CORGIS !@#$ YEAH

If you know me then you know I have a secret passion. A passion for a little dog with little legs and a little tail...The Pembroke Welsh Corgi. These magnificent creatures are often spotted in the wild, accompanied by extremely cool kids. It is my hope that one day I will be one of these "cool kids" and share companionship with a Corgi I may call my own.

 The above diagram shows everything I like about Corgis. These dogs are perfect - they aren't too big or small, their ears are freaking sweet, and they have stubby little legs. But the most important thing to note is their butts. LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE TAILS. Anyway a little background info on Corgis I've pulled from google in addition to a bunch of adorable pictures:

The word "Corgi" is believed to come from the Welsh words "cor" which means dwarf, and "ci" which means dog. "Ci" eventually evolved into "gi" thus forming "Corgi". (Excuse my excessive and incorrectly used quotation marks.) The full history of Corgis isn't entirely known, but they were for sure used as working dogs. These little guys are excellent at herding cattle, and this was believed to be their main purpose in life. Other jobs could include guarding farmyards and houses, corralling fowl, or just ratting. But for the most part, these dogs were considered servants rather than companions.

Nowadays though, Corgis are gaining wide popularity for their charming good looks, intelligence, and playful nature. In fact, Queen Elizabeth II can arguably called the most famous Corgi enthusiast around! As a young girl, Princess Elizabeth's father owned a Corgi named Dookie. The royal family loved Dookie so much, they purchased him a friend named Jane. Jane and Dookie fell in love, and the family kept two of their puppies - Crackers and Carol. When Princess Elizabeth turned 18, she was given her very own Corgi named Susan. Since then, she has owned over 30 Corgis, most of which are Susan's descendants.

With that brief history lesson over, let's recap. I love Corgis. They're amazing. I love them so much, I created a tumblr JUST to stalk follow Corgi blogs. I've been looking at animal shelters / breeders to see about acquiring one of these little munchkins, but we'll see. If I do manage to provide a home for one, expect lots and lots of pictures and stories. That thing'll be like my baby. As a parting gift, here's some Corgi advice.

Cam

I Can See Russia from my Cruise Ship.

Alaska. Home of diverse fauna and flora, gorgeous glaciers, and Sarah Palin. It's also where I've been for the last week! My family and I took a last minute cruise to Alaska aboard the Sapphire Princess. Once you get past the fact that only old people take that cruise, it was a lot of fun! Here's the short version:

First I took a plane to Seattle. It was completely uneventful except for the full body scanning and creepy TSA agents.

Next I got to Seattle and checked in to the Holiday Inn Express. Classy! (And uneventful.)

My family and I headed to the dock and waited in a long line the next morning. More security checkpoints to pass through, but these were much less invasive than the airport ones. I even got to keep my shoes on and didn't go past first base with the security officer. After that was more waiting in line to show our passports. The nice lady behind the desk couldn't believe I was in college, thus reaffirming the fact that I will forever look 5 years younger than I actually am. Finally we head outside...and wait in another line, this time to board the ship. Eventually they let us on and an overly excited photographer took our picture in front of a tropical background with a picture of the ship in it. This is apparently the best way to remember waiting in line for a cruise...to Alaska. Ingenious!

Our main deck.

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You

I'm going to Alaska today! I bet cool stuff will happen and I bet it'll end up on this blog!

Snowing in the Summertime

One of my favorite things about summer has got to be the sno-cones. Whoever thought of taking frozen water and mixing it with radioactive looking syrup is a marketing genius. There's a snow-cone stand I discovered with my friend ChanAn (sounds like shenanigans) called Snow Beach. Apparently it's an Austin staple that I had never heard about...here's how the journey to Sno-Beach unfolded.

Me Gusta

Wow, I almost forgot I had a blog! (Kidding, I'm just really good at procrastinating. Who needs regular updates anyway...overrated!) Needless to say I'm still alive. I was actually considering deleting this blog under the pretext that no one actually reads it. Low and behold people do read my stuff! I'm going to attach a screenshot of my all time page views to prove it and boost my self esteem.

Click to enlarge!

Despite the fact that approximately 80% of the views from the United States were me refreshing the page until someone commented on one of my posts and 10% were my mom, I am surprised that real people have even looked at this thing. In reality most of the page views are from people accidentally clicking on my link while googling obscure fetish porn, but I'm going to tell myself that 13 people in the Netherlands think I'm hilarious and charming. One thing I'm disappointed about is the amount of Internet Explorer users that read "But Now I Digress." May God help you...

But seriously, I am flattered that I have a teeny tiny following, it makes me feel like a rock star. That being said, I am going to make some changes. From now on, I will post more often. I know I've said this before, but that was mostly because my mother nagged me about how I never follow through with anything. SO - expect more posts. Compared to my current production track record, this should be an easy fix. And if you have anything you want me to write about / questions you want answered, email me!

camjam80@embarqmail.com 

Who knows - you may be featured on the blog! On a scale from 1 to 10 with a one being "that time your parents forgot your birthday" and a ten being "that time you waited in line for the bathroom three spots behind Oprah"...being featured on my blog would probably be about a 2. Live long and prosper! And leave me comments to further enhance my feelings of paranoia and self-grandeur!

<3 Cam

Student Athletes

I'm a nerd.  I look like a vampire because I spend my days in the library crying about how much I hate chemistry.  My arms are little more than limp noodles from a bowl of Campbell's reduced fat chicken noodle soup.  So when the following happens, I die a little inside.

It's happened to everyone:  Walking along, minding your own business, the birds are chirping, the sky is blue, the grass is green (assuming we're on Earth where grass isn't jacked up).  All of a sudden, an object of sporty origin - it could be a frisbee, baseball, football, etc. - arcs a little bit too far from someone's grasp, and lands right in front of you.  From here, you are presented with several options.  You could:

1) Keep on walking, and act like you didn't see the object, or that you're in too much of a hurry to stop and return it to the person.  This will make you look like a total tool.

2) Pick up the object and walk it back to the person.  This option is very safe, but people will think you are weird and/or laugh at your inability to throw anything more than three feet away from yourself.

3) Pick up the object and attempt to throw it back.  Depending on your strength, dexterity, and confidence levels, there may be a chance the object will land gracefully in the receiver's hands.

This recently happened to me.  A football happened to land near me on my way back from the library.  (It was a Saturday, I really need a life)  Anyway, I made the mistake of stopping to see a frat boy waving "HEY BRO OVER HERE.  BRO!"  Dread hit me like a brick wall.  I picked up the football - there goes option number 1.  I could make the walk of shame, but he was really REALLY far away.  Like more than ten feet away - the odds of me throwing it and escaping with some dignity were less than that of Annakin blowing up the Death Star.  I opted out of option 2, leaving only option 3.  I was going to throw that football.

As soon as I decided on this, I realized the error in my decision.  I can't throw anything except maybe my back out.  And the wind was blowing kind of hard...chances are the football would blow off course and hit someone in the face...and my backpack was on - I can't throw with my backpack on, my genetics book weighed as much as a small child!  As I mentioned earlier, strength as well as dexterity and confidence levels wigh very heavily on this option.  Initially, my confidence was the only thing going for me.  At this point, it was long gone...but the frat boy was waiting.  My eyes met his - he really wanted his ball back.  I really wanted him to get it back without me looking like an idiot.  Despair consumed me.  I grimaced and brought my arm back, then grotesquely hurled it forward as if it were a ramshackle medieval catapult.  The moment of truth had arrived.

Like a dying bird flapping its last, the ball spun out of control and landed about ten feet away from its intended destination.  "Uhhhh thanks" said the frat boy as he retrieved his prize.  I muttered something casual and bro-like but hurried away to the refuge of my dorm room.

In conclusion, who needs to be coordinated?  I consider being uncoordinated an ability to be proud of as well, kind of like being left handed.

Who am I kidding.  I've got chemistry to do.

Cam

Going Up

We've all experienced it.  For some people it may have been uncomfortable.  Some may have found it quite pleasant.  Most find it forgettable.  What is "it"?  An elevator ride of course!  The reason for this post (after my recent dry spell which I apologize for friends) is to discuss rides up and/or down in those metal hellholes humans invented after stairs went out of style.  I live on the 18th floor of my building, so I thought I could share some of my personal elevator stories with you dear readers.

Where Do You Think You're Going?
After a long Friday night of...studying...(Hi mom) I enter my building and head to the elevator.  The doors open and I step in, hitting 18.  A deep sigh reminds me of just how tired I really am, the sweet siren song of my Tempur-Pedic pillow within 18 stories of vertical distance.  Just as the doors are about to close, a hand bedazzled with rings that clearly came from the dollar store intrudes into my private little box.  The hand is soon joined by its body - a sad sight for my current sleepy state.  It was a sorority girl coming home from a party, the dress requirements of which appeared to be a cross between Hannah Montana teeny-bopper and KE$HA white trash.  The only thing more annoying than her general presence was the smacking of her gum and the way she talked to the poor soul on the other end of her Blackberry.

This is a good reference pic.

"HEY *SMACK* HEY *SMACK* LAUGH OUT LOUD!  GIRL HOLD ON OKAY?  *smack*  OKAY?  OH EM JEE SHUT UP? *smack* NO I'M IN THE ELEVATOR.  *smack* NO NOBODY'S IN HERE BITCH!  HAHAHAHA  *snort/laugh*  HOLD ON GIRL HOLD UP."  She then turns to me and asks "HEY MAN IS THIS GOING UP OR DOWN?"  Keep in mind we were clearly on the ground floor of the building...The elevator even says: "Floor one, going up!" every time the door opens.  Despite it being such a late hour, my sense of humor remained intact.  Plus I felt like being a smart-aleck.  My ensuing response was, "Sorry but this one's going down...to hell!" 

Let's just say she didn't get the joke.

Room For One More
I was heading out for the evening from my 18th floor nest.  The elevator came and I was greeted by a lift PACKED with people.  My immediate hesitation must have been evident as the lift's occupants all shouted "Hey man, you can fit come on!  We'll just squeeze a little tighter!"  I begrudgingly accepted their invitation.  As soon as the doors closed I regretted the stupidity of the situation.

Nooooo!

Every time I exhaled it was as if I were getting to second base with the 8 people surrounding me.  Yes, it was that packed; you could say I envied sardines.  Then someone exclaimed: "Guys guys guys...Everybody jump on the count of three!"  Fortunately a girl that was hyperventilating in the back corner suggested that this may not be the best course of action.  Unfortunately no one cared about what the stupid girl with the brown bag said.  "One..."  My life begins to flash before my eyes.  "Two..."  I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel blooming in the distance.  "Three!"  I close my eyes and fresh air surrounds me.  Oh God, have I really died surrounded by idiots?  That's when I realize the clean air of heaven is actually the AC coming through the elevator doors open on the first floor.  People quickly file out of the elevator with looks of disappointment on their faces, sad to have missed out on the thrill of potentially plummeting to their deaths.  I merely make a note to myself:

"There isn't always room for one more after all."

The Four Loko Factor
Before I can start this story, I need to give a quick lesson on Four Loko for those who are lucky enough not to know about it.  Four Loko is an excruciatingly disgusting beverage - half malt liquor and half energy drink.  It's as if a frat boy thought "Huh, I wonder what would happen if I took the depressive effects of cheap alcohol and combined them with a disgusting stimulant such as those found in cheap sugary energy drinks."  Whereas a frat boy may not have followed through with such an idea, Phusion Projects Incorporated did.  Four Loko is now banned in several areas across the United States, as college campuses from coast to coast were experiencing alarming increases in hospitalization due to alcohol related incidences connected to the beverage.

Now that you know what it is, on with the show!  It was a dark and stormy night when the following events transpired and well past the witching hour.  Actually the weather was kind of nice, but since this took place on Halloween I thought I could set the scene nicely.  I was returning from a midnight snack of pumpkin pancakes at a 24/7 café down the street.  I'm waiting for the elevator when in comes two guys.  It's safe to say they were coming from a nearby Halloween party, as one was dressed as a banana, and the other a gorilla.  (Not very original, but I'll give them an A for effort)  Both were clutching cans of Four Loko.  As we waited they asked me to be their timekeeper.  I didn't really know what they were talking about, but I absentmindedly agreed.  As soon as I started counting aloud, they popped the tops to their cans and CHUGGED.  Now let me tell you - Four Loko cans are big.  And potent.  And should not be chugged in 6 seconds like these guys did.  After high fives and chest bumps are exchanged we step into the elevator  At floor 12, banana suddenly gets silent.  At floor 13, he pokes his head into his suit.  At floor 14, he vomits...a lot.  At floor 17, the vomit starts leaking out of his suit creating a sickening pool of blue raspberry flavored puke that smells an awful lot like death.  Thankfully I escaped in time to here his gorilla buddy following suit.  I didn't need to see what the green apple flavor looked like on its second trip through his esophagus.

And that's how I got to see two guys dressed up as a banana and a gorilla throw up rainbows.


In other news, thanks for reading this...And sorry for posting at such an inexcusable rate.  I've been busy doing stupid stuff like being responsible and growing up.  My apologies dear readers.

<3 Cam

Machines and Stupid People

We live in a world of ever changing technology and -

Well I'll just skip the deep and insightful introduction regarding man and machine and get right to the point.  Our story begins on a chilly January 19th, 2009.  Los Angeles native Lauren Rosenberg decided to take a stroll through the park.  Unfortunately for Ms. Rosenberg, who was visiting Utah at the time, the area was relatively unfamiliar.  That's when she made the mistake...the mistake that almost cost Lauren HER LIFE.

One day technology will own you and everything you hold dear.

You see dear reader, Lauren Rosenberg used Google Maps to get walking directions from 96 Daly Street to 1710 Prospector Avenue.  What seemed like an innocent inquiry for help from a machine was really a diabolical plot to end Ms. Rosenberg's life...or that's what her lawyer tried to convince the judge.  You see, Google Maps directed her to take a 1/2 mile section Deer Valley Drive, which is a part of Utah State Route 224...a highway that lacks sidewalks...on foot.  A sensible person would use their brain and reconsider the proposed route when approaching a BUSY HIGHWAY WITHOUT SIDEWALKS WHEN THEY ARE IN FACT ON A WALK; Laure Rosenberg proved to the world she is not a sensible person.

Would you trust this little guy over common sense?

This is when Patrick Harwood enters our story.  You see, Mr. Harwood and Ms. Rosenberg's paths crossed when Harwood struck Rossenberg on the very same highway Google Maps instructed Rosenberg to walk on.  She proceeded to sue the driver of the vehicle for an undisclosed amount and Google for $100,000 because of the company's provision of  "unsafe" directions.

After writing this and rereading it, I still have to shake my head and wonder about this woman's thought process.  What really struck me was that there had to be more cases like this out there, involving man's complete and undying trust in the technology they are supposed to be master of.  Another simple example is a British man who drove his BMW onto a road that was clearly designated as unpaved, damaged it, and demanded the damages paid because it was not his fault - the GPS made him do it.  After really thinking about it, most of us have probably done something similar.  For example, I can't even do simple arithmetic without relying on a calculator anymore.  And how many times tried viewing your favorite show on DVR only to have the last five minutes cut out?  The DVR isn't at fault, it just followed the time slots you as a viewer set; yet still it faces our wrath.

The moral of this story should be pretty clear.  Technology is a useful tool and all, but it must always be used in conjunction with human reason.

Well shoot so much for not sounding deep and insightful!

Cam

Adverting Your Attention

The three people reading this may notice a change to my page.  The little white google ads are there to do whatever it is ads do, and they're generated by keywords from my blog.  So, this week they're suggesting defensive driving classes, and used car sales; pretty cool huh?

Just a picture to take up space.  It's an
advertisement...relevant?  I think yes!

"Aside from the feng shui of my page, ads are also on my mind.   You see, I've managed to find a new addiction...pillaging the limitless bounds of gloriously disturbing craigslist posts that exist today.  Don't worry, I've learned to stay away from the personals section, more commonly known as the human trafficking section.  *Shudder*  Some of the stuff people put on that site is insane!  For example this post entitled "To the Owner of this Sprite Can" was taken word for word from the Houston area lost and found page.  It reads:

"Hi I am sure that you must be looking for it, as it was in fact half full when you lost it. No? Well I just wanted to let you know that I found it in my mailbox and was very appreciative of the gift you had bestowed upon me. As a newly single mother of one six month old baby boy it was a joy neigh, an immeasurable pleasure to end my day dragging my ass out to check the mail while on my third day recovering from pneumonia (just two short days after leaving the hospital) opening my mailbox expecting mail, maybe some news on my child support case that I desperately need after I so very recently found out that my fiancé was fucking around on me while 6 months pregnant with his child...but I digress...No, what I found was not said mail but your missing Sprite can, carefully tucked away. So I did what any rational person in my situation would do. I taped him to a sign and put him up at the entrance to our neighborhood for all to see and hopefully just maybe on your way home from work, school, or wherever the hell you go during the day he will catch your little eye and you two will finally be reunited for good. You can do whatever you want with him, throw him away! recycle him! keep him if you want but let me make myself perfectly clear, if he or anything else EVER ends up in MY mailbox again I swear to God I will hunt you down and make you squeal like the little pig that you are."

Here's the Sprite lady's picture!

I freaking love crazy people.  If this is what happened when someone put a can of soda in her mailbox, what do you think she did when she caught her boyfriend sleeping around?  Even skimming over the titles can tell you a lot.  Here are a few things people are looking to obtain or get rid of on craigslist.

"a man's touch"

"Great Chinese Massage by Amy"

"FREE MANURE"

"~**Beautiful Diaper Cakes**~"

"2 Yr. Old Billy Goat"

"Jackie Kennedy Doll"

"WHISKEY BOTTLES"

"Need a teenager?"

"!*!*!*!*STAY AT HOME MOM WILL CARE FOR YOUR CHILD*!*!*!*!"

Again, these were all taken off of the Houston area craigslist page.  I know what I'm putting on my Christmas list this year...beautiful diaper cakes and a great Chinese massage by Amy!  Seriously, this list definitely sums up every and any useless / wtf thing I could have ever wanted.

So next time you're bored and have nothing to do, just drop on by your local craigslist page - the freaks are waiting for you!

Cam

Near Death Experiences

I'm minding my own business.  The sun is shining, windows down, radio blasting.  In front of me, an elderly woman pulls into my lane...driving the wrong way.  Time slows down - I see the WWJD fish dangling from her rearview mirror.  I see the smoking Marborlo Light hanging halfway out of her mouth.   I see the stupid pomeranian yipping around in the passenger seat.  I see the glazed over look in her eyes as she holds a cell phone up to her ear.  Most importantly, I see my life flash before my eyes.  Is she having a stroke?  A heart attack?  A fit of narcolepsy?  "No," I figure, "she's just really old and neglected to notice the big ass DO NOT ENTER signs."  After making these observations, I put on my blinker and switch lanes.  She then proceeded to drive on by, completely oblivious to the world around her.  This woman, my friends, is an example of a bad driver.

DON'T BE ONE.

I always drive defensively, making sure to go the speed limit, use turn signals, leave space in front of me, etc.  The majority of the population, it seems, doesn't do this.  How many times have you seen some juiced up D-bag weave in and out of traffic in a truck that's meant to make up for his manhood (or lack thereof) at 90 mph just for the hell of it?  What about the soccer mom who puts her mini-van's crash test rating to the test every day just to get a better parking spot at H-E-B.  Seriously lady, do you strap your kids the top of the car too?  I don't want to sound like your parents with all this lecturing, so I'm going to skip the obvious disregard for safety these people have and get straight to my main point.

If you drive like this, no one likes you.

Seriously folks, driving like that doesn't make your car look like an ass.  It makes YOU look like one.

In other news that kind of relates to the title of this blog, I went skydiving.  It was pretty rad, and I might post the video up here for kicks and giggles.

Much love,
Cam

Testing, Testing, 1 2 3

There isn't a snarky remark to open this blog post.  I just freaking hate tests.

I REALLY DON'T LIKE TESTS.

Like a lot.

What I'm trying to get across is I don't enjoy them in the least.

If you're wondering about my disdain for objective examination, know that I relish free time, especially when it doesn't involve test preparation.  After all, I go to school 7 hours a day...do I really need to stuff in even more while I'm at home?  I'm normally not a complainer about this sort of thing, but since it's national AP testing for the next two weeks, I figured I'd express some of my emotions toward the subject.

Did I mention testing isn't on my list of things I like to do?

Anyway, after examining the study habits of myself as well as my peers, I have compiled a list of how people handle tests, or studying in general.  Chances are you'll fall into at least one of these categories or perhaps somewhere in between them.

Obsessive, Compulsive, and Kind of Scary

This test taker takes education very VERY seriously.  To them, a grade isn't just a letter or a number...it's a way of life.  There's a party this Friday night?  Too freaking bad, because there's an anatomy test over the bones of the foot in a week and a half, and they have to start studying RIGHT NOW.  You just found out you've contracted ebola and have a week to live?  That's nice but this tester needed the notes from yesterday's government class before you started telling your stupid sob story.  This person eats, sleeps, and breathes scantrons and number two pencils.  In fact, many only know the first five letters of the alphabet after dedicating themselves so heavily to multiple choice sections of exams.  These people take their own social lives and strangle them to death in an effort to reach that perfect score.  Don't stand in the way of their goals for world domin - I mean good grades...they just might have to kill you.

"Get.  Out."

Time-Killer

Most widely known as the procrastinator, this person relies on a made up belief that they can somehow alter the fundamental laws of nature.  They truly believe they can control time.  Let's give this person a deadline to make a peanut butter sandwich (say 5:00).  The procrastinator's thought process would go like this:

4:00

"All right...Sandwich time!  I could go for some potato salad right about now..."

4:10

"This is a really funny episode of Golden Girls."

4:20

"I think I'll take a nap."

4:59

"Wasn't I supposed to do something by five..."

4:59:99

"OH GOD SANDWICH"

As you can see, this person is like the guy who defuses the bomb at the very last second in all those cool spy movies.  Unlike in the movies however, the procrastinator will probably somehow screw things up because they waited until the last second to have the epiphany that would probably go a little something like this: "WOOPS I really don't know what I'm doing...someone should probably call in an expert," but in reality its too late because the bomb has already exploded and everyone you've ever known and loved is dead because you chose to procrastinate.  Congratulations procastinator.  I hope you're happy.

Stuff really piles up for these people.

Nervous Nelly
These kids are characterized by their strange ticks come test time.  They're often seen (from afar of course) muttering quickly and quietly to themselves, frantically poring over notes, and overall looking like sketchy characters.  During an actual test they'll often let out some really disconcerting moans of displeasure in response to the questions.  They also habitually tap their pencil so fast while thinking, one would swear a motorboat was starting up nearby.  These people get so nervous, they almost always screw up the bubbling of answers and have to start over, which makes their neurotic tendencies even more pronounced and obnoxious.  After they've answered every question (or in some cases left every question blank) this test taker will just sit there, staring...hoping that at the end of the day it really is JUST a test and that when they return home, their parents won't will might still love them.

Jeez, chill out girl.  This is a library.  Everyone knows
you're supposed to be quiet in a library.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the day.  I'm surprised I have any left with all of these AP tests going on...Sorry I haven't posted in so long!

Laterrrrrrr

Cam

Pants Should Cover Your Buttocks

Move over Larry Platt, a new pant protector is in town, and he means BUSINESS.  This time, New York Senator (and NYPD captain) Eric Adams is out to crack down on well...crack.  Will he be able to successfully pull people's waistbands up from their deepest, darkest depths?

HOW CAN THEY EVEN WALK?

OK that's enough with the awesome terrible saggy pants jokes.

Seriously though, Adams recently started an ad campaign to fight the epidemic of low riding jeans that has swept our nation.  He set up six enormous billboards in Brooklyn at the first of the month to raise awareness about the..."dangers"...of such a horrendous fashion statement.  The signs show male models with their pants clinging on for dear life at the lowest elevation possible, which in turn leads to exposed knickers.  Such graphic images are displayed next to deep, truly insightful statements such as: "Stop the sag!" and "We are better than this!"

Photo by Kristopher Radder
Oh Lordy!  Shield your children's' eyes!

First, when did someone decide that promoting a public dress code was worthy of political capital in the first place?  Second, before we throw money into such a matter, shouldn't we try and clean up in more important areas first?  From what I understand, Adams funded the project using campaign funds.  However, I don't see how this would attract voters as a successful campaign strategy - it might even get him capped if he sets foot inside the wrong neighborhood.

Taking the title "fashion police" to a whole new level.

Adams' argument is that since the fashion originated in prisons across the US during the 1990's, young people are essentially emulating convicts; naturally we would want to avoid this.  Still, they're freaking pants.  PANTS PEOPLE.  If you don't wear them properly it just looks like you never learned how to dress yourself like a normal human being, and that my friends is punishment enough if you ask me.

Cam

Signing Off From a Small Town

I'm writing this from a quaint little motel (the Stagecoach Inn), which happens to be barely beating smack dab in the middle of East Texas; more specifficaly, the little town of Woodville.  What business would I have way out here you ask?  I am here for the 67th annual Dogwood Festival, a wonderful smalltown celebration of spring's enterance and winter's exit.  The whole thing is surprisingly pagan sounding - which is strange for a bible thumping small town like Woodville.  Anyway, part of the "dogwood experience" involves my twin sister coming to the festival as a "visiting dutchess" which means she has to attend a Jean Fling and a Kingsman Ball, as well as riding in the local parade and participating in a beauty pageant.  Now, if you know my sister, you may be wondering how on earth we convinced her to enter a freaking pageant.  Our answer?  She agreed to it.

The REAL answer?  Stange family traditions I will never even begin to understand forced her to comply. 

I could be hear all night explaining some of the strange things I've experienced during my stay in Woodville, but for the sake of time I'll keep things short.  Besides finding out that my mom and my sister don't work well together under stress, (there was a lot of screaming and flinging of dresses) I learned that people in Woodville have far less teeth than normal people.  I've yet to determine if this is due to inbreeding or if people here are facing a toothbrush shortage.  Another thing I've noticed is that people here looooooooooove to wear cowboy boots and chaps...even if they aren't riding horses.  It's as if Mr. Cowboy from The Village People started a cult and recruited every male in town.  I half expected people to start chanting "one of us...one of us" as I walked down main street.  Speaking of main street, there isn't a whole lot to do around here.  However, one form of entertainment comes through...EATING.  Holy hyperbola, I have never eaten so much good stuff in such a short period of time.  From chocolate pies and fresh squeezed lemonade to four pound Texas burgers and deep fried shrimp, my stomach has died and gone to heaven again and again.  Seriously...everything tastes better on a stick, including but not limited to: shrimp, oysters, sausages, potatoes, boudin, pickles, chicken wings, and pork.

I ingested like three of these.

At the end of the day though, after everything has all started to come to a close...I'm glad it went down.  We ended up having some fun as a family, which seems hard to come by these days.  I just never would have expected to find it at a beauty pageant in the middle of a social wasteland.  Let me know what strange family traditions you really don't mind putting up with.

Happy Easter!
<3 Cam

Spring Fever

I wake up to the sound of bluebirds, twittering outside my window.

Sunlight streams softly through my blinds.

With a large stretch and an even larger yawn, I climb out of bed to greet the day.

"Good morning world here I c-"

I stop.  "Oh dear God..."

There's jizz everywhere.

Now, before everyone jumps to conclusions let's get one thing straight: I'm talking about pollen, because yes, it's that wonderful time of year.  As the winter thaw commences (or in Texas, the temperature rises above 80 degrees) Earth experiences a new beginning through a season called spring.  Spring is pretty awesome actually...sans pollen that is.  (Give me anything but the pollen, I BEG YOU)  No matter how many Zyrtecs, Claritins, or Benadryls I choke down in the morning, the valves controlling the pressure in my sinus cavity go haywire 100 percent of the time.  The little spores coat everything, and I mean everything.  And of course the trees decide to get their freak on AFTER I've spent a good chunk of my day washing and waxing the damn car.  I mean, who knew the expression "love is in the air" could be taken literally?  But with all of these plants running around and fornicating like animals - pardon the expression - we're essentially breathing in their love juices!

Gross.

We met again...Little yellow agents of Satan...

Anyway, my point is the whole idea of spring kind of sucks for me because of the allergies.  It's so bad that when I walk around with puffy red eyes and snot streaming out of my nose people think I'm just really really really sad.  Most people understand when I tell them "I harve arregies. *sniff*"  However sometimes I'm just really tempted to say something like "My favorite endangered species, the Abor Bug-Eyed Frog has just become extinct.  I can't quell the emotional tidal wave flowing through my body right now."  That way, I don't sound like a total wuss.  Either way allergies suck.

Spring is still kind of nice though, even if it is just foreshadowing the crushing, stifling, God-awful heatwaves that are a mere month away.

With that being said, I need a cool drink.  And an antihistamine cocktail.

Cam

Vampires, Presidents, and Deadly Sausages

Our nation's beloved Abe Lincoln participated in many noble activities such as (but not limited to): freeing slaves, managing the civil war, being honest, and...slaying the undead?  That's right boys and girls, history books have left out a few details regarding Abe's life - according to Seth Grahame-Smith that is.  G.S. is most well known for the best selling Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, his own retelling of Jane Austen's classic love story that turns a polite 19th century comedy into a heart pumping action thrill ride that radiates kickassery.  It now looks like U.S. History will be getting the same facelift with his new novel, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.  I honestly don't know much about the book right now, except that there's a 99 percent chance it'll be incredibly awesome.  I have the official "trailer" below if you're interested.

But now onto a more serious note.  The American Academy of Pediatrics is taking up arms against hot dogs this week.  Apparently, the logs of oh-so-delicious mystery meat have proven to be a serious choking hazard to all children under the age of 14.  Hot dogs are "the perfect plug for a child's airway" says Gary Smith, pediatric emergency doctor and author of a statement published online in Pediatrics.  [I just want to say as a side note, THAT IS THE CREEPIEST DESCRIPTION OF A HOT DOG I HAVE EVER HEARD GARY SMITH]  First of all, a small child can choke on anything, so I'm not sure why people are suddenly freaking out and pointing fingers at hot dogs.  Secondly, how is this even an issue?  Maybe if parents tried teaching their kids to take small bites instead of shoving a whole foot long down their throats, we wouldn't be having this discussion right now...I'm gonna have to stop right there.  Something about kids devouring foot longs is making me feel uncomfortable.

But hey, if wieners are going to be considered dangerous, I figure that other foods should get the same treatment.  Here are my "Top 5 Foods That Need Warning Labels Because Some People Lack Common Sense."

1) Doritos - Sharp edges may lead to unintentional stabbing.

2) Fruit Rollups - May cause suffocation if covering face.

3) Butter - When spread on floor, may cause slipping which may cause falling.

4) Frosted Flakes - If mixed with milk in a large enough bowl, may cause drowning.

5) Chocolate Chip Cookies - May contain nuts.  May also contain armed explosives.

P.S. - Spring Break is next week.  Woohooooo!

<3 Cam

Shutter Island Could Have Been the Best Movie Ever

THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS A SPOILER.

I love movies.  Seriously, I freaking enjoy the crap out of them.  When I saw that Martin Scorsese would be directing the new blockbuster Shutter Island and that Leonardo DiCaprio would be playing the leading man, I was a little super excited.  The trailer (which involved the creepiest balding woman I've ever seen shushing the camera...*shiver*) had me sold eveb before the MPAA general audiences warning had finished.  Recently though, a complete lack of free time has prevented me from making a trip to the theatre.  On the plus side, I figure it'll be less crowded after the initial throngs of viewers die down.  Anyway, my good friend (whom we will refer to as the Harbinger of Sadness) had seen the movie already and was telling me about how ridiculously awesome it was.  Her descriptions of "insane plot twists" and "@#%!ing crazy !@^&" just made me want to see Shutter Island even more.  Oh Harbinger of Sadness...you just had to rain on my parade.

By dropping a big old...

SPOILER.

Seriously?  You couldn't wait to talk about the ending until AFTER I'd seen the movie?  Did you see my face melt when you shared the news?  I know that you didn't mean it.  After all, you merely wanted me to join in on your excitement regarding the extremely complex plot of a really great movie...that I hadn't seen yet.  I just want you to know, oh Harbinger of Sadness, that when I finally do get to see Shutter Island, I'll be thinking of you.  After all, my mind will be free to wander about the theatre; there will be no piecing together clues or solving the mystery for myself because I already know...

HE WAS CRAZY THE WHOLE GOSH DARN TIME.

So let this be a lesson to us all:

When discussing a touchy topic such as...I don't know...the ending too a movie that I kind of desperately want to see, wait until I'm out of earshot folks.

And tell me, have you ever been a spoiler bomber?

Later guys!

Cam

Why I Kind of Hate TOMS

Ok, before I start let me get one thing straight: I promise I'm not a bad person.  Charity is a great thing, and I'm all for helping others.  However - the prospect of TOMS shoes makes me want to club an infant seal.  I first saw Tom, (my first assumption was that the brand was named after a person, but apparently that makes too much sense) whose real name is Blake Mycoskie on TV.  My retinas were burned with sad, impoverished children whose hopeful little hearts made mine break.  As the commercial plays, Blake descends like an angel from above bearing...shoes?  All right...I figure this could count as my good deed for the day, so I head to the online TOMS store and click on the "Mens" tab.  The first thing that caught my attention was the price tag.

"$68 FREAKING DOLLARS?  Seriously?"  To keep my eyes from twitching too much, I mutter to myself, "Do it for the little African children who really need shoes..."  After footing the bill, my conscience is lightened and I'm actually excited when the shoes arrive in the mail.  Unfortunately, my size nine feet didn't really match my new size nine shoes - at all.  "For the children Cam, for the children..."  After wearing them around town and having increasingly large numbers of people inquire about the strange slippers adorning my feet, the last shred of patience was wearing thin.  Then, on the way out of the grocery store, I managed to trip on the curb...AND RIP THE %@!& SHOE.  That's right kiddos, my big toe now sported a brand spanking new breezeway.  The shoes are just shoddily made - plain and simple.  I guess poor kids enjoy wearing shoes that last for no longer than 5 minutes.

After this epic fail, my rage extended to the company itself.  What were they thinking?  I imagine it was along the lines of: "Hey look.  Your country is facing a brutal civil war, an AIDS epidemic, and a good portion of its population is starving to death.  Have some craptastic shoes.  Excuse me while we go back to California and count the money we made off of the stupid indie kids who were dumb enough to pay for the same craptastic shoes."  I guess what I'm trying to say is this.  Shoes don't prevent AIDS.  Shoes don't feed hungry mouths.  Shoes don't stop bullets.  (But from what I saw in the commercial, shoes make kids better at soccer.)  While the whole foundation of TOMS shoes is built on good intentions, I think it's time to focus on some of the more pressing matters at hand.

With all of this being said, LET THE HATING OF ME BEGIN!
Much Love,
Cam

Oh, hello there...

To the three people that are reading this:

I don't know how you got here, but chances are you're in the wrong place.  Perhaps you were scouring the interwebs for a fantastic meatloaf recipe.  Maybe you were just looking for pr0n and clicked the wrong link.  Either way, this empty shell you have stumbled upon is actually a blog.  That's right folks, I've hopped aboard the trendy train and birthed a baby blog!  You're probably saying: "Awesome, now what?" and honestly, I haven't the faintest idea.  In the end I'll probably talk about what makes me laugh, cry, fume, or scratch my head in utter confusion.  What it all boils down to is that I'm gonna do my best to get this thing going, so stick with me for awhile; we'll see how it goes!

Until next time my children,

Cam