Brandon's Blaag

News Jokes for 9-6-10

2010-09-06T17:57:00.000-07:00

So, uh, what's going on in the news?

A church in Florida is planning a Quran burning on Sept. 11th to warn against the threat of Islam. Says one church member, "Thankfully, books are small. Usually when we warn against threats we have to burn big ol' crosses."

Barack Obama today blamed President Bush for our current economic climate. That's going back a bit, huh? I hope we can hold on until Bill Clinton's policies finally kick in.

In another attempt to apologize for interrupting Taylor Swift at an awards show last year, Kanye West took to Twitter on Saturday where, in under two hours, he posted 71 tweets explaining that *UNFOLLOW.

The "Bed Intruder Song" reached #89 on Billboard's Hot 100 chart marking the first time a song from a youtube viral video has made the list. Record executives have responded by scheduling meetings with hundreds of adorable cats, laughing babies, and guys getting hit in the nuts.

Dan Goodwin who goes by the nickname "Skyscraperman" was arrested after climbing a 58 story tower in San Francisco today. It's Goodwin's biggest PR boost since leaving behind his former "Sewerpipeman" persona.

Goodwin says he climbs tall towers to warn of their dangers. Makes sense, that's the same reason I go to strip clubs.

I don't know what I'm going to do with this blog.

2010-09-05T21:46:00.001-07:00

I've moved my blog over to Wordpress:

http://brandonmuller.wordpress.com

But I'm considering using this blog for other purposes.

Creepy, eh?

Proposed "Ground Zero" Middle Eastern Café Draws Protest

2010-08-15T23:15:00.000-07:00

NEW YORK, NY -- Plans for a Middle Eastern café near Ground Zero have provoked outrage from critics who claim the location would be offensive to the memory of those who died in the 9/11 attacks.

The proposed restaurant, according to Chef Feisal Abdul Rauf, would sit two and a half blocks away from the former site of the World Trade Center and would include a lounge with Wi-Fi internet access open to any patron regardless of their culinary preference.

But a groundswell of anger has risen against the project.

"I can't think of anything more inappropriate than serving Middle Eastern food right on the spot where thousands of Americans were murdered by people who eat that very cuisine," said former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. "All pita-seeking people should refurgitate this idea."

"Being able to order Tabouleh on Ground Zero will be a huge victory for Islam and its goal of global domination," wrote Pamela Geller on her website Ayn Rolls Over. The popular conservative blogger has led the charge against the restaurant asserting that Muslims build eateries whenever they conquer a country.

"The mission of this Islamocafé is to add insult to injury by spitting in the face of America and probably in the food, too," opined Geller. "The whole idea smells worse than a Falafel."

Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich voiced his opposition to the restaurant claiming that the proposed name, "Ali Baba's Place", is a clear reference to the legendary Arabic character who had an association with forty criminals.

"The name says 'Open Sesame' to all terrorist activities," argued Gingrich. "They must think we're really stupid if they thought we wouldn't figure that out."

Added Gingrich, "It's a slippery slope from hummus to Hamas."

The local planning commission has already given the go-ahead for the project. Among the strongest supporters of the café are Michael Bloomberg, the mayor of New York City who says freedom of culinary choice is one of the bedrock principles this country was founded upon.

"American soldiers have died for our right to eat our food wherever we please," said Bloomberg. "I would have no problem eating sushi at Pearl Harbor, a burrito at The Alamo, or even a bratwurst at the Holocaust museum."

Polls show, however, that most Americans disapprove of the café.

Last week, Abraham Foxman, Director of the All Deli League, a national consortium of Jewish delis, surprised many by coming out against the restaurant saying that it is a matter of common courtesy.

"It's about being considerate of the feelings of others," stated Foxman. "If my name was Muhammad Ali, for instance, I would never visit Ground Zero out of respect for the families of the victims of 9/11 who might be offended by my name. Likewise, if I was Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, I would be causing unnecessary pain if I went anywhere near Shanksville, Pennsylvania or the Pentagon. We need to be sensitive to people who equate anything Middle Eastern with terrorism."

Some think the entire controversy is ridiculous.

"Anyone who has studied the facts knows that Middle Eastern foodies didn't bring down the towers," said Dylan Avery, director of the film Loose With The Facts: My 9/11 Truth. "Now, if someone wanted to open a George W. Bush/CIA/Zionist restaurant near Ground Zero, that would be a gross insult and slap in the face."

-

Haiti Breathes Sigh of Relief as Conan's Ordeal Finally Ends

2010-04-12T16:02:00.001-07:00

By Brandon Muller

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti -- Millions of Haitians celebrated today as news spread of Conan O'Brien's announcement that he will bring his late night talk show to the TBS cable network.

"We join the world in celebrating the end of this crisis," announced Haitian president Rene Preval as he stood in front of Haiti's collapsed national palace. "Now we can concentrate on rebuilding our trust in America's late night programming."

Much like the United States, life in Haiti has not been the same since the beginning of the controversy that shook the very foundations of late night entertainment and led to O'Brien's departure from NBC earlier this year. Shattered television viewing habits and devastating opinions of Jay Leno are just some of the wreckage that this Caribbean country has dealt with in the aftermath of the late night debacle.

According to Jean Yves Jason, mayor of Port-au-Prince, Haitians had lost hope in eternal moral justice as long as uncertainty about the multimillionaire's future in comedy lingered.

"There was a glimmer of hope when Conan announced his live comedy tour," explained Jason. "Full redemption, however, could never come unless that late night vacuum was filled. We were even considering making another pact with the devil just so we could see that masturbating bear again."

Although most Haitians were not able to attend the numerous rallies and protests held in support of Conan, many contributed to the outpouring of concern for his plight by not watching TV at all since January. In a show of solidarity, some residents took to wearing their "I'm with Coco" t-shirts as their only piece of clothing, often for weeks at a time.

"My people have shown that we can survive any late night disaster just like we did back in 1992," proclaimed musician Wyclef Jean, a native of Haiti, as he walked among the thousands of Haitians who gathered together on the streets before O'Brien's groundbreaking cable deal was even made public.

Then a jubilant Jean shouted, "Team Coco-oh-oh-oh! Coco-oh-oh-oh! [unintelligible rasping]. This calls for a free concert! Who wants to pay me for it?"

Even though today's celebration marks an end to O'Brien's network woes, many Haitians warn that viewers around the world must never lose sight of what's truly important: television ratings.

"TV shows are fragile, precious things," said Preval as he scooped murky water out of a bucket to momentarily relieve a thirsty child. "Just look at George Lopez. His show was moved back one hour to midnight in order to make room for O'Brien. It could have just as easily been canceled."

Since O'Brien's new show will not debut until November, most Haitians plan to pass the time by looking for food and shelter.

Obama Disses Quickie Vegas Weddings, Provokes Outrage

2010-02-09T04:31:00.000-08:00

By Brandon Muller

LAS VEGAS, NV -- Residents of this renowned tourist mecca are upset over President Barack Obama's recent comment that he hopes his daughters never have a "quickie wedding in Las Vegas."

The remark came Sunday night during a state dinner when a reporter overheard Obama talking to his wife Michelle about the type of wedding he would like their daughters, Sasha and Malia, to have one day. Obama said, "Hopefully, they'll each have a big ceremony in Hawaii and not some quickie wedding in Las Vegas."

Reaction from Nevada politicians, who already feel victimized by two previously perceived Obama slights against Las Vegas, was immediate.

"Does Obama think before he speaks?" asked Gov. Jim Gibbons. "Now no one will ever get married in Las Vegas ever again. We are ruined."

"How dare he insult the hard-working men and women of our fine Sin City!" said Rep. Dina Titus. "Our image depends upon negative words never being spoken about us. This is an outrage!"

For a city known as the "Marriage Capital of the World", Obama's smear could not come at a worse time with Valentine's Day, one of the busiest wedding days of the year, less than a week away.

"The fallout has already begun," said Scarlett Richards, owner of the Little White Wedding Chapel. "I've already had two couples cancel. I didn't ask, but they sounded like the type who'd vote for Obama. So, you know, put two and two together."

Richards says it's not just wedding chapel owners who will take a hit. Cake decorators, limo drivers, Elvis impersonators, and annulment lawyers are just some of the jobs expected to be negatively impacted by the President's statement.

"Obama is destroying our livelihood with his offensive remarks!" said Rep. Shelley Berkley. "Personally, I'd rather use the drive thru at any of the classy chapels here in Las Vegas than stand around in some Hawaiian paradise with the sun glaring in my eyes."

Some Nevada politicians have reacted more strongly than others.

"I will kill him with my bare hands!" screamed Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman after a reporter asked him what he thought of the President's latest comment. Then, after a soothing martini, Goodman asked, "So, uh, what did he say this time?"

After hearing what the President said, a red-faced Goodman took a deep breath and lifted his martini glass in a toasting gesture. His head promptly exploded.

A memorial service will be held Thursday. To honor his memory, the city plans to never welcome the Obamas if they choose to renew their vows in Las Vegas.

Celebrities have also weighed in on the controversy.

"Why does Barack Obama hate Las Vegas?" asked Britney Spears. "I was married there for one weekend. Didn't harm me any."

"Obama has insulted Las Vegas a 3rd time!!" tweeted gossip columnist Robin Leach. "BTW, former playmate Holly Madison is dining with troubled starlett Lindsay Lohan at FIX right now."

Senate Majority Leader, Harry Reid, a lifelong resident of Nevada sent a note to the President asking him if he knew that Reid was up for re-election this year.

"I don't think the President realizes how influential his opinions are," said Reid. "Americans will do anything he says. If only he used that incredible power for good!"

Man Very Proud To Have Deleted MySpace Profile

2010-02-05T19:52:00.000-08:00

By Brandon Muller

LOS ANGELES, CA -- One year after deleting his MySpace account, Joe Hansell, 32, still feels pride whenever he gets the chance to tell someone about his monumental social networking decision.

"There's no better feeling in the world then letting someone know that you no longer have a MySpace profile," gushes Hansell. "It'll feel even better now that I can say it's been a year."

Hansell's life without MySpace began on February 5th, 2009, after almost one year of constantly mentioning to his friends that he was thinking about deleting his account.

"I used to say that since I hardly logged in anymore, I might as well just delete the damn thing," recalls Hansell. "But the pleasure I got from that wasn't enough. I had to go all the way."

While it only took Hansell a few minutes to delete his profile, spreading the news about his decision has kept him busy. Immediately after shutting down his MySpace, Hansell announced his accomplishment on Facebook and Twitter where his friends and followers congratulated him on the important milestone.

"Finally decided to delete my MySpace profile. Feels like a great burden has been lifted. Goodbye Tom!" stated the groundbreaking status update/tweet. Ever since that day, whenever MySpace is mentioned in a real life conversation, Hansell has been able to immediately share his remarkable achievement.

"It never gets old," says Hansell. "Every now and then I come across some self-righteous prick who claims to have never even had a MySpace, but for the most part people are rightly impressed."

Besides the obvious coolness factor, Hansell argues that there are practical reasons for eliminating a MySpace profile such as never again missing a message from friends who have numerous other ways to contact him or no longer being forced by himself to log in and clear out spam friend requests.

He even offers an economic reason to delete a MySpace account.

"I spent years building up my profile with tons of music, photos, graphics, and videos," says Hansell. "If I don't use it, then I'm just wasting server space that News Corp has to pay for."

Adds Hansell, "Why would I want to add unnecessary cost to one of the largest, most profitable companies in the world?"

Hansell is currently joining every new social network he finds, only to delete his account the very next day.

"Next time, I'll be able to say I was the very first."

A Newspaper Obituary Writer Breaks Up With His Girlfriend.

2010-01-27T14:01:00.000-08:00

By Brandon Muller

**Whenever I read obituaries in the newspaper, I'm always annoyed at the almost constant omission of the one thing I'd like to know more than anything else: how the person died. I wonder if newspaper obituary writers apply that logic to anything else in life?**

Ned: Cassie, we need to talk.

Cassie: What's going on?

Ned: I'm afraid we have to break up.

Cassie: Oh my god. Why?

Ned: Our relationship was born on January 12, 2004.

Cassie: What?

Ned: It passed away on... [glances at cell phone] ...January 27th, 2010. It was six years old.

Cassie: Ned, I don't understand. Why are you breaking up with me?

Ned: Our relationship is survived by the memories of our first date at Johnny O's Pizza Parlor, our first kiss at Crystal Lake, the time your parents caught us fooling around in your basement...

Cassie: But why, though? You haven't told me why!

Ned: ...the day we moved in together, the big argument we had about Counter-Strike and the great makeup sex that followed, our camping trip to the mountains, our Valentine's Day scavenger hunt tradition...

Cassie: I don't care about our stupid memories! Please, just tell me why it's over!

Another couple sits nearby.

Woman: Their relationship is the same age as ours. I would be very interested in knowing exactly what it was that made it fail.

Man: Me too. I'm sure he's getting to it soon.

Ned: ...the midnight walks in Freedom Park, the all-night conversations until sunrise, the just-because greeting cards, and many other fond recollections.

Cassie: I can't believe this! Why won't you tell me?

Ned: Services will be held today at... [looks at cell phone] ...6pm at your best friend's house located at 15663 Elkwood Drive (near Bristol Ave).

Cassie: Are you really going to break up with me without mentioning the reason?

Ned: In lieu of flowers, the memories request to be donated to an Alzheimer's Care Facility.

Cassie: Unbelievable! You're such a jerk!

Cassie leaves in tears.

Ned: Wait. Did I leave something out? [thinks for a moment] No, I'm pretty sure I covered the most important details.

Ned walks away.

Woman: Wow. How could he possibly omit that?

Man: I don't know. Maybe he thought this wasn't the right place or time.

Woman: That's dumb.

They sit quietly for a minute.

Woman: I've never gotten a "just-because" card.

Man: Oh, Lord.

My New Years Eve Celebration!

2010-01-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

It's finally here!!!!!

Watching TV!!!!! Go History Channel!!!!!!

Reading about all the other parties going on right now!!!!!!!

Too much drinking!!!!!!!!!

Fireworks!!!!!!!!!!

12:01am January 1st, 2010!!!!!!!!!!

Grandmother Elated to Receive Christmas E-card

2009-12-18T16:59:00.000-08:00

By Brandon Muller

OGDEN, UT -- Amidst the hustle and bustle of a heavily commercialized holiday season, one grandmother has proof that thoughtfulness has not been forgotten.

Two days ago, Eunice Garlow, 83, received a Christmas e-card from Ken Patchell, her 28-year-old grandson.

"When I opened my inbox and saw the subject line 'Ken Has Made A Holiday Card 4 U!' I almost lost it," grinned Garlow as she recalled her tears of joy. "I phoned my best friend Margaret to share the news before I even opened it."

Inside the email, a single link led to a website where a dancing snowman gyrated to a MIDI file version of Run-DMC's "Christmas in Hollis". Below the festive spectacle, flashy graphics wished the recipient a "Happy Holidays From Ken!!"

"Can you imagine the countless hours that must have been involved to create this for me?" asked Garlow in amazement. "I had no idea he was this talented."

According to certain Google searches, e-cards are a special way for friends and loved ones to share the holiday spirit with each other. Exploding in popularity in recent years, e-cards are projected to overtake traditional Christmas greetings (which are simply typed into a blank email by the sender) within five years.

Garlow has had an email account for less than a year. Although impressed by the technology, she still prefers to have correspondences that she can hold in her hand.

"I just have to find a way to print this e-card out" Garlow declared as she stood underneath a printed and framed copy of the "FWD: FWD: FWD: Funny Jokes!!!!!" email her grandson sent her a week before her birthday earlier this year.

Reached for comment, Patchell said he is glad his grandmother appreciates his sentimental gesture.

"I probably looked at a dozen different themes before I chose that one," said Patchell. "Then, I had to type in each email address separately because the stupid thing wouldn't let me import my address book! God, what a nightmare. Next year I'll just send a text. Can you find out if she has a cell phone?"

Garlow now spends most of her Internet time repeatedly pressing the Send/Recv button in her Outlook Express, hoping to hear from the rest of her grandchildren.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 21 -- Galapagos Photos!

2009-09-03T18:51:00.000-07:00

**This is the very last entry in a series recapping my last vacation. I will now return to my normal routine of rarely blogging at all about anything.**

Most of these photos were taken by Dolphin Trainer™ except for the ones that I took. Can you guess which are which?

Welcome to the Galapagos! My invisible friend Arthur and his girlfriend Leslie are in this photo. I won't tell you where, though.

This is the Galaxy and a marine iguana. One is the yacht we lived on for a week while visiting the islands and the other is searching in vain for "one ring to rule them all".

A traditional toast with fancy glasses of whole milk kicks off a week of frivolity. Leave the skim in the fridge please, it's time to party!

Don't drink milk and drive, kids.

Dolphin Trainer™ demonstrates why UNESCO has placed the Galapagos Islands on their Endangered List due to the destructive nature of tourism.

The chicas (from L to R: Rhonda, Darcy, and Kem) patiently await their turn to feed the baby sea lion.

A hawk patiently waits its turn to stand next to Bob for a photo.

Suzanne and Bill perform a scene from their award-winning play "This Sums Up Our Marriage" which has captivated audiences in Winnipeg, Canada for decades.

Milena and Matus are from Slovakia where red-footed boobies are held in such high esteem they inspire fashion choices.

Our legendary guide Carlos. When he's not guiding or moonlighting as a John Stamos impersonator, he delivers lectures on how to communicate with Carol Anne.

Carlos walks barefoot on lava rock to show off his manliness.

And I show off mine.

Settle down, teetotalers. The legal age for drinking milk on the islands is only one day old.

The Galapagos is all about friendship. Just observe how friendly the animals are with each other!

See how well these blue-footed boobies get along? They are good pals!

These rays are really good friends. They stay very close together. That's friendship!

A sea turtle consoles a good friend in time of need. That's what friends are for.

We can learn a lot about friendship from Galapagos animals.

Galapagos hawks have the uncanny ability to peer into the diary of your soul and read all about that one day your crush noticed the zit you were trying to hide on your forehead and told everyone about it and you ran home from school crying like a little baby.

This genetically inferior frigatebird paid big bucks for pouch augmentation in a desperate attempt to attract a mate.

The Middle East has nothing on the enduring feud between hawk and sea lion that has resulted in the loss of countless lives, institutionalized anti-sealiontism, and many fruitless visits by Jimmy Carter.

The nerd of the Galapagos. He won't be passing his genes on any time soon.

Red footed boobies are shy. Probably because they have Smurf beaks.

Sally Lightfoot crabs are into Japanese anime.

Dolphin Trainer™ gets in the way of a great sunset.

*Sigh* And so do Arthur and Leslie.

Hey, Dolphin Trainer™, why not train these so-called "intelligent" animals to recognize the difference between open water and a tuna net?

These fish are liberal.

And these are conservative.

Leftist sea turtle goes against the conservative tide.

In the Galapagos, this is known as a community college of fish.

Dolphin Trainer™ is satisfied. He has successfully poisoned all of the sea lions.

"Not tonight, Dolphin Trainer™. I have a headache."

To raise awareness about the endangered Galapagos giant tortoise, the park kills two of them every month to give tourists fresh shells to play in which inspires us to spread the word about conservation.

This trip was Bill's reward for winning a Charles Darwin impression contest.

Tired of going to the gym? With The Shell™ you can do all your resistance workouts in the comfort of your own home! Just three easy payments of $19.95! Order yours today!

After Dolphin Trainer™ saw Suzanne posing with her Geist magazine, he made me take multiple pictures of him posing with his magazines. This, however, is a family blog.

Tired of looking ridiculous in that Snuggie? Now you can read your Geist magazine in style while wearing The Shell™! Available from fine poachers everywhere.

For some reason, Carlos began humming The Ride of the Valkyries as we approached the mangrove swamp.

Carlos dangles his feet in shark infested waters, unwittingly mocking every boy and girl who was ever born without a foot.

The famous Pinnacle Rock of Bartolome island was designed by the same Italian genius who gave us the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Donate today to the "American Tourists for a Better Galapagos Fund" and help replace these old worn out stairs with a modern escalator.

Google image search "Bartolome island" and you'll find many pictures like this. What you won't see, however, is the gun pointed at every photographer. The park is very demanding about certain things.

Carlos parts a community college of fish.

One night a sea lion hopped on board to avoid a group of hungry sharks. He regaled us with tales of adventure before we pushed him back in to make for an even better story for us to tell our grandchildren.

Dolphin Trainer™ and Carlos shop on different pages of the L.L. Bean catalog.

Carlos talks to us about spreadsheet analysis. It is the most fascinating thing we have ever heard.

This is a family blog so there'll be no jokes about what's scheduled at 0800 hours.

This is Pepe, our super duper strict guide for the second part of our trip. He's giving Arthur and Leslie a lecture about respecting the wildlife.

Kem and Darcy respect the wildlife. They are good friends just like the tortoises!

Along with Pepe, we gained three new passengers at the halfway point. From left to right: Laura, Jessica, and Erica wonder what kind of a high school clique they've entered as they are segregated into the "new kid" table in the corner.

Kem violates the usual Galapagos visitor protocol by enjoying the moment with her eyes, rather than clicking away with her camera. Tsk, tsk! Shameful.

Kem got put in time out.

Can you spot me in this picture?

By keeping its overhead costs low, the post office on Floreana Island has never needed to raise the cost of a first class stamp.

The duckbill on that kiddie ride varies in size and shape from island to island.

Suzanne screams in horror as she suddenly remembers she left the iron on.

Phooning, much like pimpin', ain't exactly easy.

There are lots of underwater treasures to be found in the Galapagos. Like this dog chew toy.

Or this lovely beaded curtain.

"Thank you for flying Manta Ray Airlines. The captain apologizes for the turbulence. He just gets really jumpy whenever he hears the word Crikey."

To avoid predators, starfish blend effortlessly into the blue and, uh, orange background.

Sharks sometimes lay low to attack their prey. However, their lack of orange camouflage gives them away.

Superstitious rays hide in the sand to keep their souls from being stolen by underwater cameras. Seriously, look at the eyes! This dude is totally freaking out.

Camouflage Military Helmet is the most popular aftermarket body kit amongst sea turtles these days.

Sea lions try to act all bad ass, but in reality they just want to balance a rubber ball on their nose.

Who are you trying to intimidate, Mr. Sea Lion? Go toot some horns, marine clown.

"Thank you for flying sea turtle airlines. We have reached our cruising speed and will be arriving at our destination within the next century."

They say the Galapagos islands are evolution's laboratory. Uh, back to the drawing board on this one?

The Lord replied, "My precious child, whenever you saw tracks like this, that's when a marine iguana carried you."

Land iguanas like to yawn whenever blog posts of photo captions run too long.

No, this is not one of those insurance lizards. This one shills for the telemarketing industry.

Boobies go through an awful adolescent stage where God Himself turns away from them because they are so damned ugly.

Is that a turtle wearing a fuzzy parka? Nope, it's a baby booby wondering why Tim Burton hangs around so much with his sketch pad.

Thankfully puberty turns boobies into beautiful swans who look like they left their beaks in the freezer for too long.

Unfortunately for marine iguanas, they never grow out of the "horribly disfigured in a fire" stage.

In the Galapagos, if you cover your eyes, it is not considered cheating. In other news, Bill Clinton continues to lobby for an Ambassadorship to the Galapagos.

This reminds me of the frigatebird kite I had as a kid.

Nazca boobies never fail to be amazed by heavier-than-air flight.

The female Magnificent Frigatebird was named by a very lonely ornithologist.

Dolphin Trainer™ never fails to be amazed by heavier-than-air flight.

The chicas named this little sea lion "Cuddles". Isn't Cuddles cute? Gosh, it's so sad to think that Cuddles is most likely dead now.

BONUS PHOTOS OF QUITO!!

Our hotel wouldn't let us keep our bags inside our room so we took turns keeping watch over them outside.

The Basílica del Voto Nacional has gargoyles that were designed by certain lonely ornithologists.

Arthur and Leslie are big fans of The Opie & Anthony Show.

If you have never seen the attic of a church, then you are either lying or you are blind because you're looking at one right here, Sherlock.

Harold Faltermeyer's Axel F sounds awesome on organ.

Additional note: That is the last known photo of my backpack before it got mustard stained. :(

Handy tip I learned from experience: make sure to take your deep breath before putting your mouth on the blow gun. Those darts are pretty tasty, though.

Shriveled heads tell us much more about the people who gawk at them than it does about those who make them. And I'm not just saying that because I enjoy making them. Staring at them is pretty damn cool, too.

As you can see, the glare from the sun is stronger in the Southern Hemisphere than it is in the Northern Hemisphere. Just ask the Fonzie of South America.

"Bye bye!" says Cuddles. "I'm off to feed the sharks."

_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 20 -- The Last Day

2009-08-31T20:34:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. Once finished, I will begin another 20 part blog recapping all the exciting behind-the-scenes drama of this recap blog that has lasted five months longer than the actual trip.**

What could possibly be said about the last day of a trip? That's just the boring travel day back home. There's nothing to talk about. What am I going to do, tell you about the movie they showed on the airplane?

Yep!

Buckle up.

Captain's Blog. Trip date: March 20, 2009.

We ate our final complimentary breakfast in our hotel, Los Alpes, and chatted with fellow guests. There were always interesting travelers to converse with in that intimate dining room including the older pair of gentlemen who gave us the idea to tour the Inti Nan Solar Museum while they spent a full day at a market up north shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. There was the professor who spoke many languages and seemed to personally know every person he came across. I bet he could beat Kevin Bacon by a few degrees. We also ended up in a lot of pictures with very nice couples: "Hey--you two boys are staying at the same hotel as us...why don't you join us for a picture?"

It was almost like staying at a hostel. That is, with private showers and toilets you can flush paper down. Also, replace the idealistic twenty-somethings who want to share a beer with you with idealistic sixty-somethings who want to share a group photo with you. That's Los Alpes!

This time, our taxi to the airport cost only $5, the cheapest price yet! He must have been new to the job. We did our usual "here? there? back over here? maybe it's there?" search for where we were supposed to go for customs and we ran into a Galaxy reunion. The chicas, Bill and Suzanne, and Janet and Robert were all waiting on line. The chicas flight got postponed so their choice of an earlier flight did not pay dividends especially when it got delayed again and they finally landed back in Canada sometime in April.

Bill and Suzanne told us about their own Inti Nan Solar Museum trip and their adventures shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. Apparently that's a solid one-two punch if you ever visit Ecuador. Janet and Robert took some kind of train ride after their stint on the Galaxy. I think Robert (one of the liveliest eighty-something I've ever encountered) was kidding when he said it reminded him of the very first train ride. Not his first train ride, the very first train ride. Oh, he's a kidder! Uh, right, Bob?

Once again, we said goodbyes. We made "we should go to Dolphin Trainer™'s zoo and play with the dolphins!" reunion plans with the chicas and after 11 days of practice, I was able to mispronounce Upasana's name one last time. With that, we bid farewell to Ecuador and boarded our plane.

Well, Dolphin Trainer™ got to board the plane. I was chosen for a random search by a female security guard. I was ushered into a corner with a small table and informed that she would empty out the contents of my backpack one item at a time. She showed no emotion as she picked up each item. Even the ponchos and other stereotypical South American items gave her no pause. Then she came to my roll-on sunblock stick which I always use for my nose when I hike.

"What's this?"

Sunblock.

"You should have checked this."

But it's not liquid. It's a stick. It's like a big, thick chapstick. Do we have to check chapstick?

"Next time check it."

With that, she finished up and let me on the plane. We flew back to Miami and I watched the movie "Flash of Genius" starring Greg Kinnear as the guy who invented the intermittent wiper and successfully sued all the manufacturers who stole the concept and successfully ruined his entire family life in the process. Not sure what I'm supposed to take from that. Maybe, "Fight for your principles because you can win and your life will be worse off for it!"

The pilot periodically alerted us to significant details such as when we passed over the Panama Canal, the weather in Miami, and the status of the roll-on sunblock hijacker who forced his way into the cabin at the beginning of the flight and caused a bit of a delay before takeoff. The pilot also used the opportunity to practice his Spanish which sounded like a ninth grader reading straight from a Spanish book: "Whole-lah Scene-yors Why Scene-yor-eetahs." That's when I realized that it's not my lack of Spanish that's holding me back from a career as a bi-lingual pilot.

In Miami, Dolphin Trainer™ and I wandered around the airport for food and once again ended up at a Nathan's Hot Dog stand where we got strange looks as we tried to converse with the people eating around us and invited them to be in some group shots with us. Finally it was time to say goodbye to Dolphin Trainer™. He was headed back to Chicago and I back to Las Vegas. He gave me a parting gift, Obsessed, the book he had been reading all trip. It looked like an intriguing thriller which is a change of pace for him. I've done a road trip with him every year since we met in Antarctica in 2005 and he always brings along a book from a specific genre. Last year it was The Time Traveler's Wife, the year before, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and the year before that it was Are you There God? It's Me, Margaret.

Obsessed is about a guy who steals the idea for intermittent wipers and goes on to enjoy a happy and productive life even though he ends up losing many court cases. Not really. It's about a professor's strange class assignment concerning a missing girl. It's fast-paced, but has a let-down ending. Kind of like this blog if you're expecting a big finish and you think the passive voice makes for fast-paced action.

After being away 17 days, I arrived home and was greeted by an apartment with no running water. The unit next door was being remodeled and they accidentally decided I wouldn't need to shower or use the toilet when I came back. So, my vacation sort of lasted an extra day in one sanitary sense. It was fixed the next day. Since I had no vacation photos to sift through or vacation video to edit, I instead sat down to write a never-ending blog about my trip.

A month after the trip, USA Today travel reporter Laura Bly published her article about the Galapagos. She also posted a video on youtube. Some video highlights: Dolphin Trainer™ swimming at 0:18, Pepe handing Dolphin Trainer™ and I some postcards starting at 0:46, and nude photos of the chicas at 1:28.

Speaking of the chicas, Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda visited Las Vegas in June for her sister's bachelorette party. I hooked her up with some discounted "O" show tickets, had a nice dinner with her sister and two of their friends, and waited in vain for her to demonstrate why her nickname is Darcy Pewksgoode. She brought with her some classic Canadian gifts: maple tea, maple syrup, and a hockey stick. I gave her some ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. Is that line funny yet? No?

During our last daily briefing on the Galaxy, everyone exchanged email addresses and snail-mail addresses to stay in touch and exchange photos. In June, Dolphin Trainer™ sent out DVDs he made of the photos he took and the video he edited together from the crappy footage I took. Seriously, I'm one horrible cameraman. Somehow he was able to turn Pepe-like footage into a brilliant Carlos-like video. It's especially good for him because usually he is the star photographer of any trip. However, it became apparent that would not be the case on this trip when, on the way back from Espanola, Jessica opened her laptop and invited everyone to see the photos she had taken so far. They were amazing. Visually stunning. You could see the shock and jealousy dripping from Dolphin Trainer™'s face as he viewed her artistic masterpieces. So, thankfully he was able to claim at least one post-trip award for "Best Video" even though there was no competition in the category.

Here are some random notes I found nowhere to place except here at the end:

1. Karla is starting her own business called Galahouse which, like most businesses on the Galapagos, has zero presence on the web. She still owns half of Galakiwi so you can contact her here if, by chance, you ever travel to San Cristobal. She can get you good deals on anything and hopefully she won't be married to Carlos by the time I return.

2. There's something odd about being on a boat 600 miles off the coast of South America, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and seeing someone on their cell phone.

3. While waiting in line to eat dinner at Hotel Miconia the night before our San Cristobal scuba dives, we talked to a lady who gave us dining advice for the island. She said to avoid one place which was absolutely horrible. Just disgusting. A negative 5 out of 5 stars. I told her we certainly wouldn't be eating there, thank you very much. Later, Dolphin Trainer™ told me she was talking about the place we liked where we ate lunch earlier that day.

4. I didn't notice any difference between the beaks of any of the finches I saw. I guess I just proved evolution wrong much in the same way as those Einsteins who think they've disproved global warming every time it's cold outside.

5. Be sure to put your roll-on sunblock stick in your checked baggage. Lives are at stake.

There is one more post coming before this travel blog is over: Galapagos photos with high-larry-us captions!
_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 19 -- Galapagos Day 10 -- San Cristobal/Quito

2009-08-25T22:35:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. It's amazing how easy it is to turn a relatively short trip into a long, dragged out blog journal detailing every last insignificant moment. Ask me how!**

Dolphin Trainer™ suggested we wake up early on our last day on San Cristobal to get in one last snorkel before flying back to Quito. I would have preferred to spend our last morning in the Galapagos contributing to the rarity of the giant land tortoise, but I go with the flow. We went back to Punta Corola, the same beach we visited the day before but this time we walked a short path to the other side of the point and swam to a more distant cove called Cerro Tijeretas (or Frigatebird Hill) that was also recommended to us by our dive boat companions.

It was further than we thought, but we finally made it and spent time exploring with some sea lions. We wanted to be back at the hotel by 10:30 in order to get to the airport by 11 which meant we'd have to be out of the water by 10 since it was about a 30 minute walk from Punta Corola to our hotel. There is only one flight a day leaving the island and locals never get turned away like a tourist might if they don't get there early. At 9:30 we made the fateful decision to walk from Frigatebird Hill back to Punta Corolla instead of swimming along the shore because we assumed that walking would be quicker.

We easily found the path out of the water that led up to the top of the hill where a statue of Charles Darwin overlooks the water. Apparently this is where he first made landfall on San Cristobal. We never made it to the monument where Darwin first took a dump on the island, but I hear it's nice. The trail was littered with small, sharp rocks which wouldn't be worth mentioning except for the fact that we were barefoot having left our shoes at Punta Corola. The going was slow and painful. Each step was a pointy reminder of our decision to not swim back. I assumed the trail would be short. I was wrong.

There are decisions made in life which may haunt you until your last earthly breath. If there is an afterlife, the decision to walk the trail that day will haunt me until after that. I've done hikes that have lasted from sunrise to sunset, but none seemed as long as this hellish nightmare of a trail. I don't know how people walk barefoot over rough terrain, but if necessity is the mother of invention, I would have invented shoes if I were born a cave man. This was, without a doubt, the worst experience of my life which, if you think about it, says more about my charmed life than it does about this barefoot trail catastrophe.

Dolphin Trainer™ hated it as well, but somehow he managed to go fast enough to where I no longer saw or heard him. It got so bad, I tried walking with my fins on, but that made the going even slower and prohibitively awkward. Considering we had a time deadline, I took solace in the hope that once Dolphin Trainer™ reached our shoes, he'd come back with mine and save me from this walking torture. I'm not one to cuss often but that certainly wasn't the case this day. With each step, I screamed a steady stream of vulgarities that would make any young open-mic comic shake their head in disgust.

It was horrible. Just absolutely incredibly horrible.

What seemed like hours passed and eventually I realized that Dolphin Trainer™ should have been back up the trail by now, heroically carrying my shoes so we could make our flight. Where was he? My constant invectives now turned from blaming the sharp rocks and Charles Darwin himself to a brand new target: Mr. Dolphin Trainer™. Fortunately for him (and me), he never heard the combination of insults I made up which wouldn't even be allowed to air on Satan TV.

Finally, after an eternity of punishment usually reserved for childbirth or kidney stone passing, I emerged from the bloody trail and stepped gloriously onto the sandy beach where I spotted my beloved shoes still sitting right next to Dolphin Trainer™'s shoes. Where was he? I looked out into the bay and saw him snorkeling away without a care in the world.

Bastard.

Later I found out he got in an extra 20 minutes of snorkeling while I marched on my own personal Trail of Tears. I don't know if I was able to keep my anger inside or was just too overwhelmingly relieved for it to finally be over, but I didn't say much to Dolphin Trainer™. He came in and began to excitedly talk about a shark he saw until he noticed my unhappiness. We gathered our things and silently walked back to the hotel. He stayed 30 paces ahead of me, keeping his distance from my seething displeasure. Meantime, I gained some joy by imagining scenarios of Mustard Thieves™ stealing Dolphin Trainer™ rather than my backpack.

We turned in our fins at Victor's dive shop, showered and checked out of our hotel and made it to the airport by 11:15. We had plenty of time before our flight so I no longer harbored ill will toward Dolphin Trainer™ and his extra snorkel time.

Bastard.

As we waited to go through customs, I kept staring at a poster warning about the dangers of premarital sex. I guess that's a big deal in the Galapagos what with Carlos and all. We saw Jessica and Erica in the airport, but did not sit by them. We talked to a group who did a scuba diving live aboard to Wolf and Darwin Islands, the best scuba sites in the Galapagos. Someday, when I don't suck at diving, that's where I'd like to go.

This time our fuel stop in Guayaquil forced us off the plane and inside the concourse for a 20 minute wait where we chatted with Jessica for a bit before they let us board the plane again. This time, there was no assigned seating. We happily took the best seats on the aircraft until we were rudely informed that apparently some seats were already assigned. Whatever. I didn't want to sit in that stupid cockpit anyway.

Back in Quito, we bid farewell to Jessica and Erica for what seemed like the 100th time and took a taxi through rush hour traffic back to our favorite hotel, Los Alpes. We had pre-arranged for the chicas to meet us there that night so we could all have dinner together. We were all happy to reunite, talk about our separate adventures the past few days, and share new Pepe jokes. We wandered around the streets for awhile looking for a restaurant that served guinea pig since Kem (Kim) and Rhonda (Sonia) were craving it, but we couldn't find a suitable place. We eventually settled on a hip, popular looking location which would have to do.

I don't think this restaurant had guinea pig, but they did have bread and butter which made it palpable to Darcy (Upasana) who, as a vegetarian, lives on the combo. In fact, she drove poor Marjorie crazy by demanding bread and butter every morning on the Galaxy during breakfast. In terms of nutrition, bread and butter is her bread and butter. I ordered some kind of chicken thing which wasn't so hot and I don't recall what anyone else had other than the 35 wine bottles that were ordered and consumed within two hours.

Overall, the chicas were glad they visited Isabela Island although I think one of them got sick there. They also said they missed us (which was nice to hear) but they still dreamed of Carlos (of course). We told them of our crush on Karla and Darcy said she predicted it since they were all there at the dive shop that first night when we first met her. After a full evening of conversation, we said our final goodbyes as they took a cab back to their hotel and we walked back to ours.

We did some final packing before going to bed and lamented the fact that when we told the chicas the story of our walkathon of death earlier in the day, they didn't seem to think it sounded so terrible. No matter how much we emphasized the pain, they just shrugged their shoulders as if they couldn't understand why we'd make such a big deal about it. Then they reminded us that Carlos walked barefoot over the sharp, lava rock like it was nothing at all. Oh, brother. Whatever! Like I care what Carlos did.

Bastard.

_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 18 -- Galapagos Day 9 -- San Cristobal Day 2

2009-08-17T20:20:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I am so freakin' bored of this blog recap you have no idea. Somebody kill me now.**

Hey! Time for another entry! Whoo hoo! Awesome! Our second day on San Cristobal was scuba diving day! We met Karla at the dive shop and she introduced us to a nice couple who'd be joining us. The guy was from Argentina and the girl was from England. They were staying on the island for 6 weeks to teach English. I'm always amazed at people who travel abroad to teach English. I couldn't do it. Don't you have to know the students' own language to be able to teach them yours? The only place I could go to teach English is England.

Although the couple were both divers, they were going on the dive boat just to snorkel. She was pregnant and he was foolishly selfless enough to want to stay with his wife. As Karla walked us to the dock, we asked questions about her life. She was born on the island, but spent some time in New Zealand where she met her husband Tim. Together, they opened the dive shop Galakiwi which is a clever combination: Gala for Galapagos and kiwi for a popular shoe polish made in Australia.

However, Karla said they are no longer a couple. That's unfortunate for Tim, I say, because Karla is pretty much the most awesome person we met on the entire trip. If the chicas fell in love with Carlos, then Karla was definitely the female version of Carlos for the chicos. Sure, she was attractive, but she also had the type of personality that lifts her rating on a 1-10 scale of attractiveness to about 26 or 27. Did I mention she also had wings and a halo?

Much like Las Vegas any time of year, we saw lots of campaign signs posted around town for an upcoming election. I asked Karla if she would ever run for office and she said she wouldn't mind, but she doesn't think she'd win because her fellow locals kind of disowned her ever since she married an "outsider". I guess Galapagos and New Zealand are like the Montagues and Capulets, or the Jets and the Sharks, or the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon.

At the dock, she introduced us to our divemaster, Victor, who happens to run his own rival dive shop on the island called "Dive & Surf Club". I don't know how that works between competing dive shops in the Galapagos. Could it be a collective? A real life conservative Republican nightmare? Maybe the motto is, "from each dive shop according to their available dive boats, to each dive shop according to their bookings". Let's hope town hall America never scuba dives in the Galapagos!

Besides an assistant dive master, there were two other divers. One was just some random dude and the other was a guy sailing solo around the world. Now, up until this point, I thought that "training dolphins" was the ultimate conversation dominator. But, no! It's not even close. Dolphin Trainer™ hardly talked about his job once everyone found out about the Around-The-World guy. He faced such a barrage of questions that in one hour I learned more about him than everything I've learned about Michael Jackson since his death. I also learned a lot about sailing around the world. You spend 98% of your time on maintenance because there's always something to fix, you never get a full night's sleep because you have to wake up every 20 minutes or so to check that you are still on course, and, most importantly, you have plenty of time to wonder why you have no friends or loved ones.

From the get-go we could tell that Victor ran a more professional operation than Sub Aqua on Santa Cruz. We did a pre-dive check at Isla Lobos which was our first stop with the Galaxy a week earlier. Victor was able to gauge our abilities from that quick check which means he probably made the following mental note: "Keep eye on shaved head guy...a diving disaster waiting to happen".

Our two dives were at Kicker Rock, otherwise known as Leon Dormido which means "sleeping lion" because it looks like one to people who are blind. Our first dive was a complete circuit around one of the large rock formations. Of course, I only made it halfway around with my lousy air consumption. The assistant divemaster came up with me so, unlike Sub Aqua, this dive operation actually kept track of their divers. How refreshing. I don't remember anything about the first dive, but I do recall they gave us tasty cookies to eat in between dives. I guess that pretty much sums up my scuba diving:

"How was diving in the Galapagos, Brandon? What did you see?"

"I saw a box of Oreo Double Stuf on the boat and I was hoping they'd pass it around and THEY DID! It was awesome!"

As we prepared for the second dive, I noticed the air tank they gave me was at 3300 psi. Usually it's always at 3000. I was so excited that I'd get to be underwater for a bit longer. I had a bonus 300 psi! That's like a whole extra minute for me! Apparently, air is a zero-sum game because Around-The-World guy had only 2700 psi. He was not pleased. Sorry, dude. I guess sometimes it pays to be an air hog.

The second dive was excellent. Right as we descended there was a sea turtle waiting to greet us. We also saw plenty of sharks including an entire school of hammerheads! This was by far my longest dive in the Galapagos even though, unsurprisingly, I was the first to ascend. Once again, the assistant dive master came up as well. Poor guy. When you are the assistant dive master your dives are only as long as the worst schmuck. After a minute or two, Around-The-World guy came up as well. Again, he was very unhappy that he started without a full tank so his dive was "cut short". I didn't bother telling him that he outlasted me even though I had 600 more psi.

After the dives, we went back to Isla Lobos to eat lunch and snorkel with a dozen young sea lions. Dolphin Trainer™ had his waterproof camera and we took video of each other swimming with the sea lions. He didn't like the footage I got although he loved the footage he took of me. He said it was my fault. I say, rather than blame the camera guy, why not just admit that the underwater camera likes me better? It's not my fault he is a lousy sea lion snorkeler. Why not come to terms with the fact that I am the superior "leading man" when it comes to video of swimming with sea lions? Search your feelings, Dolphin Trainer™. You know it to be true.

Overall, the diving experience with Victor was fantastic (as was booking through Karla). I left the following feedback: Highly Recommended! Would do business with again! A+++++++++++++!!!!!!

Back at our hotel, we ran into fellow Galaxy passengers Jessica and Erica who came back from Isabela a day early because Jessica was sick. She probably came to soak in the healing powers of Karla's angelic aura which permeated the island. The couple we met during the dives recommended some beaches with good snorkeling further down from Playa Mann so we went to one via taxi. They were right. There were lots of sea lions, sea turtles and sea bears. Oh my!

As I was showering after the snorkel, Dolphin Trainer™ went to find an internet cafe to call his girlfriend to tell her about Around-The-World guy. He also ran into Karla. Now, we had previously discussed that we were both going to find her that night and give her a tip for being so awesome. Instead, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to give her money right there. At first she refused. He told her to use it for dinner and she confusingly thought he was asking if she'd join us for dinner. And she said yes! The newly single goddess of San Cristobal said she'd join us for dinner! So what did Dolphin Trainer™ do? That's right, he shoved the money in her hand and ran away like a wuss. "I didn't know what to say," he'd later claim. Congratulations, Dolphin Trainer™. Your award for the World's Worst Wingman is at the bottom of the ocean. Go get it.

So rather than spend our last night on San Cristobal in the presence of a sparkling female personality, we ended up at a nearly deserted restaurant on the outskirts of town eating with a cat named Gordo. That was the name of the kitty who roamed under the tables. We also ate with the owner of the restaurant. At least, it felt like it considering he came over to us so much. I felt bad for the guy. He was super nice and, apparently, we were the first customers he'd had in 10 years.

The only information I had gathered about San Cristobal before we arrived was that the Mockingbird Cafe had killer milkshakes. That was my "must do" thing on the island. Finally, on our last night, we went to the cafe only to find out that they couldn't serve any that night. Perhaps the machine was down or maybe it wasn't even on the menu anymore. I can't recall. Hey, this was almost 6 months ago! I can't remember everything! Instead, they had a tasty looking ice cream brownie on the menu. We ordered that. But wouldn't you know it? It was sold out. We ended up with those small ice cream cups with the lid you peel off and the flat little wooden spoon you use to stab the rock hard ice cream until it softens enough to become edible.

We wandered the streets the rest of the night in search of Karla. By this time during our stay on the island, the dark streets of San Cristobal, although much worse looking than Quito, felt very safe. We were almost tempted to give it the Muller/Dolphin Trainer™ backpack test. Besides the ubiquitous political signage I mentioned earlier, San Cristobal has another thing in common with Las Vegas--things are open late. Well, sometimes. Actually, I don't think any business on the island has regular hours. They just open and close as they please, even during the day. Damn commies!

Unfortunately, Karla must not have felt like opening up the shop that night, or going out at all. Dolphin Trainer™ really blew it by not taking her up on her dinner idea. That would have been a great way to finish off our Galapagos experience! Sometimes I imagine her sitting at a table that night, laughing and smiling, brushing her hair away from her face, and then leaning in closer to whisper, "So tell me more about sailing all around the world by yourself."

_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 17 -- Galapagos Day 8 -- San Cristobal Day 1

2009-08-09T22:14:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation and The Alien and Sedition Acts were the greatest mistake of John Adams' Presidency. Some sentence clauses in this blog might not relate to each other.**

Ever wake up on a yacht in the Galapagos and think to yourself, "This would make a great opening sentence for my blog!"? Me neither.

Our last morning aboard the Galaxy was full of disembarkation chores including packing, filling out evaluation forms, and deciding how many nickels to leave for Pepe's tip. Truth be told, I left him a good tip--not as much as I gave Carlos--but enough to maintain the unblemished reputation of travelers who hail from Las Vegas, NV, the legendary land of tipping.

Dolphin Trainer™ donated his fins to the Galaxy mostly because he was too lazy to bother packing them. Similarly, at the end of my Antarctica cruise, I donated my $10 Wal-Mart rubber boots to the Explorer, although that was mostly because the soles were permanently caked with penguin guano. As I mentioned, that ship (and my boots) are now at the bottom of the southern ocean. If the Galaxy meets the same fate, then we can blame Dolphin Trainer™.

Pepe insisted everyone hand in their evaluation forms rather than leave them in the cabins. Why? Because before breakfast I noticed Pepe and the rest of the crew reading through the evaluations! Talk about tacky. I figured they'd wait until we were gone which was why I was so candid in my comments. Otherwise, I might not have used phrases like, "What blindfolded orangutan taught Marjorie how to make beds?" or "Pepe's people skills would be best utilized in a world where there are no people." In all actuality, I wasn't mean at all. I simply said Carlos was the better guide, the first cook was better than the second cook, and Marjorie is the absolute worst bed maker in the history of civilized bed making.

Before leaving the Galaxy, we said goodbye to the crew. Maggie gave me a long, extended hug and I explained to her that if she spoke better English there might have been a chance for us. Of course, she didn't understand. I think I heard her whisper "Remember...hermit crab?" as I turned away.

We took our last panga ride to the dock and said our goodbyes to King Matus and Queen Milena, Suzanne and Bill, Laura Bly, and Jessica and Erica. We were opting out of the final excursion (the San Cristobal Interpretive Center) for a chance to scuba dive. First we tried to check in to our hotel for the next two days, Hotel Miconia, but it was too early. We asked if they could hold our bags and the lady said yes; so she plopped them in the waiting area where she couldn't even see them. With our travel awareness at a heightened level due to our mustard trick experience, Dolphin Trainer™ and I both looked at each other, shrugged, and left for the Galakiwi dive shop.

Unfortunately, there were no dive boats going out that day, but Karla booked us for two dives the next day. We filled out the paperwork and she told us to come back at 5:30 to get squared away with our gear. She was nice enough to find us a land tour to occupy us. After checking into the hotel, we hopped into a cab Karla called for us and embarked on a tour of the interior island.

The cab driver spoke Maggie English so we sat in silence as he drove us to El Junco, a beautiful lagoon nestled on top of the highest hill on the island. The cabbie stopped at a parking lot and pointed to stairs leading up the hill. We got out and hoped he would still be there when we returned. We hiked all around the lagoon and came back to an empty cab. "Oh great!" I thought. "Our luck is so bad now our cab driver was stolen! He's probably tied up in the trunk of some car, covered in mustard." Thankfully, though, he was sitting in another cab smoking a cigarette. I always think the worst.

Next, he took us to a tortoise breeding center/sanctuary. Once again, he stopped in the parking lot and pointed. Not sure if they charged admission, we looked for an "official" starting point but found none. Instead, a well-marked trail into the tortoise sanctuary beckoned. We walked down the path and found some tortoises conveniently loitering near a display describing their behavior. Suddenly, a tall, thin man in a military-type flight suit came sprinting down the trail shouting words to us in Spanish. After a few unsuccessful exchanges in both Maggie English and Brandon and Dolphin Trainer™ Spanish, we realized he was supposed to guide us.

He marched us forward in a speedy fashion. Whenever he came to a display to read, he would stop for, oh, ten seconds or so, before charging ahead like Clark Griswald visiting the Grand Canyon. It was very hot and humid that day, and mystery military guide walked so fast that we lost sight of him a few times. At the end of our boot camp march, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to tip him out of courtesy, but he recoiled in horror and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.

In the parking lot, it was apparently our cab driver's turn to entertain a fellow driver as they hung out in his cab listening to some tunes. Like last time, he seemed oddly apologetic when we arrived as if we'd be angry. I certainly wasn't and I think Dolphin Trainer™ was just kidding around when he went Christian Bale on the guy for being "unprofessional".

Our last stop was a secluded beach about 15 minutes of hiking away from the parking lot. We told the cabbie we'd be back in one hour which went by fairly quickly. We returned and found him sleeping in the back seat, once again apologizing to us after we woke him up. I told him it was no big deal and Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly slapped him across the face but acted like he was seriously enraged. I bet the cab driver still laughs about it, now that he's most likely figured it out. Dolphin Trainer™ sure has a fun sense of humor!

Back in town, we ran into Bill and Suzanne. At separate times, of course, because they know the secret to a long-term marriage: avoid each other at all cost. Suzanne told us that we missed nothing at the morning museumy experience. For lunch, we ate at a place where we just guessed at a familiar looking word or two on the menu and hoped for the best. We guessed well as we enjoyed our meal while arguing over what our cab driver guide appreciated more: my monetary tip or Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly spitting into his face as we exited his cab.

We took another cab to Playa Mann beach which we heard had good snorkeling. It was crowded and we felt a bit weird leaving our stuff unguarded on the sand but we did it anyway. Considering the number of times we "tested" Ecuador with our stupidity, the fact that we were only jacked once is a testament to the fine, honest people of Ecuador. It's a safe place to visit!

I was cold during the snorkel so I came in early, right before a sea lion pup arrived and played with Dolphin Trainer™ as if they were best of friends. At least, that's what Dolphin Trainer™ claims. More likely, he just swam around by himself contemplating his meager existence in this world and the failure of traveling to exotic locations to add meaning to his insignificant life and how his career choice of pinniped training has left him hollow and empty inside making him wonder why he shouldn't just sink down to the bottom of the sea right now and taste the sweet release of death calling out to him from beneath the gentle swaying of the ocean waves.

For dinner, we ate at the fancy restaurant at our hotel. I ordered a medium pizza and Dolphin Trainer™ got a half-order seafood plate. My pizza was huge and Dolphin Trainer's™ half-order was gargantuan--it was like 7 plates! Even the Man v. Food guy would fail the challenge of a full seafood plate order. Amazingly, we ate almost everything on the table, possibly not a smart thing to do the night before scuba diving. Dolphin Trainer™ took all the left-overs and jokingly dumped them over our waiter. What a kidder!

Before retiring to bed, we walked the streets to unwind a bit. We passed Galakiwi when suddenly Karla rushed out after us and asked why we didn't show up to try on gear. Dolphin Trainer™ and I assumed she meant 5:30 am tomorrow, the morning of the dive. I do remember thinking that was odd at the time. Since she told us to show up at 7:30 am for the dives, why have us come in two hours earlier (5:30 in the morning!) to pick out gear? Although I briefly considered asking for clarification, I didn't, because, hey, why be smart when you can be dumb?!

So we tried on our gear at 9:30 pm instead. It's a good thing we decided to walk the streets after dinner, otherwise Karla would have thought we flaked on her! Thankfully, she was really nice about it. I apologized profusely. Dolphin Trainer™ also apologized by shouting "You should have been clearer!" and proceeded to jokingly demonstrate MMA moves on her until the police arrived.

Not to ruin my fun, but since there are people reading this blog who don't know Mark (Dolphin Trainer™) I feel obligated to say that I get some strange enjoyment out of making up lies that make him out to be a jerk, which he most certainly is not.

And this last part is for Dolphin Trainer™ himself: **Irony off!**

-

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 16 -- Galapagos Day 7 -- Espanola

2009-07-30T22:41:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. These are the voyages of the yachtship Galaxy. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange Galapagos islands, to seek out uniquely evolved life forms and isolated populations, to boldly go where Charles Darwin has gone before.**

Gardner Bay on Espanola Island might contain the most beautiful beach out of any we encountered in the Galapagos. Here, King Matus and Queen Milena came closest to the island paradise destination they were falsely promised. All along the picturesque shore lay dozens and dozens of sea lions basking in the sun, waiting to be photographed.

One juvenile was particularly playful and photogenic. Nicknamed "Cuddles" by the chicas, this little fellow with large anime eyes curiously scooted over to our group. Suzanne sat on the beach snapping photo after photo as Cuddles shimmied closer and closer until, in a surprisingly quick move, the sea lion kissed Suzanne's feet and elicited "aww's" from everyone.

Everyone except for Pepe.

With a rage coursing through his veins usually reserved for faux-humping chicas, Pepe unleashed a verbal lashing reprimanding Suzanne for violating the park's two meter rule of distance between humans and animals. Cuddles, on the other hand, was spared any lecture at all which starkly illustrated Pepe's favoritism toward fellow natives. Pepe, after all, was born on the islands.

In Antarctica, there is a five meter rule of avoidance. However, they sensibly say that it's OK if the penguins approach you as long as you stay still. In fact, we were encouraged to lie down to see if any penguins were brave enough to stand on top of you (which happens). No such shenanigans are allowed on the Galapagos. At least not on Pepe's watch. In fairness to Pepe, he has come along way since he first became a guide and enforced the following Hollywood diva-like rules for observing Galapagos animals:

1. No photos
2. No autographs
3. No direct eye contact
4. No brown M&Ms in the candy bowl

Unfortunately for Suzanne, Cuddles violated the two meter rule two more times (although Cuddles tells a different version of the events) causing Pepe's blood to boil redder than any of the water you'll see in the movie The Cove. After our beach walk, we had our last snorkel as passengers of the Galaxy, swimming around a rock outcropping where we saw rays camouflaging themselves in the sand. Suzanne was not allowed to snorkel and sat in time out facing away from all the action.

I ended the snorkel with a convincing dead man's float which attracted no attention. Incensed, I vowed to teach them all a lesson by actually drowning if I ever got another chance. On the ride back to the Galaxy, I was unlucky enough to not be in the panga that had a marine iguana swimming next to it. Suzanne was in that panga, but Pepe covered her eyes. Such was the extent of her punishment.

By the way, I mentioned before that one of the panga drivers was named Nixon. This guy was always saying things to me in Spanish that other crew members laughed at, making me feel uncomfortable and suspicious. So one time when I hopped in his panga and he started in with his usual patter, I fired back a machine gun-like barrage of vocabulary words that I knew he wouldn't understand. "What?" he queried. I just laughed and said never mind as he gave me a worried look. It works both ways, buddy.

Back on board I finished watching Ratatouille during siesta time. After that, Dolphin Trainer™, Bill, Matus, Milena and I took a tour of the bridge which is where the captain hangs out pretending to monitor maps and radar. I say pretend because the captain showed us how the boat is actually mechanically attached to a predetermined course like an amusement park water ride. Twice a year, the water around the islands is drained so the entire apparatus can be cleaned. Must be some sight!

Our last land excursion was a loop trail around Punta Suarez. We were warned to prepare for a hot, unprotected hike. Crabs and marine iguanas lazily gazed at us as we landed and walked on the lava rock. Further inland, we passed through a major blue-footed booby zone on our way to a blowhole. As we continued along the loop, Laura, a seasoned traveler with more than 20 fully stamped passports, revealed that she was about to pass out. I don't know the details, but I think she brought no water, no hat, no sun protection at all and then sprinted back and forth on the trail in an attempt to make the hike more challenging. Somehow she was able to continue and was even lucky enough to spot the rare Galapagos hawk which, on Espanola, is often mistaken for a mocking bird.

The Galaxy left Espanola and headed to San Cristobal where our cruise began six days earlier. On the way, Dolphin Trainer™ and I hung out on the top deck looking for whales and dolphins, finding neither. At our last daily briefing, we passed around an email list so everyone could share their trip photos. I took the time to sign a guestbook in the lounge multiple times under many aliases as is my wont. Let future passengers wonder about "Max", the lumberjack from the Pacific Northwest who enjoyed the "crisp, barbecued taste of booby" or the confessions of 7 year old "Timmy" who was glad that the couch in the lounge didn't stain after "going pee pee" on it.

Not long after the sun went down, we arrived at San Cristobal and got to spend a few hours tasting the nightlife of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno where Dolphin Trainer™ and I would spend two extra days scuba diving before flying back to Quito. Maggie and Marjorie were allowed to leave their Galaxy duties behind and ride the pangas to the dock, ready to party and both dressed to impress. Of course we all know who Maggie was trying to impress. Suzanne, on the other hand, spent the entire time locked up in the brig.

We explored the town with the chicas. Once again, kids were out in force, this time playing on those coin operated kiddie rides that you see in malls and shopping centers. I hopped on one, but some parents shooed me away as if a 35 year old man who used to be called "small fry" in elementary school would be able to break it. At a dive shop called Galakiwi we met a nice woman named Karla who told us to stop by in the morning to see if there were any dives available that day since nobody likes to pre-book dives for unreliable tourists.

Pepe told us to meet him at a certain local bar and for some reason we actually went there. This time, I declined a free round from Dolphin Trainer™ and we soon left since the vibe at the place was weird. Pepe never showed up which makes me wonder what was going on. I'm just waiting for Dolphin Trainer™ and the chicas to come down with some incurable disease that can be traced back to that bar.

We played some games our last night on board the Galaxy. The chicas brought out two moving boxes worth of candy that they had been hiding in their cabins. It was only 20% of what they originally started the cruise with having gorged themselves a few days ago trying to eat away the pain of Carlos' departure. The Galaxy, by the way, had a candy jar in the lounge full of chocolate treats which I emptied on a daily basis. The jar was near a spectacular invention called a water cooler. This modern marvel allowed any passenger to drink free, purified water any time of day! I mention this because some cruise ships don't think free water is a necessary amenity. The Explorer ship that I took to Antarctica charged for water and is now at the bottom of the ocean. That, my friends, is karmic justice.

King Matus pulled out his laptop and showed us pictures and videos from his kingdom of Slovakia. He invited us to be his royal guests whenever we want to visit. We said goodbye to the chicas since they would be leaving the boat earlier than everyone else to travel to Isabela Island where they would spend the next two days. We made plans with them to reunite in Quito for dinner the night before we were all scheduled to fly out of Ecuador.

I didn't really sleep too well that last night on board the Galaxy. I suppose my thoughts of all the adventures we had enjoyed over the past week kept me awake most of the night. Of course, the constant screams of "Get me out of here!" and "I'll never go near a sea lion again!" from somewhere deep within the bowels of the boat didn't help me sleep, either.

_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 15 -- Galapagos Day 6 -- Floreana

2009-07-28T20:43:00.001-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I dedicate this entry to my first true love. Here's to you, red/pinkish blanket from my childhood.**

When Pepe replaced Carlos as our guide, the food quality on the ship also took a bit of a nosedive. Perhaps, unbeknownst to us, the cook was replaced as well, but we'd rather just believe that Carlos inspired all of the crew to strive for the highest standards while Pepe inspired them to half ass it. The first indication that something was different was when our breakfast was served buffet style rather than delivered to our tables. The second was when the same breakfast was re-served to us as lunch.

Our morning excursion landed us on a olive-colored shore called Punta Cormorant on the island of Floreana. We saw some flamingos in the distance as we walked by a brackish lagoon and hiked to a white sand beach where green sea turtles nest. There I filmed a large crab crawling in the sand many meters away. I showed the footage to Maggie and asked her what it was.

"Hermit crab!" she exclaimed with authority. She was so excited to be able to answer someone's question for once! It felt good knowing I helped her feel like a real guide.

"What does it eat?" I queried, more than happy to encourage her new found confidence.

"Uh...I...wha? It's...No? Yes."

Never mind.

Unlike every previous shore landing, this was the first time we had to share the trail with another tour group. Sure, it was probably due to the fact that we were now on one of the more visited islands, but we'd rather think that instead it was somehow Pepe's fault. Yet another consequence of his negative energy. Not that he had any, but we like to imagine he did.

For our snorkel around and inside a volcanic crater called "Devil's Crown", shorty wetsuits were all of a sudden available for rent. I don't recall Carlos ever mentioning the possibility. Perhaps they came on board with Pepe. Regardless, I'm sure it's Pepe's fault that this was the first we'd heard of wetsuit rentals. Everyone who hadn't brought a wetsuit of their own jumped at the chance to swim comfortably warm for once. Except for me. I decided to brave the waters because I'm tough and manly enough to balk at spending extra money.

My gamble did pay off since the water wasn't so bad. Handy tip--just tuck your quick dry t-shirt into your swim trunks and --presto!--a makeshift wetsuit that acts like more than .09% of the real thing! We saw some sharks and also a sea turtle that Laura and Dolphin Trainer™ kept following despite the command from Pepe to come back to the group. Dolphin Trainer™ did everything he could to weasel in on every shot Laura took due to his USA Today pinup dreams.

After lunch, Pepe scheduled a siesta into the itinerary. This was new. Carlos didn't do this. Hey, Pepe, did you know Carlos never did this? What's going on? It was like they were two different guides or something! I guess everyone else actually slept because I was alone as I watched the first half of Ratatouille thanks to the extensive Galaxy DVD library. My friend Matthew Scott Hunter recommended it, saying it was the best movie of 2007 and it inspired him to cook. I was on board until the rat started puppeteering the chef by pulling his hair. Now that's ridiculous. I did, however, briefly consider placing a Galapagos rice rat into the toque blanche of the new Galaxy chef.

Floreana island is most famous for Post Office Bay which is where we spent our afternoon. The post office of Post Office Bay consists of a barrel or two. Yep, that's it. In the past, whalers used to leave mail here in a barrel and other ships passing by would pick it up and deliver it. Nowadays, tourists drop off postcards to be mailed and search through the stack to find any addressed to their hometown which they can deliver themselves. Thus, no stamps are used; just good old-fashioned hand delivery by kind-hearted fellow travelers.

However, not everyone follows the rules. I left a postcard addressed to my parents and it arrived at their house one month later. By mail! Whoever picked it up mailed it from San Diego, a mere two and a half hour drive from Hesperia, where my parents live. I felt ripped off mostly because it wasn't hand delivered but also because it came so fast. I had hopes of my parents getting a knock on their door twenty years from now when a Hesperia resident finally saved up enough money by shopping exclusively at Porgie's Liquor and Deli to finally afford a trip to the Galapagos. One month delivery means too many people are visiting the islands! Again, Pepe must clearly be at fault here somehow.

No postcard was destined for Las Vegas, so I took one addressed to Mission Viejo instead. Sure, that's 5 hours or so from my house, but every year for a week my family camps at a beach near there, so it'd work out. Except, come to find out, my parents couldn't get reservations this year! However, I did finally make the trip out there just two weeks ago. Instead of Dan--the intended recipient--opening the door, I was greeted by two girls who didn't know anything about the postcard which had a short message scrawled on it by "Dad". They said Dan was in Chicago at the moment and they'd give it to him. Again, I was a bit disappointed. I had hopes of Dan greeting me with, "I've been waiting four months for this delivery! This is the greatest day of my life! I can't believe you came all the way from Las Vegas! My dad's a billionaire and he said he'd give 100 million to whoever delivered this postcard!"

Here is Laura's quick supplemental article about Post Office Bay. Notice the absence of Dolphin Trainer™. Go ahead and cry for him Argentina. Also, the "impromptu legend" she mentions was invented by me during an angry email informing my fellow passengers of the hand delivery violation of my parent's postcard.

After our visit to the post office, we hung out at the beach and snorkeled a bit. Maggie pulled a female Carlos impression and snorkeled without fins. She also ditched her wetsuit for the first time and showcased an impressive bikini body. Obviously, she was pulling out all the stops in order to woo me. Occasionally, I'd catch her drifting over to me and giving me a look that said, "Hey, remember when I identified that hermit crab? That was pretty good, huh?"

I'll refrain from mentioning the passenger who absentmindedly brought a bag of Goldfish pretzels onto Post Office Bay and munched them before realizing the park rule violation and hid them right before Pepe saw. Wow, talk about a close call! I think it would have been renamed Post Office and Cemetery Bay if Pepe had seen that. And, no, it wasn't me. I'm no fan of that snack.

Back on the Galaxy, during our daily briefing, it was Pepe who got an earful from us. Almost everyone complained about the lack of loudspeaker reminders. Carlos always made announcements before meal times and upcoming excursions. Pepe thought we were adult enough to check the schedule on the dry erase board in the lounge and take individual responsibility for being on time. He was wrong. Carlos didn't do it that way, so we didn't want it that way either. Seriously, Pepe, when are you just going to turn into Carlos already?

At night, we watched sharks circle the yacht, probably feeding off Pepe's negative energy. Later, we saw lighting quick sea lions chasing even quicker fish that amazingly jumped out of the water and zoomed along the surface to avoid being eaten. As we stood on the sun deck watching the festivities, the chicas told Dolphin Trainer™ that he looked more like a Jerry than a Mark. I said Upasana looked more like a Darcy (probably because I found that easier to pronounce) and soon all the chicas and chicos had new names: Dolphin Trainer™ became Jerry Trainswell because, well, duh. I became Steve Dabbles since I "dabble" in many different fields. Upasana was christened Darcy Pewksgoode (her spelling) due to her penchant for blowing chunks. Kim was named Kemberly Luv because that's how her name was misspelled on her Galaxy greeting envelope and Sonia was nicknamed Rhonda Tripper because she constantly tripped everywhere she walked.

Pepe was nicknamed lots of things, too, like Lucifer the Dictator, Bizarro Carlos, and Skippy the Toot Fairy.

Bill and I stayed up late on the sun deck discussing topics ranging from evolution to Robot Chicken to why I would choose to make blog posts so long no one bothers to read them. The stargazing was spectacular that night. We eventually caught the full moonrise and were about to retire to bed when we heard a thundering noise. The horrific grinding sound shook the entire boat and reverberated throughout the bay. It was probably just the anchor being hoisted up as the Galaxy prepared for its nightly voyage, but we like to think it was Pepe undergoing a beastly transformation. A twisted rejuvenation of his blackened soul, roaring at the full moon in sacrificial reverence and sadistic pain. A monthly ritual legendary amongst Galapagos natives, but never spoken of lest the permeating darkness of Pepe's power catch wind of the whispers and extinguish their curiosity with the suffocating evil of his deathly embrace .

Or yeah, it was probably just the anchor.

One can dream though.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 14 -- Galapagos Day 5 -- Santa Cruz -- Subsection B

2009-07-22T23:26:00.001-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation even though the entry you are about to read was actually written before I even took the trip.**

After our morning dives, we rejoined our group at Rancho Permiso, a private ranch in the highlands of Santa Cruz and home to over 100 giant land tortoises. Everyone said they missed us and added that we didn't miss much by skipping the Charles Darwin Research Center, although we did miss out on seeing Lonesome George, the legendary giant land tortoise who refuses to have sex and is the last known survivor of the Pinta, one of Christopher Columbus' famous ships.

We met the newest passengers: Jessica and Erika, best friends from Mexico, and Laura Bly, travel writer for USA Today. Laura was writing an article about the Galapagos and since Dolphin Trainer™ wanted more than anything to be mentioned in a newspaper story, he made it his goal to kiss up to her at every opportunity.

We also met our new guide: Jose Luis, otherwise known as "Pepe". By the way, a simple Google search reveals that everyone in the world named "Jose Luis" also goes by the name "Pepe". What the hell is up with that? Originally, Pepe was supposed to be our guide for the entire trip, but a personal matter kept him the first four days so he asked Carlos to step in as a substitute. Just like when a substitute teacher fills in for a regular teacher! But Pepe had big sandals to fill since we were all so in love with Carlos. Unfortunately, Carlos is not as perfect as we thought because he said we would love Pepe.

Everything started off fine with our new schoolmaster. He let us pose for pictures inside of giant tortoise shells and then took us along some paths where we observed giant land tortoises doing what giant land tortoises do: eat passionfruit, drink water, and have sex right out in the open for all the tourists to see. Perhaps that's why red state school boards hate evolution so much; there's lots of hanky panky going on down in Darwin's old stomping grounds! We heard the porno sound before we even saw them. It was a loud, guttural moan that reminded me of that one scene from The Dark Crystal (hey--they kind of look like turtles!). Since we are all adults, we couldn't resist posing by the pair. I got a phoon while Kim and Upasana decided to mimic what the tortoises were doing which they thought of all on their own (ahem) without any suggestion from me.

Once Pepe saw the girls mounting each other for photographic fun, he gave us a stern lecture about "respecting" the wildlife. I have to admit, he had a point. After all, the whalers of the past almost drove the giant land tortoise to extinction by making fun of their shells and mocking their sexual positions. Pepe's attitude towards our group seemed to harden after that incident.

After the tour of the tortoise sanctuary, we got to play some more inside the giant tortoise shells. Whenever Laura pulled out her camera, Dolphin Trainer™ did what he could to get into the shot. I guess the only thing left to accomplish in your life once you become a dolphin trainer is to be immortalized in a photo in a USA Today story.

We visited a lava tube near the ranch before hopping into the bus for the ride back to Puerto Ayora. Back on the Galaxy, we gathered in the lounge where Headmaster Pepe introduced himself officially. He announced that he was way more strict and less fun-loving than Carlos without using any of those words. Pepe really was the uptight teacher while Carlos was the cool substitute. That's right, play time was over and schoolwork was about to begin. He went over basic rules for the new passengers on board by first asking each of us "veterans" to name a Galapagos park rule. I don't recall what rule each person recited, but I do remember Dolphin Trainer™ proudly looking over to Laura after he gave a rule as if to say, "Oh yeah, I'm the one you need to interview if you want the *real* story, baby!"

I did learn a new tidbit from Pepe. He said it was OK to brush your teeth with the sink water. This was something I had been avoiding all trip due to internet warnings. Dolphin Trainer™ continued to use bottled water for the rest of the trip, but I took a chance and I don't regret it one bit even though my teeth became gangrene and are sitting inside a jar next to my bed right now.

Another difference between Pepe and Carlos was that Pepe referred to the dinghies as pangas. OK, still not as cool as Zodiak, but a definite improvement over dinghy. However, I shall still call them dinghies in honor of Carlos. After dinner on the Galaxy, we all went back to Puerto Ayora and got to hang out around town for two hours. The first thing we noticed were all the little kids hanging out at the park with their parents despite it being way past their bed time. Clearly with their no-bedtime-for-children attitude and their cohabitating amongst giant humping tortoises lifestyle, this island would be a blue state in the USA.

The chicas decided to be cool and hang out with the chicos (as Dolphin Trainer™ and I were now called) and we walked to a street lined with little shops where locals sold trinkets and souvenirs. Sonia was looking for a deal and she bargained one person down to $3.50 for a tortoise figurine made of pure gold, but she walked away because she wouldn't pay more than $3. "It's all about the principle," she explained as Dolphin Trainer™ wondered aloud about what crazy souvenir would guarantee him a mention in Laura's USA Today article.

We stopped by a bar and played some pool and drank some alcohol. I caved to social pressure and let them buy me a drink. I always feel bad when that happens because it just seems like a waste of good alcohol. Yeah, I drank most of it, but it's like buying a movie ticket for Helen Keller--she's just not going to get the same enjoyment out of it as you are, sighty.

The chicas kept looking all over for some lady named "Mary Jane". Apparently, there were some locals who knew where she was, but I guess it costs money to see her or something. They went back and forth and Sonia kept piping in about "principle", but in the end I don't think they ever got to meet up with her although I hear they are all really good friends back home.

We bought some postcards, saw tourists riding up and down the street in a dragon tram, and ran into the Turkish couple from our dives earlier that day who were still upset about the "worst dive ever". At the end, we had to race to get back to the dock because Principal Pepe had warned the students that if we didn't get back to the dock before 10pm, he wouldn't wait or come back for us and the Galaxy school bus would leave us on the island and our parents would have to come pick us up.

We took the ding...eh, sorry Carlos, but dinghy really is lame. We took the pangas back to the boat and looked for the Southern Cross along the way. King Matus seemed to know exactly where it was. Kings usually have that type of knowledge since heavenly signs often foretell their fortunes. I'd say that having done cruises in both Antarctica and the Galapagos, I know I have seen the Southern Cross many times. But, I couldn't point it out to you for the life of me.

As the Galaxy left Santa Cruz heading south for its next stop, all the passenger students toiled on their homework before retiring to bed except for Dolphin Trainer™ who stayed up all night dreaming of starring in a USA Today article and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Laura Bly was awake in her cabin thinking about him, too.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 13 -- Galapagos Day 5 -- Santa Cruz -- Subsection A

2009-07-16T22:13:00.000-07:00

**(movie guy voice) In a world...Where blogs go unread forever...One man attempts the impossible...(explosions)...An ongoing series...(woman screams: "You can't finish this!")...Recapping his last vacation...(gratuitous visuals of smoking hot bikini chicks)...Becomes a journey...Of self-discovery...(more explosions)...Travel Blog....(musical crescendo)...'09...(quickening heartbeats)...Continues...(child whispers: "I see mustard stains")...Now.**

When Dolphin Trainer™ and I first began discussing a Galapagos trip, we both agreed that we wanted to do some scuba diving. We preferred a mix of both diving and regular land excursions, but, unfortunately no one offers that. We'd have to choose between a live aboard (which is basically nothing but diving) or a regular cruise with no dives. We chose the latter which was probably better for me since my diving skills are as good as my skills at concise blogging.

However, we decided to stay an extra two days on San Cristobal (where our cruise would end) to do some day trip dives. In case we couldn't find anyone to take us out those days, we convinced our travel company, Inti Travel and Tours, to set up two dives for us during our cruise for when we stopped on Santa Cruz island. While the rest of our group visited the Charles Darwin Research Station (seriously, do they have to name everything after that guy?!), we would do two dives and meet up with the group at the end of the day. It would cost us more, but we figured it'd be worth it.

We had to wake up early to get to the dock on time. Marjorie made a special breakfast for us and we left before everyone else awoke. Carlos was nice enough to escort us to the dock and wait for the dive shop to come pick us up. The day before, Carlos kept asking us what dive shop our tour company booked for us. I didn't know because I forgot to write it down. He asked if it was Sub-Aqua and I said I didn't recall what the name was, but I knew what it wasn't. And it wasn't Sub-Aqua. I was certain of that.

So, once the guy from Sub-Aqua arrived (oops!), we said goodbye to Carlos and thanked him for being such a great guide. Although he'd deny it, Dolphin Trainer™ wept openly as he gave Carlos an uncomfortably long embrace. I just shook his hand. The Sub-Aqua guy was on a bicycle so he got us a cab and we traveled to his shop which was less than five minutes away. Once there we got our gear squared away, met our female divemaster (who we will call MasterChica™ since she called all the guys chicos), and also met some of our fellow divers (one of which was a free-spirited hippy woman named Leslie? who was also happened to be a divemaster).

They put us in a cab with an young and experienced diving couple from Turkey and we drove a half hour or so from Puerto Ayora through the highlands to the Itabaca Channel where we hopped onto the dive boat and made our way to our first dive spot: Daphne Minor. At this point, I should reiterate my diving ability. I suck. Literally. I suck a lot of air, way too fast, which (among other things) makes me a poor scuba diver. I was certified in 2007 and prior to arriving in the Galapagos in March of 2009, I had logged only 17 dives. Most of the diving websites I found said they require at least 20 dives to allow you to dive in the Galapagos. Dolphin Trainer™ said it didn't matter and that I should lie. Maybe if I was a dolphin he'd care more for my safety. I didn't lie, so perhaps I'd should have been more wary of Sub-Aqua who apparently didn't care?

I remember during my certification class, they went around the room asking everyone why they wanted to learn how to scuba dive. I said, "I want to dive in the Galapagos" and one of the diving instructors laughed and shook his head: "You're gonna have to wait a looong time before you're qualified for that." Well, ha ha on him! I went anyway! So there!

Although, now I know why they recommend you be experienced.

Dolphin Trainer™, it should go without saying, is a diving expert since he practically dives everyday at work to clean off the gunk from the tanks where his tyrannical zoo keeps dolphins and other poor, innocent marine life cooped up in an unnatural environment forcing them to do circus tricks for food and let people gawk at them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Even on holidays!

Sorry, Flipper. There is no Santa Claus for you.

OK, back to my first Galapagos dive. Things didn't start off too well as someone pointed out that I put my wetsuit on backwards. Sure, it's a understandable mistake when it's your first time putting on a wetsuit, but not when you've already logged 17 dives. I was the last one to get in the water. They split us into two groups and I descended following MasterChica™.

We swam against a pretty hefty current and it didn't take too long for me to fall behind. I don't recall seeing anything more than some starfish. Being the air hog that I am, I saw that I was running low on air, but I couldn't catch up to MasterChica™ to tell her. Then, they all went over a ledge and disappeared. I knew I couldn't follow, but I also kept thinking that you should never leave without telling anyone or be alone in general. Finally, I decided I wasn't going to die in the Galapagos, so I surfaced by myself. Not long after I came up, a lady popped up out of nowhere and had the same story: she couldn't keep up with the group. I'll tell you what, it really feels good knowing you're not the only moron.

Surprisingly, when I got back to the boat, Dolphin Trainer™ was already there! And he wasn't happy. Apparently, the "divemaster trainee" that led his group made them sit on the bottom for 15 minutes and then told Dolphin Trainer™ to go back up with a guy who was low on air despite Dolphin Trainer™ having more than half of his air left! When the Turkish couple came back into the boat they were extremely angry also. "Worst dive ever" said the girl. "Worst dive ever."

So the boat was pretty quiet as we made our way over to the next dive site. The crew knew that everyone was unhappy (except me because, hey, it was just a regular dive for me!). We saw some dolphins and the boat chased them for a bit in an attempt to say, "Hey--look at the dolphins! Bet you don't feel ripped off for paying lots of money for a crappy dive now, huh? Cause look, them are DOLPHINS!" MasterChica™, by the way, didn't say anything to me and seemed to be unaware that I surfaced early.

We arrived at our second dive site, Isla Mosquera, and ate lunch. I listened as Leslie? the hippy divemaster explained that her biggest problem is not using enough air. Apparently, she can dive for two hours straight because she forgets to breath sometimes. Oh, to have that problem! Dolphin Trainer™ snorkeled while everyone ate in hopes of salvaging his bad dive experience. For the second dive, MasterChica™ took Dolphin Trainer™, the Turkish couple, and the other experienced divers while the "divemaster trainee" took me and the other losers. This time our group stayed together. As always, I surfaced early, this time with the same lady as before and her husband (who was the guy that Dolphin Trainer™ was forced to ascend with in the first dive).

They both seemed worried that we were in open water danger and they actually swam to the shore because they thought the sea was too rough. When I first talked to this older couple in the morning, they said they had done like 80 dives. But they were as bad as me! I hope that's not me 60 dives from now. They seemed to think nothing was wrong with their diving skills and Dolphin Trainer™ says that's what separates me from them--at least I know I am crap and want to get better.

Dolphin Trainer™ said his second dive was great. He saw a school of 20 sharks swim over his head. If only he could have forced them into a tank and charged people to see them, then he would have really felt at home. We did not tip anyone at Sub-Aqua. Dolphin Trainer™ didn't want to and from talking to all the other divers (including the Leslie? the divemaster with gills) none of them tipped either. All were unimpressed with Sub-Aqua.

Although we had no problem skipping the Charles Darwin Research Station to do some dives, we still wanted to do the 2nd scheduled excursion of the day, which was a trip to the highlands where you can see giant land tortoises in a more natural environment. We didn't know if we'd be back in time, so we paid extra to have Sub-Aqua coordinate our own private tour. We didn't realize that our private tour would be just a cab driver taking us there and giving us a "tour" even though he hardly spoke any English. Sub-Aqua wanted to save money, so they convinced the Turkish couple to join us (so they wouldn't have to pay for a separate cab for them).

We had a nice chat with the Turks in the cab and they gave us good advice on dive sites around the world. When we arrived at the highlands, we saw a bus that said "Galaxy" on it and we found that our group had just arrived. We bid adieu to the Turkish couple (who then got the cab driver guided highlands tour) and we rejoined our group where we met our new naturalist guide for the rest of the trip.

His nickname was Pepe and it didn't take long to realize that he was not Carlos. In fact, he was the complete opposite of Carlos. At this realization, Dolphin Trainer™ wept openly once again.

Will Dolphin Trainer™ regain his composure? Will Pepe win the hearts of the chicas? Will Brandon ever finish this blog series? These questions and others might possibly be answered in Part 14 -- Galapagos Day 5 -- Santa Cruz Subsection B!

Coming soon to a blog that looks a lot like this one.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 12 -- Galapagos Day 4 -- Santiago and Bartolome

2009-07-08T22:10:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. It's taking a bit longer than expected, but don't worry, as soon as I'm finished I'll catch up with blogs on current events including my take on this whole Clinton/Lewinsky scandal.**

Each day before dinner, we would meet in the lounge for a half an hour and have a briefing where Carlos would recap what we saw and did and preview what we'd do tomorrow. Some passengers were very interested in writing down the names of all the things we saw while others just thought to themselves, "When I blog about my trip, I'll just make stuff up and no one will be the wiser." You know, just like that "sea lion" creature I made up that you bought into hook, line, and sinker. Yeah, like lions live in the sea. Duh!

When I went to Antarctica, there was a group of birders on board who always carried around binoculars and a checklist. Sometimes there'd be a shout and all the birders would run to the deck to see a "lifer" bird which is the term for when you see a species of bird for the first time and can check it off your "life list." I glanced at one veteran birders list and next to the word "Sex" was an unchecked box. If Peeping Tommery wasn't socially unacceptable, I bet birders would have much more interesting life lists.

In the lounge there were two menu-sized laminated charts of all the colorful Galapagos sea life so we could identify what we saw while snorkeling. Some passengers would study them intensely every day. The charts were loved so much that when they went missing for a day or two near the end of the trip, all hell broke loose until Upasana admitted to stealing them just to sleep with at night because she adored them so much.

On day 4, before our first excursion, Carlos forced us to watch a documentary on lava. We learned about the two main types of lava flows: A'a and pahoehoe. At least, I learned about them. Everyone else feel asleep. They were either too hung over from the equator party or had horrible flashbacks of trying to stay awake during one of their 8am college classes. Man, those were the worst!

With the Galaxy safely anchored in Sullivan Bay, our dinghies landed on the shore of Santiago island, home of a very recent (geologically speaking) eruption a little over 100 years ago. Carlos pointed out that we were walking on pahoehoe and so I excitedly checked it off of my lava life list. Even though the lava trail was very rough and jagged, Carlos walked barefoot which impressed the ladies to no end. They were even more impressed when we serendipitously came upon a bed of hot coals where Carlos executed a series of gymnastic flips and tumbles and nailed the landing without even a grimace.

During the hike, Sonia, Kim, and Upasana joined me for a group phoon (look at that lovely pahoehoe!). When the hike was over, we rejoined Robert, Janet, and Maggie who were told by Carlos to stay back since the hike would probably be too much for Robert to handle. I felt a bit sorry for Robert and Janet since, at times, they had a different trip than the rest of us. Plus they had to sit there and listen to Maggie go on and on about her undying love for me. I'm sure that got old after awhile.

After the hot hike, Matus remarked, "They say Galapagos is like heaven, I think it is more like hell!" Come to find out, Matus and Milena had never really heard of the Galapagos and were told by a friend that it was like Hawaii. They thought they were going on a nice, relaxing, scenic cruise through paradise. Instead, Carlos had them hoofing it through bleak, desolate landscapes and constant snorkeling like there's no tomorrow. It was a tribute to Carlos' personality that the King and Queen of Slovakia acquiesced to his itinerary and didn't order his head to be chopped off.

In Sullivan Bay, we had the best snorkeling of the entire cruise. We swam with sharks, sea turtles, and some marbled rays that were mating. Near the end, Carlos had everyone gather in a circle, hold hands, and face down into the water. He dove under us and held his breath for like 15 minutes while taking dozens of pictures for everyone with waterproof cameras. I have yet to see any of those pictures. Maybe I had my eyes closed and ruined them all?

As the Galaxy made its way to our next anchor point off of Bartolome Island, we passed other boats one of which was very small and shabby-looking. Suzanne recognized the name of the boat from her Galapagos cruise research and remembered that it was the cheapest one she could find. We were all glad we didn't choose the cheapest cruise as we watched their passengers swab the deck and fish for their meals.

On Bartolome, a wooden boardwalk with 358 steps leads to the top of the island where you can see this popular view and where we took a group photo. Although we appreciated the boardwalk, I bet whatever tourist accidentally dropped all that non-indigenous wood from their pockets got an earful from the park staff. Obviously, the park has since made peace with that ecological disaster.

We were accompanied to the top by some curious juvenile Galapagos hawks who occasionally stopped on the railing and forced us to violate the park's two meter distance rule. Carlos encouraged us to lean forward and let the hawks play with our hats. Sure, it's fun, ha! ha! until away your hat goes and your shaved head without sunblock is exposed to the sun. So I declined. It didn't matter anyway because the hawks weren't in a playful mood. Even Carlos the Beastmaster couldn't convince them to take his hat.

And trust me, he really was the Beastmaster because during the afternoon snorkel, we watched in stunned amazement as Carlos called out to a colony of Galapagos penguins using whatever language penguins use. I don't know what the conversation was about, but I assume they touched on the weather, the stock market, and all the latest Hollywood gossip.

That night, Dolphin Trainer™ and I played more card games with Kim, Sonia, and Upasana who by now were referred to as "the chicas". Carlos was the first to call them "chicas". They acted like they were offended by such "sexist" language but deep down they knew that Carlos could punch them in the face and demand a beer and they'd still love him because he doesn't really mean it and the bruises are just cause they're clumsy. Carlos ended up joining us at the table as gambling addict Kim once again taught us card games even Doyle Brunson has never heard of.

We even played the party game "Murder" or "Mafia" or whatever it is called (seems like everyone calls it something different). One time I thought for sure Carlos was the murderer because of his suspicious smile. I was wrong, of course. He was probably just thinking about the time he communicated with a mythical "sea lion".

It was a bittersweet night because it was our last night with Carlos. He was just filling in for a few days because the guide we were supposed to have had an emergency and couldn't do the first part of the trip. Our cruise itinerary had two legs. Robert and Janet only booked the first leg and would be leaving the next day (with Carlos) once we landed on Santa Cruz. We would not only pick up a new guide, but also some new passengers. Everyone else was staying for the entire week.

Back in our cabin, Dolphin Trainer™ and I discussed how much we would tip Carlos. Once we settled on a sufficient amount, we both got ready for bed. Before we turned the lights out, I pulled out my notebook and checked "Play Murder with the Beastmaster" off of my life list. Yeah. Beat that, birders.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 11 -- Galapagos Day 3 -- Genovesa

2009-06-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. If you feel you have reached this blog in error, please remain online until an administrator assists you.**

Welcome to those of you who skipped ahead from Part 8! Quick recap of what you missed: A United Nations special forces unit kidnapped Dolphin Trainer™ and I in Quito to convince us to use our mathematical prowess and hand-to-hand combat skills in order to deflect a terrorist controlled comet that was careening towards Earth. Long story short, we are now on day 3 of our Galapagos cruise.

During the night, we passed the equator line heading north. Unfortunately, I was asleep and therefore unable to find out what color the line is. Sure, on most globes it is blue, but on others it is white or brown. Sometimes it even has a strip of tape on it. That would have been awesome to see! Hopefully I'd be able to solve the mystery since we'd pass it again on the way back. Of course, I should have just paid more attention when we visited the equator in Quito!

Genovesa Island was our day three destination. Nicknamed "Bird Island" due to its abundance of #33 Boston Celtic jerseys, this horseshoe shaped caldera is the northernmost major island of the Galapagos. Our breakfast that morning was interrupted by five dolphins who went bow riding for about 15 minutes or so. Bow riding is something lazy young dolphins do when they want easy propulsion. I presume adult dolphins frown upon the practice while the real old timers complain out loud, "In my day, we didn't have fancy schmancy cruise ships pushing us all kinds of speed! We were lucky just to catch a baby ripple from a tipped-over canoe. But that's the way it was and we liked it!"

We anchored in Darwin Bay (boy, that Darwin guy really got around), hopped into the dinghies, and made a wet landing on shore. We saw red-footed boobies for the first time. They are the only boobies who nest in trees. These ones don't count. We saw lots of Great Frigatebirds and it was breeding season, so most of the males had inflated the red sacs at their throats in order to attract a mate. Whoever puffs up the biggest balloon gets the girl. I'm sure this would be Carlos if he was a Great Frigatebird.

Dolphin Trainer™ and I held back from the group at one point to get a good phoon shot and when we finally caught back up we saw everyone standing around waiting for us. As we approached, Dolphin Trainer™ turned to me and said, "Oh great. We're those guys now." You know who those guys are. Every group has somebody holding things up, not following directions, and completely oblivious to everyone else around them. We held our breath as we waited for Carlos to give us a stern rebuke. But he said nothing. In retrospect, I think Carlos knew that the inevitable lecture from our own consciences would be more than enough punishment. Boy, he'd make a great dad, huh?! Well, only if you don't include all the hundreds of little daddy-less Carloses his female conquests have birthed throughout the modern and developing world.

While hanging out at the beach waiting for the dinghies to pick us up, Suzanne took the opportunity to have Bill take pictures of her posing with Geist magazine, some kind of Canadian rag that encourages people to send in pictures of themselves reading the periodical in exotic locations in a desperate attempt to make people think the magazine actually has readers.

In a most adorable scene, we watched a baby sea lion nursing and snuggling with its mother. Upasana was so touched by the cuteness of it all that she vomited profusely right in front of them. It was one of those milky pukes that you could see oozing out between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth. Not surprisingly, the baby lost its appetite after that.

Then Suzanne thought it'd be nice to pose for a Geist magazine photo while sitting right on top of Upasana's liberated stomach chum. Oh those cRaZy Canadians! By the way, park rules are very strict--you are not allowed to bring any food onto the islands for fear of upsetting the natural ecology. So don't be surprised if 10 years from now Genovesa is off limits to tourists due to the invasive Canadian Barf Weed which has decimated the island's indigenous species.

We snorkeled twice in Darwin Bay and it was cold. Well, mostly cold. We'd hit cold and warm spots. Warm spots are nice unless you happen to be swimming behind Dolphin Trainer™.

In late afternoon, we did a second landing on the island, this time on the famous "Prince Phillip's Steps" which are rocky stairs carved into the volcanic wall. Phillip didn't carve them, he just walked on them. That's how the British are. They just walk over something and declare that you should now name it after them. Lord help us all if they ever walk on the moon.

We got to see Nazca boobies who get their name from the strange lines they make on the ground which, when viewed from an airplane, turn out to be intricate drawings of female breasts. Carlos told us to look for Short-eared owls out on the plain. With my binoculars, Dolphin Trainer™ tapped into his inner Miguel and Silvario and was able to spot one that was 500 hundred meters away, still as can be, and practically camouflaged against the background! We were all impressed until Carlos, with only his naked eye, one-upped him by pointing out that the owl had a cataract.

Back on the Galaxy, we were greeted (as usual after every excursion) with fancy drinks and snacks served by Marjorie our ubiquitous bartending/bed making/food server. She also captained the ship and even stood in for the anchor on occasion.

That night, Matus, the King of Slovakia, organized a Crossing-the-Equator party/birthday party for his queen, Milena. Apparently equator crossing ceremonies have a long tradition dating back to before sailors knew where the equator was which left them in an impractical state of constant celebration. Eventually, the equator was defined and the ceremony became a hazing ritual where first-time crossers (slimy pollywogs) became veteran crossers (trusty shellbacks) after undergoing some kind of punishment to appease King Neptune for crossing his domain. Many cruise ships continue the tradition today as did the Galaxy until recent economic cutbacks. However, thanks to King Matus and his Slovakian treasure chest, we were allowed to celebrate this beautiful, ancient ritual which often led to death back in the day.

Carlos dressed as Neptune by donning a mask, snorkel, and bed sheet cape. He topped off his costume by stuffing a pillow under his shirt and wielding a broom. All the women agreed that Neptune never looked so good except Suzanne who murmured something about an old incriminating photo of the real Neptune in Geist. Carlos/Neptune called each one of us up individually and forced us to drink a shot of "iguana blood" which, to me at least, tasted a lot more like a cross between the blood of a red footed booby and the blood of a bottlenosed dolphin.

After downing the concoction, Carlos hit us on the head with a stalk of celery and gave us new nicknames. Dolphin Trainer™ became "Spotted eagle ray", I was christened "Black tipped shark" and Upasana was named "Red footed chunks blowing booby". We got to eat delicious birthday cake since it was Milena's birthday party as well.

The ceremony complete, the party resumed in the lounge where Carlos plugged his laptop into the TV and we danced the night away to the sounds of his music playlist. Without the usual punchbowl to guard and protect, I was uncertain as to what role I should play at this dance party. I DJ'ed for a bit until I become frustrated with the complete lack of Xuxa songs. Carlos, meanwhile, bravely fought for his life on the dance floor as all the women repeatedly attacked him with wrestling-like "dance" moves, then ripped his clothes off and forced their tongues down his throat. It was quite a sight to see an estrogen-powered mob, buoyed by shouts of "Geist! Geist!" overwhelming the mighty King Neptune. Maggie was checking me out during all of this, by the way.

Despite the festivities, I remembered my mission and went up to the top deck in hopes of seeing the fabled equator line. I waited and waited. Minutes or perhaps hours passed. Just as my patience was beginning to waver, I finally spotted a line in the water. Could it be? Yes! I could hardly contain my excitement. There it was! And it was white. Yes sir, it was white as can be. Or wait...Suddenly, I wasn't so sure. Could it be green? Or...brown? What the? I decided my eyes were playing tricks on me until I heard a familiar sound from below. There on the bottom deck, leaning out over the rail, Upchucksana was once again disturbing the natural state of the Galapagos with a steady flood of thunderous chunder spewing from her mouth.

Never one to waste a good opportunity, Suzanne was there by her side, magazine in hand, pleading with Bill to take the ultimate Geist photo.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 10 -- Galapagos Day 2 -- Santa Fe/Santa Cruz

2009-06-18T21:19:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. If it seems way too long and overly self-serving that's because it is. It's really a personal travel journal pretending to be a blog.**

Life on board the Galaxy yacht had a fairly consistent routine. Here is a sample itinerary:

6:45am--Wake up
7:00am--Breakfast
7:15am--Matus' first drink
8:00am--Landing
10:30am--Snorkeling
12:00pm--Lunch
12:15pm--Matus' 20th drink
2:30pm--Landing
4:00pm--Snorkeling
6:30pm--Briefing
7:00pm--Dinner
9:30pm--Matus passes out

Our second day brought us to Santa Fe Island, a small island with two endemic species, the Barrington land iguana and the Santa Fe rice rat. An endemic species is one that is not found anywhere else in the world. A pandemic species is only found on geographic panhandles. Hallucinogenic species are found only in your mind.

We anchored in Barrington Bay and took the dinghies to shore. This was a wet landing which meant we'd have to step into the water to exit the boat. Carlos deemed the water a bit too rough for Robert to exit safely so he told Maggie to take Robert and Janet to the other side of the bay where our hike was going to end and we'd meet them halfway on the trail. On shore, we saw some sea lions, a Galapagos hawk, land iguanas, and hiked among Giant Opuntia (prickly pear) cactus trees. When we ran into Maggie, Robert, and Janet, we told them they didn't miss much (purposefully leaving out the part where the hawk swooped down, picked up an adult sea lion and dropped it on top of a cactus tree where a land iguana climbed up and swallowed it whole. We were all so mesmerized that none of us remembered to get any pictures or video of the event. It really happened. Trust me).

The snorkeling in Barrington Bay was quite nice. We swam amongst enormous schools of dark blue fish and watched in awe-induced silence as pelicans and blue footed boobies dove gracefully into the sea in order to violently rip innocent fish out of the water and maniacally chomp them into bloody bits. I spotted a sea turtle and alerted everyone to its presence which gave me such pride and satisfaction that I decided to blog about it and award myself with a homemade "Certificate of Sea Turtle Spotting" which is proudly framed and hanging on my wall right now.

Back on board, we were informed that because we locked our cabin, it did not get cleaned like the other cabins did. We thought that was odd. Don't they have a key? Is locking your cabin door in the Galapagos the equivalent of hanging a "Do Not Disturb" sign on a hotel doorknob? Considering our travel experience up to that point, I don't think anyone would fault us for locking anything that had a lock. But, we acquiesced and left it unlocked for the rest of the trip expecting to come back at anytime to find our cabin door covered with mustard. There was a small safe for our valuables, but--wouldn't you know it?--we ending up barely hiding that key among all the scattered items of our room.

We found out later that it was the bartender, Marjorie, who cleaned the rooms everyday and made the beds. Perhaps her primary job of mixing spirits might explain why sometimes the bed sheets were tucked in a such a way that only someone with body designed by Salvador Dali could reasonably negotiate their way into them comfortably. However, she was very talented at making towel animals that sat on top of our beds and greeted us everyday after the morning excursion. She made swans, rays, finch beaks, shot glasses, bloody marys, and some hallucinogenic species.

At lunch, once again, everyone sat at the same tables with the same people. As everyone knows, once you sit in the same place twice then--BAM!--that's your seat for the rest of the trip. Others voiced the same concern and Carlos promised to solve the situation because he's a take charge guy! He was kind of like Scott Baio from Charles in Charge. But it was Carlos in Charge. And yes, Carlos was in charge of our wrongs and our rights.

We left Santa Fe Island and headed for the northern part of Santa Cruz island. On the way, we spotted some dolphins and also saw some rays jumping out of the water and flipping in the air. Whatever the Galapagos National Park Service spends to train the rays to do that is well worth it. We stopped somewhere on Santa Cruz to fuel up and get supplies; so I took the opportunity to explore the boat. What I found was not encouraging.

I don't pretend to know all the ins and outs of Galapagos National Park cruise policy, but I can assure you that the Galaxy was in violation of one very important rule. I searched through the bookcase in the lounge and did not find one copy of On the Origin of Species! That's like staying at a hotel in Vatican City and not finding a Bible in the drawer. Sure, they had a copy of Darwin's journal, The Voyage of the Beagle, but how could they not have his seminal work in their library?! I was mostly disappointed because I had planned on finally getting around to reading it during the down time on the cruise. Oh well. They did have a stack of books by a doctor that grabbed my attention. Those ended up being very informative, especially the one about a turtle named Yertle.

That afternoon we traveled to Caleta Tortuga Negra (Black Turtle Cove), a swamp of mangrove trees on the north shore of Santa Cruz. Not only did we pick up supplies and fuel from our previous stop, we also picked up another crew member. His name was Nixon and he was one of the two dinghy drivers along with a creepy (according to the ladies) guy named Angel who had been with us since day one. Nixon fancied himself a gondolier in Venice who only knows Spanish songs. Yeah. It was lovely. Lovely, that is, if you enjoy the desire to stab your ears with the barb of a stingray to lessen the pain.

Unfortunately, Dolphin Trainer™ and I got on the dinghy piloted by Nixon and led by naturalist guide-in-training Maggie. Now, Maggie was very nice. But as a guide she was...well...let's just say she's a very nice person. She's very introverted which isn't so good for a guide, and her English wasn't that great which isn't so good for a bilingual guide. So she didn't say much at all. But she did look at me a lot which, obviously, meant that she had the hots for me.

There are protected parts of Black Turtle Cove where motors are not allowed, so we paddled in those areas. Carlos' dinghy was leading and they went first into one section where we couldn't follow. All we saw were a bunch of flashes from digital cameras. I guess it was pretty spectacular, whatever they saw. Meanwhile, everyone on our boat sat quietly as Nixon's Galapagos Idol audition continued.

We did get to see rare green sea turtles mating. That was nice. I noticed Maggie give me a quick glance as we watched which confirmed what she was thinking about. I think Nixon and Angel were jealous of Maggie's crush on me and I could hear them talking trash in Spanish. I don't know what was said exactly, but I did hear the phrase "muy feo" (very ugly) thrown around. Maggie, however, defending me bravely with a retort of, "No feo!" I thought of jumping in to defend myself, but I doubt my high school Spanish arsenal of "¿Dónde está el baño?" would have done much good.

There were also black tipped reef sharks patrolling the cove. Carlos was sitting on the edge of the dinghy with his bare feet in the water and one of the sharks nudged against his toes. Carlos laughed and didn't move. He wasn't worried. Even the sharks knew who was in charge. That's right. Carlos in Charge, buddy!

Carlos even stuck to traditional sitcom format and solved the big problem of this episode during the final act. At dinner, he came up with a brilliant idea to number each seat and then had us draw numbers from a hat guaranteeing that we would all sit next to random people! Genius! He even cloned himself so he could sit at every table. Multiple genius!

That night on the sun deck, Dolphin Trainer™ and I hung out with the three girls for the first time and listened as they proclaimed their undying love for Carlos. Then they listened as Dolphin Trainer™ and I gushed about our man crush on him. We ended up playing card games with Kim and Sonia while Upasana drew "I love Carlos" hearts in her Britney Spears diary. Kim, by the way, must have been a Las Vegas dealer in a previous life because she knew more card game rules than that Hoyle guy.

As the Galaxy headed for the equator and our next destination, a sea lion hitched a ride with us by jumping onto the stern of the boat in order to avoid a circling shark. We named him Buddy Lembech. He fell asleep and was gone by morning so anyone can venture a guess as to the outcome. I'm an optimist so I'm going to guess a happy ending.

For the shark.

They need to eat, you know.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 9 -- Galapagos Day 1

2009-06-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I vow to finish it before the 100th anniversary of said vacation.**

OK, you've waited long enough. Now let's talk about boobies!

Blue-footed boobies, that is.

Pervert.

On the morning of March 10, 2009, Dolphin Trainer™ and I took a cab to the airport and for the fourth time paid a totally different fare for the exact same route. I guess cab fares in Quito are like stock prices. They rise and fall each day, reacting to the volatility of traffic.

We had to go through an additional inspection for our baggage to be allowed into the Galapagos because the flora and fauna on the islands are so sensitive to introduced species. To ensure that the delicate ecosystem was not disrupted, they made every effort to hardly look at our bags at all as we went through the special inspection station.

From Quito, we flew to Guayaquil, the second of Ecuador's two "fabulous" cities, to fuel up for the 600 mile journey west to the Galapagos. That stopover lasted 45 minutes and I learned that they won't let you use the restroom while the plane refuels. Note to terrorists: threaten to flush during fuel up to guarantee that your demands will be met.

On our flight to the islands, we noticed some passengers wearing blue "Galaxy" buttons on their shirts. The Galaxy was the name of the yacht we would be traveling on during our cruise. Our travel agent gave us those same buttons and I asked Dolphin Trainer™ if we should put them on so people could identify us. He shook his head and explained that we were still in high school and it wasn't "cool" to wear our buttons during the flight. Then he adjusted his letterman jacket, gave a skinny nerd a brown swirlie, and went behind the gym to smoke a cigarette.

Our destination island was San Cristobal, the second most populous Galapagos island and home of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, the capital of the islands. We landed on a small runway, got off the plane, and waited outside in the hot sun for a few minutes before they opened up the airport for us. Seriously, the doors were locked when we arrived. I think the janitor finally let us in.

While waiting in line to go through customs, we noticed three girls in their twenties wearing their Galaxy buttons and we suddenly decided that it was now the "cool" thing to do. After getting our bags, we met our naturalist guide for the cruise. His name was Carlos and he looked like a South American John Stamos. Everyone on our trip, including all the men, were smitten by his soap opera star good looks, adventurous spirit, and practically unintelligible accent. We asked Carlos if we should put our Galaxy luggage tags on our bags (since we forgot to do it before we checked them in Quito), but he said don't bother since they'll easily figure it out. OMG! Isn't his decisiveness positively dreamy?!

Including us, there were 11 Galaxy passengers. As we waited for everyone to get their bags, we met four of them: Bill and Suzanne from Winnipeg, Canada, and fellow Americans Janet and her dad, Robert, from Ohio. Robert, who was somewhere in his eighties, was clearly going to be the oldest passenger on the boat, and he had quite the sense of humor. At least, I think he was joking when he talked about the last time he visited the Galapagos with "good ol' Charlie" Darwin.

We took a short bus ride into town and were given 10 minutes to shop for last minute essentials before boarding the Galaxy. For me, that meant wondering if I brought enough sunscreen and pacing around a convenience store debating the pros and cons as if it were a Solomonic decision. For Dolphin Trainer™ that meant calling his girlfriend for the two-billionth time. For two of the three twenty-somethings, that meant stuffing their faces with ice cream.

We boarded an inflatable boat which Carlos consistently referred to as a "dinghy". The same type of craft was called a Zodiac when I went on my Antarctic cruise in 2005. Clearly, awesome-sounding names are not a priority in the Galapagos. As we motored out to the Galaxy, I asked the three twenty-somethings their names.

"Sonia," said one. Oh, that's easy, I thought. I can remember that.

"Kim," said another. Sure, no problem. Two for two.

"Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda," said the third. Uh...what? I repeated back what I thought I heard, asked her to spell it, and then nodded my head as if it was now in my permanent memory. I'm not very good with names in the first place, but Upasana (her actual name) had just signed on for a week's worth of "hey you's" from me.

The first thing we were told when we got on board was that we couldn't wear shoes on the boat. Apparently, this was a Japanese yacht. Actually, we could wear shoes on board if we didn't use them on any of the landings. Not being female and therefore genetically predisposed to bring 20 extra pairs of shoes on a cruise, I'd either have to go barefoot or use socks. And since I have toes that look like a bristlecone pine (plus I was smart enough to not cut my toenails before the trip) this meant I'd be rocking the boat with my socks on.

We were invited into the lounge to relax and enjoy some cocktails while our bags were put into our rooms. Carlos had everyone introduce themselves one at a time and say where they were from. We were finally introduced to Matus and Milena from Slovakia. Although they never said so, I believe them to be the King and Queen of Slovakia. Being humble, they probably just wanted to be treated like everyone else. They must be kind and gentle rulers of their exotic land and we enjoyed the tales of royal adventure they shared with us.

The three girls turned out to be from Canada (the Toronto area). So we had five Canucks in total which meant we'd be hearing a lot aboot maple syrup and hockey, eh? Almost everyone said what country they were from whereas Dolphin Trainer™ and I only had to say our cities, Chicago and Las Vegas, because I think it goes without saying that America rules the world with a mighty fist.

The crew, dressed like they were ready for the 1991 Tailhook Convention, was introduced and we all toasted to the beginning of our trip. Then we were informed that there were two unidentified bags and they didn't know what room to put them in. Apparently we should have tagged our bags after all (although simple math on their part might have come in handy). At first we blamed Carlos for steering us wrong, but then we remembered the "Full House" episode where he played drums with The Beach Boys and our anger subsided.

We momentarily retired to our cabin as the Galaxy left harbor for our first destination: Isla Lobos, where our first group activity would be snorkeling. It had been awhile since I had snorkeled and I didn't start off too well. I did a back roll entry off of the dinghy and one of my flippers immediately came off. Thankfully, Maggie, the guide-in-training and Carlos' assistant, was there to help me put it back on. Perhaps that was the start of her infatuation with me. Oh yeah. We'll get to that.

It didn't take long for me to get comfortable in the water. Dolphin Trainer™ was swimming all around taking underwater video and photos and saving Kim from a "stone scorpionfish" which I think was a name he made up and pretended it was dangerous just so he could act like a hero. The real hero, of course, was Carlos who snorkeled without fins, mask, or snorkel and showed us how twisting around in the water encouraged the sea lions to play with us.

After our water fun, we had our first Galapagos landing on Isla Lobos. We saw marine iguanas, sea lions, and other stuff. I don't really pay attention to names. In fact, I hardly paid attention to any of the information Carlos gave us as I was too busy wondering where I'd pose for my first Galapagos phoon photo.

Our first day ended with a 7pm dinner. We sat with Bill and Suzanne and all they talked aboot was hockey and maple syrup, eh? Actually, we had lots to talk about and it was a very enjoyable meal. The food was great, but I don't remember what it was. It could have been stone scorpionfish for all I know. Near the end of the meal, they mockingly asked us why we were still wearing our blue Galaxy buttons. I looked at Dolphin Trainer™. He turned to look at me. We nodded to each other and then gave Bill a wedgie and Suzanne a titty twister for daring to insult the "cool" kids.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 8 -- Back to Quito (Twitter version)

2009-05-12T19:07:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. If you are bored, skip ahead to Part 11 where the real action begins.**

For those who don't know, Twitter is a way to send short messages (140 characters or less) via text or the web to whoever is "following" you. Although I have yet to send a "tweet" from my recently created Twitter account and I know hardly anything about the Twittersphere, I'm going to pretend that I twittered away on the 6th day of my vacation.

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Just woke up. None of my personal items were chewed last night. Makes me wonder if my bad luck is just waiting to strike later in the day.
5:35 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Feeling better this morning. I think my bathroom problems are finally over! Awesome!
5:40 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Never mind.
5:45 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Last breakfast at Napo. :( Will I ever eat dragon fruit again?
6:02 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Just gave Miguel my night vision scope as a gift. He seemed very appreciative and said he can't wait to try it out. I'm awesome!
6:10 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AmazonMiguel Oh joy. Yet another piece of crap night vision scope. Why do my clients think my night vision is so bad? Anyone need a doorstop?
6:20 AM March 9th from TweetDeck

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Got in one last phoon before we left. Check it out. I'm on the dock: http://twitpic.com/napophoon
6:29 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller On our last paddle canoe ride. :( Will I ever hear the horrific sound of howler monkeys again?
7:04 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Back at the Welcome Center, about to transfer to motorized canoe for trip back up river to Coca. Miguel is flying back to Quito with us.
8:01 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Wondering what kind of tip I should leave Silvario. Ideas? Anyone?
8:03 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silvario Bald client just told me "Don't eat yellow snow." wtf?
8:05 AM March 9th from TwitterBerry

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Tipped Silvario and the 3rd paddler (the teenage helper) handsomely. I'm awesome!
8:10 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller @ TrainsDolphins4Pay We were supposed to tip Some Other Guy™? Oops. Well, if he ever comes to Las Vegas I will park his car for free.
8:11 AM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

NoOneKnowsMyName Bald client stiffed me. Thanks, pal! Hope he works a tip job some day and gets no reward for his hard work.
8:15 AM March 9th from twhirl

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TopShaman Were those clients hip to our scam? I'm off to the gym. Check this future flow by BEP: ♫ http://blip.fm/~9nwc9 My gal Fergie is hawt!
8:17 AM March 9th from Blip.fm

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller Going up the Napo, pulled up next to a riverboat called the Manatee to drop off Portly Fellow™ and his odor. He's taking their tour next.
9:45 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Manatee Holy geez. Anyone have a few spare gallons of Right Guard?
10:00 AM March 9th from Seesmic Desktop

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Stopped to help a motorized canoe with engine trouble. It's full of locals speaking Spanish and laughing. I think they're laughing at us.
10:20 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BrandonMuller @ TrainsDolphins4Pay They're not laughing at us. "¿Dos gringos para una bolsa de caca?" is probably just small talk about the weather.
10:21 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Waiting in the small Coca airport lounge for flight back to Quito. Miguel is not sitting with us. Awwkwaard!
11:37 AM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Miguel must be dying to use his new night scope! He probably doesn't want to annoy me by asking me a bunch of questions about it.
11:40 AM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Back at our hotel, Los Alpes. Should I be worried that so far we have paid a different cab fare each time between the hotel and the airport?
1:00 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller We are talking to a lady at our hotel who went the Amazon the same time as us, but on the Manatee. Apparently they had to evacuate today.
1:12 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay I really need to go to the bathroom and this lady won't shut up! Thanks for leaving me with her, Brandon. This is not awesome!
1:30 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller We are hungry for lunch. Time to enjoy some fabulous Ecuadorian cuisine!
1:45 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Eating a Big Mac meal with soggy lettuce and a drink with ice cubes made from dirty water. My stomach is finally back to normal!
2:02 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Posting "Have you seen me?" flyers with a photo of my backpack all over Quito. Hopefully someone will recognize it. Never give up hope.
2:25 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MustardThief99 LOL--Someone is offering to "park your car in Las Vegas" in exchange for information about a stolen backpack! Oooo--so tempting!
2:36 PM March 9th from Twapper

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Waiting in line at a bank to get a cash advance and wondering where the "habla inglés" line is.
3:03 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Hey, if US dollars are the official currency of Ecuador, why not just go ahead and make English the official language as well?
3:04 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller How do I take my passport and credit card out of my hidden waist pouch without drawing attention to myself? I feel like I'm being stared at.
3:06 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

KetchupThief55 Oh lookey here. Someone's got a money belt! Anyone want an easy target? I'm only bothering with actual challenges these days.
3:08 PM March 9th from Hahlo

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Just called my girlfriend via payphone for the 86th time this trip. I'm awesome!
3:17 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Sitting outside the bank still waiting for Brandon to get his cash. He probably got in the wrong line.
3:31 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Oops. Apparently I waited in that long line unnecessarily.
3:32 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller How do I put my passport and credit card back into my hidden waist pouch without drawing attention to myself?
3:37 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Walking aimlessly around Quito as Brandon looks for a discreet place to stuff the $400 from the bank into his money belt. Moron!
3:45 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Sitting in my hotel room inspecting the Amazonian bug bite on my leg. It's not looking good: http://twitpic.com/yuckyleg
4:30 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Exploring Mariscal Sucre (tourist district) for a pharmacy so Brandon can get neosporin & band-aids even though amputation is inevitable.
5:14 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay We keep finding lots of places named "Ferreteria". I guess they really love ferrets here in Ecuador.
5:19 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Found a pharmacy! Time to play Spanish charades with the guy behind the counter.
5:35 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller So far so good. Hope their "antibiotico" tube is safe. Packaging looks like the Ecuadorian equivalent of Wal-Mart's trusty Equate brand.
5:37 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Rubbing my belly and acting sick got me some immodium (I want to be prepared in case I get Dolphin Trainer™ butt in the Galapagos).
5:41 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Success! He didn't know what I meant by band-aid so I switched to Spanish pictionary and drew one. Pictionary is easier than charades.
5:50 PM March 9th from txt
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TrainsDolphins4Pay Eating dinner at the restaurant at our hotel. They are not serving Big Macs which is seriously not awesome.
8:25 PM March 9th from txt

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BrandonMuller Checking my email at the hotel. Just packed everything for the flight to the Galapagos tomorrow. Good night, internets!
9:24 PM March 9th from web
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CuddlyCaiman Sweet! I just found a night vision scope that someone discarded in the river. I've been looking for a door stop!
10:10 PM March 9th from twidroid
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HowlinHowlerMonkey What time are we waking up the dead tomorrow?
10:17 March 9th from TwitterFox

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HackyTwitterBird Tweet, Tweet!
10:24 March 9th from Twitterrific

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlotte #followfriday: @WilburThePig He's some blogger! Terrific! Radiant! And very humble!

11:16 AM March 13th from web

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 7 -- Amazon Photos!

2009-05-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. Please forgive me as I interrupt my exciting text-only format to include an entry of boring old photos. We'll return to the usual text-only blog that everyone loves very soon.**

Dolphin Trainer™ has sent me all the photos he took on the trip. I should mention here that even though all my camera equipment was stolen, Dolphin Trainer™ happen to bring his own video camera and an extra waterproof camera along with his main digital camera. So, I did get to record footage and take pictures after all. Being on vacation and having your camera equipment stolen is like being castrated, so I thank Dolphin Trainer™ for giving me my balls back, so to speak.

The vast majority of these photos were taken by Dolphin Trainer™:

From Quito to Coca, we flew in Ecuador's newest and most sophisticated aircraft.

Here I'm reading Steve Martin's "Born Standing Up". I'm probably the only Amazon tourist to ever spend the majority of their visit thinking about Steve Martin's stand up career. Unfortunately, it detracts from your experience when every time you see a monkey you imagine it with a fake arrow through its head.

"Come visit the Napo Wildlife Center and leave civilization behind! Oh--and you can also surf the web with our high speed internet!" No joke--they did have internet access. It cost like $375 for five minutes, but when exotic birds are carrying your internet data packets, that's a bargain, my friend.

This was our cabana. 100% built by the Añangu community except for the stairs which were painted by Ronald McDonald.

My invisible friend Arthur and his girlfriend Leslie take in the view.

This is where the poopy paper goes! Looks like a smurf might have just taken a #2.

Dolphin Trainer™'s mosquito net bed. Note the sad intrusion of California values into the Amazon.

The lagoon the resort overlooks. One could only guess what silly made up creatures cryptozoologists think live in there.

Our guides, Silvario (with hat) and Miguel, relax during a mandatory 15 minute union break. We weren't allowed to ask questions during this time.

Dolphin Trainer™ and I with Some Other Guy™ in the back. If he looks unhappy it's because he's sick of watching Arthur and Leslie's inappropriate PDA behind us. I don't blame him.

The appropriately named "Stinky Turkey" is one of the reasons Ecuadorians are thankful they don't have to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Looks like the beginning of a nice action shot, but in reality the Añangu are talented taxidermists.

The handy dandy Letter Opener bird.

Some Amazonian birds enjoy traditional Kabuki theater.

This species of bird wears blinders as a fashion statement.

Paddle on, Silvario! Miguel's gonna take another 15.

Parrots in the Amazon like to lick the clay all the way down to the tasty bubble gum center.

The Parrots Templar™ have guarded the entrance to this ancient cave for well over a millennium. The blood oath they took to protect the secrets contained within has cost them the joy of all the pirate shoulders, yummy crackers, and comfy cages in upscale American homes that their uncommitted contemporaries have enjoyed.

I caught these so-called "wisest" creatures of the forest flushing their toilet paper straight down rather than discarding it into the trashcan. Tsk, tsk!

An Amazon peepshow.

"Hey man, let me see, too!"

Can you imagine how funny this monkey would look in a King Tut costume? I did.

This frog is dreaming of retiring in France where frogs are loved and respected.

This cute little froggie is learning about the birds and the bees via Arthur and Leslie.

Silvario, Miguel, and Dolphin Trainer™ pay no heed to Yoda's warnings about what lies ahead.

Silvario demonstrates how the Añangu construct fiber optic cable out of leaves.

The stairs leading up to the tree canopy platform were built by the Añangu using only the scrap metal indigenous to the Upper Amazon basin and the ultrasonic welding techniques passed down through generations of oral tradition.

We were so high up in the canopy that from this height, the Bullet ants looked like just regular old ants.

Your typical MyAmazonSpace self-portrait.

This beetle was lucky enough to only lose one of his legs while many of his comrades lost their lives in the epic Brandon Muller vs. The Bugs of the Amazon War of 2009.

Leaf cutter ants can clear five acres of rainforest before a Hollywood celebrity can make one phone call to plan a charity event to raise awareness for one lost acre.

Another lucky survivor of the war to end all wars, The Brandon Muller vs. The Bugs of the Amazon War of 2009. Check out his full body cast as he rests in the insect infirmary.

It's hard to gauge the size of this thing, so I'll put it this way: from front to back, it's almost the size of *two* sarphenikhart florbas! NO JOKE!!

A casualty of the infamous Brandon Muller vs. The Bugs of the Amazon War of 2009. I didn't like the cut of its jib.

You probably won't believe this, but to give you a true sense of the scale involved here, twenty glorrbentags could easily fit inside this spider! And its web could cover an entire cuwspe of plydisteri!! WOW!!

For, uh, diplomatic reasons, I decided not to involve any spiders in the historic Brandon Muller vs. The Bugs of the Amazon War of 2009.

Probably the most interesting aspect of all these insect photos is that each one was taken from my backyard garden whereas you think they are from the Amazon! Ha ha! Fools! If you are a long time follower of my blog, you wouldn't be surprised.

Unfortunately, here I looked up just in time to see Arthur and Leslie doing things that would make Bonobos blush. <--Click that link!

Did you know that bats hate to cling to wood? Well, now you don't.

I snapped this picture of either a rarely seen Giant Otter or the Loch Ness Monster vacationing in the Amazon.

The King of the Amazon Rainforest is so feared and so ferocious that the Añangu sacrifice a virgin to it during every blood moon to keep it from feasting on human flesh.

Just think, this monkey is performing a high wire act in the forest *FOR FREE* rather than capitalizing on its talents and making a name for itself on the Barnum and Bailey circuit. Stupid monkey.

These are two Wild and Crazy guys!...I mean, monkeys! Sorry, it was a good book.

Again, you can't tell from this photo, but trust me, this Anaconda was bigger than a quark! Up *or* down! HOLY WOWZERS!

Strippers in the Amazon, although very talented on the pole, are not very blessed in the looks department.

The dreaded caiman would be on top of the Amazon food chain if it weren't for the giant otter which itself would be at the top of the food chain if it weren't for the vacationing Loch Ness monster which itself would be at the top of the food chain if it weren't for the Amazonian squirrel.

Can't leave the Amazon without a phoon! Unfortunately, Arthur and Leslie's "pose" makes this phoon photo unusable for the family friendly phoon website.

_

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 6 -- The Amazon Day 3

2009-04-27T11:11:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. The movie rights to this blog have already been sold and Warner Bros. is in talks with Zac Efron to play the dreamy consonants, Miley Cyrus the innocent vowels, and Raven-Symoné the sassy punctuation marks.**

Our last full day at the Napo Wildlife Center began with the discovery of two small holes chewed through my pants which had been hanging on the wall not bothering anybody. The holes didn't lead to a pocket of forgotten snacks or anything like that. Just two random holes letting me know that if I thought I'd get through an entire vacation day without some kind of problem, I was sorely mistaken.

I can't remember if we had to wake up at 5:30am that day or we got to sleep in until 6. Either way, we had dragon fruit as part of our breakfast. MmmBop! That's a tasty fruit. I should mention that I found the food during our entire stay at the resort to be absolutely fabulous and I'm a historically picky eater. I still remember that breakthrough day back in high school when I finally tasted that "chicken" stuff everyone was talking about. It didn't taste like anything, by the way.

I loved everything they served us at the NWC, especially the gigantic avocado with tuna plopped inside. It's too bad Dolphin Trainer™ missed out on lots of the food due to his tummy issues. He either had to skip meals or eat a specially created "this will make you feel better" meal (and we all know how delicious those are). The bartender, who looked like a South American Simon Cowell, often served Dolphin Trainer™ a special drink to settle his stomach and would then insult him for having "no drinking talent whatsoever" and a sickness that was "completely lacking in originality".

The great thing about mornings in the Amazon is the lovely sound of distant howler monkeys. I think horror film sound crews must travel all the way to the Amazon just to record howler monkeys for all their monster audio needs.

As we listened to the Amazon's Evil Dead soundtrack, we took a canoe ride around the back side of the lagoon. It looked like we were traveling through Dagobah and I kept waiting for a sunken X-wing fighter to bubble to the surface. After a short hike, we made it to the NWC's canopy tower where a winding metal staircase leads 125 feet up to a platform that sits on a Kapok tree and offers tremendous views of Yasuni National Park.

Miguel set up his telescope and soon he and Silvario were spotting birds (which Dolphin Trainer™ hates). In short time, we were joined by two more guides and their guest, a portly fellow who I honestly didn't think would make it up the stairs. I never give people enough credit and, no, I didn't think Susan Boyle would be able to sing a lick, either.

I should mention that on this day we were supposed to add four more tourists to our group, but they canceled and so we had Miguel and Silvario all to ourselves for our entire trip. I'd also like to mention that Portly Fellow™ had quite an odor about him. It was quite the scene: seven guys on top of a tree in the Amazon rainforest trying to ignore the pervasive aroma of portly sweat while birdwatching amidst the calls of demonic monkeys.

I am pleased to report that I found the first toucan of the day, especially since I love Fruit Loops! I was less successful locating a silly rabbit or a lucky leprechaun. My observational skills, however, weren't even in the same universe as the guides. They were able to spot birds, monkeys, zygotes, neutrinos, Waldo, and the elusive Higgs boson with hardly any effort. They even found a three-toed sloth which was very far away, barely moving at all, and almost indistinguishable from its surroundings. I say we commission them to find Osama bin Laden, Amelia Earhart, and my old Wang Chung mixtape (everybody did not have fun the night I misplaced that).

At one point, Miguel took out a little tape recorder and began playing specific bird calls in order to draw them in. And it worked! I don't remember what kind of bird it was, but it came closer and closer to the tree stand in search of its hidden pal. That was pretty cool. Apparently, Miguel had taped these bird calls over his own mixtape from his youth because later we were all surprised when he accidentally left the tape running and Menudo showed up.

Not to kick a dead horse like I did in my last entry, but, yes, Dolphin Trainer™ had to leave the canopy tower early to release his own wang chung into an uncovered pit toilet. He really should have taken photos of all the horrible places he had to poop. That'd make for a nice album on Picasa.

Back at the lodge, we ate lunch with Portly Fellow™ and his guide. The subject of malaria came up. Dolphin Trainer™ took the advice of his doctor and was taking anti-malaria medication whereas I took the advice of laziness (who wants to take the time to make a doctor's appointment?) and took none. Actually, I took the advice of my travel agent who said he never takes any when he visits Napo. Miguel and the other guide said that malaria is unheard of in the area because no one has it. Therefore, mosquitoes can't carry what no one has. I felt pretty good about my decision to risk it until Portly Fellow™ shared his story about contracting malaria in Africa and being in the hospital for 3 months and not fully recovering until three years later. Oh. So that's what I was risking? I might just visit the doctor before my next trip.

That afternoon we hiked for two hours in the jungle and saw Miguel purposefully disturb a Congo or "Bullet" ant nest and then warn us to stay away since the bite from one is strong enough to kill 100 zombie howler monkeys. Silvario painstakingly showed us how the Añangu take the leaves of a certain plant, manipulate them in some way, and then do something with them. Yeah, sorry, I wasn't really paying attention at the time, but I think it had something to do with either medicine or time travel. One of the two.

We hiked through a swamp to reunite with Some Other Guy™ (remember him?) and begin our canoe ride back to the resort. Before the sun went down, we actually got to see evil howler monkeys (click on that hyperlink to see one of my favorite videos on the internet--gotta love that woman!) and pray for their lost souls.

As the sun went down, Miguel's spotlight came out and we saw bats, fireflies, and caiman (spanish for alligator). We saw different size caiman, but none really large. I guess you can't get super large alligators in the Amazon because kids can't flush them down the toilet--they have to go into the trashcan with the toilet paper.

That night Dolphin Trainer™, who apparently thought he was one of the German tourists, settled up his enormous bar tab and got one sympathy "yes" vote from Paula. He also bought some t-shirts from their "gift shop" that said, "I visited the Napo Wildlife Center and all I got was the runs". We packed for an early morning departure and I spent our final night in the Amazon dreaming of howler monkeys eating the brains of Dolphin Trainer™ and then running to whatever outhouse they use immediately after.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 5 -- The Amazon Day 2

2009-04-23T20:32:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. Approximate date of completion will be December 21st, 2012.**

Although I was disappointed by the book collection at the Napo Wildlife Center, I was looking forward to finally sleeping in a bed covered by a mosquito net because it's not only protection against disease-carrying insects, it's also an impenetrable barrier against the Boogeyman who can never be completely stopped by a single bed sheet unless you're willing to risk suffocation.

Our cabana was quite cozy, in a Swiss Family Robinson meets the Holiday Inn meets the part in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Short Round says, "Feels like I step on fortune cookies" type of way. Our bathroom included a wastebasket for used toilet paper which is not unheard of in South America, or in gas station restrooms throughout the United States. This meant that rather than worrying about clogging up the toilet, I would now have to worry about overflowing a small trashcan instead. Then again, Dolphin Trainer™ with his perpetual sickness was the one spending the most time decorating the toilet paper collection in our bathroom.

There were no locks on the front door, but there was a safety deposit box in the room. They basically dared us to use it since they told us on the first night that no one had ever had a problem, but they would gladly give us the key for the box if we asked. Before the trip, I remember reading one traveler's online review of the Napo Wildlife Center that claimed that some of their belongings were missing from their luggage by the end of their stay. Considering that we had just been victims of thieves in Quito, I doubt anyone would be surprised that we just shrugged our shoulders and said, "Oh well. I guess our stuff will be safe." We certainly didn't want to offend the Añangu by asking for a key.

But we should have! Or maybe we should have asked for a room with rodent nets because I awoke the first morning with a nice hole chewed through my backpack and a bag of snacks inside that was chewed up as well. I don't know what the backpack gods had against me, but I must have done something to incur their frequent wrath.

On our first day at the Napo Wildlife Center, while Dolphin Trainer™ was in the bathroom trying to keep his large intestine inside his body, our guide Miguel asked me what we'd like to see most during our stay because he likes to tailor a unique experience for guests depending upon their preferences.

Miguel: Anything in particular you're hoping to see while you're here?

Brandon: Anaconda.

Miguel: There's a good chance we'll see one if the sun comes out. They hide when it rains.

Brandon: No, no, the movie Anaconda. I hear it's hilariously bad. J-Lo's pretty tight, though.

Miguel: ???

In reality, I told him I just wanted to see anything I've never seen before. And then I added, "We're not really into birds or plants." Yeah, I actually said that. I didn't realize it at the time, but that statement was the equivalent of going to the Giza Plateau in Egypt and telling a guide, "We're not fond of pyramids or ruins of any kind. And camels are pretty boring, too."

Later I recounted the story to Dolphin Trainer™ and he told me, "Speak for yourself, I love birds!" Well, sorry DT™, but that's what happens when, during trip-defining moments, you find yourself a captive audience in a bathroom as your body performs a tribute to Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.

Napo Wildlife Center is bird central! All birds, all the time. When Bambi was learning how to pronounce his first word, he would have felt right at home there. We awoke early the first day to go to some parrot licks which is where parrots (who were mostly green since Napo is an eco-lodge) gather to lick clay. We visited two separate clay licks and spent considerable time watching all the birds eat dirt. Dolphin Trainer™ spent considerable time in both places fertilizing the dirt at the bottom of outhouses. At the clay licks, you have to be silent and patient because the birds are very cautious of predators. Even though Dolphin Trainer™ fell asleep at the second clay lick because he hates birds, we both got to see some scarlet macaws which, when guilty, are usually found in the Library with the Candlestick.

The highlight of the day was supposed to be a visit with the local shaman who, according to Miguel, is "the most respected member of the community". He is a very busy man, but was going to take time out to demonstrate some rituals for us and hopefully cure the backpack hex I had fallen under. Before our scheduled meeting, we were taken to a workshop where members of the Añangu community make ceramics and wood carvings suitable for purchase. I'm not one to buy trinkets, but thankfully Dolphin Trainer™ always feels obligated to purchase souvenirs from locals. And it was good karma for him too, as he immediately had to run to the bathroom to leave some souvenirs of his own.

We were introduced to the shaman and told hang out on some hammocks prior to our personal audience with him. Unfortunately, we never did get our private session because we were soon whisked away to see some teeny little monkeys (or pygmy marmosets if you're one of those "into knowledge" weirdos). Later on I saw the shaman doing routine janitorial work and it made me wonder if "shaman" is an actual position or just something they take turns acting out to trick credulous tourists as if we're modern day Margaret Meads.

Añangu #1: "Whose turn is it to play shaman?"

Añangu #2: "I did it last week. Besides, my doctor says I need to stay off my feet."

Añangu #1: "OK. Hey, my daughter's cello lessons got rescheduled. Do you think your son can cover the 'naked kid who plays in the mud' shift tomorrow?"

Añangu #2: "No problem. I'll text him as soon as Dancing With The Stars is over."

On our way back to the resort, we saw a rare giant otter and even a small anaconda curled up on the river bank clearly disappointed with its lot in life. That's understandable. Imagine how you'd feel if the name of your species was linked to a movie like Eight Legged Freaks or Snakes on a Plane or Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?

A large group from Germany, who apparently thought Oktoberfest was a year round occasion, checked into the resort that day and at dinner one of them celebrated a birthday. We all got to eat specially prepared birthday cake except for Dolphin Trainer™ who was busy in our cabana making slithery anaconda-like droppings. The very lengthy birthday song they sang sounded more like a national anthem and made me curious if "Happy Birthday" is sung before German sporting events. I'm sure Norm MacDonald would be as surprised as I was that they didn't sing a David Hasselhoff song.

After dinner, Dolphin Trainer™ was well enough to go on a night hike. Miguel gave us some rain boots and he and Silvario led us on a trail along the outskirts of the resort. Armed with only flashlights, we spotted leaf-cutter ants, frogs, eight legged freaks, killer tomatoes, and lots of other creepy crawlies, some of which gave me bites that I still have blemishes from almost two months later.

A long day (and blog entry!) came to an end as I picked ants out of my underpants, showered in alternately hot and cold water, dried off with a towel speckled with dead flies, said a prayer to the backpack gods, and lay down inside my protective net wondering which Añangu was scheduled to work the Boogeyman shift that night.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 4 -- The Amazon

2009-04-09T22:35:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. My usual blog "Gardening Resources for the Manly Man" will resume when this series is over.**

I awoke on Friday, March 6th ready to fulfill a dream I've had ever since I first ordered books online: to travel to the Amazon! We flew from Quito to Coca (still in Ecuador) and were met at the airport by our naturalist guide, Miguel, who was a wealth of information about rainforest flora and fauna, but was surprisingly uninformed when it came to Amazon.com's return policy.

We boarded a motorized canoe and began a two hour ride down the Napo river which eventually feeds into the Amazon river which eventually feeds into the Atlantic ocean which eventually drops off the side of the earth, according to various 16th century maps and some people in Lancaster, California.

Our destination was the Napo Wildlife Center, an eco-resort owned and run by the local Añangu people who had a simple dream in the early 1990s: to build a Indian casino and siphon gamblers away from Las Vegas. Unfortunately, they did not have any ancestral land in the United States, so they were forced to settle on building a luxury eco-hotel in the upper Amazon basin. The Añangu community is unique in that they conserve 82 square miles of pristine forest by refusing to hunt or fish in the territory and therefore support themselves solely through eco-tourism.

We arrived at the "Welcome Center" and met our other guide, Silvario, a local Añangu who had a sharp eye for wildlife but a blank stare whenever I asked why some items don't qualify for Free Super Saver Shipping even if the total is over $25.

We transferred to a dug-out canoe and Silvario, Miguel, and Some Other Guy™ proceeded to paddle us up the Añangu river toward the lodge. It was exactly what you'd imagine a visit to the Amazon rainforest to be like: a meandering canoe journey through a convoluted thicket of trees and oversize vegetation pleasantly scored by a soundtrack of unseen insects, exotic birds, and distant calls from creatures you could hardly imagine and couldn't wait to spot.

Oh--and this is where Dolphin Trainer™ wanted to throw up.

Apparently, something didn't agree with his stomach. Perhaps it was the ceviche (or "soup of human mucus" as I like to call it) that he ate the night before. He suddenly grew pale and even stopped taking photos! When Dolphin Trainer™ stops taking photos, it's best to check for a pulse first before jumping to any other conclusion. After a few minutes of "Hey, now you're whiter than Brandon" jokes, Dolphin Trainer™ regained the color in his face and began stealing the souls of Amazonian wildlife once again.

It took about an hour and a half for our guides to paddle us to the lodge. Along the way, Miguel and Silvario pointed out many birds for us to photograph including the Hoatzin or "Stinky Turkey" which is a fun nickname to bestow upon your travel companion. At least, that's what Dolphin Trainer™ claims. Personally, I think it is not fun or funny at all.

Jerk.

In fact, if anyone was a "Stinky Turkey" while we were in the Amazon, I'd say it was Dolphin Trainer™ who unfortunately never fully recovered from his sudden sickness and spent a lot of quality time over the next 3 days adding to the human compost of the jungle.

When we arrived at the picturesque resort nestled on the shore of Añangu lagoon, we were greeted by the manager of the hotel, the bartender with welcoming drinks on a tray, and a bank of Wheel of Fortune slot machines (their dream came true!).

The resort consists of 10 native-style cabanas, a large dining hall, and a 50 foot observation tower. I could hardly contain my excitement as I ran up the cozy footpath to the main building. After years of anticipation, I knew this would be a moment to savor. I leaped up the steps and entered a place that, up to that point, had only seemed to exist in my imagination. Breathlessly, I tried to communicate my eagerness to one of the workers who clearly did not speak much English at all. After some moments of confusion, he finally understood and pointed to a corner of the dining hall.

And there it was.

Or...wasn't.

I found just one lousy bookshelf sparsely filled with less than 20 used books. I don't know where the hell Amazon keeps that huge inventory, but it certainly isn't at the Napo Wildlife Center.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 3 -- Quito continued

2009-04-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. Any similarities to blogs living or dead is purely coincidental.**

Where did we leave off? Oh, that's right, we had just been scammed by the Mustard Thieves™. So, after that fiasco, we did what any American tourist would do. We ate at McDonalds. Yes, nothing like the golden arches to renew your faith in humanity.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at an outdoor store where I bought a new backpack, headlamp, and beanie. When we arrived back at our hotel, Los Alpes (which probably means The Adirondacks in Spanish), I tried to explain to the lady behind the desk that my backpack was stolen and our hotel key along with it.

She didn't seem concerned. She just said "no problem" and had the maid open our door. We were paranoid and figured with our luck the Mustard Thieves™ would deduce where our hotel was by the colorful knit flower that was attached to the key and ransack our room while we were gone. So we hid our bags in the safety deposit box that most people refer to as "the closet".

As we walked to our 2pm equator tour pick up, we discussed how we were obviously walking targets in Quito so we devised a brilliant plan of deterrence. From here on out during the trip, we were now Canadians! Everyone knows Canadians don't get ripped off. Only dumb Americans do. We rehearsed our plan: We were from Calgary, Alberta where Dolphin Trainer™ worked at a zoo (very imaginative, there DT™) and I worked as a security guard at a strip mall. Take that you criminals of South America! If only we had arrived in Ecuador with such a security plan already in place!

Our first guide of the trip picked us up outside a tour company office. I couldn't tell you the name, so let's just go with Adirondack Tours (which is Los Alpes Giras in Spanish if you're reading this blog for school credit). He was a very nice fellow whose name escapes me at the moment so let's just call him Our First Guide of the Trip™. He immediately tested our target-worthiness by asking where we were from. I said, "Alberta" at the same time Dolphin Trainer™ said, "Calgary".

Uh oh.

Technically correct, but I think he caught the uncertainty in our eyes. We would definitely have to step up our game if we were to avoid another mustard scenario.

He drove us to the Inti Nan Solar Museum which is supposedly located (unlike the big Equator monument a mere 250 meters to the south) on the actual GPS-confirmed equator. I say supposedly because I read one guy on the internet who disagrees. That's good enough for my skepticism. (By the way, 250 meters is 250 feet for those of you unfamiliar with the metric system or the type of internet research I engage in).

Anyway, at the Inti Nan Solar Museum, for only $3 you can shoot poison darts, marvel at a shriveled human head, salivate over deliciously alive guinea pigs, balance an egg on a nail, wonder if the fellow tourist from "Las Vegas" is some plant assigned to your tour group specifically to break you of your deep cover, and finally, watch a "demonstration" of the Coriolis Effect with leaves and a tub of water like this.

If you watch that short video, you'll see the crowd be convinced that water flow changes drastically within a few feet around the equator. I, however, live in the age of science and I have discovered through my research that these museum guides are nothing more than practitioners of black magic who manipulate the laws of physics with evil spells and incantations. Do not be fooled by them!

After the equator museum, Our First Guide of the Trip™ drove us to the Pululahua Crater which was given to Ecuador as a gift from the Hawaiian islands back in 1825. It was nice and swell which means I really have nothing to say about it.

Our First Guide of the Trip™ eventually dropped us off at a Tatoo adventure gear store where I bought a light jacket. This is noteworthy only for what happened when we entered. As we walked toward the back of the store we were stopped by a man who pointed at our backpacks and then at some lock boxes near the front. OK, I'd seen those before, so we handed over our backpacks and went on shopping. And guess what? IT HAPPENED AGAIN! That's right, this time *both* our backpacks got swiped! Unbelievable.

Wouldn't that suck? Ha, ha! April Fools! However, in retrospect, I must admit that the guy wasn't that official looking and he did have to track us down to give us the key for the locker. So overall I'd say that less than 6 hours after being robbed we weren't too much the wiser for it.

The day ended in an authentic Ecuadorian restaurant with Dolphin Trainer™ eating some kind of disgusting-looking soup while I had some kind of chicken on my plate that was possibly a guinea pig. Or a shriveled human head. Either way, it was fairly tasty.

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 2 -- Quito

2009-03-30T01:10:00.000-07:00

**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I have nothing else to blog about except for, perhaps, my love of avocado. But that's more of a book, really.**

After a rendezvous with Dolphin Trainer™ in Miami, we flew to Quito, Ecuador. I spent most of the flight puzzling over what zany customs declaration to add to the form of the complete stranger sleeping next to me. I settled on $600,000 in unmarked bills.

We had a full day in Quito before our Amazon excursion so we booked a tour of the equator for 2pm and explored the city in the meantime. We visited the Basilica del Voto Nacional and climbed its towers. The Basilica is famous for its gargoyles of Ecuadorian fauna such as iguanas, tortoises, unicorns, etc.

As we were phooning all over the church, we noticed a very attractive woman walking around all by herself exploring the towers. She was wearing her backpack around her front, thus turning her backpack into a frontpack. She walked like she was pregnant. I thought to myself, "How paranoid do you have to be to wear your backpack like that?" I suppose it's smart for a single woman, but we were two manly men who wouldn't be caught dead looking like we were about to give birth to outdoor equipment. At least, those were my thoughts at the time. So it was ironic (if I'm using that tricky word correctly) that when we left the church, the following incident occurred:

I placed my backpack on the ground and invited the locals to steal it.

"¿La mía?" they asked.

"Sí" I replied as they quickly ran away with my belongings.

OK, it didn't quite go down like that, but it's a pretty good summary. A more detailed explanation breaks down like this: As we walked the streets, Dolphin Trainer™ noticed a bunch of gunk on his pants. Come to find out, it was all over his backpack and my pants and backpack as well. We stopped to clean off whatever it was and soon a local woman also stopped to unfold and offer a towelette. She seemed concerned and beckoned us to follow her, presumably to a water fountain.

She led us to the back of a restaurant where two sinks just outside some restrooms presented a nice place to clean our stuff. She eagerly helped us take off our backpacks and began cleaning our pants. Meanwhile, an older man appeared and slowly dragged our backpacks closer to the doorway. Dolphin Trainer™ noticed and quickly grabbed his backpack. I grabbed mine, but intelligently placed it on the floor again, thinking I only needed to keep an eye on this opportunistic fellow.

After sternly shaking my finger at the man, both he and the woman began pointing and pushing us towards the women's restroom. That's when Dolphin Trainer™ saw an arm reach around and whisk my backpack away. DT™ yelled something out and that's when I noticed it was gone. I wasn't sure if the thief went through the back of the restaurant (all the workers looked shady) or out the front door. I ran out the front door, but saw nothing.

And let me tell you, it felt great! Oh, yeah. Seriously, what a nice feeling it was! Sometimes, as I go through life and get caught up in the mundane happenings of each day, I often forget that I'm a complete and utter idiot. So it's nice to be reminded every now and then. Thank you, Quito!

I joked after it happened that it's probably a scam with it's own name and everything. And, indeed, it is! It's called the Mustard Scam™ or Bird Poop Scam™ and as I search the around the internet it appears that only *everyone* seems to know about it. Usually, it's a pickpocket scam as they clean your pants, but if you're lucky enough to target Brandon Muller, you might get away with much more.

Thankfully, my passport, wallet, cell phone, and keys were not in my backpack. What did I lose? My digital camera, video camera, cash, jacket, manhood, and lots of other little odds and ends. I don't know what would be worse, losing my camera/video equipment on our first full day or losing it on the last day? Probably the last, I imagine. So I lucked out. Thanks, Quito!

Odds are good that from now on you'll see me proudly wearing my backpack like a baby carrier. Maybe I'll even rent a baby to make it less weird looking. I will certainly be more than vigilant for the Mustard Scam™ next time I travel. Unless, of course, they use some condiment other than mustard. Then I'll probably think nothing of it:

"Why, yes, complete stranger! You *can* help clean this salsa and guacamole off my pants. If this was mustard, however, I'd be quite suspicious of you. Say, can you hold my wallet for a second while I taste this? Mmm...what kind of avocado is this made from?"

Travel Blog '09 -- Part 1 -- Intro

2009-03-25T23:53:00.000-07:00

Most people: "So, where did you go on vacation, Brandon?"

Me: "The Galapagos."

Most people: "The what?"

It's amazing how many people have never heard of the Galapagos islands. And even the ones who are familiar with them seem to have no idea where they are located.

Most people: "South Africa? ...The Iraq? ...Such as?"

For those of you who don't know, the Galapagos islands are located north of Gilligan's island, south of Atlantis, and east of the island on Lost (thanks Wikipedia!). This archipelago of volcanic islands has become a symbol of evolutionary theory ever since Jesus first visited them less than 6,000 years ago and invented finches and the beagle (thanks Institute for Creation Research!).

I traveled there with my friend and yearly travel buddy Mark who lives in Chicago and works in a zoo as a dolphin trainer. Some advice: if you don't like talking about your line of work while on vacation, I suggest traveling with a dolphin trainer. Trust me. No one cares about how many Toyota Corollas you have expertly trained to back up into small parking spaces when there's a Dolphin Trainer™ around. He eats a lot of tuna, by the way.

The Galapagos islands belong to Ecuador which is where we spent a little over two weeks including our pre-cruise visit to the Amazon rain forest. Unfortunately, Quito, the capital of Ecuador, also belongs to Ecuador and that's where our journey began. Here on this blog, I plan to meticulously document every step of our adventure. Or, at least what I can remember and/or make up since I took no notes other than filling up my travel journal with drawings of stick figures getting it on. Classy drawings, people. I'm no sicko.

So, rather than write one incredibly long post, I hope to write many short ones. Or maybe a reasonable amount of medium ones. Or, considering my blog track record, this might be the last you ever hear from me until two years from now. Whatever the case may be, I hope you'll join me as I recap a fantastic vacation that a poor, jobless slob like you could not afford to take in our current economic climate.

I think I'm starting things off on the right foot, no?

Brandon's 2005 Trip to Patagonia and Antarctica

2008-04-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

View Album

Get your own

SoCal memories

2007-11-19T01:42:00.000-08:00

Sometime in the past year I stumbled upon a Yahoo group dedicated to the memories of growing up in Southern California anytime between 1950 and 1990. I'm a sucker for reading posts about Cal Worthington and his dog Spot or Homer and JR, the Millers Outpost cowboys, so I joined up.

There is not much traffic on the group. Every now and then someone will start a list of old supermarkets they remember and encourage people to add to it or someone might ask, "Do you guys remember Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour? I loved The Pig's Trough!" The vast majority of the messages are PARTICIPATION POLICIES which the group owner sends out daily reminding us not to advertise and that we must participate or we will be banned. He's quite the Moderator Nazi. Thankfully, my lack of participation has somehow eluded whatever Gestapo he employs.

Recently, a gentleman by the name of Benjamin Edge has posted what I consider to be the most unbelievable messages I have ever read on an internet group. I feel like it is my duty to share them with the world.

Here is the first one:

Hi,

When "The Scooby-Doo/Dynomutt Hour" originally aired on ABC (and with
a slight moniker change to "The Scooby-Doo/Dynomutt Show" starting
December 4, 1976), I think the segment breakdown was as follows:

Opening title (one per show, 50 sec)
Scooby-Doo intro (25 sec)
Scooby-Doo, segment 1 of 3 (7 min)
Dynomutt intro (25 sec)
Dynomutt, segment 1 of 2 (11 min)
Scooby-Doo, segment 2 of 3 (7 min)
Dynomutt, segment 2 of 2 (11 min)
Scooby-Doo, segment 3 of 3 (7 min)
Promo for next week's show (15 sec)
Closing title (one per show, 45 sec)

When it was retitled to "The Scooby-Doo/Dynomutt Show" beginning
December 4, 1976, the extra 30 min of the show were devoted to the
original 1969-71 CBS episodes of "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?".

Let me know whether or not the segment breakdown is correct (this one
could possibly be answered by Aaron Handy III).

Regards,

Ben Edge

Believe it or not, I think he tops himself with this one:

Hi,

When "The Tom & Jerry/Grape Ape/Mumbly Show" had aired on September 11 - November 27, 1976 ("Grape Ape" would leave the block after this date), this might have been the proper segment breakdown:

Main intro (one per show, 1 min)
"Tom & Jerry" segment intro (30 sec)
"Tom & Jerry" segment, 1/3 (7 min)
"Great Grape Ape" segment intro (30 sec)
"Great Grape Ape" segment, 1/2 (11 min)
"Mumbly" segment intro (30 sec)
"Mumbly" segment (7 min)
"Tom & Jerry" segment, 2/3 (7 min)
"Great Grape Ape" segment, 2/2 (11 min)
"Tom & Jerry" segment, 3/3 (7 min)
Promo for next week's show (15 sec)
Closing theme (one per show, 45 sec)

For the re-titled "T&J/Mumbly Show" (December 4, 1976 - September 3, 1977) study the same breakdown but leave out the Grape Ape references, cutting out about 30 min from the block (this was due to the fact that "The Scooby-Doo/Dynomutt Hour," the new block item for ABC in 1976-77, gained an extra 30 min by way of adding the 1969-71 CBS "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?" episodes to the block).

Regards,

Ben

Can someone help this poor guy? He obviously can't sleep at night until he gets confirmation that, yes, indeed--those are the correct segment breakdowns. I can't help him. I personally refuse to leave out the Grape Ape references when I study the breakdown. I can only hope that the great Aaron Handy the 3rd has bravely answered this call.

You will not believe this!

2007-10-05T00:32:00.000-07:00

I don't blog very much

2007-03-19T00:23:00.000-07:00

I camped at Death Valley this past weekend, mostly to see The Racetrack Playa which has been on my to-do list for awhile.

I've seen people post photo blogs, but since I've already posted my pics and captions at the website of the group I went with, I'm not going to bother reinventing sliced bread, the wheel, or luggage on rollers.

So, here's the link. You can click on the photos to make them bigger. I posted just the first 25 pictures (I assume others will add their own as time goes on). I like a few of the captions I made, that's why I'm posting this.

http://hiking.meetup.com/161/photos/?photoAlbumId=141205

Atheism and the Caped Crusader

2007-03-04T02:37:00.000-08:00

Last Monday I had an opportunity to go back to the Christian school I attended (from pre-school through 12th grade) and give a lecture to the 12th grade philosophy class and 11th grade Bible class. The topic of my presentation? The case for atheism!

Yeah, I know, I can't believe it either.

The teacher has invited representatives of different religions (and atheism) to come throughout the semester and present the case for why their belief system is true. I think hearing opposing viewpoints from the people who actually hold them is vital, so I give the school lots of kudos for that. Unfortunately, only a Roman Catholic priest and I have taken up the offer so far. Any Raelians out there willing to travel to Hesperia?

It felt a bit strange to be back at my school for an atheist lecture. In the school office, I ran into my old 6th grade teacher, Mr. Card. He was one of my favorite teachers--the one who got me into astronomy. When he heard someone refer to me as "the speaker" he said, "That's great! What are you speaking about?" I gave kind of an awkward laugh and didn't answer. I'm not ashamed of my beliefs, but I really didn't feel like shocking the poor guy so early in the morning. Plus, I wouldn't want him to regret introducing me to science.

The talk itself went well. I was able to audiotape it and I had no idea one person could say "uh" and "um" 26 billion times within two 45 minute lectures. I'm thinking of contacting Guinness. Not to mention the fact that I took a sip of my soda after every sentence. I'm surprised I went through only two bottles of Sprite (my throat was sore and I consider Sprite to be sore throat medicine).

The school teaches a literal reading of the Bible and young-earth creationism, so I tailored my comments toward those beliefs. If most of the religious people in the world sat through my lecture they would have thought, "He's hardly refuted anything I believe at all. And why must he drink during every pause?"

Even though it cut into my time, I was excited to participate in a good ol' high school fire drill during the 2nd class. That really brought back the memories. The only way to top that would have been if I was there on kite day. Remember kite day? One year I brought my Batman kite only to see a kid with some kind of industrial strength razor string sever mine and send The Batman soaring out of the schoolyard. I'd like to think it landed in some dude's front yard and inspired him to avenge the death of his parents.

The students were courteous, paid attention, and asked thoughtful questions at the end. The Q&A was definitely the most enjoyable part. After class, some of the students told me I did a much better job than the Roman Catholic priest who apparently berated them during the Q&A because they were asking him questions he had difficulty answering. Perhaps he should have chugged some Sprite during his speech.

The one aspect I don't think I prepared for enough was the question of morality without god. I gave the basics, but I really didn't think of a good way of explaining it until I was driving back to Vegas later that night. I think moralilty consists of moral rules of social interaction that humans have discovered through experience and reason. When Hitler committed genocide, we judged him for it because we discovered long ago that if everyone commits genocide we'd all be dead and therefore it's not the best way for humans to interact and live with each other.

I didn't explain it that well to them, but the thing that bothers me the most is that I didn't get into why using god as a basis for morality is a no-win situation. It's called Euthyphro's Dilemma and is usually summed up like this: "Is what is moral commanded by god because it is moral, or is it moral because it is commanded by god?" If it is because it is moral, then moral standards exist outside of god. If it is because it's commanded by god, then morality is arbitrary (god could command dishonesty, for instance). The standard response (the one I used when I was a Christian) is that morality comes from god's nature. God's nature is inherently good and that's what objective morality is grounded in. Of course, now I realize that this doesn't solve the problem at all since god didn't choose his nature. God could have had a dishonest nature in which case dishonesty would be called "good". I really blew it by not talking about this, especially since many religious apologists think morality makes sense only if god exists.

There has been much talk in atheist circles lately over how to engage believers. Personally, as I've gotten older, I've become less concerned with talking to people about it. I'm interested in the subject and I believe theism vs. atheism is an important question, but it really takes a backseat to the important things in life. I care way more about cultivating relationships than arguing about religion. When I first became an atheist, I was actively looking to debate. Nowadays, I'd rather spend time polishing up a fart joke or checking on my fantasy basketball team. Granted, I just did a presentation about atheism at a high school, but it was a unique opportunity and they wanted someone to do it.

There are things I disagree with fellow atheists about. Some think that the world would be better off without religion. I doubt that. Sure, I think we'd be closer to believing what's real about the universe, but I certainly don't think it would end wars or people doing bad things. Regardless of our beliefs, we are humans and we can do horrible things to each other. Whatever wars could be fought in the name of religion would just get a different justification. And for every bad deed you can blame on religion, there is a good deed it can take credit for as well.

Some atheists think that religious people are stupid and delusional. Well, some of the smartest people I know are religious. As Michael Shermer says, smart people are skilled at defending beliefs they arrived at for non-smart reasons. Odds are, I probably have a few beliefs that could fit that definition as well. I hope not, but seriously, what are the chances that everything I currently believe is actually true? Oops, I just realized that I indirectly called myself smart! The fact is, if you start with a supernatural worldview, then practically anything logically follows. If you believe in a supernatural entity, then there is nothing illogical about believing in a worldwide flood (even in the face of disconfirming evidence since god can do anything), a deity-man resurrecting from the dead, a triune god, 72 virgins awaiting martyrs in paradise, reincarnation, and every other belief that people like me consider false. In deductive terms, the arguments are valid. I just don't consider them sound. I spent most of my life as a believer and I don't think I was stupid during that time.

I also don't think the U.S. is in danger of becoming a theocracy (it's a pretty strong word, people). Yes, President Bush has slowed the advance of stem cell research (in this country), but he's also the first President to ever give federal funding to any type of stem cell research. Yes, Bush has appointed men to the Supreme Court who are right of center (as if he's not allowed!) and Roe v. Wade could be overturned with just one more appointment, but the pro-choice lobby has had over 30 years to ensure that state constitutions have the same trimester breakdown as Roe. Besides, although I completely agree with the trimester rules Blackmun made up, it really was a case of judicial activism and it should be overturned on principle alone (I have yet to find a good constitutional defense of it--someone please send it to me). Yes, there are people who want creationism taught as science in public schools and we have to continue to fight them, but I think we have the majority on our side on that one.

I believe we can have a nice, polite discourse about theology. And, believe it or not, that doesn't mean we need to respect people's beliefs. After all, who repects the belief of racism? Or the belief that the earth is flat? I do think we should respect people as human beings. I don't have to agree with someone to be civil with them. I can completely disagree with someone's belief--and even make fun of it!--without being viscious about it.

Yes, I've done my fair share of religion bashing over the years. Here is a Raelian MySpace group I created a few years ago. It was originally called "Raelian Women: Hot but Dumb." I just changed the name. As a comic, I don't think much is sacred in terms of not being made fun of. I'm not dumping my religious jokes (some things are only for specific audiences anyway, plus you do get more leeway as a joke teller on a stage), but I do think I can achieve a balance that avoids blatant name calling. That's the goal, anyway.

So, in summary, if you find a Batman kite in your yard, you have a responsibility to rid the streets of criminals. Do it in the name of your parents.

A Day of Celebration!

2006-10-31T00:53:00.000-08:00

Happy OFFICIAL Nevada Day!

Can you believe it's been 142 years since we were admitted into the Union? I swear, it feels like it's only been 130.

I hope none of you get too caught up in the evil commercialism and forget the TRUE meaning of Nevada Day. And that, of course, is the fact that it takes a long time to drive from Vegas to Reno. I mean, c'mon, what is it? Like 11 hours? That's ridiculous. What will Gibbons or Titus do about that, huh?

That's what I'll be thinking about as I decorate my Nevada Day sagebrush, watch "King of Cars" on A&E, and sing Nevada Day classics such as: "Oh Little Town of Pahrump", "I Heard The Bells of Slot Machines", and "I saw Mommy Kissing Another Stripper".

And for you losers who use Nevada Day as an excuse to dress up in wacky costumes and go door to door asking for candy, I only ask that you at least take a moment of silence to think about all the brave quarters and dollar bills who sacrificed themselves so that you can live in a place with no state income tax.

May the Silver State be with you. Always.

Random thoughts from Reno (apologies to Thomas Sowell)...

2006-10-11T21:43:00.000-07:00

Has anyone ever used the internet service at a hotel? I'm not talking about using their wireless connection for your laptop. I'm talking about those of us Neandertals who don't own a laptop and have to use the cordless keyboard provided which surfs the web via the hotel TV set. This thing sucks! It doesn't have a normal mousepad like a laptop. It just has a button. A very hard to control button. And look at this--I can't even hit "Enter" to make a new paragraph! Arrrrgh! Perhaps there is some way, but I can't take the chance to experiment since I've already accidentally closed a dozen websites and launched a few nuclear warheads (sorry Argentina). Other than that (this *would* be a swell time for a new paragraph), my trip to Reno has gone swimmingly. I have free vouchers to use the buffet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but since I slept in until 2pm I didn't even make it in time for lunch. Who wants to set the alarm to eat? My stomach is going to have to growl loudly in the morning if it wants to be fed. And the dinner buffet closes at 9pm. 9pm! Is that what time they close in Vegas? I don't even know, but it's cramping my style. Who eats dinner before midnight? Only mogwai, I think. // Pretend I started a new paragraph. This is a horrible looking blog. I shouldn't even press "post". By the way, I've decided to go with the British and from now on, I will put my end quotation marks before the punctuation because it makes more sense. No more of "this." From now on, it's "this". Hurray for the English for choosing logic over tradition. James J. Kilpatrick and all the other "language mavens" can kiss my ass. // Speaking of language mavens, I recently received an email from Steven Pinker. Yes, THE Steven Pinker! I wrote to him to say that something in one of his books ("The Language Instinct") inspired me to write a comedy bit. I almost felt like I stole it, so I asked for his permission to use it. He said of course I could use it and he added that he was "honored". I don't even do the bit that often, but I guess now I'll *have* to do it if I ever perform for the Harvard psychology department. // I'm done now. This hotel internet costs $45,000 an hour and my hour is almost up.

I didn't know they got that big

2006-07-09T00:59:00.000-07:00

I came home on Friday night after work and as I opened up my screen door, I saw a shape by the corner bottom of my front door that didn't look right. It looked kind of "bugish." However, I knew it was too big to be a bug. I was hoping it was a just a leaf until I was able to grab a flashlight and see this:

I'm not going to say I screamed like a school girl. Let's just say my neighbors might wonder when I adopted a 13 year old girl. A 13 year old girl with a screaming problem.

When it comes to bugs, I'm not a stomper. I'm a shooter. I love killing from a distance. Yeah, that's right Bill Maher, go ahead and call me cowardly. I went back inside (utilizing my saviorous side door) and came out armed with "Country Fresh" scented Raid. Considering the size of the beast, this was no job for "Unscented" Raid.

Half a can later, the critter finally flopped on its back for good. With a stick, I was able to manuever it into a plastic bag so I could take cool pictures of it next to a pen:

How's this for judging the size of it:

Check out my cool penguin calendar:

I think we make a cute couple:

I want to name it Oscar, but it might be a female in which case, I'm leaning toward Elizabeth. I haven't decided for sure yet. I'm going to go to the library tommorrow and check out a book on baby names.

Oh--here's a nice postscript. The very next night, I came home and jokingly said to myself, "Better look closely to make sure it doesn't happen again." Ha ha ha, right?

WRONG!

It DID happen again. I opened up my screen door and--boom--there was a disgustingly large possible-cockroach #2 was sitting in front of my door. I couldn't believe it. Once again, I went inside and armed myself for war. It didn't take very long as I was now a battle-worn veteran. Once back outside, I shined my flashlight on the latest enemy:

A leaf.

Sheesh.

Me and Oscar/Elizabeth/To Be Determined are still laughing about that.

I do think I shall be wary of every leaf in the world from here on out, though.

***Click here to view original post and comments***

I don't think you're ready-o for this jayo

2006-06-30T01:03:00.000-07:00

I have a friend named Melly. I don't know why she calls herself Melly. I'm guessing it is short for Melissa or Melinda or maybe Melancholy, any one of which would make a solid first name. The word "melly" reminds me of my first best friend, Steven.

We were the tightest of pals from kindergarten until 7th grade. We used to kick tennis balls together (what else are you gonna do with them?), fortify our Joshua tree forts, and have philosophical conversations ranging from the existence of free will to what kind of boogers are the most delectable.

Steven was one of those kids who had a bit of a mumbling problem. The kind of problem that most of us reacted to in the same way when we talked to a mumbler in school--just laugh at what they say and let them wonder what's so funny about "Can I borrow a pencil?"

He also had problems with certain words. One day as his mom prepared his lunch for school, she asked him what he wanted to eat. He replied, "Peanut butter and melly." She asked again to make sure, and yes, indeed, the hard "m" confirmed that peanut butter and melly was the combination he was craving that day.

Obviously, he meant jelly. I find it odd that his mom didn't put two and two together because she ended up making him a peanut butter and *mayonnaise* sandwich. Thank goodness he never asked for extra "jayo" on his tuna fish sandwich.

Steven was quite shocked when lunch time came around that day. I'm sure he went hungry because there's no way I would have offered him any of my baloney sandwich. Speaking of bologna, when's the last time you had one of those sandwiches? Seems like we're not supposed to eat them past puberty, especially if they are stored in a Star Wars lunch box.

When Steven brought the now mouth-watering sandwich home that night, somehow his younger brother and father ended up trying it...and they liked it! Thus, peanut butter and melly became a staple in their house although Steven never warmed up to it. True story.

Thanks to google I found out that sometimes Santa and his sons serve peanut butter and melly to children.

All this reminiscing has me yearning for simpler times. You know what? Screw social norms. I'm going to the park this weekend to kick some tennis balls, make a fort, and eat a baloney sandwich. And for dessert: a nice bloody booger. I think even Aristotle would agree that those are the tastiest by far.

Jesus Loves Supercross!

2006-05-08T01:25:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night I went to the final round of the 2006 Supercross series which was held here in Las Vegas at Sam Boyd stadium.

I was surprised at the number of riders who mentioned Jesus while being interviewed after winning their heat race. Apparently, Jesus cares more about Supercross than even football which might come as a shock to many. The thing that really stood out was the context. Many riders talked about a previous crash or injury that might have kept them from standing on the podium that night, but "thankfully Jesus was on my side" or "the Lord works in mysterious ways."

So, if you have evil deeds to do, I suggest doing them during a motocross race because the big man upstairs is probably too busy keeping riders in one piece to spoil your good time.

Additionally, I guess no one should ever survive a crash. No matter how minor it is, if you crash--you should be dead. It's impossible to survive crashes without divine intervention. What if it's just a fender bender, you ask? Well then, I'd say you didn't notice the supernatural cushioning which kept your head from ripping right off your body, Captain Oblivious!

I wish Jesus could have made the race more entertaining. The top three finishers were in place after only the 2nd lap. Unfortunately, there are 20 laps in a race. How do NASCAR fans watch 500 laps? I did enjoy watching giant bats feast on the insects near the stadium lights.

I've finally decided that Supercross is pretty boring to watch. It took many years to come to that conclusion probably because the first Supercross I ever saw was in 1987 at the L.A. Coliseum when Rick Johnson went from 17th to 1st. To this day, that's the most exciting sporting event I have ever witnessed. And to top it off, BMX legend Stu Thompson sat right behind my dad and in front of him sat the kid from Mr. Belvedere. When have *you* ever seen such greatness in closer proximity?

I've gone to supercross events ever since hoping for another show like that. However, exciting races are few and far between. For the most part, the best rider gets the holeshot and then it's time to look for bats.

By the way, it's impossible to survive a bat attack without the guiding hand of Providence.

Pretty much sums it up...

2006-05-04T01:30:00.000-07:00

Sure, there are exceptions, but for the most part this comic nails it right on the head:

4/20

2006-04-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, I heard this DJ on 107.5 FM--that's "Xtreme Radio" for those of you who don't enjoy listening to the same twelve corporate rock songs every hour--talking about how it was April 18th which meant there were only two days to go before it was 4/20.

He kept going on and on saying, "I cannot wait! Oh man! Two more days until the greatest day of the year! It's going to be awesome!"

Now, seriously, what's this guy going to do to celebrate 4/20? Oh, wait, I know...he's going to do the SAME THING he does the other 364 days of the year. Look, if you open up presents every single day, Christmas ain't that big of a deal, know what I'm saying?

Anyway. Happy 4/20. Or, as the pot smokers call it....just another Thursday.

Does soap have an afterlife?

2006-04-10T01:33:00.000-07:00

Today my liquid Dial soap dispenser stopped dispensing due to emptiness. I reached under my kitchen sink and grabbed an unopened replacement bottle of generic "compare to Dial" liquid soap so as to refill my dispenser.

Then something on the container caught my eye.

An expiration date.

An expiration date of 11/04.

That's right, November of 2004.

I never knew that soap could spoil. If it wasn't for the expiration date, how could I tell? It didn't smell. Well, actually it did smell--it smelled like soap. What does bad soap smell like?

It didn't look like it was expired. It wasn't brown. It was the same orange-like color it was back in 2004. Shouldn't bad soap turn green or black?

Alas, I had to face the fact that my soap was past its prime. It was over the hill. Presumably, it had become too decrepit to fight the evil forces of dirt. I'm sure it could have kicked dirt's ass back in 2004 and maybe even gotten in a few good licks in 2005, but what chance would my soap have now in 2006? Dirt would probably dominate it the same way it currently dominates Yasser Arafat who also expired in 11/04.

By the way, I wasn't surprised to find something in my possession that had an expired date. I've got plenty of things in my medicine cabinet dating from decades of yore. It's rare, but sometimes I'll clean things out. Two months ago I threw away some hair gel that I bought when I got my first flat top back in 1987. So rash, I know. I miss it already.

Anyway, back to the soap.

As I poured the dead soap into my dispenser, I wondered what sicknesses awaited me in my foolishness. What viral epidemic would I spread into the world by washing my hands with zombie soap? What hole in the space/time continuum was I tearing open with my utter disregard for expiration dates?

Who knows?

One thing is for sure, I am going to shake lots of hands tomorrow.

Super Bowl Bandwagoners

2006-02-06T01:40:00.000-08:00

I haven't cared about the Super Bowl since, oh, I don't know...1967? And that was before I even existed. OK, that's not entirely true. I did exist for a brief moment in July of 1876. And I also went through a run of being a football fan during my high school years. I even went to an NFL game...in Los Angeles no less! How's that for old timey?

Yesterday, I did have the game on in the background but I only gave it my full attention when the commercials came on. If I had a TiVo, I would have set it to record the commercials and skip the game. Can it do that? Has modern TiVo science advanced enough?

I would also like to say that the more I hear John Madden, the more I think that Frank Caliendo is actually John Madden.

Anyway, on to today's topic: Super Bowl Bandwagoners.

If you have been a Steelers fan for less than two weeks, then you and me are about to have a serious disagreement.

Leave the celebration to the actual fans, you losers. I don't want to hear about how the Steelers kicked ass yesterday unless you cared about how the Steelers did during weeks one, two, three point one four, twelve, twenty-six and however many weeks they play these days.

It's ok for non-fans to pick a team to cheer for during the game. It is NOT ok for a non-fan to act like "their" team's victory is something to crow about. You had your Super Day and now it's time for you to take off that Steelers jersey and back away slowly. Yes, I understand that Tim from accounting now owes you a doughnut because he unwisely picked the Seahawks to be his new favorite end of January/beginning of February team, but you need to move on. You've got lots of sports to ignore before suddenly caring about college basketball sometime in March.

As for you Seahawks fans...you can take heart knowing that people won't even remember your team made it this far. You're getting off easy, for there are far worse fates than that. Just ask a Bills fan.

Finally, if anyone was able to TiVo the "In Living Color" concurrent halftime show this year, then let me know because that would be a TiVo worth owning.

Why bother?

2006-01-09T01:41:00.000-08:00

Don't you hate it when people post quick blogs like this?

Comedy and Christmas

2005-12-23T01:41:00.000-08:00

First the news: I've been invited to perform at the Las Vegas Comedy Festival this January. I'll be in the "Get Them While They're Hot" showcase which features the up and coming talent that the industry hasn't seen yet.

I also get a free pass to the entire festival which is cool since there was no way in hell I was going to pay to attend. I don't know how much of the comedy festival I will see considering that it happens the same time as The Amaz!ng Meeting which I've already paid for and I don't want to miss any of it. For those of you who don't know, The Amaz!ng Meeting is a skeptic's convention. Go ahead and make your silly little skeptic jokes. I doubt they'll be funny.

I'll be visiting my parents this Christmas. They've invited me to their mega-church's 11pm "Candle Light Service" on Christmas Eve which is basically the Protestant fundamentalist version of the Catholic midnight mass except there's lots of singing. And there's a rock band. I don't think Catholics have rock bands on stage, do they? By the way, the most rocking band I ever saw in a church was at a 7th Day Adventist service. Oh my, they had distorted guitars, special effects, and one guy did like a 10 minute Yngwie Malmsteen guitar solo. Praise the Jesus!

I'm not sure if I'll go considering my old friend Brian will be there and we have not talked since before this past April when I admitted to my family and friends that I am an atheist. I hear he's been researching nonstop in preparation to challenge me to a debate. I'm way past the years when I was itching to have a full on religious debate with him (he just didn't know it at the time). These days, I only wanna write fart jokes and check the standings of my fantasy basketball team. Such is the life.

Final Thought: Since I like putting reason into the season, why do Christians accuse secularists of trying to take Christ out of Christmas? They are the ones who have taken Christ out because they pronounce it "Chris-mas" rather than "Christ-mas." Do they worship Jesus Chris? Are they saved through the blood of Chris Jesus? I'm pretty sure there is a "t" in the word Christmas. So I say to them--stop taking the "Christ" out of "Christ-mas" you heathens!

Brilliant Idea

2005-11-14T01:44:00.000-08:00

Some of the greatest ideas in history have not been 100% original, but rather a new take on an old idea. There are numerous examples I could name, but I'd rather you just take my word for it.

This brings me to my greatest idea, or at least, my greatest idea so far today. I'm going to start a website called MyEbayGoogleSpace.com. Granted, I don't know what exactly will happen on that website, but I do know it will make me lots and lots of money.

I'll give you all a heads up before the IPO.

Rap Videos

2005-11-10T01:45:00.000-08:00

My friend Scott recently wrote a blog about rap videos. There are quite a few rap songs I like and it has been many, many moons since I erroneously thought that it was all c(rap) done by people with no talent. I definitely don't think rappers are retards, but, yeah, I suppose I'll agree with him that in their videos they could switch things up a bit. I've reprinted the blog Scott wrote and below it is the comment I left for him.

--From Scott's blog:

I just watched a series of rap videos. Here's my message to the people involved in rap music, and specifically the people making rap videos.

Dear retards,

Yes, you read that correctly. You may want to look into the possibility that you are, actually, retarded.

Here are three words for you. They are not big words, so they may have some meaning to you: Do. Something. Different.

Please, just try it. Write about something different. Make a video that's different. Have an original idea. Just one.

I am glad you have found some success in what you do. Really. But please take a look at the work you're putting out there. You're standing there, rapping directly into the camera, and you have your friends around, which is nice, and you also have some women with big butts willing to shake those butts in your video.

This is all very nice, but you know, how about trying something original? Just once.

Because while I'm sure you seem cool to some people (probably other retards), but to most of us, you just seem retarded. And we're bored with you doing the same thing over and over.

So, stop doing that, you monosyllabic retards.

Well, no, I guess maybe I shouldn't say that. Calling rappers retarded is actually insulting to retards. So, I'm sorry for saying that.

But, please. Do. Something. Different.

--My response:

Dear Mr. Scott Roeben,

Awww...no you didNT!

[music starts]

Yo, yo--this how we roll

Mic check- we gonna kick it- one more time
I got mah girls shaking booties right back 'n behind

[close up of shakin' booty]

U bedda not front--whatcha gonna do?
When da [blam! blam!] trigger make a fool 'o you ?

[Cut to Escalades sportin' 22s]

Gonna diss mah rap art on da MTV?
Muda fucka bedda run cuz U going ta bleed !

Uh-huh. Yeah. Yo, tell'm D-Funk1!

::::Obligatory guest rap by unknown rapper::::

"Now there ain't no time to cooperate/cuz U monopulate/as you be testin' fate/Ima get irate/when you interrogate/from the Bering Strait/You don't know 'bout love/U just bringin' da hate. Check it. D-Funk1 iz out."

[more of that fine shakin' booty]

So back off ya mouth-U punk bitch mutha
Ya gotcha self served by some rap lovin' bruthas !

Peace out.

[music fades on one last booty shot]

Sincerely,

The People Who Make Rap Videos

Cell Phones Part 2

2005-11-09T01:49:00.000-08:00

I don't want to hear anymore about how I need to get a cell phone.

Yesterday, I called three different people on their cell phones and left voice messages for them. There was information I needed from them ASAP. I did not receive a response from any of them. No return calls. None. Nothing. Nada. Cero. No Dice. No Andrew. No Clay. Zippo. Harpo. Oprah.

So how is this different from me only having a land line with an answering machine? People have said to me, "Brandon, what if I need to get ahold of you immediately?" Well, looks like a cell phone doesn't necessarily solve that problem, now does it?

So you can take your fancy cell phones with your Muzak ringtones and your diamond encrusted.....oh hey, that reminds me. There is a woman at my work who sent off her cell phone to the East Coast so that she could have it bedazzled with lots of shiny fake jewels. I think she paid $150. She said she got a great deal.

Folks, paying more than $5 to decorate your phone is more ridiculous than the fact that I still own and use an address book with names and phone numbers written in it. Maybe I should blog about all the old timey things I still do and have.

The best anti-George W. Bush article ever

2005-10-14T01:51:00.000-07:00

But before I get to the article, take this fun quiz!

Is George W. Bush the personification of evil?
Does he deserve to die one thousand one hundred and twenty-two deaths?
Does the mere thought of him make you want to vomit your inner organs into a toilet?
Did you think the world was going to end if he was re-elected in 2004?
Do you think he wakes up every morning with the thought, "How can I ruin America today?"

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, then congratulations! You are a demonizer. You are unable to engage in rational discourse concerning political issues and policies without resorting to character assassination and ad hominem attacks! Way to not rise above your elementary school years! Go get yourself a cookie!

At this point, I should mention that I am not a Republican, I am not a conservative, and I am certainly no fan of George W. Bush. In 2000, I voted for Ralph Nader hoping he'd get enough votes to qualify the Green Party for federal matching funds. In 2004, I plugged my nose and voted for John Kerry.

I disagree with Bush on many issues: the war in Iraq and foreign policy in general, abortion, his love for baseball, homosexual rights, and stem cell research (although I'm pleased he's the first President to provide federal funding for it), among others. But I don't hate the guy.

What I do I hate is demonizing on both sides of the political spectrum. When I was a conservative, I couldn't stand listening to my parents bash Clinton with their palpable hate. Now that I'm on the other side, I can safely say that the hateful bashing isn't anymore attractive over here.

Bush deserves to be criticized. But it can be done in a level-headed way.

Below is a critical article that comes from the Right (although Doug Bandow is a Libertarian) that hits Bush as hard as I've ever seen and the invectives used are all based on well known facts. Bandow is not demonizing when he writes,

"George W. Bush is not a bad person. But he's a bad decision-maker: intellectually uncurious and seriously unread."

That's a much more substantive insult than any of the "Bush sucks donkey cock" drivel you'll hear from most Bush haters.

http://www.humanevents.com/article.php?id=9713

Columbus Day

2005-10-11T01:55:00.000-07:00

I did it again.

I walked out to the front of my property, opened up my mailbox, and wondered why it was empty. I mean, it was Monday--that's a big mail day--where the hell was it? It wasn't until much later I realized it was a holiday.

I've done this many times before. You name the holiday and I've opened my mailbox on that day. If it's a big holiday, I'll usually remember the instant I open my empty mailbox. It's like there's a giant note inside that reads, "It's CHRISTMAS! You pathetic loser."

Let me tell you, once you've made that mistake it's one hell of a long walk back to your house. Remember that scene in "Poltergeist" when the hallway kept growing longer and longer? That's my walk of shame. I feel like the whole neighborhood is looking out their windows laughing it up at my foolishness.

"There he goes again! Just like clockwork! Or...calendarwork, to be more precise." I often imagine my neighbors being slaves to precision.

Sometimes, I try to save face by acting like I went out to my mailbox for some other reason, like a maintenance check. I'll kick the post, wiggle the flag up and down, and say out loud, "OK, we are looking good. We are all systems go for mail delivery tommorrow."

I think I have a problem. Is there a support group for people like me? Does anyone else share my checking-the-mail-on-the-wrong-day affliction? Does anyone else hate Tuesday's "coupons you'd never use and other worthless ads" junk mail? And why does the missing children's flyer always insist on falling out from that pile?

What's the next holiday? Veterans Day? I'm going to have to mark notes down on my calendar.

Nov. 11th: "Don't check mail today."
Nov. 12th: "Blog about how you forgot to not check the mail."
Nov. 13th: "Release missing children."

Baseball Schmaseball

2005-10-06T01:56:00.000-07:00

So, I hear that the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim-Orange County-Southern California-United States of America-North America-Northern Hemisphere-Planet Earth-Inner Planets-Sol Solar System-Milky Way Galaxy-Universe.com or whatever they are calling themselves these days won Game 2 tonight of their big series against blah blah blah who cares?

Am I weird for not liking baseball? To be honest, I'm not too fond of apple pie, either. And don't even ask about my mom. I'm just kidding mom, in case you ever join MySpace with a sparsely filled out profile, one lewd pic, and 6,472 friends who have each commented: "Thanx for the add, milf. Killer bod!"

Anyway, I used to like baseball when I was a kid. You know, back when I used to eat paste and was trying to figure out whether I should grow up to be an astronaut or a Transformer. It wasn't long after I dismissed Santa Clause when I realized that baseball was really boring to watch.

Notice I said, "to watch." There's nothing wrong with playing it. But watching it? I've been more entertained watching a janitor vacuum the Senate floor after a quick vote on procedural amendments left CSPAN with 20 minutes to kill before "Booknotes" came on.

This is watching baseball:

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pitch. Ball One. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pitcher Adjusts Cap. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pitch. Ball Two. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Manager Stands In Dugout. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Fake Throw To First. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Catcher Comes Out To Say Hi. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pitch. Strike One. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Batter Hits Cleats With Bat. Wait. Wait. Wait.Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Kid In Stands Eats Popcorn. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. John 3:16 Sign. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait Is A Song By White Lion. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pitch. Strike Two. Wait. Wait. Wait. Waiting For Godot Is As Boring As Baseball. Wait. Wait. Wait. Second Baseman Scratches Balls. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Brandon Empties Revolver Into His Skull. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

So, yeah, I'm not a fan. Earlier this year I was talking to a co-worker who was mad because his baseball team had just lost and it dropped them two games back out of the playoff race. I guess I was in a good mood because I actually continued this conversation about baseball.

"That's too bad. How many games are left?"

"Oh, I don't know, 80 or 81."

That's another problem with baseball. They play millions of games every week, many of which have historically pre-empted important TV shows that I wanted to watch. Like Transformers, for instance. How am I suppose to decide which Autobot I'm going to grow up to be if the Dodgers insist on playing every damn afternoon?

I enjoy watching sports that are exciting. Like NBA basketball or college basketball or high school basketball or MTV Rock N Jock basketball (Method Man for the 50 pointer!). I even prefer WNBA basketball to baseball! But that's mostly due to Lauren Jackson.

To Cell Or Not To Cell

2005-10-04T01:58:00.000-07:00

As of tonight, for the first time in my life, I own a cell phone. Granted, it is not activated, but it is mine. My good friend John gave it to me since he just got a new one with all the bells and whistles (which are handy to have in case you ever get raped or you're hiking in bear country).

So, now I am faced with a dilemma. Should I join the robotic, sheep-like masses and give in to cell phoneity? Or should I remain steadfast in my never-formerly-stated mission of living life with only a "land line" (as the cellularphiles like to call it). I have never even owned a pager. Am I allowed to skip that step?

I have never considered a cell phone a necessity. After all, I'm not that important. If someone needs to get ahold of me, they can do what normal people have done since the dawn of time: write me a letter. Or contact me via messenger pigeon. What could be easier? (It is, however, quite awkward to pick up women by asking them if they want to exchange pigeons).

I also like being different, although it's weird to realize that in this day and age *not* having a cell phone makes you different. I enjoy the looks of shock followed by pity whenever I say, "Nope--that's my home phone number. I don't have a cell. What? Yes, of course I have indoor plumbing."

I will admit that as the years have piled on, I have encountered more and more situations where a cell phone would have been the handiest of dandies. Like my road trip in '03 when I broke down on a desolate, rarely traveled road...right next to a cell phone tower. Or a few months ago when I was stuck in traffic while a radio station was giving away free tickets to see Tony Danza at the Orleans to the first caller who could name every TV show Alyssa Milano has ever been on. Damn my luck.

If I do get a cellular plan, I refuse to invent unnecessary phone calls just because I have the capability. I will never say any of these sentences on a cell phone: "Guess where I'm calling from?" or "I'm just letting you know I'm heading into the store" or "And then the guy next to me flipped over a pair of Aces." The last one is because I don't play poker, though. Speaking of, I hear that all the time at work. Every poker player is always on the cell recounting how they just lost. Who's the poor sap who has to listen to that crap? Who's sitting by their phone anticipating the run-down of how their friend got screwed by the "River?"

Honestly, the only drawback to cell phone activation would be the cost. It costs more than a home phone. And that's pretty much what it comes down to for me. If I can get over that, then I'll join the rest of you. Until then, I just have a cool Star Trek-looking flashlight.

I opened for Doug Stanhope!

2005-09-27T02:03:00.000-07:00

I just had an interesting night. I got off work and, like usual, had some time to kill before I needed to be at the Bourbon Street Hotel to set up for my standup show. Usually, I spend that time reading, or more specifically, sleeping with a book (don't worry--it's always consensual). But tonight, I remembered that Doug Stanhope (http://www.dougstanhope.com) was performing over at Tommy Rockers. Some of my friends were going to be there, so I figured I'd stop by for awhile even though I'd have to leave before Doug went up.

I walked in the place, found my friends, and talked blah blah blah. Meanwhile, I see Doug just standing around by the bar talking to people here and there. I think to myself that I should take advantage and at least say hi, but I knew I needed more than that to say. So I decided to ask him for some comedian advice.

I went over, introduced myself, and told him I've been doing standup around town for almost two years and almost immediately he asks, "Do you want to do some time tonight?" Apparently, time is for the taking at Tommy Rockers, even when Stanhope's in town. I said sure and then I asked his opinion on whether I needed to move out of Vegas to make the next step (Doug started in Vegas doing open mics). He told me to never take advice from anyone. Hmmm...I wondered...should I take *that* advice? He asked me if I wanted something to drink. I said no thanks and he gave me a quizzical look. For some weird reason, I felt like I owed him an explanation: "Well, I used to be a Christian and now I'm an atheist, but I still don't smoke or drink. That's my little quirk." Even though he's a blatant atheist, I'm sure he thinks I'm a complete idiot. My social ineptness made for a few more minutes of uncomfortable conversation---from his vantage point, I'm sure---and then it was time to go onstage.

And it went great. I did all my classics like "Wedding," "Clean Talk," "Satan," "Roller Coasters," and so on. I guess I did 7 minutes or so. After I got off stage Doug came up and said, "Man, that was great! You need to get the hell out of Vegas!" Aaaand...scene! As they say in the improv world.

Of course I felt fantastic and then I went to the Bourbon Street and it didn't matter that there were only 10 people in the audience. In fact, near the end of the show, 3 members of the Second City mainstage show here in Vegas came in just in time to see me do my Bill Walton impression (oh yeah, such a crowd pleaser). If I had known I would be performing in front of so many talented people tonight I would have dressed up, dammit!

As for Stanhope's advice about moving out of Vegas---I've been thinking about it more and more lately. The standup scene here isn't that great at all and I can definitely see how moving elsewhere would be beneficial. LA would be my first choice since I'm from SoCal (although Stanhope said it isn't any better there). But I do wonder what job I'd get and how I could afford to live alone. I hate living with people. Hate it. Passionately. In fact, I'm worried if I'll be able to stand to live with the girl of my dreams. If I ever meet the bitch, that is. Har har.

It comes down to my comfort zone, really. I am reeeaaaallyyy comfortable and I'm not much for change. But, I can do it when it needs to be done. So, I guess we'll see.

Selfishness and kids

2005-07-17T02:07:00.000-07:00

Is there any non-selfish reason to decide to have a kid?

That's my opening question, but this blog is about Bree Walker. For those of you who do not know who she is, Bree is a broadcast journalist who used to be married to boxing announcer Jim Lampley. As an aside, she used to be very beautiful until she ruined herself through plastic surgery:

http://www.gawker.com/news/bree_walker.jpg

Anyway, she has a rare disease called ectrodactyly which has fused together her fingers and her toes. Years ago, she decided to have children despite the fact that there would be a 50% chance that the condition would be passed on. Well, it was. Both her children have it and they have undergone more than a dozen surgeries to unfuse their digits.

In response to criticism of her choice, she says she'd like to see anyone look her children in the face and tell them they don't deserve to live. Well, of course they deserve to live now that they exist. The question is whether or not she should have had kids in the first place. That is an important difference. Not existing is not a tragedy. Since I'm alive, I'm glad that I exist and I hope to exist for a long time. However, if I never existed, it wouldn't matter to me because I would not exist to care! I spent most of the history of the universe not-existing and it didn't bother me one bit.

The point is that she created these children despite 50% odds. I'm sure she hoped they wouldn't have the disease because they've had surgeries to correct it--obviously she considers it a "problem" that needs to be "fixed."

Why did she have kids despite the 50% chance? Because of selfishness. She wanted kids and nothing was going to stop her. She cared more about her own desire to be a parent than the problems her kids would have. She could have adopted, but no, she wanted children of HER OWN making. Tell me that's not selfish.

This is old news, by the way. Her kids are 16 and 13 and she did come under fire at the time. But it also brings me to my opening question. Is there any non-selfish reason to decide to have children? Oh wait--I just thought of one--you could have children specifically because you want to give them up for adoption to parents who can't have kids of their own. I'd say don't bother, but that is a non-selfish reason. Can anyone think of any other altruistic reasons?

Anyone care to defend Bree Walker?

Sports Kids Moms & Dads

2005-06-03T02:12:00.000-07:00

I just watched a show on Bravo called "Sports Kids Moms & Dads." One of the families profiled is a father who says he never fulfilled his dream of playing in the NFL. Concerning his 8 year old son, Trenton, the father declares: "His future and my future are tied to his dream of being an NFL football player." Nope--that's not the creepiest part. How about this quote: "I believe we choose our parents, and I believe Trenton chose me because he wants to play football."

That reminds me of the time I went to a "Guardian Angel Workshop" for 3 hours of laughs (that's another blog in itself). The instructor told us that we do indeed choose our parents and I told him that Andrea Yates' children did not choose wisely.

Another family on the show consists of a Texas mother who spends $15,000 a year on her 8 year old daughter's cheerleading training. When did she know her daughter had cheerleading potential? "When Sarah was 18 months old, she had this incredible point. She had this incredible arch in her foot." Can you believe that? She waited until Sarah was 18 MONTHS OLD before she even bothered to notice that Sarah was quite possibly the LeBron James of Pom Poms. Sarah will never be able to make up that lost time. *Sigh*

Sometimes I wonder if my parents tried to live their dreams through me. I think my mom always wanted to be a professional room cleaner and that's why she pushed me so hard to be the best. Every day before school it was, "Clean up your room." And then after school it was, "Make sure your room's clean." Even on the weekends, "Your room. Clean it. Now." I had to sacrifice a lot. While other kids were out playing I was perfecting my dusting technique. Who knows where I'd be today if I hadn't choked during Nationals my 6th grade year? Damn that Lego! How did I miss it?

My dad, on the other hand, must have had childhood dreams of being a world class mime since he was constantly cultivating in me the skillful ability to "Shut the hell up."

Extreme Ironing

2005-05-09T02:14:00.000-07:00

This is why humans rule the world. I don't see dolphins inventing any cool new sports like this:

Extreme Ironing

I must admit, I love the description on the homepage: "...the latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt."

No one has time to finish an email

2005-03-23T02:16:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed that everyone always ends their emails with "well, I have to go to bed now" or "I have to get to work" or "I should finish this heart transplant" or whatever? Doesn't anyone have time to finish an email?

Apparently, it always the last thing people do before doing something important. "Babe, before we have sex, I need to fire off a half-assed email. Oh, don't worry, it won't be a 'full' email. I'll let him know I gotta get going." If they didn't have anything to do would they continue typing perpetually?

I have much more to say about this but I have to go take a shower right now.

Stuck in Buenos Aires again

2005-02-06T13:33:00.000-08:00

Ho hum. Buenos Aires is boring.....when you don´t speak Spanish...and you are not into night life...and you weren´t expecting to be here in the first place. I missed my connecting flight to Iguazu so I have to spend the night here.

On the plane to Buenos Aires, I sat on the aisle seat and a woman with a months old baby sat in between me and another woman by the window. Her husband was a few rows back. I thought about asking her if she wanted me to switch seats with her husband, but then I decided not to. Well, I certainly should have worked something out because no sooner were we in flight when her 4 or 5 year old son was suddenly standing in the aisle next to me yapping to his mama. It was cute the first twelve times, but then it began to annoy. He was running up and down the aisle and everyone seemed to think this was just dandy. Or, at least, nothing to be concerned about. There was a few times when his mother told him to sit with his papa, but he didn´t listen. She kept looking back to her husband for support as if she were powerless to control the little diablo. I guess a stern rebuke would have unleashed a scene from "The Omen" because I couldn´t see why she didn´t take control. He entertained passengers by throwing his pen up into the air, right in the middle of the aisle. One time, as if Zeus himself smiled down upon me, his pen smacked him right square in the face. That gave me enough satisfaction to resist asking the stewardess, "Could you PLEASE ask the pilot to turn on the fasten seatbelt sign?"

When I checked into my hotel here in Buenos Aires, I was pleased to find that the lady behind the counter spoke English. There was a bellman who took my bag up to my room, and in the elevator I said, "Como estas?" because I had heard that locals like it when you at least try to communicate in their language. However, he just looked at me and gave me a mocking laugh that clearly said, "Don´t even try, gringo." I think a simple "muy bien" or "mas ó menos" would have sufficed. Now I am off to do....uh...I don´t know.

Maybe I can find a cheap DVD copy of "Evita" or "Dude, Where´s my car?" That would certainly make this layover worthwhile.

Greetings from Puerto Natales

2005-02-01T12:12:00.000-08:00

So, here I am in the Southern Hemisphere, typing away at a computer at one of the local internet cafes. Some of these places may not have running water but every small, shacky town has internet access. And this place in Chile only charges a dollar an hour! My trip has been quite amazing so far. The other day I did ice climbing for the first time ever. What better place to do it than in Patagonia, eh? I´m traveling with a group that includes a Californian, a Canadian, a Belgian, and a Scottsman. He wears his kilt quite often. But I´ll be honest with you, the next time I travel I'm wearing a kilt. Man that guy gets some action! Everyone goes up to talk to him and take his picture. He gets his picture taken more than the specific scenery that we are all suppose to be looking at! OK, my time is almost up. I´m telling everyone that I´m a Mormon missionary from Canada. That is just in case they hate Americans and I also heard that LDS missionaries are beloved in other countries. I forgot to bring my Book of Mormon, though. And I´m not dressed the part, nor on a bike, so I don´t know how convincing I am. Adios for now.

"The Loser And The Ring" by J.R.R. Tolkien

2004-12-16T02:22:00.000-08:00

Here's a potential MENSA member:

http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/state/20041212-2012-ca-marinesring.html

He's a marine whose hand was injured in Iraq. He had a choice between saving his finger or destroying his wedding ring. And he chose the ring! So they had to chop off his finger.

He says he did it for his wife. Is that suppose to be love? I'm no Librarian, but shouldn't that be filed under incredibly stupid? What wife would want her husband to do that? Would she have given him a hard time if he chose otherwise?

Wife: "You had a choice, you know."

Husband: "A choice? They were going to cut off my finger!"

Wife: "Yeah, so?"

Husband: "MY FINGER!"

Wife: (sighs) "God, you are soooo unromantic."

The best part of the story? After they cut off his finger, his "precioussss" somehow GOT LOST! That's right. The ring is gone! Just like his finger. How cool is that? If there really is a god, I'll tell you what, he's fucking hilarious! Since both his finger and wedding ring are now officially lost, at least his sanity has some company. Please excuse me while I say: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! And then giggle...like a Japanese schoolgirl with Hello Kitty lip gloss.

I think this shows why no one should ever pay more than $20 for a wedding ring. Unless, of course, it has cool features like wireless internet or the ability to decode secret messages like the colorful graffiti you see on freeway bridges. Am I the only one who can never figure out what the heck those taggers are trying to say?

Road Trip Part ***

2004-10-25T02:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I certainly devote a lot of time to these...

Where did I leave off? That's right--Glacier NP. After that, I drove to Athol, Idaho to go to Silverwood, an amusement park that is supposedly home to two of the world's best wooden roller coasters. They are pretty good. This small park also has the old Corkscrew coaster from Knott's Berry Farm. What a piece of junk. Two flips and it's over--about 15 seconds. As I exited that ride, I passed by some girls getting on and one said excitedly, "This one's my favorite!" Poor country girl. She has no idea what's out there. I thought about showing her my digital watch just to hear her exclaim, "What the...are you from the future?!"

The next day, I was in Riggins, Idaho to do some whitewater rafting on the Salmon river. It was nice for a beginner like me, but it whet my appetite for some *real* rapids. Oh yeah, next time I'm gonna run some of that crazy Class 2 shit! Just joking, we did do some Class 3 rapids. For those of you who don't know the rapids rating system, it starts at Class 1 which is calm, flat water and goes all the way up to Class 456 which is only runnable for a two week window during the summer on the Jupiterian moon of Europa.

The next day, I saw dried up Shoshone Falls (I really need to plan my trips better) and watched B.A.S.E. jumpers fall off the Perrine Bridge in Twin Falls, Idaho. It was like watching a bunch of failed suicide attempts. You know, like a guy trying to hang himself, but the rope keeps breaking. Or a girl with a gun against her temple, but she has a really bad aim. Or someone who sits down to watch John McEnroe's talk show, but then the TV cable goes out.

My next stop was Cathedral Gorge State Park here in Nevada. No jokes here, that's the best state park IN THE WORLD. Finally, I pulled into my driveway after putting over 3,000 miles on my car in a little over a week! It was worth it, though. If I were to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. Well, except for that one day when I ran over that precious little kitty cat in Utah. If I had to do *that* over again, I wouldn't bother slamming it into reverse to run it over a second time.

Road Trip Part **

2004-09-25T02:27:00.000-07:00

This is a continued recap of my road trip at the end of Aug '04....

So, I left Yellowstone and drove to Glacier National Park. Montana is great because the speed limit is, like, 700, I think? I'm not sure, those signs whip by so fast, you know, who can really tell?

Hey, here's a question: how come NPR is the strongest radio station regardless of where you are or how far away you are from the nearest town? You'd think with that kind of coverage they'd be able to pick up more than 12 listeners nationwide.

Glacier National Park is fabulous. It really is. It was by far the highlight of my road trip probably because I didn't expect it to be. One day I joined a ranger-led hike to Grinnell Glacier. Since someone died a few months earlier on that same glacier while hiking alone, I decided I should stick with the group if I wanted to hike on the glacier. And I did. I kept the ranger entertained by asking questions like, "Can we go where that guy died?", "Why do they call this Glacier National Park?" and "Who scored the NBA's 5 millionth point?" She seemed happy to see me depart from the group on the way back.

Parts of the park look just like Kauai. Don't take my word for it--I met a couple in the park who live in Kauai and they agreed. I also drove the famous Going-to-the-Sun road that cuts through the park. Right after I got to the end of it, I heard that there just was a car accident a few miles back. The car went off the side and the driver of the vehicle died. I figured the chances of a ranger-led hike to the site of the crash were slim, so I left.

Next up: roller coasters and whitewater rafting.

Road Trip (with footnotes)

2004-09-17T02:29:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks now, so I guess I'll recap my last road trip. I got in my car*, drove around**, and then I eventually*** came back home.

I guess I could be more specific. Oh--I also put gas in my car. A lot.

Who did I go with? Me, Myself, and I (although Myself slept for practically the entire time).

The End.

____________________________________________________

* After waking up Saturday at 10am, I went to work for 8 hours and then left my house at 11pm, driving through Utah, into Idaho, and then Wyoming. I got to Grand Teton NP around 1pm (after a few stops--I wanted to pick up some magic underwear at the Temple in Salt Lake, but it was closed--darn--maybe next time).

Later that day in Yellowstone, I went to bed at 9pm--who needs sleep? Well, I mean, besides Myself. Yellowstone is very interesting. Old Faithful went off every 45 minutes, but from what I hear its been seen around the park galavanting with some floozy geyser who goes off *all* the time (if you know what I mean). So, I'm sure Mrs. Faithful isn't enjoying the irony of their last name right now.

Since there was a full moon, I waited one night for the Riverside Geyser to erupt and was by Myself until this mysterious "Geyser Hunter" came up and joined me. This guy hangs out at the Lodge for weeks at a time, listening to his radio that's tuned in to the Park Ranger channel, and runs out to see every geyser eruption. He was actually pleasant to talk to, that is until Riverside began spewing and he started in with his whole, "Crikey! Now this here's a mean geyser! I'm going to get a closer look, but this is very dangerous..." and so on--I mean c'mon, Steve Irwin impressions are so 2002.

I also hiked to the top of Mt. Washburn. "Boring," "not worth it," "mind-numbingly dull," "waste of time," "2 hours and 13 minutes of my life lost forever," and "a decent view" are a few of the words I'd use to describe that experience.

During my last night in Yellowstone, I was right behind a lady when she hit a bison with her car. It mangled her front end and shattered her driver side window. I drove by and she asked if I had a cell phone. I began reaching for my cell when she told me she had two kids in the backseat. Bad move, lady. I told her no and drove away. You know what they say, never get involved with chicks who have kids. In truth, I really don't own a cell phone, but I believe the principle still stands. OK, that's enough for now.

I guess in part ** I'll talk about Glacier National Park.

Blogs

2004-08-20T02:32:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I better get to bloggin'. You know what they say, "A blog a day keeps actual social interaction away," or something like that. Isn't a blog basically a diary? When we were growing up, my sister wouldn't let anyone read her diary. In fact, she wouldn't even let herself read it. She'd look the other way as she wrote a new entry. She really should have paid attention because I could read certain passages that she accidentally wrote onto her desk. Anyway, these days girls post their diarys ONLINE where EVERYONE can read them including lonely old men who google search words like "hemorrhoids," "relief," or "Britney Spears" and end up reading the erudite musings of 11 year old girls obsessed with Jonathan Taylor Thomas...or Andy Gibb...or I don't know...whoever's hot these days. I guess it's been awhile since I've read "Tiger Beat." My ClashPoint is this: (ha ha ha! There's a joke only I get!) Times have changed. And there you go. My first blog. I've been...what? Deblogginized? Now there are cherry guts all over my monitor.