A Year in Review

I know I've been a poor blogger for the better part of six months now.  It's just that I've been so busy not writing blog posts, that I haven't had any time to produce new material.  Anyway, check back tomorrow and I'll share my New Year's Resolutions, and I promise, one of them will be to blog more in 2009.

--

For now, I think it's best that we take a step back and enjoy the year that was.  I think you'll agree that 2008 was the best year in Drawing Board history.  You enjoyed* 119 posts this year.  Here's the best of them.

* You probably didn't enjoy them.  You probably didn't even read all of them.  Indulge me.

• American Gladiators returns
• Jesus didn't use powerpoint
• I played video games all Saturday night
• I ate ten pancakes and felt like I was going to die
• The greatest post in the history of the Drawing Board
• Someone wanted to kill me
• I eloped, basically
• I ate tuna for fifty days in a row
• I got nothin'
• This happened
• I announced my resignation at Calvary
• I'm a no-good, slow-moving son-of-a-bitch
• The most transformative day of my life - I just didn't realize it then
• I got pulled over
• This happened - again
• Crap fell on my house
• I rode a bicycle from Chicago to North Dakota

A Homage to a Great Man

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to volunteer at the Catalyst One Day event when it came to South Bend. Essentially, it featured a couple of famous pastors speaking about church strategy. The fantastic thing about things like this is that famous pastors are almost never famous by any real standard of fame,* although a number of people seem to mistake them for rock stars.

*As far as actually famous pastors go, I came up with this list: Joel Osteen, Rick Warren (maybe), Billy Graham, and then Jim Jones. So, it's really a toss-up about whether that's even a good thing to be.

Anyway, this post isn't about that, and it's certainly not a homage to Craig Groeschel or Andy Stanley.

--

Every once in a while, a man gets to live the dream. A few weeks ago, I had that opportunity. Unfortunately, it was someone else's dream.

I was given a special task. I had to go to Krispy Kreme at like 6:45 in the morning to pick up the conference order - 47 boxes of glazed donuts. I wish you could understand the aroma that they left in my car for about a week-and-a-half. I'm serious. The air in the car had the caloric content of a half-gallon of whole milk.

And so I come to the Drawing Board today to pay tribute* to the man whose dream I lived, while he merely dreams of living. May you be so fortunate one day, my friend.

* Check the labels, dude.

--

I've always wondered* how a person might be perceived as he was ordering such a quantity of donuts. How would people look at me? What would they think? Would I be judged? Would I be revered?

*Not really.

But most of all, I wondered what exactly the cashier would say to me. Then she said it.

"Can I get you anything else today?"

47 dozen donuts? That ought to do it.

I wish I would have had the foresight to have asked for about four gallons of milk, 12 rolls of toilet paper, an hour-and-a-half in the corner, and an insulin enema.

Mountain T.O.P.

Most people wouldn't decide to move across the country on a bicycle. Most people wouldn't decide to move across the country on a bicycle a mere three days after they're going to be on a mission trip for a week, leaving them only two days to figure out all of the crucial details surrounding a trip across the country on a bicycle. I have never been accused of being most people.*

*I've also never been accused of murder or arson or most felonies. I was accused of stealing a mouse ball when I was a junior in high school. I was told I would have to serve detention, but refused to go since I had not stolen the mouse ball. It went back and forth, me and the assistant principal and the people in the Attendance Office - them giving me more detention for not going to detention, me not going to those detentions. One day, in the middle of the whole ordeal, I was named a National Merit Semi-Finalist and that was all the ammo I needed to just tell the guy to shove it.

I'm ready for the New Mexico trip, and am prepared to live for two months on only what will fit on a bicycle. So, when I packed for this eight-day mission trip, I packed light. I figure I will only need 13% of what I will need in August. This makes packing easier.

I packed deodorant, a toothbrush, some old clothes, a bar of soap, and a wretchedly uncomfortable (but miraculously light!) sleeping bag. On the list of things I didn't pack: a razor, shaving cream, hair product, shampoo, SPF, face wash, etc... This can only mean one thing. Look for to the patented "Aaron Helman Resembles a Boy Band Member but Only if that Boy Band Member Was some Sort of Hobo"* look to begin before the bike trip is even nearly planned.

*All Rights Reserved. (c) 2008.

See you in a week.

I Got Warned

Only a week earlier, Paul and I were headed back to the forest when I received a call from Drew Shepherd.* He was concerned because he had just driven by the church and had seen several police cars on the property. We hauled back there every second as fast as we could to see what was going on. By the time we arrived, most of the “several” cruisers had departed; still we were greeted by a policeman and a conservation officer.

*Drew throws a Frisbee more precisely than any human I've ever met. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

I approached cautiously, and asked what was going on. I explained that we actually lived back in the forest, and then we were told that maybe it wouldn’t be a real good idea to go back there at that point. Apparently, the police were on a manhunt, and they were hunting a man who had escaped into the woods!

That’s my home!

Neither of the officers had reason to expect that the man was at all armed or dangerous. That was before I informed them that a pair of axes, a machete, and my throwing hatchet were at the campground. That seemed to pique their interest.

Regardless, they set back toward camp to hunt this fugitive from justice. Paul and I were instructed to wait at our cars. Then we had the thought together – what if this dude comes out of the forest while the two cops are inside of it? No time for words to be spoken; sandals and jeans came off. Running shoes and shorts went on. We were going to have to catch this guy ourselves.

It never happened. We didn’t see anything or anyone. About an hour later, the officers came back, reported essentially that they hadn’t caught the guy yet, but that they were leaving for the night. We could do what we wanted.

We stayed in the tent, me, clutching a throwing hatchet.*

*I am actually really good at throwing hatchets. Unfortunately, this has never worked as a pickup line. Yes, I've tried.

I Beg of You to Repeat That

I sat at home Saturday night, ordered Chinese, and watched the Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee. Yes, your gut is right. This is a "Reason I Will Always Be Single."

Reason #58 I'm Glad I'm a Dude

Shaving your legs is a hassle. I learned this last night.

My father is mortified right now.

Don't Be Ashamed, Friend!

I popped over to Starbucks the other day for the launch of their new blend - Pike Place Roast. It's actually pretty good. A hint of caramel, reminiscent of the Espresso Roast, but smoother and less intense.

You don't care about that. I barely care about that.

--

I read something funny while I was listening to my mp3 player. The thing about headphones is that they often leave you unaware of the volume of your laugh. Apparently I was laughing really loud.

--

I was plotting my escape from the place when I noticed a pretty-looking young woman reading Blue Like Jazz.

I read Blue Like Jazz! I've got a conversation starter! Go for it!

So I did.

Me: That's a pretty good book.
Her: Oh. Yeah.
Me: Have you read any of his other stuff?
Her: Um, you might not know this, but you were laughing like a crazy person earlier.
Me: Oh. Um, I'm really sorry about that.
Her: It was really, really annoying.

Explanation for My Extended Absence

Um, the weather got nice. So instead of sitting at my computer writing the love story that is you, me, and this blog; I've been outside doing the following things:

• Throwing Frisbees in the direction of pretty girls, hoping this will somehow spark a conversation. It doesn't.
• Watching people navigate the Indianapolis Canal Area with gyro-scooters. Wondering what's so bad about walking.
• Wearing bike cleats and spandex shorts at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places.
• Acquiring a lobster-like sunburn across my shoulders. I'm very excited by this. My shirts feel itchy.

I Shot Myself in the Eye with the Cork from a Bottle of Wine

Kids, listen to your parents. Alcohol is dangerous.

Just like Red Rider BB Guns.

Why I Can't Make a Move on a Bank Teller

They seem friendly. They're always nice to me. Sounds good, right?

But they also know exactly how much money I have.

Ouch.

Jeff Lynne Saved My Life

Jeff Lynne was the lead singer for the Electric Light Orchestra. This will be important later.

I had a date a couple of years ago. And if that sounds like the most pathetic sentence to start a blog post with, then there you are.

Anyway, I had a date a couple of years ago. It was not a love connection. We did the dinner and a movie thing. No real chemistry, but nothing out of the ordinary. She was a nice girl.

I did think it was strange that when we walked into the restaurant, they were playing Evil Woman by the Electric Light Orchestra. I thought it was strange later when I heard the tune in the bathroom at the movie theater. And it really struck me as odd when it was the first song I heard on the radio after the date was over.

--

She called me about a week later to find out why I never set up a second date. Let's call her tone confrontational. I was nothing but honest, which led to this dialogue.

Me: I heard the song Evil Woman like three times during our date. It struck me as an inauspicious start to a relationship.
Her: Did you just call me evil?
Me: No, Jeff Lynne did.
Dialtone: Doooooooooooooooooooooooooooot.

I Just Ate Ten Pancakes and Now I Feel Like I'm Going to Die

I know that this is off-topic, even for a blog that doesn't have a topic. But I ate something just shy of a dozen pancakes, and now I'm sitting at my desk and I feel like I'm going to die. It's not like I'm new to pancakes. But I did it just the same and I feel like I'm about 90 seconds away from being bloated into oblivion.

Back to the Drawing Board...

--
Updated: I added the "Kind of Gross" label.

Updated again: I added the "Reasons I Will Always Be Single" label.

Super Bowl Sunday

I had a good weekend. I rectified a few things.






Updated: I added the "Reasons I Will Always Be Single" Label.

When to Shut Up

At least I know why I'll always be single. It's because I'm kind of an idiot. The following is the precise transcript of a conversation I had at the 56th Street Starbucks today. I started talking to a cute blond girl, we exchanged pleasantries, and then this happened:

ME : So what do you do?
HER: I'm a waterfront monitor.
ME : So you're a lifeguard.

And that was the end of that.

--
Updated: I added the "Reasons I Will Always Be Single" label.