than andie's phone.

2008-11-10T10:36:00.000-08:00

2008-11-08T20:24:00.001-08:00

Will You Be There - Michael Jackson;The Cleveland Orchestra

But they told me
A man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end
But Im only human

I hope our love ain't a dinosaur, that's not allowed on the ark

2008-11-04T11:06:00.000-08:00

Please Noah, let my love live.
http://gvsbchris.com/13%20Dinosaur%20On%20The%20Ark.mp3

English Class' First Assingment

2008-10-28T19:23:00.000-07:00

And then there were twenty three.

He closed the book and looked up. She was smiling at him again, the third time in as many minutes. Infuriated, he got up and walked toward the coy brunette. As he approached her table he fumed-- how could he study with all these distractions? He just wanted to study in peace. Why could they not understand that he is not just a piece of eye candy, that he had a personality and aspirations. He didn't appreciate all the cat calling, the firm but subtle butt grazes he experienced whenever he had to squeeze by girls to get out of the rows in class. The constant texts. The constant calls. The unwanted gifts. The cockamamie schemes they'd concoct just to get him alone.
"Hii".
The incessant note passing. The inappropriate things they'd whisper in his ear right before they walked away. All the hugs, a bit to tight to be comfortable, and a bit to long to innocent.
"Hii", she repeated.
Once again his internal monologue outplayed the allotted time--he'd been standing there, a brooding scowl on his face for the last minute and a half.
"I'm Jackie", she said.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Jackie, but I couldn't help but notice your lovely smile from across the room".
"Yeah, I know! I've been smiling at you for the past 20 minutes".
"Aww, I'm flattered, but I have to tell you, so we can both get some work done, I'm really just not attracted to fat, ugly girls, I'm so sorry", he said emphatically. He really was sorry he thought to himself as he walked away. He didn't know what it was, why they were so incessant.
Had he been born 30 years later he would have been benefited from the advances in science, for in 2039 a German laboratory assistant discovered the attraction association index and scaling formulas of 2040. T'were he were born then, he would have realized that he scored just high enough where ugly chicks found him extremely attractive, but low enough where thought they could get with him.
He sat down to get back to his poetry book entitled the complete works of Hugh Jackman, and as he opened to his place, a scented note fell out. It smelled of hamburger.

English Class' lastest assignment

2008-10-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

Poetry Sample #1: Why I’m Glad Dr. Seuss Wasn’t a Real Doctor

My First and Last Examination with Dr. Theodore Seuss Geisel by Jamie Teuford,

as told to Charles Rogers

I have miles and miles of files filed—so let’s see where you are, little child

Rafford? Rufford? Stratford? Struford? Oh, here you are, Jamie Teuford.

Well come on back—we'll let’s get this going

Honey, you know your epidermis is showing?

No you’re not sick, have no fear—that’s just a doctor joke my dear

Now you remember how it goes—we check our body, head to toes

First I'll pinch, then pull and poke—then another awkward joke

Let me know when it hurts—holler, yell, or call me jerk

Now let’s see you little arm—check the pulse, no alarm

And then go sit on the table—I'll knock you knee with this ladle

I'm using this, my hammers lost—and it was this or my car's exhaust

Left knee, right knee, one knee two knee—your kicker’s a-kicking, and nearly right through me!
The time has come to measure you long—lets’ hope this time we find nothing wrong,

Darling, darling, now up on the scale—honey! Too much cake makes us a whale.

Some are tall, some are black,

But no, not you, you’re just short and fat

Hop on down, back to the room—let’s check your eyes you fat buffoon.

One eye, two eye, brown eye blue eye

No, that’s not normal—you’re what we call screw-eyed

Drop those drawers—now mom, to the hall!

The time has come for us to check those … [I can’t think of anything that rhymes with hall].

Too hot for my other blog

2008-09-15T23:48:00.001-07:00

I remember our bishop once remarked that he thought he got herpes from an unsavory doughnut. Chad asked, “Well, what’d u do to the doughnut?” But that’s just how the Chad operates, and almost no one can stand to dislike him for it.

-Dane

se les tenia que decir

2008-04-30T23:36:00.000-07:00

i hate all of you.

2008-03-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

I have 6 blogs. But i can't write how I really feel in any of them because people I know read them. So I had to create a 7th, secret blog, so I can actually unburden my emotions. say la v.

what the critics are saying, this time.

2008-01-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, Chad, I really don’t know what comments to make on this paper. Most papers I comment on are full of these pink boxes, but not yours. I agree that in some places you will probably want to tone it down some, but I hope that you don’t tone everything down too much. Its funny. You obviously aren’t writing with perfect grammar or punctuation, but it works with what you are doing. The tone is funny and a little offensive but you pull it off really well. I think that you know where you are going with this so I’m not going to stand in the way—

-my english teacher

Apartment Survivor

2008-01-09T19:20:00.000-08:00

Season two of "Apartment Survivor" early January 9th. Season one had ended abruptly after two grueling weeks of icy showers, manipulation (mostly Garrett), half-truths (Garrett again), deception (Garrett), and fiery tempers as Taylor Frey capitulated in typical young ambassador fashion, putting both the gas and power bills in his name. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Apartment Survivor, it goes a little like this: When you move into an apartment, someone must place the utilities in their name. Due to the stranglehold that pride has on man's heart, no one will suffer the indignation of collecting money from the others to pay the bills while his roomates have nary a care in the world save watching The Hills and playing 18 year old girls. Those two long weeks in season one when no one would put the gas in their name were not easy- each morning was greeting with a cringe as we braved the veritable ice storm produced by our shower head. Leaving the bathroom in a towel and mild hypothermia was more than poor little Taylor could bare; he called the power company and the next day a nice man came over and lit our fire (literally).
Then, on the 6th of January, something tragic happened... Taylor moved out! Unhappy with our kitchen's constant disarray (we all thought it was silly he was so unforgiving of the kitchen, I mean, it's just a kitchen) and the inability for his and Adam's toilet seat to stay attached when faced with whatever they do behind closed doors. We were all happy to see Taylor go, but the tragallity (trah-jal-it-e) struck a mere three days later when it was manifest that he had taken the bills out of his name. That morning, as Adam and I readied ourselves for school, the power went out... Apartment Survivor, season two had begun.

Economics

2007-12-28T22:05:00.000-08:00

This is an essay I wrote for my econ 110 class at byu/ an open letter to people who don't like sweatshops.

We were in your car driving to see "Stardust"; you made an offhand comment about my shirt that I bought for three dollars, asking me if I enjoyed supporting child labor and deplorable sweatshop working conditions. I said "yes", to stubborn to just let it go. You rebuttal was a cute rejoinder about how you purchased all your t-shirts from American Apparel, whose garments are made in L.A. factories by well paid employees. I just let it go after that, hoping that you would forget about that unfortunate exchange. But I didn't forget, I pondered what you said and my pondered my alleged guilt. In fact in my reading of Naked Economics, I learned all about globalization, sweatshops, and child labor. You'd done your research, now I've done mine. While your purchases at American Apparel benefit 4,000 workers in Southern California, providing them with decent working conditions and health care; my purchases from GenX were supplied from a sweatshop in a third world country. While it has been said that sweatshops are dangerous, hot, and exploitative of the poor, it is still not clear who does more to ameliorate the human condition, you or me. You see, the worker who produced my shirt was probably poor, very poor . They have to work 6 days week for very little pay, but $2 is much more than they would make anywhere else. The people who work in sweatshops work their because it is the best available working condition (which doesn't say much about their station in life). When I purchased those three shirts from GenX, I also increased the demand for sweatshop labor, which will cause more sweatshops to open, and the demand for labor to increase, causing the pay for my little garment maker to increase. Now they can afford more medical attention, ample food, and enough clothing for their families. Maybe she'll make enough so that her kids don't have to work also; perhaps they'll get an education and leave the vicious cycle they are in. In addition, as the employees of the sweatshops in Malaysia earn money, it increases Malaysia's GDP which gives them the opportunity to worry more about the environment. In fact, if I were to follow suite and buy only non-sweatshop t-shirts, the companies would close their factories in Asia. This would create a huge job shortage and the displaced employees would have to resort to other means to provide for their families (begging, prostitution, or jobs that were too dangerous or unattractive before whoever made these t-shirts came along).
I am going to try and write my GenX t-shirt purchases off as charitable contributions come April 15th.

disclaimer- this my feeble attempt at an interesting essay, so tread softly for you tread on my dreams.