The flight of the sadbot

Once upon a time there was a poor cobbled old man. He lived in a poor cobbled little hut on the edge of a very small cobbled little hill. One day he built a plasma rifle and shot holes in all of the stop signs around his village until the cops came and took away the plasma rifle, which was fine cause he had a bjillion of them. This story isn't about him.. Wait. Yes it is. Anyway, he also built a robot. This robot was so amazing that it could fly faster than light. Now I know what you are thinking, "Lance, shouldn't that sentence have read: 'This robot could fly faster than light, which was amazing.'?" And to that I say, NO! Stop trying to correct me! GOSH!! I literally mean that the robot could fly faster than light BECAUSE It was so amazing. Sheesh! Will you shut up and let me finish my story? Thanks. Anywho, the robot was sent on only one mission, and so at the age of 500 miliseconds, it set off to complete the one thing it was designed for. Its target: the beta quadrant. More specifically the fourth galaxy to your left as you entered the quadrant from the north. Yes, the north.

So upward and outward the robot shot, like the tire of a huge tractor flung from the finger of a young giant. The robot rocketed toward the beta quadrant. The wind against its cranial tactile sensors. The music of Michael Bolton surging through its dual core processors. (Hey, people like different stuff, get over it) Oh, and to those that say that there isn't wind in space. The robot was there. There was wind. Accept it. Well, the journey was long and boring, because nothing happened during it, so I will skip ahead a bit.

Chapter 4: the Goat conundrum.

I can't remember what a conundrum is. The robot finally reached its destination, and released the terrific power of its weapon. The robot felt the locking clamps jolt open. It watched as the weapon burst from within its chest and was borne out into the empty black. The weapon seemed to pause for a short moment before ripping the dark from the emptiness of space into a violent bright-white light. A light that even a blind monkey millions of light-years away could have seen, except that he didn't, because he wasn't looking. Stupid blind monkey.

As the light began to slowly diminish, it sucked with it all of the happiness from the galaxy. All of the horrible, ugly, putrid happiness that had oppressed the many inhabitants of the galaxy. Everyone instantly became sad, just like the sadbot. however, because this was what the inhabitants of this particular galaxy had always wanted, this was considered a very good and noble deed by the people.

And that is how the coolest robot ever saved that one galaxy... In the Beta quadrant.


See the sadbot in action (don't forget speakers. This is a rockumentary.)

the end.
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Even the most determined of opinions

We all know that I have never been a big fan of dancing. I mean, I am not actively against it. I just think it is kinda silly. I don't understand what is so great about people moving around.

Well, the other day Sydney and I were in the car on the way to wherever, and my Enya techno remixes were playing. Sydney was dancing and dancing (just with her arms, cause she was buckled up.) And she insisted that I dance too. That was one example out of many over the past few months that tell me that she is going to be serious about dancing in the future. Her dancing is the cutest thing I have ever seen. And I just know that in the future dancing won't be as silly and dumb to me when she does it.

that's all.

X

This is post number 10. I am glad to say that I have achieved the unimaginable, the unthinkable, the highest honor a blogger can achieve. Yes, I am a decapost blogographer.

I have been asked by many people, "How can you be such an amazing blogophite?" And to them I say, "I didn't just set up a blog one day and start typing random thoughts into the computer." Which is pretty funny because that's actually exactly what I did. I can't tell anyone that though. Think about the pandemonium that would ensue if people knew how easy it was to become a super-evil-villain-blogmaster.

You know what, I may be the greatest blogtenant that has ever tickled the beige plastic, but just between you and me, I know that I really suck. Now you may think that I said two completely different things in that last sentence, but who asked you anyway?

In celebration of my tenth publishmentorium, I would like to treat you all to a photo from a special time in my life.

There was a time when I felt the potent rush of inexplicable joy through teaching people how to sweat to the oldies. And then Richard Simmons came along and stole my whole life out from under my rainbow striped leotard. I thought that I could trust him. Well, you all know the rest of the story. That Lance is gone. I will never ride that neon comet through the sky again. That's ok though. We can look at this picture and maybe, just maybe, we can reach way up into the heavens and catch some comet dust from a life long past.

Ok, I made that all up. Or did I? You be the judge.

lyrics

I came up with a new song for christmas because I am so sick of the current christmas music awailable.

I have only written the lyrics, but I'm sure I can cook up some music later. Here are the lyrics so far:

christmas, christmas
now it's christmas
christmas time
ok for christmas.
christmas, oh boy!

Chorus:
yep, christmas
yo, ding dong, ding dong, yo, ding dong. yo
christmas



that's all I have written so far.

I could teach it though.

I was thinking about all of the talents that I don't have, but wish that I did. If the desire for talent was a talent itself, I would be an extremely talented person. It's all good, though, because I have figured out a way to still contribute in my own special way.

Let's take art. I like art. I am not an artist. However, I am a very good art critic. Actually, I am really really good at evaluating... well, critiquing.. Ok, it's probably more accurate to say that I am realy good at pointing out how dumb things are. For example, I can look at some art and instantly know if it is good or if it is just kinda dumb. Does that make any sense?

I can't dance. But that's ok. Flailing my arms and legs around, and/or standing on my tippy toes while wearing spandex that shows WAAAAAAY too much is something that I really don't feel I need. Um, let's not talk about dancing anymore.

Ok, here is one thing that I can do: When I was a kid I used to be able to move things with my mind. I could kinda channel my thoughts along paths of energy... that might have been a dream actually. I wish I could move things with my mind. Do you know how cool that would be?

I want to someday own an emporium. To be really honest, I don't really know what the actual definition of emporium is. But doesn't it sound cool? I just think it would it would be cool to be like "hey everybody, let's have christmas down at my emporium this year." or "You guys are going to spain? Do you want to borrow the emporium for your trip?"

I guess you could say that my greatest talent is my open attitude and positive imagination. If you ask me, which I'm pretty sure you did, I am probably the man. well, you asked.

end of transmission_

I have children. I have a video camera.

Boydell bought these cool little video cameras that aren't studio quality by any means, but they are small and really easy to use, and they just use an SD card, so it is really easy.

Anyway, I took one and pointed it at some of these kids that I think are cool, and here is the result:

The height of stupidity

I can't help myself, I gotta type about this.

Someone, please, explain to me why intoxication is at all interesting to people. I know that it is supposed to make you feel good. but I can't see how the trade-off could ever be worth it.

gosh, being drunk has to be the most ugly, embarrassing, devasting situation that anyone can get in.

that's all.

Don't drink. It's stupid.

And on that note...

I think last time I typed into this magical typewriter, I was writing about how commercials suck and how I hate them and such. I really hate the ones that are trying to be funny or cute that don't quite pull it off. If I have to see another Geico commercial with that stupid lizard, I swear that I will kick every lizard that I can find, and I will pull off all of their tails, and punch them in their little lizard faces.

ok, but aside from commercials, I really don't like announcer guys. especially the ones that are trying to talk really low, but don't actually have low voices, so their voices just end up sound grumbly. ugh! That guy on the science channel, ya the one who is probably really a tenor in real life and tries to talk like he is a bass. If I ever meet him on the street, I am going to go up to him and yell "Shut up, stupid!!!!!" and then I will send him an apology letter for being so rude, but at the bottom of the apology letter there will be some fine print that says "Seriously though, Shut Up!"

You know who I like though? I like Mike Rowe. He is kinda dorky, but I like that. And he does have a deeper voice, but he doesn't push it, you know? Anyway, Mike, if you ever read this, you're ok by me.

ok, good night diary,
xoxo Lance

It all began with the VCR

Ah the beauty that represented the VCR. I remember when my family got our first VCR. We could watch that one single video tape that we had about deer. Every once in a blue moon we would actually borrow a video from the local video place.

That's all fine and dandy, but the true genius of the VCR could be found on a single button on the remote control. This button either was labeled "FF" or ">>" You could record your favorite TV show and then fast forward through all of the commercials! This was great because, as it turns out, I really hate commercials. Not watching commercials was something that really appealed to me.

Now we have these fancy DVRs and computers and such, and they are certainly awesome. But I think that we owe some respect and gratitude to the VCR.

Thank you VCR.

I got nothin

I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out cool secret hiding places for my top-secret data. You know, like if I had a ... list of .. . bad guy .... gosh I have no idea. Listen, if anybody has any juicy top secret data, but no place to hide it, give me a call.

Here are some ideas for you if you need to hide that CD you burned with all of your under-cover minion's real names and addresses:

• Get a crayon. Normally kids have crayons, so ask one of them to get you one. Now, take a piece of paper and place it over the cd. Now move the crayon around on the paper until you get a perfect picture of the cd on your paper. Now you can destroy the CD, and as long as you have the paper, you can always recreate the data. To recreate the data, get a new blank CD. Put your piece of paper that has the crayon drawing over the blank cd and then get some lemon squirts. Note: don't get the lemon squirt in your eye. Spread the lemon squirt over the paper evenly. Wait 2 hours, Now get your telephone. A cell phone won't work for this part. Hold your phone up to the CD and the dial tone will activate the fibers in the lemon squirt which will burn the cd for you. If this doesn't work, then burn a new CD from your computer.


• Find a group of male penguins that are holding an egg on their feet. Penguin males will hold and protect those eggs for like .. months. So If you can sneak your CD in there too, they will fend off enemies for you. You will probably need active camouflage to get close enough to the penguins. If the penguins spot you, beat feet.
  


• ASk your mom to keep the CD in her purse for you. Nobody is going to look in your mom's purse. If you think they might, write something on the CD. You could write something like 'Celine Dion: Greatest Hits.'
  


• Get a group of minions together and shave their heads. Now tattoo all of your secret data onto the shaven heads. You will probably need to keep the minions working at your underground compound until their hair grows back. Now if you ever need your data it is safely hidden in plain sight. Well, something.
  

If you have found this post to be useful. You can send me some chocolate.

About the author: Lance Whitaker is the author. The end.

This post has not been evaluated by the FDA

Sometimes when there is nothing to write about, I just start typing and hope that the words that pile out onto the page end up making sense. Actually, I really just hope that there are enough of them that it looks like I wrote a lot and cared deeply about something. Maybe I should use a larger font and double line spacing.

Ethan and Sydney are very different people. Even though they are so different, they get along really well. Surprisingly well. too well.. Do I smell a conspiracy? Anyway, I started out by talking about how different they are.

Ethan. Here is a super child. Always so kind and sweet, he is definitely a people pleaser. I never understood the term "Terrible twos" with Ethan. He just didn't go through that. One interesting thing that I have noticed as he develops is that while he is generally trusting, he doesn't just take my word on things, which I think is good. I love that he knows that he is smart and that he wants to check out things that he just doesn't agree with. For example, he has a little v-tech video game system that has the ability to run on batteries or on the ac plug. The system takes little game cartridges, and after trying a few of them I determined that the console was broken. Ethan decided that just plugging it in wasn't enough and that it really needed the batteries too. Well, I tried to explain how it worked and that you either use the plug or the batteries, but not both. The next morning, Ethan told me that he put in batteries but it still didn't work. This was funny because the console takes C size batteries, but Ethan had only been able to find AA. That didn't stop him though, he had those AA's in there ready to go :).

Sydney. When they say that girls are made from sugar and spice and everything nice, I think they were right. Especially the spice part. Don't get me wrong, Sydney is the sweetest girl. There isn't anything like coming home and having a little girl shout "Daddy!!" and run to give me a hug. However sweet, Sydney is in charge, and independent. She loves the feeling of accomplishment, always shouting "I did it!" As we were getting Ethan's v-tech out, I found a little blues clues game, so I plugged it in for her in her room. She loved the feeling of having it be her turn and that she could play it all by herself. It must be fun for her to start being able to do things that she could only watch Ethan do previously.