Plethora

Happy Birthday Lindsey

They say it’s your birthday
Happy birthday to you.
They say it’s your birthday
you’re gonna have a good time.
Ect.
I love you Linds. Have a bodacious day cause now you’re no longer a teenager. I looked it up, it is really hard if not impossible to have a bodacious day as a teenager. Not sure how that worked.

Add comment August 25th, 2004

First of many…

Today was a bad day for Bryce VS The World.
It began well, I woke up, went to the Spur office, got to work. Chit chatted with Rohan. Dan Vierck showed up. Ate with Ryan and all was well in gumdrop land.
Then a cloud came over my precious sun and enter Debbie into Spur office. As I worried about the blind one tried telling me how to run her old position. She wasn’t offering advice, she was telling me which stories to cover. Bryce no me gusta mucho.
Conversation:
D: Say, Bryce, are you going to cover the olympics at all?
B: I wasn’t planning on it. At least not this issue.
D: What? It’s the olympics.
B: Debbie, you yourself have even said to leave national issues alone, stay school related. Plus, I have schedules to print, and I have to do the Athletic Director story as well as preseasons for all sports.
D: So, you’re not even going to do a medal count?!
B: Debbie, do you wanna just be sports editor then? …
D: …
B: [back working]
D: Are you at least going to do a story on “waaaa waank wank wa wa waaaa” (name I can’t remember)
B: Who’s that?
D: (rolling eyes, which is quite the feat for a bling person) he’s coming to talk to the athletes as part of orientation, he wrote the Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul books.
B: No room.

It was tense after that till she finally left. The only witness to this was Eliza who also got chewed out by the gremlin and she later said that she agreed with me and Debbie’s stupid.
What can I do?
She is going to try and control that editor position till the day I die. I’ve been good so far, not rubbing her nose in it, but it’s war and dammit, I’m Rambo.
…Stay tuned for part 2 of “First of many”

Add comment August 19th, 2004

It’s Funny Really

Playing in what’s become a twice a week occurance everyone tries for the Top Three Places, otherwise known as: In the money.
I am streaky as a poker player, I am emotional. When I’ve been feeling it I’ve won four out of five tournaments and when I’m not feeling it and have no confidence I have been the first one out of the tournament in four straight tournaments. If I get reraisied and I’ve been bluffing I get frustrated and will go “All-in” and they’ll quickly call. Boom, I’m out like Ellen Degeneres.
On Saturday (August 7th) we played, nothing out of the ordinary, but if you would’ve told me I was going to get second place I would’ve believed you but how it happened would be beyond me. I’m not saying anything that terrific happened, I’m just saying if someone would tell everyone how they placed before the tournament happens it would be very shocking. Lindsey, also streaky, placed second to last. That would’ve been hard to believe.
My point is, It’s insane to think, “what if I would’ve known this before it happened?”
I’m getting to the “Meat” of the post, for now I’m just kind of “coasting”.
Fast Forward to Sunday the 8th of August. The Rausch’s (Dan, David, ect.) are all gone, some at work in Sioux Falls and others on vacation near Alexandria, MN. Therefore I must read for David.
If you would’ve told me what I was about to do as I went out for the “Greeting” as commentator’s do, I wouldn’t have believed…well, I would’ve but I would’ve done anything in my power to prevent it. Including taking that cynide pill I keep in my “Dick Tracy” watch.
“Welcome to the ______th Sunday of Ordinary time. Today’s mass intention is for _________. Please welcome FR. RAY and Fr. Jim…Fr. WILFRED and Fr. Jim with out entrance song number ________ _______.”
I stumbled to my seat trying not to role my eyes so hard that it kills me. I go into my empty pew and feel and I mean FEEL everyone’s looks. I feel like a whore in church…who came naked or something. Everyone staring, shaking their heads muttering, “Poor Bryce, what a ridiculous idiot.”
Fr. Wilfred and his posse strut to the front of the church taking their usual places and Sue (also a reader that day) stands next to the now shaking Bryce, and just smiles the type of smile you give a homeless man who just got raped by a dog. The type of smile that says it all, I feel bad, but damn, that’s funny.
Fr. Wilfred declares to everyone that his name is NOT Fr. Ray it’s Fr. WILFRED. He once again mentioned my error at the homily and then gave me a hug at the “sign of peace”.
Now I’ve made plenty of jokes while reading at church. I also like to imagine that there are an equal amount of people out in the church audience that shudder and cheer when they see I’m reading, hoping, hell their in church, maybe even praying for a joke, or maybe praying for no jokes. But as much as everyone laughed at this one, I’d take it back quicker than the “Grammy’s” took back their award from Milli Vanilli.

Add comment August 12th, 2004