The Open Road

The good news just keeps coming. I'm currently in Yuma and the plan was for me to fly home tonight. Not so fast my friends. Now I've got to tow a planter up to Oregon and then continue on home. I love the feeling I get knowing I have 30 hours of open road ahead of me. Look out Nevada.

Don't forget I have no cell phone and not even a CB radio to yak with the truckers.

Not Down With It

As I sit here in LAX, I've discovered a horrifying trend that needs to be stopped. I was people watching and a family caught my attention. You may be familiar with this particular family. They were all wearing the same thing! Old Navy shirts, sweatpants and the real kicker, matching Crocs. It was terrible. I felt physically ill afterward. The only thing that could have been worse would have been matching fanny packs. Parents you must stop this before it reaches epidemic proportions.

Back To The Stone Age

So here I am sitting at the airport waiting for my flight trying to figure out if my latest dilemma is a good thing or a bad thing. I have a 6AM flight this morning so I had to leave my house around 2:30AM. I got all the way to the Spokane airport only to find I didn't bring my phone. Obviously there was no way I could turn around and go get it. This could be a huge problem since I don't have any idea how long I will be gone. Of course no phone will be peaceful but I'm really dreading getting back home to find a phone so full of messages, it will take until Yom Kippur to answer them all.

Some Nice Baked Goods

I think that some nice baked goods would really brighten my disposition on life. Thanks for the idea Ande. Please feel free to donate your spare pastries to my coffer.

Humility: A Virtue?

There has been a lot of interest about how the phone call turned out. The best way to explain is visually:

One word: Humbling

And that ladies is why we guys have a hard time asking you out.

I Will Never Get Off The Short Bus

There is no way any of you ladies out there will understand this posting. There is a special place in heaven for us men. Do you have any idea how hard it is to call up a girl and ask her out. Absolutely terrifying. Now try calling a girl you have never met before and asking her out. There was one kind soul out there that is trying to find me a date and she rounded up a number for me. I literally sat in front of my phone for over an hour strategizing my conversation. That did absolutely nothing to benefit me. Once on the phone, I sure I came across as a slow-bus lifetime rider. So to all of you wives out there, hug your husbands and thank them for making fools out of themselves in order to meet you. To all you single ladies, if you are wondering why guys don't call the reason is we are mortified. If you do get a call cherish it because that dude was sweating it the whole time.

I used to think that the females had the hard job of delivering a baby, but in comparison to making a blind phone call, having a kid is about the same.

I'm just kidding. There is no comparison. The phone call is way worse.

Accident Prone

I had to steal this picture from my niece and nephews' site. I think that Kam Bam and Coop-a-loop did a terrific job of first aid. It probably would have taken me at least two boxes of band aids to get it right and I'm an eagle scout. It made me reminisce about some unfortunate injuries that for the most part I wrought upon myself. There was the broken wrist from a sabbath day skateboard accident in college. I followed that up a year later by breaking the same wrist when a combine attacked me (in my defense my dad taught me how to be an idiot). I was bit in the Snake River by a Cadillac that required stitches on my leg. For some reason I have had a number of head injuries. I know most of you can now connect the dots at to why I am the way am. One night after a dinner, in which undoubtedly there was some dare to see how many grapes, marshmallows, or whatever else was left on the table I could fit in my mouth, I challenged my dad to a wrestling match. I'm not sure who started it but my dad made sure he ended it. I was totally dominating him when he pulled the old rope-a-dope and body slammed me into the fire place. I split my head open but the best part was when my sister saw the blood, she puked. That was a nice addition. That required stitches (in my dad's defense he felt terrible and even volunteered to take me to the hospital). There was another time my brother and I were on the trampoline doing kung fu. We had a spinning clothesline nearby so being the genius that we were (and still are) we decided to move the tramp underneath it and take turns spinning it and seeing if we could time our jumps to clear the arms. Turns out my timing is pretty bad. Some more stitches in the head. I fear the day I go bald because me head is going to look like a Union Pacific train depot. I've decided that my unhealthy addiction to stitches stems from one incident in my childhood. I don't personally remember this near fatal experience but it was obviously traumatic. At the age of two or three I went with my mom and brother to Dr. Page's office. My brother was getting tested because my parents thought he might be "slow" (just kidding Brandon, we already knew you were slow). We were all in the exam room and my mom was talking to the doctor about my brother. I decided I was some sort of ninja bunny and did a flippity flop off the table. Apparently my mouth was open because I was so gnarly and smoked my bottom lip on a drawer. The good news was we didn't have to wait to see the doctor. A few stitches in the lip later and I was good as new, or so I thought. To this day I have that scare on my lower lip the reminds of I was the original extreme athlete.

I also have stories that involve my nose and church ball, my nose and a crow bar, and my ear and a blood-thirsty Q-tip if you are so inclined.

Life Is A Pair Of Irrigation Boots

Lately I've been doing a lot of pondering on my so called life. I suppose that is a result of standing on back of a planter in 100 degree plus temps. There has been one thing that keeps floating to the top of my settling pond of a brain. Is there ever a point in life when a person feels truly in control? I have a good job, a decent income, and am a chiseled specimen of what man should be but I can't seem to shake a feeling similar to falling in a ditch and filling your irrigation boots up with water then when you walk your feet make a squishy noise and you can't get your boots off because when you pull there is too much suction (metaphorically speaking). I'm not real sure where I was going with that. My train of thought jumped the track and is headed for Bombay.

Toss Up?

It sure started out shaky. I don't know if Palin was nervous or what but the first few minutes of the debate were a bit sketchy. It appeared that she got stronger and more comfortable as the night went along which was a relief. Both Biden and Palin had some zingers and both got knocked around. I don't know if there is any way to declare a clear-cut winner. I think she did a good job of getting away from being just a sideshow to a real factor in this election. This debate wasn't as heated as last week's presidential debate but it was still entertaining.


Do you really think Joe Biden really spends a lot of time in Home Depot?