Why do I do the things I do?

There are several people I know that have a well worn routine. Whenever they see me, they tell me to be good. And as much as I appreciate that concern, I would probably be better off if they told me something along the lines of "Use your head, Carmen." If more people told me that on a regular basis, I might not be so.... Carmen-ish. Here's an example.

I was at a Braiding workshop a while back. When you braid, to keep tension, you use these really big clamps. And I mean BIG clamps. I had finished braiding and taken my braid and the clamp holding it, off the table. I was looking at it and wondered how it would feel if some body got their nose clamped with one of these things. Immeadiatly, the clamp begins wandering up toward my nose. Long story short, I was in a stalemate with myself. Funny Carmen vs. Intelligent Carmen. Either do the interesting thing (clamp my nose) or the smart thing (use common sense and don't clamp my nose). Intellingence won that battle but just barely.

So working at a place like the Museum is fun for me. Watching people clean stuff with acetone, clean stuff with air powered drills, playing complicated war games on the dry erase board, catologing old pieces of wood. I like working at the museum.

I really like working up in the front. It's always fun and relaxed behind the counter, which also works as a breakroom. There are also some incredibly funny people that I work with on a weekly basis. But the one person nesssary to this post is Linda. Linda is this nice older lady, she has an incredible sense of humor, and apparently has a never ending resource of patience for hyper-active teen volunteers. I had another clamp or not to clamp moment, except the second time it was a barcode scanner. My question was if the computer would price me by scanning my eyes. Linda looks over, sees me with the scanner and doesn't say anything. She just shrugs and laughs. She laughs even harder when I tell her what I'm considering doing. Linda is one of the nicest people I have met. Answers any questions I may have about general upkeep of the giftshop. Laughs when I stick the Museum sticker to my forehead. Very nice lady.

Last time I was at working at the Museum, Linda and I were in the giftshop. The curator and another volunteer where somewhere in the back. I was spinning around in this swivel chair and spot something lying next to the cash register. It was this little gray remote on a chain. I pushed the button on it to see if it did any thing. A little red light blinked on the top of it, but other than that, nothing happened. As I couldn't figure out what it did on my own, I turned to Linda for answers. Her first sentence was "Don't push the little button." Ooops.

Linda explained to me that the innocent little remote is actually a panic alarm. In case of emergency, push the button for 3 seconds and the police will come. If I was made of weaker stuff, I would have fallen off my swivel chair. But, luckily, I'm made of alot of moral fiber. (See my recount of the episode between myself, French Fry, and Soda Dude.) So I was also copelled to tell Linda that I had pushed the little button out of ignorance. She told me that she was pretty sure that I hadn't managed to call the police. A couple of minutes passed and I began to calm down. Until I glanced at the security camera moniter. There where two policemen standing outside the door. Needless to say, I wanted to fall off my swivel chair again. Once again, I didn't fall off. I was to nervous to speak. Would they take me to the Big House for pulling a false alarm? Would they call my parents? Would I have to stop working at the Museum? Would I get grounded?

As all these thoughts continued to swirl around in my head, the policemen entered. They did a good job checking to make sure we weren't hiding any one behind the counter or something. The first thing they asked once they entered the door, "Who set off the panic alarm?". For the third time, I wanted to and failed to fall off my chair. Linda and I, (mostly Linda), explained that it had been an accident and that there was no emegency. The policemen checked again, said that it was alright, asked how long it had taken them to get there, and then left.

I finally fell off the swivel chair. Here's where the notorious Find Every thing Funny Syndrome (F.E.F.S.) comes into play. I'm lying on the ground, after some of the most intense minutes of my life, and I start laughing. I was overcome with everything. I remain on the ground laughing for a little while, then pull myself into a different swivel chair. And start laughing again. Linda said something along the lines of "At least now we know it works!" and begins laughing herself. Once we get under control, who should walk in to the giftshop than the curator. He looks around and asks if any thing has happened. I can't remember if I wanted to start laughing again or fall off the chair.

I must commend those who spend time with me. I tend to find the oddest things in the most boring scenarios, and then laugh when the worst comes to worst. Curse you, F.E.F.S. and Unstoppable Imagination and Curiousity! Well, no, I take that back. I wouldn't have half as much fun and life would be a good step closer to normal for all who know and spend time with me.

Honest Review: Prowl

Very good book, I liked the plot and the characters. There were a few things that kinda bummed me out.

1. There were all these extra characters that popped in and out of the story. Given a name once, they played their part and then didn't end up back in the story. But that is acceptable, the guy is on a sub, there are going to be a lot of people on it. I can't expect for every one on the Omaha to have a chapter.

2. It got way techincal. But that too is acceptable. If your going to place a book on a submarine, you'll need to explain quite a bit.

Very good, plot was always moving and lively. Well done, Gordan Runyan! You have the approval of the "I Have Nothing Better To Do" blog. Mo betta than eva before. ; )

Whadya mean, unlucky?

(Lightening flash)
(Thunder boom)
(Camera does a shot of the sky. It's a full moon, cloudly sky and rain pouring down from the heavens. Another flash of lightening. Over head shot of Tucumcari. Second flash of lightening. Shot of a house. Camera begins to slowly zoom in on the window. A wolf howls in the distance. Camera goes through the window and stops. At the far end of the room, a laptop is open to the Blogger create post page. A figure comes in from the left side of the screen, and sits down in front of the laptop and starts typing. The theme from Young Frankenstien starts as the camera begins to move in slowly toward the typist. The music gets louder and louder until the camera reaches the back of the blogger's chair. The sound of the keys being pressed continues for a couple more seconds after the camera stops moving. The blogger straightens up, and turns around in the chair. A huge butcher knife looms in from the top of the screen... the music reaches it's cresendo and....)

Well,what do you think? It's my first try at one of those. It's called a screenshot.

I wanted to try something a little different wit this post because this a very different post. I wanna trash something, and that something is Friday the 13th. That day is considered unlucky. The mix of a Friday and the number 13 is just a bad mix. There are a ton of different ideas of how this started. One was that an empire was sacked on a Friday the 13th. Another was that the public hangings all took place on Friday and there where 13 steps on the way up to the noose.

Why does that make a day unlucky, other than for that empire and those about to be hung? Supertions are weird. Like the last June 6. The date was 6/6/06. 666 is a baddddddddddd number, the number that the followers of the anti-christ are to marked wit at the end of the world. But I'm not going into that, I'm trashin' Friday 13 today, thanks. But techincally, the date was 6/6/06.

And truely, there is no such thing as bad luck. Luck is what we make it. Fate is in God's hands, and no amount of salt thrown over a shoulder will change anything. The main fact is that you have a choice about luck. You decide if your luck is bad or if it's good, it depends on your veiw on life. It's not cool to break a mirror, but you choose whether you're gonna pick the shards up or go hide in a bomb shelter. So that is why I welcome the black cat, step boldly underneath ladders, and push the limits wit in reason. I'm not supertious, the question is are you?

We interrupt this blog..

I would like to take this moment to show my support for the greatest team in the history of NFL.

DALLAS COWBOYS RULE!!!!!!!! DOWN WIT THE EAGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, thats all. Enjoy the blog.

My Hyper ability

I have a special power. I can make any kid I know turn into a hyper active ball of energy and bad jokes. I can make anyone I know, adult or kid act as if they have eaten a pound of sugar. It may be more than just me that does it, but for some reason, they always go hyper when I'm near by. Just by being around them. I don't know why. I just can. Don't believe me?

I have this friend, Sarah. She is the typical bored teen-ager. She wears flip-flops and has a purse to match every pair. *I saw in her closet* She is usually laid back and extremly cool. Yes, I said it Sarah, cool. So when ever I go over to her house, I try to be a little calmer than I would normaly be at a friend's house. She's one of those friends who talks and hangs out more than plays.

After about twenty minutes, she falls to my Hyper power. She starts cleaning up her room, teen-ager style. *Throw something from one place in the room to another. Even out the mess* Sarah begins to talk, I mean TALK, and giggle about the littlest things. She pulls out a yearbook from school and starts pointing out boys she thinks are cute.

Sarah isn't the only person it works on. I can loosen up a entire birthday party. I make people smile, make them laugh, with out saying anything. I don't know how or why this works for me, but it does. It's my passive superpower. It works on just about everyone I know, except for sticks in the mud. But then again, they are sticks.

Dang It!

I just spent I don't know how long working on a post and the coputer ate it! Dang! And I can't remember anything I wrote! Wahhhh! Why me?!

I posted it and then wanted to edit something and then it disappeared! I guess the moral of the story is, is, is.....

Ok, I can't think of one. Contest! First person to come up wit a good moral gets 100 points!!!!!

I cann't think of anything else to write right now. Go listen to the song When I'm Gone by 3 Doors Down on the computer or request it on the radio. Really good song. :)

':( What are you still doing here? Fine, you can stay. Just wash your own dishes!