The Time I Almost Died

This is a story about the time I almost died.  I was probably 10 or 11 years old, and my family decided we should have a little weekend vacation. Instead of going on a normal people trip, they thought it would be a good idea to go on a "float trip", which is code word for "Be really bored in a hollowed out tree on a river for about 5 hours."

 Even less exciting when it's actually a tree.

The trip went about as you would expect for the first 31/2 hours. Laying there, doing nothing. The highlight so far was stopping on an island to have a picnic, which was only exciting because I had to pretend we were deserted there and were going to have to live like we were on Survivor or Man vs Wild. But then I remembered they eat bugs and drink their own pee and things went back to being boring again.

Stuck on an island? Better drink my own... no, actually

I think I'll stick with the Kool Aid.

I made the mistake of thinking I wanted things to be more exciting, but little did I know how much I would pay for this.

We were floating down the river, minding our own business, when we hit an intersection in the river. We could take the wide, calm watered route, or we could take the route with 40 mph rapids with a tree hanging across half the river. I put on my best Rambo (Sambo?) face and paddled headlong into the rapids.

An accurate representation

Bam! Crash! Onomatopoeia! In a sudden whir I notice that I was hanging for my dear life onto a branch of the tree, with every memory flashing before my eyes, including a few other people's memories. This was it. Any minute now my grip would falter and I would be swept into the current of death, with no hope of survival. I then actually looked to see my dad only no more than waste deep in water, when I realized I could easily touch my feet to the ground. The day was saved!

And that's why you never EVER go on float trips.

Job Search

I really want to consistently blog. I really do. But two things have taken over my life lately. Portal 2, and searching for a job. Lucky for me, I beat Portal 2, so now I have nothing else to help me procrastinate from looking for a job other than this! Yay!

Searching for a job is kind of like Portal 2: It's puzzling, 

and there's probably a giant robot computer thing trying to kill me.

But who knew that finding a job could be so frustrating! You have to like go places and fill out applications or go online and fill out applications and they have like really long questionnaires about whether you would help a customer or if you've committed murder or steal puppies or kill stolen puppy customers and it's really boring and stuff. And then you do all this for them to be like "lol no" and you don't get the job and you live as a hobo.

Also some sort of mutant clown-Waldo or apparently.

 

 

So I end up between a rock and a hard place and also theres like a hobo clown-Waldo hitting me with his scarf: Do I spend time trying to get a job when all the good jobs don't want me and all the stupid ones are stupid? Or do I just give up and deal with the constant nagging from parents?

That Rock-Author star doesn't seem to be too impossible of a job after all...

I'm Back!

Hello blog world! After a while of not blogging (my older post's self fulfilling prophecy being self-fulfilled), I'm back to do some more bloggifericationing. With any luck, this time I will be here for AT LEAST 2 weeks. Or 1. Or a few days. Hey, I got one post out at least!

So anyways, today I'm going to tell you about one of my earliest memories! This experience severely traumatized me and I'm pretty sure that any normal person would have schizofreniparanoiahysteriopsychosis after this.


Picture in your mind being 3 years old. Or maybe 2. Or even 1 and a half, I don't know my memory doesn't have a calender, it really should go buy one. Anyways, you're 3-2-1&1/2 years old and in the far distant jungles of Africa. And by jungles I means zoo. And by Africa I mean San Diego.

Anyways, you're there with your mom and dad who promise to love you and care for you and never do anything to intentionally get you viciously mauled by wild animals, and then suddenly they're gone. They've disappeared, and you're lost forever. All you can think about is how evil all the animals around you are that are going to eat your face and maybe one of your arms and like, use your legs as chew toys. Remember how my dog saw the fly in the last post?

Yeah. That thing has an SMG, a knife, and a laser cannon. And it was staring straight at me. My mom and dad, who in my 3-2-1&1/2-year-old mind had magic gun/knife/laser-wielding-panther fighting abilities, were nowhere to be found. Naturally, I did what any brave soul would do in that sort of situation. I sat down and started bawling my eyes out. The next thing I know, my parents rushed to the rescue, and the evil gun/knife/laser panther turned back into a cardboard cut out of a lion. The day was saved. But I couldn't ever trust my parents to take care of me ever again. They claim they were trying to "teach me a lesson" and that "they were there the whole time" and that I "kept wandering off," but I know they're secretly in the GKLWPLWPWHTC (Gun and Knife and Laser Wielding Panther League With Parents Who Hate Their Children).

The GKLWPLWPWHTC: Kinda like the Justice league but instead of Batman it's 

"Gunknifelaserpantherman" and Superman is like, "Parentwhowantshischild'sfacetobemauledoffman"