What to do next time you're on fire

We're all in the same fish bowl of life. Running over the same old grounds. All meeting at one common place we call… JBUDD NEWS.

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I just got done with EFY. One thing that caught my attention is those little braille signs everywhere. Every class room, elevator and emergency exit has some braille written under it. I'm sure you've seen them. I'm sure some congressman 20 years ago thought it was a brilliant way of helping the blind, but lets be honest: How many times have you ever seen a blind person just hugging the walls and FEELING around? "I KNOW THERE'S SOME BRAILLE SOMEWHERE! You can't hide forever!"

Next time I see a two blind guys, I might be tempted to pull the fire alarm.
"START FEELING AROUND BILLY! WE GOT TO FIND THE FIRE ESCAPE PLAN!"

In the dorms I was staying in, it had the escape plan written inside each room with a little map. I can understand the map if you've got some secret passages in the building, but most of us know where the front door is. I was looking at it, and basically it had a red arrow directing me outside. I was thinking, "OH, so if there's a fire, I want to go OUTside! OH OK! My original plan was to run TOWARDS the fire!"

If there's fire in your hall, my first response isn't going to be. "Hmm... I wonder if there's any good literature posted on the wall..." It's gonna be, "AAAAHHH! fire fire fire fire!" I might be jumping through my glass window, or maybe doing some stop drop and rolls. I'm not going to be looking for the fire escape plan!

Stop drop and roll. Isn't that a convenient little rhyme. I'm convinced that it's not coincidence, because that's not how we practiced it. In our extensive elementary training on the subject, it was more: "lay down and roll!" I would, however, enjoy seeing someone who actually was on fire running around then suddenly stop like they hit a brick wall, going completely limp like they're dead, and then start rolling around. Actually, now that I mention it, just seeing someone on fire would be pretty funny. ESPECIALLY if they were running around frantically. you know what I would tell him? "STOP DROP AND ROLL! JUST STOP DROP AND ROLL!"

That phrase was pounded into our heads while going thru our school systems. When we were in Kindergarten they taught the system like so:
"Mr. Biggles (who just happens to be an imbecile (and a bunny rabbit)) was playing with matches. He lit himself on fire. What should he do?"
Kids hands shoot up in the air.
"Billy?"
"not play with matches!"
"Very good Billy, but he's alREADY on fire. So it's a little too late for that isn't it?"
(Billy cowers in the corner.)
"Timmy? you got the answer?"
"Is it... Stop Drop and Roll?"
"correct. One gold star for Timmy!"

When we're in 8th grade it gets a little tougher:
"OK twerps. Lets say you and your punk friends are riding the bus. 14 kids are girls, and 15 are guys. The bus driver is from Mexico. 8 of you leave the bus when a Shiite jumps out from the bushes with a flame thrower and torches 3 of your friends dead, and leaves you on fire... what do you do?"
Kids pencils are flying.
"14 girls? (scratch scratch scratch) Mexican... (scratch scratch)"
Smart kid raises his hand.
"Yoshi?"
"is the answer... Stop Drop and Roll?"
"3 Gold Stars for Yoshi."
"Hip hip hurray! hip hip hurray!"

at least that's how it was in MY school...

***Story of the Week***
This story dates back to Aug. 16 2007 when I was in the MTC.

I woke up to an alarm that I've never heard of before. After a few beeps I decided in my mind "That's the fire alarm!" so very robotically I got out of bed and flipped on the light to the groan of everyone in the room. I went and shook my companion awake. "hey the fire alarm's going off!" So we all woke up, I very quickly grabbed my name tag, wallet, and sandals and took off towards the exit in hopes to get my companion to hurry up. I was kind of excited about the whole thing and secretly wanted it to be real. I looked at my watch. 5:00am.

Finally my companion came and we went outside as the whole building of elders started to congregate. The Samoans and Tongans looked like they were going to freeze to death and one had a giamungus blanket and was still shivering. Everyone was in a zombie like daze when I finally came to my senses as I thought to myself out loud, "why am I wearing my name tag?" to the laughter of everyone around me.

Finally security shows up and clears the building and finds the problem. Someone wanted to microwave popcorn at 5 in the morning. He probably woke up in the middle of the night and looked at that popcorn and said to himself, "I cannot sleep another minute until the popcorn is UP IN FLAMES! so we all went back to bed a little more pissed than normal.

Security knocked on our door.
"did any of you guys do it?" and we told him "no." When he left McFarland said, "It was ME! I got up, put the popcorn in for 30 minutes then went back to bed!" must have been the time of the night, but it seemed really funny. The next day, we were pestering an elder about it we said, "Elder Meyers! why did you catch your popcorn on fire?" and he shot back. "well... I like my food HOT!" in a matter of fact way.

I recently ran into this elder Meyers at EFY (he was working too.) and caught a candid stalker shot of him. Enjoy.

Well that finishes the Newsletter. Remember, JBUDD NEWS is best read in email form, so if you haven't already, subscribe by email by putting your email in the box at the top right side of the page that says, "subscribe by email." Or if that sounds too hard, email clubfilm@gmail.com and put the subject as, "ADD"

Remember#2 - JBUDD NEWS want to hear from you, so if you have any success stories or comments, email clubfilm@gmail.com and you might just make it into the newsletter.

I'll talk to you again soon.

Your Friend,

JBUDD

Ode to Car - and the Sorcerer's Fuel Pump of Fire (part3)

Click here for part one and part two

***COMMENT ***
You forgot the part where we had to remove half of the bottom of that small land yacht to replace the fuel pump. 
     -R Blake

***RESPONSE***
Oh yes MR Blake.  How could I forget?

Story Title:
JBUDD: and the Sorcerer's Fuel Pump of Fire

I got my new grandpa car, I was on top of the world!  Driving from place to place, buying groceries all by myself, going to pick up a movie at the local Hastings, driving to friends' places.  Life was exuberant to say the least.  To show my gratitude for the car dubbed, "The USS BUDD"  I tried to park next to other grampa cars whenever possible so the land yacht had company through the night.

 

I took it to a gas station round here called, "Aggie Station" and did the whole voodoo "pay outside" put in your card thing.

After swiping my card, I was completely lost.  Don't get me wrong, I've filled up a car with gas before, but this one was... DIFFERENT.  There was like no button to choose the grade of gas to use, and they had some ghetto sign hanging on the pump.

Terrified and lost, I canceled the transaction and got the "H" out of there, went to 7-11, filled up my car, got back in, turned the ignition, and heard the dreaded sound.  I'll try and reenact it for you, it goes something like this, "jitititititirrrrrriititititi"

People started to look at me.  A tough yet attractive girl came over and said, "It's an alternator problem.  Happened to me not long ago"

Later some dude came over, "It's your fuel injectors."

That seemed a little more plausible to me, since the problem sounded like a lack of fuel and not electrical until finally my battery died.

A newly engaged couple offered to tow me back to the Old FARM parking lot, where my car sat for the next few months.  Laying as lifeless as an inadament object can lay.  Gathering snow, as the other "popular" cars'  snow were being scraped off everyday.

I resorted back to the transportation that I've used since I was born - walking.  I was used to it, so I didn't have any problem with it, and almost convinced myself that I never even HAD a car.  It was just a dream.

The hustle and bustle of college life diminished as the semester dwindled to an end.  The USS BUDD still lied motionless.  I had to get him out of there.  I couldn't leave my loyal friend behind!  I was determined that we were going to bust out of the "old farm," and we were going to do it TOGETHER.

The day before I was forced out of my apartment, my friend "R Blake" helped me to fix it.  We spent 5 hours on our backs trying to unriddle this problem like some sick bewitched game from Harry Potter.

"The task is to replace the fuel pump from the chamber of gas.  However, to get INSIDE the chamber, you must remove the tank that is full of molten gas without spilling a drop on your robes.  A drop of muggle gas is equivalent to the sting from a viper.  To remove the tank, you must get past the fire-y exhaust pipe from the catalyst converter.  To achieve this, you must get past the U ring that has been enchanted with 17 years of rust."

However bleak this may sound.  you will be excited to know, that we did it... we GOT the sorcerers stone! I MEAN fuel pump!

THE END...

some pictoral evidence:

PS:  NEW VID - a 30 second short called, "epic Distraction

Ode to Car - The 1993 Mercury Cougar Edition

If JBUDD NEWS was my child, and I was it’s parent, social workers would be on my case about neglect by now. I would then start to wonder, “how did THEY know I was neglecting my child?” Then I’d be suspicious of my neighbors and friends whom I confided my secret. That would probably ruin our relationships, and make me not trust anyone. I’d probably hide in my house, holding a shotgun, peaking thru the blinds at passing neighbor kids while little JBUDD NEWS was crying in the crib.

That sounds like WAY too much drama for me. So instead, I’m just going to write today:

I just got done with fall break today, and I must say, this weekend was DEFINITELY one the top 500 weekends of my LIFE, putting another 350 miles on my car.

I don’t think my car has ever had a formal introduction. I call her, “the USS Budd.” This to-scale picture should give you a good idea as to why.

The story goes like this:

I was walking by the classified listings in the student center, and there she was, in all her baby blue grampa glory…

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t fall INSTANTLY in love. It was when I took a look at the PRICE! “$800?” I said to myself, “I think I got that.” I called hobo man up, and we set an appointment in two hours to test it out.

As I approached the corner of 7th and 8th I saw a big hobo looking man on the corner, and judging by the description given me, I stereotypically reasoned it must be him.

Looking back, I don’t know WHY I actually bought it. The whole thing was super shady. The guy was trying WAY too hard to convince me how cool it was. He was selling me on all the repairs he had ALREADY done on it! “I put like $1,600 into repairing this thing. I had to replace the tail lights, the hoses, the power steering pump, etc. ...That window's SUPPOSED to make those noises when it goes down like that...”

Well is it working NOW? Can I DRIVE it? Is it going to spontaniously explode on me?

So I bought it.

I decided if I’m gonna own a grandpa car that I got from some shady hobo, I should learn a little something about auto mechanics.

I went to the local library to try and find some material on the thing, and found a common theme among the “do-it-yourself” books. They are depressing. The most POPULAR in this genre is the, “For Dummies” series. If you took every dummies book and stacked them, it would be higher than the twin towers... PUT TOGETHER.

They’ve got "Automotives for Dummies," "How to Spank Your Children for Dummies." When you pick up the book, you are blatantly telling yourself. I AM A DUMMY! That’s gotta do a number your self esteem after a few years. "I was going to mow the lawn today, but then I realized I'm just a big fat ugly DUMMY! I don't even know how to mow my own lawn! I'm reading this BOOK to try and help me, and it's just MAKING FUN OF ME!!!"

So I decided that I want to come up with a whole new line of books and just call them, “YOU SUCK!” No more beating around the bush.

“YOU SUCK, at life!" "YOU SUCK, at automotives!" "YOU SUCK, at brushing your teeth!” after I drive people to depression, I’ll make another line of self help books, “YOU SUCK, at killing yourself. Don’t even try…” First drive them to depression, and then make millions trying to fix them.

To be continued...

PS
New vid:



THREE doors: The one on the left is blank, the one in the middle has a male bathroom sign hanging on it, and the one on the right has a female bathroom sign.

The experiment was to see if people would go through their own specified gender-ed door out of sheer Social conformity. (Hey, you don't want people to think you're a girl if you're NOT!)

What's with the blood, Budd?

You know, somehow we always get on the topic of donating blood. Did you know that there are about 30 newsletters written here at JBUDD NEWS, and 3 of them are about donating blood! That’s 10%! That’s like TITHING! If anyone asks if JBUDD News pays tithing you say, “yes, in blood”
Anyway…

I don’t know WHY I want to get my blood out of me so bad, maybe it’s the high blood pressure. I always figured if someone has high blood pressure, shouldn’t the obvious remedy be to get some blood out of them? Relieve the pressure?


Anyway...
While I was having flash backs of past horror stories I heard the soothing word of one Bob Marley playing over the PA system:

“Don’t worry, about a thing, cuz every little thing, is gonna be alright!” I think they were playing that on purpose. They’re really just saying, “Don’t freak out, and flail your arms, cuz we don’t want your blood, on our lab coats!”

So the lady starts up again with the hocus pocus vein check… I think that I’m just hoping that magically my veins are gonna get bigger or something, like I’m in denial or something.

“I’ve got big veins! I can be cool too guys!”

For some reason this lady felt confident that she could do it. She stuck the needle in and it felt good. She started up the machine and we ran into problems. It wasn’t sucking enough blood… so she grabs the next labcoat lady next to her… and I’m starting to get dejavou as she starts twisting the needle around and making it HURT instead.

“THERE’S the problem, he’s not feeling any PAIN yet!”

SHE couldn’t get it, so finally they call MIKE over. At that point I’ve had enough. This is EXACTLY how the last one went and the third guy ALWAYS punctures the vein. So I threw in my towel.

But on the bright side… I still got the free t-shirt.

I found it a little funny. It reads, “TRUE Aggies bleed BLUE!” and it has some blue bull chasing a red U away… What are they trying to say? They’ve got freshman lined up on these beds trying to figure out where their loyalty belongs to. “TELL ME OH BLOOD WHICH SCHOOL I BELONG TO!!!” the blood starts pouring into the bag, the nurse yells out, “WE GOT ANOTHER RED ONE!” the kid yells, “NOOOO!” as the Student Body president wheels him out of the room and pushes him down the stairs. What do they plan on happening when they found the kid that bleeds blue?

“…YOUR KING!... we have found the true blooded Aggie!” everyone bows to the ground…

Don’t get me wrong, it’s cool to say you bleed blue, but when it’s a concrete situation where you are undoubtedly going to SEE the blood… We all know what color is REALLY gonna come out. You’re just gonna be crushing all the freshman’s dreams of ever becoming true Aggies.

“I’ll NEVER be good enough to be a true aggie!!!”

“Just give up and QUIT while you’re ahead BILLY, because you’re just gonna fail anyway… YOU YOU YOU YOU YOU SUCK!!!!”

The End.


(This next part is an old bit from a previous post that I don't want to lose.  So I'm putting it here instead.)

Physicals always scare me, cuz I never know what to expect…

“so… are you going to do the whole drop your pants thing or not… Just tell me now, so we can get the awkwardness out of the way…”

Its like dropping your date off at the doorstep, and there’s that awkward pause because both parties don’t know what the other ones expecting… he should just tell me at the beginning… get it out of the way. “You’re pants are staying on…” BAM done…

I figure that would have to be the most degrading job… checking guys for hernias… there’s no… COOL way to do it… you can never be SLY about it. I mean you’re going in for a serious violation! It’s a penalty! on the offense! 10 yards back man! Common! You cant just be like, “so how’s school going for you man?” then right before he answers, throw in the quick, “by the way can you drop the pants?” then continue the small talk… “OHHH… schools GREAAAT! … uh hem… ” it’s definitely a delicate time under that pressing situation. You monitor your responses very carefully, to avoid any 10 second violations…

“On a scale from 1-10 how do I stand?” I’ve always have wanted to throw that one out there… get some insights from him…
The only problem is if he said TEN, it definitely would make the rest of the interview awkward…

How many of you remember your first physical! You BET you do! That is a significant landmark in a boys life:

"I was Born, learned to walk, first day of school… got violated by some doctor… got married, had kids, died…"

Lucky for ME, I knew what was coming, but you know that SOME little Timmy wasn’t as informed.
We’ve been to the doctor many times prior to this! and everything was fine! they stick that light thing in your ear… YEP still got holes there! In my plasma physical, the guy shoved it up my NOSE! first time THAT’s ever happened to me… not sure what he was planning to see… just checking if I’m a regular picker or not. I guess that’s a requirement…

But eventually one of these physicals is gonna have a strange twist for poor little Timmy. He’s sitting on that little midget bed, laying on that scientifically engineered butcher paper that crumples at your every movement. Then little Timmy’s mom stands up and walks out of the room. He starts to panic. The door closes, and he turns his head abrasively to see the doctor eying him down with a grin… and the doctor turns to him and says: 

“Alrighty Timmy, your ears look fine… how bout we take off those pants of yours!”
Timmy’s world as he knows it, come crashing as if, to a boiling crater of lava…

The doctor’s office it’s kind of a scary thing. You’re in this small room… a bunch of strangers keep walking in and out. Checking the mighty clipboard of truth and justice… and giving suspicious glances at you while turning the paper intrusively, “REALLY… ew…” 

I’ve always wondered what they’re doing when they’re gone. Like there’s something seriously wrong with me, that they can’t just STAY and complete the exam…

“yeah… about that… I think I left something in my CAR!” 

You hear the tires squeal and look out the window to see the doctor driving away in his convertible laughing. Your clipboard papers are flying thru the air, eating the car’s dust…
It kind of scares me. Like I have something seriously wrong that they have no idea what it is. So they go out and talk with other doctors:

“he has what?”
“I think I’m going to be sick!”
They’re all in the back looking it up on WebMD.(tm)

I always thought it would be funny to play a joke on the doctor when he comes back in. He opens the door, and you’re standing on the table naked with the stethoscope…
“well… it seems to be… AAH!” drops his clip board
“oh, sorry… I was just… uh… never mind…” 

How to Fall into a Pot-hole #22

Recently people have been searching my site for the following question:
can i sue the city from injury from street pot hole?  

The answer: YES.  But like any other case, you need solid evidence that the injury wasn't your fault, and was the fault of their negligence.  One problem is you'd be suing for damages, or in other words, to pay for how much money the injury costed you.  (emotional distress/doctor bills/absence from work/damage to car/etc.)  In most cases that wouldn't be too much money, like in the following real life story:

****Story of the Week****
Dear JBUDD,

In my business law class we were discussing landlord's responsibilities to their tenants, and one of their responsibilities is to make repairs to anything that might cause injury… FOR example: The rain gutter right above my doorway is broken, which causes some sweet spillage, creating this decent puddle right outside my door. To add fire to the fuel, I live in LOGAN! and if hell was located here, it would indeed be frozen over. So this puddle is soon going to turn into a nice sheet of black ice… NOW all I need to do is slip on it, and break some sweet bone-age, and I can sue for damages! So I’ve been biding my time and waiting for that sweet payout. I just need a couple ace bandages, and I’ll be set! Now I better not catch any of you eyeing my puddle down… it’s MINE! NO BATTLE! I’d like to see a no battle hold up in court.
“prosecutor JBUDD claims that he ‘no battled’ it.”
(gasp from the jury)
“So NATURALY the money from the injury should go to HIM”
At this point a marching band will walk in playing “America the beautiful” and everyone will stand up, and salute me, with a tear trickling down each person’s cheek. Prosecutor WINS with the unanimous vote from the jury and audience… even the DEFENDANT who shant be named would have to agree…

ANYWAY #1>>>

So the story goes like so:
It was a dark night. A batman logo’ed spotlight shines frantically thru the air. Meanwhile on the street below sits an innocent little boy by the name of JBUDD. Little JBUDD just wanted to go play some ultimate Frisbee with his friends, so he ran across the street to go home and slip into something a little more comfortable. Being properly dressed, he’s about to make his way across the street into his friends apartment… something doesn’t seem right… The football stadium lights are blaring on his left. He watches as the cars pass, their headlights blaring in his eyes, just waiting for an opening to cross the wide street. He sees a small opening, so he goes to dash across the road, when suddenly he realizes that the ground is closer, and he’s not going anywhere. He hears two girls off in the distance gasp as he looks down, and finds that his leg is in a gimungous pot hole. The girls rush over to his assistance, and he jumps out, and examines his bleeding leg. The girls insisted that he come in and get bandaged up, but HE had an appointment with a Frisbee and could NOT be late. So he hurried over that lonesome road… THE END

I know what you’re all thinking, “wait… you fell into a pot hole?” well… YES! But you got to SEE the size of this thing:

That was no ordinary pot hole! that thing was like the grand canyon got together with the road outside my house, and had a baby. So the first thing I did was start ranting and raving about how the city was liable for that, and I should SUE them, and make them fix it, cuz that was right in the way of running across the road. I was telling the story to a lot of people after asked the question: “what happened to your leg” and this one girl said the same thing happened to her DAD! That little tweep was going to steal my law suit! But alas it was too late… a week later… I found THIS:

And about a month later, this is the desolation of a once great hole:

It lived great... and it died great... how many people fell victim of it's tyranny? we'll never know... but lets pay homage to the beast, with a moment of silence...

So the moral of this story is… You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take… yeah… that sounds about right…

Now I want to take a moment of silence for my poor leg skin. Turn on some sappy slow love song, and then slowly scan thru some photo’s from the past…

In OTHER news, we have another addition to the J-Films Family, it’s entitled: THE APARTMENT which is basically just a remake of the office. Enjoy:

The Dangers of Donating Plasma #19

Lately people have been asking me:

1) What is the bump on your arm after you donate plasma?
ANSWER: Don't worry about it. It just means your lab coat person messed up, and punctured your vein and you're bleeding internally... NO BIG DEAL! (it sounds bad, but really, don't worry about it.) In the following real life story you'll learn of MY experience with having the bump on my arm, so you'll know what to expect.

So I went to sell my sweet sweet plasma the other day… I don’t know WHAT it is… but those doctors just drink that stuff up…

To start the process, they pulled me into a little tiny room that could barely fit 2 people, and just eyed my luscious veins down, feeling it with his gloved hand. I’m not sure at ALL if this dude actually knows what he’s doing, but the white lab coat definitely gets my respect.

This guy could be just another shmo off the street, he looks about my age, but when he’s wearing the jacket… My life is in his hands… I don’t know what strenuous process he had to go thru to get to lab coat rank, but I’m pretty sure that anyone could get to lab coat status by the results of what happened to me… who is HE to judge my veins, when he walks imperfectly?

If any of you don’t know what donating plasma is, it’s kind of like prostitution… you sell part of your body for money. They suck your blood, take the plasma out, and then give it back to you for a price…

This idea intrigued me, partly because of the money, but mostly because of the name. PLASMA! That definitely seems like something you don’t want to miss. Sounds like something from a sci fi movie. Til now, I figured plasma was some radioactive orange goo that they extract out of my body for purposes of fueling a top secret government spaceship that would fly to Jupiter, but it turns out it just looks like apple cider. Someone must just really like the taste or something…

Now if you’re a first time pusher of plasma, they make you go thru this long difficult process of walking in little rooms, answering questions and getting tests done until FINALLY you get to the physical.

Physicals always scare me, cuz I never know what to expect…

“so… are you going to do the whole drop your pants thing or not… Just tell me now, so we can get the awkwardness out of the way…”

I definitely think that these doctors need better senses of humor. During my plasma physical, he got me all laid out on the mini bed, and told me to lift my shirt. And I was half way thru saying, “… I don’t think I should be lifting my shirt for another guy in this part of town,” when he started feeling my bare stomach.  I was just staring into his eyes.  His head was bent over, getting pretty close to mine… it all seemed too romantic for me… so… I LAUGHED! And he abruptly stopped feeling me, and said in a dry tone, 

“I sense that you’re a bit ticklish?” 
 
AWW common! That’s all you’ve got? You’re pressing into my stomach! We both know that it’s awkward, so… you can laugh too! I give you permission! Let’s just rejoice together, and I’ll even share with you those crackers you gave me at the beginning…

Anyway…

To conclude my story:
I got into the plasma room. It looked like a wounded soldier clinic or something. There’s just a bunch of guys laid out on these beds, next to these radio looking machines, squeezing this ball. So they hook me up… and I’m thinking… "OW!"

I tell the lab coat girl… “OW!” And she’s like, “OW?” so she tries moving the needle around to get rid of the ow… and she stops, and does that undercover code language whisper thing that doctors and nurses do… and some other nurse shows up, and unhooks me… then they do some more hush hush talk, and I get a DUDE finally. 

He must be pretty high up on the lab coat rank, and he does some voodoo vein check on my right arm, and stabs me there, and this one wasn’t as “OW” and the blood starts pumping. But they try pumping it back to see if it’ll go in, and I get this gnarly looking goo bump where the needle is… but all the lab coat folk acted like this was perfectly normal.  I asked,  “is that normal…” And he promptly said, "NO!"

How can he be so CALM I’m DYING!!! SAVE ME!
So they unhook me, and still don’t tell me anything, then give me 20 bucks and told me to leave…

And while I was walking out, I was thinking, huh… I just went in, waited a couple hours, and got paid for getting hurt! Next time, I should just request the baseball bat to the head to save time. Don’t worry about the needle thing… just injure me right here and now! They should just have a bunch of bats at the receptionists desk, so I don’t even have to get past there… walk in, get injured, take my money and leave… seems a LOT more efficient…

I’ve attached pictures of what my arm looked like

Initial bump that formed after I took off the bandage

The BUMP (My bicep isn't supposed to be that big...)

2 days after

5 days later (it's a lot darker in person)

Number 14

I’d like to welcome you all out to JBUDD NEWS 14th edition. Tomorrow I’ll probably be getting my mission call… so Reply to this email, and make a guess on where I’m going, if you’re the closest person, you will get TOP PRIZE!!!

So I just remembered a story… STORY TIME!!!!

So it’s the summer of ’06 and I’m with my good friend Skyler. We decided to go to taco bell, because HEY, who doesn’t like taco bell? I mean a half pound burrito for a buck! Now that’s VALUE! Anyway… So this particular time, the drive thru line was pretty enormous. So we had to wait for awhile trying to entertain each other. Skyler at least had the advantage of having a rear view mirror, in which he used to look at the girl in the car behind us. He said to me, “she’s pretty cute.” I couldn’t really see her myself. So skyler says to me, “I’ll give you 5 bucks if you go back there and get her phone number!” Now I thought that I was somewhat of a hunk of meat, so I was thinking…”no problem, I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”
I get out of the car, and as I’m walking up to her window, I’m thinking to myself, “she’s not that cute…” I’m trying to think of what I’m going to say, my mind is racing, but my body is CALM. I walk up to her all smoothly, “you must have played football because you’ve got a TIGHT END!” OWWW! Jk. I don’t know what I actually said… but it was pretty smooth as I recall. So I ask her, “can I have your number?” She points at her stomach and replies:
“I’m 6 months pregnant!”
…..
….. I’m standing in the middle of the road hitting on a pregnant lady…. Hahahahaha.
I bursted into laughter and said that this was going to make a great story, shook her hand and went to my car and laughed for like 5 minutes.
In the end I didn’t get her phone number.

ANYWAY

I think we’re all adult enough to admit that yes, we all liked backstreet boys at some point in our lives. Not in a homosexual way, but in a, “I could see me listening to this. Not like EVERY day, but maybe every OTHER day? I don’t know…” The songs really had some emotion. Some days I just felt like saying, girl, “QUIT PLAYING GAMES WITH MY HEART!” I always thought that song was WAY to calm for the lyrics. They lyrics are like a demand you’d hear at a gun point. I longed to hear nick just SCREAMING at the top of his lungs crying. “QUIT PLAYING GAMES @*&!#” he’d actually SAY “quit playing games at asterisk and exclamation point pound!” it could have been a number one JAM. But instead, it was only a number two.

The backstreet boys WERE cool. Emphasis on WERE. There was a moment when everyone liked them, but then some kid made fun of another kid for liking them. Someone made a personal attack on the body we call “the backstreet boys.” Someone decided it would be funny to call them “The backstreet GIRLS.” DISREGARDING the scientific evidence that they are actually indeed BOYS, starting a huge prejudism and injustice to all who liked them, JUST for the benefit of themselves. Whow wants to like a band people call “backstreet girls?” anyway? NOT ME! Girls can’t be backstreet! No one’s going to listen to that! Now all because of that first kid to make fun of them, all of a sudden the whole 4th grade wasn’t allowed to like them. Tyranny had taken over the playground. People were told to deny there boyband or suffer public humiliation. Anarchy had broken out, never to return… Hope was disappearing, the future seamed somewhat… bleak.

The same thing happened with Barney the dinosaur! Before kindergarten EVERY kid was watching Barney! Then first day of school, the same kid stands up and informs the whole class, “just to let you new comers know… now that we’re officially in public school, a few things need to go. #1 picking your nose… You either have to do it before or after school, or do it when no one is looking, or else roomers will spread about you faster then a wild fire. #2 Barney… is out! (gasp from the kids.) I’m sorry, I didn’t make the rules, But you WILL be made fun of from here on out for watching it in any forms.” And that’s what happened. Kids still watched it… but they watched it in secret. As if they were escaping Auschwitz. Then every once in awhile the witch hunt would begin and false accusations would be made.
“Timmy stole my shoe teacher!”
“well HE watches BARNEY!” (gasp from the class)
The teacher suddenly stops what she’s doing and has to step in and mediate this argument, “is it true you watch barney Ronald?”
The kid at this point is trembling, “no…” but alas, his knees are trembling and it is obvious that he’s lying.
“don’t make me repeat myself Ronald… did you watch barney or not!”
at this point little Ronald breaks down in tears as the teacher yells to the two biggest kids in the room. “TAKE HIM AWAY!”

That’s how it happened, as far as I remember. That’s how the backstreet boys were. But I’d have you guys know that I’ve had a dark secret since that time. And I am READY to take a stand against this Injustice. I JBUDD want to be in a boyband. It’s true. I mean, I’ve got the dance moves already… I’ve been practicing saying, “girl” as best I can. The only problem is… Is I don’t think I’m allowed to get married.

I’m pretty sure that being in a boy band automatically disqualifies you to ever being married. You never hear any boy band song talking about them actually GETTING the girl. That’s right, you know it’s true. All they sing about is how the girl is breaking there heart, or how much they want the girl. But NEVER do they actually SAY, “girl, I got you. You are my girl. We’re going to get married… and start a family!” In reality that makes sense. I mean who would want to listen to this.
“GIRL! Today I got home from work! And the house was kind of messy! And Dinner wasn’t made! So I threw my shoe thru the wall! You ran out crying! So I made a TV DINNER! And it was… kind of cold! So PLEASE COME BACK TO ME!!!” Married songs just don’t work. “I changed the kid’s diaper. And it really stunk. Then I did the dishes! And you thought that it was really cool. So we went to TACO BELL!!!! And You paid for it! and GIRL, that made my night!”

That one goes out to all my groupies on row five!!! Anyway. JBUDD OUT!!!

COMMENT>>>>>>
How do I unsubscribe from this? I have no clue how I got onto this list, or who you are, but I get way too many emails from you without having any clue who you are.

RESPONSE>>>>>>
Couldn’t take it eh? Couldn’t handle the news from some random kid that you have no idea who he is eh? Well cool. If anyone else is in this boat, just send me an email with “unsubscribe” into the subject line.
Woah! I just made a discovery. I think Gmail puts anyone who ever emailed you into your contacts or something. Because I deleted this guy off the list and now he’s there again. If anyone has a solution tell me.

The 12 Tribes of JBUDD

What a gorgeous day today was it not? Well to answer that question... NO, no it WASN'T! I was pissed.
Before I went to college, I prided myself on being able to wake up. As all of you know, during most of my high school life, I slept on the floor. I decided that the bed was too RESTRICTIVE. I mean, a bed is ultimately telling you where you CAN and CANT sleep. I think whoever invented the bed was just a failed attempt to try and take over the world. Like a pinky and the brain episode, in which not only did they fail to take over the world, but they failed to even come up with a logical way to do it!

Have you noticed in every show they have the smart witty guy, who develops all the ingeniously plotted out plan, and then they're hanging around some idiot, just to make sure they never succeed. If they're so smart, why don't they get some new friends? “I'm sorry Mr. Skrewball. But I'm going to have to let you go.” then Mr. Skrewball will start to cry. “I'm sorry Mr. Skrewball, I didn't mean it.” “why do we got to fight like this Mr. Smart?” “I don't know, I just get carried away sometimes... Lets never fight again.” then they embrace each other and they're gazes align, and the whole world seems to stop, and then one of them moves in...

>>>>>ANYWAY #1
The bed just TELLS you where to sleep. Back in the day before beds were made, it use to be, “I'm tired... oh look! Tree! I will go settle down near it. Become it's friend. And maybe if I'm lucky I will have rest there...”
I think the original plot was to get these foolish humans to depend so much on their bed-ical devices, and then they were going to activate the “bed-get-rid-of-er” machine, and then those foolish humans wouldn't know what to do. But LUCKILY James bond stopped Mr. Skrewball and Mr. Smart before they could do it! They almost killed him, but luckily they told him they're whole plan, and he miraculously escaped the jail cell with his watch that just HAPPENED to have a “jail-cell-getter-out-of-er” on it! And he KILLS Mr. Skrewball and Smart by thrusting them into their VERY OWN “bed-get-rid-of-er” machine, in which they both comBUST into flames. At which point bond turns and looks at the camera and says his famous punch line, “You're FIRED!” then he winks at the camera, and flies away into the sunset!

Scroll credits

>>>>>ANYWAY #2
So I'm laying on the floor, the clock strikes 6:00 the air is filled with tyranny and caos! The world as I know it is collapsing around me. WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!
THAT'S when I realize that It's morning and my alarm clock is going off.

What I want to know, is who invented that awful sound on the alarm? I'm a firm believer that the alarm clock sound is the worst possible sound that any object can possibly make! I want to know WHO figured out what that was? I figure it was a failed attempt to take over the world, by slowly making us go insane every morning by that awful sound. But luckily james bond saved us again... too.

Anway. I keep my alarm clock on the other side of the room, so I HAVE to get up. So I wake up, and I guess I'm a little EXTRA drowsy that morning. But I had to draw upon all my strength to crawl over the alarm. And for some reason I kept cauging, “GOLLUM! GOLLUM!” I was thinking MAN this is weird. But I turn my alarm off, and I guess this was a cue for my body to collapse. STOP
at this point I think to myself. I weigh about 170 pounds. My head is now accelerating at 8.92 meters/Second SQUARED. Or was it 8.29? PLAY

by this time, my head came in FULL contact with my desk. And I lay there... NAKED.

>>>>>ANWAY X 3 #1
man I don't even know where I was going with this. Well I get dressed, I'm thinking to myself, it was warm yesterday, I'm going to wear shorts. I put shorts on. I A-walk over to the door. Open it. And cried myself all the way to school.


OK I'm glad everyone could make it out to JBUDD NEWS 12th edition. It's really hard to think of something that rhymes with twelve. I kept thinking of words like, “mwelve! ... SHWELVE!!” by that point my roommate yelled at me.. “shut up! ... that's my moms name...”


OOOOH GEEZ!!! welcome. This is what I have to live with.... myself... (imagine that!) Luckily I like myself. Or else I would have evicted myself long ago. OK? ok. Here we go. Hold on to your breeches partner, because we're in for a story.

****STORY OF THE WEEK*****

So I'm trying to join the UVSC track team, as all of you know. I know what you're thinking, “but Jesse, hasn't track already started?” well yes... AND no... but mostly yes. But as one of the laws of Jesse states:
Persistence will help you go the distance. Which I need to tell you another story now:

So do you remember back in the day when I was hard, and drove a motorcycle? Well I do. Well the story goes like thus. My motorcycle was acting up and I couldn't start it electrically, SO that meant I had to push start it. So I push start it and I drive it over to 'parkway crossing' where my girl currently resided. I get there, just fine. We hang out, and it's like 12, and I leave. I start to run along side the motorcycle and throw it into second. IT WONT START. For about a half hour I run back and forth in this parking lot. Hope is diminishing about as fast as my strength is. Pain is starting to build in my pectoral muscles. This beast is not no easy no thing to not push. It weighs like 500 lbs. Or something. So all hope is lost in my eyes. I'm in the parking lot by myself. I decide to lay down. I gaze up into the stars in the sky. I look around, and find Sagittarius the archer, and Ophiuchus. The snake keeper. And I search desperately to find the Andromeda galaxy, and notice that orion is starting to raise. It's starting to get late. So I go into the lobby of this complex, buy a cherry coke and lay down on the couch and drink my despairs away. All is lost. My girl hates me, my dog died, and NOW THIS?
It's now 1:30 and I'm stuck at this stupid place. And then this phrase pops in my head:
“persistence will help you go the distance.”
and I get enough courage and jump back on the motorcycle giving it all the muscle I can. I PUSH AND PUSH. I THINK I CAN I THINK I CAN And throw it into 2nd..... NOTHING. Then I try ONE last time before I'm sleeping in the lobby. And it started. I was all excited and I'm drive down that familiar path down towards BYU. The wind is blowing my jacket in the wind. I feel like superman flying lewis lane up in the air. The air is freezing my face. I get a little bit farther and it dies. But then I realized that the choke was just out and I kept going. Dropping into the Provo valley, I take the curve, wind blowing in my hair, ears, eyes, and face. I let go of my motorcycle and as the Provo temple appears into my view, I scream at the top of my lungs to the empty roads, “OH YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT!!!” from the city of blinding lights. Arms in the air.... that's the closest to heaven that I've ever been.

Anyway persistence. So I'm starting to train to join, and I killed my legs this one day working out. They just kill. So me and my roommate go to Heritage Halls to go play with some losers OUR age, and it's valentine's day. So what do a bunch of single guys do? That's right, we played some strait up, hardcore, manball. If any of you are wondering what manball is, all you have to do is picture the manliest scruffiest man you know, and then breed it with a ball, and that's what you get. (nice visual I know)

SOOO. We play some killa' manball and we're walking back to our apartment. And I said quote: “I'm totally going to get a Charley horse tonight, I can feel it.” my calfs were killing, and were already starting to get tense.

We come to a point in the road where we decide we're going to J-walk. So what do you do when you J-Walk? RUN!
so we start to run and about my second step into my trot. My right leg cramps up. Like someone just STABBED a knife into it. And for those of you who have Charley horses, the first thing your body tries to do is point your toe, but you know that only makes it hurt WORSE. So my toe starts to point, but I quickly try to contract it with all my strength possible, but it wont contract. At this point, I'm ready to make the 'rebound' step with my left leg, so I try to catch myself with my left. BAM! Another knife in my leg. This immediately drops me to the ground. I'm collapsed in the road laying there. DEAD in the center. Trying to contract my legs, but they wont budge. They are frozen stiff and KILL like a motha. So my roomate who shant be named, is thinking I'm just being dumb like the movie, “the notebook” but soon realizes that I can't walk. He's yelling at me, trying to massage my calfs to make them loosen up, but that just makes it kill more, I try to stand up, but just fall over. And so I tell him to try to pull me across the street. At THIS point, a car is rounding the corner, and I'm in his lane. So I
have him pull me. And I like walk with my other hand. And kind of scooch my way to the other side. The car drives by, and assumes we are drunk or something. I don't even know WHAT I would think if I saw that site.
So all is calm now, except I still can't walk. So I have roommate step on my toes and just try and stretch them back, and about a minute later, I'm walking. It's ok, guys. I'm back to normal. So hold off on the bouquets of flowers, and the “get well soon” cards. But I did happen to get I photograph of the whole situation... so tell me what you guys think:
I really like how this picture brings out my biceps. And how the meet with my hands. And Ben is pulling me INTO the car... some friend HE is!

Well thru my travels this week I've made a few discoveries.

>>>>>DISCOVERY #1

I'M POOR!

This is all the food I had left! Like LITERALLY I had a box of macaroni, a jar of peanut butter,some herbal pills, and some lactose pills. So for dinner that night, I decided to put the pills and macaroni in the peanut butter and make a PASTE out of it, and ate it with a spoon.

>>>>>DISCOVERY #2
UVSC offers this course. I'll warn you now...
DO NOT OPEN THIS BOOK!

It was sitting on my desk in one of my classes.
K? k. QUICK STORY:
so in this class there's about 80 kids in it. And everyday the teacher has us go up and down the row and we all have to say our name... EVERY DAY! So me and my neighbor that day, decided that we're going to switch our names. Now you have to understand that this professor Is a complete stereotypical nut case. So it gets to me and I say, “Thomas Blesuchi!” then kid next to me says, “JESSE BUDD!” and he's about to move on to the next kid when he STOPS! “wait a minute.” he said with a tremor in his voice, “YOU'RE Jesse Budd, and YOU'RE Thomas Blesuchi!” I got 10 days lunch detention.

>>>>>DISCOVERY #3
Japanese sound funny. I was eating lunch with my dear friend colin, and out of the blue two japaneese girls come up to us and wonder if they can ask us a question. I thought it was a lame excuse to pick up on us... but it turned out they needed to survey people for their class. I'm pretty sure they knew like 20 words. And they kept laughing at everything I said... So I assumed there was something on my face... or possibly a “kick me” sign on my back... long story short, I gave them a book of Mormon!
(not true ;0)

THE END

P.P.S
I've only made one mistake in my life. I bought a pencil with an eraser on it.... what a waste of money.

Guys stay up till eleven to go to heaven. girls go to 7 because they're dumb. Hapy valentine's day

Well we're coming up on the great valentines day, just to remind all you losers without a gf/bf how lame you are. The most depressing holiday of the year. You know I went into the month of February thinking I was pretty cool. People liked me. But NO!! my hopes were DASHED with the appearance of St. Valentine's Day.

What I love about valentines day, is the support it gets with the elementary kids. Kids are GUNG HO for any holiday that involves more candy. These kids don't even know there's a difference between MALE, and FEMALE (except the girl has a dress on the bathroom sign.) But tac some candy on to it, and you've got yourself a holiday!!!

So I propose that we make a new holiday for JBUDD NEWS, in accordance with the mascot, “Steve.”

>>>>SIDE NOTE:
If you don't know what I'm talking to, in newsletter 4 I talk about how there should be just ONE mascot for ALL the holidays. And it should just be some guy named steve, that we can ALL relate to.

In creating this holiday, I had to search and ponder the true meaning of Steve. I wanted a holiday that EVERYONE can celebrate. Not JUST the JEWS... NOT just the CHRISTIANS. NOT JUST the lovers. But EVERYONE. And children from all around the globe will all know the true meaning behind it, not being MASKED by this vanity we call candy.

So the first step in celebrating this holiday, is KNOWING what to call it. So I nominate that the new holiday shall be called, “Goochmas!” and it will be celebrated on June 23. (my birthday)
The first thing one must do in celebrating “Goochmas” is to decorate of course! So to do so, you must either write the letter's “STEVE”, somewhere on your house. Or you can get a manican and put a sticker on it that says, “hello, my name is Steve.”
The spirit of Steve will go forth as kids from all over the lands have there parents BUY them a bag of candy. No more beating around the bush. We all know that if we had our kids WORK during the time they spent 'trick or treating' then they could BUY EONS more candy. This will also cut down the risk of going door to door, like our idiot brother holiday, “Halloween.” pshh. Some HOLIDAY! Kidnappings will decrease significantly. The old fashion razor blade in the caramel apple, will be exhausted. We all know it's totally old school anyway. BUT, I WILL allow carameled covered ONIONS from the parents. In a matter of fact, that will be a TRADITION!
All the kids in every home will wake up groggy on the morning of goochmas. Eyes half shut. They give the steve manican a little wave as they pass, and be SHOCKED in what they find under the traditional “goochmas tree” There will be PILES AND PILES of STEVE DOLLS. One for timmy, one for sue, and 3 for the jerk spoiled little brother that Steve always seems to like more. (But we all know that it's just mom and dad. ;) ) Then to their awe and dismay, they find the traditional carmeled onion in the “goochmas day stocking.” The kids look at it with delight in there eyes. Sparkling with tears that come from the acidic onions. Steve DID remember them! Steve IS real!

Then they BITE into the apple to the laughter of the parents as the kids find out that they aren't actually apples at all! No no no! They are onion covered RAZOR BLADES.



>>>>>ANYWAY #2

Kids don't understand what valentine's day is. I remember getting these cards from guys in my class that said, “be mine!” my first thought was, “a little demanding aren't we? Lets start off being friends FIRST, then we'll work from there, ok?” so one year I decided to save on production costs and produce my own cards! Instead of being suckered into the PREMADE cards that everyone else in the school already had. So after getting the hang of the system in kindergarten, I came prepared for first grade. I walked into class with my polarized sun glasses and my green 'cow' overalls. Ready to command and conquer all the women folk in the vicinity. with my homemade cards in hand I began to deal them out like a black jack dealer...

Well I just happened to keep one of the cards, so I scanned it in, Let's see what you guys think:





You know I was interested in knowing the origin of this crazy holiday, so I did a little bit of research to let 'jall know. This is strait from the New York Times. I just thought it was a cute story:

There was this hobo that used to walk up and down a street making suggestive comments to hot women as he passed. He used to say stuff such as:
you must be a rancher, because you've got some nice calf's!
Do you have a Library card, because I want to check you out!
Did you get a parking ticket! Because you are FINE!!!

So obviously this hobo received many slaps to his face, which turned his cheeks red and pink. Red on the left, and pink on the right. Which is where we get our color's for this holiday. Many hobo's started seeing his physical contact with the women folk, and started to join in. So this street became a street of love. A street full of hobo's trying to pick up on beautiful dames.
The street he walked up and down, was named, “valentines st.” which some people thought was, valentines street. But we all know that is was ACTUALLY “valentine's saint.” So we call it saint valentines day. And it's on February 14th because... it was... his birthday that day... yeah... that's it...
THE END

>>>>>ANYWAY#2
Well since it's the holiday of LOVE, I'm going to share with you some of my more recent wemen escapades.

As you should know from previous newsletters. I am the king at getting girls engaged. If I am ever with a girl, the very next guy they meet. They get engaged to. So I was currently up to 2 girls like this. Out of 2. So I thought it was ironic. Then I meet my 3rd girl.

Anyway, as of recent. I meet some prime meat in my ward. She just moved in at the semester. I see her at a dance, dance with her. We're a little more then a book of Mormon apart if you know what I mean. So during this week, I'm flirting with her, we're hanging out every night. And I'm teasing her because I know she wants to kiss me. So we're at the doorstep. I move in like I'm going in... and BAM, I open the door and push her inside. So the next night same situation. We're in position, I'm making fun of her, “I know you want it, what's your problem, you wuss just do it.” and she was like, “I don't care” so I say, ok. And open the door and push her in again. ANYWAY yada yada yada. 3 days later, I notice that she's not talking to me... Because apparently, she's engaged!!!! eff ya! GO ME!! I'M the official rebound guy!

So if any girl needs help getting married. Call me at 979-2578. My rates go as low as $30 a day. New york times called it, “Cheapest love since the 60's!”
Pick up your phone now, while supplies last!

>>>>>Anyway#3

So back to my Human Development class. We were learning about adoption. And some girl goes up in front of the class and tells us all about her experience of giving her child up for adoption. All the girls are going crazy asking all these questions, the 3 other guys and me are just sitting in the back falling asleep. You know, the usual.
So next class I sit next to this girl, I'm talking to her, we're having fun. Then all of a sudden, in the middle of class she grabs my paper I'm taking notes on, and writes the following. “if you get BORED tonight. Call me. 555-1212. heart Ashley.”
So of course I'm thinking the worst possible scenario. So long story short. I didn't call her. Call me a jerk if you must.

So back in the day's with girl number 2 to get engaged. So we go to classic skating. I'm Feeling good that I'm actually skating with a girl on the “snowball.” yelling at all the 6th grader's making fun of us. LIFE IS GOOD. SO I realize that the ball on my foot is REALLY hurting, from the rubbage of the skate. So what do I do? That's right, skate around for another hour. It's starts to hurt, so I go sit down on a bench next to this woman of african american decent, and take off my skate. I am pissed to find that my whole sock is SOAKED with BLOOD. Strait up BLOOD SOCK. That's what I had. The skate wore a whole through my SKIN. So the woman next to me sees it and starts up a conversation. She starts hitting on me. And eventually asks how old I am. I say “well madam, funny you should ask a strapping young man such as I. Me, and my huge bicepts are currently 18 years of age!” I say in my deep manly voice. And she busts up laughing.
“I'm here for my 6 year olds birthday party! ... I was going to ask if we could go out!”

fast forward a semester. I walk into human development for the first time. I don't recognize ANYONE. Except ONE person. Who happens to be that African American woman.
IRONIC.

So what's with the single parents hitting on me? I'M 18 DANG IT!!! I've got a MISSION to go on!!!

>>>>>ANYWAY #3

Let's do a quick story of the week, because MAN, it's really not that cool! Understand?

****Story of the week****

Lost my wallet on the bus. I'm freaking out in the morning. After I missed my first class, I finally borrow some money to get on the bus. And it just so HAPPENS to be the same bus driver that I lost my wallet with. Long story short. I have my wallet back...
THE END.

So that ends this portion. Now I'll open it up to some comments:

>>>>>SUCCESS STORY
Dear Bandit:
It has now been 46 days 1 hour 3 minutes and 52 seconds since my last
episode of sleepwalking. If you are not familiar with this, or have somehow
forgotten, during my finals week, a week of arduous physical, emotional
and mental expenditures to the extreme, I began a nightly regimen of
strange sleepwalking. Some nights i would pace the floors, dig through my
desk drawers, mutter responses at roommates, toss blakies, body-slam the
door, or even sleep study! It scared my room-mates rather quickly, and I
was often torn from my sleep to help me stop these crazy behaviors.
Eventually , (three days later) finals ended, and I moved home to vacate
the place for another room-mate to fill my place in N208.

It feels great to be free from this infirmity an astounding 46 days 1 hour
and 11 minutes; however, I am still in recovery. Sometimes, as I am told, I
will yell "Ben" in my sleep, or I will find myself waking in places I never
intended to fall asleep or wake-up. (In my closet, on my couch, in my
basement, on the floor in the hall, etc.) This is a true story form an
honest man. Take it as a joke, (a true one), but funny.
I love you dear!
Colin H. Freeman (Biscuit)

>>>>>REMARKS
Dear Biscuit
your success story is a complete UNDERSTATEMENT of what happened. Colin WAS insane. We have live footage, hard EVIDENCE of this event, It would be sweet to edit it and put it on google video. But I'de need his permission. Quick story:
So Colin's out of it. And me and my mysterious roommate try to talk to him. And he's starting to respond. And he's asleep. So tell we Gorden, and Gorden tells us a story of his uncle hypnotizing his sister in her sleep. SO we try it on Colin.
“hey colin, if you can hear me, lift your left leg”
leg lifts.
“good job. Ok Colin. When you go to leave for school this morning your going to go to the door, and get really thirsty, so you're going to open the door, and then turn around and get a drink of watter... If you heard me move your right leg”
leg moves.
“ok colin. You know that green shirt in your closet?”
leg moves
“you're going to wear that shirt tomorrow.”
leg moves.

SOOO. I'm eating my cheerios waiting for Colin to round the corner to see what shirt he's wearing. And behold... it IS the green shirt. So I start laughing. He starts asking, “WHAT?” all confused. So I'm like, “NOTHING!” so we go to leave out the door to school. All eyes in the apartment are on him to see what happens. He gets to the door and opens it and is outside. I think to myself. Dang it didn't work. ALL OF A SUDDEN he TURNS AROUND. All fast like. And he starts heading for the sink. I'm shaking my head and saying, NO WAY! And he drinks a nice big glass of water. And he's like, “what's your problem?”
and his side of the story is that he was really thirsty, and he was like, “I'll get a drink at school” then he stepped outside and all of sudden he thought, “NO! I'll get it NOW!”

Anyway, he was scary to sleep with. Me and my roommate who shant be named, were terrified, we would run out of the room in fear sometimes. He acted like the girl from the ring. We'd look over and he'd be sitting against the wall with a sheet over his head.

Once we found that we could get him to drum on his stomach and “jam out” with me. I'd drum something, and he'd copy and add a little. So we like played for like 5 minutes.
He tried drumming that fast when he was awake, and couldn't do it. Anyway...
Colin, you're a nut. NEXT!

>>>>>COMMENT:
your second grade mind came up with "a circular ball of possibility?!" what the crap did your parents feed you?!

>>>>>REMARKS:
well there WAS this one time, that I took a spoon out of the spoon drawer. walked right outside. and said to myself, "I'm going to eat this ground chocolate" and proceeded to eat mud. Maybe that's why...

She's a 10 boys! EH HOOO!

Isn't it a beautiful sight? It's been a rough journey, but we all managed to make it here tonight... to the beast we call JBUDD NEWS 10th edition. The road was a long one. It was like unto a stone cut out of the mountain without hands. Rolling down some hill of possibility, approaching speeds near mach 3, picking up more momentum. Growing larger and LARGER until it finally filled the whole earth. Team JBUDD. You deserve a round of applause.

Round of applause always confused the H out of me. As a kid I wasn't much into the whole HOMOPHONE garbage that teachers Tried to feed me. (what were they thinking) So that sentence was interpreted into several ways In my 2nd grade mind. Either a circular applause. (which was popularized by the colt known as cub scouts.) or my personal favorite. A round of a plause. Because plause is the root word to plausible. Which is sorta like possible. So in reality. A round of applause meant to me. A circular ball of possibility. Which is.... JBUDD NEWS?

>>>>ANYWAY #1
ok ok, I'm done trying to turn that around. MUCH TOO HEAVY

I was thinking of a good way to celebrate the big one oh. (10) So I recalled back to my childhood to what I did on MY 10th birthday, and I realized that, THATS when my parents told me about the birds and the bee's...
So I was about to tell everyone out there about the mystery's of these “birds and bee's,” and why they have any relevance to “S.” But instead I'm going to randomly kick someone off my newsletter:
wellthatexplainstherash27@yahoo.com you are hereby banished in honor of the tenth anniversary. Beautiful.

Speaking of crying. I sold my Motercycle. “Deathtrap” is what you liked to be called by. So this letter is going out to you little guy...

Story of the Week:
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning clashing in my pounding ear
drums that seemed to foretell something to me. DANGER. Resounded
in my head. Lightning clashed as two dark figures were standing at the
rainy doorway. I woke up. But quickly fell back asleep. Within a flash of lightning the figures in the door were in and out of site. Gone with one of our precious possessions. When our apartment awoke there was a knife stabbed into the table with a ransom note.
“You may have noticed that you are missing one of your family members... yes, thats right, your FAVORITE family member! Muahahaha!”
“OH NO! THE COUCH IS GONE” said Gorden.
“those B-words! They'll pay for this... THEY'LL PAY before the stars fall from the sky... they'll pay!!!” I said as I rent my shirt, mostly for effect. But even MORE mostly to show off my ripped pectorals and biceps. Almost immediately after my shirt ripping, 3 mighty fine specimens of girl ran up to my muscles and proceeded to rub baby oil all over them. I continued to read...
“In order to get that which you covet the most back. You must do the following at ward prayer”
Basically, Rustin had to say he was engaged at ward prayer to some girl in our ward. Even though they weren't. (if you ask me, I think she just likes him. ;)
We were concerned for our dear friend. All alone out in that lonely world. Locked behind the Chastity line of apartment S210. Girls playing “house” with it. Doing those weird things girls do... Putting makeup on it. Having tickle fights in there underwear in front of him.
We began to formulate a plan. Pencil shavings were flying, the clock was ticking ward prayer was coming up. We still needed to solidify our plan. Blueprints of the apartment were being drawn and redrawn. Repelling gear was being tested, and re-tested. Finally after tedious work we came up with the plan.
We went to ward prayer. I sat by one of the perpetrators. Flirted with the 26 year olds all around me. All was normal. The time came. Rustin announced he was engaged, to the laughter of everyone. Our whole apartment was there. S210 was locked. We went back to our apartment and waited with anticipation. And 2 minutes later to our delight came running in 5 distressed girl. CLINGING to my arm.
“The couch sir... the COUCH!!!”
“JUST SAY IT WOMAN WHAT IS IT!” as I slapped her.
“The couch... is STOLEN!” as she fainted to the floor.
I picked her back up and acted EXACTLY how I'd act if my couch had been stolen.
“what did you do with our couch!” “this isn't funny!” “I'm telling the manager!” “grow up!” “I can't believe you guys... It's all fun and games until someone loses a couch!”
They bought it....
They STILL bought it...
Lets back up.
Our apartments here at Campus Plaza, are completely Security proof. There is no breech of security seemingly possible... except ONE place...
Every apartment has a hole in the floor and ceiling leading to the apartments above and below it, located in the water heater closet. We contacted the people on third and 1st floor. They crawled thru. Grabbed the couch, and put it in our appartment. We had to take off the hinges of our door to put it in our room. Mission complete.
Meanwhile... We had our replacement couch that consisted of two chairs with a blanket over it. And yes, a girl tried to sit in between the two, and fell through.




They bought it. They felt SO bad. And why didn't they suspect us you ask? Well they did! But our acting was on that night. Maybe it was the dew in the air. But we were as convincing as a... thimble. Let this boil for a day.
In the meantime is when we wrote the song attached to this email, called “Corner Couch” Me and my mysterious roommate. Later that night the next day we were recording the video for the song. (which will soon be on google video, heads up) and we got the word from one of the girl, “what bugs me the most is that we got beat at our own game!” mission complete.

Well download the song. And I'll get that movie up as soon as asap.
>>>>FIN

Ok, I've got a few mini stories to share with you. JBUDD NEWS is evolving with the growth and expansion of its enterprises. As Bob Frankenburg once wrote:
****QUOTE****
Change- you can fight it and deny it, and die. You can go along with it and survive. OR you can CAUSE IT, and THRIVE.
And that's what I'm doing. CAUSING change.
So here are my new technological discoveries for this week:


****DISCOVERY #1****
JBUDD News recently made a trip hiking up Y mountain. On our way back, we thought it mandatory to take our shirts off to prove our manlyness.
And as most of you can tell... It worked. ;)
I now have 3 hairs on my chest!

(Thought you lady fans might like that.)


****DISCOVERY #2****

If JBUDD NEWS is copy and pasted and turned in as an Essay for English 1010. You will STILL get an A on the paper.
Thanks JBUDD NEWS!
I assign each of you to use
JBUDD NEWS in at least
ONE of your papers.







****DISCOVERY #3****
When Hiking Y mountain with your shirt off, you will lose hearing in your left ear. And if hearing happens to be your favorite sense, you will be driven to try every suggestion on how to fix your deafness. Which will result in your room mate shoving a flaming piece of paper in your ear trying to “melt” the earwax and have it sucked out. (ps. Didn't work. Still deaf) (actual Photo Below.)




****DISCOVERY #4****
If you're trying to ride the bus to the Provo Health Center. You will MISS the bus 850, and end up having to walk around outside for an hour and a half in 10 degree whether. Upon doing so, you will find that JVC is now repairing cars! This drawing is an almost EXACT REPLICA
Of the Original Building I saw. I was a BIT confused when I saw it. Lets see
If YOU guys notice anything special about it.

****DISCOVERY #6****
While paying your T-Mobile bill thru there automatic voice recording phone call thing. Avoid saying the words, “PAY ALL!!!” because by doing so you will not only pay for the month you're TRYING to pay for, but for the next months also. Which will result in you overdrawing your checking account! ;) good ol' T-Mobile. The best part is them not telling you how much you're actually paying before you confirm it. I actually called up T-Mobile and talked to John. Thats right fella's. THE JOHN. From T-Mobile. Ya the one who works in the call center? Never heard of him? Either had I.. I said to him, “john, I suggest that you guys change your recording to include how much you're paying before you confirm it. How does that deal sound?” you know what he said? No? Well he said this; “I can't do anything.” Disappointing I know. I bet you were EXPECTING something cool... but I say cool things on MY terms... not YOURS.

****DISCOVER #5****

I ROCK AT MONOPOLY
So I start the game. I can't get ANY Property... All I have is a train station and St. Charles. I Keep getting sent to Jail and I'm pissed. FINALLY I land on 2 other properties that just happened to be spots that OTHER people needed. So making clever bargains I end up with All the train stations. Two of the Purple spots. (go Riverton) and one of the RED spots. Just so happens that my brother needs the red I have, and I need the purple HE has. So we trade. And I instantly put 4 houses on the properties. Game over right there.... all the circled ones have hotels. basically what I'm saying is... I'm cool so give me some money.


>>>>>COMMENT:
Dear Jesse,

A couple of weeks ago i emailed you a picture of the gravesite of my
fish, Neil. I feel that it is now appropriate that I write a follow up
email, since new things have been revealed about the identity of my
cold blooded friends. First, I will include a little background
information. Two christmases ago I had a party at my house, and the
main event was a white elephant exchange. The rule was that you
couldn't spend over two dollars on a gift. So, for my white elephant,
I purchased 2 little fish. i even paid a whole dollar for them instead
of just like 20 cents, because they were the dewormed ones, not just
the feeder fish. They were high quality goldfish, or so i thought.
Well, our dear friend Matt Bury is the one that ended up winning the
coveted prize of the goldfish. He brought them up to school
in the frigid north (Logan), and then in june he left on his mission
and I was asked to babybsit neil and gill for 2 years until he
returned home. well... i got this email from matt bury today.

"So... Word is that Gill is really struggling now that Niel is gone.
By the latest reports he will likely join Niel any day now in the
oceans of Goldfish heaven. I have something to say to Loni. So... you
said you were getting some Neil and Gill number 2's. I don't really
know how to put this, but... they will actually be number 3's. The
original Niel and Gill died a few weeks after I got them and I was too
scared to tell you so I bought Niel and Gill number 2's and covered it
all up. I'm so sorry. But it's time I let you know. Please forgive
me."

My heart is broken. This is just like on Gilmore Girls when Rori and
Marty hide that they knew each other from Marty's new girlfriend Lucy!
I feel deceived.

Sincerely,
Loni Jo Pilcher

>>>>>REMARKS
great stuff. The IRONY, the TENSION. It will make a great story.
Here's the original picture.


Hmm... Ok, one last comment. I'll let this one in... THIS TIME

>>>>>COMMENT
I just felt the need to share this song because it was silly to me, but first I have to give some background information. The radio stations in St. George...they aren't so good. You have two country stations which aren't so bad, a very bad version of a FM 100 or Kozy, and then there are three stations which all sound a lot like 97.1 ZHT. Other than that, you're choices are pretty much crap. And since my Little Mermaid Cavelier does not have a cd player, I usually scan the radio trying to find something decent to listen too. There are days without even knowing it that I end up on the religious stations (there is this awesome song called 'Me and Jesus' by Stellar Kart that I've grown fond of). Anyway, back to the point of my story. Living in St. George is quite the adventure, for most people there is a huge culture shock. One thing I've noticed since I've lived down here is that just about everyone, i admit that sometimes includes me, likes to make fun of our neighbors in Colorado City, trust me when I say polygamist are always around. Everytime you go to Wal-Mart it's a guarantee that there will be a hold herd of them.
So there was one morning that I was on my way to school and seeing how it was the morning all that was on the radio were morning shows, so I stopped to listen to one of the shows and this man was talking about how he moved here about two years ago and how it was quite a change. Then he continued onto his story about how he made up a little game called, Count the Polygamist. Whenever he goes to Wal-Mart he counts to see how many are there. So he had his friend, who is in a band, write a song about his little game. I thought the song was pretty funny and wanted to pass it on. Click on the following link and listen to the 'Pligs at the Wal-Mart' song. Have a great day! I love you all!
http://www.myspace.com/endicott8

I'll talk to you again soon.

Your Friend,

JBUDD