Problem Solved: Economic Crisis

Lately, people have been really anxious about the whole economic meltdown that's been threatening our nation.

Don't worry, I'm on it.

Fist Of McCain (Not A Cheap Karate Movie)

Nation, it's no secret that my dad is a Demo. But now, so is my family. So, today, in order to combat the dangers of liberalism in my family, I slapped a McCain sticker onto the back of my hand. When I rose my fist into the air, I was literally "Raisin' McCain." I could even say that I knew John McCain like the back of my hand. As my final act of defiance, I punched a picture of Obama. That'll teach the fam.

If only they had listened to my request to do town hall meetings. By now, we could have done at least ten, and I wouldn't have had to resort to such drastic measures.

Physics

I hate my physics class. I hate it more than I hate anything else in the world, except quite possibly my physics teacher. He's a terrible teacher. He's this old guy who uses the word "why" like a Dr. Seuss character. For example, he might say, "With this acceleration, why, think of all the places you'll go!" Except when he says it, he doesn't pause long enough after the "why" and it just sounds like a jumbled, incomprehensible question asked in monotone.

Pretty much everything else he says is incomprehensible too. He has this incredible ability to turn any simple concept into something impossible to understand. And when you can understand it, he goes into "Over Kill Mode" and repeats it a million times. For example, to show that a table can exert normal force against any object he, placed at least 5 objects on the table, and acted like it was a huge magic trick that they didn't fall through the table. Only the physics majors in the front row were laughing by the second go around. By the way, the picture is of him showing us that the table would even exert normal force against his "corpulent body," as he is so fond of saying. 

Essentially, everyone just sleeps through the class, and good thing too, I feel like I need a nap.

Whimpey in the Pool

Oh my gosh, Whimpey was in the pool tonight! And yes, ladies, he DOESN'T look so Whimpey with his shirt off. I know all the Whimpey fans out there are desperate for the update, so I'll share all the juicy details with you.

OMG! I talked to Michael J. Whimpey! Here's the conversation, pretty much verbatim:

Whimpey: Hey, do they have swim lessons here in the summer?

Me: Yeah.

Whimpey: Do they have diving lessons?

Me: No, sir. Go ahead. (Whimpey goes down slide with daughter)

Now, now, I know you're all a little "miffed" that I didn't say more to him, but I was too afraid that I might bring up painful memories of his campaign, and I didn't want to ruin his fun filled evening with his wife and kids.

'NOTHER REASON WHIMPEY'S GREAT: He actually knew our slide laprider policy. No questions asked, he just knew it. Only great people don't get angry with me when I explain it, and only the really really great people go down the slide to get a lifejacket for their kids. Mike Whimpey just showed up with his daughter and a lifejacket, ready to go.

UNFORTUNATELY, he can't dive very well. I'm no connoisseur of diving, but from the top of the slide tower, it didn't look so dignified.

SIGNS OF APATHY AMONG TODAY'S YOUTH: I told the first guard who came to rotate me that the guy standing to her left, yes that one, next to the woman in the red swimming suit, was Michael J. Whimpey. She laughed, and then said "Who?" After that, I told several people, but no one knew who he was. It's sad when kids don't know who the candidates for their city council were. 

So there you have it, the whole scoop on Whimpey Night. You just had to be there to really know how great it was.

PS: He grew a very short beard.

Now announcing the creation of a new blog: The Wii World Channel. For those unfamiliar with the Wii, the Wii Menu is made up of various channels (the Weather Channel, the News Channel, etc.). I'm adding a new one, the Wii World Channel. It addresses the question that we're all faced with, namely, is the Wii going to take over every aspect of life as we know it, and when it does, will it be better? The Wii World Channel candidly explores these questions, with futuristic pictures and in depth analysis. Tune in to the Wii World Channel wii-kly to see what the future could be. 

Visit: wiiliefandwiilaxation.blogspot.com  OR

click on the link that says "A View Of The Future" to begin your Wiiventure.

I usually call him "D" or "Sir." But today, I would like to honor and respect him a little bit more. On this Father's Day, I've decided to reflect on the things that make my dad such a great dad. All the things that I am, I am because I emulated traits in him.

My dad is always kind, and very patient. He's charismatic, and everyone likes him. He's a great mediator, and he's always able to see the story from both sides.

He's smart, and has his PhD. I hope to someday be as intelligent, and have as good of an ability to make thoughtful faces as my dad.

My dad sticks up for the things he believes in. He's a Democrat, a rarity in Utah, and he sticks up for it. He gets in trouble with his superiors for his beliefs, but continues stand true to his morals.

My dad is hilarious. He has a random sense of humor that I truly connect with. He's never afraid to do silly things the rest of us are afraid to do to make someone laugh.

My dad is a provider. This is a picture of him in his samurai getup before he goes to hunt wild beasts in the morning.

My dad is always willing to help us out. Even when the job is as unpleasant as Calculus homework, or carrying Julia.

My dad always spends time with us and gets into the things we like to do. He actually knew all 150 Pokemon, and had defeated the Elite Four. He got all 120 Stars in Super Mario 64, and got every jiggy in Banjo Kazooie. He even learned to text! I love to spend time with my dad. He makes most anything fun.

My dad always treats my mom with love. He's an excellent example of what a husband should be. I hope I can be like him (that is, if I ever get married). He's a great example for me at all times, and I love my dad. Happy Father's Day, Sir.

PS: Sometimes he breaths fire, so don't get on his bad side.

Graduation Speeches

Many of you attended my graduation ceremony on Friday. Quite frankly, I thought the whole thing was a waste of time. However, I won't be addressing that opinion in this blog. No, the purpose of this blog is to show a taste of what could have been. 

I was asked, among others, to prepare a graduation speech and participate in a speech-off. It was basically a death match, though I refrained from killing any of the other candidates. Instead, I killed the time honored tradition of traditional graduation speeches. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: my graduation speech.

B.F. Skinner once said, “Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.” Incidentally, B.F. stands for Burrhus Frederick, which is arguably one of the most comical names I’ve ever heard. But who was this Skinner man, the man behind the Burrhus? He was a psychologist, who drove patients insane by saying confusing things like, “Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.”

No, seriously, Professor Skinner was an influential psychologist, and a very important man. Here on Graduation Day, we also aspire to become important men. Except for those of us who are women, who aspire to become important women.
 

As we leave Mountain View, we ask ourselves, how can we become important men and women? My guess is that it has something to do with education surviving after what has been learned has been forgotten.
 

But what does that mean? When the Graduation Committee gave me this quote, they essentially gave me a blank check, allowing me to run away with the interpretation however I pleased.
 

“Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.” Perhaps it means we’ve already got our education, and now we should try to forget as much as possible. Perhaps the Grinch said it best when he declared, “Maybe education doesn’t come from a store, maybe education…perhaps…means a little bit more.”
 

And perhaps it does mean a little bit more. Here at Mountain View, much like the Grinch, we’ve puzzled till our puzzlers were sore, we’ve done school work till we couldn’t, no more. Forgive the grammar, English teachers, I just felt the need to write poetry, which is something else we’ve done here at Mountain View.
 

But what will happen when we’ve forgotten what we’ve puzzled, and what we’ve studied? What will remain of our high school careers? Might I suggest, in the words of B.F. Skinner, that “education, is what survives?” What will remain is our memories of the good times here at Mountain View, the friends that we’ve made, and the wonderful administration. What getting an education has taught us are the things that no book can teach, not even the Bible. We will have learned how to learn, and we will have gained confidence in ourselves. The skills we have developed, whether they be music, drama, dance, foreign language, business, computers, or underwater basket weaving, will follow us throughout our lives, whether or not we make a career of them. While the actual substance of what we have learned, the quadratic formula, the laws of thermodynamics, or iambic pentameter, may be forgotten, the life lessons taught, the talents cultivated, and the myriad things that make high school high school have intertwined to make what is called an education, which will define who we are for the rest of our lives.
 

So, hopefully, our lives have grown through gaining an education these past few years. However, our hearts may not have grown three times like the Grinch. As for rhymes, maybe this’ll do in a pinch.

I’ll talk no more, my speech is through,

Congratulations, senior class of Mountain View.

Poll Results

The results are in. The poll has closed. And clearly, "Something Free" has won the vote with a stunning 72%. Either that or Costco has won it all, which is entirely possible. I will now interpret the results using my vast knowledge of statistics.

First, the results may be incorrect. I personally have seen votes change all the time. At one point, some economically minded person had voted for "Robbing A Bank." The vote disappeared when they were apprehended by authorities. At another time, there was a vote for "Hanging Out," but it was so lame that both the person and the vote died. And so, after much strife, we come to our present poll scores. 

Secondly, we much check for either "normality" or a large sample size. It wasn't a large sample, and the sample was probably not normal. Maybe it was normal in the statistical sense, but you people are definitely a "nonnormal population." And so, I should probably not being doing statistical analysis on this poll. 

Instead, I will interpret the broader meaning of this poll. First, because "Something Free" won, I must conclude that there are some girls out there that I should obviously go out with. Never pass up a date with a "financially savvy young lady." I must also conclude that it is socially acceptable to go to Costco for samples.

Unfortunately, capturing an alarming 28% of the vote were the "Boring Romantic People." These people simply disgust me. They probably think it's fun to kiss. Or hold hands, or some other unacceptable form of physical contact. Frankly, I'm sorry to see that our country has stooped so low, that our lives are becoming more like chick flicks than war movies. I think we should move towards kung-fu movies, because the women can always karate chop heads off in those movies. 

And that's the option I forgot for the poll! "Karate Chopping Random People!" What a great date! 

Thanks for answering the poll! Please give me ideas for the next poll, or just call me mean names for this one!

I haven't posted in forever, but I think really need to start again, so I'll post the funny essay thing I was supposed to write for English.

Butterflies

A butterfly is an insect of the order Lepidoptera. Like all Lepidoptera, butterflies are notable for their unusual life cycle with a larval caterpillar stage, an inactive pupal stage, and a spectacular metamorphosis into a familiar and colourful winged adult form. Most species are day-flying so they regularly attract attention. The diverse patterns formed by their brightly--

Shoot. I seem to have inserted my biology homework (I did that in class too. You would not believe the look from the English teacher when he thought that was my "funny essay."). Here goes for real:

MV Speed Bump Mauls Small Child

OREM, UT- A small child was attacked by a gigantic speed bump in the Mountain View parking lot, authorities stated Thursday night. According to local residents, the speed bumps frequently claw at the bottom of cars that travel over them, and the scattered carcasses of vehicles are strewn all over them. 

Apparently they’ve developed at taste for human flesh. 

Little Timmy Tompkins told police he was walking unattended through the parking lot late Thursday afternoon when one of the speed bumps reared up and attempted to devour him. As chilling evidence to his story, Timmy’s face was scratched, and so were his elbows and knees.

“He’s lucky the speed bumps are not yet fully matured,” declared Paul Pylon, a speed bump scientist at the Utah Institute of Fictional Biology. “They can grow up to three feet tall,” he further elaborated. 

“It was more than big enough, and it’s a menace!” screamed an irate Ira Irking, spokeswoman for the Mothers Against Driving Dangers (MADD). Already, the speed bumps are visible on Google Earth (motto: “Proudly Helping Students Find Their Teachers’ Houses Since 2005). 

“We anticipate being able to see the speed bumps from space with our naked eyes in the near future,” confided Jack “Buzz Lightyear” Jackson, the first astronaut to successfully complete the suited orbit of the flagpole outside Mountain View, and who has seen the devastating effects of the speed bumps firsthand. “These are majestic creatures, really quite magnificent,” he continued. “Though I’d have to admit I wouldn’t want one stuck down my shorts.”

Though little Tompkins was attacked by a speed bump, it was only one of the two species that make Mountain View their home. The parking lot is also the habitat for speed humps, the smaller relative of the speed bump in the Asphaltus family. The police found the humps in the north side of the parking lot. 

“They are much less vicious than the bumps,” stated Pylon, who is very eager to get his fictional research into the scientific mainstream, where he can receive federal grant money. All presidential candidates have declined to comment on their position on “bump and hump research” for this article.

In fact, there is an even smaller species, called the speed lump, which is used to slow Hot Wheels Cars. The CEO of Fantastical Sounding Imaginary Biological Products, Inc. was unavailable for comment, but products from the company are expected to hit WalMart shelves early 2009, as are computers, livestock, and tactical nuclear weapons. WalMart representatives were also unavailable for comment, though an “associate” stated that he was sure WalMart sold comments at “rolled back prices.”

Timmy Tompkins is in good condition, and is expected to make a full recovery after his encounter with the speed bump. Until bump conditions in the parking lot improve, police advise throwing steaks to the speed bumps when walking past to appease them.

“You can also push a friend towards the speed bump to distract them,” Pylon cheerfully observed. “If you don’t have a friend, push a teacher.” –Mark Siebert, The Daily Fiction News

I Am Legend

No. I haven't seen it. I swear I get a "Have you seen I Am Legend?" more than I get normal comments, like, "Hi," or "Death to Hillary!" It's getting to be quite a problem. In fact, as I'm writing this, someone has just Instant Messengered me and asked if I have seen I Am Legend.

I Am Legend. There's no getting around the fact. I see frightening parallelisms between my own life, and Will Smith's acting. In the movie, a virus supposedly turns everyone on the Earth except Will Smith (because he has excellent writers) into zombies who then attack said actor. Or they turn into corpses. Incidentally, this movie is turning everyone on the Earth into a zombie who is forced to attack me with the question, "Have you seen I Am Legend?" And about the corpses, I'm sure someone's had an epileptic seizure while watching the movie.

From the plot of the movie, I can see that I will soon be the only living man on Earth who has not seen the movie. The only thing I can't see mimicking the movie is the dog. Sorry, I'm pretty sure if I was the last man alive, I sure wouldn't be talking to my dog for moral support. I would be eating it for nutritional support.

Another Cause For Cancer

Since the beginning of time, or at least the past couple of decades, mankind has been plagued by a problem. A problem singlehandedly responsible for obesity, rising divorce rates, and Al Gore's Nobel Peace Prize. It has also been linked to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Of course, you current events savvy people already know what I'm speaking of. For the rest of you, I refer to the annoying beeping sound videogames make when you're nearly dead.

A staple in the Pokemon and Zelda franchises, the noise has driven countless gamers into insanity. I personally kill my little guy whenever I get to that point in any game. It's the only way to maintain my hold on my mental facilities. I'm absolutely certain it's the only reason for the end of the Golden Age of the Pokemon Fad. It's a sad day when our nation's children have no idea that Squirtle evolves into Wartortle, but can easily name our nation's presidents. What is this country coming to?

We need to take action on the "Annoying Beeping of Communism" problem. Write your Congressperson and tell them your concerns. They will likely never get the letter, but their staff might laugh until drool runs onto their legal notepads. This is because they don't care. They are funded by the "Beeping Interests Economic Program" (acronym pronounced "Beep," in various degrees of vehemence, depending on the amount of anger being expressed). They couldn't care what happens to you, as long as they get their check from the Beeping Special Interest Groups. I suggest that we send them a Gameboy, with a nearly dead Pokemon and the sound on full blast. The drool on their legal notepads won't be from laughter then.

The Chargers

The title of this blog is actually an attempt to gain the sports fan readership. They've been tricked. Yesterday my mom took my brothers, my sister and I to the Timp Caves. I was not particularly excited about this trip, in fact I was vocal in saying that I didn't want to go look at a stupid hole in the ground. After seeing it, I still wasn't convinced that it was all that great. I mean, I could have had a comparable experience if I went on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, plus I would have been sitting, not to mention listening to a pirate song and watching very "real" looking pirates fight each other.

What got me even more was how much they charged to go into the place. It cost money to drive into the park. Then it cost money to hike to the caves and listen to some guy with an awful sense of humor tell us about cave formations. He really reminded me of Dwight K. Schrute, except he lacked a certain element that might have actually made him funny. In fact, he even looked like Dwight when he turned out the lights and was holding a candle to his face. However, I would never trust him, because he said his name was "Bob," when his name tag actually said "Robert." I didn't know which to believe.

Why in the world would we have to pay to go see the caves? Well, this is America. We have taxes, which basically means we pay the government to work. So, obviously, we have to pay to look at a natural formation in the country. It makes perfect sense. On the way down, my mom wanted to visit the gift store to see if they had playing cards. I'm glad it was closed. We wouldn't have been able to afford them anyways. If the place charges seven bucks a person to hike three miles, I can only imagine how much it would cost to buy some fun.

Pass the Conference Bowl

Yesterday in Seminary, it was the Conference Bowl. I was hoping that it was a bowl of candy, or maybe a bowl of popcorn, but it's actually a competition to see who's class has the best knowledge of what happened in Conference. At least, that's how it's supposed to work in theory. However, because you can use notes, not to mention the notes of anyone in your class, it's actually a competition to see which class has the best notetakers. I prefer the candy.

Of course, I'm sure you're all dying to know how I did. Well, I got to go up there once. My question was asking for the name of the document created by the leading Christians under duress from Emperor Constantine. Of course, I know all of you are just screaming "It's the Nicene Creed, you moron!" I didn't scream that, but I did write Nicene Creed on my whiteboard, and quickly pushed the button to ring in my answer. No one else knew the answer. A lesser man might boast about this, but mostly I'm just concerned. Why is it that the question I answered instantaneously, without any thought, was actually a matter of Catholic history?

I won't try and answer that. I'll let whoever reads this blog leave their own sarcastic reason. Just bear in mind I wasn't the only 0ne who was out of line. Bro. Lowe, my seminary teacher, was cheating, just as he always does, letting the students in his class use his notes. "Low on the competition, high on the happiness," he declared. "Lowe in the competition, high on happiness," I revised, ad libbing a newspaper headline.

I'm sad to see that Conference Bowl has degenerated to the point where even the Seminary Teachers are cheating. What was once a noble tradition for the pure in heart is now just an excuse to call other classes mean names. Classes set themselves above each other in a show of pride. I need something to drown my sorrows in. I need to eat to relieve the pain of my soul. Pass the Conference Bowl, please.

Homecoming Or Homestaying

Lately, I've been getting a lot of accusations of being antisocial. Because I feel a need to defend myself, I will do it on a blog, so I don't need to talk to any of those people.

I didn't go to Homecoming. I did, however go to the football game, and I even wore my spirit shirt. Anyone who actually knows me knows that that is the most school spirit I have ever displayed in my life. We pummeled the Springville Red Devils. "And thus we see that the devil will not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell." (Alma 30:60)

I'm glad I went to Homestaying instead. Here are some reasons why:

- Every time someone said that there was a girl crying at home because of me, I would just think of the wallet not crying in my pocket.

- I don't plan on going to UVSC (It will never be UVU for me). Not even a dance there.

- George Bush doesn't have Homecoming, he has a Homestead. What's good enough for W is good enough for me.

- I see enough of those people on the weekdays, I don't need to see them on the weekends too.

So there you have it. Four perfectly good reasons for being antisocial and staying home. Oh, and the fifth. Razzleberry Pie. I bet my little brother is sad he missed out on that. Sucker.

The Number Game

The other day I walked into swim practice and was confronted with a vision of Orem High's JV Swim Team. There was a kid there who was in my sixth grade class, only I didn't remember his name. All I remembered was his number in the numerical system that was set up in that class. #30.

I began to realize what was done to me in that class has twisted and scarred me. I remember many of the students in that class's faces, but not many of their names. Not one of their numbers has been forgotten. It's sick how these people, the memories, and the personalities, have all been erased by numbers. They no longer hold any more value to me than an integer like 18 (Jake Mortensen).

This summer, I was assigned a number at work to clock in and clock out of. I memorized it in a day, and now it comes without any thought. My subconscious sees me as this number. I can't help but think that numbers are erasing our identities. Each time I open my math book, I am confronted with numbers. Are all the problems in the book people who lost their identities, remembered only in math books? What if one of the problems I did today and hated was actually my great great grandfather? Are my pretend friends from childhood only remembered as imaginary numbers (23i)?

The number business must stop. We need to stop chanting "We're number one," at sporting events. We're just losing our identities when we do. Take back your name! Write off those numbers! At least spell them out! Vote for the presidential candidate that supports abolishing numbers. Let's get rid of the numbers once and for all. This is 26, over and out.

School Spirit Salad

This week at school we had "Hi Week." As if the questionable name was not enough, we were also supposed to dress up to show our "spirit." The theme was Salad, which deceptively enough, did not require us to make Adam and Eve clothes out of lettuce leaves. Thankfully, we just had to dress up like a different type of salad each day, even though salad technically has nothing to do with our school; the Mountain View Lettucehead would not be a good mascot (though Lettucehead would be a good name for a band).

Monday: Italian Salad Day. The problem with this day was that most people had never had an Italian Salad in their lives, and had no idea how to dress up. For some reason, most people thought pizza and pasta were Italian, not salad.

Tuesday: Ranch Salad Day. No one drenched themselves in ranch dressing. Most people just dressed up as cowboys, showing how little our student body actually pays attention in US History. The cowboys were pretty much wiped out by the ranches in the Ranch Wars. Whoops. If spikes weren't against the dress code, I would have worn a belt of barbed wire.

Wednesday: Thousand Island Salad Day. No one dressed up as an island by standing in a pool, let alone a thousand islands. For some reason they wore grass skirts. Guess we should have called it Inhabitants Of A Thousand Islands Salad Day.

Thursday: Caesar Salad Day. This one was really the only one that really made sense. It seemed simple, just dressing up as Caesar. However, there was a problem. Aren't togas against the dress code?

And so there you have it. The sad story of "Hi Week," culminating in a sophomore who overdosed. Wait... that wasn't right. Friday was Spirit day, which is just basically a contest to see who can find the biggest objects that are red or gold and then wear them (the winner wore a fire truck). I personally did not dress up any of those days. Quite frankly, I think it's a scheme by the Student Council who would just love to feel so cool and powerful because they could get people to wear fire trucks. I refuse to give them anymore power than the power to cut class on "Student Council Business." And the power to get "Hi."

Blackberries: If Only They Were All Phones

Blackberries are delicious, and they look so tempting to pick.

But to get to the berries you have to go through this:

And even the flowers you go through look like this:

A lot of people in my family will get into this stuff, physically placing themselves into the thorns to get a berry. Me, I figure some other sap will do it, and I don't have to get hurt. I tend to pick them like this:

Or, even better:

Teachers In Washington

Wherever I go around Washington, I am constantly reminded that school is coming back. The names of streets and various places that have to do with school are all over the place. I know that There's Eugene, Oregon, and he hails from Vale, but in Washington, I caught a glimpse of Clark's Restaurant. Apparently not one for beating around the bush, he named a restaurant after himself. That or someone who had his class named it after him... As if this wasn't enough evidence that Clark is out and about in Washington, I also saw Custer Street.

And then there was Carpenter Street. I was particularly glad to see this, because Carpenter is really almost all I'm looking forward to about this upcoming year. Unfortunately, there was also Rich's Stove, Spa and Patio. That was definitely a harsh reminder that school stinks.

Crazy Canadians

This story happened to me about a month ago, but I've told it to several people, and I figured that I should just stop telling it and have them refer to a written format. That way I don't have to waste my time trying to be funny with the same joke over and over again. I don't like to be redundant.

So anyways, about a month ago I was working the late shift at the Rec Center. There was an old lady splashing water on her grandson from the hot tube. I was watching her very closely cause she had already told the head guard that she had had multiple brain strokes. I told her that she probably shouldn't be doing that, and she climbed out and stuck her finger into my face. "You're one of the mean, nasty ones, aren't you?" she demanded. "Yes, I'm the meanest and the nastiest one there is," I said, not sure if she was altogether there.

"I've been there," she said, "I was the first female Canadian lifeguard. I had to do all the regular stuff, and swim 40 miles." I wasn't sure that that was possible, seeing as how my 20 minute mile time would still leave her at over thirteen hours at my top speed. "Smoking is bad," she continued, "that's what happened to me." She walked off, leaving me highly bewildered.

Five minutes later, she came back. Dreading what she would say, I scanned the opposite end of the pool. "Have you seen my sexy daughter?" she asked. "Um... I can't say that I have, ma'am," was my response. She shambled away, leaving me feeling somewhat violated, and totally confused. Crazy Canadian.

The Bobby Pin Challenge

On Thursday, it rained in the morning, resulting in an almost empty pool. I was a rover, so basically I was supposed to wander around helping any lifeguard who needed help with patrons. But there were none, so I created the Bobby Pin Challenge. The challenge was to pick up as many bobby pins off the floor as possible. I won, with a stunning 33 and a half bobby pins (I know, everyone has a problem with "half," but this literally was half a bobby pin.).

But this got me thinking. People can get fined for littering, but women lose bobby pins all the time without any punishment. This is because it is part of their biological makeup. Cats spit up fur balls, but but women are much more like dogs in this particular aspect. Women shed bobby pins. You can't hate them for it; it's just their nature.

However, it's important to consider the bobby pin issue when making choices in girls. It can make a huge difference in the bobby pin budget, not to mention the number you'll have to pick up. The shorter haired breeds shed less. Keep this in mind when you're finding the girl for you.

I'm sure this post will draw criticism from girls everywhere, but I was just telling it how it is. I'm sure you could find similar information on Wikipedia. However, I'll end up a martyr for this post. You'll find me on the pool deck, bobby pins stabbed into me in every direction. Pick 'em up, and you might be the new record holder of the bobby pin challenge.