Warning: Extreme Sketchiness Contained Within
(Steven forgot to post two days ago, and Megan forgot to post yesterday, so they both lose. Though, I expect more writing nonetheless.)
Hey Pi-Faces (get it, because pi = circumference/diameter which is the ratio of two circle measurements, geddit. geddit.),
"HEY I JUST METCHU, AND THIS IS CRAZY... BUT HERE'S MY NUMBER. SO CALL ME MAYBE."
Status/Casualty reports:
Hey Pi-Faces (get it, because pi = circumference/diameter which is the ratio of two circle measurements, geddit. geddit.),
I was looking at my posts recently and I realized you should all be complaining. Seriously, like what in the world Stevie, all your posts have been so serious recently. Bad! *slaps hand*
Looking at my blogging, I'm sickened by my seriousness. I miss the old happy-go-lucky writer inside of me. So here goes nothin'.
Friday we had a community building day. Overall it was pretty awesome, but I'm going to skip through all my racist comments, Psych references, and bad puns cutting straight to the bus ride before canoeing.
Get this, Friday I rode on a school bus for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE. YEAH! PRETTY EXCITING, AM I RIGHT? This is where all of you mutter "homeschooollerrr, cyber schoooler, antiisociiaal." Well, probably not the last one. If you're reading my blog, you probably know I'm anything but antisocial. Anyways, me and my bud Stephe (who is to be drank in responsible quantities) quickly scurried and claimed the last row. Yeah. We were that cool. We were swiftly joined by our fellow compatriot bus-rider Julia. She barely scrambled into the row across, next to an open bunny (middleschooler). Poor child. Oh, and I mean the bunny, not Julia. We then proceeded to be the coolest kids in the bus. How? Oh I think you know.
"HEY I JUST METCHU, AND THIS IS CRAZY... BUT HERE'S MY NUMBER. SO CALL ME MAYBE."
Yes. We sang Call Me Maybe, Wicked, and Maroon 5. You should have seen the middle schoolers stare. I feel bad for everyone who missed it. If you were on that bus and you didn't sing: SHAME ON YOU. SHAME ON YOUR ANCESTORS. SHAME ON YOUR ANCESTOR'S ANCESTORS HAIR.
I don't want to hear any excuses: "I can't sinnngg." "I didn't hear you." "I have laryngitis."
Simply. Not. Valid.
But not only did I have the opportunity to sing along in the back of a school bus... I got to mouth love expressions to one of my many bro's-in-mance Isaac Adams. He was driving behind us. It was delightful.
I made hearts with my hands and displayed my love to him through many a blown kiss and a text message that read: "I love you."
Don't worry, as my nephew said: "Uncle Stevie, you're really straight!"
... I think he meant tall when he said that. Haha. It's true nonetheless.
In any event, we had a good time in the back of the bus, and then proceeded to each lunch on a sketchy circly thingy. Do you know what I'm talking about? It's that round spinny thing that goes on playground to both hurt small children and make them throw-up all over the place. Apparently it's called a merry go round. but it lacks the horses. I disqualify this description. Here is a picture:
If you haven't ridden one, add that to your bucket list.
Except this one, was much more sketchy. It was covered in leaves (and therefore not used recently) as well as being very rusty. It must have been there for at least fifteen years, though I'd guess longer.
But the sketchiness doesn't end there. OH NO. It's much worse than that.
Imagine the embodiment of sketchiness. Kay. Now multiply it times ten. YEAH. SKETCHYYYY.
The place we went had a four way seesaw. Sounds pretty cool right? Well it was. If you want to DIE.
This particular peace of equipment goes four different directions. On the edge of each one is a seat... Or a place where a seat should be. One had an elephant, one had a lion, one had a plain seat, and one had a piece of metal that had a 100% chance of giving you tetanus. Bet you wish you hadn't dodged your shots now. The entire thing was held together in the center by an old, rusty, dirty circular piece. Moving your gaze lower, you took in the sketchiest part of the machine. Its fastening mechanism. The way in which these particular designers decided to make this machine was by fastening one end of a spring to the bar and the other end to the ground using a hinge. Three springs were barely hanging on, the fourth wasn't even attached at all. While riding this magnificent contraption, Ian pretty much called me fat. Becuz he's a meanie. Just kidding Ian... If you read my blog... You're still awesome. His real words went something like: "Stevie, I think we both know you weigh more than me."
Personally, I think it was just that his spring was broken... Yup, that was definitely it.
Moving on from Ian's nonexistent largeness and that wanna-be-merry-go-round's sketchiness, we then cleaned up sticks. Which really didn't make any sense to me. We picked up sticks off the ground and put them in bags, because apparently they are trash? Not sure what the deal was there. I think they were just extorting us to collect firewood for them. After this, we went canoeing.
Status/Casualty reports:
Hit 5 boats, multiple boats hit multiple times.
Pants and lower shirt soaked.
All boat races won.
I rode in a canoe with Stephe and Nick. And when I said rode, I mean rode. I laid back in the center while the two of them rowed. Sadly, we forgot a guitar, so together we sang numerous songs while the two men paddled us down the river. We did row-row-row-your-boat in 'rows' (geddit, instead of in rounds)... yeah that joke didn't get a good reception the first time I made it either. Anyways, we sang, paddled, got wet, crashed, and had an altogether good time. But by the end, I was pooped like a deck. All my jokes fell flat from thereon out, which left me saddened and in a state of disrepair. MUST. MAKE. PUNS. Anyway... What I'm trying to say here is it was a great time. And if you ever get to go canoeing, don't sit in the middle or your pants will be soaked. Cross my heart and hope to blog about your future embarassments.
Goodbye my little bloglets. (no hopling)
Sincerely,
Stephen Patric parris