Sunday, February 1, 2009

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

a thing called room mates.

there are few things that i am sure of in this life.
1. i need food to live.

2. girls make no sense.

3. room mates blow.

now please. allow me to vent.

no matter how many houses you live in. no matter how many room mates you have. you will always be stuck with a complete douche bag.

its the laws of room mates:
Vol. 1, Article 13, Page 125.
each house hold containing two or more tenants must house at least one, but not limited to, a complete and total bag of douches.

dont sleep on the couch.
do your dishes.
turn of your alarm.
dont touch my stuff.
put your clothes away.
dont talk to my friends.
they cant stand you either.
just dont live.

great idea. dont live.

Monday, September 1, 2008

a thing called canada.

so tonight was quite an adventure. i met an actual canadian. she spoke english. and looked alot like an american. but as soon as that red and white maple leafed mouth opened, unfamiliar words began to spill out like maple syrup onto ketchup chips. canada, oh canada. home of moose. french people. snow. leaves. syrup. hockey. ketchup chips. mispronunciation of vowels. and of course every ones favorite high taxes. lets talk about this for a minute. im all for high canada taxes. it makes me feel great about myself....
i find myself at safeway.
aisle #2.
i pick up the latest edition of transworld surf. it looks great. i should purchase this i say to myself. but then i look at the price and see that its $11.00. NO WAY! then my eyes raise slightly and i realize that the magazine is really only $4.50. ON WAY! the deal is on. thank you canada for making me feel like i am always getting a deal.

oh and btw.
stay up there.
were ok with out you.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

a thing called home.

every once and a while i feel the urge to write a somewhat serious blog. but i usually supress the feeling and something useless comes out. but heres what happens when i dont fight. five years ago i moved out of my parents home.

california. hawaii. california. colorado. california. utah. texas. utah. hawaii.

im tired of moving. i need a place to call my home. ma and pa decided it would be a good idea to move the huggans family from california to utah. land of opportunity, knee length shorts, and bad haircuts.

utah was good.... but not for bryce
im back where i think i belong

its the only place where i have lived in the past five years that doesnt give me a head ache. its calm. its happy. its warm. it smells good. it feels good. it tastes good. its good. teenagers always want to figure out who they are. i just want to figure out where i am. and i think i found it. and that makes me smile.
im happy here. im home.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

a thing called syrup

apparentley canada produces 8ighty percent of the world's syrup. congratulations. sometimes we need food thats not food. but that we is not me. dont get me wrong, syrup can be quite tasty. sap. corn syrup. sugar. other. waffles are waffles. pancakes are pancakes. leave them be. they are tasty by themselves.

stay away aunt jemima.

keep it simple. and that goes for you too gravy. leave my friend mashed potatoe alone.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

a thing called blog.

their is a little thing called blogging. personally i hate the word blog. it sounds disgusting, why didnt they use a better word. many other words would work just as well. blooping. booming. bonding. or even bahounding. the idea of a blog is never the same. tell your feelings. be upset . be depressed. be happy. be whatever the hell you want to be. but what it comes down to is. explain your brain. i feel like blogs are kind of a thing of the past already. in this ridiculious world we live in, where we are never happy with what we have, were always looking for the next best thing, especially if we can find it before our neighbor. blogs came, blogs are going. and i am getting in. am i going to continue to blog after this, my first blog? thats a hard call.

but it feels good to just write. it feels good to reach into my ears, and pull out a chunk of my brain. take some tweezers and pick through it. and as i sort out pictures, stories, and dreams, its hard to tell the difference between gray matter, and things that dont matter.