I’m So Proud…

October 1, 2009

We’ve all been at a red light, and seen an instance in which someone isn’t paying attention and the driver behind him gives him the honk (usually accompanied by yelling “GO!”).

You never want to be the guy to receive that honking. It just makes you feel like a jackass.

A couple weeks ago, I pulled up to a red light behind just one car. The driver in front of me was trying to time the light, and kept creeping forward in anticipation.

He was crawling ahead for like four full seconds, and got almost an entire car length into the intersection, but the light was still red. So he had to come to a complete stop.

Just as he came to a complete stop, the light turned green.

It was that moment, that I honked at him.

Oh man was that awesome. I was ridiculously proud of myself.

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The Bee

May 29, 2009

I’m so upset that I missed the spelling bee. Not on TV, because I did watch some of it. I meant to gamble on.

Each year for the past few seasons, some of my old co-workers and I have gambled on The Bee. We pick five little nerds and the last person with a pick standing wins.

One year, we were out at a bar and our friend was a no show. We called him to find out where he was, and he refused to leave his home before the end of the Bee. Naturally, we assured him it wasn’t a problem, since we commandeered the bar’s big screen TV to watch the end.

The other great memory of the Bee was last year, when I did my research, picked five little MENSA’s to win, and got absolutely crushed in the pool.

By 2 p.m., I was down to one left. My strategy of picking home schooled kids might have backfired as they crumbled under the pressure of being around people who were not their parents.

Distraught, I went to my co-workers office, to lament about my misfortune. I fired off a rant about how home-schooled kids are not mentally tough, sheltered little losers without a competitive edge doomed for a life of loneliness and social retardation.

The smirk on my coworker’s face was obvious, but evil. His wife was sitting there — she already knew I’m kind of a jerk.
And she replied “I was home schooled.”

That was awesome. Luckily, she admitted most of those traits were accurate for home schooled kids and the ones she felt did not apply to her could certainly apply to spelling bee kids. So I’m lucky she’s a cool person and one of this site’s most loyal followers.


I Feel Better About Myself

February 14, 2009

I thought I had crazy thoughts and weird dreams and a hyper-active imagination. I found out today I know someone who… oh I can’t do it justice. I’ll let her explain:

“One time I dreamt a full musical. I still remember the songs and the dances. It was about giving blood:

(sings) ‘Donate Blood. Blood’s Everywhere

…and I was so scared to donate blood. Then I saw it wasn’t scary and said ‘that was fun, let’s do it again!’ In a stage voice.”

In my 10 minute conversation with her, I came up with more than enough material to launch a Krista25.com.

Like when she was willing to do the choreography that goes with her musical (in the middle of the airport gate), I pulled out the flip camera (the sole reason for having it). And she immediately stopped saying “I don’t want posterity to find out.”


So, I’ve Ruined Christmas

December 23, 2008

Apparently, my immediate family moved Christmas up to Tuesday, so that my niece could do Christmas eve at home.

This led to a problem: I ordered stuff online and not all my presents were going to get in by Tuesday.

My mom has wanted something for years, and no one ever gets it for her. So, ordering online, I finally found it.

She wanted this:

Magnetic Poetry

Magnetic Poetry

Now, luckily for me, a package arrived Tuesday afternoon (we had a bout of shopping and weren’t really opening til evening) with her gift.

However, I quickly discovered I either wasn’t focused when I ordered, misclicked, OR they sent me the wrong product. Thank God I noticed it while I was wrapping presents.

What arrived was this:

Not intended for Mothers 40 & Up

Not intended for Mothers 40 & Up

NOT quite what I intended for my 58-year old, church-going Christian, June Cleaver-ish, mother.

As I discover this, I burst out laughing hysterically. But my five-year old niece is sitting outside the door waiting for me to finish wrapping so we can start Christmas. She asks what’s so funny, and all I can think to say is “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Before showing my mom, I showed my sister in law, who howled in laughter for a while. “You HAVE to give that to her!” she exclaimed.

My mom gave my sister in law a “prayer necklace.” It has a TINY little compartment, and you write down what you’re praying about on the paper and put it in the necklace. My mom added “I don’t know what’s going to fit in that REALLY tiny compartment” and I told my sis “I’ve got some small words you could stick in there, and they definitely need prayer over!”

And we lost it. So we had give it to her and take pictures of her half laughing, half horrified face.

Naturally, my father suggested we keep it and use it now. Then looked at the box and said “This is insulting… it says ‘contains small parts.'”

During Grace before dinner, my sis and I both started shaking as we supressed laughter, because we were both thinking the same thing: “… and Jesus, forgive me for the Erotic Poetry.”


I Pity The Fool Who Believes All She Hears

December 9, 2008

I was watching VH1s Top 100 Songs of the 90s, while looking at People I Might Know on Facebook. Just then, Jewel came on TV talking about Who Will Save Your Soul and I started laughing. I began to wonder if one of these people I forgot ever existed who’s showing up among people Facebook thinks I might know happened to be watching the same show I was. And if she turned to her husband and said “I went to college with a guy who dated her.”

This girl was a freshman our sophomore year, and she was always hanging around our place, and her and her friends always proved to be gullible as hell.

One of my college buddies had an unbelievable gift for saying anything with a straight face. He was the ultimate liar. He would casually drop absurd lies into a conversation with strangers just to see who’d notice. So impressed with his ability, I began casually mentioning things about him to other people and watch him explain the story as if it were truth.

Basically, we began putting each other on the spot. One day, the girl in question posed a question about Mr. T. I simply turned to Brendan and said “You know Mr. T, any idea?” Obviously, the girl asked how he knew Mr. T and I enjoyed the brilliant (fake) answer. The man was a genius (“My grandmother lived across the street from Mr. T’s grandmother. I always had tons of the Mr. T cereal growing up”).

So naturally, it was my turn to be put on the spot. A few days later, the very same gullible girl was informed that I had dated Jewel. I got jumped with the question of how it felt to have dated someone who’s suddenly incredibly famous and asked to tell the whole story:

You see, I had a friend who was quite a bit older than me and later became my youth pastor. He was an accomplished drummer and one of his friends was even better. That friend was presented with an opportunity to join one of the biggest Christian bands in the world, the Newsboys. But before that, he went on tour with his obscure band no one’s ever heard of, save the people in the small places they played.


Jewel will disavow any relationship with this blog’s author, if confronted

It was on that tour in which he met Jewel, who was similarly traveling the country playing coffee houses before her album went huge. I caught a couple shows in which Jewel and my acquaintance’s band played together and they introduced us. We hit it off quite well (“She’s really just a sweet girl who plays the guitar and has a great voice. She’s very down to earth.”) Mostly we talked about spiritual things, as my acquaintance and I were both Christians and Jewel was seeking higher meaning. But she was distrustful of organized religion as most people should be.

So after hanging out with her a couple times at these shows, and afterwards, we wanted to hang out more. Every chance I had, we’d do things together. She was trying to stay close to LA, where the record deals were (Eventually, she got signed and even used my cousin Kris as a studio musician on her debut album).

The geography made it really hard to try and have any kind of relationship — I had no car at the time. I wish a real relationship with her could have blossomed, because she is obviously quite attractive and very cool. But no, I don’t really talk to her anymore.

Of the previous four paragraphs, the first and last are 100% accurate and the middle two are 100% blatant lies. When I told it, I expanded on those middle two paragraphs to include more true facts — like how my youth pastor’s girlfriend, now wife, is an awesome person whom everyone likes (true) and she was a large help during the whole ordeal (I’m sure she would have been!).

If you own the Pieces of You album, and check the liner notes, you’ll probably be surprised to see someone named Kris, with my last name on the credits as a piano player. While in the paragraph of blatant lies, I mixed in one accurate fact. Except that I have no idea who Kris is, if we’re related (doubtful), or if Kris is even male or female. I’m simply the type of person who actually reads those liner notes.

But that one tidbit was enough to make this gullible girl accept my story as fact. Anyhow, we all had a good laugh about what these girls must think. Over the next two years, it rarely came up, and we all just kind of forgot about it as we didn’t see these freshman girls much after that.

I just hope this girl forgot about it, in case she’s now working as a music critic, or working for MTV or a rodeo circuit, or any occupation where she could meet and talk to Jewel. I wouldn’t want her to embarrass herself.


I Hate Fruit

December 9, 2008

Don’t get me wrong, fruit itself is delicious. It just has no business getting involved in alcoholic drinks.

I now have a clogged sink in my office (there’s a kitchenette right behind my desk) that is the epitome of nasty. And I blame the fruity shots of pineapple booze I was ordered to consume by a superior officer. I felt just fine, until in order to combat dehydration, I had some orange Gatorade. Hello flashbacks to the pineapple, goodbye stomach contents, hello nasty sink.

The lesson, as always: Clear or Brown, Drink it Down. Yellow or Pink, Don’t You Drink.

Linkage: You know you wanna see the picture of the clogged sink