I”m back!!!! Finally! Wow, what a draining summer! I’ll try to put up a post soon, maybe a poem if I finish it. Hope you guys missed me, cuz I missed you! Let me know i anything important happened on here while I was gone.

After my walk around the community where I live, I took a trip to their world-famous zoo. Let me tell you: they’ve got quite a collection! People come far and wide to stand in awe of the spectacular things kept there.
At the gate, a most interesting man offered to be my tour guide. I agreed, and he began to show me some very interesting animals.
First, he led me to a giant cage. Inside, he said, a most ferocious creature lived. “Here,” said he, in a deep, mysterious voice,”lives a beastly thing; a second-generation lion, known far and wide for his cunning and intellect. His roar has caused many to leave, never to return. He has not a lady lion, for none will stay near him for long periods of time.”
After a brief look, we moved on. Next was a giant, rolling pasture. “This,” explained my tour guide, “is the home of a little lamb. But don’t be deceived: this lamb, like many of the creatures housed here, is full of mischief. It believes it is following freedom, when in reality, it is about to wonder off of a cliff. So also in this pasture lives a sheep dog, who serves as the lamb’s gentle shepherd.”
We continued. Beyond the pasture was a set of dog houses. I asked my faithful guide what they were.
“Well, the first one is the sheep dog’s house. He sleeps there if he is ever off duty. The next belongs to a dog named Wilma. You see, the sheep dog is getting up there in years, so we’ve been training Wilma to be a shepherd dog, to take the sheep dog’s place.”
I nodded, and we headed on.
We came up to a beautiful mansion. I asked if this is where the owner of the zoo lived. The man laughed, and replied, “No. This is a cat house.”
“You see, the owner loves cats, and he even collects them! He kept getting cats, cats, and more cats! Finally, he couldn’t hold any more, so this building was constructed, and now his cats live here. His favorite is the one that grins like the cheshire from Alice in Wonderland.”
I asked how many cats lived there, and he told me he lost count after one-hundred and seventy!
We walked kitty-corner (get it, kitty corner; cats?) from the house, to what looked like a giant bird cage.
“This cage,” said the man, “holds the most beautiful doves in the world. Each one is priceless, and many come just to see these magnificent fouls.”
I watched as the birds fluttered for a while, then a blotch of black among white caught my eye. “Is there another bird with them?” I asked.
“Ah, you must have seen our blind bat.” I looked at him strangely, and he chuckled.
“Well, it’s only half blind. You see, this bat has only one ear. After a great bout with our friend the lion, this poor bat found himself maimed, destined to fly with only half of his radar the rest of his life. He is quite an intelligent bat, so he makes off better than one would think.”
The man had one last thing to show me before my brief visit was complete. He showed me a series of boxes. Each box contained some sort of insect, each unique and one of a kind, such as the jayne bug, a relative to the june bug, and the giant black spider. Man, was that a sight for an arachnophobic!
On our way out, a beautiful deer frolicked past. This sight made me stop and think: Boy, what a great place I live! Sure some people may seem like freaks, but that’s what makes this place so great! The zoo had much more to offer, but the things I saw had enough excitement for one day, so I headed home.
On my way back, I thought to myself,” I just gotta tell somebody about this wonderful time!”
And who better to tell then my amazing neighbors!?

Wow. Talk about fun. Cedar Point is awesome.
As you may have heard, there was a Xanga meet up at Cedar Point in Ohio. As you may not have heard, since trebleclef402 for got who I was, I was at that meet up. Along with Simbathe2nd, one-eared-batman, she-who-forgot-me, and a Xangan who apparently wishes to remain anonymous. I was the group photographer, so all of those wicked awesome pictures posted on one-eared-batman’s site, yeah, I took those.
If you have never been to Cedar Point, put that on your “things to do before I die” list. Right above “meet Dan the Theologian” but under “tell Tigah he is wicked awesome.”
The Millennium Force: Awesome. Sheer, uncaged, adrenalinized, awesome. You go up, up, up, up, up, up, up, then finally, you go down. Not like kiddie-slide-at-the-park-down, closer to if-you-got-in-a-fight-with-Chuck-Norris-you’d-go-down-down. Yeah, it’s that awesome.
Power Tower: Relaxing. Seriously, when you’re sitting there at the top, waiting for it to drop, you’re kinda freaking out. But then it drops you, and it’s sorta cool, like floating.
Max Air: Sweetness. The only ride I felt I had to do twice before I left. We didn’t get to, but still, I wanted to. It was cool.
Mantis: Painful. ‘Nuff said.
Maverick: Unbelievable. It was awesome. It almost stops you right in the middle, then launches you out of a tunnel. It was soooo awesome.
Top Thrill Dragster: Amazing. I sat there as the pretend engine reeved up, staring at the lights. Three would turn yellow, then the last one would turn green, and I’d be off. It might be the last color I ever see. I stared at it, thinking “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m gonna die! I am going to die!”  I was torn in half, one side scared, crying, and, at this point, in control. But my other side, the daredevil side, the one that was fierce, excited, wanting nothing more to be shot at 120 mph 420 feet into the air, that side grabbed the scared half by the collar, and threw it into the corner, where it sat crying in fetal position.
Now I stare at the light, and a smile slowly creeps a cross my face. “C’mon,” I think to my deranged self. “Hurry up! Turn green! I dare you!” The light just stared back. Then, the track sorta moved, and five seconds later, I was gone. Breathless, I stared as the track came and passed in a blur. Before I know it, I was at the top! And that’s when I started laughing. That’s what I do on coasters: I don’t scream; I don’t just sit; I let the thrill of it all go to my head, and I laugh. All the way down the rest of the track, I laughed. It was amazing.
 I have to be honest, though, I expected more. With it’s name comes this awe, this dread, this feeling that you might not make it down alive. But when it was all done and over, it wasn’t that bad.
These weren’t the only rides. There was the Iron Dragon, the Raptor, the SkyHawk, the indoor one, Disaster Transport,, and a few others I think.
If you didn’t make it, which most of you didn’t, you missed out, and you are very sorry and you promise to go to the next Xanga meet that I’m at.
If you want pics, go to batman’s site. But remember, I took them.
A shout-out to one-eared-batman, for driving. To Simba, I don’t remember why. And to treblecleft, for being there, and being awesome.

It’s amazing how loud silence can be. And how many responses it actually implies.
If someone asks you if you liked the meal, and you just look at them, they are going to assume no, you didn’t. If it’s accompanied by a glare or scowl, then they are going to assume no, you didn’t, it was horrible, yes, you are suing, and due to your talking to them, your life is now in danger.
If someone were to ask you for directions to the nearest Biggby Coffee shop, and you didn’t answer, they would assume you didn’t know; when, in fact, not only do you know, but you were just there (again) letting that pimple-faced sixteen year old behind the counter know good and well how changing the name due to some easily offended group of extremists was not only stupid and childish, but it also signifies the weakness of Americans, and how easy it is for them to give up something such as a world famous name, nay, not just name, but a monument, a tower, standing tall, letting all know that here, in America, we are free to choose where we get our coffee; but now, thanks to the weakness, the want to please all and offend none, this mighty tower has fallen, and instead of that world famous name that Americans took pride in, a different name has taken over, and we Americans now have another name for humility and giving up, and this word has two g’s.
Or if someone you haven’t seen in a long time begins telling you their life story (or perhaps you’ve just seen them yesterday, but they tell you anyway), and you just sit there, and don’t say a word, they might assume they have your rapt attention, and are hanging on their every word, when, in fact, you are sitting there thinking about how well the Detroit Tigers are doing, much better, in fact, then your home team (unless it is the Tigers, in that case, good for you), then, as they drone on, your thought changes to how pleasant it would be if this particular person had no voice box. It certainly would make the world a happier place. Than you wonder if you know any doctors that could perform such a operation. Then, by the time they are finished, you tell them that it sounds like they have a hoarse throat, and that they should go and see Dr. Smith. They tell you that they’ll call as soon as you go home, and when they leave you quickly call Dr. Smith, informing him that your savings are his if he does a certain operation to a certain “friend.”
Or maybe the tables are turned, and you are the one talking, getting no feedback. Maybe that person does like the meal. On second thought, back away slowly.
Or perhaps that person just doesn’t enjoy coffee as much as you do, so of course they wouldn’t know where Biggby is. Anyway, you’re just glad they finally found an appropriate name. Ah, good thing America is such a tolerant country.
Or, hey look, you haven’t seen them in a while! I bet they’d want to hear all about what’s happened to you in the past ten, or even twenty years! What’s that? Dr. Smith? Well, my voice does hurt a bit. Yes, I’ll call as soon as I get home!
Perhaps you’ve just informed someone of how you feel about them, but you get no response. How do they feel? The same way? The opposite? In between? Instead of an answer, life drones on, silent. Revealing nothing.
I never have believed no news is good news.
And I realize now, like you would two months after seeing an old friend and calling that nice Dr. Smith, that silence isn’t always golden.

I’ve never really considered myself a Xanga veteran. I’ve been a member for three years (I had a previous site.), but I haven’t been a serious blogger for most of that. I used to post the noob stuff, you know, thing like “Hey, wassup! Leave a comment!” or “Yo mah peeps! I’m super bored, so, like, leave a comment, or comment me, or send me a message, then comment me. Yeah. See ya. Please comment,” and occasionally “Just ate dinner. It was good. Comment.”
Actually, every now and then I would post something humorous. But, I sorta have to. It’s what I do. Anyway, three virtual years is a long time, and in my time, serious blogger or not, I’ve seen a lot.
I’ve seen new bloggers quickly rise to success.
I’ve seen new ones, try, fail, fizzle out, and leave.
I’ve seen good Xangans, who had been around for quite some time, leave abruptly, for little or no reason.
I’ve seen bad people tear down good people and get praised, even featured, for it.
I’ve seen good people stick up for themselves, and get humiliated for it.
I’ve seen good blogs, bad blogs, stupid blogs, funny blogs, happy ones, sad ones, grieving ones, celebrating ones, boring one, informative ones, mean ones, nice ones, controversial ones, and just about every kind in between.
I’ve read of experiences, heartaches, stomachaches, one headache, confessions, attacks (provoked and unprovoked), defenses, alliances, trials, suicides, rapes, births, birthdays, humorous stories, serious thoughts, great ideas, and so many other things.
I’ve met friendly Xangans, great bloggers, horrible people, atheists, fellow Christians, buddhists, muslims, blacks, whites, asians, arabs, one Canadian, vegetarians, moms, dads, distant cousins, conservatives, liberals, and plenty of other types of people.
I’ve made friends, allies, and, so far, no enemies. (If you count yourself as my enemy, please let me know, because quite frankly, I feel left out. Thanks.)
But there are a few things I haven’t seen in my time.
One of them is trolls. I have yet to see one troll. I’ve heard ghastly tales of them. I’ve read quite a bit of posts about them. (Thank you, antisoccormom. Jk! Your posts were usually entertaining.) I’ve never ene heard a troll named. If you could point me to one, I would be grateful. (And no, I’m not talking about trollish looks either. If I were, I would have mentioned vanedave. [Ha! That's for not singing Domo Origato on XTV!] Again, just kidding. I’m just having a little bit of fun.)
Also, I’ve never seen this so-called Xanga drama. Not the infamous kind I read about all the time. Just short little bursts of tension. Never any soap-operah-worthy, long-lasting (long as in a week) drama. If someone could please show me some, I would be much obliged. (And the kind Dan the Theologian causes doesn’t count. He’s just out to get you.)<——–Not just kidding about that.
And last, but not least, on my list of unseen things, is a John comment. Do the even exist? I’ve heard stories, but they’re doubtful.
If you have any information about the above, please help me. Thanks.

Such a wonderful word. I fear adults forget the sacredness of this word. In all their hustle and bustle, they forget what it used to be like. How in school this word was the most magnificent word in all year round.
From September to November, it’s used in reminiscing what one did before the school year began. The taste of freedom is still fresh in the mouths of students since the dreariness of school and winter has yet to set in. Meeting new friends and old acquaintances feed the fire of optimism that still lingers in their hearts.
And yet, that fire soon dies out. That beautiful word is not even uttered from December through March, and even into April. Evil, vile winter has frozen the hopes and dreams of the young. Such adventures that had happened not many months prior are all but forgotten now. All that is left is the dull schedule of school. Exciting things are now few and far between. The small warmth of the weekend is not enough to thaw the memory of freedom that this word harbors.
But as the school year slowly creeps to its end, this word starts to awaken. Slowly, like an animal being awoken from its hibernation, it begins to creep across the tongue of every boy and girl. They realize that the prison bars of school will soon be shattered!
Then, all at once, May is here! The curse of winter is now broken! This word is no longer frozen, but alive again! Dancing across their minds, causing day dreams and excited conversations! Plans are made, adventures are charted, and soon the reminiscing of last year is heard again, how this year will be so much better.
Then, June at last! It is no longer a word, but a reality! No longer plans, but actions! Now it is Winter who sleeps, not to be awaken for what seems like an eternity! The fallen hero has finally risen and conquered school! Freedom at long last!
Summer!

So, what are your plans?

It was 10:10 in the morning on the 8th of June, 2009. Our group was attempting to negotiate food in return for money from some of the locals. We were starving, and it was slow going. I awaited my turn to take a crack at getting through to the odd-speaking lady. Finally, it was my turn. I approach the counter.
“I would like the hot cakes with sausage, please.”

“The ha cakes and sawsege?”

“Yes, with a hash brown and a milk.”

“Hasbrow, two fo one dolla?”

“Uh, sure. And a milk please.”

“Ha cakes an sawsege, hasbrow, two fo one dolla?”

“And a milk.”

“Ha cakes an sawsege, hasbrow, two fo one dolla?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Who needs milk anyway?

Luckily, this place had a McDonalds. But then again, every place does.
So we got to the place where we were staying, and some of the girls nearly passed out. Obviously, the place was not as good as they advertised, but I didn’t complain: after all, there was air conditioning, a pillow under my head, and I was able to catch the last twenty seconds of the Lakers/Magic game.
After we got all of our stuff loaded off of the bus, we were shuttled to a subway of sorts that was the main mode of transportation. We navigated our way to the center of the city, where most of the famous relics were located.
We met up with one of the locals,surprisingly she spoke English, who acted as our guide for a few hours. She took us to her favorite spot to eat, then gave us the 101 on surviving the subway.
It was an extremely hot day, and it seemed that we had to walk everywhere. So at the end of the day, we were all happy to see the place that we had at first hated. Day two was a bit more enjoyable, although we couldn’t leave at the original time, due to the horrible weather of the area. After running an errand with the main group, me and two others, feeling a bit adventurous, broke off from the main group and did some exploring ourselves. We had great luck, and by lunch time, we were all seemingly veterans of navigating the city. We rejoined the main group for a tour of one of the famous relics, but we had to evacuate due to the extreme weather. I found myself running for cover from the fierce torrential downpour. It was then that I realized only three others from our group had come with me, and so I was made the leader of our small expedition. We made our was through the city fairly well, and managed to see a few of the other famous sites. But again, as night drew near, we were happy to see our place of lodging.
Early the next morning, we started our long journey home, and it wasn’t til over twelve hours later I was able to see the familiar sites of my hometown.
Now where is it that such fascinating adventures took place? Where was this desolate place, where very few friendly faces could be found?
Why, the capital of the United States of America, of course!
That’s right, I just got back from a trip to Washington D.C., along with Simbathe2nd, MisFishie, mr._randyc, PACERFREAK14,  a few others (like the awesome yolisa18!) and repressedwriter as our faithful guide.
Most of the above is overexagerated. But the conversation was real, and I’m serious when I say that there was hardly any English-speaking locals, none at all that were workers.
But I had a great time. Especially on Tuesday, when me and Simba, along with another friend, broke off from our group.
We were at the Metro, trying to figure out the stupid machine, when a man came up to us and told us he and his family were here on vacation, and today was their last day. They had bought a week pass for the Metro, and they were still good for that day, but he didn’t need three out of four of them. (He had to get back to his hotel using the fiurth.)
That’s right, we got three free day passes.
Free.
Day.
Passes.
Awesomeness.
From then on, we had the best luck ever. We were blessed by a Christian man who liked out T-shirts, we got to see the Luitenant Colonel performing the Changing of the Guards at Arlington Cemetery yell at some kids, we were able to see an orchestra, chill with an old friend of Simba’s, and, of course, we got to ride for free on the Metro.
It was great.

I love watching all those old shows that my parent talk about all the time. You know, they start talking about how shows these days have too much violence, and how they miss the good shows, like MacGyver, or Night Rider, or maybe Hogan’s Heroes.
I thought “What are you talking about? Those sound boring! Besides, nothing beats Law & Order, House, or Heroes!” So my dad rented some of these oldies from the library. Turns out, I only had it half right. These shows definitely weren’t boring. But still, nothing beat Law & Order, House, or Heroes.
All except for one:
“In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. They promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…the A-Team.”
Of coarse, these are the opening line for the show “The A-Team.”
 It’s got everything: Action, comedy, a little bit of romance, and, best of all, tons of explosions! And the cast was great! But what else could you expect with Mr. T as B.A. Baracus.
And don’t even get me started on that van! Not even Xzibit could have done better.
And every episode led up to the moment Hannibal Smith would take of his gloves and say, with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye,” I love it when a plan come together.”
Ah, such a show. “If only,” I thought to myself one day, “this show where to come back. For even just one episode. Oh wait, that would be a movie. But still, it would be one the greatest movies of all time!”
So I started to come up with a cast.
Who would have the schemes, smarts, a gray head that makes up the leader of this elite team, Col. John “Hannibal” Smith
Why, of course, none other than the brains of the “Ocean’s” series, George Clooney!
But who would have Lt. Templeton “Faceman” (usually referred to simply as “Face”) Peck’s wit, charm, and good looks.
Why not Ocean’s sidekick, Brad Pitt? Clooney and Pitt have already proved they work well together, besides, these two names would grantee the movie’s success.
The next character purposed quite a problem: Capt. H.M. “Howling Mad” Murdock. His insanity, odd outbursts, and actor impressions could no doubt be matched by none. Then again, Jim Carey most certainly fits the bill!
But alas! I seem to be at a roed block! Who, in the universe, would have the toughness, the strength, the smile, and the aerophobia of Mr. T’s Sgt. B.A. “Bad Attitude” Baracus?
I could think of none.
And sense I’m repeatedly told I don’t post enough, I’ve turned to you, my Xangans, for help.
Who could replace Mr. T if such a brilliant movie were possible?

I have a theory. I know what you’re thinking. “Oh no, not one of those! Especially not from a Tigah!” (I’m sure you all know of my species’ infamy in philosophical stuff)
But it’s a good one. And, not to brag, but I have yet to meet someone who has found a flaw in it. (But I’m sure most of you will. )
Now, as you may or may not know, I am NOT a morning person. Deep down inside, no one is. I don’t care what you say. No matter what, every morning your alarm goes of anytime before 10:00 am, you have to kill that little person inside you screaming “Don’t do it!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” It may be easy for you, but that doesn’t mean it’s natural.
Anyway, I believe that if everyone’s day started later, the number of problems in the world would drastically reduce. Stay with me here:
The average person’s day starts from 5:30-7:30 am and goes till 10:00-11:00pm.
But I believe if we shifted that time range, say 10:00-11:30am to 2:00-3:30pm, great thing would happen.
First, everyone’s day would start better. You would seem like you didn’t have to rush so much. No one would have that early-morning-grumpiness. All of the working class, like the businessmen (you know, the ones that make all the important decisions), would be happier in the morning, therefore, they would have a better day, therefore, they would be nicer, thus making more people happy. Because they’re so happy, they would make better decisions. These better decisions would lead to making more people happy. On the way home from work, no one would be mad or disappointed in what they accomplished that day. There wouldn’t be many accidents because of the reduction in road rage.
Back at home, the wife would be happier knowing her husband was happy when he went to work. The kids would be happy knowing their parents were happy, which would make the parents even happier. All the hard working dads would be more pleasant went they got home, thus making their family happier. So everyone would go to bed that night…er, morning, really happy, thus resulting in better sleep.
Then it would start all over the next day!
Think! No more road rage, cubicle clashes, frat fights, office outrages, neighboring nitpicking, mad mechanics, enraged electricians, psychopath secretaries, dangerous diplomats…well, you get the point. The world would be better! The possibilities are endless!
But, like evolution, it’s just a theory. (I have a feeling I’m gonna pay for that…)
Anyway, have fun finding the faults! (Hey, I could add that to my list: fault finders…)

(This is for you, Dare2BDifferentt, and your brother. Hope he makes it through all right! )

Do you know a girl that likes you, but you don’t like her. You don’t even want her as a friend. You don’t even want her as an acquaintance. You don’t even want her as that weird girl in the kitchen of McDonald’s that stares at you while you’re trying to give your order. Then these tips,. in no specific order, just might help you.
1) Avoid eye contact. Looking at her implies you care about something having to do with her. If she thinks you don’t care, she might come to realize you don’t care.
2) Avoid verbal contact. Don’t talk to her. If she says hi, just ignore her. It’s best for the both of you.
3) Avoid any type of contact.  Pretend she doesn’t exist. Harsh, yes, but she’ll move on.
If these first three don’t help, and she still persists, take it up another notch.
4) Be uninteresting. If she engages you in conversation, act uninterested, or talk about boring things, like the thrill of accounting, or O.J. Simpson’s trial. One word replies work well, too.
5) Do not be yourself. Find out who she doesn’t like and be them instead.
6) Never say anything nice. You don’t have to be cruel, just don’t give her any compliments.
If these don’t work, then it’s time to take drastic measures. Be warned, these actions will be frowned upon by those who don’t know the situation. Although your closest friends will probably think it’s funny.
7) Be extremely unlikeable. Try to be that guy that sits alone in the cafeteria because he’s a jerk, an idiot, or has mental problems.
8) Give her dirty looks. Seriously, some looks can kill. Hopefully, it will kill the little voice in her head that’s telling her you’re the one.
9) Be rude. Not over the top rude; you don’t want her wanting to end her life. Just plain leave-me-alone rude.
If all else fails, there’s always #10:
10) Tell her you don’t like her.
If not even that works, then congratulations, either you just found the girl of your dreams, or now you have your own personal stalker!

(Perhaps timestamp should be illegal for those of us who don’t get on much and just stamp their most recent post…but I figure there’s gotta be someone out there that hasn’t read this life-changing post. )