I recieved an email today from Captain John of Scuba Tampa, a dive company that runs out of Florida. At any rate, Captain John praised my blogging, and that simple fact blew my mind. First of all, he is a man in the drivers seat of a company I've always wanted to own, Second of all, he is all the way in Florida. Thank You John, for your kind words, and hopefully I'll be a Captain John Employee sometime, living the Island life. His email inspired me, and really sparked my desire to live in the tropics even further. It is a flame now, blown by the winds of childhood memories, Jimmy Buffett songs, the sounds of bamboo wind chimes and waves crashing, and the feeling of the water rushing over me as I fly through it with fins on my feet. It is not a question of "if" but rather, a question of "when."
""Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean- roll, ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; man marks the earth with ruin- his control stops with the shore; upon the watery plain the wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain a shadow of man's ravage, save his own, when, for a moment like a drop of rain, he sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown." --Lord Byron--
In addition, the "Ski Boots" half of Sandals & Ski Boots, Dave created an amazing first draft of our future logo. Here it is:
Here or there? Now or then? Move or stay? Rich or poor? Love or lust? Travel or settle? Day job or Vampire life? Part time or Full?
A plethora of choices are ever present in my life now, due to my recent graduation. With pressure coming from all sides as to "What's next?" I find myself in the center of a swirl of options, yet I lack a clear direction or plan of attack. I am not worried. I think this lack of worry might worry those who worry about me even more. To those who worry, do not. I will take the risk of sounding arrogant, but I truly believe I am destined for something else, something bigger, something amazing. Someday I will stake my claim to this crazy life, plant the flag of Tyler Knott deep within the soil of some unclaimed territory, some unknown knowledge. I can see it, clear as day, I just don't know how to get there yet. So, I don't know if anyone who reads this will actually do it, but I'd appreciate it if anyone and everyone would leave comments or email me with their own personal views as to what they see me doing with my life, where they see me going, and what they think I'd love to do. I want to see how the people that know me best, and the people who are somewhat unfamiliar with me, picture me in the future. Please participate.
I am home. Apologies for my going M.I.A. Alas, here I am.
I noticed today, something that's always been in front of me, but never really analyzed. This "thing" is the ever popular "laugh track" that weaves itself throughout nearly all of the sitcoms on television. Think of this for a moment, you are sitting there in the comfort of your home, watching fake lives on television, and the option to laugh at the jokes, "aaaaahhhhh" at the touching moments, and react to whatever else goes on, is stolen. While you watch, a fake and unseen audience is watching the show in front of you, dictating the laughter that they expect to get out of you. Jokes that are not funny, moments that are not particularly touching, and situations that are poorly written all recieve the same amount of attention by these fake audiences. The choice is being made for us, and a large majority of the time we laugh along with this psuedo-audience. I truly wonder how often we'd laugh if there were no laugh track, would sitcoms be funny, and even more importantly, would sitcoms be popular? It just strikes me as very odd that in a society in which customizeability, independence, and freedom of thought are so chiefly valued, (at least they claim to be) we are told when to laugh, and when to cry.
At any rate, I want to get hired to be a laugh track laugher. I've noticed that there are always one or two laughs that stick out the most and are either the loudest, the most obnoxious, or the last laughing laugh. If I get hired, rest assured, this laugher will be me.
I am one grain of sand, swept up and stolen by the tides of time. I am swirled and swallowed, sliding back to sea.
Time caught me this week. Time snuck up behind me, and silently slapped me in the face. In two days I will complete the largest hurdle in my life thus far, School. Since I was 4-years-old school has been my reality, and now I sit here, nearly 18 years later, about to close the door to the single largest memory maker in my life to this point. I have never been a good student; I am an intelligent person, but I have never been a good student. I was voted “Class Clown” of my High School, and I was told I was the only student in my grade to even receive a nomination; a monopoly of the Clown. When I reminisce, my mind is filled with memories not of academics and learning, but with pranks and sporting events, girls and more girls, friendships and the slow drifting that divides me from so many I used to know. Where does time go when it hides itself away? Minutes like hours, days like years, it all eludes me now. I close my eyes and find myself confused when I open them again to this time and place.
Four years ago feels like yesterday and I am bewildered as to how many years will pass that feel just like tomorrow. My college years passed me by in a blink and after graduation on Saturday I will have a bachelor’s degree. I am a man now. Inside me rests this desire that I can not fully explain, this desire to run away, see the world, feel life pulse through my veins. I long to breathe foreign air, smell an ocean my feet have never been in, and see the world through fresh eyes. Something is beating inside me, rhythmically reminding me that I am alive, but I have yet to really start living. I have chosen to not walk through the ceremony Saturday, partly due to the fact that I really have never liked school, EVER; another huge reason is the simple fact that I do not like the finality of the whole ceremony. I do not like the way that it separates my life into segments, a segment for elementary school, another for middle; a large segment for my High School days, finalized by a graduation ceremony, and now college. I do not want another “endpoint” in which I have to begin again as soon as it is completed and in the past. I would much rather transition from this stage of my life into the next, seamlessly incorporating all of the lessons I have learned that shape who I am today. For this, I am ready.
I am one grain of sand, separated from the shore. I am shaken, swiftly leaving the beach sands; I am not ready to sink to the sea floor, I am not ready to settle.
Just wanted to blog to let everyone know that I added more Pictures to my Photo Gallery. I'd appreciate it if anyone and everyone checked them out! The new ones are from Keep it Wild through Olympus Lock so I hope they are well recieved. Not too bad of focus for a digital camera if I do say so myself. I've been experimenting seeing the world from a different angle, and lately that angle has just been extreme close up. Tiny objects can be pretty amazing when you get close enough.
With slow awkward steps she shuffled towards me; the largest woman I've ever seen in real life. As she opened the door I noticed that this poor woman had to be carrying at least 500 pounds, and this is a conservative estimate. The weight was unevenly distributed, with at least 60% of it falling below her waistline, causing her stomach and thighs to melt into one and sag nearly to the ground. When I first saw her, all I felt was compassion for her as I am completely unable to imagine the hardships she must face: getting into her car, walking down the street, trying to find clothes that fit, or dating. Then I remembered where I was, and the compassion faded away. The door she was opening, was the door to McDonald's. As Natalia and I were walking in, she was walking out; a newspaper in one hand, a gigantic bag filled to the brim with fresh fast-food in the other. As I turned around to watch her leave, I noticed she was alone in her car, and the food in that over-stuffed bag was most likely all for her. When I saw this, I could no longer feel sorry for her, no longer try to put myself in her slow shuffling shoes, as she made it impossible. Why would a woman this large, with a weight problem this out-of-control be dining at McDonald's? I understand that obesity is a disease that plagues a great many American's, (America is up in the top of the list for the most obese nations worldwide) and I understand that in a large number of cases this obesity is merely a symptom of a much larger infliction suffered by the person, I understand this in these cases. The sad fact of the matter is, these cases are not the majority. The true majority of obese people in the United States are obese on their own accord, do to improper diet, a complete lack of exercise, and often an apathetic attitude towards any type of remedy. For the people who are obese due to medical conditions, metabolisms that simply will not function properly, or other conditions that steal the control out of their hands, I feel terribly. It is a sad thing that people have to go through their lives dealing with such a hazard; heart failure and a slew of other medical catastrophes seem to come hand-in-hand with obesity and it is awful that some people have to fight these symptoms. For the others, I do not feel badly at all. Our nation has paved the way for this to happen, everyday the fridge gets closer, food keeps longer, fast food joints are open later, the remote's batteries work better. We have become a nation in which it is cheaper to be fat, uneducated and lazy. Why spend $10 for fat-free meals and waste your paycheck on fresh ingrediants that go bad in 3 days, when that same $10 will get you FIVE full meals on the McDonald's dollar menu? Why go for an hour long run when you can drive to the spa for an hour long lipsuction, a little face lift, or a bo-Toxic injection into your forehead? Elevators murdered staircases, computers massacred hard labor, televised sports replaced actually playing them, and owning a car made us all forget how to walk. The obesity rates in nearly every state in this country are on the rise, and in the decade preceding the 21st century the percent of increase was an appauling average of around 45%. This problem is way beyond being fat, eating too much, or exercising too little; this 'weight problem' is a direct indication of the state of affairs that our nation, and most of the industrialized world is caught up in. It seems to me that a large majority have given up, acquiesced to a false belief that we can not change, that our problems are simply something or someone else's fault. In a sense America is that woman I saw today, taking slow calculated steps out of the front door of McDonald's, a newspaper in one hand, a bag full of vices in the other...completely worn out by the time she reached the car.
This is Finals Week, my Final Finals Week. I am ready to be done, ready to move on.
I just wanted to let everyone know that I added some new photos to my Photo Gallery and I really would love it if everyone would check them out. The newly added pics are entitled: Dew Drops, Dandelion, Green Faucet, BBQ Rust, and Faucet #2. I'd appreciate any comments, praise, criticisms, or anything else you'd like to say.
Finally, I'd like to congratulate Jeremy Giambi and Trot Nixon for the two worst displays of fielding I have ever seen in Baseball. Did anyone happen to see Giambi's throw to the short-stop after he made his huge error? The ball actually bounced once before finishing it's 10 foot flight. Wow.
I came to a resolution today, I am an uninspired dresser. I do not know why I am even thinking about the way I dress, it is a very "un-guy" thing to do, but I really do not care. I have always had good style, a keen fashion sense, and an understanding of what colors do, and do not go together; I realized today however, that I dress uninspired. I am tired of wearing graphic t's, long sleeve logo t-shirts and random sweatshirts. I do not think I ever look "bad" with the way I dress, but I feel like I am dressing much below my age, I feel like I come across like a high school or middle school student. I am tired of this. I have never and will never agree with the term "The clothes make the man..." but today I realized that there are some truths to the phrase. I am ready to move onto the next stage of my life, and graduation is playing a large role in this. I think today I fully realized that I need to start coming across as a 21, nearly 22-year-old Man, no longer a 17 year old kid working in the mall or something. So, I have concluded that to acheive this, donations would greatly aid in my efforts. hahaha. So feel free to mail me money, I won't mind a bit.
Off topic, but I have to say that one of the coolest cinematic effects I can think of in the past 50 years, is in the movie "Apocalypse Now." The scene in which the men have just left the surfing beach and are all in the jungle off the boat, the entire scene with the tiger, it is absolutely amazing. The whole picture, actors included, is in a washed out blue, a dawn-like color with the feeling of the moments right before sunrise. All around the men, the jungle is swallowing in on them, and littered about are vibrantly colored green leaves, directly contrasting the deep faded blue. It is not all the leaves, it is not all the green and yellow things in the frame, just some, and the effect is amazing. I am unclear of the intended symbolism, but it really looks amazing, and adds a depth to the scenes. Everyone should check it out.
I have this friend named David Huff, he is quite the character. Anyways, for some random reason today I thought of him, and therefore I decided to share a memory about him. As I reflect back on elementary school, it does not feel altogether real; it feels like a dream I just woke up from, or a movie I just watched, but not real. The characters in this stage in my life are vibrant and cartoonized, and the memories of these kids litters my brain like a busy comic book. People like Shane Mitchell, the kid who only wore denim and used to get the crap kicked out of him at dodge ball, and occasionally "barred" by Gregory and myself (don't ask); McKenzie Hunter, the girl next door, my best friend from when I was old enough to understand friendship, and the girl in my life that feels like my youth; Bjor Johnson, the crazy-mullet wearing-bull in a china shop kid in the class who was the poster child for A.D.H.D...he even had a younger brother that played a role, named Johann, who had a strange condition that only few know about hahahaha; Dylan Schuller, the direct representation of Mad Magazine in a child; Adam Fauhl, hands down the nicest kid you'll ever meet...Adam has Tourette's Syndrome, and I will never forget how every year (we were Always in the same class) he had to stand up and give a speech to the class at the beginning of the year, explaining how he would often hit himself, and possibly yell out uncontrollably; Greg Dorrington, the man behind the legends, my oldest and best friend in the world, we've been through it all, laughed some, cried some, sang some, and got one arm tan, some; and finally David Huff. The title of this blog is "P.H." and that title comes from the hat that he always used to wear, his Little League hat that let everyone know he was on the Pizza Hut sponsored team. David was a kid who really loved pickles. He loved them to the point of obsession and I very distinctly remember going to the lunch table in elementary school and he would have huge quantities of pickles in his lunch box, grown by his Mom; to top off this oddity, he would bring a Thermos everyday of Pickle Juice to drink as his beverage. I am not even kidding. His delerium ran so deep that David became convinced that the P.H. on his hat did not mean Pizza Hut, rather it was somehow different than the 20 other hats on his team, and meant "Pickle Huff." Pickle Huff. Need I say more? The people that fill my mind from my youth are amazing, and I really think that if we don't visit these thoughts and memories often they start to become faded, eventually turning into something you think happened, but maybe to someone else. I never want to lose the images, the names, the voices and the memories that shaped my life at so young an age.
On a seperate note, the guy who hosts "Street Smarts" is actually a pretty funny little bugger.
I recieved an email from Greg Dorrington, the man behind the myth, concerning my blog entitled "Memories of Bill Roberts." I will now add one CRUCIAL memory that I omitted, as well as clear up the exactities (I just made that word up) of the quote by the man whose leg I hit with my amazing drive on Hole 1. First and foremost, the funniest memory, that I am slapping myself for forgetting, involves Kurt, his Jeep, and a plethora of sounds. Here is what happened: We were driving to the aforementioned Dairy Queen that we frequented, when all of a sudden we heard this loud THUD, followed by the sounds of a dog yelping uncontrollably. All of us in the car were shocked and said "Kurt, you just hit a DOG!" Now I am a little fuzzy here, so Greg if you could comment if I am wrong, but I am fairly sure Kurt denied the fact that he hit a dog, and tried to pass off the sounds as inconsequential, not having anything to do with an animal. We were all shocked and amazed, but Kurt would not turn around. If this wasn't funny/morbid enough, we continued the trek onto Dairy Queen, and while in the drive-thru another funny thing happened. You see, one of the things that Kurt recieved the largest amount of crap for, was the quality of his Jeep. We all made jokes at the incredibly LOUD idle that the car had, and how much it sounded like it was on its last leg. He always passed this off as just our opinion, but when we pulled into the drive-thru to give our order Kurt had to keep shouting the orders. We were all laughing hysterically until the woman finally said, "SIR!! SIR! Could you PLEASE turn your car off, I can not hear you, your engine is too loud!" hahaha. After this, the whole car was laughing so hard that we couldn't control ourselves, and I am almost positive that it was the same day, Kurt got so flustered by this whole ordeal, that he managed to high center his Jeep temporarily on the concrete divider in the Drive-Thru, and then to unstick himself, he gunned it. When he gunned it, the Jeep went flying off the side of the curb and into the 3 Lane street, almost killing us all. You have no idea how hard I am laughing.
Secondly, the man I hit with the golf ball. The heart of his quote was this: "If you come one step closer, I'll Kick Your Ass All Over This Course!!! Now that I remember the exact quote, the memory is so much more vivid, and so much funnier. Thank You GD.
On this day in 1978 my big sister Rian Marie was born. I just wanted to take a second to say Happy Birthday and tell her how amazing of a sister she's always been to me. She's been hard on me at times, but it has ALWAYS been for my best interest, and it has helped to shape me into who I am today. Thank You Rian, for everything...I hope you have an Amazing Birthday, and I can not wait to see you soon. I love you bud. Everyone should drop her an Email and wish her a happy day.
Said Stacy Smith after a long hug. I haven't seen her for nearly 2 years, and the first thing she says is, "You look so old." It was then that I realized that time really has been passing these past few years. How easy and how deceiving it is to stay in one place for three years, go to the same school, go (or do not go) to classes in the same classrooms, listen to the same boring rhetoric. After 3 years of this, the memories of the University of Montana begin to bend, and blur into one. Sometimes it takes a voice, a face, a person, a chance encounter, to force you to remember that the whole "life" you spent trapped in the microcosm that is College, time is still spinning around you, circling back, and spinning again. I truly believe that more people than any of us would even imagine are far too caught up in this swirl, and forget what really matters. The more time that passes that I use AOL and MSN Messenger, the more I see this to be true. Everyday I speak to people and the first things out of their "mouths" is "How are you?" Today I wondered, and then asked a friend really how they were. The strange thing is, when asked "Really, how are you doing?" most people are so taken aback that someone actually wants to know, that they do not know how to immediately answer. We are a culture that stopped caring, and the worst of it is, we stopped caring about each other. When was this evil and apathy born? Where does it come from? What is it that made us all stop caring about anything other than the quest for the almighty dollar, the "next big thing," fast women, faster cars, and the fastest way to die with the most toys. I am beyond ready to pack up, and move somewhere that has never heard of MTV, 50 Cent, or Pizza Hut. Call me idealistic, but I know there is a place out there that feels like home to me, I know there are places out there that are inhabited by people that still care. Do not get me wrong, all the people that I talk to on AIM and MSN are my friends, my close friends, but I just think in general, we all ask "How are you" far too often and do not stop to actually listen to the response. We are all trying so hard to be something other than ourselves, something better or smarter, richer or more famous that we forget to Stop, and be ourselves. We forget to stop, and allow others to do the same.
"Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly." --St. Francis de Sales--
First and foremost, check out the new banner area where my Blog Title is. My friend Dave helped me spruce it up, and make it a lot more "me," whatever "me" is. Everyone should go check his blog out too, he's got a lot to say, and knows how to say it.
Now, on to the memories. I remember getting out of school early, and loading the clubs into Kurt's beat up 2-door Jeep. I remember driving to Dairy Queen and taking turns buying everyone Misty Freezies. I remember Greg, Geoff and myself all taking turns getting in trouble by Kurt for scratching obscenities into the decaying interior of that Jeep. I remember me driving the golf cart full speed backwards down the first hole and looking over and seeing the Ranger in his little cart, driving forwards and looking over at Greg and I and just shaking his head...how I explained that one is still beyond me. I recall hitting a guy for the first time ever on Hole 1. He was in our fairway and I hit him with a 3 bouncer to the leg. As Greg and I approached him, he got so mad that he said: "You son of a bitch, don't come one step closer, I'll kill you..." and held his club up as proof...he then proceeded to hit my ball that had hit him very far out of bounds. How mature. I remember on wet days riding in the cart and going down the hill of Hole 6 and hitting the brakes, spinning 360's all the way down. I distinctly remember rounding the turn going to that hole too fast with too many people hanging on, and having 3 of the 4 passengers fall off, along with their clubs. I remember going into the "19th Hole" after a round of 9 and getting beef jerky and a drink. I remember "JACKIE GARTZKA!!!!!!!" I remember winning a lot of free Pepsi during the lessons Greg, Kurt and I took, by sinking long putts. I will always remember Greg teaching me to golf. I can't stop remembering the fact that all through high school, Kurt used old-school wooden clubs, Greg's grandmoms, and all things considered, played damn well with them. I remember the laughter on the driving range. I remember playing with my Dad and standing in awe as he hit his drives, and laughing hysterically with Greg as he hit his second shot on the Par 5 9th, about 200 yards over the green, and into the parking lot...for those of you familiar, that is a LONG way. I remember the wedding golf tournament and a guy from across the course yelling "It's a lot easier to hit the ball if you put your purse down!" at my Dad after his drive. He was upset until he realized that it was our family friend. I remember all of us using range balls we stole on every hole that had water, "just in case." I recall all of the golf tryouts that we'd all go through for free golf, and then really hope we didn't make the team, so we didn't have to go to the tourneys. I remember the biting cold, and the exhausting heat, and all the temps and weather in between, and us still golfing. I remember it all so well.
I have so many memories of golfing with my friends and family, I wouldn't trade them for anything. Alas, "No man is rich enough to buy back his past."--Oscar Wilde--
Just wanted to drop a quick blog to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my brother-in-law Reid Oliver. Everyone should email him and wish him a Happy Birthday, who cares if you know him or not. Anyways, thank you for being such a great friend and brother Reid. I hope you have an amazing day.
I have this theory that all of life is based on energy, and this energy flows through everything and ties it all together. Actions, reactions, life, death, progress, productivity, all these things are nothing more than the effects that energy has on us all. I think that the purpose of these lives we lead is to simply divide up, and put this energy to use. For instance, learning a new language uses up a portion of this energy allotted to us, and while that energy is being used, there is less of a proportion of energy to be applied to other aspects of our lives. The tricky part is finding what is the proper division of energy is for each person, and deciding which things we deem worthy of using their precious energy resource on. When I say "energy" in this case, I am not referring to physical energy, or what the human body is capable of completing, rather it is much more of an unseen force, a 'jet stream' of conciousness that meanders through every living thing, from human beings, to trees, to God. I think that only certain few people are really tapped in and attuned to this force that flows through life, and those who do are in constant awe. Whitman knew, Gandhi, Buddha, Emerson, Bono, Thoreau, and Marcus Aurelius all know. I truly believe that I know. I do not say this to sound egotistical, arrogant, or cocky, but I honestly believe I know. When one sees this 'interconnectedness' that exists all around them, everything becomes a miracle, and the mundane, the ordinary, the everyday becomes miraculous, becomes so much more vibrant. I know a few people who know this, and I can see it in them too, it is breathtakingly obvious, we are the ones who observe our world with a careful eye, comment on it with an air of freshness, and fall in love with the moments that constitute our day. Some who read this will not understand a thing I am saying, and shake their heads with disagreement or confusion; others, those who see the world a little differently, (you know who you are) will smile with silent understanding, and laugh inside themselves.
I got a phone call today from a lady from Taiwan looking for an apartment, I tell you people from Taiwan are extremely difficult to understand. She kept asking things over and over again, worded very strangely and completely out of context for renting an apartment. After about five minutes of chatting I seriously felt more like her counselor than her soon to be sub-leaser. At any rate, I had a strong realization during our conversation--laughter is amazing. No matter how difficult I found it to understand what this woman was saying, everytime she laughed, be it nervous laughter, or just genuine humor at the whole situation, I understood her completely and I could read her like a storybook. I realized tonight that laughter has no accent, neither knows nor needs language, and transcends any and all cultural barriers. Have you ever noticed, that no matter what someone is saying, and no matter what language they are saying it in, their laugh makes total sense, has no reflection of their ethnicity, and says more about the person than anything their words ever could? After today, I will listen a lot closer to the sound of everyone's laughter.
Tonight, my best homie Natalia and I decided it'd be a great idea to whip up a sweet batch of Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies, seeing as though we have a Costco sized bag of chips. Anyway, we did a double batch, which required to double the ingredients, obviously, and an hour and a half later, BAM, we've got 75 healthy sized cookies. Knowing her, I have a hard time thinking they will last a long time, but they really made my apartment smell outstanding. Here is a tip for all you guys out there wanting to make a sweet batch of cookies: Add a little extra flour than it says to, it helps immensely to neutralize the greasiness that can often accompany over-softened butter, or tempermental egg whites. Do this, and your cookies will turn out fluffy, rich, and worthy of consumption. Trust me.
Tonight while I was checking my email I heard a huge commotion outside my window. A free source of entertainment is the role that my neighbors play on the weekends randomly, as fights and cops can often be the outcome of too much alcohol. Anyway, tonight I rushed to the window, opened it completely and let the sounds of drunken debauchery blow through my screen. What I heard prompted me to run outside and watch the action live and upclose. When I got there, here was what I encountered, a brief list: 1 naked man running around in the middle of the street; 2 people physically fighting, one a man, the other a woman; That 1 guy getting his butt whooped by that 1 girl; 14 other people watching this all go down and laughing hysterically, making sure the guy never punched the girl; 1 Tyler Knott Gregson standing in sandals and wondering what they were fighting about; 8 cop cars that rolled up onto the scene of the crimes. Anyways after about 2 minutes of this fighting, the cops showed up and everyone scattered like a bomb had gone off. I sauntered back to my apartment, pleased I had witnessed something so funny.
The fight brings up an interesting problem in the life of every male, that I believe needs analyzing. What exactly is a guy to do in this sort of situation? My Southern Roots, and proper upbringing teach me that no matter what, You NEVER Hit a woman, ever. I have never truly hit a woman, but I am beginning to wonder at what point do exceptions to this rule be made. Is it ok if that woman is bigger and stronger than you? Is it ok if she is really kicking your butt and you have to fight back to defend yourself? I really think that if either of these situations were present, I'd drop my proper upbringing, forget the Southern roots, and seriously go medieval on her.
I am officially adding another wish to my Wish List...I wish that I never, ever, ever, had to shave my face again. I do not care what I try, be it waiting longer between shavings, waiting less, using certain creams, gels, razors, heat or cold, Nothing makes it less painful for me. My face skin is not the leather face Clint Eastwood-cowboy variety, you can not light a match off my cheek, and never will I be compared to sandpaper, or a cat's tongue. I have baby skin apparently, and everytime I shave that skin is annoyed beyond belief. I believe that if this wish were to come true for every man, every man would be extremely happy, with the small exception of men who love to shave or men who love having facial hair. I suppose they'd love it too if they could stop shaving at the point in which their facial hair was satisfactory to them. At any rate, this is an additional wish tossed onto my Wish List.
Furthermore, I highly endorse Colgate Simply White Night Gel. I know the commercial with that girl trying to talk with her mouth open might lead you astray, but rest assured, I have been using it and it works freaking amazingly. I don't know how many shades it's worked or whatever, but I can clearly see a difference. It takes only 14 days or something to work, and you do it once at night before bed, then go to sleep. How cool is that? Once again, Very cool my friends, Very Cool.
I just thought I'd share this REALLY good deal with everyone. If you sign up for this, you get 5 DVD's for .49cents each, and then you only have to buy 3 DVD's within the next 4 years. It sounds like a big committment, but all their DVD's are only $19.95, much less than in stores. Anyways, the deal is really a good one, and I'm in the club right now. So for anyone interested, Email Me and I'll let you in on some secrets about it. Trust me, it's worth it, and you can get a lot of really great movies for only .49cents. Enjoy!
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