Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.

Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.

this is funny stuff.

Sandy Lost a Step

After I was done checking out at Meijer the other day I was pushing my cart towards the exit and I walked by the beloved 1 cent Sandy horse ride for children. In a flashback at that same moment I remembered the days when I could fit on that horse and would proudly ride the untamed, wild beast whipping at it's rear end, pretending to run wild through the aisles of Meijer.

It was comfortable then too. I remember the genuine leather saddle that practically screamed official former cowboy saddle memorabilia. There was probably still gun smoke smells forever stained into it from gun fights outside the OK Corral against those hooligan Pettleton Brothers Gang always terrorizing town. Or, it was countless rear ends of smelly, poopy pants children rubbing their rear ends against priceless, genuine memorabilia.

Back in 1989 I remember almost getting bucked from that wild stallion. That sucker sure had some power and it sure ran hard. After several visits to Meijer for groceries with my mom and several pennies begged from her purse I had eventually mastered the wild Sandy. Other children would get on excitedly only to have no knowledge of how to control it's unbridled electric power. I would snicker as I waited in line ready to show the next riders how it was done, and when that 45 seconds of bucking, galloping insanity was over, I would proudly get off as all the patrons of Meijer watched in amazement.

And then as I saw this little girl riding the mighty Sandy, I realized, the Mighty Sandy was hardly an image of her glory days. She had lost a step. It barely rocked...forward...and back...with no power, no untamed wildness like she once had...she's been tweaked her and there over the years to keep her going, including a fiberglass saddle, no doubt hard and unforgiving on the gallops.

I'll always remember the good ol' days Sandy.

Ride on good buddy, ride on.

Ode to Herman.

It's hard to find a person who influenced me greater in my elementary school years (other than my dad of course) than Herman Moore, the great Detroit Lions wide receiver of the 1990's-early 00's.

Not only was he, along with Barry Sanders, the reason I watched Lion football, but memory of his lanky, freak body catching bombs from Scott Mitchell Sunday after Sunday is forever etched into my mind. That is probably why I still am a fan today. The legends of yesteryear continue to give me hope. (johnnie morton! germane crowell! brett perriman!)

I had his jersey, and still do. I had his cards, and still do. I destroyed other teams with him in Madden renditions on the Nintendo 64. I even had his haircut. (and unfortunately still don't). A dutch boy rocking the Herman Moore 'fade up/steps' haircut at calvin christian elementary was a sight to see. I fondly remember sitting in the chair meticulously directing the haircut ladies how to properly do a do like herman moore's, the basic #2 on the sides just wouldn't cut it for me. they hadn't seen a cut greater. I would then proudly return to our house to display my haircut to my dad, also a proud Herman supporter, to which he would smile big and cheer jealously (wishing he could do the same no doubt). A father could not have been prouder.

So, Herman. Thank you for influencing my life, but mainly, for the fashion pointers. I would have never made it through 3rd-6th grade without the 'Herman Fade'.

Side kick dogs who wear goggles > me.

Here this motorcycle riding man has a side kick dog, complete with goggles.

It was probably a few months ago now that Heather and I were cruising down the road and to our delight we spot this man...with his goggle wearing dog. (the dog is sitting right behind the guy..sorry, the cellphone camera is the best we had in a moment of laughing out loud and not slowing traffic to a complete halt)

It was at that moment that I knew goggle wearing dogs are the coolest ever. hands down.

I also was thinking that I wanted a goggle wearing dog too.

I'm pretty sure having a side kick dog would loosen up any tense situation you walk into. thereby diffusing any chance of violence. instead we would all just kind of be like, "man...our heads our not on straight right now...here I was about to punch your cheek and this dog with goggles is staring at us...what a reality check!" and someone else would chime in, " yeah, lets think of names we would give our own goggle wearing dogs!" and then we would all laugh about silly names for goggle wearing dogs. except I already had one, named jim or amazing larry. i can't decide.

until that day friends, keep on the look out for goggle wearing side kick dogs saving the world.

john

when I loved wal-mart

yes. there it is. it's out there now.

some people liked the Disney Store, others, Toys R' Us. 

John, liked wal-mart.

Before we go on, please note I am now a firm wal-mart hater. I don't go to wal-mart to shop, and if I happen to be in one, I don't enjoy being there. But there was a time in my life when  for some reason I really, really loved wal-mart. so i apologize for the lunacy of this time of my life.

It was a crazy fascination with the retail giant. Now, I knew we had Meijer...but those had become boring. There wasn't a wal-mart around me for miles. and the prices! oh the sweet sweet low prices! The commercials said they were rollin' em back and I wanted to spend my hard earned paper route cash at the wal-mart!

Whenever our family went on vacation or we happen to be somewhere there was a wal-mart, I would literally get excited. I NEEDED to stop. It was a moment of pure ecstasy, I wanted to go into every wal-mart as if I was fulfilling life goals by being there and to appreciate the different lay out from the previous wal-mart we went to the town back. I loved walking through the toy aisles, touching the toys I could have at such bargain prices, imagining the fun I could have with them, all because wal-mart offered them so cheap. 

I remember only a few specific things I wanted from a wal-mart, one, 1/64 matchbox nascar cars-of course to the get buckshot jones cars I did not own, and two, they offered gangster rap cd's pre-edited!. (side note here: I was also in a phase of liking all sorts of rap music, generally because i liked the beats, most of it however was laced with cuss words and all sorts of provocative lyrics that my mother did not approve of--nevertheless, I wanted it. wal-mart offered those previously unpurchaseable parental advisory cd's edited, as if to please mothers and make it possible for 11 year olds to buy them) That's probably why I liked to go there the most, oh, and because their 20 oz. coke's were super cheap then too. It was as if wal-mart thanked me personally with a fresh, cold coke to enjoy as I left their store.

so, maybe you're laughing at me right now for the ridiculous wal-mart loving period of my life, or maybe you suddenly realize that you once loved wal-mart passionately too. 

a wal-mart hatin', low price shoppin', cool hat wearin' friend,

john

the tale of the pokemon trading sixth grader.

Sometimes I might tell stories that seem a little crazy to be true...well, I promise they are, and this is one of them. When I was in the 6th grade, I was a pokemon trader.

Now that might seem a little arrogant but the power was given to me. You see, back then, Pokemon was still somewhat new, and I had gotten into before it got really "big" with everyone else. My cousin Rob and I had boxes of cards, we had beaten the original gameboy game (I had the blue version, rob had the red one), we had truly collected them all.

There was also another part of my life that was quite a serious sports card collector. About a mile down the road from my house was the All-Star Sports card shop, which I frequented nearly every saturday, if not more per week since I was in third grade. I even had my own stool at the end of the counter to peruse the card collections and look for cards I needed to finish collectons. The owner of the shop, Dave, was a older guy who enjoyed having me around and "talkin shop" with him about different cards and players, and the Tigers too. He would even give me a heavily discounted 20oz. Coke, or Surge, and even, occasionally a free one on a hot summer day for me to walk home with, or if I had just purchased a large amount of cards. Dave was a good guy. 

Pokemon and card collecting now intersect.

One day Dave asked if knew anything about Pokemon cards. I said I did, and that I had many cards at home already, and was quite proficient at the card game. Dave was happy to hear this. He then proposed the greatest job a 6th grader could have had (except 6th graders working at a store is illegal) He offered me a 1-hour shift on Wednesday nights to be the "Pokemon trader" and he would compensate my rare knowledge and skills with free packs of cards and sets. It was a miracle. 

I was in my element. At 7pm on Wednesday nights I would walk down to the shop, stand on the other side of the counter and make deals with kids my own age on what cards they could trade or not. I was ruthless. No one could pull a fast one on me. You think a Diglett is worth a Squirtle straight up? shut up, no! ain't happening. I was a pokemaster. 

Now, I wish the story could just finish there...I was at the height of poke success. There was no other 6th grader working under the table trading pokemon cards and making bank on mid to late-nineties NBA and NFL cards. But with much power and success, comes a price. 

Over time I got greedy and asked for the more expensive sets of cards as compensation for my work. Dave would hesitantly agree. Then it slowly became too much. I had dug myself into debt. I was working Wednesday night's only to pay off the cards and sets I had taken home from weeks previous. The burden was too much, so I conferenced with Dave after one Wednesday night of Poke trading and card pricing (the job evolved into bigger responsibilities like pricing regular sports cards from the "Beckett") and I asked if I could be done working there. The wish was granted and my run as an Poke trading sixth grader was done. 

My business relationship with Dave and the sports card shop remained strong after that incident, not because I was buying sports cards still, but really for old times sake, until, sadly, I found the card shop closed when I came home from college during my freshman year.

And that my friends, is the story of when I was a pokemon trading sixth grader.

john

give me a bloggin' time out.

Somehow i've been pretty consistent writing a new post each day for the past week. I'm surprised actually. I've tried before and failed. But I'm feelin' pretty good about this one, so, quite ironically, i'm taking the weekend off. No bloggin. no somewhat profound/somewhat useless post for you to read. It's an official timeout. word. 

callin' time-out's better than chris webber in 1993,

john