Where the heck have I been? Around.
Tandom Thoughts was a column that I wrote for my school paper my junior and senior years. It was delightfully forgettable and tandom. In fact, the name of the column was a failed attempt to combine my name with the word "random". Instead, it just made the yearbook teacher constantly point out that we misspelled tandem therefore making the yearbook crew far superior at spellchecking. Yet, he constantly tried to recruit me to join yearbook and bring Tandom Thoughts with me. Hmmmmmmm.
Anyway, I decided "Why not bring Tandom Thoughts to Blogger?" So here it is. Tandom Thoughts coming to Blogger.
To start this new adventure, I thought I'd give you my favorite edition of Tandom Thoughts I wrote.
We all like a good story. Especially ones that are so unbelievable, people don't care whether they are true or not.
To prove my point. I will now tell the story about how I killed a bear.
I was strolling through the woods thinking to myself, when suddenly I heard a rustling behind some bushes.
I went to check it out and lo-and-behold I was staring a ten-foot-bear right in the leg.
We stared at each other for a bit. Neither of us was really doing anything. That is until I noticed he was scolding me. Ten-foot-bear or not, I don't like being scolded at.
"Your fur is mangy," I told him. He scolded more and said, "So is yours." At this point, I had to pull out the big guns. I mentioned his mom.
"Your mom doesn't like your mangy fur." Take that, bear-face.
He simply replied with "At least my mom doesn't want me to cut my mangy fur."
This got me a little mad, so I started pointing at him. Mind you, bears DO NOT like to be pointed at.
He then ran at me. I then dramatically jumped out of the way while the Six Million Dollar Man sound effect played and forced him into a tree. Unfortunately, he recovered.
He then began chasing me around the lake. I had to resort to dirty tricks: I threw a stick at his feet. This stumbled him up but not enough.
He came at me again, but this time I jumped on his back and began steering him by tugging his ears. Yes, you can steer bears.
While riding bearback (BEAR-back! Get it? No? Well you stink.) I looked for a way to end this epic, yet not-so-violent battle.
Thinking quickly, I steered him into a trash can full of fatty foods. Upon consuming so much at one time, he then had a heart attack.
As he clinched his arm in pain, he looked up at me and said "Good game." Watching him die somewhat peacefully with a smile on his face, I realized this brave beast must live on somehow. So I took him home and shaved his head and arms. And that is why my flip-flops are so furry.