If Logan, I gan too!

After my unintentional sabatical to blogatory (where the unblogtized are damned by their mediocrity) I have returned. Without the guidance of Virgil I have ventured through at least several circles. My long absence has perhaps alienated me from my readers, which is unfortunate. However, regardless of visits, my blog has been resesitated and has been released from urgent care. I will be the personal steward of this blog to insure its full recovery and future health. If for no other reason, it is cathartic.

Now to the bread. Going through the poverty of being a college student, I acquired certain habits. Like many of the inpoverished, I did/do my best to be frugalish. Marshmellow Maties became my soul maties. Milk crates became book shelves. Stop. ........Intermission.........My integrity prevents me from ever buying crap bread. Being such a staple, I feel it is important to get a good bread. In fact I have been going steady with a specific brand for a couple of years. Its name will be changed to protect its identity. I would hate for the following gripe to prevent anybody from endulging in its grainy goodness. ~ One unremarkable afternoon I was merely repeating the daily custom to which I had settled. My hour respite from the labors of my occupation had subsided in a sufficient fashion as to permit me to return to my flat for supper. Daily this action occured during the period of my day set aside for lunch. Sandwich and stringcheese and yogurt and ritz. With anticipation I pealed the heal, which I reserved for a special treat to be consumed indepently, only to be filled with cold shivers. A gapeing cavity, nary a bit less girthy than a corpulent child's fist. Though I felt that the very claws of a culinary hell had ripped out the soul of my sandwich, I did not relent. It vexed me so, but I would not allow it the satisfaction of depriving me of a well earned meal. Though each meal met me with hemoraging jelly and mustard, I finished the hole loaf.

Announcing...A New Reality Show

As I have now settled in the the mirth that is a job with a steady schedule, off nights and weekends, I have come to a certain dilema. I have a lot of time on my hands. I would like to propose a challenge. Whom ever can invent of bring to my attention the coolest(and hopefully feasable) hobby, wins exclusive filming rights to the reality show based upon my pursuits of said hobby. Gladiators ready?.............................

Tared and Feathered...This time it's melon.

Ah summer in Logan. Scenic mountain vistas random guys walking into my apartment, losing a gallon of milk in my house the day after I buy it. It's like something right out of Mr. Belvedere. Except instead of a portly butler providing comic relief, I am my own butler. Instead of a cheery family, a pile of laundry, and instead of a lucrative TV contract, not a lucrative TV contract. In an effort to displace the aroma of my dinner of Mac & Cheese I lit my newly acquired honey do melon scented candle. Inorder to permit the wax to flow away from the wicks, I held the giant candle in my hands. Carefully, I manuvered the wax down the molten channels. Suddenly a shrill cry pierced the air as searing candle wax ran up my arm, obviously determined to strike me in the heart, or possibly elbow. With the highly toned skill of an unskilled ninja, I thrust my smoldering appendage in the cold water cascading from my kitchen faucet. End of Part I

"I'M A REAL BOOOOoooooyyyyy!!!!!"

Well folks, after a month of diligent searching, calling, networking, internetting, pontificating, recreating, yodeling, emboldening, but never ebriating, I have struck a deal. It turns out that some sucker is willing to give me dollar bills money...in American currency! That's right I am employed. Now to answer any FAQ in embyro I will not be working as a tinker, a cobbler, a cooper or a haberdasher. On the contrary, I will be working as a sort of 3-in-1 swiss-many-jobs-dealy-guy. My employer is worldwide Commercial Real Estate Tycoonery, NAI. Here is where the true adventure begins: I must move to a place with a Login name...or rather, a Logan name. In an attempt to maintain ties and remove flies I will be vigilante in my bloggish ways for those that want to keep a close eye on the perilous (and hopefully lucrative) Cache County Collage of Carefully Collected Conflagration of Craziness.
And if all goes well...........................................

A pology.

Well folks, as I am sure that at least I noticed, I was not present at the location of the thing that happened on the appointed choir day. It may, or may not have mattered. The point here is that the period of time that fell between Wednsday and Thursday at 4:00pm was rubish. As my dayplanner tattoo would state, I graduate in exactly one week. This year they have added a graduation requirement of passing all of one's classes. For the past month I have been feverishly working in sometimes hellish circumstances to acomplish this great goal. Not completley unlike the thousands overwhelmed by malaria while digging the Panama canal. I have been so consumed with projects and tests and homework that the Great and Terrible paper of 'ought-six was postponed nearly to my own personal death, or not graduating and recycling my roomates Mtn. Dew cans to pay the rent. Thursday at 4:00 I was to turn in a 15 page research paper. As of Wednsday at 1:00pm I had not so much as done the requisite research. I papered like the dickens over the next 26ish hours, LIKE THE VERY DICKENS. From 2:00pm-1:00am on Weds. and again 7:30am-3:30pm on Thurday. I raced up to the Campus and delivered the object of loathe to my Professor's cubby within minutes of its due time. My brains feel like they got dragged behind a dragster across lava filled with shards of explosive glass.

This post is brought to you by a seed of thought planted into my brain after reading T.R.'s post.

At similar times in my life I have contemplated the lucrative potential of selling my body. However, such thoughts last about as long as I can balance a wad of paper in the campfire. Plus the idea of stabbing myself for money seems a little childish. I would rather drink a glass of rancid hotdog water.(about that...) There is always recycling. I try and recycle money by taking it back from the cashier after I buy something. It is a fun little game where I smile and hand the nice lady in the fun vest my dollar. The twist comes when I get nervious and snatch it back. Sure, I've never actually been able to "buy" anything this way, but I have preserved my dollar...but I digress...I will never need to employ such a cunning strategy of fiscal preservation because I will soon graduate. At which point I hope to have a "real job".

Greetings, Greetings Fellow Stargazers!

Just as the tides ebb and flow with the waxing and waning of the moon, so too do my opportunitities to blog come and go with the waxing of school work and the waning of Wayne from the WonderYears(he will always be "butthead" to me). And now for the long awaited dance of joy spawned by the vanquishment of Squatter Chad. He infected my apartment, like a parasitic fungus, incubated his filth and squalor in my living room(he took living room way to literally) for over a month. While I struggled to launch my own personal Bay of Pigs, his communistic empire of decay spread. He had all of the benefits of Kato Kalin, without the negative media presure. He came hidden in a Trojan Horse of pity. "Oh, I just need to get back on my feet". I didn't buy it. I wouldn't take it if you gave it to me, but what choice did I have. Fortunatley my grass loving landdespot was keen enough to notice that Squatter Chad had been living in our livingroom for over month without so much as keeping his dirty socks of the floor, let alone pay rent, go to school, get a job. In fact all that SquatterChad seemed to be acomplishing was stealing my air. I am sure his mom is very proud. Much like any slacker's parents would be. I have achieved carthisis in his flight.

The names are made up but the problems are real...

While playfully pondering the present plan to pursue pleasant paradise post-hast past Reno, I became intrigued by the mystery of *Dun dun DUN!* Three Fingered Tony. This picture is Al Capone, he is not Tony, but he is a gangster. Legend goes that back in the 20's and 30's hundred of mafia victims were dropped into the deep dark waters of Tahoe. They say the deep water and cold temperature have prevented the bodies from float to the top and even preserved them. creepy eh? I say Tahoe or Bust! Roadtripapalooza 2006!

Awesome is the Natural enemy of the beaver...I mean of stuff that is lame

Well gang, seeing that we are both cool and also, not beavers I think it is imperative that we create something to inform the world of our humble coolness. For example a bowling team with a clever name like "not beavers" or our own magazine pyramid scam. After all, you're not cool unless a sizeable portion of all your profits goes to me. Or...here is the good one... Road Trippallooza '06! That's right friends, spring break gives us the blessed opportunity to pool our resources and resource our pools. Maybe this pic will inspire an unprecidented string of uninterupted amesome ideas. I am thinking San Fran... or Grand Cany(on) or Michi gan... catamaran... dental plan?

Salt Lake is boring...like being on fire

True or False: Why are people so friggin' crazy?

see bottom for answer

Thanks to the inheriant poverty and desperation of college life, of which I am a willing participant, I have spent some time as an indentured servant to a certain unnamed, "famous" store where "footwear" is sold. For legal reasons, this shoestore chose to remain annonymous and have it's voice discised like in those in the old Frosted Flakes comercials....moving right along...
Soufleé waxes philosophical:
In the spanish language, nouns have gender. ie silla(chair) is a chic. The adjectives describing the noun must match the gender where applicable. The same is true with people men have masculine adjectives to describe them. If two flamers are talking in spanish, do they use an adjective that suits their God-given genetics? or does their limp-wristed dispostion take priority? A shoe store sure does make a guy think.

answer from quiz: true, some people are crazybecause it entertains(like homeless people) others are crazy because all the sane jobs were taken.

Greeting Etiquite

When Greeting Etiquite it is important to keep in mind what sort of relationship you have with Etiquite. Is a mere smile and shake of Etiquite's hand sufficient or is a European kiss on the cheek expected............And now my point(at least if I had one this would be it). At what point(see I knew I had a point) does a seasonal greeting lose its effectiveness? Friday at the shoe store of my employ, I was wished a Happy New Year. Isn't it a bit late for that? I mean, I have already a full week to screw up the year. I liken it to a man that inquires of a woman's pregnancy when he full well knows that she had a baby last week. I guess I'll let it slide...this time.

The "cool" guy and the mischievous Maverick

As a gesture of pure magnamimity, I will bestow all of you, my dear readers, with some council on this, the last pre-spring semester Wednesday of 2006. (how quickly they come and vanish into the night)
In highschool a group of my friends and I devised a labeling system to describe those who were well aware of their own coolness. Once you had reached the pinacle of your self-decribed and advertisted coolness, we would sarcasticly refer to you as "CG" and then we would follow you around doing a very odd ogre-like gesture. Think a more different version of the chicken dance of Arrested Development fame. I guess it was a little childish, but then again, so was highschool. Oh yeah, the warning...I was going to share an amusing ancedote about how I was refueling my rig at a Maverick Country Store that I frequent. While washing my bug ridden windshield, I was overcome with uneasiness and panic at the sound of a torrent of liquid spewing profusely from my vehicle. I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. By that I mean I went to investigate the source of the fluidic sound of chaos only to find that my gas tank had overflown. The auto-shut off(the gas pump, not my auto) had malfunctioned(not unlike when Satan makes us malfunction) and regular unleaded was cascading down my vehicle into a flamable pool on the ground. Its rather unfortunate that I don't have the time to share that anecdote with you. Your loss.

 

The Cosmic Battle of the butterfly of summer and the brute of winter

This is what happens when you don't have a digital camera, an analog camera of any worth, or really dexterous fingers and an etch-a-sketch. Halloween 2004

This is what happens when you don't have a digital camera, a analog camera of any worth, or really dexterous fingers and an etch-a-sketch. Halloween 2004