The Posse's Trip to Oregon (Part 1)

Last Thanksgiving was a Thanksgiving I will always remember and cherish. This isn't a sappy story, mind you, despite it actually starting off sad, but quickly turns into something more...

  The year is 2017, and I am attending Brigham Young University in Idaho. The holidays are quickly approaching and I have no where to go for Thanksgiving. I am already sad that I had to spend my birthday away from family and now it looked that I was going to be alone for Thanksgiving. That was until an angel sent from Heaven, my roommate Katrina, invited me and my roommate Lisa over to spend time with her family. I hesitantly agreed, not wanting to be a burden,  and packed my bags.



We left our apartment around 2:45 in the morning, the blessed a.m., because we were heading to Portland and it was going to be a long drive. Katrina was driving and we were in her car, the Buick. Lisa fell asleep in the back seat because she had worked that night into the morning, so it was my duty, no, my honor to stay awake with Katrina. We were jamming to music but I started nodding off like the dishonorable samurai that I am, when suddenly someone shouted:




"2017!"



Katrina looked at me confused and startled. It was me who had caused the ruckus, and apparently what I had meant to say was "ROAD TRIP 2k17!!!!" but in my tired state all I could get out was the year.

We continued driving until we hit Portland. Now let me tell you something about Portland, it is crazy, be it the roads, people, or places. We were supposed to go to a German deli for Katrina's grandmother, but the GPS told us to turn left when there was no where to turn.


"I'm going to make a U-y" Katrina announced, more scared than anything.

German deli

We get to this weird section where it might or might not be legal to make a U-turn. Cars were about to start coming, but Katrina was determined and took it, despite us all screaming "AHHHHHHHHHH." One point against Portland.

We survived and made it to the deli where we bought a couple of things (mainly chocolate), but I had to pee real bad, like really bad, like I hadn't peed pretty much the entire 12 hour drive. I had noticed a gas station right behind the deli, so we quickly made our way over, just to find out that there were no restrooms. Lisa, with her sharp eyes, quickly scouted a Subway which we scurried over to and I practically yelled "I have got to use the bathroom!" as soon as my foot hit the doorway. The Subway employee sensing my urgency came from around the counter and let me in in a moments notice, right before I was about to wet myself. The bathroom was very nice, clean, and had a toilet that supported me quite well. One point for you Portland.

Finally, after 13 hours of driving we made it to the hotel where we all were going to share a room. Now, I am not lying or even exaggerating when I say that Katrina's dad had the loudest snore I have ever heard. That man fell asleep within 5 minutes of trying, and no one, not even the neighbors, could escape his snore. I mean, Lisa had earbuds in and playing, headphones over her ears, and a pillow over her head and she still couldn't sleep. He was a quiet man during the day, but during the night it was like it became his alter-ego. It literally sounded like he was trying to fake snore while screaming. Little did I know that this was just the start of our adventure.





To be continued...

I Got Stuck in an Elevator

I got stuck in an elevator once; it was a sad but fulfilling day. It didn't happen today or even yesterday, but many moons ago, back when I was in seventh grade.

My friend Jordan and I were taking the elevator down to the first floor of our school to drop off someone, a rare honor only blessed on those who are the most trustworthy, and we decided that it would be a great idea to take the elevator back up instead of taking the stairs. Jordan was this skinny, little, short guy that was full of spunk (keep that in mind for later), and he was supposed to run the key for the elevator to Ms. Newbie while I held the elevator door so we could take the elevator back down. Sneaky, sneaky.

He ran the key over, came running back, and jumped in the elevator. We pressed the button for the first floor and the most unexpected thing happened, an alarm went off. WAAAAAAA WAAAAAAA! Oh no it was Ms. Newbie but no, wait, it was the elevator!

The door started to close like in horror films but stopped with a little gap, just enough to allow an arm through.

 The alarm continued to go off and we started to panic. Jordan, being the little twig that he was, snuck through the tiny gap and made his way towards freedom. I, on the other hand, was not as small and was stuck.

"Jordan!"

I cried out, reaching my arm through the pathetic gap. I knew if he left me I would get caught and be all alone in the blame. How was I going to get myself out of this situation?

He stopped, looked at me, back to freedom, and made his decision. He came back (terrible decision, really because if this was actually a horror film we would both die). We held each other closely and finally the alarm stopped and the elevator closed, taking us down to the first floor. That was one of the more scarier times in my life, but it was also one of the greatest because I learned that day that I had a real friend. Ms. Newbie never found out and we never got in trouble. Did I mention there were only two floors at my school? Worth it? I would say it was a day well spent.

My Life as a Dancer

When people ask if I am human or if I am dancer I proudly exclaim "Neither!" All joking aside, I have done some soul-searching this semester and have come to the conclusion that I am, indeed, not a dancer. Here's why:

What I should look like

I am currently in a social dance class where we have learned the Fox Trot, Swing, the Cha-Cha, and Waltz. I knew before I even started the class that it was going to be a bad idea. I had watched the class previous to mine and did not like it one bit. What they were doing was having the guys holding both of the girls hands and leading the girls around, eyes-closed, wherever they wanted to take them. Later, my teacher called it "tone." 

I decided to be brave and actually try the class, but I had misplaced bravery, so much so that it was to the point of stupidity. Within the first two weeks, one of the T.A.s told me that "if [I] had more confidence I would be better at this." That is the sort of thing every girl wants to hear. So, I stepped up. Instead of approaching my next victim with apologizes, I followed the famous words of Lady Gaga and "just dance[d]," and it sucked!

When I say I can't dance, I don't mean I have two left feet, I mean that I have two left hands for feet. Don't try arguing, I have proof.

In class, this last week, I was the first girl to get asked to dance (by miracle, no doubt) and we did the Fox Trot (which is my worse dance). I was dancing with a really sweet guy, but I could tell he was getting annoyed. I apologized profusely saying "I'm sorry, I can't dance," to which he responded by patting my back "That's why I'm here." Like I said, sweet guy. That is, until the next class. After that all went down and it was time to pick a dance partner, this girl and I were the last ones left and he looked right at me but picked the other girl. Okkkkkaaaaayyyy. Later, during rotations, I was paired to dance with him. Once again I apologized with a "you must hate me, or at least dancing with me," and he had the nerve of saying "No I don't hate you. If anything, you let me know I need a better leader." Okay, maybe he wasn't being that mean when he said it, but it still hurt. 

On to the next bit of evidence. During rotations I got with this guy who is amazing at dance, but first the teacher was going to teach us "sass." They first told all the girls to whip their hair to be sexy, but since I have no hair I rustled my hair in the sexiest way possible for me, which means I looked like I had lice. Back to the dude, so right when we were supposed to dance with each other, he went to the bathroom, for the whole dance time. Okkkkaaayyyy. It was rotation time again and this time I was going to dance with a guy I think is pretty cool. The bathroom guy said "Ha, maybe I should dance with her." and the cool guy was like "You want to?" and bathroom guy went "No you can." and cool guy ran over to the next girl and was like "You can have her.,"

THEY LITERALLY FOUGHT WHO COULD NOT DANCE WITH ME! 

So that is my dance class. Pretty brutal, but then again I am pretty sensitive. Moral of the story: if you get a gut feeling that you shouldn't take a dance class, you probably should take it anyway because it makes for a good story later. 

Ray's Splash Planet Adventure

During summer last year, my family took a trip to the grand ol' Ray's Splash Planet which is a indoor water park where there are children's tears and urine instead of water. Normally, this wouldn't be an adventure my family would take, but there were three babies and one toddler in our pack at the time, and Gammy J thought it would be fun to do, so we went.

Me, at Ray's Splash Planet

The kiddos were splashing, and the adults were even having fun while taking turns watching the kiddos and riding down the slide. Person after person went down the slide, all going down the same way, pencil-style. Now, I am a master of jumping in the pool pencil-style so how hard would it be to go down a slide the same way? Apparently, a lot harder than I expected.

Following my sister-in-law, I climbed the stairs, only to be told to step back because I was too close to the slide. I listened to the instructions, but then it was my turn and I received no instructions on how to go down. I laid down on the slide and off I went, pencil-style of course. I was splashing and swishing and almost spun over to my stomach, but then I hit the bottom. No, like literally, hit the bottom. Splat, blood, lost toenail, the whole shabang. I'll spare you all the details, but basically I ripped off all my little toes' toenails. I hobbled out of the pool and went to my mother who was guarding our stuff. It was not a fun moment. My sister in-law asked if I wanted help, but I said "no" because I am a strong, independent woman who don't need no lifeguard, but that is before I met him.

My mom, not talking no for an answer, called over Hottie McHottiepants. He was a beautiful man with a heart of gold. He got me a bandage and later came over to check on me.

And that's all that happened. The clouds didn't part, the stars didn't align, I just passed ships with Hottie McHottiepants.

The MOST Embarrassing Thing

 

The most embarrassing thing happened to me the other day. Like, literally, the most embarrassing thing.

Flashback

It all started on a beautiful Monday. Well, it wasn't that beautiful, but it was pretty nice compared to the rest of winter. My FHE group (family home evening) had planned a fun activity of Stranded. Stranded is a game where you have two groups  and two cars. You send two to three people from your group to the other car and they get blindfolded and are driven to a new location. After being dropped off, it is their responsibility to call their group and direct them to their location. Fun game, right? Well, we should have known that this was a bad idea to play because everyone from our FHE group who have played it has had a bad experience. One drove their car in the ditch, the others had their phone die in the middle of the game leaving them, wait for it, stranded.

Flash Forward 

It was the first round of the game and I was the copilot. The guy was driving like crazy and I was starting to feel sick. We lost despite both of our efforts (which was actually little to none on my part). I offered to go home, saying I had a early morning class (which I did), but was told to stay. Next round started and I was supposed to be stranded with two other team members.  I was sitting in the back seat of a truck and really was feeling sick now. Problem was, if I said anything or even opened my mouth I would throw up, but if I sat in silence I would most likely make it to our destination and then I could throw up on the side of the road.

NOPE

I threw up all over myself and the truck. Did anybody notice? Nope, again. So, here I was, sitting in my own vomit, trying to get someone's attention without yelling "Hey, I threw up." The driver and his buddy commented on the smell and turned around to look at me, but didn't recognize that I threw up; they just thought I was cheating by having my eyes open.

By now I was panicky, so I nudged my roommate and whispered "I threw up." The guys whipped
their heads around and were all like "YOU THREW UP?!?!"

Long story short, they were very nice to me and drove me home, but now I can never face them again.

But, hey, if that doesn't bring us closer, what will?

The first time I got sick while in Idaho was actually a pleasant experience, in that I didn't die. I currently am taking a shot that has a tendency to make me sick to my stomach, and on that fateful day I had also taken that shot, well, actually I had taken it the night before. I went about my morning as I normally would, by eating my cold cereal and going to class, and honestly nothing felt off, but then I got home from class. I baked a pizza for myself and sat down to eat two slices but ended up eating four. I mean, come on, I hadn't eaten since 6:45 in the morning and it was around 4:00 in the afternoon, so of course I'm going to eat a lot. I probably would have been fine, but then I went for a drive with my friends to go get hair dye. I, again, probably would have been fine, but my roommate was driving and she is a crazy driver. Love her, but crazy. We get to the store and I'm doing fine, then we head back home and I'm not doing fine.
"Go faster," I should have said, or even "pull over!" but I didn't, instead I suffered quietly in the back seat.
We finally arrived to the apartment complex, and I am proud of myself for not upchucking in the car, but I still had one more challenge to face: Walking to the bathroom. I start moving, slowly so I don't upset my stomach any more than it is already and I make my way to where the gravel meets the sidewalk.
Hhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up.
My other poor roommate, who had come along for the ride, heard me make a noise and was walking back to see what was happening.
"Em, I threw up."
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up again.
Had this just have been a intimate moment between me and my roommate, Em, it might have been a moment we could have kept secret through all eternity but no, there was a car parked right behind me with two girls sitting, watching.
 So, instead of dreading that day, I have decided to embrace it. I literally have left my mark of this apartment complex.

A Trip to the Ice Caves

Now that I am living in beautiful Rexburg, Idaho,  I have gone on many adventures, one being the ice caves. Here's what happened...

It all started with me sitting on my couch in my apartment.

HOLD ON!


Okay, backstory now. There is this guy that I totally have had a crush on since senior year of high school. That is all sweet and stuff but problem was that I never was going to see him again because he went on a two year church mission and also went to a completely different college (BYU-I). Well, I transferred over to BYU-I and on my first day touring the campus my dad and I were walking when my dad exclaimed "Gastonia, North Carolina!" Well surprise, surprise, there he was, the man of my dreams.

 "<insert guy's name here>!" I yelled out.

"Yay...." he said, obviously not recognizing me (probably because I cut my hair so short).

We talked and then he remembered me. Not too exciting on the outside, way exciting on the inside.

RESUME!

So I'm sitting on my couch in my apartment when suddenly (cue the choir of angels) he messages me out of nowhere.

"OH MY GOSH!!!!!! HE IS TALKING TO ME!!!!" (cue the pig squeal).

We talk causally, because obviously I am so chill, and he invites me to go to the ice caves with him. Not knowing what that was, and not knowing what I was getting myself into, but only knowing that I was going to do it with him, I agreed to go.

BAD IDEA!!!

We plan out the trip, and get the cars all ready, but I'm beginning to doubt myself. First of all, we needed AWD cars, and second, we would have to lie on our backs and use our feet on the ceiling of the cave to shuffle our way to the slide that was on the end. Maybe if I wasn't so claustrophobic it wouldn't be a problem, but nope, I got my momma's genes.

Despite all my fears I rationalized that I was a big girl and he was going to be there so I might as well go. I invited some of my friends and we hopped in my car to drive out. We jammed out to Disney music and partied the whole way there, but oh, did I mention that you have to drive an hour off road? Me, being the prideful person I am, decided with no one else's consent that I would drive my little Subaru across this trail. We started out just fine, bouncing a lot, but fine, until we almost got stuck.

"Maybe we should pull over," my roommate's boyfriend suggested.

I did, and we waited for the next round of cars to head on over. The ride was fun, not going to lie, but then we arrived to the ice caves.

To speed things up, I almost cried, wet myself, and had a panic attack all at once. It was so scary just to get to the freaking hole in the ground.

"LISA! I'm going to have a panic attack" I whispered to my roommate.

"WHAT!" she yelled back.

Now, I'm really embarrassed. I explained my situation to Lisa and she offered to stay behind with me, but I turned her down because there were a whole group of people like me who were too freaked out to go in.

Long story short, I waited outside the caves and when that hunk of a man came out, he expressed his concern for me not going in, which was totally sweet.

That's it, nothing too exciting.

Hole in the ground

Me, duh, when it was windy

Hole into the cave

Opening to get to the opening of the ice caves

Why Cows Jump Over the Moon

As many people know, cows jump over the moon. The are many depictions of this occurrence in paintings, stories and television. Children are even taught this principle from a young age.  The problem that lies in the event that leave people puzzled.

Why do cows jump over the moon?

After years of studying and pouring over all texts available , even dating back to the 1940's, I have come across the answer. An answer so astounding that I could hardly believe it.

Cows jump over the moon because they are running away from werewolves.

Voila! People have failed to realize the moon is always full when the cows go jumping, and that werewolves only come out at that same full moon. This tradition had a harmless beginning that turned dark quickly. It started when country teen wolves began cow tipping. Cow tipping was a fun, easy way to spend the night when there were little amounts of people to terrorize. Parent werewolves would become concerned for their young and would go out hunting for the children. Upon finding the young werewolves simply cow tipping, the parents would become furious in the waste of the night so in the heat of the moment a cow would be eaten. Soon, werewolves developed a taste for beef and would start the night of killing in the fields. Over the years of dying, cow have developed the instinct to jump, avoiding the tipping and the eating.

I have made the best decision of my life. Here's what happened...

I have been stressed as most people have. It is no fun. Also, having insomnia is no fun. On a typical night I get, at most, five hours of sleep and six hours of coming up with worst case scenarios and reliving past mistakes (I go to bed early thinking I can trick myself into falling asleep).

 One night I decided to be a mature adult and instead of lying in bed, wasting away my life, I would read a book. I had a book already picked out, and it was one I got from a "give-and-take" section. I opened the book and began reading. It was horrible. It was as though a sixth grade girl with ADHD and immense school drama had written it. So there I was, book in hand and stressed.

Suddenly, I got a strong urge to rip a page out of the book. Come on, everyone gets that urge of wanting to deface things for no reason. It is the same kind of feeling you get when you just want to randomly punch someone in the face when they are talking to you. Back to me. So I looked at the book and was like "Nahhhhh, I'm not gonna rip this. Someone made this so I should treat it with respect." The urge didn't go away. I ripped out a page. "HHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH"  I gasped. I had done it. What had I done? The book was now imperfect!!!!!!! I was left with two choices: fix the book or destroy it some more.

I ripped out another page.

What was happening?!?!? I couldn't stop myself. Pages went flying in the air and were whisked around because my fan was on high. Page after page I tore out of the book. My bed became a war zone for books everywhere, and it felt good. I began to laugh out loud, ignoring the fact that it was 1:00 a.m. and that everyone else was asleep. Sheets of paper fell like snow around the room. I made a quick paper angel and sat up.

I felt calm.

All my stress had melted away and I actually started to feel sleep closing in. Though I am often unorthodox, releasing my energy in unadulterated destruction was what I needed to break away from the barriers I had set up for myself. I was going to take the lesson I learned for myself and go to sleep, but I knew I would ruin the experience for myself if I left the mess for my tomorrow self. I cleaned up and recycled the book, except for one page.

 On the last page of the book there was a smiley face (it really was a strange book). I taped that smiley face onto my door to warn all other books to beware. Just kidding, it is a reminder. A reminder to savor the moments when there are no rules, just me.

The reason I post this random event from my life is not necessarily because it is the funniest thing, but because we all need to learn to let go. Go to Goodwill, find a book, and rip it apart. Splash paint all over a piece of paper and smudge it around. Scream. Find a release and go for it. In life we need rules and structure, but when you feel like your structure is falling in, get rid of it for a moment. You will learn to appreciate both the civil and uncivil. You will be free

Hi, my name is Alison Forsberg and I have an unpopular opinion.

I guess in order to explain myself I should start with another fact: I have never been a princess. This fact may seem obvious and even somewhat ridiculous, but it is true. Yes, I have been a princess twice for Halloween but that is not I am trying to say so I will clarify: I have never been a real princess.

 I have a very loving father and a very loving mother, but they never treated me like a little dainty girl who deserved everything she wished. When I broke a rule, such as playing loudly at 10 o'clock at night on a weekday, a simple, unmeaning "I'm sorry" would not suffice and I would be thrown over a knee to get my spanking. I learned from a young age that doing a crime meant getting a punishment. I also learned that stamping my foot would not get me what I wanted. My parents were firm in what they would and wouldn't get me and I hated it as a child, but now as an adult I truly appreciate it.

Now I am going to touch on my unpopular opinion: Media does not decide what we should or shouldn't do, and it does not justify our actions.

Recently I have watched a Buzzfeed video entitled "Women React to Realistic Disney Princess Waistlines" (video below). I have seen these pictures before and believed my reactions to them would be expressed similarly, but I was wrong.

In my belief, yes, Disney could have given each princess a bigger waistline without destroying the any of the princess' beauty, but that it was not necessary due to the fact that it was a cartoon and people recognize they cannot look exactly like, or even similar to one.

To my dismay, all the women said that Disney has skewed their image of how a body should look. One woman even said that as a young child she wanted to remove one of her ribs to get the "princess look."

Right here, and right now, I am going to say something. If you or your child ever wants to get a rib removed for the sake of looking smaller please seek help. That is not normal or healthy. There is a woman who did that and she is known as the "Human Barbie." People are not extremely attracted to her because she doesn't look human, she looks like a doll. People often comment on how they are worried for her health and well-being.

I am not going to say that the women in the video are lying about their beliefs, but I am going to say it is a popular trend to bash the media and blame it for having any self-conscious feelings. It is also popular to use the media for unhealthy life choices, if it be exercising and starving or over eating. I know that when I was a child I was heavy, but not once wanted to have a waistline like a Disney princess. All I wanted was to be healthy.

Why did I have this point of view? I'll tell you what I think helped me have a strong foundation: My parents. As I said before, my parents did not treat me like a princess. They were never abusive, but they did not hide facts from me. When my mother and I would be in the check-out line at the grocery store and I saw the magazines, my mother would tell me we do not read those kinds of things, that they were hurtful and not always true. She would point out how the people were dressed and how I was not to dress like that because it would send the wrong impression to the world. At the same time, when I would go home to eat some freshly-bought goldfish, my mother would not be afraid to suggest eating not as many as I would have liked to. 

My mom never stood for me bashing myself. When I would cry to her about how ugly I was, she would almost get mad and tell me not to talk that way. She would end the conversation by telling me all the ways I was pretty (personality and looks) and then remind me that she loved me. Usually these episodes didn't occur after watching television or seeing an ad, but was after I can home from school realizing all my friends were at healthy weights.

Looking back I do feel bad for myself to a small degree. I was a extremely overweight child, and am still a little overweight today, but I didn't realize at the time was it wasn't completely my fault. In recent years I have found out that I have many medical conditions that made losing, or even staying at a healthy weight, was out of my control. I have begun taking the medicine to help my body function properly and have lost 50 pounds within a year and still am losing lots more.

Overall the point I am trying to make is that media does not make who we are or what we are allowed to do. It is up to our parents to teach us what is right and what is wrong, and it is up to ourselves to continue those practices. Media will never get cleaner, so if you base your life on it then you are doing it to yourself. 

Yes, when you dress in extremely short-shorts you are sending off an image.

Yes, it is your body and you can decide what to wear.

Yes, I should treat you kindly and properly despite what you wear.

No, you cannot change the impression you have made to me.

No, you cannot make me believe that somehow the media came to life and put those pants on you.

I know this isn't a normal, fun, witty post because unfortunately I need to earn money for college. Here are two pieces I am trying to sell, and if you would like something similar (Ex. black wolf) or the same I would be happy to make more per order. Contact me at aforsberg95@gmail.com to order. Different pieces are coming soon!


*Note both works are intended to be wall pieces

"Howling Wolf"

"Howling Wolf"

"The Calling"

"The Calling"

"The Calling"

Hey guys! I have been taking a creative writing class and decided to start posting some of my stories. Sorry I took a break from the blog, but I am getting back on it. So here is my latest short story:

Experiment: Veronica

                Ah, my dear Veronica. What a beauty. I remember heading to my class and meeting her at the foot of the stairs. She had just gotten out of work at the library and was running down them. When we collided, my glasses flew off my face and books were scattered everywhere! We looked so foolish! But it was then that I saw her beautiful green eyes and knew I needed to be with her.

                We dated like any young lovers would, timidly. It took three months for us to hold hands! She always said the sweetest things to me. She would help me with my work by encouraging me to do my best. Finally after I had finished school we got married and I was so happy to be able to have her as my wife. She was beautiful Aphrodite with Athena’s mind.

                I began working for the Third Reich. We began to experiment different ways of making our soldiers stronger and faster. I worked tirelessly with Veronica standing right beside me, occasionally giving advice even though she was not a scientist but just a loving wife. When I began to grow frustrated with mistakes, she would calm me down with gentle words. The experiments ultimately failed. The Third Reich decided to call the program off after losing ten men to the procedures. I was a broken man.

                Veronica had a beautiful, prized ring given to her by her grandma. It was a silver band with a large green stone sitting proudly in the center. Seeing me so upset, she sold it and bought some surplus beakers and burners and put them in the basement for me. I was overcome with joy! I began working at once to make anything I could and it made her so very proud. It was difficult to find the resources I needed to work with, so it was she who would go to laboratories and beg other scientists for some. I didn’t want her to do such a thing for me, but she was a strong, loving wife and did it despite my protests. One time the Gestapo caught her and interrogated her for her suspicious behavior, but she informed them that her husband was working in the laboratory, so they let her go, thinking I was still an employee. Oh, what a sneaky woman she was!  With her scavenged supplies I was able to make pills that contained many necessary vitamins, shots that ease pain, and many other things. The Third Reich became interested in me and my work once again. They funded me and gave me the materials necessary, and Veronica no longer had to put herself in such dangerous and embarrassing situations.

                It was horrible the day I had the accident in my lab. My formula exploded due to excessive heat and was splashed all over the floor. It was one of my most promising tests too. I created a solution that would drive my enemies mad, at first slowly but then rapidly, until they destroyed themselves and others. I didn’t want Veronica to help clean, being concerned she would be affected by it. When I was downstairs, she must remain upstairs. I would never let her be put in a dangerous situation again. As I cleaned the terrible, terrible mess, I made sure none of it would be left behind. I put the rags I used in a trash bag and kept it in the basement for when I would be able to dispose of it. That is when Veronica started to get sick.

                I noticed over the next couple of weeks that she had rashes on her forearms. When I would confront her about it, she would tell me that there was no problem. She was always brave like that. I got slightly nervous for her and found that my trash bag full of the formula soaked rags was gone. She tried to tell me she didn’t take it out. I believed her until she began acting differently. When she would wash the dishes she inspected them like she had done in the past but now she seemed to look more closely, almost as if making sure there were no bugs. When I would offer to clean them for her she would tell me that I do not clean them properly because I never double checked for remaining food. She obviously had become paranoid.

I kept to a normal schedule despite her abnormal behavior. Why didn’t I realize the signs and react? I continued my work, but constantly met trials such as not having supplies or not being able to come up with the correct formula. I was so selfish. Though leaders of Deutschland complimented me for being one of their greatest scientists, I knew it was just Veronica having them say that in order spare my feelings. This is when I began my work to make explosive toads, and rabbits that flew. She would tell me I was working too much and was losing my mind! Ha, she was such a jolly joker.

                The rash began to spread to her face, but she denied it, saying she saw nothing. My poor love couldn’t realize she had been affected by the formula. I felt terrible, and I couldn’t let anyone else get sick. Fearing my experimental infirmity could be contagious I locked Veronica in the house and made sure she could not leave. It was then that her illness turned for the worse; she turned on me! She began calling me mad and told me I needed help. I couldn’t let this go on. I began to look for a cure to help my poor Veronica. I worked day and night, constantly hearing the sounds of her banging against the doors and screaming out for help.

                She was not compliant when I began to cure her. She would scream, twist and beg to be set free. I wanted to, but first she had to be healthy again. None of the cures seemed to work! My wife needed me and I couldn’t help her! I knew I needed to go to more dramatic measures. I raised all her dosages. Slowly she began to shout less and become more docile, like her normal self.

                One day, when I came into my laboratory, I found my love, my all, dead. Her body could not handle my help. I had failed my love again.

                She still lives on now. Her beautiful heart sits waiting for me in the house just as if she were still alive. The rest of her body, however, could not stay, as it would have been too difficult and painful for me to handle. When the police found her in the river they concluded she was experimented and tortured to death. I am unfortunately not able to stay with my dear Veronica because I am in a cell for “murdering” my wife and also for being “insane”. If only they knew she was just sick and needed help. One day I will return to rip open the floor boards to hold my wife’s heart. Luckily her beautiful eyes were small enough to fit into my pockets. Every time I look at them, I remember our first meeting.

                                                -Dr. Schultz Kempler

Journal Entry Found on Prisoner 12956 Before Execution

April 19, 1944

Me and my ghetto friends

White Trash Fridge Side View

White Trash Fridge with Hobo

Boy in the Crack

(My flirting skills summed up in one video)

I finally finish telling the story from the last video. Oh, and I add another one just for kicks and giggles.

Almost done with my second week of college, yet I am only now posting about my first week of college.... Don't question, just watch.

College. A seven letter word. A life I am living.  

Some of you may be wondering what college life is like for me. Well let me give you a little tour of my last couple days here.

My overwhelming kitchen cabinet

My messing room

My standing in one awkward shower to take a picture of the other one across the way (my roommates disapprove)

Tanner the TV

Me playing in the thunderstorm

As you can see, college has been pretty interesting. Also within the four days of being here I have, with my roommates:

- Had a bird fly into my face

- Snuck around and into random buildings at night (thought we set off an alarm 'cause we heard sirens)

- Watched 2 movies, 2 forty-five minutes long episodes, 2 GMM episodes

- Danced our booties off

- Sung until our lungs hurt

- Found out that we can see through the boys' room window out of our back window

- Fought off spiders and their demon children

-Fixed the demon-possessed toilet

- Slept through orientation

I get the feeling that college will turn out all right.....

More to come in the future

HAPPY TUESDAY!!!!!!!!!!! 

You might be wondering why I have gathered you all here today. I feel we haven't been communicating properly because it takes more than one to converse. I try to please you, to give you a bit of enjoyment for the day, but in the end I do not know what you want. I have tried telling funny stories and posting videos but I am running out of ideas. Okay, that is a lie, I have tons of ideas but I just don't know if you would like it. Here are some clips of things I decided not to post do to uncertainty.

I am asking you, nah, begging you to tell me what you want. You want a video about dating? Got it. A funny story about feet? Sure thing, just tell me. 

That's all I have to say for now. So peace out brussel sprout.

Please, please, please don't judge me too hard. My goal in life is to make people laugh, so if you laugh at this video then I have been successful. If you don't laugh then I might as well take up residency of the underside of a rock.

"If you can't laugh at yourself, then who can you laugh at?" 

-Alison Forsberg (trying to tell herself that being crazy isn't wrong)

I've been told that I'm never going to be able to date anyone after this video, but I think the boys will be lining up for miles. We'll see...

A picture from my senior trip that I am not ashamed of because it makes you feel good because you know from now on all pictures of you will look better than this. Your welcome.

I'm so embarresed

STORY TIME!!!!!! The following is based on a true event.

3 Hour Tour

This Monday morning started as any other with Dad reading the newspaper and Mom making breakfast, except they never do that which is what made it like any other. Family was staying over and the house was packed, but everyone continued forth in good spirits. I woke up with a pain in my ear that could only be caused by an ear infection leaving me with no other choice than to announce my inability to go on the boat ride with the rest of the family. Mom and I dropped the others off  at the harbor and pooted off to Urgent Care. Moments following our departure we received a call that the boat broke down. Let me explain:

The night before the men said "We, the manly men, know how to drive the boat but still have to go to boat training. We shall go to this training so you, the women plus Robert (brother 3), can come later with the food, water and sunblock."

So the guys (Dad, David (brother 1), Danny (brother-in-law), and Dylan (nephew 1) were already in the boat and were stranded in the middle of the lake with no food, water nor sunblock.... It took about two hours before they were rescued and bestowed with a new boat making it so they could again head towards the harbor. Mother, wanting the house to herself and not caring about my pain, said that I had to go on the boat  for some "family bonding" time. I reminded her of my statements the night before, how our adventure would turn into a Gilligan's Island experience and how the men already experienced difficulties, but she insisted. 

With my swimsuit on I got in the car and drove with the rest of the family to the dock where we met the slightly more red men. We got on the boat and sailed away into one of the biggest nightmares one could ever face. The water was peaceful, and the sun was shining bright, encouraging everyone to go swimming except for Dad and me. There was laughter as people idly paddled in the water. Once satisfied the tubing began, starting with young Collin (nephew 2).  Joy was felt throughout the boat as everyone took a turn, that is, until a dark, ominous cloud appeared, covering the once bright sun. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. Lightening was spotted in the distance and concerned looks were exchanged.

"What do we do?" the manly men turned to my father, only to receive a shrug of the shoulders. Panic started to set in, when suddenly another boat next to a small, tree filled island (so small that it would take only 10 steps to walk the whole thing). Figuring the other boaters knew what they were doing, we set anchor and waited, and waited, and waited. Twenty minutes had passed but there was still no rain. Ten more minutes passed and the other, much faster, boat pulled up their anchor and sped away, leaving us alone and frightened. A large gust of wind sent fluffs from the trees flying into our boat, an almost beautiful sight. "Look at all the bugs." our nephews said, pointing at the cloud of fluff. "Those aren't bugs," we all responded, "it's just some..... BUGS!!!!!!" Bugs were everywhere, our eyes, our mouths and our noses. Some began the bug dance, while others tried covering their faces with towels and ducked. Thus began our three hour tour.

"This can't get any worse." Niki (sister 1) said, receiving dirty looks and scowls from the others, due to her being able to jinx any situation. True to her cursed powers, rain began dumping from the skies. Normally, North Carolina receives warm, heavy rain, but this was cold, never ending rain. Under a unhelpful tarp, the young couple (Robert and Ember (sister-in-law) covered and protected the innocent nephews while David held on to Phyli (future sister-in-law). Stephen (brother 4), in the wide open, sat calmly, hidden under his towel with a juice box, while Niki and Danny sat wishing they never came. The anchor never caught and we kept drifting away from the island forcing David and Danny to keep moving us back. In light of things, I, with the begrudging help of Stephen, tried reenacting the scene from the Titanic, only to have me slip and almost go over board. into the churning waters of death itself.

Let me speed this up, fast forward. It kept raining, it was cold and everyone was miserable. Finally the sun came out but nothing was dry for another hour. The tubing continued and nobody got hurt, but my ear infection did get worse. Realistically, the storm wasn't even a strong one but considering we were in the middle of a large body of water it was slightly nerve-racking.

The End

P.S. Mom- I'm still mad at you.   

What it felt like