Oh ish! Beware:this post not for the faint of stomach.

Blech, I feel crummy right now. I don't really know why. I suppose I've felt crummier in my life and I actually feel better than I did earlier this afternoon. Anywho, enough of this blab. Let's get down to business!

Actually, I think the slight fever I had earlier today has fried my brain and I am no longer able to write an intelligent post. But I wanted to write something because I like to write for the populace. So, my dear populace, what would you like to see me write about. Well, you actually probably won't see me write about it unless you are a creeper.

Meh. Well, maybe I'll get some inspiration later on tonight. Or hopefully in the next couple days. This blogging thing isn't always easy. Especially when you feel like you've got creeping nematodes chilling under your skin. WAIT! Maybe I should write about that...

OKAY PEOPLE! This blog could be seriously taking a turn for the worst. Wait, is the phrase "worst" or "worse?" Oh well. This is the part where the queasy stomach people should turn back. There will be pictures (or just one pic). Consider yourself forewarned. Creeping nematodes are nasty little parasites that I learned about in my Introductory Microbiology class this last semester. My teacher, Rachel Richman, had us watch this cheesy video with horrible reenactments of people getting infested by various parasites. The guy who got creeping nematodes practically died--not from the actual parasite, but from a lack of sleep! He couldn't sleep because his parasite buddies were keeping him awake at night; it was like the itch that wouldn't go away.

Here's a tasty photo of what a nematode infestation might look like. It gives a whole new meaning to the song, "I've got you...under my skin." hehehe

Another guy got this creepy parasite in his stomach called a Bot Fly. He tried to make his Bot Fly parasite his pet. He named it George. Pretty soon though, "George had to go." Ish town. Take away point from the vid--don't try to make parasites your pets.

I really don't know why I am writing about parasitic worms while feeling slightly nauseous. High quality entertainment right here. But seriously, if you'd rather I write about something less disgusting, lemme know, and I will see what I can do.

p.s. I do NOT have a parasitic infestation. Just a bizarre mind and a headache. Till next time, my dear reader...if I have any readers left after this post.

Hey-yo its my Burstday

Dear Reader,

Put on your reading glasses (that reminder's for you mom) cuz today we are taking a trip down memory lane! A lane of memories surrounding my birthday.

Okay, so I was born on this day (May 27th) and it twas a Friday (ha, like today!) and I don't remember much, considering I was born at a very early age. My parents called me Bethany, which is good because that's what all my friends call me (D-Money reference right there). I don't remember many subsequent birthdays, but I do remember one where I had a lot of my little pals over and we danced to that Conga song. I remember my Aunt Mary was there and I also remember being a jerk to my best buddy Victor. Sorry Victor, I'm pretty sure I was a jerk to you a lot. I wasn't the most thoughtful kid.

On my eighth birthday I got cats. Not the Broadway musical, but two real live felines! I was quite pumped about that. I named one Pumpkin and Luke named the other Tiger, but they ended up receiving nicknames because that's just the way we roll in the Johnson household. Tiger's nickname was Nutche and Pumpkin was Boobajottie--yea it's weird, but so am I. Pumpkin was an asthmatic cat who got quite large--up to 25 lbs I believe, which is the equivalent of a human weighing about 300 lbs. Tiger was super chill. One time I "accidentally" pushed him in the bathtub! Sorry Nutche, I was a jerk to you. Sadly, neither one of these cats are alive--probably. Maybe Tiger just couldn't take us and that's why he disappeared. Or maybe an owl got him. I like the owl idea.

Pretty sure that was my last memorable Michigan birthday. The rest of my birthdays happened in Minnesota. Tragically, the teachers of Esko didn't crown us with the glorious paper birthday crown, so I had to leave that one behind. Oh, I take back the MN b-day comment because my birthday at the end of fourth grade was celebrated in Georgia. We went to visit my grandparents down there. I remember staying a night at their place and my Grandma Lucy snored like there was no tomorrow. I was a little worried at times that there would be no tomorrow for her, because she would be really quiet for an eerily long time and then BOOM! She would snore like a chainsaw ravaging the rain forests of the world. It was intense. I also remember receiving a Barbie doll from Grandma and Grandpa Johnson. I think it was supposed to be from Ghana, but somehow I ended up deciding that was the doll's name, but somehow it became Gwanza. She was a fun addition to the Barbie collection. She added a little ethnicity to the otherwise blonde haired blue eyed Barbie population. Unfortunately Gwanza had to play the lady who thought she was Oprah when I played Mental Hospital Barbies. Sorry Gwanza, for being a jerk...

My b-day at the end of fifth grade was a tad memorable. I think I brought our dog, Scamper, to class that afternoon. I also think I was in a fight with my friend Leah at the time. Ironically the fight began because she didn't want to play dogs with me and my other friend Erin. Looking back, I realized that was a silly reason to fight. Sorry for being a jerk Leah. Is any one seeing a trend here?

Okay, I think I broke the jerk trend. Maybe. Let's see, other memorable B-days... there was the birthday that I got a punching bag (maybe to help me not be such a jerk?). Bah I can't think of anything else.


Now I will speak of the present. Today is indeed my birthday and thus far it has been wonderfulous and beautifulous Americas. No, it truly has been great. I worked last night until 12:07 am, so I've already been at work on my b-day, and I have to go back again at 5 pm. No biggie, I've had a good time in between. And I just thought I'd share with my readers The most epic birthday salutation I have ever received. Happy day of my birth to you!

Thickburgers and the like

Yo Peeps. So my dad said I should blog about one of his favoritest things on this whole planet: Thickburgers. These big bad burgers from Hardees are one of my father's Soul Foods.

"What is this Soul Food?" I'm glad you asked. This term was created and introduced to me by a good friend of mine named Matthew Motley. I will try to do his terminology justice as I explain the concept. Soul Food is the food that if you had to choose only a few select foods to eat for the rest of your life, these would be the chosen ones. It's more than just a favorite or a comfort food. It's the food that not only satisfies your stomach and tingles your taste buds, but it speaks to the soul! Oh yea!

So, my dad really likes Hardees. In fact, he likes it so much that he calls it Pardees. I call it "Ummm...can we go somewhere else to eat?" I just can't seem to find much of anything that I like at that restaurant. Except the curly fries. That's pretty much it. My dad however has found many things he likes there: The Original Thickburger, The Bacon Cheeseburger Thickburger, and the Six Dollar Thickburger, which is a misnomer considering it doesn't even cost six dollars! Talk about false advertising! Anyways, if the sandwich has "Thickburger" in the title, my dad has probably tried it and likes it.

What else can I say about my father's great love for Thickburgers. Ah yes, not only has he given a special name to the restaurant, but he's also given a nickname to the burger itself: the Phickburger. This "ph" in Phickburger is similar to the "ph" in Phat. It pretty much means the burger is really awesome. In our family, if something has been given a nickname, it has been deemed pretty awesome. Take my sister-in-law, Krista for example. She knew she had been welcomed into the Johnson clan when she received the nickname of "Krispa" from my father.

I digress. I am probably not the best person to be discussing Pardees and their beloved Phickburgers, considering I do not belove them very much. But I get a kick out of my father's excitement when we are on a road trip and we stumble upon a Hardees at lunch time. I suffer through the agony of Hardees just to hear my father exclaim, "Pardees?!?!?" No WAY!"

Words of Wisdom from my Father

So we're eating lunch, chilling, just listening to a little music from the Baroque Era aka Bach. My Dad then gives us some profound advice: "If you ever write music, write music like Bach did." I guess it's true what they say: if it's not Baroque, don't fix it.

More words of wisdom from Dad coming up in my next blog. The topic: Thickburgers. Till next time readers of the world.

DUDE! Check out my newest favorite thing!

Dude, Reader, Peoples!
I have just discovered something totally awesome that I must shared with y'all: Adventure Drums. I will let him speak for himself. All I ask of you is to watch and laugh.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go whittle myself a pair of drumsticks...

What is Adventure Drums?
What is Adventure Drums--the Outtakes

p.s. Check out some of his drum covers too while you're at it!

More randomness, comin' right up!

Hello World! I thought to myself this morning, "What should I write about today? Robots, turkey basters, mopeds?" But sometimes you just have to let these things happen. And happen they did.

I was just chilling when I realized that my mom had left the TV on in the basement. So I went downstairs to turn it off and one of my most favoritest types of programs was on--the beloved infomercial. And this wasn't just any infomercial, oh no! It was for the Ab Countour. The gist of it is you pretty much wear this big bulky belt while wearing work out clothing and you get ripped. You don't even have to work out! People were washing their cars, eating some dinna (or dinner, for the common folk), and even clipping their toenails! Man, get me one of those!

After some more thinking (cuz that's what my brain tends to do) I decided I should just make my own ab workout belt thingy. I could call it the "ABSolutely Awesome Fashion Lapband" or AAFL (pronounced awful) for short. It would be studded with real fake diamonds and be sold at the low low price of 73 easy payments of $4.95! What a deal! And maybe I'd even throw in a free jumbo sized toenail clipper to the first 25 callers. So call me now to get your AAFL workout belt!

My first post, my first post!

Hello World, or whoever feels like reading the ramblings of BTown Johnson. Shalom, and welcome to my blog. I cannot promise awesomeness, epic-ness, or even consistent wordage, but I will do my best. I can, however, promise randomness.

To begin: I used to have one of these thingys back in junior high, before blogs were big-time. It was a Xanga account, and it was cheesy. I think this will end up being pretty much the same. Oh well, I've given up trying to be cool and now I will just focus on being myself, and that often involves a great deal of cheese.

I must take a brief moment to complain about those goofy verification things that websites make you do. I had to do one of them so I could make this here blog. Here's the scoop: they give you this terrible made up word and want you to type it in to a box. They do this to make sure you aren't a robot or anything else that might attempt to use the computer to create a blog.  Usually the word is something like Getrandaldo or Hectiveliter, or else Ubbicuous. This wouldn't be so difficult, but then they make the font something impossible to read and they turn it sideways, counterclockwise and upside down. Like I said, I had to verify my humanness. It took me about four times, but I eventually got it, considering I'm writing my first post. So rest assured dear reader: I am not a robot. Hey, that reminds me of a cool song! Maybe I'll write about that next time...