C'est votre anniversaire

Most of you are aware I keep a journal. Nothing too serious, its been three years since buying it and its only about 3/4 full. I'm a 'once a week' writer if I'm lucky, and unfortunately, that time typically comes during Sacrament Meeting.
And I'm afraid that should someone see me furiously writing in my journal during the special musical number, they'll get the wrong idea.

Happy BBirthday Jenny

Josh and I set the bar unreachably high last year.
Jenny's birthday song last year stretched mine and Josh's musical abilities pretty much to the limit.
So in lieu of a song that would have just been a disappointment (although during our brainstorming session Josh did suggest we parody 'California Gurls' while wearing daisy dukes)we decided to give each other the traditional 'one-pump BB gun birthday shot'.
Happy BBirthday Jenny.

I hate spinach

Evidently my fascination of goats originated early in my childhood. Perhaps this is at an early incarnation of the 'Baby Animal Birthday Party' that I would attend as an adult. (I can't being to imagine what parents would have thought about a college student wandering around a petting zoo alone, that's why I brought Janna and Jill, it turned me from 'deranged lunatic' to 'mild eccentric')
You can see Nicholle straining to keep a hold of me. Its a shame really, cause I'm about the perfect size to actually ride that guy.

Heaven must've programmed you

I've got my record player going pretty much non-stop.
Bad Bad Leroy Brown.
Go Your Own Way.
Homeward Bound.

Eating almonds, reading about war, and wondering what effect Josh Ritter could have on achieving world peace.

The highway is alive tonight

I've got a ten page paper due in three days. I've done more in less.
I had a coke for the first time in weeks. I feel like I should start listening to Bruce Springsteen.
And I still think about Crazy Bread when I'm not thinking about anything else.

Memo

Today I went to Wal-Mart to get my oil changed. (I know I know, every man should be able to change their own oil. Whatever.) As I handed the employee my keys he asked what I planned to do for the 30 or so minutes it would take to change the oil. I held up my shopping list and said, "No worries, I need to pick up a few things."
He tilted his head, looked at my list, and said, "Cute."

I forgot I had written my shopping list on my new post-it pad.

So thanks Jill for making me the laughing stock of the automotive section of Wal-Mart.
(Worth it. Although I've wasted more than a few just writing captions for the kitten.)

Midterms

I'm in the tempest of midterms again.
The tempest seems to be preceded by a flurry of papers.
Things suffer as a result. Blogging (sorry WiAC), eating, and sleeping.
But this lonely buffalo always suffers. It was us, the white man, that ruined this guys life. Remember that one scene from Dances with Wolves? With all the dead and wasted buffalo? That was us. The loneliness of the buffalo is on me now. Great....like my plate isn't full enough.