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

Buy a House. Check.

Well I went out and bought a house today..

It was a long, long, time coming. Approximately 70+ homes walked through, and countless more viewed online, and we finally found our little nest...and I'm quite happy about it all. Infact, very happy. We'll be busy, metaphorically adding little sticks and leaves to our nest here and there, sprucing it up and whatnot, and with much fanfare, moving my lay-z-boy reclining rocking chair into it's final destination. It's quite a nice chair. I will let you sit in it. Oh yeah, and there are these two cats who think they own our yard...I already hate them...I'm sure pictures of them will show up one of these days...

These next couple days will probably be madness: moving everything in-painting-mowing the lawn-killing weeds-and putting things where we want them. But I will fully enjoy every moment.

house owner, cat-hater, lazy-boy lovin,

john

"large marge sent me"

One of my all-time favorite movies is Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure. I remember watching our vhs tape so many times and laughing hilariously every time. It wasn't just funny, it was educational. It taught me how to make some good, everyday life decisions, and some general wisdom I could then apply should I run across certain situations. I wanted to share it with everyone, but don't take my word for it (said in the style of LeVar Burton on PBS's smash hit "Reading Rainbow") see the movie for yourself, or better yet, I'll watch it with you if you ask me.

My Lessons Learned from Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure:

1) indoor pool fighting is the next big thing, and apparently no one will hear you fighting. But conveniently, in the end someone looking like oddjob will hear and ultimately ruin the fight altogether.
2) sometimes the mind will play tricks on you and in those times it will appear as if you are trying to unravel a knit sweater that someone keeps on knitting, and knitting, and knitting and knitting..!
3) when someone in the same room as you has a name like "amazing larry" you should probably ask if he has anything to share with everyone else. I would imagine he would.
4) we should pity all the poor fools who aren't nourished daily by Mr. T cereal.
5) life is gonna be okay when you are dreaming of pushing a big donut and there is a snake wearing a vest.
6) there really is no basement in the Alamo. and to suggest the possibility of it's existence is a) one of the greatest timeless jokes ever or b) the product of the lousiest fortune teller ever.
7) never chew gum offered from your sworn enemy (even during what looks to be reconcilation) just insist you don't chew.
8) don't ever, ever, in any circumstance, tie your bike to a creepy waving clown when bike racks are readily available for public use.
9) when your local pet shoppe is burning and you have a monkey helping you save all the pets, forget the snakes...they just aren't worth the trouble.
10) tell people large marge sent you. trust me-its a good story.

I'm sorry, I use too many, comma's.

Listen, I apologize.

As the years have gone, by the way I write things has morphed into a weird style of mental conversation and proper punctuation. I'll be honest, I was never that successful in my punctuation lessons...I would just toss random apostrophes and comma's and periods in where I thought looked good or just started a fresh paragraph to steer clear of any complications. I could never conquer it. The way I have come to write nowadays, like, what I'm writing right now, is to me how it would sound if I were to actually verbally speak this blog to you. The comma to me is my personal dramatic pause. I will comfortably toss a comma where I think I would rest as if I were speaking it to achieve maximum effect for the listeners (in this case, you the reader). I apologize for that because half the time it's probably wrong and your punctuation and grammar radar is going off like crazy as you read my blogs...but I ask you to read with a new set of bloggin' glasses. Read with the perspective that I am a broken, c- english grammar student who is going to write this way regardless of what you think of his punctuation skills. Maybe one day I'll figure this whole comma deal out...but until then, I will metaphorically drop comma's like they're hot.

like, thats all.

john

1992: when i almost became a hockey star

It's about this time of year , every year, during the NHL playoffs when I think back to the year 1992, when it all could have begun. I could have become a hockey star.

In 1992 the first, of what would eventually become one of the finest sport-action-comedy trilogy movies of all-time, The Mighty Ducks, was released to American households. It was a story of a bunch of misfit hockey players assembled by a coach with a bad history...that coach was played by Emilio Estevez, a brilliant actor I might add. Well this team goes on to win the whole kit and caboodle. You might remember The "Flying V", Quack! Quack! Quack!, and the ever so wise skate shop manager/mentor/obi-wan kenobi like character. The movie had it all, a great story with a good arc.

It was this movie that almost moved me enough to pick up the sport of hockey. I was a young kid-wanting to one day be a champion hoisting some sort of trophy after beating out the much praised and favored opponents. I had visions of playing for the Red Wings, or better yet, the actual Mighty Ducks team. I could play the role of the 'Banks' character-the prep kid who had some sweet game that the coaches would find playing in some local park displaying mad hockey skills on inferior 8 year-old Gretzky wannabe's.

Except, none of that ever happened.

I never played hockey.

and to make matters worse, one time when I went skating at the ice house, the skates cut deep identical lacerations into both of my shins...scarring me forever, reminding me of my shattered hockey dreams.

But, regardless of my shattered dreams, or the "what if''s?", I am who I am, and that story doesn't include hockey star, and you know what? that's okay with me...but at least it almost happened...so I guess I'll just watch the playoff's and smile in satisfaction about a career that could have been.

the almost hockey star,

john

when to say no to a taco

The other night I was driving home late and I had that unmistakeable urge to eat taco bell. we all know that call, don't we. I like it when I get that call. The problem arises when I want to eat my crunchy taco now. The dining room is closed. It's late-I'm not going to sit in the parking lot and eat it, and I can't wait until I get home to eat them because then I will just want to go to bed. So I started to eat them while I drove home.

I will say, before I go on, that I encourage safe driving at all times. Driving while you eat is never exhibiting safe driving skills, so please, don't eat and drive. But sometimes I'm just pretty darn hungry.

Any other food is pretty "driver friendly"; jbc's from Wendy's, easy. chicken nuggets aren't even that bad. But tacos? just say no.

Long story short, half the taco will end up on you. You know how when you eat them (or atleast like I do) all the stuff falls out into the wrapper and then you get to enjoy eating all the remains later on? It's totally not as cool picking it off your clothes...

So, learn like I did, when to say no to the taco. Perhaps I should have just waited several minutes to eat them...or not, because it was still quite tasty.

a crunchy taco lover,

john

a guide to being fabulously rich

Recently I've been addicted to an app on my Apple Touch; the free to download "Lemonade Tycoon" by EA Sports. seriously, go check it out for yourself.

What started in frustration has only blossomed into a lemonade company with a net worth of thousands of dollars, an employee, and has slowly become the official drink at the baseball stadium, popular for its sweet lemony taste, but not too watered down either. A company, who even in the economic slump doesn't skimp on its product, and offers top rated lemonade for .50-1.10 on any given day. it's a true american company. 

You see when I started the game, I foolishly expected to get rich quick. I was frustrated by the fact that I couldn't get my formula right, I would run out of product, the lines were too long, and to top it all off, I was losing money. 

But that all changed with I thought of a business model that would surely succeed. My lovely fiance had concocted the best tasting lemonade formula and knew how to control things when the weather dipped too cold or got too hot. Together we mastered the lemonade sector of the business world. do you want to know how we did it? I'll tell you.

5 rules to become fabulously rich as a lemonade tycoon:

1. Don't expect to have cash stuffed in your pockets on day 1. It doesn't happen like that. The right strategy done simply, and repeated many times will make your lemonade stand grow.

2. Don't waste your money on renting out the "cool" places like the mall, marina, or train stations. Yes-they do promise money, but that time will come. Just stay in your neighborhood and build a popular stand there, and it's free after all. You can use your saved rent money to buy upgrades quicker or more supplies.

3. If you feel the need to advertise, only spend like $4. There's no need to spend 10-or 20 in your beginning months. They will come if you give them a good, affordable drink.

4. Price your lemonade appropriately. Think small. lemonade priced at .90 is a good price point for the every day weather. When its over 100 degrees, go ahead and increase your price to 1.10 or maybe more later on. When it gets below 70, like 50-60 weather, you have to slash your prices to .60 or so. 

5. When it gets hot outside (95+) give it 5 lemons, 3 sugars, and 3 ice cubes. That keeps patrons happy. and when its below 90, 4 lemons, 2 sugars, and 2 ice cubes will do the trick.

and of course, buy the upgrades as you go. Your ability to hold more stock, attract more customers, etc only increases the amount of profit you can make. 

Do this simple process over and over and in no time you'll be rolling in so much lemonade cash you won't know what to do with it. Enjoy.

 

your fabulously rich lemonade tycoon friend,

john

self-conscious blogger.

So I have a blog now. I have to admit it's kinda awkward too.

I just sort of write whatever I'm thinking and you read it...but maybe that's not the weirdest part of this experience for me. The weirdest feeling is how insecure I feel about my blog name. "john said what", I couldn't think of anything. My mind froze. I was paralyzed by other awesome blog names like "imvegetarian", "bloggingforjesus", "muscleshirt" and "blogfurniture" (none of which I've gone too by the way, so I may not endorse whatever they say on their respective blogs!-though bloggingforjesus sounds promising...) 

There's just too much pressure. Too much competition to have the sweetest blog name around, and I crumbled. 

But I'll keep on typing, even with my blog name self-consciousness, maybe one day it will hit me...I'll have the perfect, hilarious, need to check out blog name.

thats all i have to say about that.

john