Eagle Scouts are among the best men you’ll ever meet.

I’m just saying, an Eagle Scout would be the first boy to get approval to date my daughter.

Men don’t wear jorts.  Children wear jean shorts.  Jean shorts belong in the 90s.  This means you, John Cena.  The fact that Tobias Fünke wore them should be enough reason for you not to wear them.

http://www.thesmokingjacket.com/lifestyle/to-jort-or-not-to-jort

http://www.facebook.com/pages/JORTS/106473373823

I’m a mile away from your bedroom door

I wanted to get close, but I can’t go anymore

There’s caution tape around the 1 mile radius

of the crash site that claimed the life of one of us

How vividly I can remember the events of that day

And I thought that we both escaped unscathed

But the next morning the newspapers read

“Fatal accident leaves 1 man dead.”

Maybe if I duck under the tape

And slowly get closer to where I met fate

I’d still find my heart slowly beating and clinging to life

And I could call the paramedics, and give it CPR

Or drive it to the hospital myself if it wasn’t too far

Where they would get the crash cart, screaming “we’ve still got a chance”

One more chance to revive the romance

Between a guy who loved a girl more than he should have

Between a girl and a guy who did less than he could have

To save himself from dying in a unforeseen accident

But he didn’t, and the doctors will say they can’t

Because taking the heart away from where it was

Closer to your heart, and your rushing blood

Was what was keeping it alive, and I never knew

Your heart was keeping mine alive too.

So I’ll stay here, pumping gas in my car

My body facing your direction from afar

And I’m trying to look through all of these houses and trees

Virtually flying, imagining everything in transparency

Until I reach your bedroom, where I’ll stop and knock

And maybe you’ll answer and maybe you’ll not

Maybe your music is too loud, and you’d never hear

The sound of my heart beating, no matter how near.

I snap back to my car as the handle finishes pumping

Deep breath in, and I get a small hint of something

Besides the gasoline, there’s something else in the air

Something that reminds me of the smell of your hair

Back in my car, back on the highway I drive

Never knowing if I’m dead, or just barely alive

And as I pass the road to your place

I’m the only one turning my face

Away from the site of that terrible crash

Where wreckage is being hauled away as trash

The wreckage of what I was trying to build

But I never got to finish before I was killed.

And maybe next time I come down this way

A new structure will stand in its place

Built by a man, whose blue prints you approved

Or maybe, once all the wreckage is removed

A memorial will be built in remembrance of me

And when it’s done, the newspapers will read

“Woman builds memorial for lover lost in fatal accident.”

A soldier marches into war for someone’s future,
But he has no guarantee of his own.
A soldier will give up his own life and chance to live it,
To save everyone he loves back home.
The collective sacrifice of these mostly youthful lives,
Makes you wonder how much progress we make when one dies.
To me, that’s the travesty of war.
They’re too young to know what they’re dying for.
Uncle Sam’s fight, or big brother’s battle.
All before they get to see their own kids shake a rattle.
It would seem that the young have a higher exchange rate
than cannon fodder to slow the progression of imminent fate.
There will be less resistance from a boy without dreams,
Than a grown man who has grown to learn what it means
To kill someone, to take from another,
To feel the effects of someone losing their mother.
To see the child play, but minutes later, turn to a corpse.
To know that these are the fruits of fighting wars.
I do not think that war spelled backwards breeds a coincidence;
I believe “raw” to be an extremely appropriate adjective for these incidents.
That’s the only way to truly understand what we do
And how we should be responsible for our actions too.
Flee from the group perspective and think of the implications
We impose on those in different nations
with different lives, jobs, and skin.
With different families and friends, and religion.
Some defend their homes by giving large weapons to their sons.
We take children from their homes and give them the guns.
We train them to think it’s noble, it’s their duty, it’s just.
But these are the words of man, not in God we trust.
If I am to die, it is by God’s design.
For he has given me all that I call mine.

Men should never kiss men.  There are no exceptions.  It doesn’t matter the situation, the place being kissed, or how well they know each other.  No, not even the pope.

When I first brought my LEGO collection from my mom’s house to my house, I created a large scale LEGO man.  It was a little smaller, didn’t have moving arms, it had a baseball hat, and it had a double pocket torso, but it was very similar to this one.

I had a few difficulties finding enough blue pieces to get this done.  I made 3 special orders on bricklink to get more 1×4 bricks, slopes, and also peg and hole joint piece to let the arms and legs move.  Everything else was already in my inventory.

It probably took me 10 hours including rebuilding hours.  It’s pretty heavy, even though each section is pretty hollow.  It’s crazy how fast weight and pieces used add up with LEGO creations.

more pictures here.

THE END

seriously.  WTF?  I just don’t get it.  In this day of technology, why aren’t taxes obsolete?  just friggin take the money out of my paychecks and be done with it.  YOU take care of it Mr. Man.  don’t try and make it easier for my with this teletax, or e-file.com garbage.  because that is what it is, garbage.  I should have to click a button that says “yes, i am alive” or “click here to do your taxes” and that is all.  fin.   none of this “enter your school district’s unique ID number you can find in the back of this 30 page, recycled paper that even homeless people would wipe their own butts with.  who cares????    Why the CRAP is this a necessity.  boggles the mind i tell you.  I am in college, I pay $14,000 a year, and you are telling me I still have to do taxes?  and i have to do them?  And i have to send all that info back to the college????  WHY AM I THE MIDDLE MAN!??!?!  that is all taxes are.  IT isnt like they ask us personal information in our tax forms, like “how do you feel about your job”  or “have you had sex in the past 3 months”  no.  It’s all facts.  numbers even.  all obtainable through either our employers, or some other means.  And don’t pretend that there aren’t any other means.  They can easily get a hold of credit card information.  How about save all the money from printing these $#@@^%$^@$% papers…time out.  why the crap is that a link???  I can’t even psuedo swear without my phrases turning into links anymore.  what is this world coming to. anyway, how about they save all the money from printing costs, mailing and distribution costs, paying the people that man the phones for telefile, and all the “tax helplines” that suck becuase they arent 24-7, They arent operable after 7 pm, which is when most people are doing their taxes.  Some people have jobs you know.  wait, what am i saying, ofcourse you know some people have jobs, IT’S RIGHT STINKING THERE IN OUR TAXES!!!  UGH! people, work with me here.  Why do my employers send me forms?!?!?  another GREAT waste of our natural resources that i like to call plant life.  Lives are being taken for taxes.  the lives of trees.    Trees are especially because they create oxygen for us to breath.  And being able to breath is tax deductable.

my hair is falling out.  the top of my head is thinning.  the sides are still full and growing.  ‘ts bad.  I am a 40 year old.  beer gut and man boobs to match.  notice the new survey.