Homeless Chile

Have any of you ever attempted to run away from home with the standard red and white polka-dotted sack full of crap that would never help you on the road. You know, transformers (barbie dolls), gushers fruit snacks, chalk, etc.

I did once. I must have been 7 or 8 . My parents probably told me I couldn't have ice cream or gum or something totally trivial. My 7 year old logic center in my head let me know that this was a problem large enough to head for the hills and never come back. If I remember correctly, my parents were sitting in the living room and I marched out, sack full of useless material (also placed on the end of a crappy stick) and let them know that I was leaving "forever." Haha. I think they just said "Okay, Jeff" and maybe some sarcastic, parenty faux goodbye. That just fueled the fire inside of me.

So, I went down the street and parked myself under a large tree. It wasn't long before I realized that the tree sucked, my transformer sucked after about 3 minutes of playing with it, the dirt I was sitting on had ants and sucked, the gushers sucked because they joined together to make one large, super gusher, and the vagabond life wasn't as great as I thought it would be.
Thirty minutes of homelessness elapsed and my parents won again. They knew me better than I knew myself! How could that be?! I made the walk of shame through the living room and my dad said something like "Welcome back, son. We missed you."

Anyway, my point is this: We take things way overboard most of the time. We hastily rush out, pack our bags full of useless crap, and realize that we suck when we are sitting on a pile of proverbial ants getting bit on the ass. The walk of shame is the most humbling thing. I can safely say that we take most problems and issues way beyond what is appropriate, gossip about them to death, judge judge judge like Judy, and react like little children who need to walk into a living room of full sarcastic parents who say "told you so!"

Google Maps is the Best. True That. Double True.

I remember when I used to pour Elmer's glue on my hands, rub it all over, and then let it dry. I would then peel it off like I was a snake shedding its skin. Actually, a lot of kids did that during elementary school, during a class project. The teacher would get pissed. In middle school, the glue-on-hands act became less frequent. The kids who still did it were pretty freaky, or dirty, or both. In high school, even more so. I haven't seen anybody do it in college. At least not yet. I guess that is because colleges don't give students cool class projects involving a lot of glue. I didn't mean to blog about glue. I just noticed a glue stick sitting on my desk and it sparked this stream of thought.

Anyway, Tim Bagdanov is getting married tomorrow. Dave Schlegal proposed not too long ago. Keaton is already married. Getting older and I can't even imagine getting married in the next 7-10 years. Not even close. I am stoked for my friends, though.

Google Maps is the most insane thing ever. The new "street view" option is scarily incredible.

I had a nice a weekend. All of the boys went camping up in the Ortegas on Friday night. It was nice to be around all of them, be ridiculous, hike, enjoy the beauty, take pictures, look at the sky, set up tents, smack bugs nonstop, eat meat and bread, drink only water, and get absolutely no sleep. It was super hot so Jamie slept on a table, Bube passed out on the dirt, Andy and I slept on Cello's truck bed, and the rest slept like gippers in the sweat tents. A good ol' American time, I'd say. Sheep made a campy mix with a lot of Bruce Springsteen to get us in the American mood.