More then Meets the Eye

I bid each one of you a eerily heartfelt hello this All Hallow's Eve with the exception of Sasser, who has gone on the record and eloquently stated his displeasure for Halloween. I will instead wish him a happy early Election Day.

I hope the month of October treated (no pun intended) you all lovingly with few tricks (pun intended). I am now free of my bi-weekly treks to Fruitland and Nampa now, although I have to say I will miss the playful little scamps I taught for the last couple months. But I will move on, and look forward to the days when I finally get paid for my job at Boise State. Sadly, nothing else is new save for the fact I do have more then one hundred dollars in my checking account.

I'm sure we all have fond memories of Trick-or-Treating, family get togethers, or waking up November 1st in a pool of chocolate-and-nougat-laden vomit (November first is definitely the equivolent to a hang over for a six year old)...and since none of you want to hear a few of mine, here they are anyway:

In my twenty three Halloweens I must say most of my memories have to do with being a spoiled greedy snot, only out to glean as much candy from strangers as I possibly could, no matter the harm to assuredly come to my friends or parents. Sure, there was the year I had bronchitis and poorly chose a costume wrought with animal hair, and the year I had the flu and could not stop projectile vomiting on my neon color crayon outft, but those instances are quite overshadowed by the year I threw a fit when I wanted to be a robot and Garfield the cat, and my parents had no choice but to let me out of the house dressed as a robotic cartoon cat, which is of course an abomination in the face of the lord. Out of the Seven Deadly Sins, I'm sure I have unwittingly (or purposefully!) broken 6.5 of them, even as a child. Then of course, how could I forget the year my friend and I both went as ninja turtles...I watched as he was promptly confronted by a bully, got the crap beat out of him, knocked backwards onto the mixing bowl on his back he utilized as a shell and had his candy stolen. He deserved it though. I can't think of the reason right now, but I'm sure I can rationalize it with something at a later time. I must say though, that Halloween just doesn't have the charm and excitment it used to, and I don't know why. I still find a poor excuse for a cotume to wear and I still find my mom's stash of candy to raid and stuff myself sick with as I watch Halloween specials until midnight. The only thing that has changed is the fact the only thing I want to do on Halloween night is sit on my parents' roof with a garden hose, soaking the unwitting youngsters who walk up the path to their oblivion.

Enough of my memories, we all know that I only wrote about Halloween because I can't think of anything funny to rant about. Until now (Maybe...I can guarantee nothing):

Yesterday afternoon I came across this, which caught my eye and gave me a great deal of interest for obvious reasons. I was quite surprised the word 'Hobbit' is now a noun in the english language to describe a short person. I'm sure all the Migets and dwarfs of the world are now either up in arms over being called a Hobbit, or now rejoice in the fact they can now find their niche by naming their kid 'Frodo'. Either way I recognize this as yet another sign God is displeased with us and is sending his son to wipe the world clean. I wonder if he ever had the notion the entire planet would turn into "Soddom and Gomorah: The Theme Park". You know, come to think of it the only thing that will most likely come from the Hobbits' discovery is the fact all the LoTR dorks will start claiming the events in the books really happened and Hobbits are real. Actually, I'd probably be more frightened of a dude in a Gandalf suit telling me to join his religion then Satan. Unless Satan was naked of course.

I now shake my head in shame as I re-read yet another poor excuse for a newsletter. I assure you, as soon as something actually funny happens to me, you will all hear of it.

This is Zach, this time PLEADING with you all saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

I bent my Wookie

Once again the customary hello to all of you, and I give you the news that I am still alive and have not returned to the Boise State Parking Office to say 'Good Day' to the useless skaggs that work there utilizing the rear bumper of my Blazer to ask them just how I get the unwashable muscelage off my window they used to make my impound notice stick. (That has to be one of the longest senteces I've ever written. Re-read it now to make sure you didn't forget the beginning.)

Because my busy schedule prevents me from keeping a keen eye out for things that piss me off, 1) My blood pressure has probably gone down a bit, 2) I am not going to apologize for the tardiness of this newsletter, and 3) I am forced to present to you a written piece done for my English 102 class. I think it is quite entertaining and it summarizes just how the portrait of 'Lauren' got on my wall. My English Professor said it was "Awesome. Fun." Despite the lack of excitement conveyed by her message written on a violet stcky pad, I tell myself she meant what she wrote.

So now, with out further stalling....use the restroom, grab a snack, and prepare to read my uninspiring writings!

I remember it like it was yesterday...It was five in the morning, Saturday the 6th of December 2003. My band had just played what was to be our final show, and a late/early celebratory/mourning meal had ended at a local 24-hour restauraunt. I had seen the sign at McDonald's for at least a month, and I had vowed it would be mine. I turned down the adjacent street, turning off my headlights (or 'stealth mode' as some say) but left the car running in anticipation of a speedy getaway. I knew it was all in my head, but images of James Bond lurking in a Russian stronghold after just squeezing out of an easily escapably overly-elaborate death scheme kept running through my mind. I had to get that sign. I had to see is hangning on my wall. I had a spot picked out and everything... for that reason alone there was to be no turning back. I peered out around the corner of the wall separating the establishment from the residential area where my car was parked a short distance away.

The morning crew was arriving, loading and unloading trucks no doubt filled with greasy pre-cooked Big Macs and Quarter Pounders (and succulent McChicken Sandwich patties!), the stench of bacon and sausage filling the air as the McDonald's first shift employees began to prepare for the oncoming breakfast rush. I pressed myself against the wall and shimmied through the untrimmed foliage of weeds and underbrush surrounding 'It'. It was mine. I reached down and plucked it from it's wire frame, turning around in a hurry to avoid detection by the truck crew. I tripped over a sprikler head but regained my balance as I sped towards my still running vehicle. I laughed with malicious glee as I made the short trek back to my apartment. I sprinted up the steps and slammed the door, not caring in the least if I awoke the seldom seen broom-weilder below me. Still giggling, I hung the poster upon my wall...it was much bigger then I originally thought, but the place I had chosen was perfect. I stepped back a bit, taking in the glorious, heartwarming visage of the cippled child preparing to take a swing at a ball on a tee with the inscription "I'm a Home Run Hitter." I smiled, then noticed for the first time the text written on the mottom of the sign, covered up by the weeds this priceless artifact had called home until ten short minutes ago.

"I beleive in Miracles." I paused shortly, then read on. "A disease left me blind and in a wheelchair, but McMiraclefield gave me a chance to play the game I love--Baseball." "Love Lauren." it was signed. I stared at the quote and felt instant pity seep into my soul. All the heroics I just underwent to obtain this Holy Grail, not unlike Indiana Jones or Lara Croft (sans the feminine parts) flew out the window like so many proverbial freed parakeets. I stewed for a moment before grabbing the nearest pair of scissors. I snipped away at the thick material, freeing the top half from the conscience-offending quote at the bottom and immediately felt much better. It remained there for many months until I decided to rejoin the picture as a whole in order to be inspired, as well as to realize "Well, it could be worse." Long Live Lauren and his/her love of Baseball and the McMiraclefield!

There, it's over....You should have gotten a snack.

This is Zach saying "Please don't add me to your block list."