The Easter Bunny

What is the singular scariest thing you can imagine?

If you thought of the Easter Bunny, then you are correct.

When I was little, I understood the following about the aforementioned rabbit:
1. He came at night
2. He must be huge, as to hide the eggs in such high places
3. He produced eggs spontaneously, both plastic and somehow the ones I had painted
4. He had free access to my house, backyard, and secret hiding places

Needless to say, Easter's eve was always one of terror. I would lay awake in my bed, imagining this 10-foot rabbit hopping around my living room, he had these red eyes that could see in the dark. "He must eat his carrots," I would think.

Really think about this concept here - if the description of this bunny doesn't match what you were taught, and if you would be scared of anything else like that lurking around your house, then you're with me. I'm not saying we should abolish the Easter Bunny, but rather change what we teach children about him. Or maybe abolish.

Similarly, I don't think rabbits should be used in children's education. Think of the Teletubbies, those rabbits are huge! If one of those Flemmish rabbits hopped in front of your car, you probably would lose.

Blood

(This post will have no picture...I went to google search "blood" and almost fainted).

Those of you who know me pretty well are aware of my unwavering fear of blood. And necks. And wrists for that matter. All are vital for your health and well-being, and should therefore be left alone.

When working for Lands' End over the summer, I was pushing a giant cart with about 1,000 wooden hangers. I was just bouncing away, and then I totally ran the over-filled rack into a lip in the carpet. To watch a thousand hangers fly in every direction was quite a sight, but probably not as interesting as watching me swan-dive over it and hear all of those hangers explode as their wooden frames hit together.

The entire three floors of the store seemed to watch as I got up. My co-workers came over, laughing, and helped to start picking up the hangers. One of them pointed out that my finger was bleeding...a small cut by my fingernail. Horrified I looked at my finger, as they told me where I could go to get a band-aid if I wanted one.

I tried to play it cool, walking over to the first aid room while staring at my hand. Two nice ladies were there to help me, and I kept on looking at my little cut thinking, "man, that blood should really be inside of my hand."

The next thing I knew I was waking up from having fainted. The two women were confused and alarmed, yelling to call an ambulance. Waking up, I told them not to worry about it...that I fainted every time I saw blood. I stayed in the office for a couple of minutes and then went back to work.

The cut probably didn't even need a band-aid.

Blood is best inside the body. I don't know what all the hype is about the BODIES exhibit, telling accident stories, or wearing red for that matter. Let's just let it be.

What Freshmen, Monsters, and Meteors have in Common

On my first day of class I realized there had been a mistake.

The teacher was explaining how the testing center works, what an iClicker is, and that all of the guys should stay clean-shaven. He then asked how many students in the class were freshmen, to which almost all of the enthusiastic arms in the class shot up. I knew I had forgotten something my freshmen year, and this class was it.

Have you ever been in a class with someone doing sign language? It's pretty distracting.
Now have you ever sat next to a Periodic Table the size of a small house? You can't take your eyes off of it.

Right next to me every day is this amazing Periodic Table with all of the elements, and I feel almost like a bug looking into a light. It encapsulates you. I sit there trying to guess what Thorium and Einstenium is. Maybe I've seen it before. Maybe it's in the gum I'm chewing.

One would think that after three months analyzing this monster that I would have conquered it and since gotten bored, moved on, or become so completely absorbed that I look forward to the stare down. Definitely the latter.

Aside from being surrounded by freshmen writing letters to missionaries and sitting beside a looming, fact-filled distraction there has been one benefit of taking the class: meteors.

I spent Monday night up the canyon watching the meteor shower, laying on the snow-covered ground with blankets and coats and leaving behind any idea of personal space. Tuesday night I saw the biggest meteor I had ever seen light up the sky like day. And finally Physical Science has a purpose!

I was told this past week that I could have taken Astronomy instead. MLIA.

Anyways, this video shows the meteor seen on Tuesday.

Tomatoes

When I came to a realization that Mike had a more recent blog post than me, I decided that it was time to take some action.

So I was buying groceries on Saturday, and while I'm sitting there in front of the tomatoes half pretending to look well-versed in tomato-choosing and half resisting the urge to juggle them (they're the perfect size and were screaming my name), a girl walks up behind me.

"I'm sorry, can I squeeze in here?" she said, indicating that she too wanted to look at the tomatoes, and for all I know she wanted to juggle them too.

AND BOOM!

It hit me. Why in the world do we apologize for such ordinary things? She was so sincere in her asking that you would have thought I was guarding a roomful of sleeping babies, and she had turned on the fire alarm. I think there could be a much more natural way for us to inconvenience people without diminishing the sincerity of an apology.

"It's okay," I said. "That's like saying you're sorry for hitting me in bumper cars."

She laughed and we started talking, and she taught me the secret to choosing a good tomato is by its smell.

So pretty much, if you want a good tomato, smell it first.