1. There is no photoshop involved here.
2. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY FREAKING MOUTH!!!!!! (I'm at the very right)
(scroll down... if you dare)
December 14, 2005
This can't be.
The picture that is posted below is probably the stangest picture that there is of me... ever. I doubt there will ever be one more strange (and slightly disturbing) than this one. Keep in mind these two things before you scroll down...
1. There is no photoshop involved here.
2. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY FREAKING MOUTH!!!!!! (I'm at the very right)
(scroll down... if you dare)
1. There is no photoshop involved here.
2. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY FREAKING MOUTH!!!!!! (I'm at the very right)
(scroll down... if you dare)
November 22, 2005
Extra! Extra!
VERY SAD NEWS
There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington, DC this year !
The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in Washington, DC this Christmas season. This isn't for any religious reason, they simply have not been able to find three wise men and a virgin in the Nation's capitol. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington, DC this year !
The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in Washington, DC this Christmas season. This isn't for any religious reason, they simply have not been able to find three wise men and a virgin in the Nation's capitol. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
November 13, 2005
November 11, 2005
October 27, 2005
Next Stop: IMAGINATION!
Imagine yourself sitting in a dark expanse. You can't see anything, but you don't feel blind... you don't feel suffocated in darkness. It feels, in fact, quite airy, and you know that the deep black shroud that sits over you is vast - indescribably so.
You sit on nothing, and it's quite comfortable. You can't feel a chair, bench or other support holding you up, but you are relaxing and expectant - like you are ready for something to begin. Something does. Far off to your right, you spot an almost too-tiny-to-see speck. This speck is red; a glowing pin prick in the vastness. As you watch it, you begin to tingle, almost as if you feel the warmth from the dot seeping into you. You wait, a slight smile appears on your face as if you know what's coming next - even though you don't.
Far off in the deepness another pin prick appears. It is vividly clear, as the first, but this one is a vibrant blue. It's a shade of blue you've never seem before, one so bright and clear that you feel as if you are looking straight into a blue diamond. Even though the spots are miniscule, you see them with perfect vision; your eyes are clear without needing to strain in the least. Then, as you observe, you notice the two specks begin to shimmer, just like you've seen the stars do in the cool night sky. It looks as though some sort of warm vapor is passing in front of them, letting them dance in the deepness.
Then you begin to move. Slowly at first, but then quite swiftly as the wind begins to ruffle your hair. Suddenly you are flying; moving so fast that time seems to slow down. You look around in the vast expanse and wonder how fast you are moving... probably too fast to measure. You look ahead at the two pin pricks of color and notice they are larger. Yes, you are moving toward them. You push away a wave of concern and lean back, closing your eyes and enjoying a new smell that has been delivered by the rushing winds. Sweetness... cool, clean, sweetness. It's the only way you can describe it to yourself.
Rushing upon the blue speck, you realize that the sparkling pin prick is now much larger than you expected, and radiantly colorful. Although it's main hue is clear acrylic blue, every other color in the rainbow (and other colors you could have never imagined) sparkle throughout the giant sphere. Almost too bright to look at, you stare in perplexed awe at such beauty. Never before have you seen something so valuable (you tell yourself it must be valuable) and been so close.
As you grow closer and closer to the magnificent, dazzling jewel, you realize how quickly you are coming toward it. Suddenly, before you can inhale a breath, you have rushed upon it, and gone into it. A bright shatter of light steals your sight for just a moment, but quickly reveals that your are standing inside the great sparkling sphere, peering around in questioning awe, bewildered and amazed at where you are and what you are seeing.
Never before have your eyes seen so many blinding colors. Flashing and dancing, they perform a beautiful dance, weaving around you, above you, below you; spinning a complex web of brilliance, they seem to never grow tired of this indescribeable display.
You realize now that you are standing. Not knowing what you are standing on (if anything) you look down to see swirls of color looking up at you. Turning to look to your left, you strain to see beyond the dazzling light show into the vast deepness. There, about a hundred yards away or so, you see the other orb: red, glowing, spinning, flickering in the night sky. Taking a step toward the side of the star-like jewel you are in, the colors fade and move out of your way. Your hand reaches out and you are suddenly floating through space.
You sit on nothing, and it's quite comfortable. You can't feel a chair, bench or other support holding you up, but you are relaxing and expectant - like you are ready for something to begin. Something does. Far off to your right, you spot an almost too-tiny-to-see speck. This speck is red; a glowing pin prick in the vastness. As you watch it, you begin to tingle, almost as if you feel the warmth from the dot seeping into you. You wait, a slight smile appears on your face as if you know what's coming next - even though you don't.
Far off in the deepness another pin prick appears. It is vividly clear, as the first, but this one is a vibrant blue. It's a shade of blue you've never seem before, one so bright and clear that you feel as if you are looking straight into a blue diamond. Even though the spots are miniscule, you see them with perfect vision; your eyes are clear without needing to strain in the least. Then, as you observe, you notice the two specks begin to shimmer, just like you've seen the stars do in the cool night sky. It looks as though some sort of warm vapor is passing in front of them, letting them dance in the deepness.
Then you begin to move. Slowly at first, but then quite swiftly as the wind begins to ruffle your hair. Suddenly you are flying; moving so fast that time seems to slow down. You look around in the vast expanse and wonder how fast you are moving... probably too fast to measure. You look ahead at the two pin pricks of color and notice they are larger. Yes, you are moving toward them. You push away a wave of concern and lean back, closing your eyes and enjoying a new smell that has been delivered by the rushing winds. Sweetness... cool, clean, sweetness. It's the only way you can describe it to yourself.
Rushing upon the blue speck, you realize that the sparkling pin prick is now much larger than you expected, and radiantly colorful. Although it's main hue is clear acrylic blue, every other color in the rainbow (and other colors you could have never imagined) sparkle throughout the giant sphere. Almost too bright to look at, you stare in perplexed awe at such beauty. Never before have you seen something so valuable (you tell yourself it must be valuable) and been so close.
As you grow closer and closer to the magnificent, dazzling jewel, you realize how quickly you are coming toward it. Suddenly, before you can inhale a breath, you have rushed upon it, and gone into it. A bright shatter of light steals your sight for just a moment, but quickly reveals that your are standing inside the great sparkling sphere, peering around in questioning awe, bewildered and amazed at where you are and what you are seeing.
Never before have your eyes seen so many blinding colors. Flashing and dancing, they perform a beautiful dance, weaving around you, above you, below you; spinning a complex web of brilliance, they seem to never grow tired of this indescribeable display.
You realize now that you are standing. Not knowing what you are standing on (if anything) you look down to see swirls of color looking up at you. Turning to look to your left, you strain to see beyond the dazzling light show into the vast deepness. There, about a hundred yards away or so, you see the other orb: red, glowing, spinning, flickering in the night sky. Taking a step toward the side of the star-like jewel you are in, the colors fade and move out of your way. Your hand reaches out and you are suddenly floating through space.
October 18, 2005
Re-Post from Ferret
I was looking over random Blogs just now and happened upon this one. I thought I'd post an article that I found extremely intriguing and comical. Enjoy.
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Thursday, October 13, 2005
Discovery Channel and Cookie Cutters
Sometimes, I wonder how man is made. I mean, I understand how the first man was made – God took a clump of dirt and turned him into Adam. How bad*** is THAT! The Lord straight up picked up dirt from the ground and breathed life into a fully-functional, breathing homeboy. That’s stuff you can’t even see on the Discovery Channel. (On a side note: God is obviously THE Amazing One, but the Discovery Channel is probably the second most amazing thing in this world. Last week, I saw a high-definition documentary of killer ants running around in a remote Amazon forest attacking and devouring full-grown deer. How do the people who make the show know where these antihills exactly are? Do they have a dedicated ant-man photographer whose life is dedicated to finding the biggest killer ant underground colony? And evidently, these killer ants have been known to kill people – so isn’t it a good idea to stay away or at least be armed with a keg-sized barrel of extra-strength Raid? They need to have a Discovery Channel documentary on the Discovery Channel itself. Seriously.)
But back to God – I kind of wonder how he decides what each face is going to look like. I mean, for sure, 99 out of a 100 times, the face is going to have two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth. But how does he decide specifically what each face is going to look like? Can’t you imagine him on something like a heavenly computer, drawing up each face on Photoshop in His infinite wisdom? Or if He’s less technologically inclined, just molding each face out of clay au naturel with His loving hands?
I mention this, because it's evident that I have the most common Asian face in the world. I’m not particularly bothered by it – God made the face so I can’t really complain I guess, even though I wouldn’t mind if it bore more resemblance to Denzel Washington or someone like that. But I almost feel like my face was made out of the Typical Asian Heavenly Cookie Cutter Pan. Squinty, bespectacled eyes, no-bridge nose, indistinct mouth, slightly dumbo-ish ears… if I were a runaway criminal, I’d seriously never get caught. Can you imagine the police report?! “Please look out for a 5’9 Asian man with short spiky hair and glasses. ARMED AND DANGEROUS!” HAHAHA
Everyone knows somebody else who looks just like me. I always hear, “Omigosh, you sooo look like my cousin,” or “You totally remind me of this friend I have back at home.” If people were cars, I’d be a silver Honda Accord – every person knows an Asian who drives one. All this is all fine by me – I have enough self-evaluation skills to know that I’m not a particularly special or good-looking person. But my cookie-cutter face leads to some awkward situations.
For example, I went to a Chinese restaurant yesterday to take some food home and play some NCAA Football 2006. When I went to the register to pay, the Korean woman asked me how my grandfather was doing. That was odd because neither of my grandfathers had ever stepped foot in her restaurant before. I told her that she must be mistaking me for someone else.
But this lady wouldn’t believe me! “No no no, your grandfather comes here all the time. He’s very good customer!” It was a long day at work, my stomach was growling and my Heisman season was waiting for me at home - not surprisingly, I lost my patience. “Ajumah, one of my grandfathers passed away when my dad was eleven. The other grandfather passed away ten years ago and never stepped foot in America. I might look like someone, but its not me!” (I think my eyes got all misty too because I envy other people who had their grandparents around growing up... but that's a whole nother story)
The woman looked extremely shocked and stared blankly at me. Then she cleared her throat and murmured, “Oh no… he passed away. Your sisters must be really sad – and he was such a good customer…” HAHAHAHAHAHA... unfreakingbelievable...
Maybe one day, all the people who look like me can get together and have an Asian Cookie-Cutter Face conference. We can get to know each other by playing goofy ice-breaker games, take pictures in various clone-like poses and have seminars on how to effectively deal with people who mistake you for someone else… I’m sure it’d be a blast.
But let’s get one thing straight - I don’t look like them... THEY look like ME!
President of ACCFA (Asian Cookie-Cutter Face Association)Chris 'JAYHOON! JAYHOON! *fists pumping in air*' Jung
posted by ferret at 9:31 PM 0 comments
_____________ _____________ _____________
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Discovery Channel and Cookie Cutters
Sometimes, I wonder how man is made. I mean, I understand how the first man was made – God took a clump of dirt and turned him into Adam. How bad*** is THAT! The Lord straight up picked up dirt from the ground and breathed life into a fully-functional, breathing homeboy. That’s stuff you can’t even see on the Discovery Channel. (On a side note: God is obviously THE Amazing One, but the Discovery Channel is probably the second most amazing thing in this world. Last week, I saw a high-definition documentary of killer ants running around in a remote Amazon forest attacking and devouring full-grown deer. How do the people who make the show know where these antihills exactly are? Do they have a dedicated ant-man photographer whose life is dedicated to finding the biggest killer ant underground colony? And evidently, these killer ants have been known to kill people – so isn’t it a good idea to stay away or at least be armed with a keg-sized barrel of extra-strength Raid? They need to have a Discovery Channel documentary on the Discovery Channel itself. Seriously.)
But back to God – I kind of wonder how he decides what each face is going to look like. I mean, for sure, 99 out of a 100 times, the face is going to have two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth. But how does he decide specifically what each face is going to look like? Can’t you imagine him on something like a heavenly computer, drawing up each face on Photoshop in His infinite wisdom? Or if He’s less technologically inclined, just molding each face out of clay au naturel with His loving hands?
I mention this, because it's evident that I have the most common Asian face in the world. I’m not particularly bothered by it – God made the face so I can’t really complain I guess, even though I wouldn’t mind if it bore more resemblance to Denzel Washington or someone like that. But I almost feel like my face was made out of the Typical Asian Heavenly Cookie Cutter Pan. Squinty, bespectacled eyes, no-bridge nose, indistinct mouth, slightly dumbo-ish ears… if I were a runaway criminal, I’d seriously never get caught. Can you imagine the police report?! “Please look out for a 5’9 Asian man with short spiky hair and glasses. ARMED AND DANGEROUS!” HAHAHA
Everyone knows somebody else who looks just like me. I always hear, “Omigosh, you sooo look like my cousin,” or “You totally remind me of this friend I have back at home.” If people were cars, I’d be a silver Honda Accord – every person knows an Asian who drives one. All this is all fine by me – I have enough self-evaluation skills to know that I’m not a particularly special or good-looking person. But my cookie-cutter face leads to some awkward situations.
For example, I went to a Chinese restaurant yesterday to take some food home and play some NCAA Football 2006. When I went to the register to pay, the Korean woman asked me how my grandfather was doing. That was odd because neither of my grandfathers had ever stepped foot in her restaurant before. I told her that she must be mistaking me for someone else.
But this lady wouldn’t believe me! “No no no, your grandfather comes here all the time. He’s very good customer!” It was a long day at work, my stomach was growling and my Heisman season was waiting for me at home - not surprisingly, I lost my patience. “Ajumah, one of my grandfathers passed away when my dad was eleven. The other grandfather passed away ten years ago and never stepped foot in America. I might look like someone, but its not me!” (I think my eyes got all misty too because I envy other people who had their grandparents around growing up... but that's a whole nother story)
The woman looked extremely shocked and stared blankly at me. Then she cleared her throat and murmured, “Oh no… he passed away. Your sisters must be really sad – and he was such a good customer…” HAHAHAHAHAHA... unfreakingbelievable...
Maybe one day, all the people who look like me can get together and have an Asian Cookie-Cutter Face conference. We can get to know each other by playing goofy ice-breaker games, take pictures in various clone-like poses and have seminars on how to effectively deal with people who mistake you for someone else… I’m sure it’d be a blast.
But let’s get one thing straight - I don’t look like them... THEY look like ME!
President of ACCFA (Asian Cookie-Cutter Face Association)Chris 'JAYHOON! JAYHOON! *fists pumping in air*' Jung
posted by ferret at 9:31 PM 0 comments
October 11, 2005
CA
Yes, I'm in California. And like an idiot, I forgot my camera to show you all where I am staying. Oh well. Talk to you all soon.
September 27, 2005
September 15, 2005
NEWS FLASH FROM CNN! "THE REAL USE FOR CATS!"
CLICK THE LINK ABOVE OR READ BELOW! (from cnn.com)
'Christian Koch, an inventor and patent holder of the "KDV 500" that he said produces high quality fuel, said he can transform waste products such as paper, rubbish and plastic materials into fuel.
But Koch, 55, said there was no truth to stories published in Bild newspaper on Tuesday and Wednesday that suggested he used dead cats as part of the mix for his organic diesel fuel.
"I use paper, plastics, textiles and rubbish," Koch told Reuters.
"It's an alternative fuel that is friendly for the environment. But it's complete nonsense to suggest dead cats. I've never used cats and would never think of that. At most the odd toad may have jumped in."
Bild on Tuesday wrote a headline: "German inventor can turn cats into fuel -- for a tank he needs 20 cats." The paper on Wednesday followed up with a story entitled: "Can you really make fuel out of cats?"
A spokesman for Bild told Reuters the story was meant to show that cat remains could "in theory" be used to make fuel with Koch's patented method.
The author of the story said Koch had never told him directly that he had used dead cats as the story implied.
The Web site of Koch's firm, "Alphakat GmbH", says his patented "KDV 500" machine can produce what he calls the "bio-diesel" fuel at about 23 euro cents (30 cents) a liter, which is about one-fifth the price at petrol stations now.
"I drive my normal diesel-powered car with this mixture," Koch is quoted saying in Bild, next to a large picture of a kitten. "I have gone 170,000 km (106,000 miles) without a problem." '
'Christian Koch, an inventor and patent holder of the "KDV 500" that he said produces high quality fuel, said he can transform waste products such as paper, rubbish and plastic materials into fuel.
But Koch, 55, said there was no truth to stories published in Bild newspaper on Tuesday and Wednesday that suggested he used dead cats as part of the mix for his organic diesel fuel.
"I use paper, plastics, textiles and rubbish," Koch told Reuters.
"It's an alternative fuel that is friendly for the environment. But it's complete nonsense to suggest dead cats. I've never used cats and would never think of that. At most the odd toad may have jumped in."
Bild on Tuesday wrote a headline: "German inventor can turn cats into fuel -- for a tank he needs 20 cats." The paper on Wednesday followed up with a story entitled: "Can you really make fuel out of cats?"
A spokesman for Bild told Reuters the story was meant to show that cat remains could "in theory" be used to make fuel with Koch's patented method.
The author of the story said Koch had never told him directly that he had used dead cats as the story implied.
The Web site of Koch's firm, "Alphakat GmbH", says his patented "KDV 500" machine can produce what he calls the "bio-diesel" fuel at about 23 euro cents (30 cents) a liter, which is about one-fifth the price at petrol stations now.
"I drive my normal diesel-powered car with this mixture," Koch is quoted saying in Bild, next to a large picture of a kitten. "I have gone 170,000 km (106,000 miles) without a problem." '
September 12, 2005
Just a Moment!
...I'm coming back soon!
My next blog is going to be a dang good one, so you folks who are biting your fingernails (or cuticles, (sp?) BITE HARDER! I'm going to take you on an exciting journey through my latest short story, Adventures in Housesitting. I won't give the best parts away, but it does involve a very devious cat named Acrobat... (very devious, indeed.)
My next blog is going to be a dang good one, so you folks who are biting your fingernails (or cuticles, (sp?) BITE HARDER! I'm going to take you on an exciting journey through my latest short story, Adventures in Housesitting. I won't give the best parts away, but it does involve a very devious cat named Acrobat... (very devious, indeed.)
June 29, 2005
Here's an abstract poem for you: a little of it is taken from a previous poem, the other stuff is new.
"Across a golden canopy of sunset trees above,
Rides through the misty morning rain a Beacon shining Love
"She rides the waves of light among the glowing rays of time,
She reaches ever upward with an effervescent shine.
"With glistening look of wisdom she can see and know things through,
The deep to her is shallow as a river clear with Truth.
"She hovers over hurting pasts and cloudy minds of sadness,
She lifts the loads with burdens light and pours out strength through gladness.
"Although this spirit never lands she’s always never gone,
For those in need that see her deeds are filled with brand new song!"
Jeremy Dahlen 2005
"Across a golden canopy of sunset trees above,
Rides through the misty morning rain a Beacon shining Love
"She rides the waves of light among the glowing rays of time,
She reaches ever upward with an effervescent shine.
"With glistening look of wisdom she can see and know things through,
The deep to her is shallow as a river clear with Truth.
"She hovers over hurting pasts and cloudy minds of sadness,
She lifts the loads with burdens light and pours out strength through gladness.
"Although this spirit never lands she’s always never gone,
For those in need that see her deeds are filled with brand new song!"
Jeremy Dahlen 2005
June 21, 2005
The Worst Night Ever
Good day, folks. For those of you anxiously biting your fingernails while awaiting my next post: (Dave, Mindy, Fuzzy Feline) you may now relax, for it has arrived.
The story you are about to read is completely and totally true. Nothing has been fabricated or exaggerated (and I ain't lyin' none either). I am simply giving the factual tale of The Worst Night Ever.
PART I: BEFORE I BEGIN ...
"I did pretty well, for someone new at this fun yet nerve-pinching job. I drove the cars quickly, parked them quickly, and in all areas tried (for the most part) did my best to be safe."
"If any of you has ever valeted a $100,000.00+ car, you have felt the many emotions that this job brings. The first one that hits you is awe:
You think, 'I get to drive that?! WHOA!'.
The second emotion hits you right after you have seated yourself on the inside of the car... it happens after you look around from your seat on the soft recliner-style supple leather, gazing at gizmos and gadgets and deep, rich, birch trim and flat screen TV's with DVD/MP3 players. This second emotion is pity... pity for yourself.
Now you think,'I'm poor!'
The third emotion punches you in the chest as you press the accelerator... POWER!
You want to scream, 'I am rich and invincible!' You speed along (quickly, yet safely) to your parking spot. Then you get out of the car and that emotion is gone... you realize you are poor and vulnerable to getting hit by other cars in the parking lot."
"Anyway, now you have just a few of the emotions a valet feels. For being such a simple job, there is an overwhelming amount of responsibility. You have to deal with not only the cars, but the people who own the cars."
PART II: AND SO IT BEGAN...
Most of you have probably never been to Nye's Polka Bar downtown. From what I had heard of it, the valet's who worked it would leave with a wad of cash... and by "wad" I mean 150-250 bucks for one night.
The new people were not allowed to work there, but after a couple months I looked at my schedule and realized that one Saturday night I was going to work Nye's. Some of my fellow valets got jealous... I got excited.
I arrived at 4 PM, ready to go. I looked at the parking lot and shuddered. It was TINY. Maybe enough room for 30 cars... and we had to fit at least 50? Great. I pulled on my jacket as I prepared for the night... placing my car keys and other things into the lock box (the large box on wheels that held all of the customers car keys) I removed the key from the lock box (used to lock the lock box) and put it around my neck.
There are two rushes at Nye's. The "late crowd", and the late "gimme-another-drink, time-to-sing-kareoke, I-don't-know-your-name-but-let's-make-out, can-I-have-another-drink, pleeease-can-I-have-another-drink, whoa-look-I'm-dancing-on-a-table" crowd.
The first rush (the dinner and 1-2 drinks people) arrived between 7-9. The lineup of cars was terrifying. The lot was full, and there was 3-7 cars lined up waiting for their cars to be parked. Me and the other valet sprinted around, moving cars, picking up cars, getting keys, parking cars, etc...
The rush died at about 9:30. We cleared some more cars out of the lot, and only parked a few more. Having a couple of minutes of breathing time, I ran over to the pizza place nearby and scarfed down some pizza. I ran back.
At about 11 PM the second rush started. The lineup of cars waiting to be parked was tremendous... there were probably about 15. I ran up to an older Porsche to hand the owner a ticket. He scowled at me from his old blue piece of junk. "Who's parking my car?" he snapped, glaring. I was crabby, tired, and in no mood to argue.
"Either me or the other valet... why? Is there something we need to know about this car?" I stared him down.
After a minute he and his wife got out of the car and went in. We parked it.
Just as things were getting even more out-of-control crazy, something terrible happened. Somehow (I still don't know how to this day) my key, which was placed in a hidden location (the key that unlocked the lock box) was gone. That's right, the lock box was locked - for good. Just then three different parties came out with their tickets. We looked apologetically at them. "It's going to be a minute folks...sorry..."
We called our manager immediately, who arrived in about 15 minutes. I also had to notify the managers inside, and they rushed outside. We tried prying, pulling, smashing, bending; anything to unlock the freakin lock box. Nothing worked. Finally, after the original three parties had been waiting for about 25 minutes and 5 other parties had been waiting about 15 minutes, we opened it. Running full speed everywhere at the same time we tried to pull up as many cars as possible.
"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP..." The stupid car alarm was going off. I tried the door again... nothing. I tried a different door... nothing. I tried the trunk (for those of you who don't know this, opening the trunk of a car with the key will normally turn off the car's alarm system.) and it opened. The alarm went off. I quickly ran to the drivers door and tried the key again... "BEEP BEEP..." AGHH!!! I raced off to find the owner... there he was, embracing his sweetheart. (As you can imagine I was really looking forward to breaking this up...)
"Sir...?"
I explained what was happening. He gave me a dirty look (like his stupid car was my fault) and followed me to the lot.
He couldn't do it either. I almost looked at him and said, "HA!" but I didn't. As I looked back I realized that there was a stack of tickets for cars to be picked up, and the other valet couldn't greet everyone, park everyone AND pick up everyone's cars. (What was wrong with this kid anyway?)
After those two mini-fiasco's, I was about ready to quit. It was after midnight and all I wanted to do was run to my own car and go home. If only I had known what was coming, I may have done just that.
PART III: I WISH I WERE DEAD-ER ...
The couple walked up to me and handed me their ticket. Panting, I quickly found the keys from the un-locked lock box and sprinted off to find there car. I arrived at the parking space and look around. Obviously the other valet had mismarked the ticket. I couldn't read his writing either. I quickly looked at the keys, only to discover that they were un-marked. They looked like generic copied keys. And there more than a dozen. ARRRRGGG!!! I ran to the nearest car, a large (and very expensive) dark blue GMC Denali. Slipping the largest key in the door (the largest key is normally the car key) I turned it. Nothing happened. I looked down at the key in my hand and to my delight found it was GONE... oh yes, I was holding part of the key (the part you turn with your fingers) but the skinny long metal piece (the part that actually starts the car) was gone... that's right, it was in the door to the GMC. I panicked. Pinching the end of the key that was barely sticking out of the door I pulled it out. Good... at least I had both pieces.
Walking back to the couple, I tried to calm myself. The key was old, probably to his house or something. An easily replaceable key.
"Sir?" I walked up to him trying to be cool and collected. "You drive a GMC Yukon Denali, right?
He leaned close and said in a gruff voice, "WHAT?"
I repeated my question with less confidence.
He spoke clearly. "I drive a PORSCHE... what the hell did you do with my Porsche's??"
Oh, crap. This was the Porsche guy! AGH!
He looked down at my hand and saw the key in two pieces. This time his words weren't so gentle. "That's my *&%!*% Porsche key! You broke my &(^%#^%$ Porsche you !^#$(^#(%^(!#%#^&^@@!!" I backed up as he grabbed the pieces out of my hand and stalked off to find his old crappy Porsche.
He didn't have far to go. Reaching the door, he opened it... the car was UNLOCKED! This wasn't my fault either... the other valet had forgotten to lock the car. The man got madder. I could tell he had been drinking - a lot. His wife had been, too... but they both reacted to alcohol in different ways. The man got mean and boisterous and obnoxious. His wife or whoever she was just leaned on the car and stared into space with a pleasant look on her face.
Getting into his car, the man jammed the tiny piece of key into the ignition. Joining our happy group was my manager and a manager from the restaurant... all very disgruntled. The angry Porsche man turned around and grabbed a screwdriver out of the managers hand... after this I just walked away. I started parking more cars, picking up cars, ect., trying to get this night off of my mind.
A couple of minutes later they were gone. He had somehow started the car, and left shouting threats of lawsuits, ect.
(I heard he later called the main office demanding a new ignition system... he didn't get it - he got a new key.)
It was 1:45 AM and the night was FINALLY winding down a little. A large grouped walked out and handed me a ticket. Pulling up their large read SUV, I got out of the running car. The owner walked up to me.
"Hey man... can you drive us to our hotel? It's just down the road." Oh, yippe skippy dippy just what I was dying to do... Chauffeur drunk people to their hotels. Grrrrrrr.... I looked at the other valet. He nodded viciously - favors like this came at high prices, and it may be worth it. I agreed.
Seven drunkies sat in the car with me... all explaining in loud voices where the hotel was and which road to take. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the hotel which should have taken us 30 seconds to get to. Morons. I got out of the car and waited. The guy came around the car, said thanks, and handed me a $15... not bad. I ran back the one block to the restaurant to find with pure joy that it had closed. My night straight from h - e double hocky sticks was over!
We sat in a dark booth at 2:40 AM and pulled out The Wad. We counted.... and re-counted. We each went home with almost $250. Well-deserved, to say the least.
I would never in a million years re-live that night and valet there. I wouldn't do it for $250 or $400 or any amount of money.
I can honestly say it was probably without a doubt The Worst Night Ever.
The story you are about to read is completely and totally true. Nothing has been fabricated or exaggerated (and I ain't lyin' none either). I am simply giving the factual tale of The Worst Night Ever.
PART I: BEFORE I BEGIN ...
"I did pretty well, for someone new at this fun yet nerve-pinching job. I drove the cars quickly, parked them quickly, and in all areas tried (for the most part) did my best to be safe."
"If any of you has ever valeted a $100,000.00+ car, you have felt the many emotions that this job brings. The first one that hits you is awe:
You think, 'I get to drive that?! WHOA!'.
The second emotion hits you right after you have seated yourself on the inside of the car... it happens after you look around from your seat on the soft recliner-style supple leather, gazing at gizmos and gadgets and deep, rich, birch trim and flat screen TV's with DVD/MP3 players. This second emotion is pity... pity for yourself.
Now you think,'I'm poor!'
The third emotion punches you in the chest as you press the accelerator... POWER!
You want to scream, 'I am rich and invincible!' You speed along (quickly, yet safely) to your parking spot. Then you get out of the car and that emotion is gone... you realize you are poor and vulnerable to getting hit by other cars in the parking lot."
"Anyway, now you have just a few of the emotions a valet feels. For being such a simple job, there is an overwhelming amount of responsibility. You have to deal with not only the cars, but the people who own the cars."
PART II: AND SO IT BEGAN...
Most of you have probably never been to Nye's Polka Bar downtown. From what I had heard of it, the valet's who worked it would leave with a wad of cash... and by "wad" I mean 150-250 bucks for one night.
The new people were not allowed to work there, but after a couple months I looked at my schedule and realized that one Saturday night I was going to work Nye's. Some of my fellow valets got jealous... I got excited.
I arrived at 4 PM, ready to go. I looked at the parking lot and shuddered. It was TINY. Maybe enough room for 30 cars... and we had to fit at least 50? Great. I pulled on my jacket as I prepared for the night... placing my car keys and other things into the lock box (the large box on wheels that held all of the customers car keys) I removed the key from the lock box (used to lock the lock box) and put it around my neck.
There are two rushes at Nye's. The "late crowd", and the late "gimme-another-drink, time-to-sing-kareoke, I-don't-know-your-name-but-let's-make-out, can-I-have-another-drink, pleeease-can-I-have-another-drink, whoa-look-I'm-dancing-on-a-table" crowd.
The first rush (the dinner and 1-2 drinks people) arrived between 7-9. The lineup of cars was terrifying. The lot was full, and there was 3-7 cars lined up waiting for their cars to be parked. Me and the other valet sprinted around, moving cars, picking up cars, getting keys, parking cars, etc...
The rush died at about 9:30. We cleared some more cars out of the lot, and only parked a few more. Having a couple of minutes of breathing time, I ran over to the pizza place nearby and scarfed down some pizza. I ran back.
At about 11 PM the second rush started. The lineup of cars waiting to be parked was tremendous... there were probably about 15. I ran up to an older Porsche to hand the owner a ticket. He scowled at me from his old blue piece of junk. "Who's parking my car?" he snapped, glaring. I was crabby, tired, and in no mood to argue.
"Either me or the other valet... why? Is there something we need to know about this car?" I stared him down.
After a minute he and his wife got out of the car and went in. We parked it.
Just as things were getting even more out-of-control crazy, something terrible happened. Somehow (I still don't know how to this day) my key, which was placed in a hidden location (the key that unlocked the lock box) was gone. That's right, the lock box was locked - for good. Just then three different parties came out with their tickets. We looked apologetically at them. "It's going to be a minute folks...sorry..."
We called our manager immediately, who arrived in about 15 minutes. I also had to notify the managers inside, and they rushed outside. We tried prying, pulling, smashing, bending; anything to unlock the freakin lock box. Nothing worked. Finally, after the original three parties had been waiting for about 25 minutes and 5 other parties had been waiting about 15 minutes, we opened it. Running full speed everywhere at the same time we tried to pull up as many cars as possible.
"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP..." The stupid car alarm was going off. I tried the door again... nothing. I tried a different door... nothing. I tried the trunk (for those of you who don't know this, opening the trunk of a car with the key will normally turn off the car's alarm system.) and it opened. The alarm went off. I quickly ran to the drivers door and tried the key again... "BEEP BEEP..." AGHH!!! I raced off to find the owner... there he was, embracing his sweetheart. (As you can imagine I was really looking forward to breaking this up...)
"Sir...?"
I explained what was happening. He gave me a dirty look (like his stupid car was my fault) and followed me to the lot.
He couldn't do it either. I almost looked at him and said, "HA!" but I didn't. As I looked back I realized that there was a stack of tickets for cars to be picked up, and the other valet couldn't greet everyone, park everyone AND pick up everyone's cars. (What was wrong with this kid anyway?)
After those two mini-fiasco's, I was about ready to quit. It was after midnight and all I wanted to do was run to my own car and go home. If only I had known what was coming, I may have done just that.
PART III: I WISH I WERE DEAD-ER ...
The couple walked up to me and handed me their ticket. Panting, I quickly found the keys from the un-locked lock box and sprinted off to find there car. I arrived at the parking space and look around. Obviously the other valet had mismarked the ticket. I couldn't read his writing either. I quickly looked at the keys, only to discover that they were un-marked. They looked like generic copied keys. And there more than a dozen. ARRRRGGG!!! I ran to the nearest car, a large (and very expensive) dark blue GMC Denali. Slipping the largest key in the door (the largest key is normally the car key) I turned it. Nothing happened. I looked down at the key in my hand and to my delight found it was GONE... oh yes, I was holding part of the key (the part you turn with your fingers) but the skinny long metal piece (the part that actually starts the car) was gone... that's right, it was in the door to the GMC. I panicked. Pinching the end of the key that was barely sticking out of the door I pulled it out. Good... at least I had both pieces.
Walking back to the couple, I tried to calm myself. The key was old, probably to his house or something. An easily replaceable key.
"Sir?" I walked up to him trying to be cool and collected. "You drive a GMC Yukon Denali, right?
He leaned close and said in a gruff voice, "WHAT?"
I repeated my question with less confidence.
He spoke clearly. "I drive a PORSCHE... what the hell did you do with my Porsche's??"
Oh, crap. This was the Porsche guy! AGH!
He looked down at my hand and saw the key in two pieces. This time his words weren't so gentle. "That's my *&%!*% Porsche key! You broke my &(^%#^%$ Porsche you !^#$(^#(%^(!#%#^&^@@!!" I backed up as he grabbed the pieces out of my hand and stalked off to find his old crappy Porsche.
He didn't have far to go. Reaching the door, he opened it... the car was UNLOCKED! This wasn't my fault either... the other valet had forgotten to lock the car. The man got madder. I could tell he had been drinking - a lot. His wife had been, too... but they both reacted to alcohol in different ways. The man got mean and boisterous and obnoxious. His wife or whoever she was just leaned on the car and stared into space with a pleasant look on her face.
Getting into his car, the man jammed the tiny piece of key into the ignition. Joining our happy group was my manager and a manager from the restaurant... all very disgruntled. The angry Porsche man turned around and grabbed a screwdriver out of the managers hand... after this I just walked away. I started parking more cars, picking up cars, ect., trying to get this night off of my mind.
A couple of minutes later they were gone. He had somehow started the car, and left shouting threats of lawsuits, ect.
(I heard he later called the main office demanding a new ignition system... he didn't get it - he got a new key.)
It was 1:45 AM and the night was FINALLY winding down a little. A large grouped walked out and handed me a ticket. Pulling up their large read SUV, I got out of the running car. The owner walked up to me.
"Hey man... can you drive us to our hotel? It's just down the road." Oh, yippe skippy dippy just what I was dying to do... Chauffeur drunk people to their hotels. Grrrrrrr.... I looked at the other valet. He nodded viciously - favors like this came at high prices, and it may be worth it. I agreed.
Seven drunkies sat in the car with me... all explaining in loud voices where the hotel was and which road to take. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the hotel which should have taken us 30 seconds to get to. Morons. I got out of the car and waited. The guy came around the car, said thanks, and handed me a $15... not bad. I ran back the one block to the restaurant to find with pure joy that it had closed. My night straight from h - e double hocky sticks was over!
We sat in a dark booth at 2:40 AM and pulled out The Wad. We counted.... and re-counted. We each went home with almost $250. Well-deserved, to say the least.
I would never in a million years re-live that night and valet there. I wouldn't do it for $250 or $400 or any amount of money.
I can honestly say it was probably without a doubt The Worst Night Ever.
May 28, 2005
May 27, 2005
May 25, 2005
A Poem: Let me Hear
Song and Poems
Travel close.
Sometimes I can reach them,
And sometimes I can't get away from them.
My heart is chased
My thoughts are scattered
My head is full
My heart has room,
For Songs and Poems
That fill the space
The void inside
That needs clarity, creative construction
So I can explain to me,
And them,
And all,
What is going on and why
Songs and Poems meet me and
Sing
Listen
Let me in on things I might have missed
A song is a rhythm of my heart,
A poem is an expression of my soul,
Let them sing
Let them read
And then I will understand
And Wait,
Wait,
And then I will be complete.
Jeremy Dahlen 2005
Travel close.
Sometimes I can reach them,
And sometimes I can't get away from them.
My heart is chased
My thoughts are scattered
My head is full
My heart has room,
For Songs and Poems
That fill the space
The void inside
That needs clarity, creative construction
So I can explain to me,
And them,
And all,
What is going on and why
Songs and Poems meet me and
Sing
Listen
Let me in on things I might have missed
A song is a rhythm of my heart,
A poem is an expression of my soul,
Let them sing
Let them read
And then I will understand
And Wait,
Wait,
And then I will be complete.
Jeremy Dahlen 2005
May 02, 2005
Those Duffers
Oh the joyous memories of highschool! They haunt me with glittering visions of stupid homework assignments that I freaked out over, of strange peers I will never forget, and of 90% me/teacher obstinacy.
I will start my story with a lovely woman named Mrs. Satre. We called her Satre, or Sats, or Fido, or whatever we wanted, because she was so out of it she didn't notice anyway. It was biology and I was in tenth grade. Now Sats was into three things: her dogs (cocker spaniels, whom she resembled with her ear-like hair flaps,) her fish tank, and the movie "Contact". We started the year watching Contact on THREE tv screens (simultaneously) in the bio room (she liked technology a LOT) and enjoyed this feeling: "Ahhh, it's one of THESE teachers."
Satre had her grade book sitting in one of her drawers, behind her desk. About half the class would actually just go up behind her desk and get the grade book and change their grades... I don't doubt that some would scribble out the "D-" and replace it with a wobbly "A+". Sats was so out of it that even if she would catch them doing it, they would just apologize and then do extra credit to keep their grade up.
Now, Mrs Satre didn't have a bathroom pass, so she would just tell you to grab a stapler or a magazine or anything that wasn't bolted to the floor to take with you. Even when I was a senior I would see a kid walking down the hall with a giant test tube or a VCR I knew they were coming from Satre's class.
One Year Later... (and this story has nothing to do with Sats.)
I had just arrived back at school, happy. I had finally finished an errand I had wanted to do for a long time... it wasn't really that important, but when you are in highschool everything is important (except for the important things...) Anyway, I had gone to the mall, to the store "Perfumania" to buy some cologne. The cologne, "Drakkar Noir," is actually very expensive and I didn't really buy it all that often. ("All that often" refers to the fact that I had never bought it before this point.)
I arrived back at school - I had some break between my last class and band practice - and sat in the cafeteria. Pretty soon, a pretty girl (with pretty good taste) who was a pretty good friend of mine, walked by.
Here is a snapshot of our conversation:
"Hey, how are you?" I asked, happily.
"Good... hey, do we have band today?" she replied, sitting down across from me.
"...yeah I think... but you never know for sure, DW is such an--"
She suddenly began to sniff the air with great curiosity.
"What IS that smell?" she looked around inquisitively. I shuddered, just having put on a little on my new smell.
She continued, "... Seriously... what is that?? OH! It smells like really cheap cologne! Oh well."
What a great feeling that left me with!
ANOTHER STORY.
My senior year I was in English class. Mr. Sinclair, my teacher, was pretty cool... he understood we all were in the "senior slide" mentality as he explained to us at the beginning of the semester, "You all have the senior slide attitude. You guys will pretty much be useless to me in a couple weeks." Haha, now we would be.
Anyway, one of the projects we did was a debate. I was partnered with one of my friends who was gone the day we picked topics. "Well," I thought, "too bad for him!" I chose the topic "After School Activities" and, being the wise person that I am, chose to be FOR after school activities... my friend would have to be against them.
On the say of the debate, I arrived prepared. I took it seriously at first, but then stopped. This friend must have realized that, duh, there are no good arguments NOT to have after school activities -- he had nothing to say! So, what he did was print out pictures which he then handed out to the entire class. What were the pictures?? They were pictures of horrible world leaders, Hitler, Sadam, and Stalin with MY face copied over theirs! That's right! MY FACE, ON HITLER'S! The class ate it up - they loved it, and all thought and reason was gone from the room. My arguments stood, his argument was that I was a Nazi... I can't remember too well, but I think he won the debate.
I will start my story with a lovely woman named Mrs. Satre. We called her Satre, or Sats, or Fido, or whatever we wanted, because she was so out of it she didn't notice anyway. It was biology and I was in tenth grade. Now Sats was into three things: her dogs (cocker spaniels, whom she resembled with her ear-like hair flaps,) her fish tank, and the movie "Contact". We started the year watching Contact on THREE tv screens (simultaneously) in the bio room (she liked technology a LOT) and enjoyed this feeling: "Ahhh, it's one of THESE teachers."
Satre had her grade book sitting in one of her drawers, behind her desk. About half the class would actually just go up behind her desk and get the grade book and change their grades... I don't doubt that some would scribble out the "D-" and replace it with a wobbly "A+". Sats was so out of it that even if she would catch them doing it, they would just apologize and then do extra credit to keep their grade up.
Now, Mrs Satre didn't have a bathroom pass, so she would just tell you to grab a stapler or a magazine or anything that wasn't bolted to the floor to take with you. Even when I was a senior I would see a kid walking down the hall with a giant test tube or a VCR I knew they were coming from Satre's class.
One Year Later... (and this story has nothing to do with Sats.)
I had just arrived back at school, happy. I had finally finished an errand I had wanted to do for a long time... it wasn't really that important, but when you are in highschool everything is important (except for the important things...) Anyway, I had gone to the mall, to the store "Perfumania" to buy some cologne. The cologne, "Drakkar Noir," is actually very expensive and I didn't really buy it all that often. ("All that often" refers to the fact that I had never bought it before this point.)
I arrived back at school - I had some break between my last class and band practice - and sat in the cafeteria. Pretty soon, a pretty girl (with pretty good taste) who was a pretty good friend of mine, walked by.
Here is a snapshot of our conversation:
"Hey, how are you?" I asked, happily.
"Good... hey, do we have band today?" she replied, sitting down across from me.
"...yeah I think... but you never know for sure, DW is such an--"
She suddenly began to sniff the air with great curiosity.
"What IS that smell?" she looked around inquisitively. I shuddered, just having put on a little on my new smell.
She continued, "... Seriously... what is that?? OH! It smells like really cheap cologne! Oh well."
What a great feeling that left me with!
ANOTHER STORY.
My senior year I was in English class. Mr. Sinclair, my teacher, was pretty cool... he understood we all were in the "senior slide" mentality as he explained to us at the beginning of the semester, "You all have the senior slide attitude. You guys will pretty much be useless to me in a couple weeks." Haha, now we would be.
Anyway, one of the projects we did was a debate. I was partnered with one of my friends who was gone the day we picked topics. "Well," I thought, "too bad for him!" I chose the topic "After School Activities" and, being the wise person that I am, chose to be FOR after school activities... my friend would have to be against them.
On the say of the debate, I arrived prepared. I took it seriously at first, but then stopped. This friend must have realized that, duh, there are no good arguments NOT to have after school activities -- he had nothing to say! So, what he did was print out pictures which he then handed out to the entire class. What were the pictures?? They were pictures of horrible world leaders, Hitler, Sadam, and Stalin with MY face copied over theirs! That's right! MY FACE, ON HITLER'S! The class ate it up - they loved it, and all thought and reason was gone from the room. My arguments stood, his argument was that I was a Nazi... I can't remember too well, but I think he won the debate.
April 15, 2005
Poem
As misty mountains, deep in thought
Awaken on this morn,
As wooded hills and sunfilled trails
Arise in morning song,
I walk and think of things so big,
My mind can hardly hold
And stare in awe of things so tall, so colorful, so old.
And greeted under dewey pass,
A yellow bird sits near
With tilted head he makes a noise,
of welcomed heart-warmed cheer.
I breath in deep and walk along,
Continuing my journey,
But as I ponder what I see,
I feel my head start learning.
For hearts can learn of feelings,
And heads can fill with facts,
But rarely do the two parts mix,
Before we've turned our backs.
But out here where it's clear and cool,
My heart waits for my head.
The two meet up and walk with me,
Not one, but three, instead.
Awaken on this morn,
As wooded hills and sunfilled trails
Arise in morning song,
I walk and think of things so big,
My mind can hardly hold
And stare in awe of things so tall, so colorful, so old.
And greeted under dewey pass,
A yellow bird sits near
With tilted head he makes a noise,
of welcomed heart-warmed cheer.
I breath in deep and walk along,
Continuing my journey,
But as I ponder what I see,
I feel my head start learning.
For hearts can learn of feelings,
And heads can fill with facts,
But rarely do the two parts mix,
Before we've turned our backs.
But out here where it's clear and cool,
My heart waits for my head.
The two meet up and walk with me,
Not one, but three, instead.
April 07, 2005
March 26, 2005
It's 1:45AM...
...and there's a 15-year-old girl in my bedroom. Don't worry, I'm not in the room with her, I'm next door in our office. But I can hear this faint coughing every once and a while and it's kind of eerie. Let me explain.
My Uncle's into violins. Every once and a while, he leaves the town of Remer, Minnesota (population 225) and stays with us here in the cities; usually so he can attend some violin extravaganza or Blue Grass yadda yadda yadda you get the point. Sometimes he sells the violins he builds, too. OK. So, apparently there was this girl who wanted to come with my uncle (from his church) to help him sell his violins and listen to the Blue Grass music. The catch was, she needed somewhere to sleep. My house, although adequately sized, sleeps the amount of people it was designed for: four or five... so now we have my family, my uncle, a cousin, and this girl - all needing a place to sleep. Obviously you can't put all three in the same room, so the girl was given my room.
I was driving home at around 12:30AM when I remembered her. My mind stopped short and I was suddenly annoyed... there was a stranger, not only inhabiting my room, but WRAPPED in my blankets! MY blankets! To make matters worse, I had just received a brand new blanket for my bed. It was dark blue and made of Velux material. For those of you who don't know what that material is, it's the type of blankets they use in hotels... kind of short and furry-ish.... weird, I don't like that description. Nevermind.
12:54PM:
I walk into my house and down the upstairs hall. My door is open. I don't want to peer in in case she's in there peering out, so I quietly start my end-of-the-day grooming... then I find a note.
Jeremy,
You are sleeping in the office tonight. There are some clothes in there already. Goodnight!
Love, Mom
1:04AM:
I walk into our tiny office. Three cushions are laid on the floor with a sleeping bag on top. Some miscellaneous clothes are folded and lay on my pillow. I sigh and put on my pajamas. Climbing into the sleeping bag I find that not only do I have to balance on the cushions so I don't roll off either side, but I'm too LONG for the sleeping bag... I don't fit! Great.
3:30AM
It's pitch black but my bladder is beckoning me to the bathroom. I struggle while trying to pull myself out of the sleeping bag and then accidentally roll off. Dang it! I finally get up and feel my way to the office door. Just as my hand finds the doornob, the knob slowly begins to twist in my hand. I pull my hand away and try to think clearly. Someone is coming into the office. I step to the side as the door opens. Finding myself wedged between the door and the wall, I breath heavily. Then comes a sound... it's a quiet yet distinctively familiar cough. It's her.
What in the heck is she doing?
Is she lost?
Does she think this is the bathroom....?
AGH!........
*Let me confess. The last paragraph is NOT true. All of the story except this part was real, but I was getting bored. My apologies.
Anywho, long story short there was a 15-year-old girl in my room. Some of my friends who know the story refer to her and "15-year-old" and it's kind of become an inside joke...
"Oooh, 15-year-old."
(STORY STARTED MARCH 5, 2005)
My Uncle's into violins. Every once and a while, he leaves the town of Remer, Minnesota (population 225) and stays with us here in the cities; usually so he can attend some violin extravaganza or Blue Grass yadda yadda yadda you get the point. Sometimes he sells the violins he builds, too. OK. So, apparently there was this girl who wanted to come with my uncle (from his church) to help him sell his violins and listen to the Blue Grass music. The catch was, she needed somewhere to sleep. My house, although adequately sized, sleeps the amount of people it was designed for: four or five... so now we have my family, my uncle, a cousin, and this girl - all needing a place to sleep. Obviously you can't put all three in the same room, so the girl was given my room.
I was driving home at around 12:30AM when I remembered her. My mind stopped short and I was suddenly annoyed... there was a stranger, not only inhabiting my room, but WRAPPED in my blankets! MY blankets! To make matters worse, I had just received a brand new blanket for my bed. It was dark blue and made of Velux material. For those of you who don't know what that material is, it's the type of blankets they use in hotels... kind of short and furry-ish.... weird, I don't like that description. Nevermind.
12:54PM:
I walk into my house and down the upstairs hall. My door is open. I don't want to peer in in case she's in there peering out, so I quietly start my end-of-the-day grooming... then I find a note.
Jeremy,
You are sleeping in the office tonight. There are some clothes in there already. Goodnight!
Love, Mom
1:04AM:
I walk into our tiny office. Three cushions are laid on the floor with a sleeping bag on top. Some miscellaneous clothes are folded and lay on my pillow. I sigh and put on my pajamas. Climbing into the sleeping bag I find that not only do I have to balance on the cushions so I don't roll off either side, but I'm too LONG for the sleeping bag... I don't fit! Great.
3:30AM
It's pitch black but my bladder is beckoning me to the bathroom. I struggle while trying to pull myself out of the sleeping bag and then accidentally roll off. Dang it! I finally get up and feel my way to the office door. Just as my hand finds the doornob, the knob slowly begins to twist in my hand. I pull my hand away and try to think clearly. Someone is coming into the office. I step to the side as the door opens. Finding myself wedged between the door and the wall, I breath heavily. Then comes a sound... it's a quiet yet distinctively familiar cough. It's her.
What in the heck is she doing?
Is she lost?
Does she think this is the bathroom....?
AGH!........
*Let me confess. The last paragraph is NOT true. All of the story except this part was real, but I was getting bored. My apologies.
Anywho, long story short there was a 15-year-old girl in my room. Some of my friends who know the story refer to her and "15-year-old" and it's kind of become an inside joke...
"Oooh, 15-year-old."
(STORY STARTED MARCH 5, 2005)
March 25, 2005
Land Before Time XXIV : New Beginnings
Your favorite characters are back! Petrea, Sarah, Little Foot and the rest of the gang deliver big for more wacky prehistoric fun! Along with the classic characters come new faces and personalities including Chica, the South-Central American Wombat; and Joseraptor, an Asian-pacific Islander Raptor. Nikko, the mildly-tempered and open-minded Sea Turtle, proves that slow water animals are people too, and that through understanding, those with open minds can get along with dinosaurs of any race. The last new character, Jesse, is a dinosaur mix, often made fun of... he is called names like 'Half-Claw,' 'Sir Mix-a-breed' and 'Prehistoric Soup Boy'.
The storyline follows the last 23 movies, but adds a new twist towards the end that audiences of all ages with adore. The basic storyline goes a little like this: Nikko and Joser (nickname) are always fighting. Joser can't seem to understand why Nikko is so slow moving. He teases him incessantly, ignoring Nikko's feelings and making him feel bad for only having one Sea-Parent. Nishi, Nikko's Sea-Parent, is a Long Neck who adopted Nikko after his parents were killed in a stampede in The Great Valley. Even though Nishi can't actually go into the water, the two love spending time together.
In a very touching scene towards the end of the movie, the group of friends is gathered around a blazing fire, singing a medley of uplifting songs. One song, entitled "Friends across the Plain" has meaningful words that every parent wants their child to hear. Here's a snippet:
"La la la, friends we are
La la la, sent from far
Are differences are one, for sure
We love and respect each other, for sure
We help each other grow and learn,
Our spirits soar with the golden sun,
With one heart together, we sing
La la la, friends for sure."
This song is only one of the many life-enriching musical numbers throughout the movie. Others include (but aren't limited to:) Friends Rrrrr Family, Our Strengths United; Differences Abandoned, and Beauty Through Acceptance.
In the last few scenes comes a surprise worth waiting for. One of the characters, Nikko, finds the coveted Magic Treestar, which has supernatural and peaceful powers to transport and / or unite people. After Nikko holds up the Treestar to his heart and whispers the Magic Phrase over and over (Friends for ever! Friends for ever!) he and all the gang is transported to...... the middle of New York City! That's right - it's all just a wild set up for the next movie: Land Before Time XXV: Lost in New York. Any movie lover will find these adventures even more wild, crazy and heart-warming than the previous 24 films. The basic synopsis of THIS movie is creative beyond words! The entire gang finds themselves in fun-loving perils like being lost in the NYC subway system or sneaking into a play and then getting kicked out! Other wacky, original moments include the never-seen-before-in-a-movie sleeping in central park and then getting chased by a cop on a horse! The last scene of the movie happens in a crazy taxi ride! They tell the immigrant driver they want go to the HOTEL but he thinks they said BOAT-EL (a popular boating attraction). The whole group ends up falling off the boat and swimming back in time to The Great Valley! They dry off around another blazing fire, arms around each other, swaying back and forth and singing another classic, "Home is Where we Belong, Loving Each Other Forever United... in Harmony".
The storyline follows the last 23 movies, but adds a new twist towards the end that audiences of all ages with adore. The basic storyline goes a little like this: Nikko and Joser (nickname) are always fighting. Joser can't seem to understand why Nikko is so slow moving. He teases him incessantly, ignoring Nikko's feelings and making him feel bad for only having one Sea-Parent. Nishi, Nikko's Sea-Parent, is a Long Neck who adopted Nikko after his parents were killed in a stampede in The Great Valley. Even though Nishi can't actually go into the water, the two love spending time together.
In a very touching scene towards the end of the movie, the group of friends is gathered around a blazing fire, singing a medley of uplifting songs. One song, entitled "Friends across the Plain" has meaningful words that every parent wants their child to hear. Here's a snippet:
"La la la, friends we are
La la la, sent from far
Are differences are one, for sure
We love and respect each other, for sure
We help each other grow and learn,
Our spirits soar with the golden sun,
With one heart together, we sing
La la la, friends for sure."
This song is only one of the many life-enriching musical numbers throughout the movie. Others include (but aren't limited to:) Friends Rrrrr Family, Our Strengths United; Differences Abandoned, and Beauty Through Acceptance.
In the last few scenes comes a surprise worth waiting for. One of the characters, Nikko, finds the coveted Magic Treestar, which has supernatural and peaceful powers to transport and / or unite people. After Nikko holds up the Treestar to his heart and whispers the Magic Phrase over and over (Friends for ever! Friends for ever!) he and all the gang is transported to...... the middle of New York City! That's right - it's all just a wild set up for the next movie: Land Before Time XXV: Lost in New York. Any movie lover will find these adventures even more wild, crazy and heart-warming than the previous 24 films. The basic synopsis of THIS movie is creative beyond words! The entire gang finds themselves in fun-loving perils like being lost in the NYC subway system or sneaking into a play and then getting kicked out! Other wacky, original moments include the never-seen-before-in-a-movie sleeping in central park and then getting chased by a cop on a horse! The last scene of the movie happens in a crazy taxi ride! They tell the immigrant driver they want go to the HOTEL but he thinks they said BOAT-EL (a popular boating attraction). The whole group ends up falling off the boat and swimming back in time to The Great Valley! They dry off around another blazing fire, arms around each other, swaying back and forth and singing another classic, "Home is Where we Belong, Loving Each Other Forever United... in Harmony".
March 19, 2005
 3 19 2005 12 45 44 PM1.jpg)
March 18, 2005
March 17, 2005
The day I left...
...was cloudy. It was too cold or too hot or too rainy or too windy or something like that. Anyway, I left.
There are days in life when all I want to do is leave. To go somewhere where I've been a thousand times; but never really been there. It's a place where a west wind always blows, but just hard enough to make noise through the tall grass. The tall grass would line a dirt road that would be walking on. It would be just be me, the wind, and my thoughts.
In that place where I'm walking, I can see to my left, far, across a field. It's a light green field, with tall soft grass. The wind blows patters and waves over the grass and the rythm it creates makes me stare.
Straight ahead is a lake. It would be small - but not too small. And there's an old tree right out ahead with it's branches hanging in the cool water. There aren't any water bugs or mucky ducks in this pond. It's somehow a flowing lake, a lake with moving water... always cool, clean moving water. To my left the road curves and a hill slopes upward. An anciet fence only half standing watches me silently, it's broken cross beams sleep quietly on the ground. I think about how long the fence post has lay there, but just for a moment.
Nothing in this place is confusing. There's nothing that makes me nervous or wonder too hard about stupid thing... things like, What am I doing with my life? or Where will I be in 10 years? or Who am I going to marry?... or even things like What time is it? or Am I supposed to know that? In this place there is only an endless amount of time to think and be sure of things.. I don't have to wonder about anything. I can be sure of what I'm sure of, and not think about what I'm not. I can breath the fresh wind and exhale nothing but a clear-thought-out nothingness. The air coming out is just as fresh as when it came in. Mmm.
And when I want, it's sunset. And the sun will sit right over the moving lake, and the cool wind will tease me. I can look right at the sunset, and don't see spots. I can think about every detal of the land, the way the sun soaks into the hills, the way the sunshine dances on the water, and the way I sit in the warm evening sun.
And when I feel like it, it's night. But the night isn't solitude, it's comfort. And when I lay on the soft hill, a deep warm sense of security overwhelmes me and wraps me up into sleep - a sleep so deep that even my dreams have dreams.
And when I feel like it, it's sunrise. And if I feel like it the sunrise can last a minute or a day. If I lie in the sun for hours, I don't get too hot. I stay cool and warm and sunny all at the same time.
And I can shed a tear when I'm feeling emotional, or laugh out loud with a satisfyingly good memory. I can act like I'm the actor in a play, or the singer in a song. My voice is beautiful, rich and full. I can sing and sing and sing and never get tired. I can write songs and really appreciate my ability because I'm not singing for anyone but me.
After sitting down by the old tree for a while, I can slip into the water and swim in the clarity of cool, deep thought - I wouldn't have to come up for air ever, I could lay at the bottom staring through the clear flowing water to the sun up above... and still feel its warmth. And after I came back out of the water, I would be dry... (because I don't like to be wet unless I'm immersed in water.)
I don't think this place has a name, but it certainly does exist. I go there when I need to get away from here... from pure familiarity. If you haven't figured it out yet, this place is in my imagination... and unless there is some really creepy Willy Wonka-like process that will transform you into little bits, you have little hope of ever entering my imagination. Oh, and if you actually did enter my imagination, you would have a giant heart attack and my imagination friends would probably laugh at you and then turn into paramedics and try to resusitate you.
Someday I'll let the irrationally psyco side of my imagination write.. but it's hard to keep it under control so I don't let it out too often.
There are days in life when all I want to do is leave. To go somewhere where I've been a thousand times; but never really been there. It's a place where a west wind always blows, but just hard enough to make noise through the tall grass. The tall grass would line a dirt road that would be walking on. It would be just be me, the wind, and my thoughts.
In that place where I'm walking, I can see to my left, far, across a field. It's a light green field, with tall soft grass. The wind blows patters and waves over the grass and the rythm it creates makes me stare.
Straight ahead is a lake. It would be small - but not too small. And there's an old tree right out ahead with it's branches hanging in the cool water. There aren't any water bugs or mucky ducks in this pond. It's somehow a flowing lake, a lake with moving water... always cool, clean moving water. To my left the road curves and a hill slopes upward. An anciet fence only half standing watches me silently, it's broken cross beams sleep quietly on the ground. I think about how long the fence post has lay there, but just for a moment.
Nothing in this place is confusing. There's nothing that makes me nervous or wonder too hard about stupid thing... things like, What am I doing with my life? or Where will I be in 10 years? or Who am I going to marry?... or even things like What time is it? or Am I supposed to know that? In this place there is only an endless amount of time to think and be sure of things.. I don't have to wonder about anything. I can be sure of what I'm sure of, and not think about what I'm not. I can breath the fresh wind and exhale nothing but a clear-thought-out nothingness. The air coming out is just as fresh as when it came in. Mmm.
And when I want, it's sunset. And the sun will sit right over the moving lake, and the cool wind will tease me. I can look right at the sunset, and don't see spots. I can think about every detal of the land, the way the sun soaks into the hills, the way the sunshine dances on the water, and the way I sit in the warm evening sun.
And when I feel like it, it's night. But the night isn't solitude, it's comfort. And when I lay on the soft hill, a deep warm sense of security overwhelmes me and wraps me up into sleep - a sleep so deep that even my dreams have dreams.
And when I feel like it, it's sunrise. And if I feel like it the sunrise can last a minute or a day. If I lie in the sun for hours, I don't get too hot. I stay cool and warm and sunny all at the same time.
And I can shed a tear when I'm feeling emotional, or laugh out loud with a satisfyingly good memory. I can act like I'm the actor in a play, or the singer in a song. My voice is beautiful, rich and full. I can sing and sing and sing and never get tired. I can write songs and really appreciate my ability because I'm not singing for anyone but me.
After sitting down by the old tree for a while, I can slip into the water and swim in the clarity of cool, deep thought - I wouldn't have to come up for air ever, I could lay at the bottom staring through the clear flowing water to the sun up above... and still feel its warmth. And after I came back out of the water, I would be dry... (because I don't like to be wet unless I'm immersed in water.)
I don't think this place has a name, but it certainly does exist. I go there when I need to get away from here... from pure familiarity. If you haven't figured it out yet, this place is in my imagination... and unless there is some really creepy Willy Wonka-like process that will transform you into little bits, you have little hope of ever entering my imagination. Oh, and if you actually did enter my imagination, you would have a giant heart attack and my imagination friends would probably laugh at you and then turn into paramedics and try to resusitate you.
Someday I'll let the irrationally psyco side of my imagination write.. but it's hard to keep it under control so I don't let it out too often.
March 10, 2005
Krunchy Kookie
Hello friends! Hello enemies! Hello Mary Perez! (You'll all understand that in a couple of days.) Welcome to my NEW authentic Asian Restauraunte (don't you like the way I spelled that?) I have named it
KungKookie's Asian Buffet and Small Person Feed Trough.
My specialty is 4tune Kukies... as you can see, I've renamed them to reflect my authentic Asian background and original creativeness! Mmm! Aren't you just cravin' for a 4tune Kukie?
Since you are all invited as VIPS whenever you come to my restauraunte, I'm going to let you in on a pre-internet visit to read some of the 4tunes you might find in your 4tune Kukie. I know many times in REGULAR, generic, non-creative Fortune Cookies, you might find Asian-type sayings, Chinese quips, and lucky numbers... what nonsense! At KungKookie's Asian Buffet and Small Person Feed Trough, our 4tune Kukies are filled with real-life information that can help you live each day! They may inspire you, or make you think... they may just be a bit of good-sense information. 4tune Kukies are made special, to help you learn how to be a better, more Asian person... to let your inner Sushi-eater get out it's chopsticks and say, "Kung Foo!"
Kukie Sample #1
"He who has the last laugh always laughs the hardest."
Kukie Sample #2
"Learn Chinese! 'Pao tang ufono eep chung chung tatty kat.' You're a pro! You just said, 'Gimme some more of that Sangchao Fish! It takes yummy!' "
Kukie Sample #3
"Real-Life Fact #855: Six out of eight African American males will do prison time at least once in their lifetime... why hide the truth!"
Kukie Sample #4
"World questionnaire: Why do really fat women always wear navy blue or black stretchpants? And what is that bag-type thing that hangs down...you know, it's under the stomach but sits on the legs? Are they storing nuts and berries for winter? ...more like they're storing cantaloupes and watermelons."
Kukie Sample #5
"You've got an Apolokukie! All it is is an apology for a 4tune Kukie that has offended you."
Kukie Sample #6
"Learn Chinese! 'Fao tan cheep nop, sainhe yip yan yan! Chu ke nup Suni nao pancheko!' You're a pro! You just said, "Dang it! Why is my phone bill so high!? I only called Suni once, not twice!"
Kukie Sample #7
"Real Life Fact #102: You are a disappointment to your family. Grandpa Chao-Ling is the only one whose eyes find favor with you."
Kukie Sample #8
"World questionnaire: Just because someone is Asian doesn't NECESSARILY mean they know how to re-route a modem bypass network or to make tiny unnecessary toys from scratch. It DOES mean that they can take pictures of you using their Kodak camera and hold up the "peace" sign to make you laugh while wearing a super shiny pink backpack with Britney Spears on it."
Kukie Sample #9
"You've got an Apolokukie! The 4tune Kukie Kompany Ink. would like to sincerely apologize for any of our kukies that may have offended you or someone you know or someone of Asian decent."
THAT'S JUST A SNAPSHOT OF SOME OF OUR GREAT KUKIES! I hope you will join me as my new restauaunte opens on _____ __TH, 20__. I'll soon post a Ku-pon so you can get a GREAT deal the first time you come in and dine.
Have a Kuk-tastic DAY!
PS... Oh my gosh what have I written.
KungKookie's Asian Buffet and Small Person Feed Trough.
My specialty is 4tune Kukies... as you can see, I've renamed them to reflect my authentic Asian background and original creativeness! Mmm! Aren't you just cravin' for a 4tune Kukie?
Since you are all invited as VIPS whenever you come to my restauraunte, I'm going to let you in on a pre-internet visit to read some of the 4tunes you might find in your 4tune Kukie. I know many times in REGULAR, generic, non-creative Fortune Cookies, you might find Asian-type sayings, Chinese quips, and lucky numbers... what nonsense! At KungKookie's Asian Buffet and Small Person Feed Trough, our 4tune Kukies are filled with real-life information that can help you live each day! They may inspire you, or make you think... they may just be a bit of good-sense information. 4tune Kukies are made special, to help you learn how to be a better, more Asian person... to let your inner Sushi-eater get out it's chopsticks and say, "Kung Foo!"
Kukie Sample #1
"He who has the last laugh always laughs the hardest."
Kukie Sample #2
"Learn Chinese! 'Pao tang ufono eep chung chung tatty kat.' You're a pro! You just said, 'Gimme some more of that Sangchao Fish! It takes yummy!' "
Kukie Sample #3
"Real-Life Fact #855: Six out of eight African American males will do prison time at least once in their lifetime... why hide the truth!"
Kukie Sample #4
"World questionnaire: Why do really fat women always wear navy blue or black stretchpants? And what is that bag-type thing that hangs down...you know, it's under the stomach but sits on the legs? Are they storing nuts and berries for winter? ...more like they're storing cantaloupes and watermelons."
Kukie Sample #5
"You've got an Apolokukie! All it is is an apology for a 4tune Kukie that has offended you."
Kukie Sample #6
"Learn Chinese! 'Fao tan cheep nop, sainhe yip yan yan! Chu ke nup Suni nao pancheko!' You're a pro! You just said, "Dang it! Why is my phone bill so high!? I only called Suni once, not twice!"
Kukie Sample #7
"Real Life Fact #102: You are a disappointment to your family. Grandpa Chao-Ling is the only one whose eyes find favor with you."
Kukie Sample #8
"World questionnaire: Just because someone is Asian doesn't NECESSARILY mean they know how to re-route a modem bypass network or to make tiny unnecessary toys from scratch. It DOES mean that they can take pictures of you using their Kodak camera and hold up the "peace" sign to make you laugh while wearing a super shiny pink backpack with Britney Spears on it."
Kukie Sample #9
"You've got an Apolokukie! The 4tune Kukie Kompany Ink. would like to sincerely apologize for any of our kukies that may have offended you or someone you know or someone of Asian decent."
THAT'S JUST A SNAPSHOT OF SOME OF OUR GREAT KUKIES! I hope you will join me as my new restauaunte opens on _____ __TH, 20__. I'll soon post a Ku-pon so you can get a GREAT deal the first time you come in and dine.
Have a Kuk-tastic DAY!
PS... Oh my gosh what have I written.
March 09, 2005
GOSH! I'M FLIPPIN SORRY!
I PROMISE there are actual blogs on the way... I have FOUR that I'm working on simultaneously, so one will be posted for sure by tommorrow night.
It's going to be about fortune cookies, so you'll want to check back soon!
Fo Shizzle,
Jeremy
It's going to be about fortune cookies, so you'll want to check back soon!
Fo Shizzle,
Jeremy
March 08, 2005
Mary Perez
This post has been laying around my backoffice, taking up memory...
_____________________________________________________________
July 15, 2004
*RIIIIIING....RIIIIIIING......*
"Hello?"
(A really nasal annoying fuzzy voice) "MARY PEREZ?"
"What?"
"Mary Per-ez? Is that you? I'm calling for a Mary Perez."
I'm confused.
"Uh, I don't know who that is... you have the wrong phone number."
"There's no Mary Perez here? Mary Perez?"
"NO." Now I'm getting ticked...and gosh, how many more times could she say 'Mary Perez'?
July 21, 2004:
Same thing as above.
July 31; August 4,6,7,16,18,29:
Same thing as above.
WHO IS MARY PEREZ?
If you know who she is, email me. If you have any idea who this is... please, PLEASE let me know. Why am I so eager to get to know this Mary Perez? Simply because I believe her to be my soulmate.
"With Love" a poem by Jeremy Dahlen to future wife, Mary... the love of my life.
"Oh Mary, your gentle face,
Caresses my eyes with ocean spray.
You're deep stare, reels me in on your
fishing pole of love.
You're crisp attitude welds me
To the ring I wear.
Undying,
Unbroken,
Unleashed... our Love."
_____________________________________________________________
July 15, 2004
*RIIIIIING....RIIIIIIING......*
"Hello?"
(A really nasal annoying fuzzy voice) "MARY PEREZ?"
"What?"
"Mary Per-ez? Is that you? I'm calling for a Mary Perez."
I'm confused.
"Uh, I don't know who that is... you have the wrong phone number."
"There's no Mary Perez here? Mary Perez?"
"NO." Now I'm getting ticked...and gosh, how many more times could she say 'Mary Perez'?
July 21, 2004:
Same thing as above.
July 31; August 4,6,7,16,18,29:
Same thing as above.
WHO IS MARY PEREZ?
If you know who she is, email me. If you have any idea who this is... please, PLEASE let me know. Why am I so eager to get to know this Mary Perez? Simply because I believe her to be my soulmate.
"With Love" a poem by Jeremy Dahlen to future wife, Mary... the love of my life.
"Oh Mary, your gentle face,
Caresses my eyes with ocean spray.
You're deep stare, reels me in on your
fishing pole of love.
You're crisp attitude welds me
To the ring I wear.
Undying,
Unbroken,
Unleashed... our Love."
February 23, 2005
February 20, 2005
February 17, 2005
Stupids
I've come to the conclusion, after reading an article in Reader's Digest, that famous people were never meant to talk. They should just walk around being beautiful - but being silently beautiful - because the majority of them need to go back to kindergarten and learn how to be nice, they need to go back to high school and remember what it was like to be a normal, hormonal teenager, and they need to go back to college and actually go to class this time.
A picture of Jennifer Garner, smiling sweetly with a slightly tilted head (the Sear's pose) is posted next to her quote:
"It's not a bad thing, is it, to be strong in some ways and fragile and vulnerable in others?"
Yes, Jennifer, it's a very bad thing... naughty naughty girl! You must either be completely strong and robotic and iron-fisted or delicate and emotionaly fragile like a wilted honeydew colored chrysanthamum.
Lance Armstrong, famous athlete (duh,) said this in The London Times:
"When I was sick, I didn't want to die. When I race, I don't want to lose. Dying and losing, it's the same thing." *Sigh... wow. I don't think I'll ever get to that point in athletics... although most of you can attest to the fact that even though sometimes when I don't jump as high as I could on the trampoline, I don't ever EVER let it win! I get right back on that thing and whip it. I WILL NEVER FAIL!
Anyway...
This extremely deep, thought-provoking quote was from Matthew Perry:
"While this door is closing, another door is opening. It's our job to go find that door." I don't mean to be overly cynical folks, but haven't a million parents said that to their kids for as long as the earth has been in existence? I bet even before they had doors, people were saying it. I can picture young indian mother Wanatikitichi telling her depressed daughter, "When another hut falls over because we didn't make it right, another one will be made... right this time... and it won't fall over... hopefully."
Or what about, "While this door is closing, the back door is opening, because this door opening causes a suction in the house and opens the back door." I can picture my dad saying that.
Anyway, the question is, do celebrities think that these things are so original or so profound just becuause THEY thought them? and it should be RE-quoted and printed in the Reader's Digest? Whatever.
I'll end with this quote from Dolly Parton:
"It costs a lot of money to look this cheap."
We can all learn a lesson in self-value from this one.
A picture of Jennifer Garner, smiling sweetly with a slightly tilted head (the Sear's pose) is posted next to her quote:
"It's not a bad thing, is it, to be strong in some ways and fragile and vulnerable in others?"
Yes, Jennifer, it's a very bad thing... naughty naughty girl! You must either be completely strong and robotic and iron-fisted or delicate and emotionaly fragile like a wilted honeydew colored chrysanthamum.
Lance Armstrong, famous athlete (duh,) said this in The London Times:
"When I was sick, I didn't want to die. When I race, I don't want to lose. Dying and losing, it's the same thing." *Sigh... wow. I don't think I'll ever get to that point in athletics... although most of you can attest to the fact that even though sometimes when I don't jump as high as I could on the trampoline, I don't ever EVER let it win! I get right back on that thing and whip it. I WILL NEVER FAIL!
Anyway...
This extremely deep, thought-provoking quote was from Matthew Perry:
"While this door is closing, another door is opening. It's our job to go find that door." I don't mean to be overly cynical folks, but haven't a million parents said that to their kids for as long as the earth has been in existence? I bet even before they had doors, people were saying it. I can picture young indian mother Wanatikitichi telling her depressed daughter, "When another hut falls over because we didn't make it right, another one will be made... right this time... and it won't fall over... hopefully."
Or what about, "While this door is closing, the back door is opening, because this door opening causes a suction in the house and opens the back door." I can picture my dad saying that.
Anyway, the question is, do celebrities think that these things are so original or so profound just becuause THEY thought them? and it should be RE-quoted and printed in the Reader's Digest? Whatever.
I'll end with this quote from Dolly Parton:
"It costs a lot of money to look this cheap."
We can all learn a lesson in self-value from this one.
February 05, 2005
February 01, 2005
January 22, 2005
January 14, 2005
We be Trip'in
Greetings all of my favorite people, the people who take a few moments out of their lives to read my blog. Kudos to you all, if you have a blog, I read it too. Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
-- -- -- Trip'in --- --- ---
The are seven of us.
We weren't always together. I guess you would have to say we found each other. A couple of us were friends in groups of twos or threes and over time we joined to form Seven. What a seven it is.
It's gotten to the point beyond casual. You know yourself, you can be just exactly who you want to be with your close family, you can be as weird or as quiet or as loud as you want and they won't think any less of you. That's a good feeling; knowing that you don't have to second-guess a random outburst or thoughtless gesture; knowing that you won't be judged or critiqued on what you look like or how you come across or anything like that. Know when you wake up in the morning no one will look at you and say, "yuck".
But it's beyond that - it's past that point with us. It's to the point past stereotypical "close friendship". It's to the point where, even if I tried to stay away from these people, I couldn't - I love them all, I'm drawn to them. And I know that no matter where life will take us all, whether it be closer together or far away from each other, I will forever be connected to them.
There are times when I think about that; the moment that will cause a lasting impression to be melted into my mind: Someone leaves. Another moves far away forever... Another moves the opposite direction...Another takes a job in Europe or some other far off place...Another, another, another...and there we all are - all apart. I dread that moment.
I don't know if it will happen like that, maybe it won't. But life is mysterious and confusing who can really tell? I know in one way or another life will lead us apart, but like I said before, life lived apart will still be together, because we are The Seven.
Let me move on. I don't mean to be emotional (which I am) or over the top (which I am) or even unnecessarily pessimistic (which I sometimes....dang) and I don't want this blog to be really "inside joke-ish" so let me move on to more entertaining things; for, let's be honest here, the only reason you come here is to laugh!... so I'll try not to disappoint you.
***Names have been changed in the following story to protect identities***
I went on a road trip a little while ago. There were only six of us Seven there. We missed dear Gretta terribly. Actually her name will be Lorally for this story... no, Laura... yeah, I like that better. Laura. We missed Laura terribly.
7:30AM Saturday
My alarm clock (my cell phone) goes off. It's buzzing and chiming and all I want to do is jump off my tall bed, pick it up and then smash it to bits on the floor (Groundhog Day anyone??) Stupid thing. I peel myself out of bed and roll to the bathroom where I almost fall asleep while soaping up. (Don't you hate that term 'soaping up'? It sounds like a really old-school book depicting people who used to bathe once a week (Saturday nights) in metal washbins.) Anyway, I didn't fall asleep, so I got on out of the shower and threw on some clothes. Then I tried to eat something, but "eating" and "before 9AM" don't go too well together for me, soI ended up consuming the amount of calories equal to a glass of water.
8:02AM
Nusheema's car pulls up. I walk outside looking like I used to look when I went to highschool... disheveled hair, rumpled clothes, puffy eyes. All I could think of was getting into that car and soothing my soul to the soft sounds of Delilah. Ahhhh... I opened the door. "Let me see you 1, 2 step! I love it when you 1, 2 step!" Whoa. B96 greets me with a bump...sensory overload.
8:30AM
There are Four of us now, pulling up outside Amber's house. No, I don't like that name.. how about Angel... yeah, that's better. No......... Amy. yeah, Amy. We pulled up outside Amy's house, jumped in her car and started our journey.
9:15AM
Miguel and I have some seriously close time. The back seat of a Mitsubishi (that sounds like some sort of sushi) Lancer is not what one might call Extra Super Deluxe Roomy, so we got to know each other reeeeal well. But it all works out, because Miquel is the brother I never had, and to him I'm the... uhhh, weird cousin he never had. (Oh, man!) Anyway, we like being together so even those reeeeally close moments suited us just fine.
11:00AM
Rest stop. You know the type, the shady trucker rest stops... a building consisting of two bathrooms and a lot of fat truckers. Sometimes there's a family from Montana... the dad is shouting at the two little kids to "go potty" and then get into the SUV. Oh, and there's always one of those really quiet caretaker people rustling around in the background, peeking out from behind a bush or cleaning a window here or there.
While we were stopping, Mike picked up an "18 Wheeler Singles" magazine which, before then, I never knew existed. Let me tell you, we had a good laugh over that paper. I brought it home to show my family (who were pretty creeped out by it too) but I don't think they ever read the one entitled "Sexy Grandma seeks sexy Grandpa" (that's not a joke, I have it at my house.) But enough of that...... yuck yuck yuck. (PS. If I'm ever old, single, a hick, and a trucker, remind me never to put an ad in "18 Wheel Singles" OK? Tell me to go marry my fuselage. Thanks.)
12:30PM
We arrive in Moorhead and are greeted by our dear friend, Junip. We quickly go up to her dorm room and chill out...she has a nice dorm (with nice amenities too!) along with the picture perfect college campus. Cool. We play ping pong, watch TV and then do a mini tour of the school. Then we head out to dinner.
7:03PM
Try to imagine your favorite food. Try to imagine your least favorite body part. Now combine the two and you'll feel almost like Junip did at dinner. She found something SICK in her desert. It's so rude that I can't write it on this blog because this blog is rated PG13 and not R. Anyway, we had a good laugh over it and it ended up well because we now have another ridiculous memory tucked away.
8:15PM
The sign is green, very plain and in white letters reads: "Motel 75". We pull in and join the two other cars in the massive parking lot (the two cars were probably the owner's and only employee's cars). Walking in, we stomp the snow off our shoes and sacrifice Junip to the creepy man at the front desk. He is about 20, has a bowl cut, a scraggly makeshift beard and shifty, puffy red eyes. He looks up and says, "How many rusty knives---errrr, rooms, did you want?"
*It actually ended up being a nice hotel. Junip threw a little towel into the toilet for some reason...she's sometimes a bit freaky...but other than that, no damage was done to the hotel.
10:37PM
We all stared, breathless, as the Fear Factor host continued, "All you have to do is eat these crusty maggot larvae, swim through that pirranah infested nuclear waste, climb that 7,000ft electrical tower (surging with 4 kilowatts of power) and then simply paraglide down to this 3-ft target that is on this spinning jetty, meticulously balanced over the Pacific Ocean... Ready?"
That show is insane.
3AM
The doornob slowly spins with a creek. My eyes flutter open and my heart skips a beat. Someone is coming into my room. I try not to let my quivering nerves show through my typically-hotel valour blankets. A figure, dressed in black, moves farther into the room. The moon beams dance on the floor, hidden momentarily by the moving window shades. A beam of dim white light reaches his face. It's none other than the 20-year-old crust factory who was manning the front desk when we checked in. I lay still, completely still, watching him move slowly. He bent down over our luggage and began rummaging through it. He stood up quickly, something in his hand flashed dully, moonlight reflecting off of it. I heard the crunch of a wrapper and craned my neck off my pillow to see what he was doing. What...? Was he... no! It couldn't be..... yes! He was! He was eating a granola bar! He walked briskly but quietly to the door and closed it softly behind him. My heart slowed and my mind churned. I laid awake until 4AM, my only conclusion being his sheer hunger and need for nutrients forced him to our room because we were the only people in the hotel! I went to sleep feeling pity for him. Poor kid. They must not have too much food 'round these parts. (***This section of the story has been partially changed due to boring content, i.e. sleeping***)
8:27AM
"Boys..." The voice was faint at first as I began to be pulled from the warm weightlessness of sleep. "Boys..." The voice was a little louder now and more earnest. I was almost awake. "BOYS!!!!!" A punching fist met my thigh made sure I was good and awake. Amy stood by us, smiling sweetly. "My mom called... we have to go....... NOW."
We argued (obviously) about leaving, but in the end figured we should leave or either, A) Amy would punch us and pinch us to death, or B) her mom would invent timetravel, morph into our room, rescue her baby, and then destroy us for our foolish insolence. (Her mom can be known to go to great extremes to protect her young.)
11:58AM
I'm standing at the pop refill machine at a McDonalds, filling up my cup and smelling dirty cat litter. "Does anyone else smell that?" A man next to me gives me a side-look and continues to fill up his cup. No one smelled it. I know there wasn't an option for filling your cup up with the new pop sensation "KittyKittySoda" so I concluded I must be going crazy. That is possible, I suppose.
1:10PM
I walk up to my front door and it swings open. My dad holds it open and then walks downstairs with barely a "hello". Hmm... I walk upstairs, my arms loaded with piles of stuff and I quickly find an empty spot in the living room to unload.
"Why are you home?..." Huh? It's so good to be home, isn't it? "I mean, we thought you were coming home later than this!" my mom looks at me inquisitively. I just shrug, "I'm home early."
We were gone for about 30 hours. It was a quick trip, but really enjoyable. It's amazing how many funny things can happen to a group of friends in such a short timespan! I love being with my friends, experiencing so many random and hilarious things. I look forward to summer when we'll camp (via indoor plumbing, heated pool, and complementary breakfast lunch and dinner,) when we'll stay up late laughing (9PM and I'm gone folks) and do the other random things we do like bike riding, bowling and terrorizing peticular adults.
This was long and took too much editing. I'm tired.
Talk to you all soon,
Jeremy.
-- -- -- Trip'in --- --- ---
The are seven of us.
We weren't always together. I guess you would have to say we found each other. A couple of us were friends in groups of twos or threes and over time we joined to form Seven. What a seven it is.
It's gotten to the point beyond casual. You know yourself, you can be just exactly who you want to be with your close family, you can be as weird or as quiet or as loud as you want and they won't think any less of you. That's a good feeling; knowing that you don't have to second-guess a random outburst or thoughtless gesture; knowing that you won't be judged or critiqued on what you look like or how you come across or anything like that. Know when you wake up in the morning no one will look at you and say, "yuck".
But it's beyond that - it's past that point with us. It's to the point past stereotypical "close friendship". It's to the point where, even if I tried to stay away from these people, I couldn't - I love them all, I'm drawn to them. And I know that no matter where life will take us all, whether it be closer together or far away from each other, I will forever be connected to them.
There are times when I think about that; the moment that will cause a lasting impression to be melted into my mind: Someone leaves. Another moves far away forever... Another moves the opposite direction...Another takes a job in Europe or some other far off place...Another, another, another...and there we all are - all apart. I dread that moment.
I don't know if it will happen like that, maybe it won't. But life is mysterious and confusing who can really tell? I know in one way or another life will lead us apart, but like I said before, life lived apart will still be together, because we are The Seven.
Let me move on. I don't mean to be emotional (which I am) or over the top (which I am) or even unnecessarily pessimistic (which I sometimes....dang) and I don't want this blog to be really "inside joke-ish" so let me move on to more entertaining things; for, let's be honest here, the only reason you come here is to laugh!... so I'll try not to disappoint you.
***Names have been changed in the following story to protect identities***
I went on a road trip a little while ago. There were only six of us Seven there. We missed dear Gretta terribly. Actually her name will be Lorally for this story... no, Laura... yeah, I like that better. Laura. We missed Laura terribly.
7:30AM Saturday
My alarm clock (my cell phone) goes off. It's buzzing and chiming and all I want to do is jump off my tall bed, pick it up and then smash it to bits on the floor (Groundhog Day anyone??) Stupid thing. I peel myself out of bed and roll to the bathroom where I almost fall asleep while soaping up. (Don't you hate that term 'soaping up'? It sounds like a really old-school book depicting people who used to bathe once a week (Saturday nights) in metal washbins.) Anyway, I didn't fall asleep, so I got on out of the shower and threw on some clothes. Then I tried to eat something, but "eating" and "before 9AM" don't go too well together for me, soI ended up consuming the amount of calories equal to a glass of water.
8:02AM
Nusheema's car pulls up. I walk outside looking like I used to look when I went to highschool... disheveled hair, rumpled clothes, puffy eyes. All I could think of was getting into that car and soothing my soul to the soft sounds of Delilah. Ahhhh... I opened the door. "Let me see you 1, 2 step! I love it when you 1, 2 step!" Whoa. B96 greets me with a bump...sensory overload.
8:30AM
There are Four of us now, pulling up outside Amber's house. No, I don't like that name.. how about Angel... yeah, that's better. No......... Amy. yeah, Amy. We pulled up outside Amy's house, jumped in her car and started our journey.
9:15AM
Miguel and I have some seriously close time. The back seat of a Mitsubishi (that sounds like some sort of sushi) Lancer is not what one might call Extra Super Deluxe Roomy, so we got to know each other reeeeal well. But it all works out, because Miquel is the brother I never had, and to him I'm the... uhhh, weird cousin he never had. (Oh, man!) Anyway, we like being together so even those reeeeally close moments suited us just fine.
11:00AM
Rest stop. You know the type, the shady trucker rest stops... a building consisting of two bathrooms and a lot of fat truckers. Sometimes there's a family from Montana... the dad is shouting at the two little kids to "go potty" and then get into the SUV. Oh, and there's always one of those really quiet caretaker people rustling around in the background, peeking out from behind a bush or cleaning a window here or there.
While we were stopping, Mike picked up an "18 Wheeler Singles" magazine which, before then, I never knew existed. Let me tell you, we had a good laugh over that paper. I brought it home to show my family (who were pretty creeped out by it too) but I don't think they ever read the one entitled "Sexy Grandma seeks sexy Grandpa" (that's not a joke, I have it at my house.) But enough of that...... yuck yuck yuck. (PS. If I'm ever old, single, a hick, and a trucker, remind me never to put an ad in "18 Wheel Singles" OK? Tell me to go marry my fuselage. Thanks.)
12:30PM
We arrive in Moorhead and are greeted by our dear friend, Junip. We quickly go up to her dorm room and chill out...she has a nice dorm (with nice amenities too!) along with the picture perfect college campus. Cool. We play ping pong, watch TV and then do a mini tour of the school. Then we head out to dinner.
7:03PM
Try to imagine your favorite food. Try to imagine your least favorite body part. Now combine the two and you'll feel almost like Junip did at dinner. She found something SICK in her desert. It's so rude that I can't write it on this blog because this blog is rated PG13 and not R. Anyway, we had a good laugh over it and it ended up well because we now have another ridiculous memory tucked away.
8:15PM
The sign is green, very plain and in white letters reads: "Motel 75". We pull in and join the two other cars in the massive parking lot (the two cars were probably the owner's and only employee's cars). Walking in, we stomp the snow off our shoes and sacrifice Junip to the creepy man at the front desk. He is about 20, has a bowl cut, a scraggly makeshift beard and shifty, puffy red eyes. He looks up and says, "How many rusty knives---errrr, rooms, did you want?"
*It actually ended up being a nice hotel. Junip threw a little towel into the toilet for some reason...she's sometimes a bit freaky...but other than that, no damage was done to the hotel.
10:37PM
We all stared, breathless, as the Fear Factor host continued, "All you have to do is eat these crusty maggot larvae, swim through that pirranah infested nuclear waste, climb that 7,000ft electrical tower (surging with 4 kilowatts of power) and then simply paraglide down to this 3-ft target that is on this spinning jetty, meticulously balanced over the Pacific Ocean... Ready?"
That show is insane.
3AM
The doornob slowly spins with a creek. My eyes flutter open and my heart skips a beat. Someone is coming into my room. I try not to let my quivering nerves show through my typically-hotel valour blankets. A figure, dressed in black, moves farther into the room. The moon beams dance on the floor, hidden momentarily by the moving window shades. A beam of dim white light reaches his face. It's none other than the 20-year-old crust factory who was manning the front desk when we checked in. I lay still, completely still, watching him move slowly. He bent down over our luggage and began rummaging through it. He stood up quickly, something in his hand flashed dully, moonlight reflecting off of it. I heard the crunch of a wrapper and craned my neck off my pillow to see what he was doing. What...? Was he... no! It couldn't be..... yes! He was! He was eating a granola bar! He walked briskly but quietly to the door and closed it softly behind him. My heart slowed and my mind churned. I laid awake until 4AM, my only conclusion being his sheer hunger and need for nutrients forced him to our room because we were the only people in the hotel! I went to sleep feeling pity for him. Poor kid. They must not have too much food 'round these parts. (***This section of the story has been partially changed due to boring content, i.e. sleeping***)
8:27AM
"Boys..." The voice was faint at first as I began to be pulled from the warm weightlessness of sleep. "Boys..." The voice was a little louder now and more earnest. I was almost awake. "BOYS!!!!!" A punching fist met my thigh made sure I was good and awake. Amy stood by us, smiling sweetly. "My mom called... we have to go....... NOW."
We argued (obviously) about leaving, but in the end figured we should leave or either, A) Amy would punch us and pinch us to death, or B) her mom would invent timetravel, morph into our room, rescue her baby, and then destroy us for our foolish insolence. (Her mom can be known to go to great extremes to protect her young.)
11:58AM
I'm standing at the pop refill machine at a McDonalds, filling up my cup and smelling dirty cat litter. "Does anyone else smell that?" A man next to me gives me a side-look and continues to fill up his cup. No one smelled it. I know there wasn't an option for filling your cup up with the new pop sensation "KittyKittySoda" so I concluded I must be going crazy. That is possible, I suppose.
1:10PM
I walk up to my front door and it swings open. My dad holds it open and then walks downstairs with barely a "hello". Hmm... I walk upstairs, my arms loaded with piles of stuff and I quickly find an empty spot in the living room to unload.
"Why are you home?..." Huh? It's so good to be home, isn't it? "I mean, we thought you were coming home later than this!" my mom looks at me inquisitively. I just shrug, "I'm home early."
We were gone for about 30 hours. It was a quick trip, but really enjoyable. It's amazing how many funny things can happen to a group of friends in such a short timespan! I love being with my friends, experiencing so many random and hilarious things. I look forward to summer when we'll camp (via indoor plumbing, heated pool, and complementary breakfast lunch and dinner,) when we'll stay up late laughing (9PM and I'm gone folks) and do the other random things we do like bike riding, bowling and terrorizing peticular adults.
This was long and took too much editing. I'm tired.
Talk to you all soon,
Jeremy.
January 13, 2005
Poems.
Wandering (Jeremy Dahlen 2005)
My mind wanders all day,
stopping here and there to think.
My eyes wander here and there,
stopping only to blink.
My heart wanders all around,
pausing when it sees,
Someone there who stops for it,
and listens to it's pleas.
Let's See (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
I look up to see,
something vast.
I never can tell the height, or depth,
Of the sky.
I can see the clouds that roam,
I can see the dust that blows.
I can see the floating bird,
or the diving hawk.
I can only see so much,
And I think I'm missing
more than I'm seeing.
Question (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
If I stop and wonder what I do,
I find myself just mad.
If I never stop and never think,
I always wish I had.
If I stop a little,
And think a little,
It would all be good.
But I wonder if I'll ever do,
All I know I should.
Books (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
It's sometimes vague and sometimes not,
for poetry is fickle,
When writing rhymes or you're forced to rhyme,
You must use words like "pickle".
So I don't know if I don't prefer,
A song or letter rhymless,
For rhymless works of art and word,
are sometimes viewed as timeless.
But writing is rarely good or bad,
it's somewhere in between,
And people whine and people gripe,
And sometimes school kids scream:
"I have to write a paper!"
"I have to write a book!"
"I have to go to class now!"
"My prof gave me 'the look!'"
But writer's young and writer's old,
don't think of that as bad,
For words and books and poems,
Lent you thoughts you never had.
My mind wanders all day,
stopping here and there to think.
My eyes wander here and there,
stopping only to blink.
My heart wanders all around,
pausing when it sees,
Someone there who stops for it,
and listens to it's pleas.
Let's See (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
I look up to see,
something vast.
I never can tell the height, or depth,
Of the sky.
I can see the clouds that roam,
I can see the dust that blows.
I can see the floating bird,
or the diving hawk.
I can only see so much,
And I think I'm missing
more than I'm seeing.
Question (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
If I stop and wonder what I do,
I find myself just mad.
If I never stop and never think,
I always wish I had.
If I stop a little,
And think a little,
It would all be good.
But I wonder if I'll ever do,
All I know I should.
Books (Jeremy Dahlen, 2005)
It's sometimes vague and sometimes not,
for poetry is fickle,
When writing rhymes or you're forced to rhyme,
You must use words like "pickle".
So I don't know if I don't prefer,
A song or letter rhymless,
For rhymless works of art and word,
are sometimes viewed as timeless.
But writing is rarely good or bad,
it's somewhere in between,
And people whine and people gripe,
And sometimes school kids scream:
"I have to write a paper!"
"I have to write a book!"
"I have to go to class now!"
"My prof gave me 'the look!'"
But writer's young and writer's old,
don't think of that as bad,
For words and books and poems,
Lent you thoughts you never had.
January 11, 2005
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