Hey yall it's Paula Deen and ta-day we're cookin up some southern-style grits-n'bits with a side of mashed pa'taters! Ooooh yall, it's gunna be so gooood!

Paula's accent is SO out of control on her show. Why do I know this? Because I'm watching the food network at 5:32 a.m. and I can't pull myself away from the force that is her accent. It's disgustingly moronic and makes people from the South seem REALLY stupid (that's assuming Southerners even claim her).

But what do I care, and more importantly, why am I awake at 5:33 a.m.? Weird story, brace yourself.

For starters, I'm in Galva right now. I've been here since the 22nd and will continue to be here until the 30th. That's a lot of quality family time, I know. I have this weird urgency to be around my family WHENEVER I can. We're like that.

So, I'm on vacation from work until the 3rd and am basking in all that is Christmas and laziness in G-ville until it's time to go back to Chicago.

Anyway, so a lot of "firsts" have happened to me during my time here in Galva. The first first is that I'm horrendously ill. Okay ummm....I'm NEVER sick. I'm always disease and bacteria free and whenever I do get sick it's a major, major event because it so rarely happens. AND if it does happen, it's always an illness that's to the EXTREME. Never a slight cold, never a cough, never a tummy ache. I don't even know what a tummy ache feels like. If my tummy has ever ached it's because I had severe food poisoning or was out-of-control drunk or a pesky thing I call liver failure. Other than that, I never have tummy aches.

Well, somehow I've managed to get the flu. It's been a veryyyy ugly scene and I have no understanding of how it chose me. I mean, no one around me has the flu and there's no plague going around Galva right now except teen pregnancy.

But somehow the flu manages to find me. And let me tell you, it's been an awful experience. Food has no meaning and water just adds to the drama. I feel like my stomach is a big cauldron that's brewing over the top, so whenever I drink water it just adds to the boil and makes things even worse. So yes, two of the main necessities to sustaining life hold no significance to me. I am, however, able to breathe so the whole inhale, exhale, oxygen thing has kept my pulse steady. Such a saving grace.

Another first is that I slept with my clothes on last night. It was a really strange experience. Some fam came over last night and we did even more gift exchanging and whatnot, so I thought it necessary to atleast make myself be presentable and fully-clothed, so I put on some duds, put some gel in my hair, and flashed the mirror a winning smile. Perfect. So I'm doing the whole scene when I start to feel like I'm going to pass out. So I get up, leave the party, go upstairs, and lay down in bed.

Um, I must have literally passed out in bed because I woke up 6 hours later. It was like 3 a.m. and I still have all of my clothes on. Does this bother me? Usually, but for some reason I was perfectly fine with the thought of having about 9 articles of clothing on, including shoes, and remained in bed. Every time I tossed and turned I thought to myself-THIS IS SO WEIRD. I HAVE ALL OF MY CLOTHES ON. DO SOMETHING.

In addition, the entire time my body felt like a drying sponge that desperately needed moisture in order to maintain a heartbeat. But do I get myself some water?

NO.

I can't move.

I'm drying up.

Plus, it was as hot as a bitch in my room because the heat was on full blast for whatever reason, so I was sweating out the last remaining beads of moisture I had in my body...probably due to the fact that I was fully-clothed and under about 90 blankets.

And the entire time all I could think about was:

A) Jumping into a pool full of orange Gatorade and electrolytes, and
B) the song, O Come All Ye Faithful.

I have no idea why that song was stuck in my head, but in my mind I kept belting out, OH COME LET US ADORE HIM!

So there I was, fully-dressed, drying up, incapable of movement, internally singing Christmas songs, and hosting a bladder full of urine that I was trying to overlook because if I even looked at a toilet I'd puke instantaneously.

About an hour ago I managed to take off all of my clothes. Does that excite you? It shouldn't because my body hasn't seen water, let alone soap in about 2.5 days.

Yes, these are the conditions that I allow myself to dwell in. My family is concerned and are probably contacting a priest as we speak.

Please let me be possessed, that would make much more sense.

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel completely ugly and inadequate?

Today is the day.

Kelly: I find it really weird that you have a scarf wrapped around your head like a hat.
Ryan: Old women don't find it weird!
Kelly: You're not an old woman.
Ryan: Well...the person on the elevator didn't find it weird either.
Kelly: It still sounds weird.
Ryan: You sound weird.
Kelly: I have to go.
Click.

There's always so much mumbo-jumbo about love being cold, warm, light, dark...it's stupid, really.

I sleep alone all the time and am constantly cold. Doesn't mean I'm without.

Buster keeps me warm.

I barely see the light of day anymore and it's always dark when I desperately need to see, but does it matter?

No.

The blue glare from my alarm clock pulls a double trick...a cold blue read but yet a bright light guide.

I turn the tone down so that I can sleep better, it's darker, but when I dream about snakes the leftover light helps me see that they're really not there.

Winter.

So blue.

And snakes.

So scary.

GUESS WHAT I JUST REALIZED?

I'm becoming a complete stalker. Yes, you heard it here first.

Why do I find myself watching other people's video facebook wallposts? Or is it Facebook video wallposts? Either way, they're not to me, they're not about me, and sometimes...I don't even know who the people are that are on them.

But do I watch them?

YES.

a;lksdfj

It's really a bad thing. These social networking sites are so out of control. Wait a second...I'M OUT OF CONTROL. That's the real truth.

I'm way too nosey for my own good. I need less information, people...less information.

Mind ya bizz.

What fun would there be in life if we never took any risks?

Let me restate that because it's painting an entirely different picture than my personal philosophy...

Okay, so, risks. I'm torn. Shit, I can't even restate that sentence because I can't make up my mind. I mean, I don't take risks. Ever. I hate them. If something sounds risky, I'm out. Usually...

I typically fear the unknown. I'm a scared, scared boy. But I'm also a man. I live my life day-to-day doing what I have to do to survive, and at some points, to be happy.

I also like knowing, seeing, experiencing new things. How would I get anywhere without being blind? I feel my way, I put myself out, I take a step forward. I'm there.

And it's good.

But to fly by the seat of my pants is a big mistake. I've learned it a time or two as of late. Bad idea. Super bad. Don't do it.

But I wouldn't be where I am today without assuming the risks I have in the past. Yes, it's been a sucky migration from the good to bad, bad to good, and yes, I just said sucky.

Are fate and risk related? Am I screwing with fate with every decision I make? What if I change my mind about things a thousand times? Does my fate remain untouched? Oh man, best of luck to me.

I hope I don't get hit by a bus.

I hate it when people fart in a bar.

That shit stanks.

Sometimes I wish that I could live at home. Forever.

It's strange, I know, but every time I go home to see the family, I have such a hard time coming back to my apartment. Sure I have Buster and a lot of great friends to keep me company in Chicago, but there's something about being at home that is so comforting and relaxing and warm...it's hard to leave.

And I'm usually never homesick--but lately I have been.

I'm OK with that, too. I can go home any time I want and I can spend as much time with my family as I need to, and that helps.

I hate to admit that I'm a HUGE Momma's boy, but I SO am.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change that fact for the world. I'm so so lucky to have such a strong relationship with my parents. They mean the world to me, as do the rest of the Sumner clan.

I'm a grown man, I take care of my own responsibilities, I pay my own bills, I lead my own life...

But damn, it's so nice to skip all of that and just sit at the kitchen table and talk to my parents about life and all of its blessings and shortcomings.

Wait...

Getting homesick again.

I'm cold.

And tired.

Amid winter, I feel...like smiling.

I feel like my life, for once, is circulating.

The O. The big O.

I control it. I keep it. I maintain.

I feel...like I've achieved something.

This smile is real, you know.

The mirror knows me. And I it.

I see the best even when the best didn't see me.

And still I smile. A real smile.

I smile not in looking back, but looking ahead.

It's great, isn't it? This.

This life.

It keeps giving.




This gift.

I was walking outside today and a Christmas tune shuffled its way onto my Ipod. It was sad, but merry at the same time. Please come home for Christmas. It made me think about love.

It makes me a little jealous that I don't have any. Well, I shouldn't say that. It's not that I don't have love. I have plenty of love.

Yet, no one to love as my own.

At the same time, I'm not lonely. Not depressed.

Just not in love.

I'd really like to be in love, though. To have someone that I connect with. Someone who's here. With me.

There are so many people on the scene, looking for...well I don't know what they're looking for, but it usually doesn't align with my own intentions.

I want to skip that scene. Be above it. Be blind to it all.

My focus, my energy on one person.

My person.

Until then, love is but a warm dream on a very cold night.

So, I'm typically non-Facebook-loving and today is no exception. While I do use Facebook to communicate with my friends and such, I still feel like it's a very shady, sneaky site that is capitalizing off of boredom. I mean, really, who in their right mind really wants people to know SO much about them? Every move you make on Facebook is monitored and recorded, and if you elect to, people can read about your activity just by logging on.

At the same time, it's the users who give the site its power. The minute someone breaks up with someone, I swear, their first strategic move is to log-on and change their relationship status on Facebook. They don't call their Mom, they don't sob into a pillow. Boom! Facebook it.

And wall posts. Oh my god, so ingenious. I love it when people communicate six or seven times a day via Facebook wall posts. Almost as if it were an instant messaging device. Seriously. Call these people to communicate to them, or better yet, make it a 3D experience!

I'm not playing innocent here, I've done ALL of these things and more, but why do I do it? I seriously have no idea. Brainwashed? A generational norm? A generational expectancy? Convenience?

Who knows. But I want to slap my hand every time I find myself using Facebook to look at the world.

And what's up with those gifts? Seriously, a dollar? It costs a dollar to give someone a stupid little graphic the size of a stamp? And they say there's a "limited edition"...like they're actual, physical gifts? No, they're not. AT ALL. They're something that can be replicated an infinite amount of times and would never cost a single cent in any market imaginable. Yet Facebook makes it possible to charge someone A DOLLAR for one.

And people buy them.

Do college students have such disposable incomes that they can be like, "Oh that graphic of a vodka shot is TOTALLY worth this measly dollar that's just lying around in my bank account."

SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.

Take that dollar and give it to a bum on the street if that's your attitude. Any way the bum chooses to spend that dollar will be more worthwhile than giving it to Zuckenburg or whoever that teen billionaire is. Or better yet, don't use it and wait for something WORTHWHILE to spend it on. Send it to Darfur, they could be using some vodka shot graphics right about now.

Better yet, send it to me.

I'm sorry, but if I hear one more story about that stupid Iggy dog that Ellen Degeneres has been boo-hooing about and ET has been exclusively covering for weeks post-eviction, I'm going to...do something.

I don't know what, but it will be something.

Seriously people, there's a plethora of things to be worried about, and some stupid dog that has been bounced from a few homes isn't worthy of our time or attention.

I'm sure whatever mansion that dog winds up in will be perfectly adequate.

Besides, he ain't got no bills to pay!

That's the real world talking...

I'm so disheartened and disgusted by the details of San Francisco's oil spill. Bunker oil is the crudest and most polluting oil available, yet the oil industry is both consuming and transporting this oil globally. Not to forget the simple carelessness of the tanker's captain has caused major, irreversible damage to our ecosystem, our wildlife, and our future. And this is only one spill out of the hundreds of spills within the last 5 years.

Many may not know this but I am extremely conscious and protective of the state of our world's environment. With our current loser President, issues concerning the environment have been overlooked, under-budgeted, and greatly disregarded.

I really need to research the stance of each presidential candidate concerning environmental issues, plans to help the welfare of wildlife and subsequent ecosystems, as well as strategic leadership goals to combat the effects of global warming. Of course, it would be easier to choose a candidate if Al Gore would inform me of his decision to run for President or as Vice President, because wherever he goes or whomever he backs, I will do the same.

There are MANY important issues that we need to follow carefully, however year after year environment-friendly or -concious presidential candidates are seen as the weak, unpopular, non-priority, or all together unimportant vote. The environment IS important. This world's integrity is what keeps us here, its what hosts all of our world's other problems like war, immigration, health care, and the fight for equality.

Vote with the environment in mind. If our environment crumbles, who really cares about civility?

Kill me now.

What's with all the baby names like Sophia, Isabella, or EmmaLee?

What happened to Meg, Patty, or Crystal?

Oh god, that reminds me. One time my sister was grounded because she used too much ketchup on her meatloaf! Ah ha ha.

I knew it was going to happen, too. My sister poured like the hugest BLOB of ketchup on her plate to dip her meatloaf into. My Dad goes, "If you don't use every last bit of that ketchup, you're grounded!"

She, of course, couldn't even come close to using it all because she used that much. So she was grounded for like a week.

My brothers and I laughed when she marched up to her room and bawled! We all shared a bedroom at this point in time so it was really annoying when she was still crying while I was trying to sleep. I threw a Pound Puppy at her and she snapped back QUIT ITTTTTTTTTT using a devil voice while still in a crying rage!

Such a baby.

My taste buds are finally developing.

I knew this to be true when the other day I had a little bit of mayonnaise on my finger and I licked it off without hesitation. That's a huge stride considering I used to despise mayonnaise in the worst way possible. But for some reason, over the last year or so, I somehow embraced it. And now apparently I'm okay with it in its rawest form. What's weird is that I sometimes hesitate to lick extra ketchup off my finger...and I love ketchup...just not raw. Calling condiments raw is weird, I know, but it's the only way I can explain it. So is licking stuff off your fingers, but apparently I do that alot, too.

That reminds me. When I was little and lived in the country, I used to be babysat by my neighbor down the road whom my sister and I lovingly referred to as "Grandma" even though she wasn't our real Grandma. She was, however, the Grandma of the other kids who lived right next to her, and since they all called her Grandma...we did too. I think those kids secretely hated my sister and I for this. Oh and many other reasons...

Anyway, so for lunch we ate Kraft macaroni and cheese and boiled hot dogs with ketchup almost every single day.

Everyday.

Not because that's the only food Grandma had in her cupboard, but because that's all my sister and I would eat. Literally. We were such brats. So, one day, we were all eating lunch (me, my sister, and Duane and Janet, the real grandchildren of Grandma). All of a sudden, Duane was like, "I'm not finishing lunch, I'm sick and tired of eating hot dogs!" Holy cow, Grandma turned around and snapped back, "You'll eat every last bite, ya little shit!" I'll never forget her little carpal'd finger pointing at his nose.

Now, before you call DCFS, Grandma was a very warm and loving old lady. She treated my sister and I like royalty and made us feel comfortable and loved at all times. However, it seemed like she was a little sick of her grandchildren, mostly because she had to watch those two brats for free.

So, I'll never forget that head turn, snap, and finger point. It was priceless. But that's not the point.

Duane stood his ground and just sat there with a half eaten hot dog on his plate. He looked at the ceiling, looked at the ground, pretended to read the magnets on the fridge even though they were way too far away to read, perfect eyesight or not. Grandma noticed his resistance, got up, took a bottle of ketchup (and I'll never forget this either, the brand of ketchup she bought was always spelled Catsup) and she poured the ketchup all over his plate in a contemporary design.

She then goes, "Clean your plate, Duane!" ...meaning Duane had to lick the ketchup off the plate with his tongue! All of it. Nauseating!

We perhaps should have called DCFS.

Anyway, what's even weirder was that Grandma had an old ice cream bucket that she kept by the door for "scraps." Anytime that my sister and I didn't finish our meal, we got to put the food in the scraps bucket. Grandma was also always peeling apples and potatoes and put the peelings in the bucket, too. (One time I was so hungry that I ate a few apple peelings straight from the scrap bucket. I did it even though I knew better...I was just hungry.) Well the real treat was that at the end of the day before we had to walk down the road back to our house, Grandma would take my sister to the pig pen and we would get to feed the piggies all of our scraps. Such a treat. Duane and Janet had to take a nap while we did this. HaHa, suckers!

Oh, one time a pig bit me! I tried to pick up this semi-newborn piggy and OH MY GOD that pig squealed so loud and ferociously, then the little sucker bit my arm! Hard, too! I started crying and Grandma somehow scaled the fence to come save me in the pig pen. I lied and told Grandma that the pig kicked me in the ribs, so she rushed me to the hospital which was like a hundred miles away since we lived out in the middle of a corn field. I only told her this because my Mom worked at the hospital and I wanted some M&M's that she kept in a jar at her desk.

I liked the green ones.

So life consuming. Why though?

I'd ask Oprah, but I feel like her response would be too lengthy and...personal.

I feel like it's behind every thought I have, every decision I make, every glimpse.

It's there, and it's annoying, and most times it's completely unnecessary.

When you look, you see what it is, or you see what you want it to be, and within it's walls there are things you're okay with, but more often its the things you hate or the things that detract.

But isn't it beautiful? It's supposed to be...even though I'd be a liar if I said they were all beautiful, no matter what it looked like.

But mine is different. Obviously.

Another day in, another sacrifice, another downfall, another bad decision, another step in the right direction.

Do they ever add up or is it a consistent plateau of disappointment...or a plateau of "almost there"...

And so FUN when you're out with others. It's the worst. It's a basis, a starting point.

And that's so very wrong for so many reasons.

But it's still there, and I still feel it, and I still see it.

I see it in others, and I see it in myself, and I just want it to go away and stop interuppting spontaneity.

I'm so close I can taste it, which can go either way.

I had a really weird dream last night. Well, maybe weird isn't the best word to describe it...I'll just say that it was an awakening. Yes, perfect. An awakening. So, all I really have to say is:

To the people in my life, thank you.

My family
John
Bennett
Jordan
Molly
Kelly
Molly C.

You're special.

I noticed the other day that Subway girl is going goth. Actually, let me explain Subway girl first. Um, she's not known for her intelligence. One time she made my sandwich without gloves on, and then when she rang me up at the cash register she used gloves. I didn't say anything about the whole thing because she only charged me $2.17 for my sandwich, chips, and drink...and looked at me as if this price was completely accurate. So, I let it slide and took advantage of the deal.

But that's not even the point; her attitude towards customers is of complete disinterest. You know, like a "what do you need" type tude. I want to be like, uh, Subway girl, I realize you're making 12 cents an hour, but you're giving the food I eat bad vibes and I'm not going to pay for a negative sandwich. So just smile at me and ask if I would like double meat. To which the answer is no.

Remember how I was just griping about the Walgreen's people being rude and disinterested? Well, she's not to that extreme but I group them together. I mean, I live in Chicago which has the largest sales tax in America and the least these workers could do is appreciate my business. C'mon!

Anyway, so I went to Subway last night and Subway girl was working, and I was a little depressed she hasn't recognized me yet. I mean, I have a wonderful relationship with Michelle at Panera on Fairbanks and Ohio. I go in there every morning before work and order the same thing: a cinnamon crunch bagel, sliced and toasted, to go. When Michelle sees me walk through the door, she gets my order ready and gets me to the front of the check out line. AND she tells me to TAKE CARE as I leave. She and I have a great relationship, and that's the kind of service I'd like to have.

What's even weirder is that when I went to Mezza for lunch the other day, which I do frequent quite often, one of the ladies who I didn't even recognize, remembered me somehow and goes "spicy chicken pita on wheat?" I was amazed. I didn't even know I stood out at that place and I probably hadn't even been there for a week.

I want this kind of treatment everywhere I go. I want people to know what I want, and then give it to me! With a smile.

Anyway, Subway girl. So I noticed last night that Subway girl now has a piercing in her lip. So when she says "And for you..." it's more like "Blah and fob you" because she's like conscious of the ring in her lip when she speaks so her lips stick together or something weird like that. And she added some fake extensions to her ponytail that hang over her shoulder. Neon pink ones, nonetheless. Very WalMart hair aisle. They kind of look like tentacles. Very Bratz.

OH GOD one time I ordered something with bacon on it and she microwaved the bacon for two minutes. They came out completely nuked agent orange style.

OH GOD one time I was at Subway in Iowa City and I was lucky enough to get some new kid that just started working there, and when I ordered a Subway Melt, he totally put on like 8 strips of bacon (heaven), thinking that it was a free-for-all topping or something because we all know that they have stringent quantity rules at Subway like...every 6 inch gets four slices of whatever meat, and the footlong gets eight, and if it's tuna then it's only two scoops, and so on and so forth.

OH GOD which reminds me, back to when I was at Mezza, the chick whose job it was to place the meat on the pita, was TOTALLY giving out large portions of meat on every pita. EXCEPT WHEN IT CAME TO MINE, she actually thought she put too much on and she ended up taking some off! I was so pissed. I thought I didn't get enough as it was, and then she goes and takes some off! Ugh!

It was so not fair.

Anyway back to Subway girl. Um...I have to go.

Now, what's weird about this is that I was actually at the club "Barracuda" in NYC when Candis Cayne performed the actual number for the "God Warrior" herself, which is what she is referring to and re-enacting in this video. The God Warrior, her husband, and her daughter Ashley sat next to John, Robbie, and I at the club, and were surprisingly interested in talking to us. Later we met Candis...whose fingers were abnormally long but she was still very nice, and strangely pretty.

Quite a memory.

Here are some thoughts I've been having lately:

-I'll never quite be able to understand electronic technology. The intelligence needed to hook up a tv, dvd player, home theatre system, and Tivo to succinctly harmonize in unison together is beyond my ability. The locations of all those wires sometimes keeps me up at night.

-Are grey walls too aesthetically-cold? Also, despite being an English major, I'm never confident in my ability to spell "grey" appropriately. I'm googling it right...now.

-Grey can be spelled either way, apparently, though I'm still uncomfortable with it's versatile usage.

-I really wish I liked coffee. But I really don't. At all. Coffee smells great, it's effects are great, and coffee houses are the most popular things since the invention of Kleenex. But I'm missing out. Because I don't like coffee. Not even the pretend kinds.

-SO often, gay men are SO dirty.

-Eye contact is a very critical and important means of communication/body language. I'm AWFUL at eye contact with strangers. How is it done effectively? I'd rather turn my head and NOT make potential eye contact, because sometimes eye contact is perceived as staring, or even worse, as a signal. Effective eye contact. HOW? Help...

-I need to invest in Lasik technology or perhaps utilize my vision benefits at work, since I'm paying for it anyway, because I could barely see Kathy Griffin's face last weekend and I was reasonably close. My eye sight is THAT bad. Squinting is perceived as glaring...which further complicates my eye contact issue. I'm not giving you the evil eye, I'm trying to see if you're ugly or not.

-I think people, for whatever reason, underestimate what a good catch I am. I could be with myself forever.

-Why are red carpets so glamorous? Doesn't it make you feel like you're walking through blood? Or lava?

-I don't know why, but hamburgers run through my mind allll the time.

-I greatly overlooked the necessity of having a variety of shoes.

-Sunday should always be a day of sleeping in, a good brunch, laundry, and watching a movie you've already seen.

-If I hear one more person talk about how their interests include "working out" I'm going to kill myself, or others. Including their trainer...or spotter. Or even the front desk receptionist. Get a life.

-Do you ever sympathize for the chickens that are riding in the back of those semis? I do. Aren't they cold? And hello, a little cramped.

-The people working at Walgreens need to be nicer. Just because you hate your job doesn't mean that you shouldn't offer me a bag to carry my pack of gum that I just purchased. Thank you. And yes, I want the receipt.

I'm tired of your lies,
I'm tired of your games,
I'm tired of both your Great Danes.

And another thing, I don't like your Moms
And another thing, I don't like your car.

You got a bad haircut
And your house smells weird.

And I'm tired of,
I'm tired of
you calling off our wedding.

It's over.



It's finally over...



:)

OK.

I'm disgruntled, and possibly suicidal so will someone please give me Owen Wilson's number so I can show him how to do it right the first time?

Anyway, so, I just did a little research about the things I eat day in and day out. Sidebar: I'm trying to eat healthier these days, because I'm SO obnoxiously obese.

Think Louie Anderson.

Okay, not true at all. I'm actually under-weight, I believe, but I'm trying to eat more strategically so that when I do workout-which is a battle in itself to get me to do-it atleast has some benefit to it and I'm not wasting my time.

So, I eat at Potbelly's like EVERY DAY, not because it's so delicious and mind-boggling that I must eat it whenever possible, but because it's close to where I work and is pretty good and mildly healthy. Okay, so almost everyday I get the smoked ham on wheat. Pretty okay, right?

WRONG.

I found out that the smoked ham has 8 grams of fat. That sounds acceptable, therefore I consumed it allll--like I was doing myself a favor by eating it. However, the addition of swiss cheese, which comes standard, adds on 18 grams of FAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look at all of them exclamation points! That means I'm pissed and bewildered! Imagine a wildebeast with a bladder full of Surge.

That's me.

Holy crap, that's a lot of fat for something I barely taste. To make matters even worse, add in mayo...which I always do...and that's a whopping 10 grams of fat per tablespoon! It would take 14 minutes of intense aerobic exercise just to burn off the mayo!

I ain't doing no aerobics! I used to do Tae-Bo until my Mom walked in on me doing some karate kicks with Billy Blanks and that was enough to scar me into thinking that babysitting was an acceptable form of exercise. Them baby's can be heavy.

Ever seen the Maury episodes? Duh...

"I feed my baby 8 hamburgers, 15 pancakes, 28 egg-omelettes, 8 gallons of Mr. Pibb, and Snow Caps for when Springer comes on. I can't help I feed him so much, he's HAWNGRY!"

This recent enlightenment is about as bad as the day I found out that I had been using my Dad's toothbrush for 2 months.

It was my choice. The first choice in a vignette of choices I made on my own behalf in a very long time.

It comes at a cost, but that cost is oh-so worth it. No price tag is even necessary.

In fact, it's priceless.

You don't know who you are. Who I speak of. You're all the same: you define me, I change for you, I exist for your purposes.

Not now. Not again.

I'm not helpless. I'm not a victim. I'm not anything to you.

But a memory.

Think of me when you need to, I will do the same.

I have no regrets. I think.

It's time to regain.

Dignity.

By persevering. Sticking through. Seeing what's next. In store.

And I really can't wait.

Your idea of romance is popping the can away from my face.

It's been said before that life is made of moments...all colliding together to get us to where we stand today. And that scares me.

Because it's true.

I think America is smiling knowing that our economy is growing stronger and that Beyonce fell down some stairs while ringing the alarm.

I think it's important to note that this is my 100th blog entry. Yes, there are actually 99 unimportant, random, confusing, and what I would often call "amusing, yet riveting" entries on this site. And this marks the 100th.

Maybe you should take a trip down memory lane and tell me what your most favorite entries are. Actually, try to narrow it down to just one.

I know...I'm asking a lot with the "only 1!" part, but at least try.

Oh yeah...this thing.

I haven't forgotten. I'm just a typical writer--sometimes in the mood. Sometimes not.

Yes, I referred to myself as a writer. Please do not laugh. I've had careers with that very word in the title.

And I'm running with it.

Let me know if you still read this bullshit. I have some alien stories that may or may not be publish-able.

I hesitate because, in reality, I don't want to piss off any aliens.

Whenever I watch movies that involve monsters, aliens, or anything else non-human, I always feel that I could potentially save my life by befriending the murderous, rampaging creature.

"Please don't kill me...you're just misunderstood. I get it. Friends?"

Although I tend to have mild rejection anxiety, so it's really not the best approach ever.

But then again my hide is on the line.

One thing that has really surprised me about NYC is how African Americans speak African...and not American.

It makes me recall the good ol'days, when I thought ebonics and phonetics were the same thing.

6 + 7 = Git-up out my crunk juice, bitch!

I cannot express this enough:

This is not our enemy:


This is our enemy.

I must admit...I am very glad that I do not partake in this:


Now, I'm not trying to say that I'm some squeaky-clean kid (I am) that has never done anything illegal (I haven't) in his entire life (entire). What I am trying to say is that, while I have many friends who do partake in drug use, which is fine, I always feel a little let down when it's the hard stuff. It's like when you meet someone new, and you think they're great, nice, whatever...then suddenly they're doing lines in front of you--it's a little awkward. And I would be lying if I didn't say a little disappointing, too. But disappointment isn't a judgement. It's an emotion.

People can't judge me for the fact that I don't do drugs, just as much as I can't judge them for doing drugs. I want the best for my friends, of course, so drugs don't necessarily keep that front and center.

You can imagine my frustration with this friend:



She is really skating on thin ice with me right now. Glad to see you finally hired a driver, Lindz-meister. Oh and call me! LYLAS.

I noticed something. Why is it when American citizens travel abroad for any amount of time, be it one week or one year, they feel the need to refer to the USA as "the states" ...???

Maybe it's just SO much easier, and so much cooler to just say the states, instead of that long, drawn out, and simply tedious reference of that 2-3 letter acronym. The states is just an easy lil quip. And God knows, we love quips! Can't you just see some dumb college girl being quippy?

I can.

Like, OMG, I forgot to call my Mom back in the states to tell her to send more birth control! Oopsies! Aren't I cute?

IDK, my BFF, Jill?

Sorry, I like that commercial. Cingular has some great commercials. So does Burger King.

I wish I was never broiled!

Anyway, another example, and for your reading pleasure, a typical Facebook message posted by a typical student studying abroad:

"Hey Stacy, I miss you so much! The last six months have just flown by here in Madagascar! But don't worry, I'll be back in the states tomorrow and you're the first person I want to see. Later Slut!"

The states? Not home, not the US, not AMERICA...but, the states. As if the US is now the foreign territory; so vague it's as if they've forgotten, or have gotten over, where they're from.

It's like when I try to think of the location of China, Japan, India, Iran on a map...ugh, bothersome. Let's just stick with Asia, alright? Whatever happened to Asia. Is it still Asia? One thing I know for sure is that anything goes in Amsterdam.

But, back to my main point, which centers around the fact that everyone but me sucks.

In a la-dee-da accent:
Oh God, a rooftop party in the states? I'll see if I have time. The Roos and the Dingos have booked-up most of my free time here in Sydney, Australia, Longitude 33/52 S and Latitude 151/12 E. I'll see if I have time to make it to...the states. Those 50 silly little things.

Our troops would be offended. And anytime you use the troops to your vantage during an argument, you automatically win, so case: Sumner.

Nothing is scarier in this world than the individuals whom idolize Paris Hilton.

I'd be a bold-faced liar if I didn't admit to daydreaming about the almighty dollar and it's capacity to blur the lines between dreams and realities, but at the same time, I'm scared.

Walking around NYC, I see Paris Hiltons. I see stupid people. People who contribute nothing to this Earth. Stupid people who wear big, white sunglasses and feel righteous with each passing glance of us commoners while thinking, "Ugh, you are simply not rich enough to know that this looks good."

As if white sunglasses make me stop to think, "What a revolutionary idea, I must get RICH in order to look as equally ridiculous."

And it's a shame I can see those shades coming from a mile away, yet I can't even recognize or at least pick out the overworked and underpaid, the single parents, the nurses, the taxi cab drivers...

Actually, I can pick out the taxi cab drivers. But usually only when they're driving taxis. Because otherwise, they blend in with society. A society that thrives off of knock-off Coach purses and bottled water.

The taxi cab drivers amaze me though with their bizarre sense of direction, yet humble themselves with their inescapable body odor.

And, for whatever reason, always keep the windows rolled up?

One time before leaving Wisconsin, I hugged my Grandpa even though he was covered in dirt and sweat from working all day on the farm. He knew he was dirty and sweaty...and he knew that I knew that he was dirty and sweaty.

But that didn't stop either of us from hugging. And you should probably know that he didn't hug people often.

So what I want to express is that my grandfather is nothing like Paris Hilton. And for that, I am grateful.

God rest his soul.

Let me leave you with this...is it just me, or do Mexican women laugh at everything?

Let me get a little Nelly Furtado on you for a second and tell you the reasons why I would like to be a bird.

So I was sitting on a park bench in front of this simple water fountain, which is basically just a black pole that shoots water out its top, and then attached are several disks descending down to the base. The shooting water eventually falls upon the disks and dribbles down to the bottom of the fountain. Very simple, but yet eloquently charming. Anyway, so these little sparrows kept flying around the fountain and would land onto the disks to bathe. With the splashing, misting, and dripping water going everywhere, the sparrows would just immerse themselves in the free-flying water droplets and ruffle their feathers, drink a little, and dip their little bird-faces into the water for a little spa-treatment.

It's weird, but I was so jealous. It's semi-muggy outside--a humid 77 degrees--so the water imagery of their refreshing tom-foolery made me want to leap out of my skin. It was quite bizarre. Plus, they don't even have to dry-off. They just spread their wings and zoom off. How do they fly so quickly from the starting line? Don't you have to build momentum? Marvels.

But it's these questions and activities that necessitate my metamorphosis. Also, it must be nice to pee and poop at the exact same time. Right? Plus, you can do it wherever you want, whenever you want...on whoever you want. Perfect.

Do birds even have asses? I've never seen one.

And oh, do birds get fat? Have you ever seen a bird and thought, "Hey...look at that fat bird."

I haven't.

Hey Kiddies.

Just when you thought it was safe, here I am, back at the keyboard. I apologize for the lack of a pulse...I've just been busy. Yep, very busy. I moved across the country to NYC, started a new job at a magazine, and am somehow trying to ressurect a whole new life...not that I needed a new one, the one I previously had just needed a few, minor adjustments. And buy minor adjustments I mean a new engine.

I must say that this new engine is exactly that: new. The accelerator is quick, the brakes are touchy, and the steering wheel is gripped tightly.

Instead of continuing on, writing cliche after cliche about cars and destinations and tune-ups, I'll stop for now.

I need to sit back and breathe-in this new air, allowing the creative energy to build naturally. I haven't felt creative lately and that's scary. I just need to get settled, rest my feet, and before you know it, I will be back to normal.

And, oh, in the meantime...please visit. I need some home bodies.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but American Idol is so very unappealing this year. No spunk, no pizazz--the only entertainment is watching a a 17 year old kid make a fool of himself and provide fodder for the national media.

How special.

Yes, LaKeisha can sing, and so can Melinda. Who cares though? A lot of people in this world can sing. Singing doesn't produce "idols" however the "X factor" does. Nobody has any edge or redeaming qualities, or quite simply, a personality. It's a shame, really.

Sometimes I'll look in my bathroom mirror while lip synching some long-winded love ballad and think to myself, "If only I was on American Idol."

Then they'd know who's boss.

Cuz I'm a BOSS.

The other day, a woman came up to me and asked "Is your hair lighter on the top?" I quickly said, "Uh, no." I thought she was asking if I dyed my hair, or something to that effect. Then I got to thinking...was she asking me if my hair was thinning at the top? For the last 6 months, I've been losing hair due to stress and some health issues, but I didn't realize it was noticeable to anyone but myself. I, fortunately, have rather thick hair, so if I were to lose a little, it wouldn't really hurt anything.

But holy hell apparently I'm balding at the speed of light.

Has anyone seen that commercial where this guy is offering his "professional" services of dealing with troubled teens? Basically, he will fix your unruly children. The commercial then cuts to this scenario of a conversation between a disgruntled daughter and her mother:

Daughter: I hate you!
Mother: *Words are muted so that we only see her violent reaction of flaling arms and stern looks*

I hope they get to the bottom of that.

So, I read in a men's magazine the other day that leather square-toed shoes are no longer considered cool. This isn't good news because, a year ago when square-toed shoes were the "must have" of the season, I bought three pairs. So I have all of these shoes and nowhere to wear them. I'm kind of mad at Details for that. How can things be so hit or miss so quickly? And then they said that the only place that sells square-toed shoes were cheap stores like Aldo. Ummm, I thought Aldo was kind of expensive? Does that make me cheap? I wasn't prepared for all of these life-questioning scenarios when I read the article. I was just trying to pass time while eating some cereal.

Is it just me, or is wall-to-wall carpeting overrated? The same goes for mailboxes.

Yesterday I was reading a magazine and saw a picture of Gwenyth Paltrow's daughter, Apple. Without hesitation, the first thought to come to my mind was "What a little bitch that girl is going to be."

I mean, seriously, don't you just want to slap Gwenyth sometimes? I do.

Phone Conversation between Molly Fitzgerald and Ryan Sumner

ryansumner: Hey Mollz, what's up...?
Molly: Um, I'm just reading something that my journalist friend in Haiti wrote. It's so bad. I need go back there and help.
ryansumner: Why, what happened?
Molly: Ryan, it's bad. You should have seen this picture with this dad holding his two dead daughters.
ryansumner: How'd they die?
Molly: The U.N. soldiers shot them for no reason.
ryansumner: Molly, you know they must of had it coming or something...
Molly: Ryan, no, they were shot in their sleep.
ryansumner: ...Maybe they were snoring...
Molly: That's not even funny. *click*

Sorry for offending you, Molly. Let's be friends again.

Name:	Ryan - Although I have many other "names" as well. My family all lovingly refer to me as "Ry" and in my youth I was known as RyGuy.
State, region, territory, etc.:	Born and raised in the countryside of Illinois, went to school and lived in Galva from age 11 on. Moved to Iowa City after graduating college in 2004 and here I am...still
Hair color:	Dark brown, although many people refer to my hair as being black. It's not black and yes, there is a difference.
Eye color:	Brown and yes, you could stare into them forever.
Shoe size:	9.5 and I'm very happy about that.
Height:	5'10. I wish I was taller, but at times I don't because I have a theory that taller people become hunchbacks as they age.
Can you...?
sing well:	This is debatable. I mean, I think I sound great. I don't have enough confidence in myself to go on American Idol or anything, but I've never had any complaints from Buster. Just don't hand me a microphone.
dance to a ballet:	No, and I assume most people don't. Maybe I'm an ass for thinking that.
play piano:	Ugh, no, and honestly it's one thing I wish I did as a child so that I would have SOME type of knowledge about reading and playing music.
sit through a four hour movie without getting crabby:	I saw Titanic at the movie theatre twice and I think that movie was about 3 hours if not 4. Don't ask me why I saw it twice, either. Sometimes we do stupid things in our youth.
put mascara on without opening your mouth:	Ok, one time Molly put eyeliner and mascara on me after getting crunked off boxed wine. Yeah, I know, we're classy individuals. Luckily we never made it out that night and I woke up with a lot of questions I wanted to ask myself.
two-step:	My Mom and I used to line dance in the kitchen all the time. We even had the instructional videos. We really know how to party.
write in cursive really well:	I have amazing handwriting for a guy. Actually, I think that my handwriting is counterpart to my amazing personality.
sleep all day long if given the chance:	Being the corporate grunt that I am, I get up at 6:45 am every morning M-F and find it hard to sleep past 9 or 10 on weekends. But I would take anyone up on a challenge to see exactly how long I could sleep.
Do you know how to...?
use/read tarot cards:	Nope and Nope. I don't understand the concept of Tarot cards. I'd rather call Cleo or Dionne Warwick.
cook a whole turkey:	Hm, yes. I'm a master of all that involves cooking.
serve the ball overhand in volleyball:	I haven't played volleyball in many moons, but I like to think that I could do this. It probably wouldn't land in bound, assuming it even cleared the net.
draw a lion:	Is this a Napolean Dynamite reference? I'm okay with it if it is because I laugh at that stupid movie very easily. I don't know what that says about me. But do know that I'm a bad drawer.
put together a computer:	Anyone that knows me knows that I'm the worst technological person EVER. I can easily do stuff on computers, but as far as hooking things up and connecting cables, eep. But can any lay man really put together a computer? I'm probably not alone.
First thing that comes to mind when you see the word...
mint:	Chocolate Chip. Which I'm not crazy about, but put a bowl of it in front of me and see you later.
doctor:	So many things for sooooo many reasons. Mostly good reasons but that depends on how we define the meaning of "good."
vixen:	Jessica Rabbit? Watching Roger Rabbit when I was younger always gave me weird feelings. I get the same feeling when I watch Beetlejuice.
rain:	Shampoo, and I can't really describe or interpret the reason why.
heart:	Captain Planet. The Heart power was the worst one, and I don't even really remember what it's purpose was, but the kid had a monkey, so enough said.
thunder:	I wrote a poem about thunder, and people received it well.
mall:	Rant: Malls suck. Working in malls suck, too. A&F sucks the worst, their clothes suck and so do the people that work there/think that it's cool they work there. It's not. Nobody respects anyone that wears A&F clothing.
reef:	Sandals. Moving on...
sponge:	Sponge Bob, although I've never seen the cartoon and I know nothing about Sponge Bob other than people are crazy about it for unknown reasons.
plantation:	Slaves.
red:	I'm not a fan of red. At all. You will rarely catch me wearing it or loving it.
cage:	Birds. I hate birds. You will rarely catch me loving them either.
groovy:	I hate 70's shit. Except for a few good songs. That's about it.
Favorite...
color:	Blue, Brown, Black, Gray, Teal, and Creme.
song:	Right now I'm loving Goldfrapp's "Black Cherry." It's a great song to make out to if you're lucky enough to be making out with a person/whatever.
band:	Electric President. Their existance is rather unknown but I'm crazy about them regardless.
movie:	Under the Tuscan Sun. Not a headliner, I know, but it embodies a lot about the things I want in life.
tv show:	I'm not a huge TV-watching person, but there are a lot of shows I would watch. Grey's Anatomy is sooo overly-popular and since recently, I've discovered why.
reality show:	Big Brother - guilty pleasure.
book:	I've never found joy in reading except for when I read Indian in the Cupboard. I couln't even tell you the number of times I read this book.
word to use:	Like. It's quite possibly the easiest word to slip out a few thousand times without even noticing it.
Have you ever seen the movie...?
Reservoir Dogs:	Nope
Pulp Fiction:	Nope
Hostel:	Nope
House of Wax (original):	Nope
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Pt. II:	Nope
The Evil Dead:	Nope
Army of Darkness:	Nope
The Hills Have Eyes (original):	Nope
Bride of Frankenstein:	Nope
Young Frankenstein:	Nope
The Haunting (original):	Nope
Little Nicky:	Nope
The Craft:	YES and it's a great movie.
Labyrinth:	Nope.
First...
concert you went to:	Janet Jackson - Velvet Rope Tour. I couldn't get anyone to buy an expensive ticket like I did so I went by MYSELF and my parents drove me and picked me up. I was really cool.
thought when waking up on a weekday:	I wonder if I look cute and thin today?
thing you do when you wake up on the weekend:	I don't get to "wake up" on weekdays. I'm woken up by two alarms. Waking up is a gift, which only occurs on weekends.
thing you do when you come back home from work/school:	Eat. I eat every hour on the hour if not every half hour, so I guess it's not that special or dependant upon any action or time.
Have you ever heard the song...?
"Supervixen" by Garbage:	No
"Stuck In The Middle With You" by Stealers Wheel:	Yes
"Nemo" by Nightwish:	No
"Heaven's A Lie" by Lacuna Coil:	No
"Say Cheese And Die" by Dr. Acula:	No
"What's Under My Bed" by the HorrorPops:	No
"Good Man In A Bad Time" by Ian Hunter:	No
"Funeral of Hearts" by HIM:	No
"Dance D'Amour" by the 69 Eyes:	No
"Whiplash" by Metallica:	No
"Louder Than Hell" by Motley Crue:	No
"Eat The Rich" by Motorhead:	No
"Secrets" by Hammerfall:	No
"Teenage Frankenstein" by Alice Cooper:	No
"Die Romance" by Aiden:	No
"Crosses" by ASG:	No
"Attached At The Hip" by CKY:	No
"Resurrection" by Calabrese:	No
"Lupen Tooth" by Blitzkid:	No, I've probably heard a lot of these songs, but yeah, probably couldn't name that tune or who sang it.
This or That
this or that:	I usually always want that.
gold or silver:	Silver. I would pawn anything Gold.
mechanical pencil or regular pencil:	Mechanical. Although I couldn't even tell you the last time I used a pencil of either sort.
classic heavy metal or nu-metal:	Classic. I don't know what nu-metal really is, so classic wins.
motorcycle or mustang:	Motorcycles are hot.
lava lamp or black light:	Neither. I don't want either. Lava lamps are rather dumb and black lights remind me of bowling or Studio, both are equally non-appealing.
spades or diamonds:	Diamonds. I always have a moment of confusion when it comes to what a spade is/looks like.
uggs or converse:	Hm, neither. Both are equally unattractive.
sweet or sour:	Sweet, but I like Sour Patch Kids.
milk or dark chocolate:	Milk chocolate. I like chocolate, sort of, but I'm not crazy enough about it to be eating dark chocolate. Dark is an acquired taste. Dark chocolate is for fat women to eat.
exercise and eat right or starve youself:	Starving is soooooooooooo much easier and less expensive.
friday or saturday:	Saturday requires less of me, so Saturday it is.
green or red apples:	If they those two apples mated and produced offspring, I'd eat their babies.
horror movies or romantic comedies:	I like both but would rather see myself falling in love rather than being killed by one of my stuffed animals.
cartoons or reality tv:	Reality TV. Although Disney always holds a place in my heart.
reading or watching tv:	Both put me to sleep but watching TV is so much easier, and if you didn't see a trend, I'm a fan of all that is easy.
hamburger helper or hamburger steaks:	I don't know what a hamburger steak is and I feel like I don't want to. But you'll never catch me eating Hamburger Helper. I really don't even know what it is, but I know enough to not be eating it.
Are you a(n)...
air guitarist:	No. Never. And it makes me uncomfortable when people are.
myspace addict:	I wouldn't say addict but I check it daily, yes.
vampirefreaks addict:	I don't know what that is and I think I'm better-off not knowing.
bzoink addict:	No, and I don't like the spelling of this onomatopoeia.
shop-a-holic:	Yeah I could easily shop for days on end. I like to spend money.
photograph-a-holic:	No, and I don't really like lots of picture taking in a small amount of time.
doll collector:	I hate dolls and everything they stand for.
collector of anything:	Accent pillows.
Crue head:	?
candle freak:	No, but one or two is nice.
Do you like...?
Doo-wop music:	I don't think that's a real category.
green eggs and ham:	Don't even, don't even, don't even...(karate kick)
school:	Sooooo glad to be done with school and all school-related activities, besides binge drinking.
learning about history:	I think history is make-believe.
decorating the house for christmas:	Sure.
taking surveys:	No, especially when the questions aren't hard hitting, like these last few ones.
talking on the phone:	No and I NEVER will.
Finish the Sentence..........
I went to the grocery store and bought...:	I can't go to the store without buying a box of Oh's cereal. I have three boxes in my kitchen as we speak.
I can't see the...:	Subtitles for any movie. When will cinematographers learn that small print in a weird font is impossible for us viewers who purposely don't wear glasses or contacts and are legally blind? Cater to my laziness, please.
Me llamo...:	Raul.
The last concert I went to was...:	American Idol Live! Yeah, it was something I just needed to see and be a part of. Check your insecurities at the door.
I haven't seen my best friend since...:	I haven't seen my Galva best friend, Molly, in a while. Haven't seen my IC best friends since this last weekend, haven't seen my college best friends, Kimi and Tara, for years
I have a huge fasination with...:	spelling and grammar. Fascination is spelled wrong. Bad spelling really annoys me.
My passion is...:	Traveling. I love airports, I love packing, I love waking up in new places. I need to leave the country asap.
I can't live without my...:	ID and debit card. I never carry cash so without it, I'm screwed.
Okay, Last Question.
What is your main goal for the new year?:	To be in the best shape of my life, mentally and physically. And to be crazy-rich.
FIN

I'm going on hiatus from blogging for a bit, but I'll be back sometime. Until then, keep it real.

Things that I am Already Over in 2007

• I'm over the Chicago Bears and/or their "fans." Specifically, girls. I have never, ever heard of so much Bears-related commotion as I have in the last few weeks. People who have no knowledge of football, the NFL, or simply the Bears have sprung up everywhere and weirdly are all doing the Superbowl Shuffle, loving orange and blue everything, wearing jerseys with last names they have never heard of/can barely pronounce, and are also updating their Facebook status to reflect that they're doing something Bears-related and LOVING it. Uh, really? Because yesterday, you didn't even know that the Bears were anywhere near Superbowl status, but because you're from "Chicago" aka Naperville, now all of a sudden you can't get enough of the Bears, and are just THRILLED that they are in the Superbowl? Shuffle all you want, poser, but I still think you suck. Hey bandwagon.
• I'm over sideways peace signs and pouty-lipped pictures. Um, I know we live in the age of Facebook photo albums and MySpace insanity, but really...how many times can you take a picture of yourself and/or your friends doing that stupid peace sign and making that stupid face? You don't look sexy, you don't look gangster, but you do look stupid. Stop it. I'd even be happy with the end of pouty lip pictures. It's way overkill, people. Preposing pictures is not original. Take a picture of your friend grinding drunk on the dancefloor with some dumbfuck Frat ass at The Summitt, instead. I think those pictures are much more realistic and entertaining.
• I'm over vandalism. More specifically, vandalism by drunk college idiots. Guys especially. Everytime I walk around Iowa City, signs are broken, construction sites have cones everywhere, branches are broken from trees, glass is pretty much underneath every footstep, and vomit is so nicely splattered across every street, sidewalk, and pretty much every possible surface imagineable, including the hallway in my apartment building. Sometimes I get the viewing pleasure of witnessing some jackass karate-kick a parking meter, repeatedly. As if there's a score to settle. Seriously, after the bars, just go home. Directly. Avoid eye contact with any and all meters. I agree, they have it coming sometimes, but just let it go. Save the destruction for your own personal property, such as throwing your computer out of your window. When I see the destruction of such property, I feel much better about life. I feel happy knowing that you're going to wake up in the morning (hopefully) and consequently see the aftermath of your night-out, as well as see what a complete and utter jackass you are. Maybe you'll learn something, who knows? It's a crazy world.
• I'm over being in this mood. Better days lie ahead.

From: Lucker, Richard
Sent: Friday, January 12, 2007 12:55 PM
To: All--PEM;IOWA State Assessments Staff
Subject: hey ppl everyone

I know this isn’t for work but I’m lookin for a Med.-XL size puppy or dog. My last one ran away when I went to Indiana for vacation and left him with my best friend. Must be good with kids. I am willing to pay for it. Thank you for your time.
Richard Lucker


From: Sumner, Ryan
Sent: Friday, January 12, 2007 2:11 PM
To: Lucker, Richard
Subject: RE: hey ppl everyone

Dear Richard:

Dogs do not like you. When your last dog ran away, it wasn’t just a silly prank. He hated you. He hated you, he hated the Hoosiers, and he hated your best friend. Seriously, who’s your best friend? Cruella De Vil? And what do you have against small dogs? I bet your last dog was a Chihuahua and the only reason he ran away was because he just wasn’t BIG enough for you, was he? No matter what that poor dog did, nothing was ever good enough because he didn’t measure out to be size “Med.-XL.” Dog’s aren’t Tshirts, Richard. You don’t special order dogs by size. Do you think that by getting a bigger dog that it’s going to cover up the smaller issues in your life? Get real. Buy a Hummer. Dogs come in all shapes and sizes and your last dog wouldn’t have hit the streets so suddenly if you weren’t such an ignorant buffoon.

And do you think Darice Keating is going to appreciate finding an email in her inbox with the subject of “hey ppl everyone” ?? Next time, put the extra 5 seconds into spelling out the word people. P-E-O-P-L-E. I know vowels are a total waste of space, but at certain times, like when you send an email to the ENTIRE company, vowels come in handy.

Also, good with kids? Um, you have kids? Honestly…should you be reproducing? What if one of your kids was a midget? Would you just drop them off at your best friends, too until, WHOOPS, he jumped out the window in the middle of the night and took off on a one-way trip to GuadalaMexiRico in hopes of finding a new family that will accept him for who he is.

And I’m real glad you’re “willing” to pay for this Med-XL dog idea of yours. What, as if someone’s going to be like, “Here, Richard, take my dog. FREE. On the house! Here, have my wife, too. She’s yours!"

You are a real piece of work, Richard Lucker.

Sincerely,

Ryan Sumner

I really think that laughter is the best medicine. While Vicodin sometimes makes my world a better place, I'd rather have my stomach hurt from laughing than be in a comatose state-of-being for 7 hours. Living in Iowa City, you'd think that my priorities were out of order, but just go with me on this.

There are other times I feel void of all emotion. I couldn't even tell you the last time I cried. I've had a lot of people die or fall ill, even then, it's like I have to imagine the time Uncle Jesse almost moved out of the Tanner household and Michelle gurggled out "I'll miss you Uncle Jesse." Sometimes that scenario helps my eyes produce a glossy sheen and if I blink 80,000 times in a row at the speed of light, eventually a tear might fall out? That's pretty much my preparation for fake crying. It's a struggle. If only I were Sally Struthers and surrounded by orphans--then, and only then, would my emotions come more easy.

The weird thing is, I used to be SUCH a crybaby. Oh, we're not going to Pizza Hut even though I earned a free personal pan pizza from my Book It award? Fine Mom, I'm never speaking to you again! Wah! Cue instantaneous sobbing rage. Oh, the ant just died on 'Honey, I Shrunk the Kids'? Cue emotional meltdown.

But, cut to 5 years ago when my best friend died in a car accident-I'm like Stone Cold Steve Austin, minus the muscle and goatee. Actually, minus the goatee--I've been working out. Anyway, I'm still unable to produce a tear or even a slight shake in my voice. What's WRONG with me?

Don't answer that.

Now laughing...I'm more than capable of this. I'm one of those annoying people who find it best to laugh after throwing my head back, opening the airways, and belting out a loud, shout-like laugh that is nothing short of pure obnoxiousness. I find humor in so many things, that I can't help but to show my appreciation. But before you jump to conclusions, there are, of course, those few individuals who I find NO humor in, even if they're typically regarded as being funny. One such instance is this bitchy girl at work who I refer to as "the Queen Bee" which ironically has nothing to do with work. You know when there's a group of friends that hang out a lot together, but there's always that one individual that kind of runs the show? She's it. Anyway, so this girl is flipping through this catalog like there's no tomorrow, and all of a sudden she goes, "Oh.My.God. Butter pecan ice cream is the shit-nizzle" ...which was said in this "ch'yah, like totally" valley accent.

Really? Is it that good and did you really need to put nizzle at the end of shit? Get out of my face. And honestly, take off that scarf. You're indoors. I think your neck will survive, and will probably thank you later. And also, I know you're proud of your recent g-string purchase at Lane Bryant, being that everytime you sit down you expose the entire world to it's thin-wedgie glory. However, maybe you should take that g-string out of your ass and use it to floss your snaggled teeth with.

The other emotion I deal with frequently is hostility.

Hey new year.

I'd typically take this opportunity to fill in an entire entry of allll 8, 485, 937 resolutions I'd like to make this year, but today it hit me...resolutions are useless. I'm not going to change something about my life just because a 6 became a 7. Resolutions have to have more meaning than that. You have to WANT to change. I don't know if I want to change anything. Sure, I'd like to eat less pasta this year. Carbs, you know. Who cares though?

What's more important is that I had a new revelation today, be it the new year, or be it a quiet, lackluster day. But I still thought of something. I thought about how I would like to change myself by simple observation of people close to me.

There are things I see in friends and family that I'd like to inherit this year. Compassion, confidence, commitment...I know the C's are redundant, but it's completely coincidental. Oops!...I did it again.

There are also things I want to observe, and have already observed, that reflect characteristics and attributes that I don't want to see in myself, or be caught possessing. Rudeness, arrogance, selfishness, laziness, greed. I've seen this in people, and while it's not something that would make me sever a friendship or relationship over, it simply reminds me that I don't want to embody that attribute and have it be seen as my own.

I'll have to finish this thought later -- my elbows hurt. Actually, this horse is dead. Let's make glue.