Armpits, Torsos, and Photos

The following 6 photos have a theme...

I was successfully and easily cropped from each of those pictures. Some time ago, one of the above people commented, "Hey, I needed a picture of myself. I found one of us and just cropped you out. You're really easy to crop." I'm not sure what the appropriate response is..."thanks?" or ..."you're welcome?" In any case, here are the pictures from which I was successfully cropped...

Christmas 06

Christmas 08

Shanon's Wedding

New Braunfels Thanksgiving

Badminton Tournament 07

Paul's and Heather's wedding.

Recently, I needed a passport-size photo of myself. I thought, "No problem, people say I am croppable, this will be easy." I quickly realized this whole croppable thing does not work in my favor. Each time I found a picture that could be cropped and used as a passport-size photo, my face was neatly framed by armpits and torsos...

Armpits and Torsos '06

Armpits, Shoulders, Hand '08

Armpit, Torso, Antlers, the UPS Store

Armpit

Torso and Shoulder

Armpit, Hand, Face

Torso

Armpit and I look naked

I realize I could try to zoom a little closer and eliminate some pits. The problem is that at a certain point zooming becomes awkward. You become a floating face like the kid in the yearbook that was clearly absent on picture day. No one wants to be that misproportioned huge-face kid everyone laughs at when reminiscing about the past. Alas, I guess I will choose to embrace the armpit and torso face-framing, and be grateful that my friends have nice pits.

"He pooped his pants."

I have several friends that have pooped their pants. This thought occurred to me as I was jogging last week. A nice green porta-potty sits at a construction site that I pass when I run. I always think, “If I had to really go and couldn’t make it to the house, I could go there.” It’s kind of a safety net if you will. Last week, the potty was gone. I didn’t need to go, but panic hit anyway when I thought, “What if?” That’s when I started thinking of my friends that, at some point in their adult lives, have pooped their pants.

Now, before you start judging my friends, or decide you do not want to become my friend for fear that you too will someday poop your pants, please know that most of my friends who have pooped their pants have had valid parasite-induced excuses. In fact, most of my parasite laden friends acquired their parasites on mission trips to regions relatively unreached by the gospel. In this case, pooping your pants becomes somewhat honorable. “Wow, you’ve pooped your pants? That’s awesome! I hope I poop my pants someday…” As fun as it would be, I am not writing to tell their names and each of their ridiculously hilarious stories. I am more intrigued at the moment by the actual phrase, “He pooped his pants.”

The phrase itself makes me laugh. About 10 years ago, the word “in” was dropped from the statement, making it exponentially funnier. To say someone “pooped in their pants” is just gross and leaves you wondering why the person made such a socially unacceptable decision. However, to say someone “pooped their pants” instantly turns the situation comical and demands the entire story be recounted to an eager audience. The verbage is just funny. Obviously it would be biologically improbable that someone would literally poop their pants. That would raise serious questions about the digestive inefficiencies of the person involved, and it would certainly not be a joking matter. However, it is, in my opinion, totally funny to use the phrase to explain that someone has accidentally, for some hysterically inappropriate reason, failed to utilize normal sanitation facilities, and has instead, pooped in their pants.

“He pooped his pants.”

It’s just funny.

Becoming a local

After a recent trip to Colorado, I found myself contemplating the possibility of moving to Winter Park. Obviously, in order to enjoy the move it would be imperative to buy new clothes, learn the lingo, and fit in with the locals. I started considering things that would need to change.

First, I would be forced to purchase a Subaru Outback.

I am both fascinated and confused by the popularity of these Subarus. I’ve always thought of Colorado folks as being adventurous and rugged outdoorsmen, so the abundance of miniature station wagons was very confusing. I did some research. Apparently, this Subaru thing has all-wheel drive, exceptional ground clearance, and the flexibility of a hatchback. Ok, but it’s still a station wagon. You can throw a ski rack or a bike on top and manage to look a little cooler, but in the end, it’s still a station wagon.

However, I would far prefer a station wagon to this:
We arrived in Denver after dark and were assigned the rental car in space 3-E. We laughed that we got stuck with a PT Cruiser, but we didn’t realize until the next day that it was pee yellow. People in Winter Park laughed out loud as we rolled down their Subaru saturated streets. A little old lady outside the ski shop literally giggled as she asked, “Is that your car?” Rude.

Secondly, I would have to make major improvements in my skiing abilities. I like to think of myself as the kind of skier that loads up a camelback with Red Bull, drops from a helicopter, and launches myself from perilous cliffs while X-Games commentators rave about my unbelievable skills. This is simply not the case. I’m convinced that my incredibly fast and reckless skiing causes everyone to assume that I’m wearing an IPod blaring, “Welcome to the Jungle” as my personal ski soundtrack. However, my friends assured me that based on watching me ski, a more accurate soundtrack would be similar to a jack in the box wind up toy. Da doo da doo da doota de do... Rude.

I’m not sure how to improve my skiing abilities while I am still in Texas. I thought about turning on the treadmill really fast on a huge incline setting. I could throw on some rollerblades and face downhill. I think it could work.

Finally, if I want to fit in with the locals, I would need to start smoking pot. I’ve never been a fan of the idea, but fitting in is a big deal. There are obvious benefits in the athletic world (see also blog 11/15/08), and it would probably be beneficial during my Texas treadmill ski training. We’ll see.

Despite the PT Cruiser ridicule, insensitive skiing criticism, and people’s prolific use of marijuana, this was probably my favorite Colorado skiing trip ever. Chad and Shanon, you are so amazing to let us stay for 4 days! I really enjoyed getting to hang out with you guys. Jason and Cheryl, it was great to see you, and thanks for the ski hook up. Andrew, fun hanging out, we’ll see you when the snow melts. Cody, I heard you are like crack-cocaine to youth groups. I guess that’s a compliment. Awkward, but a compliment nonetheless. Marc, fun trip. Great idea. I’d do it again. Oh, by the way, the camper picture was not Chad and Shanon’s house. This is their house and their super cute kid:

Thanks everyone! You guys are awesome. Maybe I'll be a local someday!

-Kim

(disclaimer: I do not condone the use of marijuana or cocaine or any illegal substance. I was simply making observations. Drugs are bad. Do not do them.)

Say What?

The following are statements that recently made me laugh. There were more, but I can't remember them. Anyway...

“Mis, are you Irish?”
“Well, yes, was it my fair skin that made you think that?”
“No. Hairy arms. I saw your hairy arms.”
(5th grade Hispanic boy talking to the Sub…who is also my roommate.)

“So I had to go to the bathroom really bad, but I wanted to see the pumpkin carving demonstration, so I peed in my pants.”
(Robby…who is currently living on our couch…explaining why wet his pants in Kindergarten.)

“If the thought of kissing him makes you want to throw up, then he’s probably not the one.”
(One roommate giving dating advice to another roommate.)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“Uh, well, it’s uh, when uh, it’s….”
(My response to a 5th grader)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“Oh just some surgery baby boys have. Who wants to read next?”
(My response the next class period)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“You don’t wanna know man… you don’t wanna know.”
(6th grade boy blurting out his answer to his friend’s question)

“So Jezebel died when some people chunked her out of a window and she plummeted to her death.”
(I said that in class today)

The End.

I will explain.

Documents were recently declassified which detailed my involvement in a particular branch of the United States government. Until this time, I have not been allowed to speak freely about my time spent serving our country. I was part of an elite team created primarily for the purpose of extracting political prisoners from territories hostile to the American government. I was recruited as an 18 year old and left for training the summer after my senior year. Of the 5,000 females recruited, only 8 were eventually selected to train and serve on this team. We trained with the Navy Seals, Special Forces, and the Israeli Mossad. We had specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, advanced weaponry, and reconnaissance missions. We were non-military agents serving alongside both the American and Israeli military. Many times, our role was to spend several weeks living in a particular area, gathering information, and preparing the groundwork for prisoner extractions.
After 3 years, our team was compromised and held captive in an undisclosed country. Our escape and the events that followed have been the subject of international investigation for the past 9 years. During the process, my identity was eventually revealed and it became clear that my time as a special agent had come to an end. Details mentioned in the documents have caused concern among a number of family members and friends.

I am writing primarily for those of you who have known me for some time and have been made aware of this new information. I have heard some of you express that you feel somewhat betrayed, as though I’ve been lying to you for the entire duration of our friendship. I would like to assure you, the person you currently know as Kim Berry is who I am. Whatever you know about me is true, our friendship is real, and nothing that I have portrayed is a lie. I have, however, omitted any connection to my former service simply because, until now, it was classified information. As more documents are released, I will be free to discuss in more detail my involvement in various situations. Thank you for your understanding, and I look forward to answering your questions.

(I just wanted to explain why I miss exits on the freeway all the time. Sometimes I am a street kid who became an Olympic athlete, sometimes I save planes that are hijacked, but most the time I win Survivor and interview myself on talk shows.)

My Brothers

I don't have time to write, but I love this picture from Christmas. I think it's hilarious that all my brothers were willing to take this picture. It wasn't even my idea. It was so fun hanging out with everyone!

Friends and Rivers. (episode 1)

I love my friends. I have been blessed beyond measure by the friends God has placed in my life. The following is the first in a series of blogs that will intermittently explain why I love my friends.

Episode one occurred last weekend.
Location: New Braunfels.
Friends: Marc, Drew, Kimo, and Erin.
Setting: a river, a cliff, and a Volkswagen bus.

Marc drives a Volkswagen bus. I like having one good friend who owns a VW bus. Its just fun and it makes me, by default, really cool. However, if you have several friends who own VW busses, you are probably a weirdo.

We loaded up in the bus and headed to the cliff by the river. Wading across the river is freezing in December, but fortunately this time the water was really low.

Then we hiked to the cliff and and rappelled for a while. It was totally fun.

I’m not a fan of heights. I like adventure, but I hate heights. I also hate snakes. As I was rappelling down the cliff, I got to a section of rock that is covered by this thick green vine stuff. Just as I kicked off the rock, a huge red, black, and yellow snake slithered right where my feet were. I freaked out. Fight or flight gets really confusing in a situation like this. I could let go of the rope and plummet to my death (flight), or land on the snake and risk death by poison (fight.) Instead I just stayed on the rock screaming, “There’s a snake, there’s a snake, there’s a snake!” I realized that when it comes down to it, I don’t give a crap if red and black is a friend of Jack. I’m not hanging around long enough to find out. I’m pretty sure I rappelled faster than I ever have in my life.

Anyway, I love my friends because they are fun. I love that we can load up in a bus, go to the river, hang out, and laugh. I love that sometimes we can be deep and serious, but other times we can jump off of rocks or laugh until we hurt. Yep, I love my friends.

Ok, caption contest. Both of these pictures need funny captions. Any thoughts?

First picture, Kimo and Erin.

Second picture, Drew and Kim.

Please share your ideas. :)