What Grinds My Gears

Ya know what really grinds my gears, folks? When you figure out that your dad smells better than you do. I'm not sayin' I stink... I'm just saying, "You smell terrific." [A quote from Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, for all of you anti-quoters out there] What is the key to his success? The secret: Hollister man-perfume.

When you hear the name Hollister... what do you think of? Teenage girls wearing too much makeup? Flip-flops? The beach? California? Most kids my age [13-14] associate Hollister with American Eagle, Aeropostale, and Abercrombie as the "cool" clothes. But not ONLY does Hollister sell clothes. You are also able to purchase $15.00 flip-flops, $100 fur lined jackets, AND cologne/perfume. If someone could clone a beach and put it in a bottle, that's what it smells like. Almost indescribable. And once you smell it; there's no goin' back. Unfortunately, this elixir of life doesn't come cheap. Forty bucks even. That kind of cash doesn't really come my way often... unless I save up the five dollar bills I get from the grandparents every holiday. I need a loan...

And that concludes What Grinds My Gears.
~Hollister-Ash

Shop Class For Dummies

In school I get great grades and I have made on Honor Roll every quarter for over two years, although, Shop is not one of my best subjects. In sixth grade, I attempted to make a "can crusher"[which is practically pointless when you have a dog like Dozer to do it for you] and the wooden assembly pieces have been laid to rest in the back corner of my closet. In seventh grade, I tried making a wooden race car... and almost made it! All I needed was to attach the wheels ,and as I was nearing the finish line of completion, my car came across a serious "road block" in the form of a non-protective backpack. Thus: broken.

Discouraged, I was not looking forward to this year's quarter of girl punishment. Then, a few weeks into the quarter, our Tech. Ed. teacher told us what we would be working on: a gumball machine lamp. Now most people wouldn't even bother working a gumball machine into a lamp, but after all, we aren't most people.

We organized the classroom's unwilling recruits to form an assembly line for all of the wood works. Sanding, staining, polishing, drilling, routing, checking, gluing, screwing[not the sick kind, either], and other crap I hate. Luckily for me, the manly guys in my hour excitedly helped me through it. But sure enough, here I am with a B-E-A-U-TIFUL finished project.
All's well that ends well.
See ya,
Ash

The Amazing Soloist...ME!

"Well LA DEE FRICKIN' DA! We got a musician in the house!" That's what Matt Foley [The motivational speaker] would say to me if he heard about my Hey Jude solos at the 8th grade MS Christmas concert. Which were brilliant, might I add. Our band director really does challenge our bands, but I'm glad because he's taught me so much about music. But don't get the wrong idea here, I'm not "in love" with my director. In case you haven't heard, my director is a little... different. [Not that there's anything wrong with that, not at all] Examples:

• He gets regular perms, but is in his fifties
• We have visual proof that he owns pink hair curlers in his desk
• He and his wife "W" have been spotted several times [by me on my way home from school] jogging in matching yellow spandex jumpsuits. They could secretly be crime-fighting superheros for all I know
• He's involved in some different form of karate/self-defence, wearing [again] black spandex Capris, with his curly, bushy white hair pulled back with a hairband

If that's not enough for you, TOO BAD. I'm sure there's more, but unfortunately I have secured my brain in it's box for tonight. So on a happy note: Get offa' your computer chair, go buy some pink hair curlers or some spandex and wear them to work tomorrow, in loyal representation of him. That is all I ask from you people.