First Encounters of the Snow Kind

     Staring up at that gargantuan snow-covered hill on Sixth Street made my entrails reenact the Mexican war for independence. It was an upset. I was wishing to reach the top on my smooth soled shoes that now felt like bananas under my feet. I gave my first step. My foot slowly slid back down like butter on a hot frying skillet. In my reality, snow was as fictitious as Santa Claus and the curious little elves he chose to surround himself with. I gathered in my hand a bunch of that cotton-like death threatening material. I inspected it. It smelled as boring as this limpid metaphor. “It’s not too bad.” I thought, and then changed my mind as soon as my hand was crimson with complaints at the foul tortures I perversely imposed upon it. I gave two speedy steps onward and wrapped my arm around a tree God predestined for my salvation. I don’t make fun of tree huggers any more. That solid unmoving mass of reliability restored my hopes of survival. I tearfully left that friend for another one six feet away. Four trees later, I stared at an empty sidewalk. I decided I would prefer to deal with cars honking maniacally and driving towards me. 

To Marry or Not to Marry

     Tradition! Although NSA is like a fledgling extending its wings, it has quickly established traditions that have made it scandalously drool inspiring. But one more is lacking. As courtship term approaches, guys and girls are daydreaming about Dorian modes. Right, what’s a cubit? Like Pandora during Latin class, fantasizing about courting is quite diverting. It doesn't help that Mr. Appel will sound like the Princess Bride priest. Longly I pondered, and finally found a tradition that will save us from GPA collapsation. Let’s import a Jewish matchmaker. She’ll haunt the halls, stalk the students, hack their Facebooks and seal their fate with her romantic wiles. There’s just one predicament; you girls will bribe her to get matched with me. But I’ll sacrifice myself. Guys, you won’t have to be distressed about the seniors swooping down and taking your girl, she is already yours. Girls, now you won’t worry yourself sick on whether you should marry the sixteen-year-old self-deluded demigod wannabe; or Nathaniel, who believes he eliminates competition by bashing Reuben, who bashed himself. Imagine how exciting graduation would be if along with your diploma you get handed your surprise Mrs. degree. This ain’t secret sister, it’s secret mister. After all, this is what NSA stands for: Need spouse ASAP.

Coffee (alternate version)

     Once upon a time there was a little boy who went to college. At first, he was able to sleep enough, but slowly he succumbed to the workload and became sleep deprived. One Monday morning, he was in Bucer’s and he had a vocab quiz. He was very sleepy, so he decided to drink a sixteen ounce Americano. As he readily consumed that dark liquid, all the secrets of Latin were revealed to him. He had his best quiz grade that time. He was happy, too happy.

     Most of you are slaves to a dark formless master. You have all been victims of its evil clutches. It has tainted all of you with its elusive promises of excessive energy and eccentric thought processes. Evidence of its destructive embrace can be seen in NSA. You might see a girl, with her head absorbed into the table, laughing hysterically in her sleep. The Muslim’s drink makes you believe that you can hyper actively function properly throughout the day without any sleep. Even the fulfillment of this promise is not good.                                                  Once, in distress, I succumbed to temptation and drank a sixteen-ounce Americano. Many of you know about that. But what y’all don’t know is that I wrote some of my thoughts down. Here are a few memorable ones: “My heart is palpitating like a cackle of hyperactive hyenas in a washing machine on the spin cycle “I could swear I can see how fast Pastor Wilson’s beard is growing!” “I believe that skeleton is a living entity, and it’s grinning at me?!” “My leg has decided to rebel, I bet it will soon pop off and join a hippie community.” Twelve hours after I drank coffee, the effects wore off. I was like an abandoned piece of burned bacon swimming in the white grease of disappointment.  Pope Clement knew coffee was the devil’s drink; Clement foolishly thought that he could steal it from him and “Christianize” it. Do you really want to trust the word of one of the wickedest popes in history? Why didn't he also steal Old Scratch’s pitchfork and sanctify people with it? As you can see I am in a coffee high. A coffee high is not a desirable state.

.”  “There is nothing more dangerous for me than a notebook in front of me, a pen in my right hand, and in my left, coffee!” The problem with that quote is that I am left-handed

Coffee

     No Christian imbibed the Muslim’s drink until Pope Clement sanctioned it. What’s wrong with that? He only was one of the most evil popes in history. Coffee is not my cup of tea. It has terrible effects upon me. Drinking coffee is like giving your brain a laxative. I can prove this by reading to you my notes from that fateful day when I drank a quad-shot sixteen-ounce Americano to get my highest grade in a Latin quiz: “My heart is palpitating like a cackle of hyperactive hyenas in a washing machine on the spin cycle.” “I could swear I can see how fast Pastor Wilson’s beard is growing!” “My leg has decided to rebel, I bet it will soon pop off and join a hippie community.” Most of you are slaves to this dark and formless master. You have been victims of its evil clutches. It has tainted you with its elusive promises of excessive energy and eccentric thought activity. Even if this promise is fulfilled and you do feel high like a fly in the sky eating the apple of my pie, the effects will wear off, and you will find yourself feeling abandoned like a burnt piece of bacon swimming in the white grease of disappointment.   

People Should Have Pets

Children should have pets. Owning critters builds character. I learned many valuable life and death lessons from my pets I would not have learned any other way. I discovered mortality because of an experience with a goldfish. One day I returned from school and Goldy was hovering in the waters downside up. My mom had poured chlorinated tap-water into the fishbowl. Therefore, Goldy shriveled and floated up like a dead goldfish in a fishbowl.

Another enlightening experience that happened to me was with my pet rooster. Chanticleer had the chicken flu, so I decided to ease his passing. That was the plan. I flourished a machete and set Chanticleer on the stump. I swung, but at the last moment, I chickened out. Whenever you decide to do something, do it with all your might. If not, you could end up chasing a half decapitated rooster over the river and through the wood and finishing him off the hard way.  I did not hit him as hard as I should have, and Chanticleer sprung, ran off and I exclaimed.

There is no better way for children to learn these serious and important lessons than through first-hand experience with pets. Get yourself a pet, a goldfish, or a rooster.

Fuego en la Sangre

Fuego en la Sangre is the greatest Mexican soap opera of the last decade. Like all soap operas, the storyline is unoriginal. What matters then is the way you present this cliché story. Because of this, you only need to see three or four episodes to understand it. The storyline is this: Boy likes girl, boy gets girl, loses girl, loses his memory, gets memory back but does not like the girl anymore, falls in love again, and finally gets the girl. If you exclude the partial nudity, violence, and some language, this show is for all audiences. One of the greatest benefits to watching this is that you might learn some Spanish, although you would not want to use in around the table.  A couple lines, though, you could use to woo your love. Stonewall Jackson called Spanish “the language meant for lovers”. A phrase that would sound too cheesy in English is suddenly turned into the most romantic love phrase in the universe. For example, “Hey, te acabo de conocer, y esto es una locura, pero aquí está mi número, así que llámame, tal vez.”  Which in English means: “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me, maybe?”