whiskey tango foxtrot

Welcome to the whiskey tango foxtrot (no really).

This page is to randomly throw up the absolutely hilarious, completely random or terrifyingly uncomfortable situations I get myself into that are too insignificant to blog about but still worth sharing. If you’re looking for insight, content or just pretty pictures, hit the back button or backspace to go back to the home page.

Dude, you’re kissing a dude*
I was at Beaux Arts last night, and I was mostly there just dancing with Mary Margaret, but I did have my camera. This is a situation that is a photographer’s dream, because you can shoot a photograph of near-naked people (actually scratch that…naked people) and they don’t even care. So since this is such a rare situation, you’re basically trying to figure out what the most bizarre thing you can find is. I kind of happened onto one. Mary Margaret and I are dancing and I notice like three guys making out, and all of them had crazy costumes on. The photographer in me tells me to go forward. I get there and make several frames of this situation, and all of the sudden I realize that I’m nearly in this situation. I’m not a homophobic, but I’m not gay. I realized why it’s nice to be in photographer’s attire, and not a 6 foot tall Sheriff with a foot and a half tall Sheriff hat, a toy gun and handcuffs. In this group, I seem like the gay cowboy. So this was entirely out of my element, as I’m not the gay cowboy, I’m actually just a dude borrowing his roommate’s Halloween costume. Mary Margaret is kind of getting pushed away from me. Then I realize, dudes, you’re kissing dudes and I’m not only too close to photograph it, but close enough to be confused in the haze. So now I’m a cowboy who has not only lost his only defense, the camera, but has also became a fourth element to earth, fire and water here. All they needed was a little wind from this dusty cowboy to complete the piece. Needless to say I fought against the wind and out of the situation.

*In no way am I trying to offend you if you’re gay. That’s fine. I just think this is a funny situation.

Little baby what?
The other day I stepped up onto Mary Margaret’s porch to find an entire…school…of crawfish. They were all in single file rows, and there was probably about 30 of them. The next day I came back and there was a note, that said, “Help us, we’re dying.” I suppose it would be much colder here than where they come from. Mary Margaret said they all ready looked dead to her, so we didn’t do much. She got a text from Jules saying, “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! There’s little baby lobsters on our porch!”

I hadn’t thought about lobsters in a long time.
Glows in the dark too?
All characters’ names have been changed to prevent you from making judgments, you jerks.
The Kernel’s Secret Santa always turns into who can buy the best gag gifts, or the most embarrassing. This year there was a definite winner. Carrot Top came in and brought a very personal gift. He gave Keanu several condoms from his own personal stash. Not only did he give him condoms, but they were glow in the dark.


The best part of this whiskey tango foxtrot isn’t the gift, but the instructions. I was taking pictures of the gift, when I heard Carrot Top giving Keanu instructions. “Now, you know how you have to put it under the light to make it glow, right?” started Carrot Top. “Well, you are supposed to lay it under the light and not put it on and stand by the light.” There was an eruption of laughter, but then I thought there was a question yet to be answered. Instead of directly asking, I would make a joke instead.

“Carrot Top was probably standing by a lamp for half an hour before he found that out,” I laughed.

“Mmm, not hardly half an hour,” he said. “It was too hot.”

Who knew he was fancy?
While on these Pacemaker trips Chris usually treats us to one really nice dinner. This year was no different, and he took us to a place called Elephant-Kastle. I sat at the end of the table with basically the same people I had been hanging out with the whole time, which is ultimately all of those who ran the greatest chance of getting sick this weekend. Elliott sat right next to me. When it came time to order, Elliott played himself up as he usually does. “I want a coke,” he said. “Diet Coke?” the waitress asked. “Oh no, I want a real Coke.” The meal was no different. He held back nothing. All the entrees came with beans and mashed potatoes. Elliott ordered his meal, then said, “I get no beans?” She said it was fine. Then he said, “Can I get mashed potatoes IN LIEU of the beans?”

He must have overheard that in a big-person conversation. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know what it meant on his own.

You ain’t one of those fence riders, are ye?
I left Mary Margaret’s house and went from the back door, because it’s the only door I can lock without a key. I walked down her old, wooden stairs, around her driveway, up the uncut grass and onto her creaky, warped porch to get my bike. A red truck is pulled on top of the long grass. You know the type of truck. The one that is large enough and bright enough to where you wonder if the guy is trying to make up for something or, by chance, he really needs that much truck. A bald head pops out of the door. “Where do you live?” I knew this was coming. Not here I say. “Where do you live?” the bald head asks again. “Um, Curry Avenue.” There was a slight pause. Awkward and long enough for me to enjoy a few thoughts about where this conversation could possibly be going. “You here…visiting?” The bald head asked. “Um, yeah.” I smirked now. I have heard stories of this cat. “You’re here seeing one of those girls right?” I just start laughing. I can’t make it any longer. I’ve heard about how blunt her landlord, who I presume this to be, is. I answer his question, which was yes. “Alright, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t over here seeing some guy or something.” No worries there. But what if I had been? I can only dream of how awkward that situation could have been. Which kind of makes me wish I had changed my answer.

Attack of the adviser:
Last night we were all proofing the last page for the Kernel. I was playing a designer, so I hadn’t read anything. Basically what this means to all you non-Kernelites is that I was standing around hoping to leave soon. I was kind of drifting off into my mind when I heard a crash. I waited. “Did I just hear that, or am I more tired than I thought?” Um, no I heard it again. I looked into Dave’s old office, Jim’s new office, and there was someone trying to come in through the window. With all the aggression that has came out toward the Kernel lately, I wasn’t sure what to do. I stood, and then decided if it were someone trying to break in to hurt someone, that waiting on them to get to everyone wasn’t the answer. So I walked over to the window to investigate, assuming were I putting myself in danger I could always just hit the invader in the face with Jim’s chair. Upon approaching, I could see three fingers sticking through the blinds. “Hey, can you pull the string so I don’t have to go through these things,” the fingers asked.

Jim forgot his keys.
Grandma gets around
As I heard it from Mary Margaret, the nurse:
Chris Miles came to our house the night before he was to leave for Germany for a new job. He was telling us about his job and I asked him where he would be staying. He said with his grandmother. Then I started wondering, well I wonder how old she is. So I asked him, How old is your grandmother? And he looked at me and said, 80. He kept talking, but then I started wondering how active she could be at that age, and wanted to know. So I asked, “Does she get around?” I immediately knew that wasn’t the phrasing I should have used as everyone started laughing hysterically.

Credit this to Keith:
The blog allows me to see how it is being found on the internet. If you find me by searching my name, it shows up in a list. We get some strange phrases though, and Keith kept up with most of them throughout the summer:

– stars with buttocks implants
– photos of thing that move
– “my leg is missing”
– “beef capital of the world”
– decent photos of gentleman
– picture of two people doing the tango
– I have a temptation for you. Come to me
– least curvy route to sequoia
– A lot of animal pictures i can look at
– patchy beard
– stars that use bleaching cream
– whiskey tango foxtrot minus the bear
– myface
– cars stuck in ground, art
– where i’ve been map
– serpentine belt snapped again
– whiskey foxtrot means
– Sure I’m incredibly good looking and dat
– spelling tango foxtrot
– patchy beard fast
– map of the stars
– where i’ve been map
– people take pictures of stars are called
– no rain no rainbows picture
– brown yosemite road sign?
– I fell and hurt my elbow
– is it good to look at stars in Colorado
– best clam chowder in portland oregon
– see wild bears wyoming
– hush puppies road trip
– map of the stars
– just tiny, little rocks
– where i ve been map
– Fame and Fortune spells
– Tango Whiskey Foxtrot?? shirts
– seeing a photo opportunity
– famous movie stars today
– beginning of goodbye
-boys peeing
(You may be able to credit half of the sites visits to hits on shitzus from when Ed told about a guy hitting one on a bike on Whiskey Tango Foxtrot)
– shitzu dog
– shitzu dog cut
– shitzu caring for
– shitzu lion
– baby shitzus
– maltese shitzus
– shitzu maltese dog
– maltese+shitzu
– shitzu uk
– maltese shitzu
– shitzu side image
– shitzus art
– shitzus
– pictures of shitzus

Credit this to Keith:
At Martha’s one time, Elliott said, “I’m going to have my own little section: ‘Commonly mis-spelled words that aren’t commonly misspelled.’ ”
So here it is:

– visualize (told him ‘visuelise’ and he went with it)

– visual (a few minutes after the above)

– enough (“does it have a ‘t’ in it?”)

– sweat

– intrigue

– laugh

– believe

– unfortunately (brad answered)

– “sowwy” (sorry but with a w)

– mystery (brad answered)

– consuming

– inappropriate

– regressing? digressing? (he couldn’t figure out what word he wanted, so instead of using a dictionary he just said “negative progress”)

– possibility

– worst

– miserable

Everybody likes a free burrito:
If you haven’t read the Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Flower Power, scroll down and read that first.
Today I went to Chipotle to partake in free burrito day. The line had roughly 200 people in it or more. Last year they handed out just shy of 4,000 burritos. Now of all the free burritos being made and all the people coming through the line, how would I end up right behind hippie Jack and his girlfriend? I had to spend an hour and a half next to them. I didn’t say a word, and used my blacked-out Oakleys to my advantage in staring him down but not having to feel obligated to speak. I was ready to tell him the room was taken though. From the moment I saw him chaining his bike up (yeah, still riding that trick-bike) to the moment he walked past me in the restaurant, I ran my lines through my head.

Party like he wants to:
My roommate, Ryan, is a little messy. All through high school we kidded him about living out of his car. He really could. Even now he’s still living on the legacy of having everything he needs in his vehicle at any given time. My roommate, Joe, told me a story that exemplified just that:
Joe, Ryan and possible third party were leaving the other day and Ryan volunteered to drive. Joe had to sit in the back seat and was shuffling Ryan’s belongings (and probably a few others) around so he could find somewhere to sit in Ryan’s small hatchback. Finally, Joe gave up and just sat on a few of the things in the seat, which included an Xbox and a bit more than Joe expected. After they began moving down the road, Joe noticed there was a birthday cake in his seat.
“Ryan, do you know there is a birthday cake back here?” Joe asked.
“No. What in the heck are you talking about?” Ryan replied.
“Um. Well. There is a birthday…in your backseat,” Joe confirmed. “What in the heck are you doing…with a birthday…cake… in your backseat? Who has a birthday cake in their backseat and doesn’t know about it?”

Flower Power:
I put an ad in the Kernel to find a roommate because one of mine bailed on me too late to get any of my friends to live with me. So we have been having people come to the house. The first one was the best. Joe and I were outside passing football when I see a guy coming down the lane. I immediately begin to pray it’s not him. He is riding a wheelie on his BMX bike with his girlfriend who is in a skirt and has that red, hippie hair thing going. He stopped in front of our house and begins calling someone. I just started talking to him and it was the guy, Jack. He had either lost his razor six or seven months ago or the guy didn’t notice the mess that was hanging from his face. He had those long black thug shorts on and on the back of them was an Icebreakers gum wrapper stapled to them. Before he even gets in the front door he is ready to move in. “Yeah man, this ain’t bad.” He never even walked in the room that he would be moving into. He was sold in two minutes. I asked Jack how old he was, and he said 25. I said, “So are you a student?” He says no, he just wants to live near his girlfriend. We ask him what he’s doing then, and he says he goes to a lot of “festivals”. Sometimes he just drives up to New York for shows. I’m sure he meant rides his bike, because I told him he could park his car in the back and he said he didn’t have one (or a job). Joe and I nearly lost it when his first and only question was, “Do you guys like the Grateful Dead?” Um, you asked that before how much is the rent? Sorry, hit the road Jack.

Off to the wrong start with the left foot:
Today was the first day of classes. I was completely prepared today. I actually woke up two hours before I even had to be to the Kernel so I had time to get my coffee in and find out where my classes were and all that preparation jazz. With two classes down and one to go, I was walking in the general direction of my class when I realized the tiny piece of paper I had written my class schedule on had fallen out of my pocket. I frantically stopped and went through my bag. No paper. I quickly paced back to the Kernel basement where I logged onto the computer to look up my schedule. The site had changed since I used it this morning. UK sure does like throwing loops to its students, like changing how you view your info the first day of classes. So after about 3 minutes of exploring I had figured it out, scratched it onto a piece of paper slightly larger than the last. As I was leaving a girl started asking about buying a camera. I quickly gave her a sales pitch for my 20Ds and my phone number and in an almost jog I headed in the direction of my class only five minutes after it should have started. I circled the whole area, only find myself covered in sweat. I never found the building and decided it was better to not show up at all than show up 25 minutes late, covered in sweat from the 97 degree heat breathing heavily and smelling like a wet dog. So I walked back to the Kernel, only to find the original tiny piece of paper in my other pocket.

Stale Brain:
I’ll be honest. If my parents do not have a lot of house work for me to do, for example mowing grass, fixing the patio or building something, then I don’t have much to keep me occupied. So I end up watching more TV than I do all school year. I rent a lot of movies. I don’t watch much TV so I don’t know the big named movies to rent, so I go by whatever people tell me. Sometimes it works out and I get a good movie like Donnie Darko, Shooter or Lucky Number Sleven. Other times, I get a movie like the one I watched tonight. Folks, I don’t care how cool you think murder mysteries are, or how cute you think Jake Gyllenhal is, or how much you just like seeing San Francisco, the movie Zodiac sucks. This film falls with Requiem for a Dream, Children of Men and Notes on a Scandal in a category I call, “I would rather punch myself in the face than watch this film again.” Go ahead, rent away. But you have been warned.

Unfortunate events:
Keith sent me a text telling me that he had left his tent supports in Ed’s bag and realized this after he had already entered a park and begun to set up camp. Immediately, my first thought was, “Well will be an interesting blog.” without ever once thinking about what Keith would do to get shelter for the night. The blog has not only taken over my life but caused me to wish for unfortunate events to write about.

Safety first:
posted by keith
We were about to walk out the door to take a trip to Los Angeles; we were just waiting on Ed to fill his water bottle. Without warning, he started saying, “We’re not wearing gang-neutral colors! We’re not wearing gang-neutral colors!” in a fake panic. And for a couple of seconds, he had me going; I momentarily thought, “Crap, he’s right. We need to change shirts,” before remembering we weren’t very likely to end walking through any gang territory.

Of more death and life:
If you remember the first Whiskey Tango Foxtrot of Martha saying how expensive the obituaries are here, this will be hilarious:
Keith and I were giving Elliott a hard time and he said, “You guys are going to feel bad when we go back and I kill myself.” And Keith said, “Well at least the obit will be cheaper.” Elliott returned, “Yeah, hanging myself with a Canon strap.”

Potty mouth:
Our trip to LA was really uneventful. Sections of Griffith Park were closed, the modern art section of the County Museum was closed and almost all of the good parts of the LA zoo was closed. Almost.

We were shooting these giraffes when this started happening:
bloggir1.jpg bloggiraffe2.jpg bloggiraffe3.jpg
The sniff. The drink. The why-did-I-do-that?

Sense of place:
We were cruising our way through LA this afternoon on our way to an airplane hangar-sized music store and were stopped at a red light in “Historic Filipinotown.” Across the street from us was the Puppy Store, which “Specialized in Maltese and Shitzus” and had “Many toy breeds available.” Keith looked at the store, read the front, and asked, “Is that a restaurant?”

Suffocating on Salvation:
Blurb by Ed
The way we did things at my church (before I stopped going) was, when the time came, everyone would line up and walk to the altar to eat the Jesus crackers the priest gave you and drink grape juice out of the same cup as the 20 people in front of you and the 50 people behind you. But smaller churches seem to have a higher sense of cleanliness. At Dave’s church, which has around 60 people on any given Sunday, they pass around one big cracker for everyone to break off their own piece and a tray of tiny, shot glass-like plastic cups that are filled with about a half an ounce of juice so that everyone can have their own portion and not have to drink every one else’s backwash. I had seen this method used before, but had never taken part in it until I came here. Today was my second time taking the saintly shots, but judging from my execution, you’d think otherwise.

I took the tiny plastic chalice and threw it back. Immediately my chest began to spasm. The grape juice had taken a wrong turn at my esophagus and, instead of heading for my stomach (or soul, if you will), the liquid went right to my lungs. I tried to fight the coughing fit as my lungs began contracting uncontrollably, but nothing worked. I was making small, disturbing noises that caused Elliott to look over, confused and entertained. Then I lost it. I started coughing, trying to be a s quiet as possible while trying to free my airway, and at the same time trying to stop myself, but the whole situation had made me start to laugh. The entire church was silent as they reflected on the gift they had so graciously received, except of course for me since I was choking on the blood of Christ and laughing about it.

Casa de thefto:
This morning Martha went with us to breakfast to Case De Lago, where we had been told had amazing French Toast. Yes, Mexican place with French Toast in small town America. Whatever, doesn’t matter. This Mecca of Mexican food sits right across from our office (above Big-O-Tires). While we were eating we looked over to notice that the door was opened. This happened right as our food was hitting the table, so we all wanted to eat, not go see if someone was making off with a G5 (expensive computer). I said I couldn’t catch a thief, that I had flip-flops on. We agreed that we would just tell Chris Poore, our advisor who loaned the computer to Dave, that since I had flip-flops on we let the thief go. Ed smiled and calmly said, “I guess we don’t have to make that book.”

Cellebrating Technology:
We were driving to Yosemite through what had appeared to the rest of us as natural, and untouched land (minus the road we were driving) and talking about something as insignificant as whether or not we liked the explosion of flavor the new Trident gum has. Ed interrupts and says ,”Speaking of which, what’s up with this place disguising their cell phone towers as trees?” and points out a metal tower with branches attached to it.

Plant your corn early:
Most of the time when we go camping we like to stay out until dark shooting pictures which means coming back late and setting up camp in the dark. This was the case one night in Yosemite and Ed had decided to knock out before the rest of us to be ready to get up at 4:45 to hike a mile and shoot the sunrise. Keith, Elliott and I were totally ignoring quiet hours and just talking around the fire about camping and hiking in general when the voice of an absent Ed called out from outside the view of the fire light. “Here’s a tip for all you kids out there. Don’t put the middle of your tent on a stump.”

Geographical Oddity:
When we were traveling to Yosemite most of the towns we went through were no larger than a few hundred people (one sign said the population was 1 1/2; this brings up enough questions to do an entire blog about whether or not a population can be so tiny that they begin to count half a person. This also brings up the question of how one becomes half a person and whether that person is half alive or half dead. I guess it depends on your personality and how you see half a glass of water. But all of this is neither here nor there.) The tiny town of Pierpoint is definitely what you could call a one horse town. We didn’t see any horses while we were there, but I’m pretty sure if there had been a horse around it would have been tied up to the only business in town. In one building you could find a coffee shop, restaurant, post office, motel, realtor, grocery, bar and contractor. All of this was advertised through separate signs and as if it were self sustaining.

Uh, Hello?
We were shooting by the wharf when about all of the good light was gone so Ed and I (Brad) were making our way back to find Keith and Elliott. As we came by the entrance to the wharf a pay phone was ringing out into the crowd and no one seemed to notice it except Ed and I. It was as if the pitch was designed to be too high for any of the other ears around and Ed and I were supposed to be the ones to take care of this phone call. Wait, could this be God calling? Ed had to know.
“Hello?” Ed said.
“Uh, hi. Is this Papa Johns?” the unsure voice on the other end asked.
“Um. No. This is a pay phone,” Ed explained as clearly as he knew how.
“Oh, um. I think I have the wrong number,” the faceless voice answered, as if he thought Papa Johns may be playing a prank on him.
“Yeah. I guess so. See ya,” Ed said, as if he actually would ever see this person, or even interact with this person again.

Always Be Prepared:
Transcribed by Brad as told by Ed
“So I was walking down the bike path over by the wharf and this lady walked by me with her little dog, a shitzu or something. A few seconds later, this biker comes past me too, going at a medium pace. A few seconds later I hear, “Oh $#!+, Jesus!” and I turn around and the dog’s leash got tangled in the guy’s bike crank. He was thrown from the bike, and the bike is flopping around and the dog is flopping around. I just looked at it, and turned back around to keep walking.”
“You didn’t shoot a single picture?” all three of us.
“No. I just laughed.”

Caring for Hygiene:
I (Brad) was sitting next to Keith on a couch at Caring for Cameras when a little boy, let’s call him Emmanuel, comes up to sit next to Keith and I. He was very polite and quick to want to learn. He started a conversation with us immediately.
“Hi. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Keith.” They shook hands.
“Wow Keith! Your skin is baby soft.”

Museum Learning:
As Keith saw it
Our trip to the Reagan Library in Simi Valley produced not one but two Whiskey Tango Foxtrot-worthy experiences. The first was a tour guide who obviously didn’t usually work the Oval Office replica was just filling in for someone. She monotonically talked about the room in vague terms as if she didn’t know that much about the room, but the best part was when she was talking about the furniture in the room. “These are mostly replicas in here,” she said. “Each president and first lady can choose how they want to furnish the Oval Office, and somewhere they store all of the furniture that the presidents used, dating back to George Washington or so.” Oops. Since the Oval Office wasn’t added to the White House until 1909, I bet George Washington never got to coordinate the drapes to the sofa in the Oval Office.

Later, when we were looking for pictures outside, two girls were running around the flower bed in the replica of the White House south lawn. “Come on girls, let’s go to the gift shop,” their mother yelled. “Are we going to get anything?” one of the girls replied, which the mother apparently didn’t expect. “Uhh, no,” she said. “Then why are we going?” the little girl asked. The mom went straight for the standard parent reply, the one that doesn’t answer the question but effectively ends the debate: “Because I said so.” And the girls fell into line on their way to the gift shop.

Lion King:
While watching Animal Planet a show about the survival of a young wildebeest plays back and forth between survival and death through separation, starvation or predators. The narrator plays the pessimist every time, probably just to keep you around for commercials. “The calf is nearly a year old, but won’t last long on his own,” he said. Without missing a beat Elliott follows up with, “Well, not with that attitude.”

The Mighty Mississippi:
added by Keith
Someone commented that the photos on the wall in every Chipotle are the same regardless of where you are, but Brad — the resident Chipotle expert and connoisseur — said the photos are different on this side of the Mississippi River. I jokingly said, “Yeah, and the toilets flush the other way, too.” I expected to be rebuffed, but instead Ed turned to me and, dead serious, said, “Yeah, that’s weird.” Then he paused, realizing I was still talking about the Mississippi River and he was thinking of the equator.

“Reading is for girls.”

Of pride and prejudice:
One of our favorite things about California is how people are completely fine with just walking up to you and talking to you. People ask what you’re doing because they’re interested, not because you’re bothering them. 90 percent of the time people are cool about our story and think it’s interesting. Every now and then you meet someone who’s pride of California is about as obnoxious as the stereotypical racism in Kentucky. This was the case when we met a lady who told us she lived in Bowling Green for two years. “Oh, yeah?” we all said. “Yeah I hated it and wanted to move back.” We wanted to say, “Well we hate Bowling Green too ma’am.” But we couldn’t before she went on to say, “I’m sure you guys have noticed but we have diversity here. We have Hispanics, (she looks around at the black people standing nearby) and just a lot of diversity, and it’s not a big deal.” Um, excuse me? Kentucky isn’t the state running out all of our immigrants and making national news for it. We didn’t have a chance to comment on that either. She went on. “And I’m sure you guys have seen this because you’re young and traveled (meaning we’ve graced ourselves with this trip to California). What’s up with all the men in Kentucky? They think that because they’re old they have wisdom over the women. I mean, come on. We stopped that in California 30 years ago.” You know what, thank you! Now we can go back and preach the Californian gospel and change the ways of all those old tymers. By this point no one was interested in discussing this lady’s inflated opinion of our home. As soon as she left her husband walked up to great us and said, “Man. I love Kentucky.” Wait, what? “I mean, if she were to die tomorrow, God forbid it, I’d be in Kentucky next week.” Um, OK sir. We don’t really know you and aren’t familiar with your sense of humor. We didn’t know whether to laugh or not, but we did. He didn’t.

It’s a nice day for a white wedding:
We were taking a break at the office, looking at photos Dave shot at one of our friend’s wedding and talking about how complicated and expensive weddings can be. “Weddings aren’t a big deal in my family,” Brad said. “We just throw some bird seed, eat cake, and we all head to Gatlinburg.”
Note: Keith posted this, so don’t think Brad is lame for talking about himself in the third person.

Guacamole is extra:
We were eating at a Chipotle in Ventura — where we’ve gotten some pretty badly wrapped burritos — when Brad claimed the Chipotle near UK’s campus is the best one in the country. We then started talking about taking a road trip to every Chipotle in America to find the best one. “We’d need a Chipotle-mobile,” Brad said. “A big burrito on wheels.” He paused. “We could just get an old VW bus and cover it in aluminum foil.”
Note: The same note above applies here. So go read that one, then pretend I wrote it here instead. Go ahead, read it; we’ll wait.

Book problems:
“So I guess we should start this book,” Keith said. “But I’m going to be honest, I don’t know anything about making a book.” We all get quiet and look around. “I guess I’ll open InDesign.” The best part is he didn’t even get it. He opened up a Nikon Supercool Scanner or something.

Of death and life:
Martha is reading the paper and says, “It’s amazing how many people die everyday. Even more amazing how many people pay the $1,000 dollars to have their picture put in the paper (in the obituaries).” Keith asks if it’s really that much, and she says yes. Elliott says, “Jeez, makes you not want to die almost.” Keith stops and says, “Did you want to before?” And Elliott looks to him very seriously and says, “Well now I don’t want to out here.”

Yard work:
Martha wants us to help her cut a few branches away from her house. Dave gave us a reciprocating saw to do it with, which is hard to use, especially for tree limbs. Someone has to stabilize what you’re cutting. So that’s a two person job. Then Martha says, “The ladder is old, so make sure you have someone holding it.” Elliott turns to her and says, “Well if we’re all doing something you’re going to have take pictures.”

Elliott just asked Keith if the word “enough” had a “t” in it.

Thoughts on health:
Martha was telling us what she brought in from the grocery store and as she goes down the list: chicken, lasagna, lasagna, ice cream… Elliott interrupts and says, “Did you pick up a treadmill?”

From our office:
We were all at work to work on the Picture Kentucky book and no one was talking to each other when Elliott says, “I think I want buttocks implants.” He never looked up from his computer and never smiled.

While at the pier:
I framed a nice photo from behind a park bench where a guy was sitting looking at the ocean. There was an American flag blowing in the wind at the end of the pier. The light was nice and it made for a decent picture. And then my subject stood up and whipped out a light saber before running at a group of beach wanderers.

Only in Ojai?:
We were following Dave to a lookout and he points to the left to show us a truck but we all, except for Elliott, look to the right to see a girl riding her bike with no hands and flailing her arms about in the air. As we pass we notice she has no top on. All she wore was shorts, a scarf and tape. No shirt.

Pawn shop music:
I was playing my guitar yesterday and Tucker looked at me and said, “Can you play Old McDonald?” I told him no and then played it. He said, “Maybe you should play it on Elliott’s guitar. It would probably sound better.”

Getting tattoos in inappropriate places:
We were driving through downtown Ventura on Main Street when we all four looked over at the same time to see a girl jerk a guys pants down (too far) and begin applying a temporary tattoo to the prior covered area.

Look to the left!:
In Yellowstone all you have to do is stop and look one direction with a camera and everyone pulls over immediately as if bear-man-pig is waiting around the corner to gobble you up and steal your soul. This was the case around one blind curve where the road was blocked so badly it seemed it could only be a bear. When we got close enough we saw that it was just an ugly mountain goat. Elliott hangs out the window and yells, “Look everybody, it’s a freaking moose!” to mock those who left their vehicles in the road with doors open to see the insignificant site.

It makes sense, I guess:
Elliott was telling us a story about one of his friends, cousins or something and said, “His girlfriend has a kid, and he married her!”

When we were at Lou’s in San Francisco Elliott ordered a chicken salad with no cheese. It came with cheese and he sent it back. This started a discussion about Elliott’s allergies and he told us he’s really allergic to fish. He tells us he needs to have an Epi pen stabbed in his heart to keep his throat from swelling so much that he suffocates. Half an hour later he’s sitting in the hotel room struggling with each breath and sure that fish touched his food. “What do we do?” Ed asked. “Just call my mom.”


5 Responses to “whiskey tango foxtrot”

  1. I thought Elliott’s spelling might get better, apparently not. Don’t want to hear (or see) any buttock implants. Remember El, I had you when Tom married us. I was his “girlfriend with a kid”. The Epi pen that I carry does not get stabbed into the heart, just the thigh. However, in the emergency room for a cardiac arrest I have seen it shot (not really stabbed) into the heart.

    The writing and pictures have been so much fun to read and see. I hope you guys are being safe. Before you leave maybe you can take Martha out to dinner. You could leave her flowers and a card signed by all of you, that way you won’t have to worry about forgetting it when you get back home. Just food for thought. Keep having fun. Brad, maybe on the way home you can work on El’s spelling if he will stay awake long enough. Momma Becky

  2. Elementary History Teacher Says:

    Eh … white house was built 1792-1800 (just a few years after the Constitution was ratified in 1789), captured by the Brits in war of 1812, burned and rebuilt, etc. Thomas Jeffferson chose the architect.

  3. Christen Says:

    Maybe the half person was just a torso with a head. Which would be awesome because then I would have a reason to tell all of my quadriplegic jokes (like I really need a reason).

    Actually that would really suck for that person.

  4. I can’t believe I’m reading this instead of the assigned text for my afternoon class.

  5. […] *Not worthy of blogging, this event spurred a whiskey tango foxtrot. Click here to read. […]

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