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Cameronjonesgr
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Name: Cameron
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Metro: Grand Rapids
Birthday: 1/8/1982
Gender: Male
Interests: I am a biology nerd. I like science more than anyone I know. I also love helping out with the Rochester College girl's basketball team. I don't do much, but its still fun.
Expertise: I specialize in chilling.
Occupation: Medical
Industry: Research
Message: message me
AIM:  camj3113
MSN: cameronjonesgr
Member Since:
2/3/2004
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| Face it pal, this is one of your big dreams. Although, this isn’t the kind of dream you have as a child. This dream develops as a result of a culmination of bad experiences with women and sea wild life.
You reminisce back to your PETA loving, save the whales, hippie girl friend. She left you in 1991 for Stan because he had a pet ferret. You see, Stan didn’t shove his ferret into a small little plastic ball and kick him around the house like you did with your two dollar teddy bear hamster. “Stop being mean to the hamster,” she said. You never thought anything of it at the time, at least, not until she left you for Stan.
You think back to the time of you middle school trip to Sea World. You think of sitting in the front row of what seemingly seems to be a harmless whale show. Then all of a sudden…SPLASH…Shamu soaks you with the very water he defecated in an hour ago. Now you are walking around Sea World with that tuna and pee smell for the rest of the 80 degree summer day. Good field trip teacher. Good trip.
Those two experiences, losing your woman to a ferret jock and a Shamu soak can really change a man. It is at this precise moment, while you sit there and reminisce, that you SNAP. You want revenge so bad you can taste it. Mostly because you ate a tuna sandwich a half hour ago and a little piece of tuna is dangling between your buck teeth. But that little coincidence, the tuna between you teeth, only strengthens your resolve to settle the score between you and the wildlife of the sea. You have to punch a baby Orca. You have to punch one today.
Unfortunately Sea World won’t let you waltz right in, anytime of the day, and punch their Orcas. Knowing this little fact, you should grab your credit card with the highest limit and buy a ticket to Alaska. Once you get to Alaska you are going to want to leave the airport and find the closest igloo. Feel free to walk right in. You know if the Eskimo was really concerned about security issues he wouldn’t live in an igloo. People could just break in with a hot iron. You won’t have to say much to the Eskimo. Just ask him “Do you have a boat?” He will look into your eyes and see that glimmering look of disdain. The Eskimo has been around a long time and this won’t be his first experience with tourists wanting to go “whale punching.”
He won’t speak much. He will just say, “To my boat.” You don’t take offense to the lack of small talk. You know from your Encyclopedia Britannica that most Eskimos don’t speak much because they are worried about their saliva in their mouth freezing their lips together.
In a matter of minutes, he will drive you to the Alaskan cove where most of the local baby orcas are born. The water is freezing but you don’t care. As the Eskimo pops in the Free Willy sound track he winks to you. You know what to do from here. You dive in and start swinging. Today you punch your first baby Orca.
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| Today is the day, hot shot. You are going to kick off the New Year with a
tattoo. All your tough guy friends have
one and even some of your lady friends have them. You, feeling like the odd man out, would like
to do the old tattoo shop hepatitis dare.
Being the man that you are, you find anything new exceedingly hard to
commit to. You know that you want one,
but not one that is going to cost you your Wal-mart greater job. Something subtle is the key. Willing to live with being the semi-tough guy
in the group, you opt for a small star on your ankle. Good choice Nancy. Good
choice.
Now you don’t want Butch, the 300
pound tattoo artiest, to think that you are some weird weakling who is trying
to fit in with his friends. God forbid
that Butch looks at you like some kind of freak. What you’re going to do before you psych
yourself up for your girl ankle star tat is spend a solid 100 dollars at the
local grocery sticker machine because it dispenses temporary tattoos. After you purchase your 100 bucks in
temporary tattoos you need to go home and apply every single one. Although, you have gained a little weight so
200 bucks might be a good idea to cover your mid-section (which you refer to as
your “Pleasure Zone” and that just freaks everyone out.)
Cover your body from head to toe in temporary tattoos but leave a small
space open on your ankle. When you go
into the tattoo parlor Butch will see you and instantly admire you. He will say “Yeah buddy, those tattoos are
hardcore!” From here, all you need to do is expose your
ankle and Butch will proudly give you a small star tattoo to cover the only
skin left showing on your ankle. Do
yourself a favor Susan, try not to cry. Apparently, you have done the tattoo thing
hundreds of times before. Head home and
scrub off those temporary tattoos and make sure you take some time to sit down
and admire your new star tattoo. Today
you are the tough tattoo guy.
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| Welp, it’s been awhile. For those of you who are wondering; yeah, my new job is cool. I think that’s all I can tell you.
The other day my friend says "Yo, have you seen all of those Lego sculptures in the mall of America?" I say "yeah..." he says "It’s amazing, you know they do that all by hand!" I just started laughing. "Duh...dumby." I mean, if they had some Lego guy in there doing it all by foot. Then I would be thoroughly impressed. But I am not surprised that someone put it together with there hands...not one bit surprised.
My same friend, who is notorious for making dumb remarks started saying "You heard bill lost his entire right arm in a printing press?" I sensed something dumb about to come out of his mouth again....I start snickering and say "yeah.” He turned and said to me "He had to learn to write all over again with his left hand." I was cracking up. I say "Of course he had to learn to write with his left hand. You just told me the guy completely lost his entire right arm. Unless he has a double jointed shoulder blade with an opposable thumb I doubt he will do much at all with his right side anymore." I say all of that to say this "If I was decapitated and had to re-learn anything like tying my shoe all over again. I don't know if I would be up to it. That crap was hard enough the first time around I don't think I would even care the second time around. | | |
| Gentlemen start your engines and by engine I mean American Indians. You know…the bow and arrow pat your mouth and scream kind. I don’t mean the elephant riding, save that tiger, red dot type Indians. Actually, I don’t mean that AT ALL.
I was at church tonight and an older gentleman asked me, “What is your five year plan?” I didn’t know I was supposed to have a five year plan! The fact of the matter is that I don’t even have a five minute plan at this juncture in my life. I am going to really have to sit down and think about this one folks. Hmmm. | | |
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