Kayaking down the James River!

    A week or so ago, my Dad, my Dad's friend and I went on a two day trip down the James in kayaks!  We had a great time, fishing, camping, and racing each other.  The total trip was 11 miles long, so we traveled 6 miles the first day and 5 the second.  We reached our "checkpoint" when we reached Big Island (an actual place-look it up!).
    I'm going to go more in depth in the next post, with the things we saw, what we ate, etc.  The main topic I'm going to talk about in this post, however, is rapids.
    The rapids on the James aren't as near as bad in other rivers.  But that does not mean you shouldn't pay attention.  If you're a beginner kayaker (like I am), this is the river for you.  However, I learned my lesson the hard way.
    You see,  I had just caught a fish (a total of two were caught on the entire trip. There was a lot of biting, but the darn fish would not stay on!), and I wasn't paying much attention to anything else.  Feeling invincible,  I went over the rapids without scanning the water, went over the rocks, filled my kayak with water, and had to float ashore to bail water out  (there were no casualties, except for losing my fishing pole and my clothes were all wet with no change of clothes!)  Only 10% of the rocks show up above the water.  I pushed myself into the water, ended up backward speeding down the river, hit more rocks, and had to go to shore to bail out water a SECOND time.  This was pretty annoying, considering the fact that we still have 5 miles to go and I don't have a fishing pole to fish with on a fishing trip.
    All in all, however, the trip was awesome.  I'm hoping we can go again next year (this is a yearly thing).  In my next post, I'll post some pics and all that good jazz!
   *All you wannabe pro kayakers---WATCH THE RAPIDS.  Don't end up like I did and lose you're fishing pole because you weren't paying attention!!!*
   As a side note: after that, I did pretty well going through rapids, and they were worse than the ones I crashed on.
#Learnin from mistakes
#Watch out for rocks

The Computer (Pt. 2)

OOLLY WOOLLY POMP UMP FIZZ!!!

     Oh, my.  That is the sort of thing that should stay in my head.  Sorry for the outburst.  Allow me to explain myself:
    You see, if you read The Computer (one of my earlier posts), you would find out that a verrry slow computer was put under my possession.  So slow that I was tempted to bring out my inner Hulk, flip my desk and obliterate my computer.  This all changed, however, when I had my birthday!  I got a brand new computer, so fast that I used it as a Nascar to win the Indy 500 (not really).  With my fast new computer, I am enjoying myself tremendously; playing video games, watching movies, and blogging.  I do school work on there too.  While it's not video games, I am now able to do a Google search without constant crashing (an interesting habit of my old computer).
  So there you have it;  My inner Hulk has been tamed, and I can fully use the power of the internet.

1-800 callers: Meet Ronald's Chicken farm

   An unfortunate fact of life for some people is 1-800 callers.  I seem to fall under this category.  I wouldn't mind one or two 1-800 people calling me.  Five minutes of my time won't make me go ballistic.  What makes me rage is when they come in swarms.  5 to 8 1-800 calls a day!  ARE YOU SERIOUS PEOPLE?!?!?

   I can't get things done when the phone starts ringing, and I have to get up and see who it is, only to find it's another 1-800 caller.  The other night I asked myself:  "What would be a logical solution for this mess?"  I came up with several answers:

1. Each time a 1-800 caller calls me, politely tell them to take me off of their calling lists
2. Ignore it
3. Turn phone volume down 
4. Yell "Howdy!  You have reached Ronald's Chicken farm!  Do ya like chickens, pardner?" into my phone                                                                                                                                                  

          (I am fairly certain there is no Ronald's Chicken Farm, but in case there is, I apologize)  

Now, after think hard about the solutions, I tried to think of ways they won't work:

1. It's not the same 1-800 caller each time, so It will make no difference.  Soon, another one will take their place.  Then another.  Then another...
2. Same as #1.  Will make no difference.  They will keep calling back, so I will eventually have to resort to a different option. 
3. What about all the other innocent people who aren't 1-800 callers and deserve my time?
4. Hmmm...                                                                                                                                       

(Just so you know, I have one of those old Verizon flip phones, so my options were limited)

  Number 4 was perfect!  If I was going to have to listen to my phone ring like crazy, let's at least enjoy the result!

   And so, I am now content with the 1-800 callers.  As I walk over to answer my phone, I can't help but think "prepare to talk to Ronald's Chicken farm."

"

The Computer

  For me, one of the greatest tests of my patience involves my father's old Microsoft computer.
  You see, my Dad gave it to me as a test of responsibility.  I'm still using it, so that's a pretty good sign!
   Anyway, whenever I log on, it runs fine.  However, when I open, close, or refresh applications or tabs, time just seems to stop.  Sometimes I wait patiently.  Other times, especially if I'm not doing anything very important on it, I'll just walk away grumbling.  These two actions only occur when I'm feeling patient or just in a very good mood.  Unfortunately, more often than not, I do not have the patience to deal with it.  I am sometimes tempted to flip the desk, Hulk style.  I ignore this temptation, but it gets pretty darn close.

The Popcorn Problem

   I have become slightly concerned with my inability to make popcorn.  Although we have the recipe and the popcorn seeds, we have to make and cook the popcorn ourselves.  Even though I follow the recipe EXACTLY, four outcomes seem to happen:

1. The popcorn gets burned
2. The bag AND the popcorn explode
3. A combination of the first two 
4. The popcorn barely gets cooked at all

   You're probably wondering why when the bag explodes, it doesn't burn.  Well, I manage to be watching the popcorn before it gets REALLY burned.  

   Anyway, I've done some experimenting, and have come to the conclusion that there appears to be a "magic" amount of seeds, a little over a third (no exact measurement for it) and a "magic" position the bag must lay in order to have decent popcorn.  Even then, not all of the seeds get popped.

   There is one other small let down.  I seem to be the only one of my family with this problem.  Rather than finding this situation embarrassing, I find it frustrating.  I mean, come on;  I want my popcorn, not a crusty, shriveled excuse for food.

The Pillsbury Dough Man

   Walmart is a decent place.  Cheap merchandise, a new grocery pick up station, and good location (for us anyway).

   One day however, we were driving home after finishing some errands, and I saw a disgusting sight.  An old man was standing beside his car.  WITHOUT A SHIRT ON.  He wasn't doing to well hiding himself.  Just kinda standing there, not getting into his car or doing much of anything at all.  His skin was very light, didn't seem to have much tan on him.  (With the windows up) I said the first thing that came to my mind:  "Look, and old man without a shirt on!"  My family got a kick out of it.  The I realized:  He looks a lot like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but older.  So, from that moment on, I refer to him as the "Pillsbury Dough Man."
   A word of advice for everyone reading this:  Keep all of you're clothes on in public.  Please.  It's understandable at a pool, or a mini football game at your house, but NOT at Walmart.

Bowling Made Awkward

   Not too long ago, my grandparents, dad, brothers and I decided to go bowling while my mother had a clothing party.  We all got our bowling shoes on after paying and headed for our lane.  When we got there, a large T.V presented our names and our scores (zero.  Duh.).  Here is what the roster looked like:  (Some of these are not the actual names posted, but I am keeping it this way for privacy.)

1. Grandpa
2. Dad
3. Brother
4. Other Brother
5. Cable

   Wait, WHAT???  Who on earth is Cable?!?!?!

   Apparently,  the people who worked at that particular bowling alley were either hard of hearing or just weren't paying attention.  They seemed to believe that Caleb was the same thing as Cable.  I mean, it's a tiny error, but who would name their kid Cable?

   For the rest of the time when we were there, whenever it was my turn, I could see the text on the bigscreen say:

                        YOU'RE UP, CABLE!

Average Origins

    This blog's origin comes from a few months ago when I started making little comics in my sketch pad.  These drawings were about me, whether I had come up with a brilliant idea or simply making a fool of myself.  However, I took lots of time to make all the other characters in my drawings.  Each character had distinct and unique details that made them original.  When it came to drawing me, I simply drew a stick figure.  The way I saw it,  I was completely average.  My actions define who I was.  If I was a "sporty person", it was because I was DOING something involving sports, not necessarily SAYING or LOOKING like I play or like sports.

   Back to the topic of other people.  Because I did not know them as much as I knew myself, I define them by their LOOKS.  Think of the word average as describing me. If someone passed by me, wearing stylish clothes, had lots of money in their pockets and had the most recent type of phone, they would be higher/better than average (me).  If I passed a person wearing a dirty tank top, having to use his phone for EVERYTHING, and is unable to do small problems alone, and he talks very slowly, we can then conclude that he is lower than average (me).

   I had the plot, characters, and setting all picked out, but I needed a name for this project.  I thought and thought for a good 15 minutes.  Just then, I heard the phone ring.  At that moment, I knew exactly what to call it:

                                                                  

                        THE AVERAGE CALLER