Adventures in winter sports and not dating

My friends invited me cross country skiing. Of all the winter sports, I thought this one may be the most in my favor. Ice skating is one crack away from being that scene in "It's a Wonderful Life"; I once snowboarded down an entire hill because I realized too late it was covered in ice and I'd maul my face if I fell; and the worst as of yet was my adventure in downhill skiing.

The first time I went downhill skiing, I got tangled up in the bunny hill pulley and the operators had to turn it off while they waited for me to right myself and ski down on the wrong side of the line. I managed to make it down the hill and find my way back to the car where I had an extraordinarily good nap.

But perhaps cross country skiing would be different, I thought. We'd be on a flat bike path with poles to lean on while cruising at a steady 5 mph.

These dreams were quickly dashed as we set out at Kincaid Park, where we accidentally embarked on the Advanced Skate Ski trail. This meant instead of a peaceful glide through the woods, much of my time was spent falling, trying to get up without accidentally bending my leg into a broken limb position, sliding down uphills while yelling "NOOOOO!", and thinking, "Maybe this time I'll make it down the hill without falling!"

As I was out there, I realized that if I crashed into a moose and sliced off my finger with my wild ski, I was going to be doubly upset. Not only would I have injured myself, but it would have been done while doing something I didn't even like in the first place. If I tripped and fell while eating ice cream, I'd think, "Well at least I hurt myself doing what I loved." 

This was my view for most of the trip.

Mercifully, we made it back to the car in two hours.  Then suddenly, we realized we had burned like 3,000 calories. More like 5,000 if you count all the negative thoughts I turned into vocal energy.

We drove to Spenard Roadhouse, which is not a rundown biker bar as I expected, where we saw this:

Nazi Girl or Nate's Girl? Or $25 poorly spent?

And this:

Yes. 

And at that moment I knew, this was the best life choice I had made all day.

Seth: My dad always told me that hunger is the best seasoning.*
[*This quote is irrelevant to cinnamon sugar donut holes]

I wasn’t initially interested in going out for lunch because I am a broke, (recently-graduated) college student. That doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. A broke college student has no money because he’s spending it on a quality education to secure the job of his dreams. I, on the other hand, have no money because I bought health insurance and six pounds of fancy Gala apples instead of Braeburns because they taste like fruity Styrofoam. But Ryan, bless his heart, opened his wallet to the good cause.

Then the day ended with this exchange:

Waiter: Is anyone together?

Ryan: We are...she just doesn't know it yet.

Waiter: Haha! Are you feeling sleepy?

Us: Ha..ha?

[Waiter leaves]

Ryan: What does that mean?

Me: Wait, was that a date rape joke?

Did you know the papal race is actually a sprint race? Weird.

Mary: Welcome back to the first ever live telecast of the Papal Race.

John: Held every four years, just like the Olympics.

Mary: Not once has that happened. 

Mary: After three false starts, the crowd is anxious that the race for the papacy will officially end today. But with 115 elderly contenders who are known to throw a few elbows, we could very well be here a while longer. Today's race will be underway any moment now, and it will consist of, once again, a 200-meter sprint within the Sistine Chapel. 

John: We expected a long conclave but the turnover between the false starts has been progressing much more rapidly than expected. This is a great relief to the crowd in the Vatican, who have been distracted by a seagull most of the morning. Some were saying it was a sign from God, others…making their own assumptions.

Mary: Before the race begins again, let’s take a look at the conclave’s frontrunners.

Mary: In lane one, we have Brazilian Archbishop Odilo Scherer, who would be the first non-European pope in nearly 1300 years. 

Mary: In lane two is Italy’s Angelo Scola, who is hoping to return the papacy to Italian hands after 35 years under German rule. Scola was a hot favorite for pope in the last papal race eight years ago but was tripped up by eventual winner Benedict.  

John: Literally.

Mary: In lane three is Canada’s Marc Ouelett. Wait a minute, where is he? I see him now on the sidelines. It looks like he’s limping and trying to get out of the race. I’m not so sure that’s a legitimate injury, seeing as how Ouelett once said that being pope "would be a nightmare.²" Let's see if his dream comes true today.

Mary: Lane four features Peter Kodwo Appiah Turkson, who could become the first African pope in modern times³. 

John: We are being asked not to make a correlation between the 200-meter dash in the Olympics games, where seven of the past nine victors were black.
Mary: Whoa! Turkson just shed his cardinal robes to reveal a sleek tracksuit!
John: We still can't comment on that? Really? 

Mary: Americans are hoping for Sean Patrick  “Cappuccino²”O'Malley of Boston or Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York to come out with the gold. No American has ever won the papacy, and some cardinals worry an American pope's actions would be viewed as serving the U.S. instead of the church¹.President Obama disagreed with this sentiment, but added that the pope can serve the U.S if he wants to because, "Hey, it's a free country, isn't it?!" 

Mary: Let’s go to the live picture.

Mary: The other live picture.

Mary: Close enough.
John: It seems our competitors are greeting each other with a good luck handshake. Let's get a closer look.
Scherer: Peace be with you.
Dolan: And also with you.
Scherer: GAH! I think you just broke my hand. That's my blessing hand!
Dolan: I have a confession to make. I'm glad.
Mary: Ha. Ha. I'm sure they're joking. Let's zero in on some of the other cardinals.
Scola: Have you thought about what your pope name would be?
Unknown Cardinal: Yes, I'd choose Saint Francis of Assisi.
Scola (mumbling): More like Saint Francis of a sissy.
Unknown Cardinal: What was that?
Scola:...Amen.

John: Enough with the cardinal chirping, let's get this race started! 
Mary: The gun is fired, and the race is on! 

Mary: Scherer is quick out of the gates, perhaps quick is too strong of a word. We’re hoping it’s not another false start, and no flags are raised! FINALLY! We will not being seeing black smoke after this race!

John: Cappuccino is hot on Scherer's tail going full steam in the "espresso lane", as he calls it. I wonder if those uniforms are tricky to maneuver..Speak of the cloth devil! Scherer is tripped up by his own robe! Oo, I don’t think he’ll recover from that one, Mary.

John: Scola, after easily edging into fourth, is trying strenuously to overtake Dolan on the first turn. Dolan is not even leaving enough space for Jesus! I bet Scola is wishing he had a pair of Dolan’s 63-year-old legs to beat him with!

Mary: That sounds morbid.

John: In the middle of the pack, we're seeing a not-so-surprisingly leisurely pace from Ouelett. It appears you can make him run, but you can't make him race.

Mary: I would not want to cross that man.

John: Well his pace would suggest that he doesn't want to be crossed himself.

Mary: Back to the front, we now have Turkson in the lead-

John: Big surprise. I mean, I am surprised, but also not surprised. He seemed equally qualified compared to the other competitors.

Mary: -with Scherer in second and….who is that in third?

John: I'm not sure; he wasn't one of the frontrunners we named earlier.

Mary: We'll find his name later. 
Mary: The cardinals are turning onto the home stretch! Turkson and Scherer are side by side with…Jorge Bergoglio it appears, breathing down their necks. 

John: They shouldn't make the elderly run like this. This is really uncomfortable to watch. 

Mary: Well, that's why it's not normally televised, John. 

Mary: There's 10 meters to the finish line. It's going to be Turkson! No, Scherer! Turkson! 

John: Is that the Holy Spirit?

John: It's Ber-go-go-goooalllllll with the win! Holy smokes! What a race! 

Mary: The white smoke is out, and the crowd is rushing the arena, trying to get to their new pope and hoist him in the air.

John: Oh goodness, No! Did he just fall down? I don't think the cardinals could handle another race! Oh, nope he's just Tebowing. 

Sources:

1. http://gma.yahoo.com/obama-says-american-pope-effective-131206741.html;_ylt=AoxOdueXb6RT4S7xYxGu4Wx.oFlH;_ylu=X3oDMTRmdmY2cjFlBGNjb2RlA3ZzaGFyZWFnMnVwcmVzdARtaXQDTmV3cyBmb3IgeW91BHBrZwNmNjVkYjM5Zi1jYzczLTMwZDMtYWE4OC00NWEwZWE1N2QxNDkEcG9zAzIEc2VjA25ld3NfZm9yX3lvdQR2ZXIDOWE5M2M2YzgtOGJkZi0xMWUyLWJmZTMtMTVkNmJkNzNiYzIy;_ylg=X3oDMTMyY21oZHB1BGludGwDdXMEbGFuZwNlbi11cwRwc3RhaWQDMTliYTVjM2ItZDM5MS0zMDdlLThlZGItYjRjODY1NmRkYTUzBHBzdGNhdANob21lfHRvcHN0b3JpZXMEcHQDc3RvcnlwYWdl;_ylv=3 
2. http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20130313/NATION/303130348/Papal-candidates-range-from-conservatives-prolific-tweeters?odyssey=mod|newswell|img|FRONTPAGE|p
3. http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/cardinals-choose-pope-succeed-benedict-181023715.html 

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The Bible Bacon Fest that never was

If you asked me the type of person I'd expect to meet when entering into a new city, the last guy I'd think of would be the guy Jesus encountered. The first person who greeted Jesus when he stepped off the boat in Garsenes wasn't a sweet old woman with a basket full of friendship bread and a twinkle in her eyes. Instead, he was met by a demon-possessed, homeless and naked, living-in-the-local-cemetery man, who seemed to be having a bit of an inner conflict.

Before the man even had a chance to say, "Help me, there's a demon in my body! ARGGHHH get away! Just kidding, I love you! NOOOOO I DON'T!", Jesus had already commanded the demon out of him. He just looked at the man and knew something was up. Or down, in this situation.

But the man wasn't filled with just one demon, he was housing a plethora of parasitic, soul-sucking hell-raisers, and the demons were none-too-pleased about the prospect of being sent home to papa. In fact, they were scared humanless. The mere sight of Jesus made them shriek and leave their host, knowing that their wild days of partying and mayhem were over.

Fortunately for the demons, there happened to be a large herd of pigs feeding on the hillside nearby. Unfortunately for the shepherd who owned the pigs, his herd was about to get dealt with.

"Please let us go into the pigs! Don't send us back to the underworld" the herd of demons cried. 

Jesus said ok, and the demons entered into the pigs. The entire herd of about 2000 demon-possessed pigs proceeded to bolt to the nearest cliff, fling themselves off it, and drown. If only someone had had the foresight to start a massive bonfire, the town could have had bacon for months.

(Luke 8:26-39)

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The curious day my dad didn't die

Patrick Pastula, 58, died Monday after a well-fought battle with a heart arrhythmia. Pat’s

doctor said, “We always knew that non-fatal heart murmur was going to be the end of him.” He

paused, and added, “I guess.”

He is survived by his wife and two daughters, but not the family dog, who Pat despised.

When asked how she felt about her husband’s death, recently widowed Jill Pastula responded,

“I feel like I just won a million dollars!” referring to the life insurance policy she recently cashed

in. When the Pastulas’ insurance agent and family friend Ron Scholl heard the news, he stated,

“I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

The day’s events began with a phone call, or it would have, had the Pastulas’ daughter Adrienne

answered the phone. Since she is living alone while her mother and father vacation in Florida,

she has been fearful of having to answer the question, “When will your parents be back?” and reveal her unprotected status. Pat and Jill were not scheduled to return to their home at 343 Hillsdale

Street until March 7. Adrienne works at the Hillsdale Community Hospital from 3:30pm to

11:30pm on a casual schedule, and usually returns home around midnight to sleep in the northeast corner of the house.

The early phone call at 7:00 AM would have been unusual if not for the profession of

telemarketing. Adrienne chocked it up to an overzealous telemarketer, but after the eighth ring,

the thought did cross her mind that it may be someone trying desperately to reach the family.

However, she decided against answering the call because “the bed was cozy.”

Adrienne was subsequently reawakened by a knocking at the door. Still believing telemarketers

were to blame for the morning annoyances, she decided it was a kid wanting to make $20

for ten minutes of snow shoveling work, something she is capable of doing herself due to her

abnormally large biceps.

However, the knocker would not leave unacknowledged. Adrienne peered out her window and

noticed a familiar looking vehicle in the driveway: a red Chevrolet belonging to family friend Dan

English, a counselor at Hillsdale High School.

To Adrienne, this was a dream come true in the worst way possible. For reasons not subject to logic,

Adrienne had always imagined hearing her dad’s death from Mr. English at an odd hour of the

morning.

Adrienne opened the door for Mr. English and noticed a series of tracks in the driveway due to

his anxious pacing. He answered the door with a worried look on his face and a cell phone held

to his ear. It is at this point, she reported, she knew something was amiss.

Mr. English asked Adrienne if she had heard from her parents recently, to which she responded

“No” in a more cheerful and non-grieving manner than he expected. Mr. English, who intended

to receive answers from her, now realizes he had unwittingly positioned himself to tell this

woman-child of as-yet-unknown-emotional-reactivity level the news of her father’s passing.

Adrienne, noticing Mr. English’s discomfort, formulated a frantic jumbled prayer only God could

decipher with the basic gist of “Please don’t let any of what Mr. English is about to say be true”

and told Mr. English with overcompensating cheeriness, “No, please, tell me, it’s fine.”

Mr. English paused and responded, “Adrienne, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but your father is

dead. I heard it from Mrs. VanOrman at [Hillsdale High] school who heard it from a ‘reliable

source’. Is there someone we can call to find out?”

Adrienne immediately dialed her mother’s cell phone, who answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello!” Jill answered brightly, perhaps too brightly for someone whose husband had just died,

Adrienne speculated.

Adrienne nonchalantly asked, ”How’s it going down in Florida?” instead of asking directly, “MR

ENGLISH IS HERE AND SAID DAD IS DEAD SO WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT AND WHY DO YOU SOUND HAPPY?”

Jill replied, “The sun is shining, I’m about to go out for a run; all in all a great day so far. Why,

what are you calling about?”

Adrienne then told her of the rumor circulating the halls of Hillsdale High School of her dad’s

death. This, coming as news to Jill, responded that Pat was in bed sleeping, but if someone in

Hillsdale said otherwise, perhaps he wasn’t actually sleeping.

Jill checked on her husband and verified his liveliness. This news caused Mr. English to clutch his

chest and subsequently die with relief.

When Pat was asked how he felt about the matter, he said, “I’m retired, not dead.”

Update: At this time, the ‘reliable source’ has not been identified, although it has been

speculated to be Hillsdale hooligan Jerry Rumler.

The first time the Bible made me laugh

I remember the first time the Bible made me laugh.

I was at PAC Camp (Presbyterian Activiites Camp, though technically I suppose it's called "Presbyterian Activities Camp Camp") zoning out in the pews during Bible time. I was around the age of eight and I hated Bible time. The room reeked of reverence and the stained glass windows reminded me of the Catholic masses I was forced to attend each week. I didn't like that our counselors called this place the Sanctuary. Outside playing the Parachute game was a sanctuary. That place was breezy and exciting and made me feel like I was running under a rainbow. This place, however, was a fun-sucking prison.

I love church camp, as long as it's run by Reverend Rainbow.

But this year was different. That's because this year, a man named Doug Rutledge was our speaker. Doug was about 40-years-old with curly brown hair, a goofy smile, and a wedding ring. What?! He can't be that holy if he's married. He took his place at the sanctuary steps and addressed the room of third graders.

"Did you guys know that the Bible is funny?"

"No!" We responded loudly. Everyone knows that, Doug. Wouldn't that be illegal anyway?

"Seriously?" He said, chuckling. "Have you guys ever read the Bible?"

"Um, yes!" We said defiantly. We go to PAC Camp, of course we've read the Bible. But we were all wondering, Have we read the Bible? Wouldn't we have noticed a joke in there if we had?

"Well I think it's hilarious," he said. Then, he flipped open his Bible to Judges 3 and began to tell us the story of the morbidly obese king who changed my life.

"The Israelites were under the rule of King Eglon for eighteen years, and they were fed up with him. So, God sent Ehud to deliver them from King Eglon's rule¹⁵. Keep in mind that King Eglon is very fat. This is important. It's actually the way the Bible introduces King Eglon. It says, ‘Eglon king of Moab, who was a very fat man¹⁷’ Isn't that sad? What if that's how someone introduced you? 'This is Doug; look at how fat he is! That's really all you need to remember about Doug.'

"So, Ehud gathered some gifts and a posse to carry it, and strapped a double-edged sword to his thigh under his clothing¹⁶. Luckily Ehud's clothing was very loose, so the guards did not notice that there was a two-and-a-half foot long killing machine attached to his leg. This is why we now have airport security.

"Whatcha got under there?"
Just two and a half of these delicious sandwiches....

"Ehud presented the tribute to the king, and sent the carriers on their way¹⁸. Since the king now had his delightful presents, he didn't need Ehud anymore. But to stay a while longer, Ehud said, ‘I have a secret message for you¹⁹. That got his attention.

"'Leave us!' King Eglon demanded, and his attendants immediately exited the room²⁰.'

               "Ehud approached the king's throne and said, 'I have a message from God for you.²¹' Which is exciting. Who wouldn't want to have a personal message from the Lord Almighty?

"Eglon eagerly waited his super secret message, entertaining the possibilities. Eglon, you are just the nicest, or, Eglon, I'm going to make it rain grapes tomorrow; just an FYI. While Eglon was preparing for the news, Ehud whipped out his "secret message" and stabbed him in the stomach with it²¹!  Surprise!

"Then the Bible goes into great detail describing Eglon's guts. Listen up; if it's in the Bible, it must be important: 'His bowels discharged. Ehud did not pull the sword out, and the fat closed in over it.²²’  Guys, that's gross. He's so fat, you could lose a 2 ½ foot-long sword in his body.

"Then, Ehud escaped out the back door and locked it behind him.

“After Ehud had left, the servants went to check on their king, but the back door was locked. 

“He must be relieving himself,²⁴' they guessed awkwardly.

“The servants waited to the point of embarrassment²⁵. The king has been in there for a long time, supposedly taking the largest poop of his life, but it was still plausible. "Where's King Eglon?" Just in the bathroom. He's fat, so, ya know…

“After waiting for many minutes in an uncomfortable tizzy and tapping their sandals for ages, they finally mustered up the nerve to go check on their toilet-bound king, only to find him dead. 

“Guys, that's a crappy way to die.”

After that, Bible became my favorite time of day, even better than when I was pretending to be attacked by sharks in the Parachute game.

Have you ever read a Bible story that made you laugh?

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Awkwardness not averted

This weekend's awkward moments. Take II.

Alaska Youth for Environmental Action (AYEA) recently merged with two other environmental organizations. To celebrate, they threw a merged group launch party.

                At the event, one of the AYEA teens flew up to give a speech about why she loves AYEA and also to ask people to donate money or airline miles so that teens could fly to Juneau for the Civics Conservation Summit in the spring.

                The program manager of AYEA, Megan, gave me and two other interns the donation cards to hand out to the attendees.

                Oh no. I have to ask people for money? This will be awkward.

                “If you’d like to donate, just raise your hand, and one of the interns will be around to give you a form,” Megan announced.

                Score! Awkwardness averted!

                I spotted a woman in the back with her hand raised.

                “Dibs!” I called to the other interns.

                I walked over to the woman gleefully, feeling so ecstatic that I didn’t have to beg people for their funds.

                “Could I have a card?” She asked.

                “Of course!” I responded happily, as I gave her the form and pen.

                She took the items and began to walk close behind me.

                Is she going to fill out the form on my back without asking? That’s odd. Quick! If you offer your back, it won’t be weird.

                “Oh, would you like to write on my back?” I asked generously.

                The woman frowned.

                “No, I’ll just use the table.”

                And she walked two steps more behind me to the table, one of twenty tables located in the room.

                She was still frowning when she returned to hand me her donation.

Bonus Moments:

• That awkward moment when you ask your co-worker if a burn barrel is something you can ice skate with to help you balance.
• That awkward moment when you refuse to cross the street with the same co-worker and yell to warn him that cars are coming as he stands in the middle of the road with his arms open in traffic-stopping form, not realizing that the crosswalk sign is illuminated. 
• That awkward moment when your cousin tells you that you should check out this really snazzy pet lovers’ bakery, and you have to remind her that your dog is dead and you hate your cat.

I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding blood

This weekend's awkward moments. Take I.

              I turned the last corner of my run at what I thought was a reasonable speed. Actually, perhaps it wasn’t my speed that mattered; that massive ice patch would have grounded anyone.

             I hit the pavement hard, and quickly evaluated what just went down.              

Why ice patch, why? I am literally .01 miles from my office door!

Are my hands scraped? Hands scrapes are the worst. Oo, nice save Walmart gloves!

            Is my wrist broken? Nope. You took a beating, wrist. Good job!

            Did my tights rip? Still intact. Another win!

            Okay, quick. Get up before someone from that car you fell right next to asks if you’re ok.               

I jogged sullenly back into the empty office and sat down at my boss’ computer to finish my work.

After a few minutes, I noticed a dark spot on the seat.  My leg was bleeding through my tights onto my boss’ black leather chair.    

                I not-so-quickly hobbled to the bathroom and cleaned up the mysterious wound in my leg. I was under the impression that if my tights weren’t broken, my skin shouldn’t be either. I held toilet paper on my thigh and walked back to the office to find a band aid.

                Luckily, one of the other interns had recently walked in.

                “Hey, I like your shiny black tights,” Debbie said.

                “I’m bleeding through my pants!” I responded in a tizzy.

                Debbie stared at me for a split second.

                “I’m sorry, that sounded weird,” I continued. “I fell and my leg is now bleeding through my tights, so I need a Band-Aid! And I just bled all over Megan’s computer chair.”

                Debbie quickly acquired a band-aid while I quickly sanitized the chair, and the only thing left unmended that night was the ice patch I cracked with my solid fall.

               

Bonus Moments:

                That awkward moment when the woman in the office next door asks you if you were the assistant that was pregnant, because if so, I sure bounced back quickly.

                That awkward moment when a group of fire fighters walk in the building and your friend points at you and yells, “It’s Audrey’s birthday!!”

                That awkward moment when you see someone you met a month ago, but you’re not sure if you’re well-acquainted enough to acknowledge their existence, so you stare at them until they make eye contact, and then keep staring at them until they do a double take, at which you point you feel it’s now ok to loudly say “HEY!” across the grocery store. Yeah, that moment.