Tuesday, August 14, 2012

3 Hours Early

I'm engaged! I have been for awhile now (1 month + 1 week). Her name is Ellen and she writes things here, http://elleohellen.blogspot.com/. The point is not only that I'm an obvious expert at relationships and such, but that I'm also almost a grown up.

About six hours ago I fell asleep watching Lonesome Dove, don't be judging it's an excellent film with an all-star cast! At about four in the AM, I woke up because I had to pee, I'm human, too. Usually when I wake up to pee I pull a Larry David, which is to not turn on any lights and just find my way to the toilet, sit on the seat and have at it.You see, if you keep all the lights off, you never fully wake up and are therefore so much closer to returning to your happy slumber.

This time I turned on the lights, and as a result, am still awake an hour later. I didn't waste this time, though. Oh no. You see Ellen just moved in to our future first home and does not yet have some basic needs. Such as television, internet, utility bills in my name or air conditioning. Today I have to deal with these things. As I was contemplating this checklist of chores, I decided to do some research and got on my computer, which is the real reason that I'm still awake, although turning on the bathroom light didn't help.

Moral of the story? I also use bathrooms for peeing, I like Lonesome Dove, Cable and Internet bundles are confusing, but I think I found the best one, and I have to wake up in  two hours.


Friday, July 13, 2012

The Internet Isn't Just In Your Swimming Trunks Anymore!

I have a smart phone, be jealous. It uses the Android Market, whatever that means. I have apps on it and I can surf the internets from just about anywhere. It’s a phone, a computer, a calculator, a calendar,  an alarm clock, a map, a GPS (which is better than a map), a music player, a camera, a dictionary, a book and just about anything else you can think of. If the battery dies, I panic. If I miss place it, I tear my house apart like Bilbo Baggins trying to find his beloved ring. It’s with me all the time. This small, electronic device has somehow become my best friend.

Let’s think back just one year. One year ago I, like many of you, had a cell phone. I could call people, text people, and take a very low quality picture, and that’s about it. I didn’t have all the knowledge in the world in my pocket all the time and I was happy. How was I happy without so much? If you had asked me then, I’m sure I would have had an answer. But now, so many months have past and I can’t recall how I lived my life without Facebook at my fingertips.

I can remember a time when I could sit at a restaurant with friends and we would talk. We talked about all sorts of things. We made fun of people, of ourselves and laughed. We had no interruptions, just good times. Now when I go out with that same group of friends we still laugh at people, at ourselves, and talk about music, but something has changed. Now we talk less. We sit and look at our Facebook pages, take time out to check in on FourSquare (speaking of which, I better check in; need those points for… something), or Tweet a funny little quip (My most recent being, “I’m all grown up now” I know, hilarious.) We suddenly stopped being best friends with each other, and became slaves to our new best friend, our phones.

Now, I feel the need to turn my attention to dating and social media. I’m not going to preach about internet dating or anything like that; I just want to make a simple request. Please don’t text. It’s rude. Leave the phone put away and have a real conversation. Start the date by saying, "You leave yours away and I’ll do the same, deal?" Good, that’s all I wanted to say about dating and what not.

I’m not trying to say that all this stuff is bad; I just don’t think that’s true, but maybe next time we’re going out of our way to spend time with other human beings, we should forget about our electronic best friend and try having a real social experience, you might just remember how fun real people are.

With that said, I’m going to go check my Facebook. Don’t judge me, I never said I’m perfect. I’m a work in progress just like you.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Confessions: Staying Out Of Trouble

I hold a title within my family that my siblings are not eager to relieve me of and considering that we are all grown, I'd say it's safe to say that I will always be the reigning Donner Family "Spank King".

As controversial a topic as spanking is, it's important that as you read on, you remember that
           1) I was not abused as a child
                      A) Spanking is not the same as abuse
            2) I don't care about controversy
                      B) Or your opinions
Now that we are passed that, I will continue with my story.

I wasn't a problem child nor did I try to get into trouble. It's just that everything I did backfired, got someone hurt, was loud, made a mess, started a fight, broke the house, or was just annoying. I was always warned especially when it came to the annoyances. Anytime I did anything at all, someone would say, "Don't jump on the couch!", "Don't step on it, pick it up!", "Don't sing the "F word"!", or "Ouch! Don't leave "Legos" on the floor!" but I never listened and so I ended up over a knee with a hand cracking against my crack! This was common place in my young like. My own dear mother apologized in advance to my Kindergarten teacher for anything I would do at school.

I have a brother who is seven years younger than me. By the time he was born I had been dubbed "Spank King" for a couple of years already. He was a strange child. He watched "Marty Stoffer's Wild America" and "The Lion King" all day, every day. He wouldn't watch anything else. Also I feel it fitting to mention that he didn't talk. He growled, roared, and went about on all fours. Early in his life, I saw in him an excellent scapegoat  for anything I might do and decided my best option moving forward in life and keeping myself out of trouble would be to simply say, "Jeremiah did it".

I planned and practiced when and just how I'd say it to make sure it was believable. Then the day came. I don't remember what I'd done or how long it took to be noticed but when the question, "who did this?" arose, I said simply, "Jeremiah did it" just as I had planned. Then I watched as Jeremiah took the licking that should have been mine.

"Holy Crap!" I thought, "That actually worked!" I can remember multiple occasions that I was yelled at for saying Holy Crap! I thought I made it up AND that it was hilarious, so I didn't stop saying it.

Jeremiah took the punishment perfectly, silently and like a man... cub. I, surprisingly, didn't feel the least bit bad about it either. "Why should I?", I thought. He was too young to remember it and I wasn't in any trouble!

He never did take the title of "Spank King" but he did considerably decrease the rate at which I was spanked or otherwise punished.

It wasn't until recently that I felt bad for my behavior and came clean. I sent Jeremiah a text message that said, "I used to blame stuff on you so I wouldn't get in trouble."

His reply came swiftly. "I know. Douche."

He said that he remembered getting in trouble and not remembering doing what he was punished for, but knowing that adults are smarter than kids, he decided he must have done it.

To my parents: Regarding the slices in the brand new tent incident: I DID NOT DO THAT ONE!  You were right to punish Jeremiah as you saw fit. That was one thing he really did, also it was the moment I realized that I should blame things on him!

Friday, May 18, 2012

Me, Weather, Gas, and 9/11

Sean Donner (Me)

It has come to my attention that I’ve got some newer readers who are not familiar with who I am. My name is Sean Donner of the Waseca, MN Donners. I’m also claimed by any Donners in New Ulm, MN as well as some other places in Southern Minnesota. I like Punk Rock, snakes, most other animals too, also most other music. I’m a fan of intelligence and love making fun of people. I like to fix things, make people laugh, and imagine things, which is part of why I write.

I have a brother who moved to Phoenix, AZ (which stands for Arizona). Phoenix is a great city and I love it, but moving from Minnesota to Arizona has got to be such a shock to your system. They are just two complete opposite places. Minnesota! Land of 10,000 Lakes! Green… so green. Everything grows there. Dandelions just shoot up in the middle of roads. That’s actually what the yellow lines are made of, evenly spaced dandelions! Corn cobs are giant! Two feet long with a six inch diameter. And each soy bean, not pod of beans, each individual bean grows big enough to make an entire soy burger.

Winters are consistently -90 degrees. We got cold days at school. Not snow days… COLD days! The government steps in and says, “Guys, it’s ju… it’s just too cold.” Don’t get me wrong, there’s still snow. You know how a lot of places get snow and then by noon it’s gone and you can just go around in a light jacket and you’re good? In Minnesota, once it snows, you have snow and it’s there. Hopefully it melts before next winter. Winter sucks and so it feels like the longest season. Really, it’s about three months just like the others but, you know what they say, time slows when you’re slowly dying.

Just when you think winter will never end will never end and you will actually die, summer shows up and it’s instantly 90 degrees with 100% humidity. There is literally one day between -90 and 90 and that day is magical! That’s Minnesota for you though -90 and 90 with mosquitoes that will take one pound of flesh. In the winter they say, “Don’t go outside, you freeze to death” and in the summer they say, “Don’t go outside, you’ll be incinerated!”

So my brother moved from Minnesota to Arizona which is like moving from Austria to the Sahara Desert. One minute “the hills are alive with the sound of music” and the next everything’s dead, you’re thirsty and everywhere you look there’s water only you can’t get to it.

It needs a cowboy hat!
Arizona is cool though. They have the greatest little lizards that scurry about. Scurry is a great word, isn’t it? It’s one of those words that are reserved things based upon their size. You will never hear someone say, “Look at that Elephant, how it scurries about! How cute is that!?” Except that I just said it. My favorite thing about Arizona is the “Man Cactus..s… Cacti” that are everywhere! They’re only in Arizona though; they live nowhere else which is amazing. You cross the border and there they are. And they’re enormous! They are the cactus version of Red Wood trees! Or skyscapers?

One of my biggest pet peeves (which is a stupid… word?) is when you’re talking about a place where the weather is always great and the same, someone will, without exception, say, “I don’t know, I’d miss the seasons.” They’ll say that as serious as they have ever been! “I’d miss the seasons.” That’s ridiculous. It’s like saying, “I hate nice weather. I want to be miserable for parts of the year.” No one says that!

In most parts of the world planning an outside activity is scary. What if on that day it’s cold or raining or otherwise shitty? But in these “season-less” places I could say, “Hey guys, let’s play kickball.”
“Okay” the guys will say, “when?”
“December 21st two years from now” I’ll answer.
“Oh perfect,” the guys will reply, “It’ll be nice out then!”
In most places that conversation would go like this.
“Hey guys, let’s play kickball.”
“Okay, when?”
“In like two hours unless clouds gather together and say in a thunderous voice, ‘I hate outdoor activities! Go inside and watch “Chips” or “Who’s Line Is It Anyway?” reruns!’”
That’s it! Those are your choices. You might ask, “Night Court”? “Cheers”? “Who’s The Boss”? No! Only “Who’s Line…” and “Chips”!

Spring is the best time in Minnesota. Those two days in May between -90 and 90 with the side of 100% humidity. Everyone is so happy. There’s actually no crime! Absolutely none! Just the sound of car stereos and the smell of grilling. The whole state smells like grilled food and music is in the air. People smile and say nice things to their otherwise despised neighbors while they wash their cars and sip cold drinks in their front yards.

People love talking about the weather. Weather is the only thing everyone has in common. You run into the guy down the street at the grocery store and someone will eventually say, “Well, if this rain would let up!” Another favorite is, “How about this weather!?” Also, “I don’t need anymore of this damn snow to deal with!”

People also love talking about gas prices. And everyone is totally knowledgeable about why it is the price it is. “Well, the price per barrel is down. It’s the lowest it’s been since 9/11.” Gasoline conversations always include the catch phrase 9/11. Has ‘9/11’ been trademarked yet? I should do that. I’d be a stickler about it, too. I’d eavesdrop on conversations and as soon as someone says, “9/11 this” or “9/11 that” I’d swoop in with my documentation and demand payment in full. I’m going to do that now!

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Fast Food: A Scholarly Essay

I did not take this picture.
I'm disgusting. I don't usually say that, but I'm just gross right now. I ate McDonald's. That's gross enough but I ate it in five minutes. Five minutes! Five Damn Minutes and I downed two cheeseburgers, a bunch of french fries and a Coke. The Coke wasn't even good. It was mixed wrong or something but I didn't care because I'm disgusting.

Sadly, two hours ago I decided that I was going to eat healthier and cut back on soda. My resolve to become healthy lasted until I thought of McDonald's. One thought and of fast food and I was there. Almost as though the thought itself transported me to their drive-thru. Then I started eating, not happily either. I was angrily, sadly, almost embarrassingly shoveling that food down my gullet. I literally picked up the full french fry container and poured them into my mouth.

The worst part of the whole thing was when I spilled ketchup from the cheeseburger on my shirt. Dead center. Plop! goes the ketchup. I looked at it and, without thought, scooped it up with the burger. Then when the burger was consumed, I licked my shirt, thus sealing my disgusting-ness forever.

It gets worse. Minutes after finishing this terrible meal, the fast food farts made their presence known with rotten smells and hilarious sounds. Fast Food farts smell different than normal farts. They're noticeably salty and greasy. If you put a box of greasy french fries, special sauce, hamburger patties, and a dozen month old eggs under a dumpster on the hottest day in Florida and left them there for a week, that's what fast food farts smell like. The smell takes away all of the humor the fart would otherwise have.

Sometime in our mid-twenties most of us reach a point where fast food generally becomes depressing.The problem is, like a hangover, it is forgotten until experienced again. On the outside, fast food conjures up memories of Kid's Meals with their toys and the excitement of going "out" to eat. Then, it just doesn't live up to our memories and instead takes away our self-esteem and makes us stink more than what is acceptable for even a zoo to stink. You go with the excitement of a child and end up fat, lethargic, stinky and hating yourself.

We all know it's true, but you and I also know that there's no way we'll ever stop eating fast food. It's addicting. It's our culture, and although everyone hates it, we will also always love it... 

...Kind of like WalMart.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


Not long ago, I was reminiscing about the past. As a teenager I was a Skater/Punk. I hung out with other skateboarders, listened to punk music and "sang" in a punk band called Kaptain Kommunist. It was an epic adolescence. I grew up in a small town and for a long time, my only means of transportation was my skateboard. I would ride it across town everyday to go to work at Dairy Queen. 

With this reminiscence came a longing to ride my skateboard. I still have one and I probably always will, although it spends its time in a closet gathering dust these days. And so, not too long ago I pulled the skateboard out and used it as a means of transportation.

You know what? It sucked. In fact, it was the worst thing ever.

I'm not sure why I thought of this today, but the why is not important. The fact of the matter is that I thought about it today and it somehow brought my mind on a journey which mysteriously ended at the subject of camping.

I thought to myself, "Why do people like camping? Also, when did people start camping? There was a time when camping was just living. Your house was a tent and you lived there. Occasionally shit would get real and you'd be forced to back up your tent and whatever else you owned and find a new home.

Then, one day a smart guy decided he hated living in tents and he sat down and thought up a solution. And shortly thereafter the first house was constructed. I'm sure there were naysayers, as there always are, but before you could sing Alice's Restaurant everyone on the block have built themselves a house and the invention spread from there.

About ten years later a guy named Joe Campton reminisced, much like I did recently, about living in a tent. "Moving was so much easier back then" he thought. "I didn't like the Jones' and how they would show off their fancy camel, so I took down my tent and moved it over by the McCormick's. But now I have these walls and it's so hard to build a new house."

What do you think old Joe did? That's right, he took his tent out of the storage closet and carried it out of town on the back of his practical camel. When he found a nice place by a stream and a tree, he set up his tent, rolled out his sleeping bag, and started cooking over a fire.

Guess what? That's right, it sucked!

That night Joe remembered that sleeping in a tent is basically just living in a sheet. It's cold, there are bugs, and also you don't have a house! The next morning Joe packed up his tent and went home. He was embarrassed that he'd been so foolish though, so when people asked him about his night in the tent, he lied.

"It was the best!" he said enthusiastically. "You can go out there and forget about everything at home. You feel like you're one with nature! It's the best thing ever!"

People are generally gullible and so they believed him and before you knew it, everyone was doing the same thing Joe Campton did. They went "Camping". They all hated it too, but because they thought they were supposed to like it, no one ever said anything. People are also very scared of being wrong, so they made themselves believe they were having fun feeling at one with nature.

And so, from then until now people go camping. They go out in the wilderness, live in a sheet propped up by sticks with all the bugs and the cold wind and just like Joe Campton, they call it fun, and say they enjoy the feeling of being one with nature. They are all liars!

Monday, March 19, 2012

One Thing I Shouldn't Know

When I was a very little boy, maybe in first grade, my dad worked with a guy named Bret. (Name been modified) Bret had two kids, Zak and Jacky, whom my mom babysat. (Their names are likewise modified) There aren't a lot of facts about these two kids. Zak's nose was always runny and he called my Gramma, Gramma, much to her displeasure. Jacky was pigeon-toed and always tripped over her own feet. Also it was annoying as hell when she cried. My younger brother and my cousin who were about the same age as Zak used to beat him up with sticks. It was a hard knock life for any child at my house twenty years ago, but no one had it worse off there than Zak. Sometimes I feel bad about it. But, what are you gonna do, we lived hard and we played hard.

There was one time that they were worried because their mom and her boyfriend were late picking them up. My oldest brother told them that she was dead in a ditch. It made them cry, they had nightmares and my brother got in trouble. But it was worth it; we still laugh about "dead in a ditch"today. What else is there to say about those kids? We didn't much care for them. The really sad part is that they would bring us candy for every holiday and how did we repay them? We tormented their young minds and beat them with sticks. (We believed in paying it forward!)

Why am I telling you all of these things?

Today is Bret's birthday. Why do I know this? I wish I didn't. One day, some twenty years ago, he came to pick up his kids at the end of the day. I stood in the kitchen with him while he waited. He started talking to me and, without being too obvious, I did my best to talk down to him. I don't remember thinking too highly of him either. As we were talking he asked me when my birthday is.

"March 20th" I answered.

"Oh mine's March 19th" he replied, "So it's the day after yours."

"You're an idiot." I didn't say that, but I thought it. "It's the day before mine" is what I actually said. Thinking back on it, I'm impressed with my self-control. I'm not sure I could have done so well today if faced with the same conversation.

So, today is Bret's birthday. Happy Birthday, Bret... I guess. Twenty years later I still remember this fact. I wish I didn't.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Robotic Armageddon is at Hand

If there is one thing my best friends know for certain about me, it’s that I have no desire to ever be in outer space. If there are two things they know about me, it’s 1) That I have no desire to go to outer space, and 2) I’m terrified of Robots.

Now, I’m not terrified that they taught a machine to play the piano better than I ever will, or even that they taught him to dress so well. The issue here is that we all know that this was only the harmless looking beginning. Before you know it, he’ll get sick of playing that song and then, well, we all die.

Then, there are the sorts of robots who look like real people. This is the worst thing we could ever do! Now, when we see a cute little Asian girl, there’s no telling if she’s people. I can see it now. She starts dating some guy. He will eventually break up with her. He can’t figure out what it is about her, but something about the way she talks and the way she moves just seems… what’s the word… ROBOTIC! So her circuit board heart gets broken and, well, we all die!

Apple made Seri. Seri is part of the iPhone that knows everything. You can have conversations with her, she has a personality. She has intelligence. I’m positive that she’s self-aware. Hell, she has gender! She will probably be the one to tell the other robots to attack and then, well, we all die!

Then there’s a company called Boston Dynamics. They are the literal incarnation of SKYNET from the Terminator movies. They are creating robots that terrify me more than any others.

There’s “Big Dog” who has learned to react and change his footing when forced sideways in order to keep from falling over.

There’s “Cheetah” who runs 18 miles per hour.

These robots are made to fight wars and there’s only one thing that can possibly come from this. Well, we all die!

Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Every now and then I take time to reflect and reminisce about my past. I don't do this to better myself in any way. (it is my opinion that I'm pretty great just how I am) I also don't plan these reflections as though I have a standing appointment with myself. They happen randomly, like running into a long lost friend. Also like running into a long lost friend, it's often awkward.

Although these reminiscence sessions place me in direct danger of embarrassment, I continue to allow them to occur for one simple reason: They are hilarious. At least I think so, and I'm quite sure that if you don't find them funny, they will at least be enlightening.

So here's the deal, every time I realize something from my past that I find share-able and hilarious, I will write it on this blog and the title will be something like,

"Confessions: Letters in 1998"

In 1998 I was a total lady's man... in my own world. Whether or not this was reflected in the real world or everyone else's worlds, I can't be certain, but for the sake of this story it's important that you understand that I was a lady's man.

I was fourteen years old and like most fourteen year old kids, I was experiencing some metamorphosis. Most of these "Power Ranger" type changes were very similar to most people. Also, they were usually disgusting; body odor, voice cracks, I started "growing" facial "hair". My fashion sense changed, as did my taste in music and many of my friends. Music is key to this story. I started listening to Punk Rock!

Back to the point of me being a total lady's man, Around that time I also discovered that girls thought I was cute. That's right, I used to be cute! It lasted about a month and it's been down hill ever since. I few of these girls who thought I was cute lived in other towns and we started writing letters back and forth. I guess you could say we were pen pals, but that sounds so dorky!

There was one such girl in particular named Jessica. I met her at a church volleyball tournament. I had seen her at another church something or other a month or two before and thought she was cute, so I was totally excited when she wanted to get my address so she could write to me. (This was before most people had email... I'm old)

I was serious about my letters. I even had a binder with paper for the letters, stickers, envelopes, stamps and the addresses of the girls I was writing to. (I was cool) I wanted my letters to her to be as cute as I was back then so I spent a lot of time with them. Almost as much time as I spent in my bedroom listening to Slick Shoes, Blink 182, Nerf Herder, Homegrown and other awesome bands that I still listen to fourteen years later. Most of the songs were about girls so it worked well for me to think about Jessica and the other girls I wrote letters to. I remember for sure that Jessica got a lot punk quotes worked sneakily and unaccredited in probably all of her letters.

The point of this story is: I'm sorry Jessica, where ever you are today, your letters from Sean Donner were heavily plagiarized.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Guys Think It's Funny; Girls Never Will

There are things in this world that the males of our human race will always think is funny, and ladies, you will never fully understand. It's not that we're stupid or that you're stupid; it's just something in the way we're all wired.

Number 1: The Three Stooges

This is a Copyrighted Image. I do not own it!
Now I know there's a few of you ladies reading this right now, saying to yourself, or if you're in the bathroom you're then saying it to every woman ever, "But  Sean, I like the Three Stooges." To this I say simply, "No you don't."

I'm sure you've watched the show before, enjoyed it, and even maybe laughed, but I also know that you didn't laugh as hard, or as frequently, or with the utter glee as any man or boy would watching that same movie. And again, let me stress, I don't think there's anything wrong with you ladies or that there's anything wrong with us as men... in this situation; it's just the way it is.

I know that you're now waiting for an explanation from me as to why girls don't think The Three Stooges is funny. This is want I've come up with. Ready?

I don't know!

I'm sure there's a highly scientific explanation for this phenomenon. The problem with this, of course, is that it's highly scientific. Therefore, I'm not the guy to explain it. I'm only here to tell you the facts. And, ladies, the fact of the matter is you don't think The Three Stooges is funny.

Number 2: Farts

Also not my image.
I once wrote a essay about farts, trying to pin point exactly what is funny about them. I categorized them by them by name according to the sound they made. BERT, ERNIE, PAT, and JEFF. Bert is loud and in your face. Ernie is the type that squeaks out. Pat is short and quiet. Jeff is the covert fart, you probably won't even hear him, but you'll know when he's been there. There were also graphs detailing how long a fart will be funny based on it's smell. The problem with this essay is that I never actually pin pointed the reason farts are funny. I left the essay with the decision or realization that farts are not funny for one particular reason but for every reason they have to throw onto the table.

They make funny noises. They smell bad. They come from your butt! They are slightly taboo. There is also a warning I gave to all men then, and I likewise give it now: "The smell of a fart releases a chemical in the female brain which makes the said female instantly and violently angry. NEVER FART IN FRONT OF A GIRL!

Girls, again, you may think that because you laughed at a fart once means you think they are funny. I'm here to tell you that you're dreadfully wrong. You don't understand the humor of a fart and you never will. Don't get mad, it's not your fault, it's not my fault; it is nobodies fault.

Number 3: Taking Pictures of Your Friends on the Toilet

This IS my Image!
Bathroom doors come with locks. This is a fact, but the locks are not there for the purpose you might be assuming. There are locks on the doors of bathrooms to act as your last line of defense between you and a picture of you on the toilet. You may be thinking that the person who put the lock on the bathroom door is your friend, but they're not! They put that lock on that door as false security. You see, you lock the  door thinking, "I'm Safe!" but all it takes to unlock that door from the outside is a screwdriver. They call it a "Safety Mechanism", but really it's just so your friends can be hilarious.

Don't worry though, you'll think it's funny, too! You see it's a known fact that, although there may be a struggle of some sort, ALL guys think toilet pictures are funny. Don't believe me?

Exhibit A.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

UNLUCKY's First Review

It is difficult, sometimes, to properly review the work of a friend. There is always a concern at the back of your mind that you may either be: a) not critical enough, and make excuses for them just because you like them so much and don't want to look like a jerk, or b) overly critical, because your expectations match your regard for that person, and you will more than likely be let down because they weren't able to deliver.

Luckily for Unlucky, I didn't feel the nagging need to rewrite my friend's work, and it's easy, laid back style allowed me to read it for the fun piece of fiction it really is.

Unlucky does not pretend to be the next great American novel, but it certainly doesn't need to be. Initially the story falters as it attempts to set its tone, but once the reader recognizes the thought patterns of high school students, the way that they perceive their contained world as the absolute beginning and the end, as well as the way they build fantasies into the reality around them, this novel (novella?) becomes much easier to read.

Stepping into the setting of Unlucky is like simultaneously re-experiencing the past and finding yourself in some strange alternate reality. The hero of the story (as a hero he must be, considering the hero-journey he embarks on), despite all of his dopey charm and silliness, manages to pull the reader into his quest, absurd as it may seem. Riddled with the delicate nuances of teenage politics, as well as characters that are striving toward some sense of legitimacy with their observations, Unlucky is perhaps more genuine writing than many of the more acclaimed authors of today. I found myself laughing out loud as I followed Sean in his search for a stolen piece of Americana: A Britney Spears poster that he had found and taped above his locker. 

There is nothing too profound about this work, but again, it never pretends to be profound, and it is that honesty that gives Unlucky its value and charm. Though I would have liked to have gotten to know some of the secondary characters better, they all are just that, secondary, revolving around the universe in this work that is Sean Donner. With some more cultivating, this piece could easily have become something like The Big Lebowski, but as it is, it's a joyful story with an almost fairy-tale like quality.

Jennifer Hughes

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I Met You Once

Sometimes I come across as kind of a dick. Let me explain myself.

 I might be in a situation when someone wants to introduce me to a person or I have to meet someone. This is all fine... unless I'm never going to see that person regularly. What I'm trying to say is that I don't like having acquaintances. Whenever you see that person again, all they have to talk about is whatever was going on in your life when you met them.

Let's pretend for a minute, that I've ever said a funny thing in my life. I know it's hard but try. (That's what she said) Let's pretend that when an acquaintance and I met, I said something funny or memorable about my crippling fear of spiders. This is all the acquaintance knows about me. So months or years later when we  happen across each other again, acquaintance says something like, "Run into any spiders lately?" I don't remember our first conversation anymore; it's not that I'm mean or don't genuinely care about you, it's just that I have other things going on in my life; a lot of other things, actually.

It's just that conversations with acquaintances are always so awkward and I feel that they really much be awkward for both parties.

So you see, I'm not a total dick. I would just much rather be friends rather than acquaintances. Either that, or we can meet once and never cross paths again. It's all I'm asking.

Another thing I've noticed that's extremely awkward and therefore on the topic at hand, is elevators. Often times they are located in lobbies of buildings near a reception desk of some sort. So you walk into said lobby and what do you really have to say to the receptionist but "Hello." "How are you?" and "Have a good day"? Now granted sometimes you'll have to ask where something is or some other related question, but I'd venture to say that in most situations you're not going to have much of a conversation with this person.

So here's the awkward part. You walk into the lobby, say your hellos and how are yous while you're walking to the elevator. Then you push the button and wait in awkward silence for the elevator to make its way to you. I think elevators know this too, because they always seen to take longer when you find yourself in one such awkward situation.

Then when the doors finally to open, there's a single fat, hairy guy standing there, also going up seventy-five floors. So you walk in, because really, what else are you going to do? The elevator doors slowly close locking you in this small, cramped space with the largest man you've ever seen off a motorized cart at Walmart. Up you go in silence. It takes minutes you're sure and this guy is standing unreasonably close to you.

You try to think of something to say but all that comes to mind is, "This is the slowest elevator ever!" You can't say that, it will only make the situation worse, and so, the silence remains, until at last the doors open and you're finally free to go on your way making a mental note to take the stairs next time, it's more healthy anyway.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

In Preparation...

On February 2, 2012 my first printed book will be available for you all to buy and read. With this date fast approaching, I found it to be a good idea to give the world a quick preview. It is the tale of a young man and his Britney Spears poster. Enjoy!


It would be a morning just like any other; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just like every morning that came before, Sean was walking to his locker. The halls were crowded and he could hear bits of every conversation he passed. His schoolmates were sharing important stories from the night before, gossip about who had broken up with whom and who had hooked up with whom to get back at what’s his face for being such a douche. It all seemed unremarkable and forgettable, and that it was.
As he neared his locker, Sean spotted something truly remarkable; a Britney Spears poster lay forsaken on the floor. It wasn't of high quality nor was it very large, but it was beautiful in its own way. His dark brown eyes widened and sparkled as he stared at the abandoned poster. Sean had been a Britney Spears fan since day one and seeing this poster forgotten on the floor filled his young heart with both sorrow and excitement; sorrow that someone had treated it so shamefully and excitement that he had found such a great treasure. It was a confusing time.
So, he picked up the poster and carried it the rest of the way to his locker. Sean no longer heard the pointless stories of sleaze and infidelity; not even when they were about him. His mind was racked with the question of where his poster would be displayed. Upon arriving at his locker, he spied the perfect place in the wall between his locker and the ceiling. He decided that it would be best to carry his very non-athletic yet somehow all-American looking body on top of his locker and tape his newest obsession to the wall.
Finishing his work, Sean looked down the hallway and saw the assistant principle, Mr. Dahline walking towards him. “Aw Snap!” Sean shouted as he quickly jumped off the locker. It was against the rules to climb on the lockers and Sean liked to appear to be an upstanding citizen of the school.
“That’s just perfect.” Sean stated as Mr. Dahline walked by, “I’d do anything to make sure this poster stays here.”
“Would you even go on an adventure through the stinky bog?” Reid questioned.
Sean immediately stopped what he was doing, “What do you mean? You’re not planning on stealing my poster are you?” He paused and watched Reid closely as Reid struggled for something to say. When it was clear that Reid didn’t have the words, Sean went on, “That’s all the way on the other side of the school in the Agriculture wing. Why would it end up there?” “Well, someone might take it. I mean, it is a poster of Britney Spears.” Collecting his thoughts Reid paused, “Umm… oh yeah. You never know, some farm kid might take it.”
“Yeah, I guess. It seems really weird that you’d say that though. I hope for your sake that you don’t steal this poster. You remember how mad I was when you stole my Christina Aguilera poster; I put peanut butter in the door handles on your car, I completely colored your windshield in with green window paint, and lit a screeching fireworks bomb outside your house every night for a week. If you steal this poster, I’ll be even madder!” With that Sean closed his locker and went to class.
Before lunch, Sean went to meet up with his friend Marcus. Walking through the halls of the high school was always an adventure. Between the new couples making out, the old couples breaking up, people talking about who’s dating whom and asking, “What does she see in him?” the high school hallway experience would lead anyone who doesn’t belong there to the brink of insanity, if not passed it. Today was no different and on top of all of that, Sean was worried about the safety and security of his Britney Spears poster. He also wondered why tons of people weren’t giving him compliments about his poster. If he would be honest with himself, this lack of attention hurt his feelings, but he didn’t let on and down the hall he went.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Thinking Of Something Funny

Everyday at work I have a lot of time with my thoughts. Believe it or not, being a Janitor doesn't take a lot of brain power. So I usually fill that time thinking about the characters in books I'm writing and how they'll react to the things I'm about to do to them. If I'm not thinking about that, I'm paying close attention to things around me, whether it be conversations people are having, strange things I notice throughout the day, or mother's rooms.

Today started no differently. I was going to clean shoe marks from the walls under desks in a whole bunch of offices, but then, life never let's you go a long with your plans, does it? You see, I was cleaning to the side of one such desk and reached over for a rag that I'd been using. Retrieving the rag and moving back to my starting position, I found the corner of the desk with the side of my head. Everything got blurry and I stumbled around a bit. The rest of the day was kind of a blur and now here I am at home wondering what happened to the day.

I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere, but I'm not sure where it is. If you find it, please tell me.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

An Open Letter To... Maybe You?

I've been bothered over the last two or something weeks by the amount of people who are taking the things I write and joke about seriously. On this blog you might remember a post about the Mother's Room and in my most recent article in Y Fashion Magazine I wrote about Runway Models. The comments that followed both of those little bits of what was supposed to be fun, explain to me, often in simple terms (I'm guessing so my actually really smart brain will understand it) why the things I wrote about are the way they are. This isn't bothersome to me because I personally need everyone to think I'm funny, but because I'm hoping to use my grand sense of humor professionally. This is why I write all the time.

So today I was thinking about this and found myself coming to a startling conclusion. I realized that in both cases the people who think that I'm not funny or don't understand my humor are women. This is even more troubling to me, because I firmly believe and, in fact, know for certain that I don't have too much else to use to attract the lady folk. So if they don't even think I'm funny, what else do I have to live for?

So ladies, and anyone else who may have misinterpreted the things I've said ever, let us all be on the same page now, when I say that nothing I say in this blog and probably in Y Fashion is serious. I'm very intelligent and I know why things are the way they are, I know how the female anatomy works, and the only reason I ever write  about such things is to bring people joy.

I love getting comments on here. I love to hear feed back. Just please don't explain things to me; I already know and it makes me feel like you're not enjoying my talents that I live to share.

With that said, Am I the only one who has thoughts which make me laugh uncontrollably in public? It's kind of embarrassing. Sometimes I just start laughing and can't really explain why in such a way that it will remain funny.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Ways To Get Up or Down

I was just sitting on my couch watching TV and started thinking about way to get from on elevation to another. Elevators, escalators. And then I had to think because I ran out of such machines. What else transports us up and down. Trams, ski lifts, The Power Tower.

The Power Tower does not really fit with those other things though. The only purpose of the Power Tower is for thrills, peeing yourself, barfing, and basically just wanting to die. It's a thrill ride for people that like being shot into the sky or dropped from way up in the sky. It sounds terrible to me but apparently it's quite popular in some crowds, like amusement park goers. I hear they really think it's a good time.

Anyway, lets get back to the point, shall we?

Elevators and escalators don't really work in the same category as Trams and Ski Lefts, and the Power Tower belongs in the same category as bungee jumping. So I'm going to spit them up and discuss pros and cons.

Elevators VS Escalators
Elevators are pretty quick and will carry you up multiple floors, but some people (not me) are very claustrophobic. For them elevators feel like a tomb.

That reminds me when I die, I want one of two things done.

Option One
I want a tomb! This would of course require copious amounts of money and so I'll have to start selling some books or something but I know exactly what it should look like. I even drew it late one night for my buddy Kelly E. (You know who you are! Do you read this?) So I don't have to explain it I'll draw it for you on "Paint".
This is what I just came up with.
Let me explain this. I will Rest In Peace in the big grey rectangle. There is a statue of me riding a Clydesdale. (never mind that it looks like a really ugly pony in the picture) I'm holding a a big awesome sword to the sky. The best part about the whole thing are those little white dots on the ground. They are flowers called Simbelmyne. They grow on the graves of kings in Rohan. Yeah, the one from the Lord of the Rings. This is what it looks like.

Option 2
If I can't have that, then whatever. Just throw my dead body in a ravine and walk away. It's not like I care. I'm dead now anyway.

Back to the point Escalators, elevators, ski lifts and trams are different.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Where The Old Yeller Fern Grows (And Lassie Is Not There) (Or Beethoven)

I like movies about animals. That's a fact. There's no way around it. Animal movies = Awesome. Here's the thing though. There are some animal movies out there that are not as awesome as others.

These movies all end with the animal dying. Why the hell would you do this? It's always dogs, too have you ever noticed that? People in the business of making a terrifyingly sad animal movie know that it won't have the same affect on people if you end the movie with a dead cat. Saturday Night Live knew years ago that if you kill the cat, people laugh. That's why they made Toonces The Driving Cat. If you don't believe me, watch that  link. I'll wait.

You laughed, didn't you?

Back to my point. They always kill the dog! They do this because they suck and they know you will cry. Not just cry, they know that you seeing the story about a dog dying will ruin your day. That's what these assholes do.

These movies are stories of hardship and overcoming the said hardships and you feel great about your life and your heart is warmed. Then, the dog damn dies, the kid cries and your life is destroyed forever.

So, "Where The Red Fern Grows" is terrible for another reason other then Big Dan and Little Anne (the dogs) dying. This reason is: there is a little human child that falls on a hatchet and dies. And here's the kicker, We don't care! We don't care that he dies because he was a bully. So what! The child has a small behavior problem probably because he realizes that he lives in the middle of nowhere and a hundred years ago and I'm pretty sure the kid knows that the people on the other side of the TV screen watching and hating him, have everything he can't even imagine existing and that it's awesome. Just maybe that's why he's such a giant douche.

So why do they make these terrible movies? I don't know but they ruin our lives. If you don't believe me, watch this! Your life was never the same, was it.

Also, I realize that Lions are cats and I said we laugh at cat's. This is THE EXCEPTION TO THE RULE!

Monday, January 2, 2012

I Noticed Something

I've spent what I'd call an average amount of time in malls across the United States. I've noticed a few things.

1)Escalators are just as easy to go up as they are down.

2)Carousels are wicked awesome!

3)Skylights are a must. They make you feel like you're actually outside. As do the trees.

4)Orange Julius has one customer a day.

5)Bathrooms are impossible to find.

6)There is a National Mall Radio station called NMR800AM and it's horrible.

7)Hot Topic went from too much black to too many colors in one day.

Also, because of malls I've learned something about Hell. Ready for the seed of knowledge? Here it goes.

Hell is a never ending mall in which every worker at every kiosk tries to sell you their lotion, toys, frames, belt buckles, or whatever other useless crap they are quite literally pushing in your face, and each of them stops you to try to sell their products. And because you're such a nice guy, you stop and listen.