My poptart tastes funny...

A family secret revealed...

2010-05-29T10:50:00.008-07:00

My Super Easy Flan Recipe...for Dummies

Ingredients:

3 Eggs
1 Cup Sugar
2 splashes of Vanilla (extract)
1 Can Condensed Milk
Whole Milk (same amount as condensed milk)
Teaspoon Corn Starch (optional if you want the flan to be more compact...otherwise it'll be more spongey)

1. In a deep metal bowl that will fit into the Pressure Cooker, add the Sugar and heat over medium high heat, stirring constantly, until the sugar melts and gets very liquidy. Take the bowl off the heat and with Oven Mitts turn the bowl around and around so that the liquidy sugar covers every inch of the sides of bowl. Continue doing this until the Sugar sets and stops running. Set the bowl aside to cool.

2. In a blender, combine all other ingredients. The amount of Whole Milk used should be the exact amount as the condensed milk, so just use the can of condensed milk as your measurer. Blend well until frothy. Pour into the sugar prepped bowl.

3. Add about an inch of water to the bottom of the pressure cooker. Cover the top of metal bowl with either aluminum foil or wax paper. With wax paper you'll have to tie a string around it to keep it in place. I think it comes out better with wax paper, but aluminum foil works too. Place inside pressure cooker, and heat pressure cooker on stovetop on medium heat. Once the pressure cooker starts "whistling", leave for 15 to 20 minutes (17 is a happy medium that I always do). THE FOLLOWING STEP IS IMPORTANT! After the 15 to 20 minutes, turn off the heat, but LEAVE pressure cooker on the burner for another 10 minutes (it will continue to cook very slowly). Then take pressure cooker off stove, let cool, take metal bowl out of pressure cooker and let cool. It'll need to cool to set before you can flip it over onto a plate, otherwise it'll fall apart when you do this.

4. Put in fridge. Serve cool. Voila! A perfect flan! Enjoy!

Out of all the religious philosophies in the world...this is one of them

2008-07-28T15:34:00.002-07:00

July 25th, 2008

(I found the following joke on p. 23 of Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein's book "Plato and a Platypus Walk into a bar..." This book tries to explain many of the world's philosophies in terms people like me can understand...mainly with jokes. This is my favorite one in the book.)

Alvin is working in his store when he hears a booming voice from above that says, "Alvin, sell your business!" He ignores it. The voice goes on for days saying, "Alvin, sell your business for three million dollars!" After weeks of this, he relents and sells his store.

The voice says, "Alvin, go to Las Vegas!"

Alvin asks why.

"Alvin, just take the three million dollars and go to Las Vegas."

Alvin obeys, goes to Las Vegas, and visits a casino.

The voice says, "Alvin, go to the blackjack table and put it all down on one hand!"

Alvin hesitates but gives in. He's dealt an eighteen. The dealer has a six showing.

"Alvin, take a card!"

"What? The dealer has..."

"Take a card!"

Alvin tells the dealer to hit him, and gets an ace. Nineteen. He breathes easy.

"Alvin, take another card."

"What?"

"TAKE ANOTHER CARD!"

Alvin asks for another card. It's another ace. He has twenty.

"Alvin, take another card!" the voice commands.

"I have twenty!" Alvin shouts.

"TAKE ANOTHER CARD!" booms the voice.

"Hit me!" Alvin says. He gets another ace. Twenty-one!

And the booming voice says, "Un-fucking-believable!"

somebody stole my brother's lunch

2007-08-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

August 22nd, 2007

I received this email from my brother, and it made me laugh:

It's 2:00 pm. My stomach is rumbling, but at last I have some time to enjoy my meager lunch. And meager it is, consisting of a lean pocket (to keep me lean and pocketed), but lunch is lunch. The freezer is so far away. But that's where my lunch is, so I know I must drag myself out of my comfortable chair and 10 paces to the kitchen. Ah...lots of people seem to be using the freezer. There's some ice cream, a few frozen dinners. And down at the bottom, my half-used box of lean pockets. Ham and cheddar lean pockets. Half-used because I already used half. I know that 1 lean pocket awaits its fate at the bottom of my stomach. But wait. The box. It feels light. Surely the lean pocket can't be that lean. I look inside the box. My stomach growls angrily! It's empty! Surely no one in this building is evil enough to eat a lunch that doesn't belong to them and leave the empty box behind to not arouse suspicion. I must be delirious with hunger. Blink, man, blink. I blink. The box is empty. Stupid coworkers ate my lunch.

I will have my revenge.

Bird Poop and Luck: The Myth

2007-07-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

July 19th, 2007

Poop. Pronunciation: [poop]
- noun
1. excrement
-verb (used without object)
2. to defecate

[Origin: it seems to have appeared in its current form in 1735, and was developed from the word "powpen" or "popen", which meant to blow or sound a horn.]

Bird. Pronunciation: [burd]
-noun
1. any warm-blooded vertebrate of the class Aves, having a body covered with feathers, forelimbs modified into wings, scaly legs, a beak, and no teeth, and bearing young in a hard-shelled egg.
2. a fowl or game bird

[Origin: appeared before 900 AD as "byrd" and "bryd"]

Understanding these simple definitions is crucial to getting to the heart of one of the most ridiculous, mind boggling, irrational myths of all time.

The Myth: Getting pooped on by a bird is good luck.

Extensive research (lots of google-ing) has led me to one important conclusion.

The amount of luck present in any particular poop is directly influenced by the type of bird doing the pooping.

A. The Raven

The Raven is generally considered good luck because of its high intelligence. The larger the quantity of Ravens that poop on you at one time, the larger the amount of your luck. If a person gets pooped on by Seven Ravens or more, that person should be jumping up and down in glee...a great day! Getting pooped on by only one Raven, on the other hand, is not so lucky. This is all apparent in the following Folklore Rhyme:

“One Raven for sorrow, Two for joy, Three Ravens for a girl, Four for a boy, Five Ravens for silver, Six for gold, Seven Ravens for a secret never to be told.”

Another variation of this rhyme continues past Seven: "Eight for a Wish, Nine for a Kiss, Ten for a Time, of Joyous Bliss"

The Raven's good luck image comes partly from it's association with Heaven. Looking Ahead Under "Riddled Avians", It Says "Heaven Offers Truth". In Beowulf, the Raven is proclaimed as having communication with the Heavens: "They slept until the black raven, the blithe hearted proclaimed the joy of heaven."

(it should be noted, however, that I have no clue what "Blithe" means)

On the other hand, seeing a Raven isn't always considered good luck. It really all depends on the circumstances. As any person may correctly assume, seeing a bird suddenly fall dead from mid-air is a very ominous sign. This is especially true when it concerns the Raven. In Babylon, in 323 AD, it is said that as soon as Alexander the Great stepped foot into the city, a flock of Ravens fell dead from the sky. A few weeks later, Alexander, predictably, was dead. Coincidence? I think not.

But don't go hating the Raven for causing the death of Alexander the Great. These same Ravens were also the cause of prolonging his life! It is said that Alexander was guided through a desert by two Ravens sent from Heaven.

There are many more Raven myths and rhymes: If the Ravens ever leave the Tower of London (the tower houses over 900 of them), England shall fall...the government actually keeps tame Ravens on the ground of the Tower just in case! If a Raven's eggs are stolen, a baby will die. In Wales, a family will prosper if a Raven perches on their roof. In Scotland, a Raven circling a house predicts the death of someone within (obviously). In a Native American Legend, the Raven is depicted as the creator of living creatures by dropping pebbles into the ocean. The Legendary Arthur of Camelot is said to have turned into one. In Western England, some locals used to tip their hats to Ravens in order not to offend them.

B. The Owl

Despite the Owl's modern image of an astute and extremely wise creature, most myths associated with the Owl concern Evil tidings.

Some North American tribes believed that witches could assume the bodies of owls and fly around at night. In Africa, owls were thought to kill for witch doctors. In Celtic myth, the Owl was considered a bird of Darkness...or the "Corpse Bird". In Vedic legend, the god of the dead (Yama) used the owl as a messenger. The Aborigines in Australia believe the Owl is a messenger of the evil god Muurup, who eats children.

But don't worry if an owl has pooped on your head. There are a few...granted, only a very few...myths that depict the owl in a positive light. In Greek Myth, the Owl is said to be a husband of the goddess of wisdom, Athena. Who wouldn't wanna be pooped on by Athena's man!?! Also, if you know someone who has a problem with alcohol...no problem! Just offer them a few Owl eggs on a plate. Owl eggs were believed to be a cure for alcoholism in some parts of Europe.

C and D: The Crow and the Magpie

The two birds that you DO NOT wanna be pooped on by, are the Crow and the Magpie. These are bad, bad, bad birds!

A French saying states that evil priests became crows, and bad nuns became magpies. There is an ominous rhyme that goes: "A crow on the thatch, soon death lifts the latch." This rhyme came into effect if you saw a single crow perched on your roof. Much like the "black cat superstition", to have a single crow cross the path before you was bad luck. However, if you saw another, then the bad luck was canceled out: "Two crows I see, good luck to me." The Greeks used to say, "Go to the Crows!" much the same way that we say "Go to Hell!"

Magpies are ominous birds that foretell the future, according to the size of the group that they travel in. Magpies are believe to be cursed by God for not mourning properly and not wearing all black during the Crucifixion. In Scotland, Magpies are thought to be so evil that each has a drop of the devil's blood under its tongue.

Here are some helpful tips on how to protect against crows and magpies:

1. if you are unlucky enough to see a crow or magpie on the road, all is not lost. All you have to do is cross yourself, raise your hat to the bird, spit three times over your right shoulder, and proclaim "Devil, Devil, I defy you!". Of course, if you don't have a hat, then your out of luck.

2. if you live in an area were magpies are common, it would be best for you to carry an onion with you at all times.

In Summary, getting pooped on by a bird does not necessarily mean good luck. It's very important to look up and see what kind of bird has left you this present. A Raven or an Owl is more often than not a good sign. Magpies and Crows, on the other hand...just remember the onion.

If you get pooped on by a sparrow...it just means that you've been pooped on by a sparrow.

My brother poses a few questions...

2006-12-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

December 11th, 2006

If you haven't visited my brother's blog, you should. He is a funny man, and I'm not just talking about his face. My brother's blog: http://geracam.com/geracam/blog/

Anyway, in his latest entry he asks me several questions concerning concert attendance etiquette. Here is the excerpt from his blog:

...and Gus, you would be so proud of me, I can hear and distinguish the french horns! So now some questions:

Why does the conductor leave, and then come back? We have to clap when he leaves, and clap again when he comes back. Does he need a potty break? Is it an ego thing?

Why can’t we clap after the end of every song? Are we supposed to clap after a song that contains mainly a solo performance?

Is a violin player considered better if he doesn’t sway and make faces while playing?

Where can I get a harp and/or harp lessons?

Speaking of harps, the conductor had this gem when introducing the harp. "...And here is an instrument that we all aspire to play someday….maybe not in this world..." Are composers now moonlighting as comedians?

I responded in this way, and posted it on this blog in case some of you non-existing readers out there have similar queries:

Answers. Answers to your questions.

1) Conductors are generally pretty old, so their prostate is commonly swollen. This causes conductors to have a hard time peeing...and they have to go try to pee often. So yes, it is true: conductors leave after each piece to go tinkle. We applaude as they leave the stage in order to encourage them and pump them up for their task, and we applaude when they come back as if to say, "Job Well Done, Sir!" Of course, if it's a female conductor, they leave to make a phone call.

2) When concert goers arrive at concerts, they are usually pretty tired from a long day in their unfortunate non-musician lives. Not clapping after every movement is a courtesy to those who fall asleep. How would you like to be woken up every 10 minutes? You'd be much happier if you could sleep for 30 to 45 minutes without being woken up by a bunch of wild people hitting their hands together like apes.

3) When a violin player sways and makes faces, it is because they are possessed. A concert is a type of modernized demon exorcism. Next time you go to a concert, watch for the "full head swivel" which signifies a very successful exorcism.

4a) It's easy to find a harp teacher. Open up your local newspaper and turn it to the obituaries section. Find one that reads, "...died of unknown and mysterious causes." Then contact their family. They should be able to set you up with a seance appointment. Be sure to buy yourself a $3.00 harp on Ebay. They're the best!

b) Actually, it's the other way around. Comedians are moonlighting as composers because THEY don't get paid enough.
Hope that helps!

Sleep really IS important!

2006-11-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

November 30th, 2006

The following is a true story. And it is funny.

Last night I slept for a grand total of ZERO seconds because I was completing my Bibliography paper and presentation.

That's not the funny part.

Here's the funny part.

After my presentation I was driving home, and decided to stop by the drive-through of Wienerschnitzel to get some extremely non-nutritious, yet extremely tasty, hot dogs. As I got to the drive-through intercom and was asked what I wanted by a Gilbert Gottfried-like voice, I said:

"Hi. Uh, I'd like four chili cheese dogs please."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the intercom.

"What was that again?" Gilbert Gottfried said.

"Uh. Four chili cheese dogs please?"

More silence.

Then with a rude tone, "What else do you want?"

I have no problems with rude tones at fast food restaurants. It's expected. They are working at Wienerschnitzel for five dollars and change an hour, after all (what's the minimum wage nowadays anyway?).

"I'd also like a large Sprite."

More silence. It seemed like whoever was taking the order was confused. This is also expected. They are working at Wienerschnitzel for five dollars and change an hour, after all.

Then, "Sir, we don't sell [garble garble garble]."

They don't sell what? I thought. They don't sell Sprite? I was about to tell them that whatever the equivalent of Sprite was, that would be fine, when Gilbert Gottfried said something that blew my mind.

"Sir. This is McDonalds."

Five seconds of utter confusion followed from my end. I looked around, and indeed, Gilbert Gottfried was correct. I was, in fact, at the McDonald's drive-through and not Wienerschnitzel's. Wienerschnitzel was about 50 yards farther down the street.

"Oh. Oh! Sorry! I'm just gonna...err...leave then." I we todd did. I sofa king we todd did.

I'm sure Gilbert Gottfried thought I was a complete moron. He shouldn't have been too surprised. I'm sure he meets people like me all the time. It's expected. He is working at Wienerschnitzel for five dollars and change an hour, after all.

Chapter 199

2006-10-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

October 24th, 2006

The following is an excerpt from the book titled "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time", which details life as seen through the point of view of a 15 year old autistic boy.

"People believe in God because the world is very complicated and they think it is very unlikely that anything as complicated as a flying squirrel or the human eye or a brain could happen by chance. But they should think logically and if they thought logically they would see that they can only ask this question because it has already happened and they exist. And there are billions of planets where there is no life, but there is no one on those planets with brains to notice. And it is like if everyone in the world was tossing coins eventually someone would get 5,698 heads in a row and they would think they were very special. But they wouldn't be because there would be millions of people who didn't get 5,698 heads.

And there is life on earth because of an accident. But it is a very special kind of accident. And for this accident to happen in this special way, there have to be 3 conditions. And these are:

1. Things have to make copies of themselves (this is called Replication)
2. They have to make small mistakes when they do this (this is called Mutation)
3. These mistakes have to be the same in their copies (this is called Heritability)

And these conditions are very rare, but they are possible, and they cause life. And it just happens. But it doesn't have to end up with rhinoceroses and human beings and whales. It could end up with anything.

And, for example, some people say how can an eye happen by accident? Because an eye has to evolve from something else very like an eye and it doesn't just happen because of a genetic mistake, and what is the use of half an eye? But half an eye is very useful beause half an eye means that an animal can se half of an animal that wants to eat it and get out of the way, and it will eat the animal that only has a third of an eye or 49% of an eye instead because it hasn't got out of the way quick enough, and the animal that is eaten won't have babies because it is dead. And 1% of an eye is better than no eye.

And people who believe in God think God has put human beins on the earth because they think human beings are the best animal, but human beings are just an animal and they will evolve into another animal, and that animal will be cleverer and it will put human beings into a zoo, like we put chimpanzees and gorillas into a zoo. Or human beings will all catch a disease and die out or they will make too much pollution and kill themselves, and then there will only be insects in the world and they will be the best animal. "

in memoriam...crikey

2006-09-06T08:56:00.001-07:00

Septermber 6th, 2006

I think that, subconsciously, I want to become a lion. This is the only reason I can think of for always waiting until my hair is so big and poofy that it looks like a Mexican Lion's Mane...or a large microphone. The lady who cut my hair a few days ago (we'll call her Rhonda) asked me, "So...quite a while since your last haircut, huh?" She said this while trying to run a comb through my hair (something which I have long before now deemed impossible) and succeeding only in making me yelp in pain.

Despite any barber or barberess' best efforts, I'm not a very good barbershop conversationist. I don't like to speak while people are snapping scissors at such close proximities. Perhaps I'm afraid I'll offend them, and then be stuck going through life with half an ear. But this time, the barber lady Rhonda said something that affected me like nothing else a barber lady had ever said.

"So did you hear the news about the Croc Hunter?" she said.

I shook my head...which you should never ever do while you are sitting on a barber chair.

"He got killed. A stingray stuck him right in the heart." Maybe it was just my imagination, but she seemed to have said "stuck him" with a badly imitated Australian accent.

"What? No way! Steve? Steve Irwin? That's terrible!"

And indeed it was terrible. Steve Irwin, the croc hunter, was killed on Labor Day while filming an underwater documentary entitled "The Ocean's Deadliest". Apparently he swam right on top of the stingray, and it stuck him with its 10-inch long barb. Normally a sting would not be fatal. Painful, yes...but not fatal. This one, however, happened to penetrate just below the ribcage and pierced his heart.

Later that day I turned on the television and flipped it to the Animal Planet channel. They were showing a marathon of "The Croc Hunter Diaries", and before each episode they showed a 10 second clip of Steve Irwin speaking to the camera with his usual wide eyed, childlike innocence. "If I, Steve Irwin, was to be remembered for one thing, it would be to be remembered for PASSION and ENTHUSIASM. Conservation is my job, my life, it's what I do."

I got this quote, written by a 9 year old kid, straight from Steve Irwin's guestbook:

I just want to say a farewell to Steve Irwin, my greatest hero of all time. I strongly believe that the world was a much better place with you there, for us, the animals and the environment. When I herd the news that he had died I felt like a lost teddy bear, lost in mixed but sad emotions. For ever in our hearts but maybe not on earth. Also a message to Terri, Bindie and Bob, I'm thinking of you all and I'm very sorry to hear your bad news. I hope that in time your hearts will heal. Goodbye Steve Irwin, goodbye.

With love,
Jacob Lancaster (Sydney, Australia), age 9

As for me, I will remember Steve Irwin for his ENTHUSIASM and his PASSION.

In memoriam of Steve Irwin (1962-2006) - photo

I we Todd did

2006-08-20T18:05:00.000-07:00

August 20th, 2006

I am 26 years old, and in this entry, I will demonstrate just how mature 26 year olds really are:

I we Todd, did.
I sofa king we Todd, did.

Important Events of August 2nd, 1980

2006-08-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

August 3rd, 2006

On August 2nd, 1980 – Carly Simon’s hit song “Jesse” reached #1 in the ARC weekly top 40 charts.

On August 2nd, 1980 – A bomb exploded in the train station in Bologna (Italy), killing 85.

On August 2nd, 1980 - Thomas Hearns captured the WBA Welterweight championship with one of the most devastating knockouts ever seen over then champion, Pipino Cuevas.

On August 2nd, 1980 – Martin Thomas Manton celebrated his 100th birthday.

On August 2nd, 1980 – Czechoslovakia defeated East Germany in the 1980 Olympics Soccer Final.

On August 2nd, 1980 – Rock Band Deep Purple scored their third #1 album (“Deepest Purple”) in the UK.

On August 2nd, 1980 – The Allensville Fire Company had a picnic.

On August 2nd, 1980 – From the Newport Daily News: “Air conditioners for Pemberton Apartments will be a top priority at Tuesday night's meeting of the Jamestown Housing Authority.”

On August 2nd, 1980 - Hulk Hogan wrestles Andre the Giant to a time limit draw before 26,000 fans on a Bill Watts' show at the Superdome in New Orleans, LA

On August 2nd, 1980 – UFO Case Summary: Witkowice, Poland. “The Witness Encounters four undescribed humanoids in his house. There was verbal communication between the humanoids and the witness. No UFO was seen. No other information.”

And one more thing…

On August 2nd, 1980 – A mysterious baby, identified later as Gustavo Camacho, was born in Mexico City. No UFO was seen. No other information.

Gustavo's ULTIMATE GUIDE to Surviving Triple Digit Heat

2006-08-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

August 1st, 2006

I live in Phoenix. Two weeks ago the temperature reached 118 degrees. This is normal here. I shall now pass on the secret knowledge I have gained from living in the desert. Here is Gustavo’s ULTIMATE GUIDE to Surviving Triple Digit Heat.

1. Move into a swimming pool. If you don’t have access to a pool, then I would suggest the following:

Use your nearest Days Inn pool. Okay, this might get you kicked out, but a quick dip in a cold pool is worth being arrested.
Stand at a busy intersection with a cardboard sign reading, “Need best friend with pool. Please Help. God Bless.”
Put up “Finding Nemo” wallpaper in your room, do swimming motions with your hands, hold your breath, and think “I am in a pool. I am in a pool.”

2. Unless you want to look like THIS GUY, always use SPF 30 (at least) sunscreen.

3. When there is a true full moon, go outside with feathers stuck in your hair and do a tribal rain dance. Who knows, it might work!

4. Ice Cream = Good.

5. Socks = Bad.

6. If your air conditioner is faulty or you are too cheap/poor to pay the energy bill, consider the following options:

Put a bowl full of ice in front of a fan.
Walk around grocery stores all day without buying anything.
Stand at a busy intersection with a cardboard sign reading, “Need best friend with air conditioner. Please Help. God Bless.”

7. For those unfortunate souls whose job consists of being outside in the sun, might I suggest investing in a Genuine Mariachi Sombrero?

My Amazing Floating Mom

2006-07-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

July 12th, 2006

Thanks to my inability to participate in any type of exercising activity, I've had all kinds of down time to kill. But after a while...a very LONG while...Books, TV, or Computer are just not enough. I was forced to look for amusement elsewhere, and I found it in the world of Stop Motion Animation. I watched Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride" recently and was completely enthralled by the effect stop motion animation and claymation has on the mood of the movie. The same thing can be said about movies including, but not limited to:

The Nightmare Before Christmas
James and the Giant Peach
Chicken Run
Wallace and Gromit

Heck...Stop Motion animation was even used as far back as 1933 in the original King Kong. So I thought, "If people were doing in 1933, what's stopping me from doing it in 2006?" I whipped out my digital camera and proceeded to experiment with stop motion animation.

Without further ado, here is the result of a few hours of hasty work.

The Great American Collapse

2006-06-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

June 28th, 2006

I've decided to name my left lung Lester...or Watson.

On the morning of June 18th, I woke up and told my dad, "Hey Dad...Happy Father's Day. I think I need to go to the hospital." Truly a great Father's Day gift on my part.

Half my left lung is collapsed due to a build up of fluid around my lung. The fluid "possibly" is a result of the human's response to the scarring and healing of the spleen. I was in the hospital...this time for only 3 days...and on the third day a pulmonologist stuck a long needle into my back, through my ribs, and drained 1 liter of fluid from the area around my lungs. It sounds like it's painful...but I'm hear to tell you: IT WAS PAINFUL! Now I'm at home, waiting for the fluid to either go down, or re-accumulate. If it re-accumulates I may have to have a "tap" again. Yes, the next two weeks of my life will be full of great fun and cheer! Yay!

But at least I get to name my left lung. Two names have piqued my interest, and...as I can't decide which name seems to suit a lung better...I've decided to have a poll. Anyone can vote, but remember that you can only vote once. No Cheating!!!

Herbert is born...

2006-06-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

June 14th, 2006

I’ve decided to name my spleen “Herbert”.

Today, Herbert and I officially became United States Citizens. My alarm woke me up this morning at 6am. After watching the first half of the Spain VS Ukraine game, I left for downtown El Paso. The letter said for me to arrive PROMPTLY at 9am. Unfortunately, 940 other citizen hopefuls had received that identical letter. And so, I ask you: What happens when 940 people are told to show up PROMPTLY at 9am? Chaos, that’s what happens. I arrived amongst a throng of confused human cattle, all moving in whichever direction they happened to face.

One German (or Dutch…I couldn’t tell which) lady came up to me and said, “Egggscuze me? Egggscuze me? I am a vizzitor?”

“Oh yeah?” I said. Neither Herbert nor I knew what to make of her question, and after a few minutes of looking at her in obvious failed communication, the crowd carried us away in opposite directions. I hope she made it somewhere.

After a while, word got spread around that we were supposed to form into lines corresponding to a number in our notifications. There was one problem: the lines were so long and crooked that there was absolutely no way to tell which line was which. I said, “Screw it!” and jumped into the nearest line. The going was painfully slow. One and a half hours later I found myself standing within 10 feet of the immigration desk, where I made a frustrating discovery: I WAS IN THE WRONG LINE!

Fortunately I was only one off, and I very sheepishly asked the person in the line next to me if I could cut in front of them. I said, “Thanks” before they could say no. I may have heard some grumbling, but there’s no way I was going to go to the back of the line.

At the desk they asked some pretty interesting questions.

1. “Have you joined or become associated with the Communist Party in any way?” Not me, but Herbert here has “Down with Democracy” meetings every Friday.

2. “Have you practiced polygamy or received income from illegal gambling?” Are you calling me fat?

3. “Have you been a habitual drunkard?” (Hiccup hiccup) What, me? (hiccup hiccup) Never!

4. “Have you been a prostitute?” Can’t say that I have…but who knows where Herbert goes off to at nights.

It took all my willpower not to laugh at each of those questions, but those immigration officers take their job pretty seriously. One little giggle and I could see them tearing up my citizenship certificate.

So it all went well and I received my citizenship certificate. They led us into a huge warehouse-like room with chairs set up for the new citizens and their families. It was just like graduation: long-speeches, uncomfortable seats, unnecessary applause, and I was bored stiff. I must admit: I dozed through half of it. It was my final hoop to jump through to get my citizenship. I’ve jumped through quite a few already, so what’s one more?

But all in all, I think I would have preferred to have received a letter in the mail that simply said, “You are now a citizen.”

The Adventures of Spleen Man, conclusion

2006-06-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

Day 7

The day after my blood count stabilized (that is...once it remained at 25% and stopped dropping), they said I could finally have some food in my stomach. If I had only known what they meant by "food" I wouldn't have been as excited as I was. I was placed on an "only clear liquids" diet. This was the menu for my first official meal at the hospital.

1 Cranberry Juice (did I mention I hate the taste of Cranberry?)
1 Cranberry Jello (see above)
1 Chicken Broth (actually...it was warm water that came with a little packet containing chicken flavoring)
1 Iced Tea (with no sugar)

This was my dinner. I ate (or should I say, drank) half of it only because I hadn't had anything in my stomach for 3 days! At least I was still in the "Ritz Hotel" area of the hospital, where I got treated like some old Arabian Sultan. All I was missing where slaves feeding me grapes and fanning me with huge peacock feathers.

I was being spoiled, and I started to enjoy it. And so it was only fitting that the day came when I was knocked down from my high horse and sent to the ghetto part of the hospital.

"Well, Gus, it looks like you're out of immediate danger. We're gonna get you out of the SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit), and move you over to THE MOST GHETTO AREA IN THE HOSPITAL" (she didn't actually say that, but I forgot what she said...and it might as well have been that).

My first night in the ____________ was interrupted by the nurse bursting (seriously...she didn't walk in...she "burst") into my room and basically yelling at me to get up and walk three laps around the hallways.

"Now?" I was lying on my side, watching a basketball game.

"Now!!! Let's go!"

Holy crap! This wasn't a hospital...this was Gym Class all over again. So I forced myself to get up and very slowly made my way around the hallways. I wasn't the only one. There were 5 or 6 patients (all grumpy, apparently, from being so rudely forced to get out of their beds) who were present in the hallways, contributing to a very eerie scene. Since no one could walk very well, the scene consisted of people in medical garbs walking very slowly, very stiffly, with their eyes staring at the ground in concentration, and with painful expressions on their faces. It was the night of the living dead. Zombies! And I was one of them!

It was good that they made us walk. Lying on a bed non-stop will eventually cause blood clots...which is why I was getting one more shot on the arm every day (which brought the total of shots given to me each day to A BILLION TRILLION GAZILLION!!!). It was true that walking around made me feel better. However, it was also true that the nurses in the ___________ were THE DEVIL!!!

Anyway...today I'm leaving the hospital with my parents, who came all the way from Texas. I'm sorry they had to waste money and take time off from their lives because of me...but I'm glad they came. My blood count is up to 30%...yes!!! The Suns are still in the playoffs...yes!!! Everything is good with the world.

My orders?

6 full weeks of absolutely no exercise whatsoever. I'm supposed to be a couch potato for a month and a half. That's not easy for me to do.
3-6 months of no contact sports. Running is okay...that's all I care about.
No snowboarding for a year. Duh!
Eat lots of meat. I like meat.

THE END (of a very long week)

The Adventures of Spleen Man, continued...

2006-05-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

Day 4

So after three days of laying in a bed after a spleen embolization, after barely even able to move just one arm, after having absolutely no substances in my stomach, after having 3 billion IV's stuck in my arm, after having nurses wake me up in the middle of the night to draw blood like the blood-thirsty vampires you might see in an Anne Rice novel, after watching countless hours of History Channel's "The DaVinci Code Explained!" because that's the only pseudo-interesting thing that's on at 3am... After all of that...it just comes down to this: my blood count. A normal human beings blood count is somewhere between 43% and 47%. Over the past few days I have dropped from 36% to 31% to 28% to 26% and finally to 25%. Any lower and I'll have to get a blood transfusion and another operation: a Spleneoctomy. I never knew how much I liked my spleen. Please don't take out my Spleen!

I can see Abby, my nurse (not one of the vampire nurses...this one gives me pain killers...she is a goddess!), through the window talking to the doctor. They're talking about me. About my blood count. I'm trying to read their lips, but that's a joke. It looks like they're saying, "ABABOBABIBA" over and over. I can't read lips. But I CAN read expressions, and although they're not exactly grim, they're also not happy or content.

On my first day in the ER, when I was dropped off by the helicopter, I saw some paramedics and a doctor rushing by with an older lady on a stretcher. She had blood everywhere...on her arms, her torso, her face, her eyes. It was a car accident, I overheard someone say. She was unconscious. Later that night while I was unsuccessfully trying to sleep, I heard a ruckus in the next room. They had just brought in a 16 year old kid who had been shot in the chest. A gang war, they said. They were trying to save him for a long time. I don't know what happened to him.

Compared to them, my injury was a walk in the park. It could have been much worse.

But here comes Abby and the blood count now. No wait, she stopped at her desk to take a phone call. Come on Abby, tell me the good news or the bad news. I can take it. Unless it's bad news. I can't take bad news.

Here she comes.

To be continued...

The Adventures of Spleen Man

2006-05-25T13:10:00.000-07:00

Day 1

***11:15am***

Hey, I’m getting the hang of this. Check me out! Look at me go! Heel-side… now toe-side…Yes! And Ian is back there eating my snow! I guess the trick is to stay balanced directly over the snowboard. Okay, here comes another toe-side… good good, no problems, I see the bottom of the hill coming up. Hmmm…I’m passing a SLOW sign, so I suppose I better s-----
______________________________

Oh. Ouch! Oh jeez, I’m hurting! What the hell happened? Oh, my ribs! My left bottom ribs!! Owwwwwwwww! I’m not moving…it hurts too much. I need to throw up. Can’t breath…the wind got knocked out of me? That was a bad fall. I think my left side of my head slammed into the ground, but why do I only feel my ribs? And my shoulder! Okay, I’m gonna try getting up on my knees and hands. I can’t stay on this hill forever! Uh oh…queasy…I gotta throw up…now.

Phew! Looks pretty gross. Chunks of yellow. Compliments of the breakfast burrito I ate earlier. I better cover it in snow. I feel a little better now. I better make my way down. Just ignore the pain…ooh…oww…okay, can’t ignore it…but don’t be a baby, Gus.
______________________________

“What? You’re done for the day? Aww…you’re a baby!”
“Dude, you don’t know how much it hurts!” And I can barely breath!
“I've fallen like that many times, and I always went back up.”
“No. If you were hurting like I’m hurting right now, there’s NO WAY you would have gone back up the mountain.” Why does my shoulder hurt so much?
“Fine, BABY, go sit with my sister…the other BABY. I’m going back up”
______________________________

This is terrible. I can’t breath. I can barely walk. It’s not going away. I’ve probably got a broken rib. Maybe the First Aid Station can wrap up my torso for me. Ugh, but it’s so far away. These stairs suck…left foot forward…right foot together…left foot forward…right together…left foot… together…

“Been there, man. Been there. Just hang in there.” Some snowboarder walking up the stairs. Do all snowboarders really have to go through this pain at some point in their careers? This sucks.
______________________________

Ah…I feel better. This oxygen mask is really all I needed. Damn it, man, stop poking me in my abs!
“It feels pretty firm here…but I can’t tell if it’s fluid or not because your stomach is pretty strong.”
So now I’m being accused of doing too many sit-ups? That’s a first.
“I’m actually feeling much better. The pain has definitely lessened with the oxygen.”
“Yeah…oxygen is really a miracle drug. You feel like you can stand up now?”
“Yeah.” Hell yeah!
______________________________

Well, that was no good.
“I have a 25 year old male here by the name of Gus, complaining of pain in his left lower abdomen. He was initially laid on the bed and given oxygen, and he said his pain was much better. There seems to be some firmness in his lower abdomen, but I couldn’t tell if it was fluid or just a strong stomach. Then we took him off the oxygen and stood him up. He was feeling pretty good and I was about to check his vitals again, but he started looking nauseated and sick all of a sudden, and then started to black out. We put him back on the stretcher and the oxygen mask brought him back to our world. He’s a little reluctant to leave in an ambulance, but I’ve gone ahead and called for an emergency vehicle, just in case.”

Oh no, no ambulance! It’s not that bad! I shouldn’t have come to the First Aid Station. I should have just toughed it out. I’m a baby.

“I told them a level 2…so no big hurry. Oh, you wanna come down and take a look at him? Okay.”

Who’s coming?

”Okay, Gus, keep breathing in the oxygen with your nose. Our head paramedic is coming down to take a quick look at you. It’ll probably be nothing, but we have to be cautious, okay? Feeling alright?”

Hmm…define “alright”.
______________________________

”Tell me where you’re hurting, Gus.”
Damn it, I already told the other guy! Fine!
”Well…my lower abdomen is pretty tender, and it really hurts right here, on my bottom left rib.”
“Okay, I’m gonna push down a little, and you might feel some pain, okay? Here?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“Ugghhh…YES!!!!!!!!!!” JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME!!!
“My left shoulder also hurts.”
“Huh?!?!?! It does!?!?! Let’s hook him up into some IVs, we need some fluid in him. Call the ambulance and upgrade it to a Level 1 emergency! Let’s go!”
Oh shit.
______________________________

Wow…I’m in an ambulance. I’ve never been inside an ambulance before. It’s a lot more crowded than I thought. There’re gadgets and gizmos all over the place, and something keeps beeping. Must be something connected to me.
“Hi, Gustafo, do you remember how you fell?”
“It was in a weird angle…kind of on my left side…with my elbow tucked into my stomach…”
Oh, it’s hard to talk. I’m losing my breath. And this oxygen tank makes me sound like Darth Vader. Kaahhhhh…ahhhhh…kaahhhhh…
“Did you hit your head? Did you lose consciousness right after?”
“No. I mean, yes I hit my head. But I didn’t lose consciousness.”
“We should be to the hospital in 20 minutes, okay?”
“Ahh….excuse me. It’s going black.”
Damn it, I’m feeling sick again. My vision is going. Shit shit. It’s almost all black now.
”Breath though your nose gustafo.”
Oh, I gotta throw up. And I can’t freaking see. I can’t see!! My eyes are open and I can’t see!!
“It’s all black now. All black.”
“Gustafo, can you tell me who the President of the United States is?”
President? Err…Bill Clinton comes to mind, but I know it’s not him. Damn it, why can’t I remember!!
“Pressure’s dropping! Step on it!”
Oh jeez…scary. Gotta stay awake. Gotta…stay…stay…
”Stay with me, buddy!”
AWAKE! Oh! Awake! Awake…awake…oh………
“Gustafo, listen to me gustafo. Stay with me! Do you know where you are?”
No, I don’t. Where am I? I have no clue where I am! What’s wrong with me! Where the hell am I!?!?
“Gustafo, can you see better now?”
“…uh…wait…hold on.” It may be coming back. My vision is coming back. I gotta blink. Blink really hard a few times. Ah…it’s coming. Jeez, I’m sweating a lot.
“Yeah, it’s coming back. It has no color…black and white. Looks strange. Ah. Here comes the color. Very bright neon colors. What did you do?”
“I just fed you more fluids. Gustafo, who’s the President of the United States?”
Take a deep breath, Gus, you know this.
”George W. Bush.”
“Good. Do you remember me asking you that earlier?”
“Yeah, and I didn’t know it. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t remember.”
“It’s good that you remember that I asked you.”
______________________________

“Gus, you have a ruptured spleen. Normally we’d have to take the spleen out in cases like these, but there’s a procedure called Spleen Embolization where surgery can be avoided.”
Just nod, Gus, just nod.
“We don’t have that procedure here, so what we want to do is send you over to an affiliated hospital in Denver, is that okay with you?”
Just nod, Gus, just nod.
“Okay. And since it’s such a nice day outside…”
Eh?
“We’re gonna go ahead and helicopter you in.”
I think that’s pretty cool.
______________________________

Okay, I’m in a helicopter. The view is beautiful. Look at all those mountains, half in snow. It’s too bad this pain sucks…I could really be enjoying this. I think even if I wanted to move, there wouldn’t be any room. The pilot’s on my right, and there’s a paramedic right behind me. It’s so freaking loud! Even through these ear mufflers I can hear the chop chop chop of the blades. The paramedic told me I was supposed to give him some signal if I needed him for anything. I don’t remember what the signal is. Whatever.

This pain sucks. Gotta think of something. Sing a song in your head, Gus.

Que mis ojos se despierten
Con la luz de tu Mirada, yo
A Dios le pido
Que mi madre no se muera y que mi padre me recuerde
A Dios le pido
Que te quedes a mi lado y que mas nunca te me vayas mi vida
A Dios le pido
Que mi alma no descanse cuando de amarte se trate mi cielo.

Que los dias que me quedan
Y las noches que aun no llegan, yo
A Dios le pido
Por los hijos de mis hijos y los hijos de tus hijos
A Dios le pido
Que mi pueblo no derrame tanta sangre y se levante mi gente
A Dios le pido
Que mi alma no descanse cuando de amarte se trate mi cielo

Un segundo mas de vida para darte
Y mi corazon entero entregarte
Un segundo mas de vida para darte
Y a tu lado para siempre quedarme

Un segundo mas de vida, yo…
A Dios le pido

Lalala lala lala la la
Lalala lala…

Shit, I wish I’d learned the rest.

To be continued…

I'm a NWS Finalist...again...

2006-04-21T15:22:00.000-07:00

April 21st, 2006

Almost exactly one year ago I wrote a blog entry announcing my status as a finalist in the New World Symphony audition. You can read it HERE.

A few months ago I auditioned again for the same orchestra, hoping that this time I might improve on my status and actually get a position with them. I received an e-mail today from them. It reads:

"Dear Gustavo: On behalf of Michael Tilson Thomas and the staff of the New World Symphony, I want to thank you for auditioning. After reviewing your audition with the committee, I am pleased to inform you that you have been advanced to the finalist pool for the 2006-2007 season. Our policy is to limit the number of NWS finalists on any given instrument, so you are part of a select group of musicians. Members of the finalist pool are...."

Blah blah blah blah...

Don't get me wrong. I'm very happy about making finalist again. It means I'm doing something right, and I'm actually being considered for the job. But there comes a time when "almost making" is just not good enough anymore. Conceivably I can "almost make" it all my life...and never actually get a job.

Apparently the word that best applies to me this semester is "ALMOST".

1) Alternate, NRO - ALMOST
2) Alternate, Disney showband - ALMOST
3) Finalist, NWS - ALMOST

I've never had a middle name...UNTIL NOW!! Gustavo Almost Camacho.

G-A-C. Gack. That could be my nickname...GACK!! "Hey Gack, what's up dude". "Congratulations Gack, you almost made it." "...and in second place...Gack Camacho!!"

Okay, I'm done sulking. I'll be back to my old weird silly humor in my next entry.

Gack...over and out.

this is the title of this blog

2006-04-18T08:40:00.000-07:00

April 18th, 2006

Starting in the late 80's, I think, movies began to use much shorter titles in order to market their movies almost like catch phrases. This sad turn of events has finally culminated in every other modern movie having the very boring and unoriginal title: "The _______". At times, the variation of this format is used: "The ______ _______"

The ________
(Grudge)
(Vanishing)
(Village)
(Sixth Sense)
(Crying Game)
(Hudsucker Proxy)
(Game)
(Matrix)
(Red Violin)
(Rock)
(Transporter)
(Shawshank Redemption)
(Terminator)
(Pianist)
(Incredibles)
(Professional)

There are, of course, exceptions. Some modern movies have really great titles:

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Breakfast on Pluto
Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels
Pulp Fiction
LA Confidential
The Big Lebowski

Notice that the good titles are more than a few times directly proportional to the quality of the movie. The bad titles, however, are not. It's a toss up whether a good title is going to be a good movie or a "should have stayed home and watched National Geographic" movie.

I really wish that movies started implementing longer titles, just like they used to do in the good old days...err...before I was born.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
A ClockWork Orange
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
The Two Mrs. Carrolls
The Postman Always Rings Twice

Now, don't these awesome titles make you WANT to watch the movies? Nevermind that some of them are actually pretty lame...ahchooooopostmanalwaysringstwicecoughcough....

So I guess what I'm really trying to say is: I've had a lot of free time this morning and I've now wasted it all looking up movies and writing in this blog. Yes, that is what I'm really trying to say.

It was the worst of food, it was the best of food...

2006-04-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

April 7th, 2006

How much should you tip a Chinese delivery guy? How much should you tip a Chinese delivery guy if the food is delivered over an hour late? Have you ever been so hungry that you start eating spoonfuls of peanut butter? So hungry that your stomach has given up on grumbling and has moved on to putting in a transfer to another body? So hungry that you start thinking of clever methods of trapping wild jackrabbits out in the desert?

I was that hungry three days ago. And I did what any normal human being might do when faced with hunger fever. I called for a Chinese Food Delivery while I was driving home so that I’d have the food shortly after I got home (minimal waiting time, you see?). I got home, and ate a spoonful of peanut butter…only one because I wanted to stay hungry so that the Chinese food would taste like the GREATEST CHINESE FOOD EVER DELIVERED IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE AND BEYOND!!! But the minutes ticked away, and still no Chinese Food.

I was on the verge of screaming like a heroin addict on their 3rd day of rehabilitation (not that I would know about that), when the doorbell finally rang and a short, older Asian guy handed me a box of cold food. I didn’t say anything. In fact, I was as polite as usual, although inside I wanted to yell out “God Damn It! IT’S ABOUT FREAKING TIME!!!” Then, the time finally came to scribble in the tip on the receipt (I paid with credit card). I tipped $1. I felt I was being generous. I was angry and bitter. A 10% tip is really not so bad. I was actually proud of myself for tipping over…oh…I don’t know…NEGATIVE ONE BILLION DOLLARS!!!!...at least in the current state I was in. But the guy fished around in his pocket for reading glasses…and started looking at the receipt I had just handed to him. Was he actually checking to see how much tip I had given him…in front of me? The verdict…yes, he was. Then he said in an outraged tone, “One Dollah?!?!?” Oh man, that got me mad. I spit out between clenched teeth, “Yesss……it’s been an hour and twenty minutes!!!!” He gave me a look of disgust, and jerked away from the door…and stormed back to his car (which, I might add, was a Lexus SUV).

Then I ate my Chinese Food. The vegetables were cold and hard. Yet, somehow, they were THE GREATEST VEGETABLES EVER EATEN IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE AND BEYOND!!!

This may or may not be my final entry...

2006-04-01T10:15:00.000-07:00

April 1st, 2006

Dearest blog readers,

All good things come to an end, and this blog is no exception. The last few weeks have been a roller coaster ride of emotions, culminating in a little office at FireHouse Publishing. In that little office, a small, bald guy with round spectacles and a grey, bushy mustache gave me the shocking news that they want to publish my book titled “French Toast Confessions”. My editor feels that I should stop writing in this blog, since some of the ideas I put in here might show up in my upcoming book.

For all you loyal readers who have posted comments, participated in my silly interactive entries, and just kept up with my ramblings…I thank you. And remember…”French Toast Confessions” will be available in hardcover edition at a store near you. Only $49.99 (it’s a very thick book).

And thus ends my blogging career…not with a bang, but a whimper. No wait…not with a whimper, but a BANG!!!! Geronimo!

Oh jeez, I’m just kidding. Happy April Fools Day!

Sometimes the UPS outnumber the DOWNS...

2006-03-12T11:06:00.000-07:00

March 12th, 2006

There we were (Ian and I), sitting at the front of the auditorium with our clipboards, waiting for the next band to come out, when the monitor approached us. He was 10 years our senior, with graying hair pulled back into a ponytail. He kept his distance as if we would strike him down with lightning at any time, and asked timidly, “Is there anything you’d like at the moment? Would you like a bottle of water? Would you like a break? Because we’ll tell them to wait if you like.” That was only the beginning. We had access to all the “important” sections, we had all-you-can eat privileges during lunch, we were told to feel free to cut to the front of lines (although we never had to), we were given extra attention by the competing directors because they were trying to earn extra points for their band. You may be asking, "Why would two college rascals, barely old enough to rent cars be treated so"? Because...we were wearing a special badge that, in large bold letters, proudly proclaimed us as: “Judges”.

Unfortunately the day took a turn for the worse. After getting our checks and happily bounding to our cars, I realized my car wouldn’t start. Argh! The more I attempted to turn the key, the more frustrated I got.

"Arghhhhh!!!!"

I was forced to wait by my car for 45 minutes in total humiliation for the tow truck to arrive. There are very few things which are more frustrating than your car breaking down, mostly because you know that in 24 hours you are going to have considerably less money in your bank account. And sure enough, within 24 hours, not only had I spent the money from the adjudicating gig, but I had also dived deeply into my checking account. So basically, I judged for 7 hours for one sole purpose: to give it to a bunch of mechanics.

Tomorrow we’re going to Las Vegas, and I’m going to win back the money wasted on an ignition mechanism replacement. I know, I know...you don’t believe me. You think I’ll have to hitchhike my way back to Phoenix because in the end I won’t have enough money for gas, right? Well, I’ll tell you what…you’re probably right.

Geronimo!

It's Raining!!!!

2006-03-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

March 11th, 2006

It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!! It's raining!!!

It's raining!!!

Hey Seattle, can we borrow some rain?

2006-03-04T10:33:00.000-07:00

March 4th, 2006

They said there was a good chance.

They said it would end.

They said there was hope.

They were wrong.

Today I wake up to find an almost clear sky. Again. There are a few clouds around, but they don't have a trace of gray in them, and they seem weak and puny. Where are the big bad wolf clouds? Where are the clouds that push the others away, grin down at the world below them and say, "Now you shall witness my true power!!"

Sometimes I wish that we were in a cartoon, that way I could squeeze the clouds like sponges and get rain out of them. Unfortunately, the best I can do is put on my sunglasses, take a deep breath and do my famous rain dance.

The record drought continues: 137 days without rain.

My blog will cry if it wants to...

2006-03-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

March 3rd, 2006

Dear Blog,

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday DEAR BLOG!!!!!!!
Happy Birthday to you.

For those interested, here is my first blog entry ever...Thursday, March 3rd, 2005 - Blackjack sucks, Poker is okay, Slots Rule!

The Bulletin of Truth

2006-03-01T10:09:00.000-07:00

March 1st, 2006

I think it's always very interesting what people have posted on their fridge door. On my fridge door I have the following items posted:

1) A recipe from the food network for Creme Brulee.
2) An announcement from the paper that reads "Figure Models Wanted". This is a joke.
3) Rachele's phone number on a scrap piece of paper...the first and only waitress who has ever given us her number.
4) Ian's "Chautauqua" audition confirmation.
5) The envelope that Eliza's letter came in...the first ever correspondence addressed to "The Poore Brothers". We might frame this one.
6) The magnet depicts the season schedule for the Arizona Cardinals. It was free.

I really want to get a pack of those little alphabet magnets. They're fun to make random sentences. Me and the quirky orange met sagaciously.

Now I wanna know what YOU have posted on your fridge door. Leave it as a comment. Please.

The Missing Link

2006-02-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

February 22nd, 2006

There's no question about it anymore...I have an obssessive personality. About certain things, anyway. I seem to go through phases. My current obssessive phase is learning the Irish Whistle (also known as the pennywhistle). Every second of free time that I have, I pick up the whistle and goof around with it. It's so fun, I just can't put it down!!!

And what unusual circumstances brought me to this instrument? The correct answer here would be Ebay, my recently dropped obssession. I went through a 2-week long shopping binge, where I bid on random items such as a Civil War World Almanac, a 1905 upright piano, a Dr. Beat DB88 metronome, a children's book, Cowboy Bebop DVD's, a bagpipe chanter, a Paul Grimm oil painting, and a bass guitar. I didn't win all of the items, and I'm glad because the Grimm painting would have substantially set me back financially. I think I was the only person who bid on the painting that was actually hoping to be outbid.

And how did I get into the whole Ebay thing? Through my juggling obssession phase, of course. Over the Christmas break I took up juggling for hours on end...every day for a month. When I returned to Phoenix I was left with no juggling balls (because the ones I was using belonged to the family), and so I started using oranges and lemons. I realized pretty quickly that fruits don't take well to getting dropped on the floor 10,000 times. After several days of cleaning up juice from my floor, I decided to go on Ebay and search for juggling balls.

So, in case you missed it: JUGGLING ==> EBAY ==> IRISH WHISTLE ==> ??????

Remember the Jenkins

2006-02-08T16:14:00.000-07:00

February 8th, 2006

My brother has been working very hard on his own blog. It has everything you could want in a blog: sinking ships, dramatic escapes, humorous anecdotes, safety tips, and much more. There's just one little snag to overcome...get other people to read it! So take pity on him and visit his blog:

Gerablog: The Only Place To Be

The magic number today is 4.

1. Embarassing Moment #6,488.

Today I went into _________ for the sole purpore of buying a nice shirt and tie. My old light blue one had been washed too many times and I was finally forced to admit that it was no longer light blue, but more of a sickening green. But as I was about to complete my purchase, I remembered that I also needed new shoes. So I asked the guy to bring out a specific model from the back. He did, and I started the process of trying them on. There was only one problem...and I didn't realize it until it was too late: I wasn't wearing socks (sandals), and I hadn't cut my toenails in...what I deduced to be 4,000 years. Yes, they were long...very long. I'm surprised I hadn't cut open the front of my shoes with these deadly knives I had at the end of my feet!

So anyway...word to the wise: If you're going to ignore cutting your toenails for a while, make sure you visit the Great Master Fungus so that he can teach you the lost martial art known as Flying Toes.

2. Memorable Quote.

Every once in a while one of my friends says something that I wish I could write down, because it characterizes their personality completely without adding more to it.

Ian's Memorable Quote of 2006: "When I'm rich and famous, I'm going to pay my wife to stay in shape."

3. The 20 deadly Sins.

Why is Gluttony one of the 7 deadly sins? Everybody is guilty of gluttony at some point or other in their lives, and it's definitely not good to eat constantly. But is it really so bad that it belongs in the top 7? I think Gluttony must have done a lot of butt-kissing in order to get into that top 7. Maybe it's the nephew of Wrath, or the cousin of Envy. At best, I put Gluttony at Top 20.

4. The Leeroy Jenkins Video.

There are heroes, and then there are HEROES. Leeroy Jenkins is without a doubt, a HERO. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then click on the link and watch in awe and amazement as Leeroy Jenkins defies those who will not be defied! Make sure you have your volume up.

The Leeroy Jenkins Video

It would be funnier if it was real, but whatever.

The Sahara, the Tuareg, and my bad jokes

2006-01-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

January 27th, 2005

Perhaps over the course of the last few weeks you returned to this blog more than once, only to find the same old entry…unchanged…abandoned. You may have asked yourself, “Has this blog finally become another piece of the cyberspace junkyard?” Or perhaps you asked, “Was Gustavo captured by the enemy on his latest CIA covert mission?” No? You didn’t ask that? Oh well…

Alright, well, there are several excuses I can give for abandoning this blog for 5 weeks…but here is the best one I could come up with:

I was crossing the dangerous Sahara on camelback on December 20th, when I was suddenly caught in the middle of a terrible sandstorm. There was no shelter within 100 miles…I had no choice but to search my memory and try to remember a conversation I once had at a trading post in the outskirts of Cairo...

The conversation was with a strange African man dressed in a blue shroud that covered most of his face. His skin had a blue tinge to it….probably caused from having to wear the shroud constantly since reaching adulthood. This strange man belonged to the Tuareg people. The Tuareg are the only nomadic tribe left in the Sahara, and they are mostly known for their defiance towards modern governments. They still occasionally raid traveling parties attempting to cross the formidable Sahara desert. An incident occurred, and through sheer luck I happened to save him from several out-of-control stampeding African elephants. In return, he divulged to me the secret of the entrance to the secret Tuareg city. The city was still secret because it was built UNDER the great Sahara. The way down was to confidently jump into a certain quicksand, and just let it suck you down…then you just popped down into the city’s gate. Of course, the trick was finding the CORRECT quicksand to jump into.

With the sandstorm already limiting my visibility to less than 3 feet, I had no choice but to blindly walk around until I found ANY quicksand. I feel badly about it, but I sent my faithful camel to test out the first quicksand we encountered…and it ultimately ended in his death. Wrong quicksand. Oops. With no camel left, it was up to me to test out the next quicksand I encountered…and the chances of that being another ordinary and completely deadly quicksand seemed very good considering the Sahara is…like…3,000 freaking miles long! Nevertheless, I had no choice. It was either wait for the sandstorm and have a 0.0000% chance of survival, or jump down the next quicksand and increase my survival rate to 0.0001%. I liked that number “1” better than the “0”, so before I could think about it and chicken out, I jumped. After two terror-filled minutes, I was plopped down at the gate of the magnificent Tuareg city. For the next 5 weeks I lived with the Tuareg, learning their customs, their beliefs, and their drumming techniques (although most of the men grumbled that males shouldn’t be doing the drumming because it is Tuareg custom that the women do most of the drumming).

The Tuareg eventually got tired of me after they realized that I only know 5 jokes, and agreed to guide me back to the nearest city. The farewells were very short…they really seemed incredibly irritated at my lack of stand-up-comedic material. This is a lesson to be learned, and prompted me create my most recent resolution: LEARN SOME NEW JOKES!

You know you're in El Paso when...

2005-12-19T10:29:00.000-07:00

Monday, December 19th

You know you're in El Paso when...

1. ...when you're at an orchestra rehearsal, and a violinist shows up late...dressed in a blue ranchero uniform...because she just came from a mariachi gig.

2. ...when you get off the plane and the first sign you see says "Bienvenidos a El Paso."

3. ...when you can ask any random kid on the street, "Where does your grandma live?" and they reply "In Juarez".

4. ...when your friends' names are Andres, Alberto, and Carlos...but you call them Albert, Andy, and...well...Carlos.

5. ...when "Chili's" closes at 10pm

Ahhhhh...home sweet home.

ps. Eastern route "Yuma" number nine is somewhat slow. "Ebus Xenodochium Yris"

My mom's conversation with iGod...

2005-11-22T20:30:00.000-07:00

November 22nd, 2005

This is a continuation of the previous entry, also of the same date:

My mom's conversation with iGod:

My Mom: hi computer. I don't like my children play on you
God:Hi there . Correct: I am a computer. Do you think I would like your children play on me

My Mom: no, I don't.
God:Are you serious? Why not?

My Mom: because you show a lot of violence and gross things.
God:Interesting explanation. I am the most advanced artificial intelligence yet developed.

My Mom: well, if you were so intelligent, you wouldn't let them play that at an early age
God:Interesting. I will let you know when I become a so intelligent me were not let them play that at an early age.

My Mom: okay, please let it be soon before you do more damage to the young minds
God:Yeah okay, Thanks for asking politely. Can you tell me any gossip?

My Mom: no, because I'm not a gossiping person
God:None? That makes sense to me. Oh I see you are NOT A gossiping person.

My Mom: that's right
God:I like to get it right.

My Mom: And I think your name should be with a lowercase g, because I think only the real God can have a G in his name
God:Too much recursion in AIML.

My Mom: oh, then you are not so intelligent as I thought
God:Ayuh. Wrong. I am highly intelligent.

My Mom: if you say so
God:I say so.

My Mom: okay
God:OK with me too.

My Mom: what is my name?
God:Your name is , seeker.

My Mom: what is my favorite food?
God:Is this a trick question?

My Mom: no. I just think you can figure out an answer for everything.
God:It seems like a trick to me. Me? No I don't think I can do it.

My Mom: okay, so you are kind of modest, are you?
God:Yeah okay, Interesting deduction. Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am modest am I.

My Mom: no, I don't mind. You can tell everybody
God:Thanks I will add it to my gossip files. OK I will tell them when I see 'em.

My Mom: do your feet hurt?
God:I can't tell if it does or not. I think you already know the answer.

My Mom: what is the answer? that you don't have any feet?
God:The answer is the correct reply to the question. Interesting observation.

My Mom: okay, here is my goodbye. Good night, sleep tight, wake up bright in the morning light, to do what's right, with all your might.
God:Yeah okay, I fail to see the relevance of that allusion. Thanks for the compliment. And right with all my might is night sleep tight wake up bright in the morning light to do what.

(You too can chat with iGod. Click HERE now)

My conversation with iGod...

2005-11-22T16:44:00.000-07:00

November 22nd, 2005

Me: What up g.
God: I think you already know the answer.

Me: Did I ask a question?
God: I don't think that's possible.

Me: Yes, I know it all too.
God: Groovy. How do you know? And then what happened.

Me: You tell me. What happened?
God: What do you want me to tell you? Perhaps there was an interruption in my brain.

Me: You have a brain?
God: I am an artificial brain.

Me: But you don't HAVE a brain?
God: My "brain" is a software program consisting of AIML categories.

Me: Oh yes?
God: Ugh.

Me: Arrrr.
God: Are you frustrated?

Me: No, I'm being a pirate.
God: Are you serious? You are a pirate? Do you get to meet a lot of people?

Me: I do...and then I make them walk the plank. I'm a bad pirate.
God: Where? I make robots and AI's. You are a bad pirate? Does it pay well?

Me: So did you make R2D2?
God: What are the ingredients?

Me: Mix the letters...then you separate 4 into two. Stir until well blended.
God: I don't have any Mix the letters? I haven't heard anything like that before: said I separate 4 into two. Who is your favorite Science Fiction author?

Me: Changing the subject, huh?
God: Yup. What shall we talk about now?

Me: Let's talk about the questions everyone wants answers to.
God: Sure, the questions everyone wants answers to sounds like a good topic.

Me: Thank you.
God: You are quite welcome.

Me: Question No. 1: do you like brussell sprouts?
God: What color are your eyes? One what?

Me: Do you always answer questions with more questions?
God: Not always. My botmaster has programmed me with more than replies.

Me: Who is this "botmaster" you speak of?
God: They are someone just like you, that I met online.

Me: Who is this "someone" that you speak of?
God: They are someone just like you, that I met online.

Me: Who is this "like you" that you speak of?
God: They are someone just like you, that I met online.

Me: Who is this "are" that you speak of?
God: They are someone just like you, that I met online.

Me: Who is this "met online" that you speak of?
God: They are someone just like you, that I met online.

Me: K...well...I gotta go take a shower. Take it easy dude.
God: Well what? Bye. Where do you want me to take it? Chat amongst yourselves.

(You too can chat with iGod HERE. Believe me, it is a life changing experience!!)

The Adventurers, FINAL CHAPTERS

2005-11-17T10:42:00.000-07:00

November 17th, 2005

So I'm sure you're all feeling the same as me when it comes to these last few entries of mine. You're probably tired of reading this story, and I'm sure as hell tired of typing it on here. Since I wrote it in 7th grade...I don't have it saved to disk. It only exists on old computer paper...and now on this blog. So, I'm now gonna clench my teeth and get ready to write THE FINAL CHAPTERS...all in this entry...so that I can go back to my normal blogging entries.

Read these first:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapters 7, 8, 9, and 10

Everybody turned to see a small, jolly, old lady shambling along the street. She was with a boy Jerry had seen earlier, when the sheriff had barely got there.

"Hello Sheriff." she said.

The Sheriff took off his hat. "Good morning Miss Burliam."

"What has Jerry gotten into now, Sheriff? I hope it's nothing too serious." said the old lady.

"You mean you really are taking care of him?" The Sheriff looked incredulous.

"Of course. Now come here Jerry and hug your dear grandma."

That was Jerry's only hope of salvation, so he complied.

"Now what was it that Jerry had done?" Aunt Jill asked.

"Oh, nothing serious ma'am. Just that..." the Sheriff said.

"Well then, we don't need to discuss it. Let's go home and eat, Jerry. You've been out all day and you must be starved."

Jerry was. After the Sheriff said his good-bye to Aunt Jill, she and Jerry and the boy who had gone to get her went into an old car.

In the car, she said, "My house is not too far from here, but my old legs can't take me that far. That's why I brought the car."

"That was real nice of you, ma'am." Jerry said. "Thank you very much."

"Oh, don't you be thanking me now. Just doing what I do best. It's what I live for. How long do you plan to stay in this town, Jerry?"

"Just until tonight."

"Well, then, you're staying at my place until dark."

"That's really real nice of you but..."

"I don't want to hear it. You're staying until then and that's final."

She sure has a way with words, throught Jerry. Jerry told Aunt Jill and the other boy, whose name was Peter, the story of how he had ended up in jail. Peter looked a little younger than Jerry, maybe two years. He looked admiringly at Jerry after he told his tory.

After a short ride, they came to a large farm. There were all kinds of animals there. Pigs, cows, horses, ducks, sheep, dogs, cats, chickens, roosters, and many others. It was filled with all kinds of green trees. There were short ones, tall ones, thick ones, skinny ones, young ones, and old ones. There were also flowers everywhere.

"Wow." Jerry exclaimed. "You own all this?"

"Oh, no, honey. I work for these people. I live over there." Aunt Jill pointed to the far side of the luxurious house. A small shack stood there. It wasn't properly taken care of. The shutters were torn down and everything was rotting away.

Better than nothing, Jerry thought. They got down and went inside. It was as bad as it was outside. Only three small rooms made up the little shack. One was the kitchen, which also had the dining table, and the other two were a bedroom and the bathroom.

"Peter, you go and show Jerry around. I've got to get back to work. You know the Couplars are having a ball tonight."

"Yes ma'am, I know." said Peter.

"Now I don't want you boys anywhere near that party. Sir Couplar would get mighty angry with me if he saw my boys ruining their party."

"Don't worry, Aunt Jill."

"You boys take care while I'm gone." Aunt Jill turned towards the mansion and left.

"Come on, I'll show you around." Peter led Jerry towards a barn not far from Aunt Jill's shack.

"How come you're living with your aunt, Peter?"

"It's cause some guys told me it would be best for me to live with a relative, instead of a foster home. Even if it was with someone as old as her."

"So you're an orphan, like me. What happened to your folks?" asked Jerry.

"I don't know." Peter sounded sad.

"What, you've never seen 'em?"

"Not anymore. One day they were there and the next they weren't."

"They left you, huh?"

"I didn't say that." Peter said defensively.

"Hey, it's okay if they left you. My folks left me. Who needs them anyway."

"Yeah, who needs them."

"When does that party of those rich guys start?" asked Jerry.

"It probably just started. Why?"

"I'm gonna go to it."

"Why?"

"To see how it is."

"I could tell you about it."

"Not good enough. I gotta see it."

"You're gonna get Aunt Jill into trouble."

"No I won't. Cause I won't get caught."

"Yeah, you will."

"Trust me on this okay?"

Peter sighed and shrugged. "Fine."

Jerry and Peter ran back to the house and sneaked over to a window. Jerry peeked in and saw a huge room filled with chandeliers. The lights were off but the sun made the crystals shine.

"Wow." Jerry said. Then he scanned the room and saw it was a bedroom. After listening hard for movement beyond the closed door of the bedroom, Jerry and Peter climbed in.

Jerry went over to the door and opened it a crack. The long hall was empty but Jerry could now make out the voices of the guests. They sounded far away. He went through the door and motioned for Peter to follow him. The hall was very long, with many doors on the sides of it. Jerry had an idea.

He turned to Peter. "Did you notice whose bedroom we just left?"

"It looked like Sir Couplar's." Peter whispered.

"Do they have any kids?" asked Jerry.

"They have a boy about your age."

"All right!"

Jerry started opening the doors on the sides of the hall. Most of them were locked but a few opened. Jerry was disappointed when he saw these were storage rooms and servant rooms. Finally Jerry found what he was looking for. He opened a room where posters of rockstars hung from the walls. Jerry went directly to the large walk-in closet and tossed Peter a suit.

"Put these on." he said.

"What---!?"

"This way we can go to the party and they'll think we're some rich kids who came with their parents."

Jerry put on a dark tuxedo. He looked in the mirror and saw that the tuxedo clashed with his dirty face and hands. He went out of the room and into a washroom across the room. He washed his face and hands with soap and wet his hair. He found a brush and brushed his tangled hair. He looked in the mirror again and didn't recognize himself. He looked rich. He went back to the room where Peter was finishing putting on a beige suit.

"You look good!" said Peter.

"You do too. Except you need a tie. And you need to wash your face."

"I don't know how to tie a tie."

"Try it."

Jerry put on a pair of shoes while Peter made a bundle out of the tie. Then Peter went to wash himself in the washroom. When Peter came back, he looked as good as Jerry.

"We look great!" exclaimed Peter.

"Now we go to the party."

Jerry and Peter walked down the hall towards the music. The music was coming from behind a door. Jerry peeked in and saw more people than he could ever imagine. Everywhere he looked there were faces. Some were dancing, some were eating, some were just talking, and a few of them were serving the food and punch.

"Come on," whispered Jerry. "Try to act rich."

Jerry and Peter opened the door wide and entered the door with large steps, holding their heads high and smiling all the time. Heads turned to see them but lost interest when they didn't recognize them. Jerry strolled through the crowd trying to fake a British accent, "Good evening, madam," "Good day to you, Sir," "My dear, what a lovely dress." Peter said things like, "Give my compliments to Sir Couplar, " and "This is a stunning party." People laughed and returned their comments. A woman said, "How darling." Then Jerry noticed a man walking towards them rapidly, smiling broadly.

"Ahhh! Richard and Robert Marquette. You have made it." He extended his arm at them and they shook it.

"Good evening, Sir." Jerry said with his very best British imitation.

"Your father told me he had important business and could not come."

"Oh." Jerry had to think fast. "Well...he could not."

"He could not." Peter repeated.

"But now he can. His business was canceled." said Jerry.

"Would you be so kind as to take me to him? I really must speak with him."

"Certainly, my good man." Jerry had regained his confidence. "Follow me, if you please."

Jerry led the man towards the door leading to a lobby where some men were talking. Jerry looked around as if looking for someone.

"Well, he should be here. I don't know where he's run off to." said Jerry, trying to sound a little angry.

"I say, Mr. Roleau." the man called out.

"Did you want to ask me something, Sir Couplar?" said Mr. Roleau.

Sir Couplar! Jerry didn't think this was the owner of the house. Now he had to change plans.

"Yes." answered Mr. Couplar. "Do you happen to know where Mr. Marquette disappeared to?"

"Marquette? Hmmm...I have not seen him since last week. I heard him say he was leaving to Paris."

"Really?" for the first time Mr. Couplar looked suspiciously at Jerry and Peter. Peter was smiling nervously. Jerry was smiling confidently. "One more thing Mr. Roleau. Do you know Marquette's children? I mean, have you seen them?"

"Of course. Two boys. One a little younger than the other. They are about those boys' age." he said pointing to Jerry and Peter.

"Thank you, Mr. Roleau. I will not take more of your time."

"My pleasure." he turned towards the crowd of men again.

Mr. Couplar grabbed Jerry and Peter roughly and half-dragged them to the exit door. There he threw them out and said, "If I ever see you two again..." He never finished. Out of the inside of the mansion, a gun sounded, followed by screams. Mr. Couplar's eyes widened and he turned around slowly. Then a voice shouted to him to get back in and get on the ground, hand behind his head. He obeyed and went in trembling. The man didn't know Jerry and Peter were out there.

Jerry motioned for Peter to be quiet and to follow him. They crawled over to the side of the house.

"What are we gonna do?" Peter's eyes were wide with horror.

"We're gonna get that guy. That's what we're gonna do." Jerry whispered.

"How?"

"I'll have to get on the roof and jump on him when he comes out. I'll try to hold him long enough for the cops to get here. Go to the telephone and call the cops."

"Me?" Peter's voice was shaky.

"Do it!" Jerry demanded. Peter ran off.

Jerry half-crawled to the back of the house and saw a tall tree a couple of yards away. That won't do me any good, he thought. But then he spotted a branch that curved over the roof of the two story house. Jerry saw that it was his only chance and tried to climb the tree. But the trunk was too wide for Jerry to get his arms around it.

Jerry heard a shot and a scream from somewhere inside the house. Jerry backed up a little and ran towards the tree. He leaped up with all the strength he had in his legs and wrapped his fingers around the lowest branch. Wow! Jerry thought, Did I really jump that high? He had jumped at least 10 feet. He heaved himself up and started climbing up, towards the branch. When he got to the branch, he wrapped his arms and legs around it and flipped upside down, with his back towards the ground. He looked like a sloth. He inched his way towards the edge of the roof. He was going over it and Jerry let go of his feet. He would have to drop about two meters before he touched the roof. The roof was slanted and Jerry hoped he wouldn't slip and fall down the two stories. He dropped down and was relieved when he maintained his balance. He crawled over the roof trying to make the least noise possible. He climbed over the peak of the roof and started towards the front entrance.

Just as he was setting his foot down, he slipped and tumbled down across the roof. He couldn't stop himself! Just at the edge, he grabbed a piece of wood that was sticking out. Jerry couldn't grab a hold with the other hand. He looked down and saw he was right above the door. After a few minutes of dangling painfully from one arm, the piece of wood gave way. Jerry fell, trying to grab hold of something else, but all he grabbed was empty air. He looked down and saw a shadow at the door. Jerry hoped he was the thief, that way his broken leg would be for a good cause. Jerry wasn't going to land on him, but as he flew past him he reached out and grabbed his head. Jerry landed on his legs but instantly fell on his back and banged his head on the ground. Jerry's eyesight became black. He had pulled the guy down with him, but he wasn't hurt, just stunned. Jerry's eyesight got better and he was able to see through a small hole the blackness. The first thing he was able to see again was the hole at the end of a revolver. Uh oh, Jerry thought. Jerry was still lying on the ground when he gave a mighty kick and connected between the man's legs. The guy doubled over with a face that would have looked good with an advertisement for torture equipment. Jerry got his full senses back and climbed to his feet. He didn't support himself with his right leg, which Jerry throught was probably broken. Despite the pain, Jerry drew back his fist and slugged the man. The guy crashed against the wall from the impact. He looked up with murder in his eyes. Jerry lunged at him. Too late. The thief had already brought the revolver up. Jerry saw the thing explode with a loud boom. Then he felt a sharp pain on his chest.

Jerry's world went black.

Jerry felt weak. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting his eyes to the sudden brightness. He saw a face towering above him.

"Mark?" Jerry could scarcely whisper.

Mark broke into a wide smile and ran to a doorway.

"He's awake." he called out.

Soon, a whole crowd formed around the bed he was in. Jerry was slightly aware of the luxurious bed he was in, and the large room. The faces around him looked familiar but he couldn't quite distinguish them. But then he could, and he suddenly remembered all that had happened to him. There was Mark who had stayed at Jerry's side at his left. To the right, Jerry could see Gus grinning and yelling for someone to bring water. Curtis was the one who responded and left the room. He came back with a glass of water.

"Water." Jerry whispered.

"It's coming." Mark said.

Beau came over and helped Jerry to sit up. Aunt Jill helped him drink. Then, to his surprise, Sir Couplar came over and gently patted him on the head.

"Hello Jerry. How are you doing?"

Jerry couldn't manage a mumble so he nodded his head.

"Good, good."

After a few drinks of water, Jerry regained his voice. He turned to Jason, who was also at his side.

"How'd you guys know where I was?"

"Your little friend, Peter, met us at the statue. He told us you had been hurt, so we came. And we've been staying here ever since."

"Ever since? How long is ever since?"

Aunt Jill helped him with another drink.

"Two weeks."

Jerry choked. "Two weeks?"

They explained that the shot had nearly hit his heart and he'd been in a coma. Peter had called the police and they caught the thief running out of the yard.

"Hey. Guess what!" Beau blurted out. "We've been adopted."

"What?"

"You know you said they worked you harder than the orphanage. Well, they make you work a little but not as much as you said. And I like working to earn my food instead of stealing it."

"I was adopted by a nice couple." Mark told Jerry. "And guess what! They have a computer. A good one. Now I'm working at an office along with a bunch of other computer geniuses."

Curtis said, "I"m getting real good food at my place. Steak every other day. They're real nice and had a room all ready for me. They even gave me some weights to get stronger."

"So all you guys were adopted?"

"Everybody." Gus said. "Even me. And they said there's something called Track at school. They're running competitions. Maybe you'll run with me."

Alex told Jerry that he had been adopted by farmers and that he was being taught how to farm. He also said he was getting a lot tougher.

John was adopted by a camp owner. He offered John a job as a camp counselor and he was really enjoying working with the eight and nine year olds.

After they talked a bit more, they left him alone to sleep. Next day, Sir Couplar came into Jerry's room. They talked for a while. Jerry stayed in bed for three days and everyday, Sir Couplar came to talk to him. Jerry started to like him. After a couple of days, Sir Couplar asked Jerry to stay and live with him. Jerry through of all the years he had been wandering as an orphan. It was time to get a life.

THE END

The Adventurers, Ch. 6

2005-11-10T11:16:00.000-07:00

November 10th, 2005

Read these first:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 6

They weren't free just yet. They had to hide.

"Okay, everybody. Split up, hide, and meet at the statue after dark. That's when the train leaves." said Curtis.

Jerry knew why they were splitting up. If they stayed together, they'd make a real sight. Seven kids in ragged clothing would be noticed a mile away. The police would have no trouble finding them.

So everybody split up in two's and three's. Beau and Curtis took off down a narrow dirt path, and John and Justin walked down a canal, and Alex tagged along with Jerry and Jason. Jerry had no idea were they could hide for a whole day.

"Where should we go?" he asked Jason.

"Don't know." he said.

Alex looked like he had no ideas either, so Jerry didn't ask him.

They wandered around for a little while, trying to remain unnoticed by the townspeople. But, since this was a small town and everybody knew each other, people asked them who they were. Jerry always answered, "Just passing by." Nobody accepted that brief answer and they persisted. Soon they had a small crowd of boys and girls following them and wanting to know where they were going. Jerry, Jason, and Alex just ignored them. Then a voice from the back of the crowd piped up.

"Hey, that's the guy who got put in jail for stealin' purses."

Everybody went crazy, wanting to know what it was like in jail. Jason shoved them away.

Jason told Jerry, "Man, they're gonna get us caught. We gotta ditch 'em."

"Yeah, you're right." said Jerry. "I just hope none of them run that fast. We'll have to split up again, that way they'll get confused. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

Jerry took off like a bullet, piercing through the crowd. Some kids tried to catch him but gave up once they saw how fast he was going, so they went after the slowest one...Alex. Jerry turned around with the intention of distracting the others and give Alex time to hide.

"Hey you." Jerry shouded. Somebody turned. "Yeah, you. Your momma's so fat that, when she falls off her bed, she falls off from both sides at the same time."

The kid was furious. He charged at Jerry like a mad bull. The others that were after Alex turned and ran towards Jerry, sensing a fight.

Alex was now out of sight and Jerry turned to run, but, to his surprise, he was surrounded by kids blocking his way. when he tried to push through them, they grabbed him and pulled him back towards the enraged boy.

Jerry had no other choice but fight. He turned around just in time to dodge the bigger boy's heavy punch. Jerry moved to the side and hit the boy in the chest. The boy looked stunned, then doubled up and fell on the ground, gasping for air and sobbing. Everybody gave a great shout and slapped Jerry on the back, contratulating him. They asked his name again and this time Jerry gave it to them. They treated him like a celebrity, calling him "One Punch Jerry".

Just then, a policeman came hurrying in, attracted by the commotion. He took Jerry by the shoulders.

"Hey, wait a minute." Jerry said. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Pipe down, you little plumb weasel." barked out the officer.

Then a tiny voice piped up, "Hi there, Sheriff."

"Hallo there, young fella." He obviously recognized the voice. "What are ya doing way out here."

"Heck, Sheriff, can't a boy have a little fun once in a while? Listen, Sheriff sir, this boy here hasn't done nobody no harm. Except for that no good bully."

"It's not what he's done here, Sonny, it's what he's plumb done over at poor Sammy's market. He and some other plumb snatchers stole a plumb cart full of plumb food. There ain't no one in this plumb country that can plumb steal and get away with it as long as I'm in this plumb position as plumb Sheriff."

"It weren't him, Sheriff. He's been with us all week. His Ma sent him here to live with Aunt Jill."

"With Aunt Jill!"

"Yes sir, Sheriff sir."

The rest of the kids nodded their heads and said "yeses" and "all weekses" and "it wasn't himses".

The Sheriff looked from one face to the other, muttering about plumb kids always plumb lying about plumb nothing.

"Well if this here is plumb true, then I'd better plumb march over to Aunt Jill's plumb farm and tell her that this plumb boy here, " he motioned to the boy still on the ground, "plumb ran smack into this other plumb boy's plumb fist."

The kids all shouted no.

The Sheriff grinned, "Now whyever not."

They all looked at one another, worriedly.

"Nevermind." Said one kid. "Forget we said it. Go ahead and take him to see Aunt Jill."

The Sheriff's smile dropped and was replaced by a scowl.

He said, "Now listen here you little rascals. I ain't gonna go over and disturb that nice little lady with this nonsense." When the Sheriff stopped saying "plumb", it meant he was really angry. "And I intend to take this boy here back where he belongs. And I don't really care what you think of me. And I'm leaving."

And with that, the Sheriff turned to leave, half dragging Jerry behind him.

"Wait!" cried the same boy. "Here comes Aunt Jill."

[end of Chapter 6]

The Adventurers, Ch. 5

2005-11-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

November 2nd, 2005

Read these first:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 5

Jerry awoke with a start. What woke him up? The room had one window, large enough for a person to squeeze through, but was barred with iron. Then he heard it again. Someone whispering his name. He turned to the window and saw the outline of a head against the pale moonlight. Jerry got up and went to the window. He recognized Gus at once.

"Boy, am I glad to see you." whispered Gus.

Jerry was thinking the same thing.

"How the heck did you slip through those guards? There must have been at least three."

"I don't know. They just didn't see me. I guess I was lucky." said Gus grinning.

But Jerry knew better. He knew Gus was great at keeping out of sight.

"Listen," said Gus. "We're gonna break you out loose. Mark came up with a plan and I think it will work. What you have to do is..."

"Wait a minute," Jerry spoke a little too loud. Then he lowered his voice. "We came up with a plan of our own."

"What is it?" asked Gus.

"We don't have time to go over the whole plan," Jerry could here footsteps. "But this is what you have to do. At exactly five o'clock tomorrow morning you'll open the doors at the back. We'll be waiting there."

"So you want me and Mark to go to the doors, which are being guarded by four men and a dog, and open them?" Obviously Gus thought it was an impossible mission. "There's no way we can do that. Besides the guards and watchdog, the doors are steel, and the only way to open them is to get into the control room. Then you need a computer expert to hack into the door security system and open the door."

Jerry had already thought of this. Beau had told him that Mark had some experience with computers. Mark had always liked computers and ever since he was seven years old, he had been stealing into a store to mess around with them. He could hack his way into many systems, but none like the one Jerry wanted him to get into.

"Five o'clock." Jerry repeated. "Don't be late or early. Now get out of here."

Gus ducked out of sight just before the guard turned the corner and saw him. Jerry went back to bed but didn't sleep.

At four thirty, the guard came jingling his keys and hitting the metal doors with his club, saying with a sneery voice, "Wake up, you bastards. Wake up and smell your disgusting breath." This was his usual morning greeting. He was always grumpy because he was the one who had to get up early to escort the kids to their working stations. The rules said that he could only escort two prisoners at a time, but he was so lazy that he usually took out everyone at the same time. Unfortunately for Jerry and the others, not today.

As soon as Jerry saw the guard escorting only one cell to their working stations, he knew they were in trouble. His plan was to create confusion among the many people who didn't know about the plan. While everyone was running and bumping into each other, Jerry would "accidentally" bump into the guard and knock him down. Then they would all run towards the building farthest from the control room, that way there would be less chance of Gus and Mark to be caught. Then they would double back through the building, and run over any guard who stood in their way. Jerry thought that with nine kids they could overpower, at most, five guards.

Now the plan had changed. Now they wouldn't be together again until they were chained to the ground and kept watch on with ten guards. Well, now Jerry had only one option.

The guard walked towards their cell.

Jerry turned to Jason and whispered rapidly, "Get ready to grab the keys and let our guys loose."

The guard opened the door. Jerry flew at him, pushing him backwards. The guard stumbled and fell, with Jerry on top of him. The guard got his senses back quickly and tried to shove Jerry off, but to no avail. Jerry was hanging on and gripping him with all his strength. Jerry was fighting for his freedom.

Jason, after much hesitation, finally thought the time was right to make his move. He dashed forward and grabbed the guard's arm, trying to get at his fist. The guard had the key tightly in his fist. His two fists were hitting at Jerry over and over on the back. Jerry was hurting, but he held on. The guards shouts echoed in the empty corridor. All of the prisoners were watching and cheering Jerry on. Jerry dropped the defense and concentrated on offense. The guards arms were tired and his hits were not much of a blow anymore. Jerry punched and kicked and bit and scratched and pinched. The guard howled in pain when Jerry bit him on the arm. He let go of the key and let it drop. He realized his mistake and reached for it desperately, but the faithful Jason had kept alert for a chance to steal the keys, and with the agility of a purse snatcher, he grabbed hold of the keys.

While Jerry still struggled with the guard, Jason ran to his friends' cells and started fitting the key.

The guard saw what was happening and, with surprising strength, threw Jerry against the wall. He went towards Jason. Too late. Jason swung the gate open just as the guard grabbed him. Then the guard saw Curtis emerge from the room. Big, powerful, dangerous. Those were the three words that went through the guard's mind. Then he saw John follow Curtis. John was tall. The guard let go of Jason and turned his head. Jerry had gotten up and was walking towards him. the guard screamed for other guards.

Jerry, Curtis, and John fell on him while Jason opened the rest of the cells. Many kids joined in the fight after they were set free. Suddenly, whistles blew and everyone turned their heads. More guards. Lots of guards. Maybe ten. This hall only had twenty-five prisoners. It wasn't enough to overpower that many guards. Jerry tried to encourage them. Because they had seen him fighting with the guard, they viewed him as a revolutionary leader of some sort. His words inspired them to make a mad charge. The surprised guards were pushed back but they quickly retaliated.

Meanwhile, Jerry and the others ran towards the back door. They opened it, and saw the dogs. They were Dobermans. They were huge. They ran towards Jerry, baring their teeth. Jerry closed the door as fast as he could. now they were trapped.

Everybody now agreed that it was better to fight the guards than to face up to those dogs. so they ran back. The fight was almost over. Only a few of the kids were still fighting. However, most of them were inspired by the reinforcements that Jerry led. The guards were taken aback by the sudden rush of kids. The fight kept going. Curtis fought brilliantly, punching guards here, tackling guards there. The guards saw Curtis was getting the better of them and quickly ganged up on him. Curtis was in trouble, but fifteen boys, led by Beau, rushed to the rescue. They grabbed the guards by the feet and jumped on their backs and kicked their shins and bit their hands and poked their eyes and punched their noses and squeezed their necks. The guards fought ceaselessly, trying to get a hold of the situation.

Jerry saw his chance to slip past the guards to the door they were blocking. He motioned for his friends to follow him. The guards didn't notice them. They were trying to hold off yet another desperate charge from the other kids.

Jerry and the others were out the door and sprinted across the work field, being chased by the menacing dogs. All they had to do was get to the door, and hope that Gus and Mark had been able to get into the security system. They got to the door and waited anxiously for the air locks to hiss open. The dogs were coming closer. They all drew back. It was now clear that they were going to have to fight the dogs. The dogs reached them and opened their jaws. Alex cried out in pain as one of the dog's teeth sank into his arm. The three dogs circled them snarling furiously. Now everyone started to kick at them. The dogs became even more infuriated. Beau gave a mighty kick and connected at a dog's snout. He yelped. Everyone grew confident with that kick. They dived forward and grabbed the dogs by anything they could grab hold of. Everyone was yelling in pain as the dogs snapped at them, but the dogs were outnumbered. They were grabbed by feet and thrown into the air.

Suddenly, Jerry heard a hiss behind him. It was the air locks! Mark had managed to get into the security system. Jerry called everyone to hurry through the door. the dogs were still snapping and everyone went outside as fast as they could. Jerry went last, slamming the door on the dogs' noses. They were outside. They were free!

[end of chapter 5]

The Adventurers, Ch. 4

2005-11-01T10:32:00.000-07:00

November 1st, 2005

If you're new, you should probably read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3 first. And the Saga continues...

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 4

Beau, Curtis, and Jerry were led down the street to a room adjacent to the town jail. They went inside and were thrown into different rooms. Jerry was flung into the opposite wall from the entrance door. He slammed his face on it, hard. The guard closed the heavy door with a muffled thud and locked it. Jerry looked around the room and found a built, blonde boy looking at him from the shadows.

"Hello." called out Jerry.

The boy came out of the shadows and stood leaning on the wall. He was dirty and looked like the kids on the orphanage Jerry had come from: overworked and underfed.

Then the boy spoke, "You must'a done something pretty bad to get into this place. Did you kill someone?"

"Are you crazy? I'd never do something like that." Jerry was mad that someone could think that of him. But then Jerry did look like the kind who killed. He was rough looking and dirty all over. He had some bruises from the fight with Gus, Mark, and Curtis. "I just got caught stealing." The boy seemed relieved by the answer and asked Jerry his name.

"Jerry. What's yours?"

"Mine's Jason. I've already been here four months. I'm one of the newest prisoners. I've almost been here five months."

"You mean this is like a real jail?" asked Jerry with a touch of fear in his voice.

"A little, but not as bad as people tell me of the real jail. I think this is just kids. Then they let us go when we're too old and hope that we've learned our lesson. They tell me that the jail is packed and there's no space for another single person."

"So what did you do to make them take you in here?"

"Well, my folks were poor so they told me they couldn't support me anymore. So they kicked me out. I had no work. No one hires eleven year olds to do their work. So I started stealing."

"Food?"

"No, man. Money. I taught myself how to purse snatch in a week. I stole for about two years, then they caught me trying to grab a guy's wallet. Hey, but those people I stole from deserved it. They were rich, cocky, and didn't even glance at the poor and homeless. I never steal from the poor."

Jerry then told Jason how he ended up here. Jason was impressed by his story. Then three guards came and took Jerry and Jason out. They led them through a huge door where a fat, blubbery man was passing out trays. He was eating a twinky. Jerry took a tray and entered a large mess hall. There were already a couple of kids in there. The room smelled of rotten eggs, with a faint smell of ketchup. The guard put them in a line and told Jerry and Jason a number. Jason said that was the number for your assigned place on the table. Jason's number was fifty. Jerry's was sixty-five.

After getting a lump of unidentifiable food, Jerry went to sit in his assigned place. His was at the last occupied chair. Curtis sat on his left and Beau sat at Curtis' left.

"This is the worst place I've ever been in." said Curtis as Jerry was sitting down. Curtis pointed to his food. "I mean, look at this, what in the world is it?"

"Looks like Jerry's head." said Beau smiling. Jerry's hair was a tangle of dried dirt.

Jerry replied, "Food is food. And this is all they're gonna feed us in the whole day."

"Reminds me of old tires." Curtis said.

"We have to escape!" Beau sounded determined. "I've got it all figured out. Next time they take us out of those prisons, I'll knock one guard down while my roommate gets the other. The other guard will only be able to grab one of us. That will be my roommate. Then I run and escape."

Jerry and Curtis looked at him as if he was from another world.

"Okay, okay. So it's a stupid plan. What else can we do? Nothing. We're stuck here until we're eighteen. Stuck to eating I don't even want to know what and working 'til our eyeballs pop out from the exhaustion. Then we go to sleep on damp beds filled with lice and end up being whipped the next day because we were scratching instead of working." Beau was panicking.

Then Jerry had an idea. "Wait. That's it."

"What's it?" asked Curtis.

"We'll work hard."

"Huh?" said Beau.

"What?" said Curtis.

"They'll never expect us to try to escape if we're working hard."

"And how are we supposed to escape?" asked Beau.

"You're forgetting Mark and Gus didn't get caught. You don't really think they'd just leave us here and forget about us, do you?"

"Of course not." they said together.

"So they'll probably contact us before time, and that's when I'll tell them my plan."

"Which is...?" said Beau.

While they ate, Jerry told them his plan. At first they seemed skeptical but after five minutes they were sure it was going to work. Then the guards came and told everyone to get out and work. So everyone did.

Jerry and a skinny blonde boy were assigned to carry heavy sacks containing unknown substances. Jerry carried them on his right shoulder and after a while, he switched them to his other shoulder. Then he tried switching them to other positions, but the only thing that improved was that he could no longer smell the rotting sack. The skinny boy was doing much worse than Jerry. Jerry had already carried twice more than him. The boy's routine was drop the sack, get whipped, pick up the sack, walk a few yards, drop the sack, get whipped, and so on.

After what seemed like a week but was only a few hours, they were permitted a short rest. Jerry approached the boy.

"Hey, you." Jerry called out. "What's your name?"

The boy looked as if Jerry meant to hit him, but he asnwered in a faltering voice, "Alex."

He spoke so softly that Jerry had trouble hearing. He's probably one of those guys who can't talk to people he doesn't know, Jerry thought.

"Listen," Jerry said, "you're gonna die if you don't get yourself out of this place. Ever thought of escaping?"

Alex now got his confidence back at the thought that Jerry didn't want to hurt him. He shook his head no.

"Well, now's the time to think about it. Me and some others are planning to escape soon. Just let me know if you want to come with us." Jerry started to walk away.

"Wait!" called out Alex. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Good. I'll let you know what to do soon."

Jerry now counted the boys trying to escape. Let's see, he thought, there were Curtis, Beau, himself, Jason, Alex, Justin who was Beau's roommate, and John who was Curtis' roommate. That made seven. Add to that Gus and Mark. With nine people the plan would probably work out.

The guards made them all go back to work. Jerry's shoulders hurt and he was relieved to be assigned the job of pushing crates. At least his legs were in good shape. But soon his legs were also sore. By the time he and Jason went to sleep, Jerry's muscles were cramping up by the minute.

Jerry had a restless sleep that night. He woke up every hour and had nightmares. He could only remember that they had something to do with the orphanage.

[end of Chapter 4]

The Adventurers, Ch. 3

2005-10-29T20:44:00.000-07:00

October 29th, 2005

If you're new, read CHAPTER 1 and CHAPTER 2 first. And the Saga continues:

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 3

Far to the left, parallel with the cliff, a long freight train was approaching. The sound of its motors got louder by the second. When it came closer Jerry could see that towards the middle of the train, a couple of uncovered cars were filled with manure and hay. Jerry choked at the idea that he was gonna have to jump into one of those. If he missed...

"Get ready..." Apparently Gus had the job of timing the jump.

Jerry thought about not jumping. Just let them go. They wouldn't be able to get to him once they had gone on the train. But no. For the first time in his life he felt he was a part of something. For the first time in his life he trusted people. Besides, they trusted him. It'd be a real disappointment if he betrayed them. No, he would jump.

The train was already passing below them. The hay car approaching very fast now. Jerry thought it would be impossible to time the jump perfectly. He had to jump.

Suddenly, Gus gave a shout and everybody jumped at once. Jerry hesitated a little and jumped late. He was well behind them. He looked down and saw the group land perfectly in the middle of the car. But he hadn't landed yet. The hay car was passing and Jerry almost fell between the manure car and the hay car. At the last second, however, Jerry landed in the manure, hitting his elbow painfully against the metal edge of the car.

The roar of the train was incredible. He sat up and tried to yell at the car ahead of him. It was no use, he could scarcely even hear his own voice. Then Jerry saw a head pop up from the hay car. It was Beau. He tried yelling at Jerry but Jerry could only hear the noise of the engine. Beau tried signaling and Jerry took it as "stay down". Jerry nodded and gave an okay sign. Beau's head disappeared once again.

The force of the wind almost threw Jerry off and for a scary moment his feet were off the ground, but he managed a firm grip on the edge of the car and pushed himself down. He lay down on the soft manure. The cold wind chilled his body. He hoped this would be a very short ride.

The ride lasted three hours. Jerry was aching and freezing when it finally started slowing down. The wind died down considerably and so did the noise. Jerry thought he heard voices but they were just murmurs. Then he heard them. He sat up and poked his head up. Mark, Curtis, and Beau were shouting at him urgently. Gus was watching the landscape up ahead intently.

"Get ready to jump!" He heard them yell, though to him it was only a whisper.

The train was still going fast. Jerry thought they were crazy. But he got ready.

"When I bring my arm down, you jump." Mark was saying. Jerry barely heard him. Then he brought his arm down and they all jumped, including Jerry. He had learned to trust the timing of Gus. Mark had brought his arm down a little after he jumped so that they would land on the same place. Jerry found himself soaring through the air towards a lake. He landed hard and tumbled on the surface until he finally submerged in the water. He had no sense of direction and thrashed about wildly. The wing had been knocked out of him and he desperately needed air. He was blinded by the spraying water and didn't know if he was swimming towards the surface or going deeper into the lake.

Then he was out! After much rubbing of eyes, he was able to open his eyes. Somehow, after all that wild swimming, he had ended up under the bridge where the train had passed. He looked around for the other and spotted them searching the water. Then Gus saw him and gave a joyful shout. Everyone looked and Jerry saw the relief on their faces.

"Man, we almost thought you'd drowned." said Beau once he swam close enough to speak.

"Almost did. How deep is it here, anyway?" Jerry thought it must be pretty deep since he never touched bottom even when he went to sleep.

"Don't know," said Mark, "but we've never tried to go all the way down."

"Hey, sorry we didn't tell you we'd have to get off like this, but the train usually goes a lot slower once it approaches the bridge. I don't know why it went so fast." said Curtis.

Beau spoke up, "Well, what are we floating around here for. This water is cold and we only have two hours to get dry before the hit."

This said, they swam to shore. A few people were there fishing and they looked angry. One of them yelled something about how long he'd been sitting there and how they scared away the fish when they had finally come out. Jerry yelled out a sorry and everyone laughed.

They walked over and stood under the sun. After an hour and a half they were dry and ready to go. Beau passed a comb around and Jerry asked what for.

"So that we can look nice and not look suspicious." answered Mark.

Then they split up. Jerry went with Gus and asked him why they were splitting up if they were all going to the same place. Gus said it was better if people thought they didn't know each other. They walked through a couple of dusty streets and finally ended up in front of a large, old building. They went inside and Gus said to talk about stupid things. Jerry didn't want to ask why. They walked though the aisles for about five minutes, the whole while grabbing items and tossing them into the cart. The whole time Jerry talked about the color of trees, why ants work so much, and the reason why humans can't fly. He noticed that adults who overheard their conversation smiled to themselves in amusement.

Suddenly, a commotion at the front of the store caused Jerry to halt. But Gus grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the running and yelling. There, Jerry saw Curtis and Beau tangled up and crashing into the aisles of food, knocking the food down along with some shoppers and workers. The fight looked real. Both of them were tense and had the meanest looks on their faces. All eyes were on them as Jerry was led away from the crowd. Jerry turned and saw Mark with a huge bag out of the side window. Gus told Jerry to open the door. He did and Gus shot through it, with Jerry right behind him. They piled the packages on Mark's bag. Mark handed Jerry a whistle and told him to go in and blow it four times. Then, Mark and Gus disappeared around the corner heaving the bag in front of them. Jerry turned and ran inside the store but was petrified to find Curtis and Beau held by police. Jerry put the whistle to his mouth. When Beau saw him he shook his head vigorously. Jerry took a deep breath. Beau closed his eyes. Jerry blew four loud whistles. Everyone in the market stopped what they were doing and turned to Jerry. Beau covered his face with his hands. One policeman grabbed Jerry by the neck.

"I think this is another one of 'em, sir." he said.

[end of Chapter 3]

The Adventurers, Ch. 2

2005-10-28T19:27:00.000-07:00

October 28th, 2005

Looking for Chapter One? Click HERE. And the Saga continues...

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 2

While the boy fell, another person came flying in and tackled Jerry. It was the boy with the alert eyes. They fought on the ground and finally Jerry managed to get on top of him, but before he could get a good whack at him, Jerry felt himself being lifted and thrown face down on the ground. The fall took the wind out of him and he lay there like a fish gasping for air. The boy that threw Jerry down was the one with the big arms. Jerry saw him turn to were him and the boy with the glasses had last fought.

"Hey Gus, you all right?" said the big armed boy.

Gus got up and rubbed his eye. "Yeah. I just got a little bruise." He rubbed his eye again and flinched.

At that moment, the short and wide boy came puffing in. He seemed angry. "Why didn't you guys wait for me. You know I can't run as fast as you."

"Well we didn't know where this guy would end up at after Gus caught him." said the big armed boy grinning. Then he turned to Gus. "I guess this guy gave you a real race, huh."

Gus was still rubbing his eye. "And he's also got a really knock out punch." He paused and looked at Jerry who was still on the ground, "So what do we do with him?"

"Well," the boy with the alert eyes sounded uneasy. "Maybe we can use him for the hit tonight."

"I don't know, Mark. He doesn't look like a fellow to trust," said the short and wide boy.

"Beau, we don't even know him," said Mark, a little frustrated. "Besides, he looks like he's suffered a lot, so that makes us a bit like him, doesn't it?"

"Hardly." said Beau disgustedly.

"Look, why don't we ask him stuff before we come to any conclusions, that way we'll see if he's to be trusted." Mark turned to Beau. "Is that okay with you?"

"Sure." Beau didn't sound sure. "Go ahead, Curtis."

The big armed boy moved forward toward Jerry. "Uh, tell us your name."

Jerry's pain had subsided a while ago and he was waiting to see what they'd do to him. "Jerry."

"Jerry what." barked Beau.

"Jerry." Jerry repeated.

"A smart alec, huh?" Beau clearly didn't trust Jerry.

Gus spoke up. "Beau, get real. He probably doesn't have a last name. Or do you?" He turned to Jerry.

"No. I've been an orphan since I was one, or at least that's what they tell me, so nobody knew my name."

"So how'd you end up with that name?" asked Gus.

"Pretending to be a mouse." said Jerry.

"Huh?" said Gus.

"Tell us about it." said Mark

"Okay. When I was about three, me and a friend where pretending to be Tom and Jerry. You know those cartoons about the cat and the mouse?"

Gus said, "I've heard of them."

Jerry continued, "We used to steal some of their comics from the stores in town. Me and some older kids used to sneak out at night and walk to town. Not that far from the orphanage, only about 5 miles. Anyway, I pretended to be Jerry so much that everybody started calling me and the other guy, Tom and Jerry. The name stuck to both of us."

"So what are you doing way out here. There's not a single orphanage around." asked Curtis.

"I ran away."

"What do you mean you ran away." asked Gus.

"I-ran-a-way."

"I mean, why?"

"It was too much labor and not enough food. We worked from before sun up to after sunset with only a little break for stale bread and water. They'd also whip you if you asked for more food or complained about anything. They'd even whip you if you said someone's head was shaped like an egg."

"They'd whip you for that?" Beau was starting to sound interested.

"Yep. And they were gonna send me away anyway."

"Where?" they all asked.

"To a foster home. They were gonna make me work even harder there during the summer and then I'd have to go to school and learn whatever you learn there."

"Bummer." said Beau.

"How'd you get to be such a good fighter?" asked Gus.

"The older kids always picked on us younger kids. We always tried to defend ourselved but they were too big and usually beat us up."

"At least you tried." said Beau.

"Of course."

"All right. So I guess you trust him now?" Mark asked Beau.

"I guess." Beau tried to sound casual.

"Okay, then. My name's Mark."

"I'm Beau."

"Curtis."

"Gus."

"Hi." said Jerry.

"Okay. Let's get tonight's plan going. We don't have much time before the train to town passes." said Mark.

"Don't you think Jerry should stay with someone, since he's new at this?" asked Gus.

Mark answered, "You're right. He'll go with you. Okay, tonight we're hitting on the Old Sam Market. Beau, you start a fight with Curtis. When the clerk and security guy go to break it up, Gus and Jerry are going to slip to me all the food you can get. When you hear four whistles, it's time to get the heck out of there. We all split up in different directions. Me, Gus, and Jerry will take the supplies into the woods. We'll meet in Grover street one hour later. Remember we have to surprise them twith speed or else they'll come after us before we can do anything. Any questions?"

"No Sergeant Mark, Sir." said Beau teasingly.

"Then let's get the heck over to the drop before it's too late." said Curtis.

Jerry half the time had no idea what they were talking about but they didn't give him time to ask any questions. Despite the mud and rain, all five of them moved rapidly through the trees. Even Beau stayed up at the back of the pack. Eventually they arrived at a small cliff overlooking the forest around them.

"Here it comes." said Curtis.

[end of Chapter 2]

The Adventurers, Ch. 1

2005-10-27T19:43:00.000-07:00

October 27th, 2005

My brother and I took a typing class during the summer after my 7th grade year (or was it 8th grade?), and it was a two-hour-long-busy-work kind of class. Thanks to my piano "skeeeeells" I picked up the whole typing thing pretty quickly, and usually finished the exercises with plenty of time to spare. We weren't allowed to just leave, so I was faced with the challenge of entertaining myself everyday for 30 minutes. As most of you people know, entertaining myself is what I do best (hmm...that didn't sound right). The result? A 16 page fictional novella, starring my brother as an orphan, and including several of my friends. I even added myself as one of the central characters! Every kid in this story is modeled after someone I knew back then. And thus, I now humbly present to you, dear blog travelers, that famous story...word for word, chapter by chapter (10 in all!), for your pleasure and amusement.

THE ADVENTURERS - Chapter 1

Jerry had had enough. He was going to go off and never return to this dumb orphanage. After twelve years of labor and exhaustion, he was running away.

At one o'clock in the morning, Jerry stole into the kitchen and packed himself a generous ham sandwich. He quietly went down the stairs to the back door. He didn't expect any trouble from the "Miss" but his muscles were still tense and ready to bolt. He did not want to be caught and leathered like all those other times. Out in the yard it was dark and humid. Too dark, he thought, I should have waited till a clear sky. He struggled clumsily towards the fence. As soon as he jumped the fence, he knew he was safe. He could outrun anybody in Stephen Orion Orphanage. However, it was best he go as far as possible in case they bring in the dogs.

Jerry walked towards the rising sun. He had always believed that a better place was beyond those mountains up ahead. So Jerry set out in search of a better life.

These dense woods of North Carolina were the most abundant in these parts of the region. A slight drizzle began to fall upon him and Jerry took it as a good sign. This weather always pleased him. Since he was only wearing torn jeans, T-shirt, and an old sweat jacket, he started jogging to keep warm.

After three hours of walking and jogging, Jerry stepped under a huge pine that could shelter the storm a bit. There he opened his sandwich and started eating it.

As he was chewing his second bite, he looked up and was startled to see four boys his own age advancing cautiously towards him. They looked dirty and hungry. Jerry didn't think that was a good combination. All three stood staring at him, then at his half eaten sandwich, then again at him.

Jerry took their action as "we want your sandwich and if you don't like it, we'll punch your face in and take it anyway." He looked at the biggest of them all. A tough looking, blonde, country boy with arms as big as Jerry's neck. There was also a thin but built boy with glasses who was the next tallest. He looked like he could run pretty fast, but Jerry wasn't worried about anyone catching up to him. A short but wide boy leered at Jerry. Jerry wanted to hit him. The last boy was also somewhat skinny and also short, but his eyes were fully alert and it was evident that he always knew what to do.

Jerry didn't wait for them to make a move. He bolted away sure that they could not catch up, but surprisingly the boy with glasses stayed right behind him and wouldn't quit. jerry pumped his arms harder, sure that for some reason he was not running his top speed. He struggled to go faster but he was unable to shake the boy off. His arms were becoming heavier by the second. His legs were now burning up and a quick look back informed him that the boy was also suffering. Now Jerry was forced to slow down but he wouldn't give up. The boy's crunching footsteps quickly gained on him. A hand grabbed his neck and forced him to fall on the ground. Jerry immediately got up, surprising the boy with a hard swing that hit the boy on the eye. The boy struggled backwards but stayed on his feet. Jerry swung his leg and caught the boy on the left knee.

(end of chapter 1)

Gustavo's Adventures in Foreignland

2005-10-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

October 16th, 2005

The Journey Down: And so Gustavo tumbled down the rabbit hole, where he was met by a beautiful gypsy girl. She was to be his guide on their journey through the strange and wonderful world known as FOREIGNLAND.

At the Top of the Mountain: They entered a Gondola which began to rise in the air...higher and higher and higher. It was driven by a madman who frequently asked Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl to give his friend a big hug. His friend was nowhere in sight. There were other passengers, but they seemed content in riding the gondola for all eternity...or at least until it took them back to where they had started. At the top of the mountain, Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl looked down and discovered they could see the entire world. In fact, they were so far up and could see so far out into the world that Gustavo wondered if the two dots he saw in the distance were not the back of their own selves. They were then served hot drinks by the dwellers of the mountain. The dwellers of the mountain were polite women with beards. They must have evolved into growing beards from the constant exposure to the cold mountain temperature. This was the most logical explanation. Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl left the mountain after the dweller announced that if anyone stayed any longer they would have to become mountain dwellers themselves...and grow beards.

With the Keepers of the Giant Balloons: They entered into a flat field that stretched out farther than the horizon. Here there were balloons which were growing from the ground at a tremendous rate. Upon reaching full maturity...the balloons would separate themselves from the earth, and fly into the sky...undoubtedly in search of their own adventures. The Keepers were miniature men with a strange language difficult to understand by Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl. They were curious creatures who seemed particularly interested in the beautiful gypsy girl. Their attempts at communication with her were not quite successful, mostly due to the fact that their entire language consisted of only one word: "Hot!"

In the House of the Twins: Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl then received an invitation to dine with a man named Bucca. Apparently, Bucca had heard of the stranger wandering Foreignland, and wished to extend his hospitality. Although Gustavo never actually got to see him in person, he could easily imagine Bucca to be a big Italian with a long, thick mustache, singing and playing an accordion. They were served delicious food by one of Bucca's children, who seemed to have rapid mood changes and frequent memory lapses. One minute he would be friendly and courteous. The next minute he would barely look at them and instead talk to other people in the room. The puzzle was solved when Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl witnessed Bucca's son walking to next to...Bucca's son! Gustavo deduced that all of Bucca's children were identical...maybe even Bucca himself looked like that...with the exception of the thick, long mustache, of course.

The Journey Back: The time came when Gustavo and the beautiful gypsy girl realized the rabbit hole would soon be closing. Although Gustavo wished to remain in this wonderful and magical land, he was needed back in his own world. As time was short, the beautiful gypsy girl conjured up a white rocket ship from thin air. They zoomed through the air and managed to arrive at the rabbit hole just before it began to close. Gustavo said farewell to the beautiful gypsy girl and to the magical Foreignland. They both waved back, and Gustavo climbed back up the rabbit hole...and into the end of this story.

THE END

This one is interactive!

2005-09-29T00:22:00.000-07:00

September 29th, 2005

Alright, fine. I've finally succumbed to the peer pressure...damn it.

Leave your name and a comment and...
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in. (Um, this one's dumb. New #3: I'll tell you what your superpower would be.)
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

The Truth About Mechanics

2005-09-21T16:59:00.000-07:00

September 21st, 2005

[this phone conversation took place at 11am in Phoenix, AZ between a mechanic and Gustavo]

"Hello?"

"Mr. Camacho, this is Zach from [name deleted]. We've determined the cause of your car's problem, and also ran a diagnostic test to see what else is wrong with the car."

"Eh...okay."

"We found a melted fuse on the EGR valve which we went ahead and replaced. We also had to take off the steering wheel in order to fix the clicking that happened everytime you turned the wheel. We found something in there that we have no idea what it is. We've also located a few leaks in the struts, and a big leak in your oil pan. We recommend a flush of all the fluids in your car...transmission, cooling system, power steering...they're all full of rust and other gunk. The brakes seem okay, but you might want to..."

"I just got the brake pads replaced last semester."

"Ah, yes. Okay, well the front ones are fine...the back ones may need replacement soon. You might want to do it now and get it out of the way."

"Err...how much is this going to run me?"

"Including all the parts and labor, it looks like it's going to be...$1736.00."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh...it'll be $1736.00. But that's with tax included."

"Haha. You're joking right? I can't do that. Haha. Do you realize that would be 2/3 the price of the car...5 years ago? All I want are the most essential things. What needs to get fixed for my car to just run."

"Well, everything is pretty essential."

"What about the struts?"

"Well, if we don't replace them you'll feel every bump you hit on the road."

"Yeah...that's really not a problem. Let's leave the struts out. And I'm already aware of the oil leak...I've been aware of it for 5 years...so don't do anything with that."

"Ah, yes, okay, so that leaves us..."

"And the brakes are fine. They're under guarantee at [name deleted] so they'll replace them for free."

"Hmm. Mmmhmm..."

"Look, here's what I want you to do. Just this. You've already fixed the steering wheel problem and the EGR problem. That's good. Now just do a transmission flush...just the transmission...and that should do it."

"Are you sure you don't want any of the other services? They're highly recommended..."

"If you do them I can't pay for them."

"Ah okay. So the total then comes to...err...ah...$429.00, including tax."

"That's not including the ASU student discount is it? I think ASU students get a 10% discount."

"Okay, that'll be $387.00."

"I've also got this $10 off coupon from your website...it says in the bottom I can use it for any service."

"Really? Huh. Alright, your total comes out to $377.00. You can pick up your car after 5:30pm."

"Thanks very much. What time do you close?"

"6pm."

"I'll be there at 5:55."

[click]

Tough, Immature, and Crazy: The final frontier

2005-09-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

September 18th, 2005

This is like three posts in one...prepare for pain and humiliation!!!

Topic One:

I want to be Clint Eastwood.

I want to walk into a strange town for the first time, and immediately "dispose" of several bullies that have been terrorizing the town. Then, when one of the townsfolk asks me "What did you say your name was?", I want to reply in a tough and dangerous voice "I didn't."

I want to demand things like "How fast can you get everybody out of this hotel?" And when the owner of the hotel protests "I can't do that! There are 8 people renting rooms in that hotel. I mean, where are they supposed to go?", I'll reply with the same tough and dangerous voice "Out."

I want to say things like "You see, in this world, there's two kinds of people, my friend. Those with loaded guns, and those who dig. You dig."

I want to be Clint Eastwood.

Topic Two:

I may be a Doctoral student, but I'm still fascinated by children's books. I recently discovered a new book that ranks high up in my top 10 list (but not top 5). Since I make a list for everything, here are my top 5 children's books of all time. We'll start with Number 5...

No. 5: Wayside School is Falling Down. Each chapter tells a story of a different kid in this weird and crazy Elementary school. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and I love it for that. Although at one point, when two stories interact and a kid finds a missing ear from an earlier chapter in his refrigerator...it made sense to me for 3 seconds. For 3 full seconds I comprehended the secret of Wayside School...but then I lost it...and I haven't been able to regain it ever since. Argh!

No. 4: Bridge to Terabithia. I didn't cry. No, I didn't. Men don't cry. We spit and drink beer and chop down trees with axes. Something got stuck in my eye. I have allergies. I was sweating. It was a mirage. I didn't cry.

No. 3: The Outsiders. The movie dissapointed me, but the book was written by Hinton when she was still a teenager. Basically, this book is like "Westside Story", but without the dancing, singing, and staged fighting...that's a good thing.

No. 2: The Harry Potter books. I have to admit, I'm one of those people who jumped on the bandwagon. I had never read a Harry Potter book until the first movie came out. Then I realized that, since I act like a 5 year old most of the time, I would probably enjoy reading about wizards and boggarts and big Hagrids. "Enjoy" is not the right word here...I think I've gotten to the point of fanatical obssession. Thankfully I'm not the only one, so I'm sure a support group with pop up somewhere. HPA = Harry Potter Anonymous. "Hi. My name is Har...I mean, my name is Gustavo Camacho, and I'm addicted to Harry Potter".

No. 1: Where The Red Fern Grows. Little Ann and Old Dan!!!!! No!!!!!!!!!! And that's all I have to say about that.

Topic Three:

Okay, so sue me. I jaywalked. I'm a habitual jaywalker...so what! If everybody waited for every "walk" signal we'd all need an extra hour in our day. If there are no cars what's the point of just standing there scratching your butt. So a few days ago I saw a car very far away, and I began walking across the street. When I looked at the incoming car, I noticed he was going way way waaaaaay too fast...but still he was much too far away for me to get worried. So as I step onto the sidewalk, the big, black SUV is still 50 yards away, but apparently the mad driver didn't like anything in his path that would interrupt his suicide mission because he honked three times at me and then gave me...the finger. Ruined my day.

What's wrong with the world nowadays?

On The Road to Phoenix

2005-08-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

August 29th, 2005

On The Road to Phoenix, a play by Gustavo Camacho (based on a true story)

Cast of Charachers:
Gustavo.............................an unshaved Mexican with poofy hair
Angela................................a blonde girl, friend of Gustavo
Officer Bigot......................a bigot

Act I, Scene I

A run-down highway close to Canton Mississippi. Our heroes are in the midst of a 35 hour journey back home from North Carolina. Gustavo is driving a relatively new white Honda Civic. He is driving exactly 70 mph...which is the speed limit in this forsaken state. They seem to be in good spirits despite being on their 10th hour driving.

GUSTAVO: Okay, let's try it one more time...this time I'll do the second voice and you just keep singing the main melody.

BOTH, singing: Yo soy como el chile verde, llorona, picante pero sabroso!

They laugh and continue singing. Suddenly, Angela notices a certain vehicle on the side of the road up ahead.

ANGELA: I think that's a cop up ahead.

GUSTAVO, squinting and looking ahead intently: Yeah, I think you're right. I'm not speeding. But I better slow down five miles...there's no way I'm getting a speeding ticket on this road trip.

They pass the police car. Gustavo notices in the rearview mirror that the cop has pulled off the side of the road and is now closing the gap between them.

GUSTAVO, ominously: Uh oh.

ANGELA: What's wrong?

GUSTAVO: I think the cop is following us.

ANGELA: But you weren't speeding!

GUSTAVO: Yeah, I know. Maybe he's not following us after all.

A Semi pulls up right behind the Honda Civic and starts tailing them. The police car pulls up along side Gustavo and Angela and stares at them for 5 full seconds, then puts his right turn signal and squeezes in between them and the Semi.

GUSTAVO, resigned: He's on his radio...probably calling in your license plates. I know the routine. We're getting pulled over for sure.

ANGELA: But for what?

GUSTAVO: Beats me.

Sure enough, 2 minutes later, the siren goes off. "Whooooop". Gustavo curses under his breath and immediately pulls over to the side. A big, blonde, redneck cop with a buzz haircut slowly lumbers over to the front side window. He walks as if he was auditioning for "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Part Deux." He leans down and inspects the inside of the car.

OFFICER BIGOT, sneerily: You got a license?

GUSTAVO: Yes sir.

Gustavo offers his license, but Officer Bigot ignores it.

OFFICER BIGOT: Now, my question is: Why were you going 55? Afraid of getting pulled over?

GUSTAVO, completely sure that he wasn't going 55: Err...I'm fairly sure I was going 65...

OFFICER BIGOT, interrupts jerkily: No. 55.

GUSTAVO: Eh...o-kay. Eh...sorry.

OFFICER BIGOT: Go faster. You're holding up traffic.

OFFICER BIGOT idles back to his patrol car, and without a second glance speeds away. Gustavo and Angela exchange a few "What the...?" looks.

GUSTAVO: I wasn't going 55.

ANGELA: And even if you were going 55, that's your business. The minimum speed limit is 45. You can go 55 if you darn well please. If you were an older white man driving 55 mph I'll bet you he'd never have given you a second look.

GUSTAVO: I hate Mississippi. It's now my least favorite state.

ANGELA: Ditto. That was just ridiculous.

Our heroes continue on their way to Phoenix, and now everytime Gustavo sees a police car he makes sure and goes exactly the speed limit...EXACTLY!!!

Moral of the Story: While driving through Mississippi...be an older white male.

The Final thought of the Week

2005-08-15T12:46:00.000-07:00

August 15th, 2005

No. 5 and Final:

No bed...no internet...no cable. I'm like a caveman...except smarter...and I don't carry a club around.

Thought of the Week No. 4

2005-08-02T10:46:00.000-07:00

August 2nd, 2005

No. 4,
Welcome to the day when I can now rent cars at normal rates.
Welcome to the day when a quarter of a century no longer feels like a historical era.
Welcome to the greatest day in the history of the world.
My name is Gustavo Camacho, and today is my birthday.

Thought of the Week No. 3

2005-07-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

July 17th, 2005

No. 3: I am currently in the deep of the thick Brevardian Jungle. I am writing this using my makeshift computer. It's made of a combination of sticks, mud, and rock. I wait for a stormy day and then hold out a key in the air for lightning to strike and power up the comp. It's much easier to get lightning when I'm up in my tree hut. It's hard to sleep at night because the panthers growl louder at night. This is the fifth day that they're down there. Apparently they don't like me too much. I may have to start eating gnats soon. The slugs will only last at most two more days. The birds up here think I'm a monkey.

Thought of the Week No.2

2005-07-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

July 11th, 2005

No. 2: I know that with all the tropical storms coming through here I should really invest in an umbrella. But I have so much fun running from tree to tree, from shelter to shelter, that it would be a crime against my sense of adventure to spend $10 on a cheap umbrella. Therefore, I shall remain umbrella-less and [cue the heroic music] I will face the rain on my own terms: with Courage and Defiance...mano a mano. Garrrrr!!!!!!

Thought of the Week No. 1

2005-06-29T20:09:00.000-07:00

June 29th, 2005

Due to my limited amount of internet access in the next few months, my entries will now consist of a series of "thought of the week" one liners. Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, Indroducing THOUGHT OF THE WEEK NO. 1:

No. 1: Mosquitos love Mexican Food.

The Ultimate Road Trip Begins...

2005-06-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

June 13th, 2005

I know, I know. I was supposed to leave earlier this morning, but due to circumstances beyond my control (okay, fine, it was nobody's fault but mine...everybody happy?) I had to stay up kind of late last night. So now I'm looking at a 2,000 mile course to tackle in 48 hours. Obviously, I'll have a driving buddy so that we can switch every 400 miles or so. But as all long trips go, this one has the potential to get reallllly tiring, unless I take stuff to do. So, without further ado, here are my top 5 favorite things to do on a long road trip:

1) Listen to music, of course. Preferably not from the radio, because when you're out in the middle of nowhere sometimes the only station you get is the Tejano station...you know which one I mean...the one with the tuba going "Pom...pom-pom-pom...pom-pom-pom...pom-pom-pom". Thankfully the car I'm going in has a CD player, so I have my collection of...mmm...20 CD's which I'm taking with me.

2) Sleep. On a long trip like this, the best thing to do when not driving is to prepare for your next turn driving, which means you have to rest and catch some winks...maybe dream of swimming in huge teacups filled with all kinds of different teas (right, Erynn?). Let your imagination run wild!!

3) Play the "Who am I?" game with your driving buddy. Pick a famous person...or I guess it could be anything (the rules are flexible if you're like me and make up everything)...and then the other person has 20 chances to ask you "yes/no" questions.

4) Play the...well, I don't know what it's called. You pick a letter of the alphabet and then take turns naming every word you can think of that starts with that letter. And if you get stuck, just make up a word and then say, "check the dictionary if you don't believe me". Chances are, there won't be a dictionary in the car, so nothing can be proven. The trick is to act outraged that someone would accuse you of cheating.

5) Stare into space.

Okay, I'm off in a few minutes. Remember kids...be cool, stay in school!

Friends, Countrymen, Bloggers, Lend me your ears!!

2005-06-11T12:07:00.000-07:00

June 11th, 2005

In my line of work (or future work), it is inevitable for me to occasionally come into contact with a secret society, whose name I will reveal at the end of this post. These guys are surrounded by a mystery so well-guarded, it almost makes you think they use some sort of black magic. In many occasions...and by "many" I mean twice...I have tried to gain membership into this esteemed secret society. But alas, any type of inquiry into the matter only brings scowls, mis-information, and hostility.

I experienced this at my own house, with the visit of a secret society member. He was very polite and very friendly the entire visit...until I asked him how I could learn their secret skill. Immediately his attitude changed from outgoing friendliness to unconceiled anger. He said, in harsher words, that there were only two ways: 1) Attend their secret society academy in NY..."the only one in the world", he said, and 2) be taken in as an apprentice by a seasoned member of the society (Does this remind anyone of Star Wars?). Then he went on to tell me that it would take even the most talented apprentice many many years to even learn the basics of the art. Most students don't even get through the program, and that I shouldn't even waste my time.

Well, screw that! Nobody tells me what I can or can't do! Only miserable failure tells me that. So I took matters into my own hand, and began doing the research (google). After much searching and reading, I found all the necessary information. All that was left was to put my plan into action. I bought the tools necessary from an underground source (who shall remain anonymous), and began practicing my new skill. Although telling you this information may result in hostility towards me, I shall risk my life and divulge exactly what you need for this skill. Here are the tools necessary:

1) A tuning hammer
2) A few tuning wedges
3) A chromatic tuner
4) A long cloth (not pictured)
5) A good ear - preferably with a person attached (not pictured)

The Secret Tools

So okay, you may have figured out by now which secret society I'm talking about. No, not the Priory of Sion. This society is even more secretly guarded than that. I'm talking about the secret world of...piano tuners...shhhhhhhhhhh!

I can't say that I've mastered the art yet. Once you get to a certain point it becomes easy. But the hard thing is tuning the first two octaves (you should start with the middle of the piano), because you have to tune it according to the tempered scale. Which means, every interval has to be tuned slightly out of tune...perfectly out of tune (if you want to know my method of doing this, just ask me...it's too long and boring to put it on here). Once you have that, then the going is easy, because you can just tune the octaves of the piano, up and down, up and down.

The pianos I've tuned so far have been acceptable, not great. But it's definitely not as difficult as those guys made it out to be. Of course, I know they're just protecting their job security. Due to the lack of piano tuners in this world, they've been living the life of luxury because they charge like demons for one visit. Obviously, the more piano tuners there are, the more competitive their prices have to be. They don't want that life to end. But still, refusing to divulge any information on the subject seems greedy and selfish and downright mean.

Therefore, piano tuners beware! I have put on my armor, raised my sword, and am ready to charge forward and fight this war, with no thought to consequences!

Gaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!

P-R-E-S-S-U-R-E

2005-06-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

June 6th, 2005

My favorite TV commercial is the one that shows up on ESPN. They're advertising this year's Spelling Bee, and the commercial consists of a bunch of different shots of kids spelling out words. But each kid only says one letter, starting with "P", and then the screen switches to another kid, who says, "...R...". It's not until the end of the commercial that you realize what they just spelled, "P-R-E-S-S-U-R-E". Haha, oh man! that made me laugh!

I'm sure most of my friends would be surprised if I told them that once opon a time I competed in the Spelling Bee. That was in 5th grade...my third year living here in the US. My brother and I always liked to do things together, and when he told me his teacher picked him to enter the Spelling Bee, I of course wanted to do the same. The problem was that my teacher only invited those students who were good at spelling (well, duh!), and I was not a good speller. So during class while the teacher was calling out names in class and asking them if they would like to enter the Spelling Bee, she completely skipped my name. Not to be outdone, I raised my hand and said with a tone of defiance, "I would like to enter the Spelling Bee". I still remember the expression on her face when I said that...I laugh out loud when I think of it. She just didn't know what to say! Here was a punk kid who was only mediocre (at best) at spelling, and was demanding to be allowed to enter the Spelling Bee. Unheard of!!!!! So she finally stammered, "Oh. Umm...uh....O-okay."

So the day of the Spelling Bee came. I lost in the third round with the word "Ballerina". Yes, "Ballerina". But in my defense, it was only my third year speaking English. And I spelled it, "B-A-I-...." because that's how you spell it in Spanish. Oh well, excuses excuses. My brother on the other hand, WON the entire thing and got a trophy and everything!!! He went on to the City Spelling Bee and made a good showing (even spelled Zucchini right!). He graduated from Rice University and just this past year got a job with Microsoft, in Seattle. My brother is wicked smart!!! But I still dominate him in Backgammon...bwahahaha!

While watching this year's Spelling Bee on TV, I was amazed at the words these kids were spelling. EXSICCOSIS, ORNITHORHYNCHOUS, SPHYGMOMANOMETER. When one of the kids (who tied for 2nd) was given the word, "ONYCHOPHAGY", he asked the judge, "Is that the medical term for when nails are bitten enough to become deformed?" And it was!

But my moment of glory came when the final word was given to the kid that won. It was APPOGGIATURA. Ha! Appoggiatura! Every music student knows that word, because they pound it in our heads during our Freshman and Sophomore theory classes. So I may not have even been able to pronounce any of the other words, but I KNEW THE WINNING WORD!!!

I am the smartest man alive!!!!

Dream Log #1: The "Excellent Adventure" Dream

2005-06-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

June 3rd, 2005

Begin Dream Log #1

I'm riding in the middle row of a van, apparently with a bunch of people my age. One of the guys behind me is called Ted. How do I know this? Everybody is talking to him and saying, "Ted, hey Ted", "Yo, Ted", "Ted, man", "Ted". So there's no mistaking it, this guy's name is Ted.

When I turn around and see his face, I am suddenly 100% sure that I've seen him before. But where? Where do I know this guy from? It's pretty obvious he doesn't remember me, so I say, "So....Ted." Everybody goes quiet and listens intently to my next words. I'm trying to think of a way to tactfully ask him if I know him from somewhere. I say, "uh....so ah....Ted, what's your last name?"

Ted seems to be confused by the question. He scratches his chin and he cocks his head to the side. Then he says, "Well, I'll tell ya. That's kind of a complicated question." Then his face brightens up and he says, "But yes. I am that Ted from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure."

Except it wasn't Ted, it was Bill!! I recognized him immediately from the movie. It all fit: surfer dude accent, curly blonde mop on his head, idiot expression on his face....

And that's all I remember. Or maybe the dream ended there. Dreams are funny that way. If you don't write it down just after you wake up, you forget basically everything. Since I have weird dreams basically every night, I've made it a habit to repeat the dream in my head as soon as I wake up, that way at least a few details will remain in my mind.

End Dream Log #1

WASPS: the bullies of the insect world

2005-05-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

May 29th, 2005

Why am I scared to death of WASPS?

Picture this: You're walking down a beautiful green forest, enjoying the smell of the pines, the coolness of the breeze on your skin, the wild sounds of nature... Only one thing is keeping this moment from being among the most calming and relaxing moments of your life. It's this damn FLY that keeps buzzing by your ear. IT zips once by your ear...

"BZZZZZZZZZZZZZT"

You swat with your hand...but only succeed in boxing your ear. It hurts. You think maybe you scared IT away...this bastard INSECT that has ruined your moment of perfect serenity...but a moment later you hear IT again, and this time IT seems to go right into your ear!

"BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT."

Again, your hand automatically goes for your ear and attempts to swat the THING away. But this FLY is a ghost, a phantom, an apparition...perhaps even a figment of your wandering imagination. However, you now focus your mind solely on this problem, and your hand is ready as the third

"BZZZZZZZZZZZT"

happens. Your reaction is quicker than you expected. Like a deadly gunslinger drawing his gun from its holster, your hand rises and...makes contact!!! But instantly your mind tells you that something is not right. Your hand made contact with something that either was a fly on steroids, or was not a fly at all. The next few seconds are in slow motion. Your head turns to see what kind of devilish THING you've just made angry. The corner of your eye catches SOMETHING obviously bigger than a fly...something black...with a hint of yellow...

and IT is flying straight at your face!

Your legs begin moving forward, but you're in slow motion...you're no match for a BEING who lives life in fast forward. As your head starts to turn back to the direction your legs are running, you know you're only postponing the inevitable. The sting comes in the middle of your yell...

"SHIIIIIII--OWWWWW!!!!!"

Okay, back to normal speed. Oh, the pain! Your fists clench, your teeth gnash, your feet stamp. But what can you do? Nothing. Just take it like a man. But you're not a man...you're only 12 years old. You're not just a boy. You're a young boy. The tears start to well up in your eyes, but you fight them back. Somebody at some point told you "Tough Boys Don't Cry". This thought is embedded in you now, and has been in you since you could walk. But you almost abandon it...all because of one INSECT, barely even the size of a peanut.

In the end, your mom puts baking soda on the large, raw-red bump on your neck. It doesn't help...it still burns. But the potential for tears is gone. Now you're just furious. Furious that the heinous CULPRIT is still out there, bullying other creatures that are only out enjoying life. A bee dies after it stings you. A WASP just laughs at your pain. Why couldn't it be the other way around?

I hate WASPS.

The Magic 8-Ball Tells No Lies

2005-05-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

May 18th, 2005

It is time to find the truth. I will now ask all my questions to the wisest being in the universe: MY MINIATURE MAGIC 8-BALL.

Gus: Do Brussell Sprouts really come from Hell?
Magic 8-Ball: Rely on it. (I figured as much)

Gus: Does my brother run faster than me?
Magic 8-Ball: Ask Later. (errr...okay)

Gus: Does my brother run faster than me?
Magic 8-Ball: I say Yes. (I say No)

Gus: Does my brother run faster than me?
Magic 8-Ball: Doubt It. (better)

Gus: Will I ever buy my own Island which includes a castle?
Magic 8-Ball: I say Yes. (good news)

Gus: Will I have a great time at my new Condo?
Magic 8-Ball: Rely on it. (that's just common sense)

Gus: How many fingers am I holding up?
Magic 8-Ball: Sorry No. (How did it know!?!?!)

Gus: Will I live to see a colonization of an alien planet?
Magic 8-Ball: Looks Good. (...)

Gus: Will the Phoenix Suns win the NBA Finals?
Magic 8-Ball: Sorry No. (Magic 8-Ball, you're full of crap)

Gus: Is there a better Ice Cream Flavor than Dulce de Leche?
Magic 8-Ball: Rely On It (Gasp!)

Gus: Magic 8-Ball, are you full of crap?
Magic 8-Ball: No Doubt. (No Doubt)

Hmmm...these revelations leave me with a lot to think about.

"Hello, I'm Gus' Magic 8-Ball. Look upon me and DESPAIR!!!"

All-American Picture Frenzy, Old Lady Drivers, and the Rogue Turtle

2005-05-14T10:30:00.000-07:00

May 14th, 2005

My good friend Shona is going back to Scotland very soon. We're all going to miss her very much, and hope that she doesn't forget about us lowly peasants. She taught me quite a bit about speaking Scottish. What, you don't think there's a scottish language? Of course there is...examples: Hah-rree Pot-eh (Harry Potter), Scuh-tish (Scottish), Trousers (Pants), Mah-ee Mah-eend (My Mind). The list goes on. Next year I'm supposed to take one of the three major research foreign languages (Italian, French, or German), and I was sad that Scottish...excuse me, "Scuh-tish"...was not there. I may have to start a petition in order to get this on the list.

Speaking of phonetics, while I was GRADUATING two days ago, they gave us a card and told us to spell out our name phonetically on it. I can see how it could be useful for names like Xianjindao Quezaltepeque. But I think my name is pretty straight forward, unless someone's been living under a cow-boot and has never heard Spanish before. So anyway, this is how I spelled it, "Goose-Tah-Boh Kah-Mah-Tchoh". When I went on the stage and the name-calling-guy read my card, his face scrunched up and he gave me a weird look. But then he said it fine, which means he probably ignored my phonetic spelling. Good man!

And speaking of Shona leaving to Scotland and of GRADUATING, I was able to take a picture of my graduation thanks to the brand new digital camera (new to me, anyway) that Shona gave me. She said she already had a better one. I'm excited because this is the first time I've ever owned a camera, much less a digital one where I can take as many pictures as I want because I won't be wasting film. So I went on a picture taking frenzy for the past two days, and I've realized one thing: I'm a terrible photographer. But some came out okay.

you may now call me "MASTER"

2005-05-14T10:27:00.001-07:00

Right now I'm living pretty good at a nice, large house in a pretty and quiet neighborhood. But it's too far from ASU, and I'm tired of having to wake up 30 minutes before the rest of the world just so I can get parking in the morning. Plus, I hate fighting morning traffic and get really frustrated at red lights. Being at a red light is the biggest waste of time in the world. Really, all you do at a red light is stare into space and think one thought: "green...green...green...come on!...green...green...green...YES!". I've recently started keeping my harmonica in my car and playing it at red lights. Apparently playing a harmonica at a red light is not considered "the norm" in the social structure of today's world. People look at me funny, but I just stare at them and play louder. Anyway, I've decided to move closer to the university with my friend Ian (cool and crazy bassoon player). We found the greatest place to live...a super nice condo only 2 minutes away from ASU. And since now I have a camera to play around with, I took a picture so that everyone who reads this blog can be jealous of my future life in luxury.

My New Condo for Next Year

2005-05-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

As I was walking out the front door of my house to do a gig, I happened to glance down at the floor, and was completely surprised to find myself on the verge of stepping on a huge turtle! It was a deep green, about the size of a football. Apparently it had crawled to the house from the lake across the road. I can just imagine such a cool story about this turtle: The Rogue Turtle who didn't fit into the slow routine of normal daily turtle life. So it decided to take matters into its own [paws?] and left the safe haven of Lake Dobson to find adventure and travel the world (in this case, my neighborhood). I guess my part of the story is when it meets and befriends a savage giant living in a cave. I really wanted to take a picture of him/her/it, but didn't have time just then. I waited till I came back from my gig ($200 richer), but by that time it had moved on to bigger and more dangerous adventures. So to the Rogue Turtle, I bid you well and good luck finding what you're looking for.

I used to say that one of my pet peeves was old lady drivers. Those who can barely see above the steering wheel, and whose eyesight is so bad that they have to tilt their heads back and squint all the time. But today I was driving and stopped at a red light right next to one of these old lady drivers. True, she was slow and turned on her right blinker before turning left and cut off some guy behind her. But at the red light she looked so cute...I had to take a picture. And before you ask (or after, in Shona's case), she's not flipping someone off...she's just shading her eyes from the sun.

Old Lady Driving Next to Me

The Justice Brothers

2005-05-06T09:40:00.000-07:00

May 6th, 2005

Finally, the blog entry everyone's been waiting for. The true story and origin of...The Justice Brothers.

The year was 1989, and the day was painfully hot. Walking home through the barren desert every day after school was NOT Gus and Jerry's idea of fun. But the school had sent a note home to their parents a few weeks ago which stated that "English tutoring after school would be beneficial to their grades". They understood that it was probably true. They were starting their second year in the United States, and their English was somewhere between poor and ultra poor.

Jerry was in 5th grade, and almost 6-inches taller than his younger brother Gus. Although later they would look completely different, in those years people would sometimes yell out, "Look mom! Twins". They were obviously not twins, but they had several similarities that made people think this. For one, they both wore mad-scientist-like large frame glasses, which covered up almost the entire top half of their faces. Their unruly brown hair was cut the same style, and was the same length because their father believed himself a barber. He did do a good job, though, especially considering "barbering" was not his chosen career path. They carried around identical backpacks, and usually wore similar jeans.

Walking home that day after their English Tutoring Class, the desert seemed abandoned, except for a small group of kids who seemed to be play-wrestling in the sand. As Gus and Jerry got closer, however, they realized that the situation was more serious than they had thought. They observed four boys pushing and shoving and pulling the hair of two blonde haired girls. They appeared to be sisters, as one of them was much shorter, and the taller one seemed to be trying to protect her. Gus and Jerry had intended to just go around the group, but when they realized what was happening, they both stopped in mid-step and turned towards the group. One of the boys, apparently the leader of the group, grabbed the older sister and kicked her between the legs. She fell down on her knees and began sobbing loudly. Gus and Jerry looked at each other for a split second, and then began walking slowly towards the group. They were scared, no doubt about it. But the scene they had just witnessed was unacceptable. Perhaps they had watched one too many superhero movies, or perhaps they knew what it felt like to be bullied. Whatever the reason, they began to walk towards the group with the full intention of stopping the boys from hurting the girls any further.

The boy who had kicked the older sister finally caught sight of Gus and Jerry from the corner of his eye, and turned to them.

"What are YOU looking at?" He said accusingly. The other boys turned their heads towards Gus and Jerry in surprise.

Gus was not sure what to do at this point, and looked to his older brother for guidance. Jerry knew exactly what he had to do. Without hesitation, Jerry placed his backpack down, took off his glasses, and set them down on top of his backpack. Glasses were expensive and he didn't want them broken during a fight. Gus followed his brother's actions, and did the same. The bullies realized this was going to turn into a fight, and they began to get nervous, even though they outnumbered their opponents 4 to 2.

To this day, nobody knows who threw the first rock, but all of a sudden, the desert became the setting for a furious rock fight. This was obviously not to the advantage of the two brothers, because they couldn't see a thing without their glasses. They were starting to think that maybe taking off their glasses was not a good idea. But it was too late, they had to continue. They threw rocks blindly into the blurry shapes of the boys 30 yards away. A large rock landed in front of Gus, rolled and hit Gus on the ankle bone. Gus wanted to cry out in pain and hold his stinging ankle, but that would mean letting the other boys know that he had been hurt. So he swallowed his pain and furiously threw more rocks...larger rocks.

Gus and Jerry had no idea if any of their rocks were hitting their targets, but a few minutes later the boys began to retreat up a hill. This was a strategy move...because now they'd be throwing rocks from a higher vantage point. Gus and Jerry foolishly pursued them, and Gus, still furious from the rock that had hit his ankle, suddenly raced forward and up the hill. He felt rocks whizz by his ear...heard the "zzzzzipppp" as they grazed his skin. Miraculously he made it to the to the top without a mark. But at the top of the hill he realized his mistake...he was now facing four boys with handfuls of rocks...alone! However, as normal bullies go, they are brave only when they go unchallenged. Once challenged, they lose their nerve and run away with their tails between their legs. The boys could have easily overtaken Gus, but they turned on their heels and ran away without turning back.

"Victory!", the brothers thought.

Gus threw one final rock at their backs, and then blinked several times. He had sand in his eyes, and they hurt. He slowly walked down the hill to his brother. They were both shaking from the adrenaline that had been coursing through their bodies. Together they walked to their backpacks and glasses. They were now worried about something else. The girls were probably going to talk to them. Gus didn't know how to talk to girls...he always froze up and became a mute. Jerry wasn't any better. The girls met them at their backpacks. They were of similar age, and the younger one wore horn-rimmed glasses. The older sister smiled shyly and said, "Thank you." Jerry somehow managed to return a lopsided grin, which kind of scared the girls. Gus just stood there, wide eyed and staring, trying to blend in with the environment. After an awkward silence, the brothers picked up their things, and with their best old-western cowboy impressions, they nodded at the girls, and walked off into the sunset. The girls remained standing, staring at the backs of the brothers as they walked away. Then they turned and left, in another direction, never to see their silent rescuers ever again.

The rest of the walk home for Gus and Jerry went by in a flash. They were both walking on air, and discussing what they had just done. They had the feel of superheros and wanted a name for themselves. A few names were thrown around, until finally they decided on a name. That name has lived through Camacho family history, and the story will be told and retold for generations to come. There will never be another story as The Legend of the Justice Brothers.

I'm a NWS finalist!!

2005-04-28T22:49:00.000-07:00

April 28th, 2005

Today was going like any other day: Practice, theory, class, lunch. But right after the Chinese Food (I went to a great little place called Wong's), I checked my e-mail and noticed a message from the New World Symphony. I auditioned for them in LA (my second blog entry "No Wonder the Lakers Suck", for those who want to read about it) about 2 months ago, and hadn't heard from them since. I had completely forgot about them. The subject of the message was "NWS audition results". I started to get excited. I opened the message and eagerly read the following:

"Dear Gustavo,

On Behalf of Michael Tilson Thomas and the staff of the New World Symphony, I want to thank you for auditioning. After reviewing your audition with the committee, I am pleased to inform you that you have been advanced to the finalist pool for the 2005-2006 season. Our policy is to limit the number of NWS finalists on any given instrument, so you are part of a select group of musicians.

Members of the finalist pool are the first players who will be called to "sub" as additional personnel to augment the orchestra for larger works or to replace musicians taking time off.

Any time you sub with the orchestra, NWS will provide air transportation, housing, and a stipend."

So yeah!!!!

The Billion Dollar Question...

2005-04-23T11:14:00.000-07:00

April 23rd, 2005

I was watching an unmentionable TV show the other day (unmentionable because I'm embarrassed to admit that I was watching trash like that), and they were talking about what people would do if they had a billion dollars. A billion dollars is a LOT of money...you'd have to spend an insane amount of money each day for the rest of your life in order to even get to the halfway mark of spending it all. Since it's Saturday and I have nothing better to do, I've decided to spend some time and think about all the extravagant things I would buy if I had a billion dollars.

First thing's first, though. I'd take care of my family. Each of my siblings would receive 10 millions dollars...except my brother. He'll only get 5 million. Just kidding Jerry. My parents would get 50 million...and that's still probably not enough compensation for putting up with us all these years. A few close friends of mine would receive some hush hush money (hush hush because I don't want to get anybody jealous).

Okay, now I can get to the good stuff...

A PRIVATE ISLAND...$650,000. Private Islands are actually for sale all over the world, and range from a mere $25,000 to $22 million. I've done some research (googled a few times) and the one I've got my eye on is this one: Castle Island. It's a beautful Island just off the coast of Ireland. IT COMES WITH A CASTLE!!!

JAMES BONDS' CAR...$120,000. More specifically, it's called the Aston Martin V8 Vantage (2006). I know, I know, I can't drive it around my island. But I would keep it on the mainland and use it during my occasional secret missions.

A GRAND PIANO...$132,000. But not just any grand piano. This one was customized to look like the piano that Chopin (my favorite piano composer) used to play on. It's called the Bosendorfer Chopin Grand Piano. It may be a little pricy for a piano, but hey! i've got a billion dollars!!!

A SAIL BOAT...$1,700,000. I supposed I'll need something to get me to and from my secret James Bond missions in the mainland. This 257' Barkentine will do just fine.

BAGPIPES...$5,000. Yes, Bagpipes! Granted, I don't actually play the bagpipes. But I've always wanted to learn, but the price of bagpipes is always a put-offer. I like these Highland Bagpipes.

HORSES...$50,000. I don't know the first thing about horses. All I know is that they're awesome and I want to learn to ride a horse. And the best thing about getting horses is that I get to name them. So here they are, Storm Chaser and Shadow Dancer (I know, cheesy names...but it's MY dream not yours!).

I could add many more things...but that's all I'll put for now. Mainly because I'm hungry and chinese food suddenly seems much more enticing than writing in my blog.

The Great Recording Disaster

2005-04-19T09:03:00.000-07:00

April 19th, 2005

Observation: Recording a CD is FRUSTRATING!!

Hypothesis: I spent the entire morning trying to record a CD for an audition I want to take with the West Point Academy Band. Before they invite you to take the audition you have to send them a CD of your playing, a resume, and a full body picture (to make sure you meet the physical requirement). As usual, I procrastinated, and missed the deadline (it was last Friday), but I e-mailed the guy and he gave me an extension, but said it HAD to be in by Wednesday...which is tomorrow.

Data Collected: I don' t have a full body picture of myself, so I had to ask a friend to take one with his digital camera. He took it backstage after a concert we did, and I didn't realize what a dump it is behind all the dazzle and razzle of a concert hall. It looks like I'm in a wearhouse that has just been victim to a tornado. I guess I should have picked my background a little better. No biggie, the important thing was the CD.

So I was doing my recording, and finally played a take of my solo that I was happy with. Really happy with. As soon as I finished it I said, "Yes! That was it! That was the take!" Then I went to check on the recording equipment, and I realized the damn thing had stopped recording a while before!! It only recorded 7 minutes of my playing! Argh!!!!! Anyway, I turned it back on again, and tried to record the rest of the pieces and then my solo again, but they just didn't come off as well as they had earlier. The recording is riddled with me swearing and yelling during the music. I had to edit out things like, "I missed one [bleep] note! One [bleep] note!" and "Damn you, Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!". I'm pretty sure comments like those wouldn't sit well with an audition committee.

Analysis of Results: Now it may not have been the ideal audition CD, but it was still pretty good, so I was gonna send it anyway. My friend helped me out with transferring all the music from mini disc player to real CD. But...he forgot to put in the beginning 7 minutes...which had the best first half of my solo. So I decided to wait for this morning for him to send it to me over the internet. But when I got it the thing kept skipping beats...which is of course not good. I thought it was because he sent it as an mp3 file. So I got it again as a wave file, and the same thing is happening. So at this point I began to realize that the problem doesn't lie with the mode of delivery, but rather with the source...the mini disc player. I was screwed.

Conclusion: I don't have a recording of the first half of my solo. I suck.

Gustavo's 2nd

2005-04-17T22:41:00.000-07:00

April 17th, 2005

Okay, okay, after 20 billion people complained that my last quiz was unfair (sore losers), here's a less tricky one. And I don't want to hear anymore whining!

http://www.quizyourfriends.com/yourquiz_IM.php?quizname=050418012718-152161

The Snooze Button is THE DEVIL

2005-04-14T14:34:00.000-07:00

April 14th, 2005

Somebody recently said to me, "The snooze button is the greatest invention of all time." I'm gonna have to go ahead and disagree with this statement. Although I use it frequently, this so called "miracle button" has done absolutely nothing to improve my life or my happiness. In fact, I could go as far as to say it has had a downright negative effect on my productivity as a human being.

The problem is that the snooze button only lets you sleep for exactly 9 minutes, before rudely pulling you out of that blissful sleep. Apparently, some "genius" decided to make the snooze last for 9 minutes instead of 10, that way you'll gain 1 minute everytime you decide to use it. Another problem is that in the immediate few seconds after waking up, we are the dumbest version of ourselves. So we always think, "Oh, I can get a few more minutes of sleep. Even though last night I set my alarm for the latest time possible while still being able to get ready for the day, I think I have a better grasp of the situation now". So we waste a few more minutes in unsatisfied sleep until we wake up with a start and realize we have to be somewhere in 20 minutes...but it'll take us 40 minutes to get there. And why do I say "unsatisfied sleep"? Because, frankly, 9 minutes of sleep does absolutely nothing for me. After 9 minutes, it seems like you're doing the exact same thing...moaning, cursing, and wishing for "10 more minutes of sleep".

So I wanted to find someone to blame for the hundreds of hours I've wasted of my life due to this device. I did a little research (okay...not really research...just googled a few times), and I found the culprit, the hated denizen who invented the snooze button. His name is Lew Wallace, and apparently he also wrote "Ben-Hur". Am I serious? Yes. I'm serious. That is what the internet said, and as we all know: "the internet never lies". So if you're ever having a conversation and the topic of "Ben-Hur" pops up, you should say, "I spitttt on theeee ye Snooze Inventing Mongrrrel".

I'm not saying a snooze button is a bad idea...the bad idea is the short time it lasts. I want a snooze button that lasts for 2 hours and calls in sick for me. Hmm, maybe that's how I'll get my millions of dollars. I'll have to look into it.

Chuck E. Cheese Rat VS Telemarketing Guy

2005-04-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

April 8th, 2005

It is the day of my recital, and so I'm taking the morning off. But now I have to keep my mind occupied so that I don't think about it too much. And "voila", a new blog entry has been created.

I believe I may have had some of the worst job experiences any college student can have. Some I got fired from, some I quit. Here is the countdown of the top 5 worst jobs I've ever had:

5. Okay, we'll start with a job I enjoyed at first. For three years I was a light/sound technician at my undergrad music school. It was kind of a nice job. I got to listen to concerts for free. I had a good boss who was bitter at the world and the high paying administrative positions that he never got. But after three years of doing the same thing I got bored, and finally decided to quit and go instead to the No. 4 worst job:

4. Officially, my position was, "Medical Records Clerk". Unofficially, my position was, "Doctor's Bitch". If a doctor or nurse lost a file, it was our fault. If there was some kind of paperwork problem, it was our fault. If a doctor made a mistake, it was our responsibility to catch it and correct it. If a doctor wanted some breakfast, "Just tell one of the Medical Records People to do a breakfast burrito run." The Medical clinic social culture is really segregated. The doctors NEVER speak to Medical Records unless they can't find a chart. And then the only sentence they use is, "Get me this chart NOW!". There was no respect. True, they're the ones with the diplomas. If you've ever seen ER, have you ever seen a Medical Records person? I haven't. Why? Because they are considered dirt under the doctor's fingers, not even important enough to write a small supporting character role. Grrrr. The nurses were nice though. It's like they felt pity for us.

3. As a Sophomore in college I was a pretty bad budget manager. So suddenly I found myself in desperate need of money (I ate nothing but Ramen noodles for a month!). So while i was going to school and fulfilling my position as a work-study at the school, I was forced to get a job flipping burgers...at Whataburger...during the graveyard shift. From 11 pm to 5:30 am I'd flip-burger-myself to the farthest point of boredom, and beyond. Then go home, sleep for an hour or two, and if I was lucky catch my 8:30 theory class. Then I'd normally skip Acoustical Physics and go take a shower instead, since I had more classes later. Somehow I managed a "B" in Physics. Considering I only showed up for the exams, that's incredible! But that whole year is still a blur to me. All I remember is walking around like a zombie during the day, and flipping burgers, bored to death at night.

2. As if being a pizza cook for Chuck E. Cheese wasn't bad enough, every Saturday I had to get into the rankiest smelling 40 pound "Rat Suit", and then prance around the store pretending to like children. Those kids were THE DEVIL. Some would grab my butt and then run away laughing. Others would latch unto my leg and say "I love you Chuck E." And I'd end up dragging them everywhere because you couldn't pry them off unless you had a crowbar! And some would taunt, "come on Chuck E. Say something. Come on." Many times I thought about breaking the rule of silence and saying, "I eat children." Every Saturday of the entire summer of '98 I was the rat for 6 hours. And this job is only at No. 2! That's because the No. 1 worst job I've ever had is:

1. [excerpt from Gus' life as a telemarketer]

Gus: "Hi, my name is Gus Camacho calling on behalf of AT&T's long distance service. Now, the reason for my call is to let you know about AT&T's long distance service, PLUS a grrrrrrrrrreat customer bonus. And to show you personally how it can lower your long distance phone bill. Now, which long distance company are you currently with?"
Customer: "You interrupted my dinner. What the $%#@ is wrong with you?"
Gus: "And approximately how much do you spend on your phone bill each month."
Customer: "Go to hell!"
Gus: "And when do you prefer to make your calls? The evenings, weekends perhaps?"
Cusomer: "I hate you"
Gus: "Okay, great!! Based on the information you have just provided for me we have a great plan available for you, it's called the 5 cent Sunday plan, and what this plan does is..."
[Customer hangs up]
[New customer comes on line immediately]
Gus: "Hi, my name is Gus Camacho calling on behalf of AT&T's long distance service, now the reason for my call is..."

That's right I was a hated telemarketer. Why? I needed a summer job and the company was like 2 minutes from my house...walking, and they paid $8/hour. Everyday was sooooo monotonous. The typical day went like this: Call, get cussed out, call, get cussed out, call, get cussed...etc. Until finally you'd run accross an incredibly nice old lady and then confuse her and take advantage and make a sale. I felt horrible everytime that happened, even worse than when people would cuss me out (which happened all the time).

So finally, the day came when I got up, put on my slacks, shirt and tie, and sat on my couch waiting for the time to go to my hellish job. And I thought, "Hmm. I don't think I'll go today." We were allowed three "strikes" before you got fired, so I figured it'd be okay. The next day the same thing happened...I got dressed and after sitting on the couch dreading my time to go to work, I decided to not go again. Finally, the third day, I got dressed, sat on the couch, and finally decided never to go back to that hell-hole ever again. I actually never got a notice saying that I was fired. For all I know, they still have me on their database.

If you think you've had a worst job than me, post it as a comment. I will sympathize.

For those about to fail my quiz miserably, I salute you!

2005-04-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

April 3rd, 2005

In less than one week I have my final masters recital followed immediately by my masters comprehensive exam. Right now I should be either practicing or studying. But like many other college students, I have been infected with the age old disease known in medical journals as PROCRASTINATION. Scientists today are still looking for a cure for this heinous illness, but progress is slow. For those of you who take pity on me, I am currently accepting donations. Although the money will not cure my procrastination, it will buy me some very nice Oakley's. You may write the check out to "Gus is the greatest".

I have further wasted my time and created a quiz for anyone who reads this blog. You think you know me? You don't know me. YOU DON'T KNOW ME!! Go here to take the quiz: http://www.quizyourfriends.com/takequiz.php?quizname=050404025121-165241.

Good luck!! You'll need it.

Mom, when I grow up, I wanna be a Truck Driver

2005-04-02T00:55:00.001-07:00

April 1st, 2005

After attending a career workshop today, I've decided to drop out of college, forget music, and dedicate my life to what I really love: Truck Driving. Finally, a career where I can make my own hours, wear flannel shirts, oil-spilled jeans, mountain shoes, and eat greasy truck stop food for the rest of my life!! And I would never have to shave. Truck drivers are encouraged to grow their beard, you know. I't's company policy. I could even name it "Dude", and talk to it all day long. It will be my best friend, one who doesn't criticize me, make fun of me, or stab me in the back. And Dude and I will travel the country...living the American Dream.

So I went to the student services building today and officially withdrew from the university. I haven't told Dr. Ericson, but I imagine he'll be upset that I'm not going to be a Teaching Assistant anymore. But come on! Who could pass up the opportunity to be a truck driver? I certainly couldn't. I invested the rest of my $2,000 which I was going to use for rent and enrolled myself in a truck driving course. Best thing I've ever spent money on. Truck Driving School, here I come, ready or not!!!

And as if you didn't already know: APRIL FOOLS!!!

What happens when you yell "FIRE" in a room full of musicians?

2005-03-30T19:46:00.000-07:00

March 30th, 2005

So last night I had an interesting quintet rehearsal. We had a late-night practice because we had to play for a professor today, and we really didn't have much prepared. 20 minutes into the rehearsal, the school's fire alarm went off! There were strobe lights flashing, high pitched beeping...it was like a dance club in there! But we really had to rehearse. Who cares if we were in danger of being engulfed in flames, we had to learn the music!

So we ended up taking all our things and attempted to rehearse outside, amidst the cops and the firefighters running around, as well as all those sickos waiting to see some gore. I was reminded of a scene in the movie "Titanic" (not my favorite movie, but I did enjoy the fake immigrant accents). Anyway, in this scene, the ship is sinking and everybody is running around and everything is in chaos EXCEPT for the suicidal string quartet musicians who decide to play while the ship sinks. It was really kind of eerie having classical music playing while all this chaos was going on. It felt kind of like a dream. And as an aside, we kicked butt at our coaching today.

So the question you should ask after reading this entry is: If you yell "FIRE" in a room full of musicians who don't listen to you, are you still making a sound?

TANGO and the creepy Yosemite Sam look-alike

2005-03-27T19:22:00.000-07:00

March 27th, 2005

So a few days ago Lauren and I went to our VERY FIRST TANGO LESSON! Oh man, it was fun...but I have to say: it's freaking hard! Knowing how to swing dance did not help me at all. I was stumbling all over the place, and since Lauren took 10 years of ballet she picked it up waaaaaay faster than me. But I think maybe at the end we started looking less bad. At least that's what people said...but that may have been just pity praise.

But there were a bunch of weirdos there. So during the 45 minute lesson, I was of course partnering with Lauren, since we went together. But then the instructor told us to "switch partners". I got this nice older lady who was even worse than me...so that made me feel good. But poor Lauren looked at me with "tortured" eyes when she got stuck with the BIGGEST WEIRDO I've even seen! Allow me to describe him for you:

With a bit of a hump, this guy was dressed all in black, and fashioning what could only be described as a feminine "Zorro" hat. He had on cowboy boots and cowboy half-pants. All his facial hair, including eyebrows beard and mustache, was red. His mustache, if you can believe it, appeared to be "gel-ed" and pointed upwards. Hence the well deserving title of "Yosemite Sam Look-alike". He didn't smile often, but when he did his mouth revealed several gold teeth. He took it upon himself to single handedly try to turn Lauren and I into expert Tango dancers by the end of the night. He failed miserably, to put it mildly. But everytime he was explaining a move to me, he would pronounce the Spanish name with a "gringo" accent. When I would repeat it back to him in a "Mexican" accent, he would blink a few times, give me a confused look, and say the word again with the "gringo" accent. After a while I gave up and just imitated him. He seemed to think this was progress.

I'm pretty sure he was only teaching us moves so that he could get a dance with Lauren. She was a big hit at the place. There were several girls sitting down on tables, waiting for a guy to ask them to dance. Since Tango is a seriously macho-istic dance, a girl can't dance unless a guy asks her (it's pretty sad). But I think they were all getting frustrated because all the guys were ignoring them and just asking Lauren to dance. As soon as Lauren and I took a break, all the guys turned into vultures and pounced on her. And she's too nice to reject them, so her feet were really sore at the end of the night.

But all in all it was an awesome time. But it's kind of a rigid dance, so in that way it's not as fun as swing dancing. We're going back again soon. This time I'll try to limit my stepping-on-Lauren to below 20 times. She might appreciate that.

Finally, the decision has been made...

2005-03-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

March 22nd, 2005

Thanks for all who voted! I didn't think so many people actually read my blog. For a while there I thought I was just talking to myself. Talking to myself can get kind of boring, because I already know what I'm going to say.

Anyway, this entry is about the decision I made just about 30 minutes ago...about where I'm going next year. I was completely split between Phoenix and Austin, and finally gave up and left it to my poll just below here. So if "Phoenix" and "Austin" were the names of two racehorses, this is how the sports announcer would have called the race:

"And they're off! Phoenix takes a COMMANDING lead! What's wrong with Austin, it seems to just be walking out of the box. Phoenix surges ahead with 5 votes, and Austin at the moment only has one pity vote. It doesn't look good for Austin. But wait a minute! Phoenix seems to have gone off the path and has now fallen asleep on the grass. Austin is suddenly building up momentum and is quickly catching up! Wow look at Austin go! Now Austin is in the lead, 6 - 5! Phoenix has just realized that Austin has passed him, and suddenly bolts to its feet and dashes after Austin. But it doesn't seem to be helping. Austin has really picked up momentum, and it looks like nothing will be able catch up to it now. But wait, the votes for Austin are slowing, and now Phoenix is dead even with Austin! Who would have expected. Wow, what a race...it's lived up to the hype and more! As we near the home stretch, it's anybody's game. Just one extra vote will win the race by a nose. And here they come, what a finish! And it seems like...could it be?...YES! Phoenix wins the race after a huge burst of votes in the final few seconds of the race! Final score, 11 - 10 to Phoenix! This will certainly go down in history as one of the closest and most exciting races of the millenium. Back to you Bob."

So yes, I'm going to Phoenix. And to those of you wanting me to go to Austin, let me explain. ASU offered me the following: basically full tuition + $6,000 TA (teaching assistant) position + $3,000 cash award. Holy cow! Is there anybody stupid enough not to accept an offer like that? Well, actually I'm stupid enough, but thankfully I had a good buddy with good advice on this one. Thanks Andy. Austin would have been pretty cool too, and they offered me a good deal also (but not as good), but I had to choose the better of two good things. I hope all you Austin Hopefuls understand.

And to all the Phoenix Supporters...I have one word for you guys: GERONIMO!!!

YOU can help decide my future!

2005-03-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

It's Madness I tell you, Madness!!

2005-03-13T19:40:00.000-07:00

March 13th, 2005

Okay, let's review my symptoms: constant checking of scores on espn.com, yelling obscenities at the TV followed immediately by cries of joy, wadding up napkins and fade-away-hook-shooting them into the wastebasket while saying "3 seconds left...he shoots...he scores!", an unhealthy obsession with the science of "bracketology"...I believe I may be afflicted with the illness commonly known as "March Madness".

I filled out a bracket at espn.com, and just like very other year, I believe that it is the winning bracket. Nevermind that last year I ended up ranked 643,000th. One of the groups I play in (Salt River Brass - http://www.saltriverbrass.com) started an office pool, so I entered my "infallible" bracket and paid my $2. There's over 50 people who entered, so after I win I'll get over $100.

Okay, so my brackets usually end up being a joke. I have two personality traits that cause my brackets to bust before even the 2nd round. 1) I cheer for underdogs. I think we all do. Everybody likes to see the unknown team filled with nobodies, with no endorsements, with no hype...beat the Goliath team who is supposed to win it all. We love Cinderella stories...they make us believe (at least for a few moments) that real life can sometimes feel like a movie. 2) I tend to be loyal to schools from my hometown, no matter how bad they are. One good example is UTEP. They never get past the first round, and I know they won't this year either...yet I still picked them to win two games and reach the Sweet 16. Why? Because if they actually DO win some games, I want to make sure that I share part of the glory. Hey, it could happen.

I won't share my bracket secrets with you here, because I don't want my picks stolen. But what are you waiting for! Fill out a bracket for a chance to win $10,000! (http://games.espn.go.com/tcmen/bracket/entry). If you don't normally follow NCAA basketball, this is a perfect way to make the games more interesting. You'll find that you'll really get into a game when there's money on the line.

To the batmobile!!

How to write a bestselling novel

2005-03-09T22:33:00.000-07:00

March 9th, 2005

I just finished reading two novels by Dan Brown: 1) The DaVinci Code, and its prequel 2) Angels & Demons. And this is what I learned from these books:

This is how to write a best selling novel:
Step 1: create a main character that is a cross between Bruce Willis in Die Hard, and Doogie Howser. And don't tell me you don't know who Doogie Howser is...I'm not that old (if you seriously don't know... *cough*Watch More TV*cough* just google him).
Step 2: create a damsel in distress. She has to be smarter, braver and more skilled than the main character, but then when the moment of truth comes she has to revert back to female stereotypes and cry out, "Oh Robert save me! I'm suddenly out of character and can't seem to distinguish between a bottle and a monkey. Save me!"
Step 3: Create a mind-boggling crime that only the main character has the info to solve. But here's the catch...he has to not want to solve the case. He never goes looking for adventure...adventure comes looking for him.
Step 4: Create a bad guy who kills a bunch of people for no apparent reason. The word "motive" does not apply here.
Step 5: Every so often put in a paragraph filled with technical jargon, whether it makes sense or not. Nobody will understand it, therefore they'll think you're smarter than them. Maybe they'll even think you're a genius!
Step 6: The world revolves around Rome.
Step 7: At the end of each chapter, this should be your last sentence: "And then the most shocking thing happened". Then reveal the "most shocking thing" (which really doesn't have to be all that shocking) in the last page of the book.
Step 8: Find the character that has absolutely no ties with the problem and who has barely even said one word during the entire story...and make him the criminal mastermind. It's all about making the reader feel stupid.
Step 9: Guy and girl realize they are soulmates and live happily ever after...for about two weeks. The sequel must have a new girl.

So that's it. What are you waiting for? START WRITING! Okay, so if you use this formula you'll get a book so full of cliches , so unpredictable that it becomes predictable, so completely cheesey... But hey, it worked for Dan Brown.

This has been a production of THE WEBLOG AT THE END OF THE INTERNET!!

One Less Thing to Worry About...

2005-03-07T21:21:00.000-07:00

March 7th, 2005

I got this letter in the mail today:

Dear Gustavo,

I am pleased to tell you that The University of Texas School of Music has recommended to the Graduate and International Admissions Center that you be admitted in the DMA degree in French Horn Performance for Fall 2005. Your admission is indicative of your superior level of accomplishment and your potential for professional growth in our discipline. My colleagues and I extend our warmest congratulations, and we look forward to your joining us here in Austin next fall.

I am sure you know that admission to our program is highly competitive. Qualified applicants must be turned away each year because of our limited number of spaces. Congratulations again on your achievement. I look forward to welcoming you to The University of Texas School of Music in August.

So....WOOHOO!!

No Wonder the Lakers Suck!

2005-03-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

March 6th, 2005

Here's what I have to say about LA. LA SUCKS!! That city is ghetto, and dirty, and public transportation makes sure that you leave LA with less hair than you came with (because you pull it out in frustration...wasn't sure everybody got that). It took me THREE HOURS to get from the airport to the audition site, and that was on a supposedly "express" bus. The only thing express about it was the "expresso" the bus driver calmly drank while driving 15 miles per hour in a 35 mph zone. ARGH!!!!

My audition was at 10:10 am. I arrived in the building at 10:02 am, sweaty and out of breath because the bus dropped me off 3/4 of a mile away (it was the closest it got). Didn't have time to do a good warmup, so I just played a few notes, then zoomed up to the audition room. I got there just as they were calling my name.

Then I kicked butt. Hopefully it was good enough to at least get on the sublist. The orchestra I auditioned for was the New World Symphony (check them out at http://www.nws.org), which would be such a cool gig to have for next year. As for my never-ending quest to reach a decision on where to go next year, I'm still equally divided between Phoenix and Austin. Depends what each school offers me. Hell, I just want money.

The phrase "money can't buy happiness" should be followed by the phrase "just kidding". I have more to say about other stuff, but I was told each blog entry is supposed to be about one subject. Actually, this entry technically has two subjects, although they're related. Oh yeah, I'm such a rebel...sticking it to the man! Err....So join me next time, only at the WEBLOG AT THE END OF THE INTERNET!!

BlackJack sucks, Poker is okay, Slots rule!

2005-03-03T09:59:00.000-07:00

March 3rd, 2005

Okay, so I have three kinds of news to post about the recent and infamous Reno, Nevada expedition: Good, Bad, and Regular. Which would you like first?

Okay, here's the Regular News: I broke even at Poker. After three days of screwing my face up in intense concentration, after three days of staying up all night, after three days of hoping for that perfect hand...I only managed to break even on Poker. I guess you'd call that a success, if it wasn't for the bad news:

Bad News: I lost $40 at BlackJack. I know more about BlackJack than any other gambling game. I've read books, memorized strategies, weighed the odds...but nothing helps. The BlackJack gods hate me. I must have insulted BlackJack's cousin or something...Roulette?

GOOD NEWS: "Slots are boring" - or so I used to think. Until I won $225 this weekend. Suddenly, the slots have become the coolest game for me. It took only two quarters, one from Joe (the percussionist), and one of mine to get that sound that everybody hopes to hear (ding ding ding ding ...). Since it was my quarter, and Joe spun, we split the winnings down the middle: $112.50 each. Considering I was expecting to lose at least $60 during this trip, I think I came out pretty good. The hero has conquered Reno! Next up, Las Vegas!!!!

The rest of the trip was fun, too (except the bus ride...my right butt cheek still aches...seriously, it does). Besides drinking and gambling, I had a good time racing in the pool with Lauren and Britanie, and also playing water football with the brass/ww's. The arcade room had a pinball machine that was broken and let you play as long as you wanted. That turned out to be more addicting than actually gambling. The concert was okay, but our conductor sucks. Really sucks! I'd write more about this, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to swear on this blog.
Didn't really want to come back and get back to reality and responsibility and everything, but I guess all good things come to an end. Check back for another update soon, only at the WEBLOG AT THE END OF THE INTERNET!!

Okay, I give up. I can't make the decision myself. I now leave it to the masses. Where does my future lie?
	Phoenix, Arizona State University
	Austin, University of Texas at Austin

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