Guy 18: So lookwise...Maybe...Maybe not?
Guy 19: No. Lookwise you two look great together.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Eavesdropping
17: So I met this guy in my elder's quorum presidency and he is just so cute and funny and great...
*OFF LISTENING IN THE DISTANCE*
25: Good to know what's important to her...
*OFF LISTENING IN THE DISTANCE*
25: Good to know what's important to her...
Eavesdropping
84: Okay, here are your results back from the test.
16: Oooohhhhhh... That is not how I wanted to do. I didn't even study guys! Don't judge me!
16: Oooohhhhhh... That is not how I wanted to do. I didn't even study guys! Don't judge me!
Eavesdropping
1: What were they doing?
15: Studying Spanish.
1: It didn't look like they were studying Spanish.
15: They were studying the gift of tongues.
15: Studying Spanish.
1: It didn't look like they were studying Spanish.
15: They were studying the gift of tongues.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Eaves
1: Grrr, he won't just leave me alone.
14: Well, you do know what a husband is right?
1: What're you talking about?
14: A husband is a stalker who succeeded.
14: Well, you do know what a husband is right?
1: What're you talking about?
14: A husband is a stalker who succeeded.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Eavesdropping
Prof: What's a random fact about yourself?
12: Uh, I've had a passion for UFOs since I was eight--ya know with the fiery chariots in the scriptures,there has to be a real way that God travels.
12: Uh, I've had a passion for UFOs since I was eight--ya know with the fiery chariots in the scriptures,there has to be a real way that God travels.
Eavesdropping
12: Hey where were you in class last time? I saved a seat for you and I was thinking we should hangout sometime.
1: Who are you?
1: Who are you?
Eavesdropping
11: I saw her husband and I was like, well you may have married her but I was her first kiss.
Eavesdropping
10: I'm feeling a different energy coming from you. I'm good at noticing energies in people.
Rambling the first
Song
"Keep it loose, keep it tight" Amos Lee
So once upon a time there was a girl named A. Clingo...
Welcome to my ramblings. I was one of those weird kids in school that didn't do journals too well, but I did write a few hundred to a thousand pages of what I saw and thought. It seemed to keep me sane when the entire masses seemed to have snapped. But then again, if you think everyone else is insane and you're not...there's a problem. If you think everyone else is insane as are you ...welcome to earth.
So I've been considering different things of late, particularly the ideas that surround judgment, compassion, and free will (yeah laugh it up. I'm getting philosophical here). With my background and experiences, I tend to be very realistic and sarcastic, but I also can't help seeing the sufferings in this world and wish I could help those who experience such monstrosities.
What brought this on was myself considering my older memories. At one time, I was speaking to an old friend about the plight of humanity and how I wanted to do all I could in my lifetime to help change the world and such, to which he abruptly informed how I was wasting my time. He told me there was no point to it, for no matter who I helped there would always be others--so why even try? Thinking about this, I realized that I didn't care about changing the world. All you get out of that is being recognized in history books when your dead, and as exciting as that sounds...
But at the same time, I did begin to consider what exactly were my motives? Was it recognition on the world stage? That sounded perfectly ridiculous to me. No. In fact, when another friend was traveling to Mexico and different reservations to help build schools and help in orphanages, she told me in strange tones about how she wanted to improve the conditions of the orphans and give them opportunities to succeed in life and the whole shabang. But when I asked what the individual orphan's names were or what they were like, she could barely answer, nor could she tell me about anyone in her own neighborhood that possibly needed assistance. I realized that I had suffered from a similar disease of thought. I wanted to "change the world" with no thought as to helping inspire and lift the individuals who survived in that world, and those in my direct path. I came to the conclusion that there are two forms of compassion, both useful but the second more worth carrying.
The first involves the overall structure of politics, of war and peace, of economics, and education. People are simply check-off points on a list of a philanthropist's desire to change the conditions of each pencil marking on that paper. This compassion is necessary. Without it, we wouldn't have the service projects that help the starving children and adults all over the world. Without it, schools wouldn't be built. Without it, the world's countries couldn't have survived after the World Wars. Most compassion is built upon this foundation, a desire of importance to influence and feel that lives have been changed because of the philanthropists existence--and most likely those lives wouldn't be the same without it.
The second, on the other hand, is useful, not always necessary, but also the most important. It's the compassion that comes in the sincerest forms of tolerance, the ability to laugh at one's own imperfections and others, love for each individual, a desire to befriend those in the dark and not be afraid, the true compassion that comes from using the most horrible experiences in life to help change the life of another individual, the love of simply talking and sympathizing with those who struggle around us in our own areas of residence, and the ability to laugh and forgive all the offenses that come to us. The first form of compassion makes us send out money to the suffering, but rarely enter those dark places where the suffering exist. The second form makes us go to those dark places without fear and worry more about the people than the action.
In my observations of the people around me, yes I do enjoy poking and laughing at the strange behavior that surrounds me. But at the same time, there is no reason to subjugate those people into a single arena of hateful thought. People need to recognize the behavior that surrounds them and laugh, have opinions of those actions, but the actual people should never become a fair game of hate.
This is where judgment comes in. From time to time, I've been told that I'm far too judgmental, which I sometimes agree with, I can always improve of course. But at the same time, it is those who don't use their judgment properly who are in more serious danger. People behave differently in different situations, simple enough. And very few people are filled with the sole desire to offend and destroy those who they come in contact with, instead they usually wish to be accepted. The idea is this second form of compassion is necessary to separate people from actions--Love for the people but not the action. We need to observe the actions of others in order to improve ourselves and decide what we want to be. No one on their own accord can gain an impeccable character. If that were the case, we'd all have our own world all to ourselves. But we are meant to observe and decide what we want to be, for we can't experience everything. I personally have no desire to do drugs because of its influence on my friend's lives. I didn't have to experience it myself nor do I have any ill-will against my friends, but because of their actions on those drugs, I have a great amount of ill-will against drugs and alcohol, among other things.
This judgment forms our character. I, myself, am thoroughly disgusted by certain behavior. But I do not hate those who decide to subsist on this behavior. Yes, I do not agree with it, but I do not hate those who make those decisions. People ought to have their own free-will to choose when it doesn't affect the legal laws they live under or the individual lives of those around them. No one should be forced into doing what they don't want to. End.
"Keep it loose, keep it tight" Amos Lee
So once upon a time there was a girl named A. Clingo...
Welcome to my ramblings. I was one of those weird kids in school that didn't do journals too well, but I did write a few hundred to a thousand pages of what I saw and thought. It seemed to keep me sane when the entire masses seemed to have snapped. But then again, if you think everyone else is insane and you're not...there's a problem. If you think everyone else is insane as are you ...welcome to earth.
So I've been considering different things of late, particularly the ideas that surround judgment, compassion, and free will (yeah laugh it up. I'm getting philosophical here). With my background and experiences, I tend to be very realistic and sarcastic, but I also can't help seeing the sufferings in this world and wish I could help those who experience such monstrosities.
What brought this on was myself considering my older memories. At one time, I was speaking to an old friend about the plight of humanity and how I wanted to do all I could in my lifetime to help change the world and such, to which he abruptly informed how I was wasting my time. He told me there was no point to it, for no matter who I helped there would always be others--so why even try? Thinking about this, I realized that I didn't care about changing the world. All you get out of that is being recognized in history books when your dead, and as exciting as that sounds...
But at the same time, I did begin to consider what exactly were my motives? Was it recognition on the world stage? That sounded perfectly ridiculous to me. No. In fact, when another friend was traveling to Mexico and different reservations to help build schools and help in orphanages, she told me in strange tones about how she wanted to improve the conditions of the orphans and give them opportunities to succeed in life and the whole shabang. But when I asked what the individual orphan's names were or what they were like, she could barely answer, nor could she tell me about anyone in her own neighborhood that possibly needed assistance. I realized that I had suffered from a similar disease of thought. I wanted to "change the world" with no thought as to helping inspire and lift the individuals who survived in that world, and those in my direct path. I came to the conclusion that there are two forms of compassion, both useful but the second more worth carrying.
The first involves the overall structure of politics, of war and peace, of economics, and education. People are simply check-off points on a list of a philanthropist's desire to change the conditions of each pencil marking on that paper. This compassion is necessary. Without it, we wouldn't have the service projects that help the starving children and adults all over the world. Without it, schools wouldn't be built. Without it, the world's countries couldn't have survived after the World Wars. Most compassion is built upon this foundation, a desire of importance to influence and feel that lives have been changed because of the philanthropists existence--and most likely those lives wouldn't be the same without it.
The second, on the other hand, is useful, not always necessary, but also the most important. It's the compassion that comes in the sincerest forms of tolerance, the ability to laugh at one's own imperfections and others, love for each individual, a desire to befriend those in the dark and not be afraid, the true compassion that comes from using the most horrible experiences in life to help change the life of another individual, the love of simply talking and sympathizing with those who struggle around us in our own areas of residence, and the ability to laugh and forgive all the offenses that come to us. The first form of compassion makes us send out money to the suffering, but rarely enter those dark places where the suffering exist. The second form makes us go to those dark places without fear and worry more about the people than the action.
In my observations of the people around me, yes I do enjoy poking and laughing at the strange behavior that surrounds me. But at the same time, there is no reason to subjugate those people into a single arena of hateful thought. People need to recognize the behavior that surrounds them and laugh, have opinions of those actions, but the actual people should never become a fair game of hate.
This is where judgment comes in. From time to time, I've been told that I'm far too judgmental, which I sometimes agree with, I can always improve of course. But at the same time, it is those who don't use their judgment properly who are in more serious danger. People behave differently in different situations, simple enough. And very few people are filled with the sole desire to offend and destroy those who they come in contact with, instead they usually wish to be accepted. The idea is this second form of compassion is necessary to separate people from actions--Love for the people but not the action. We need to observe the actions of others in order to improve ourselves and decide what we want to be. No one on their own accord can gain an impeccable character. If that were the case, we'd all have our own world all to ourselves. But we are meant to observe and decide what we want to be, for we can't experience everything. I personally have no desire to do drugs because of its influence on my friend's lives. I didn't have to experience it myself nor do I have any ill-will against my friends, but because of their actions on those drugs, I have a great amount of ill-will against drugs and alcohol, among other things.
This judgment forms our character. I, myself, am thoroughly disgusted by certain behavior. But I do not hate those who decide to subsist on this behavior. Yes, I do not agree with it, but I do not hate those who make those decisions. People ought to have their own free-will to choose when it doesn't affect the legal laws they live under or the individual lives of those around them. No one should be forced into doing what they don't want to. End.
Eavesdropping
9: 1! How's your family doing?
1: Good.....
9: So are you dating anyone?
1: No, I'm just focusing on school. I have every intention of going to law school among other things.
9: Wow. Those are rather high ambitions.
1: Yeah...?
9: But don't you ever want to get married?
1: Good.....
9: So are you dating anyone?
1: No, I'm just focusing on school. I have every intention of going to law school among other things.
9: Wow. Those are rather high ambitions.
1: Yeah...?
9: But don't you ever want to get married?
Eavesdropping
1: Hey haven't seen ya for awhile, whatcha up to now?
9: I'm just preparing to get married now.
1: Cool, who is it?
9: Oh I'm not dating anyone, I'm going to -----.
1: Uh huh, what're ya majoring in?
9: Family and consumer sciences, I'm thinking it should help me prepare for the future.
1: Right.
9: I'm just preparing to get married now.
1: Cool, who is it?
9: Oh I'm not dating anyone, I'm going to -----.
1: Uh huh, what're ya majoring in?
9: Family and consumer sciences, I'm thinking it should help me prepare for the future.
1: Right.
Eavesdropping
8: I think I'm in love with this guy.
1: Sweet. What's he like?
8: He's tall and has beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile and...
1: So what's he like?
8: Uh, I just told you.
1: What's his personality like?
8: He's funny and really cute, I'm in love with him. I want to marry him.
1: Right. So what's his views? How does he think?
8: I don't know! Geez, I've only gone on one date with the guy.
1: Yup.
1: Sweet. What's he like?
8: He's tall and has beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile and...
1: So what's he like?
8: Uh, I just told you.
1: What's his personality like?
8: He's funny and really cute, I'm in love with him. I want to marry him.
1: Right. So what's his views? How does he think?
8: I don't know! Geez, I've only gone on one date with the guy.
1: Yup.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Eavesdropping
5: "I'm majoring in Early Childhood Education."
1: "Yeah, I plan on going to law school."
6: "Yeah right. Why would you do that?"
1: "Uh...because I want to."
6: "But its not like your going to work, you're a woman."
1: "Who says women can't work?"
6: "Well my mother, sisters, and sisters-in-law don't work."
1: "Well my grandmother, mother, and all of my sisters except for one work."
6: "Uh huh."
1: "And where are you going to school?"
6: "----------"
1: "And what are you majoring in?"
6: "I don't know yet."
1: "Yeah, figured."
1: "Yeah, I plan on going to law school."
6: "Yeah right. Why would you do that?"
1: "Uh...because I want to."
6: "But its not like your going to work, you're a woman."
1: "Who says women can't work?"
6: "Well my mother, sisters, and sisters-in-law don't work."
1: "Well my grandmother, mother, and all of my sisters except for one work."
6: "Uh huh."
1: "And where are you going to school?"
6: "----------"
1: "And what are you majoring in?"
6: "I don't know yet."
1: "Yeah, figured."
Eavesdropping
4: "Do you need some help with those groceries?"
1: "Uh, yeah sure."
4: "Sowa, did you go to Walmart?"
1: "Hmmm, no. Actually I'm a big environmentalist, I like to save up all of these plastic bags and use them over and over each time I go to any store."
4: "Tha-that's cool. The environment's pretty great."
4: "So where are you from?"
1: "Antarctica."
4: "Oh, wow. Are you parents scientists or something."
1: "Yeah, something like that."
1: "Uh, yeah sure."
4: "Sowa, did you go to Walmart?"
1: "Hmmm, no. Actually I'm a big environmentalist, I like to save up all of these plastic bags and use them over and over each time I go to any store."
4: "Tha-that's cool. The environment's pretty great."
4: "So where are you from?"
1: "Antarctica."
4: "Oh, wow. Are you parents scientists or something."
1: "Yeah, something like that."
Eavesdropping
Prof: "Colonization caused deep strife within nations."
2: "Didn't British Colonization sorda help India?"
Prof: "How"
2: "Since Indians learned English, they can now help their economy by working in call centers."
2: "Didn't British Colonization sorda help India?"
Prof: "How"
2: "Since Indians learned English, they can now help their economy by working in call centers."
Intros
Welcome one and um...one to my ridiculously useless blog. Simply, one day I was talking to one person, then to another, and another, and another, then to myself, and finally to a strange bird that flew into my windowsill (into not onto). I figured before I crack up, I might as well entertain myself with the greatest and most least expensive entertainment the big guy upstairs has offered us...observation. I'm one of those realists that enjoys spending useless hours wondering how anyone ever wrote those economics and psychology books, because I'm still attempting to meet a truly rational person (even when I look in the mirror every morning). So before you begin, understand that perhaps everything but most likely nothing I write is real, it all depends on your perspective. And most uselessly important, don't take anything too seriously.
Need for Speed
After many intense seconds of informal training, severe enough to seem like actual years of practice, the three competitors triumphantly march their way up the winding slope. After trudging uphill for a quarter of a mile, and a quick squabble, the participants take their places on the sidewalk. Jace, with her new goalie gloves her mother just purchased—now worn through with holes from today’s previous attempts—will be the “braker.” Lolie will be the “observer” from the central seat, holding the string to the steering pole in case anything might go wrong—but that is not possible considering the immaculate training just performed. And finally, A. Clingo will be the “driver,” with her hair pulled back and eyes concentrating on the goal. This colossal hill seems menacing, but even if most scooters or rollerblades can’t handle it, the calculations of these three children prove there won’t be a problem for an immortal, large red wagon with four gigantic wheels.
Since, I was young I always had a need for speed, as did my best friend two houses up from me. And when this need was combined with the imagination of two six-year-olds, there were sometimes catastrophic results. Together we were able to find every rope-swing, zip line, and hill in the neighborhood, which were many in an old neighborhood like ours. Our neighborhood looked more like the shire of the hobbits instead of a regular suburb, with hills ready for our use anytime we desired. However, there was one hill—the largest, most ominous peak in the area. We had tried many different mechanisms to conquer this mountain, but the thrill of broken scooters, burning rollerblades, and car-bashing bicycles was losing its buzz. So, at my house, when my little sister asked us to pull her in her red wagon, an idea popped into our heads, and my sister was left to her Barbies.
Not even the American Bobsled team could outdo us, or so we thought—but nothing could beat the ego of a six-year-old, not even logic. So after much thought and contemplation concerning who would be where—meaning who was louder and taller got first choice—we sat down and prepared ourselves. I held the black pole with my right hand and the ball that connected it to the front wheels with my left. Jace, with her new sunglasses—looking like a true motocross driver—rubbed her hands together, causing the needed friction for quick braking reflexes. And Lolie held on tightly to the sides of the wagon with the pole string and her feet held down for a secondary brake system if anything should go wrong.
“One, Two, Three!” Jace hollered, pushing ecstatically off of the sidewalk.
“I thought we were going to five!” Lolie shouted, but her words were lost in the cold wind behind us.
The blistering air beat on my eyes, making me incapable of seeing, but we were finally achieving our intended purpose—speed. Every second we got faster and faster, like the hill would never end—my hands working with great effort to turn the pole the correct way against the bumps in the sidewalk. Suddenly I heard a strange noise behind me that I couldn’t quite understand.
“What are you doing!” Jace exclaimed.
Losing concentration, I lost control and dropped the steering pole. In a blur of green, shards of grass pounded into our faces, blinding us all, we certainly weren’t on the sidewalk anymore.
“Feet down!” Jace commanded, but neither of us heard, we were focusing on the last moments of our short lives, screaming at the top of our lungs.
The blur of green finally faded into a gray.
CRASH!
The gray had been a brick wall fence.
My head whipped forward and my hands bled from holding them out to stop the crash—not a very bright idea.
“I think I twisted my ankle,” Lolie groaned.
“Don’t be such babies,” Jace mumbled, sprawled on the ground, trying to pull herself up.
We certainly were quite a sight, Lolie and I breathing our last breaths as we thought we were dying and Jace getting up to go back home.
“You dead?” I asked.
“Yup.”
We slowly pulled ourselves up, over several minutes—maybe this was what happened when we died, perhaps we were ghosts.
There was a huge round dent in the bricks, reminding us of the round black ball at the bottom of the steering pole…
“Uh.” Lolie looked at me, in thoughtful meditation.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “Well, um, see ya tomorrow.”
Lolie limped back to her house and I discreetly pulled the slightly smashed wagon back to my house. I felt it best to avoid any wagon hill racing for a while, and so I left the wagon in the garage for the next month, hidden under a tarp—the owner of the wall would be home tomorrow. I don’t think she’d notice three limping children in the neighborhood—maybe.
Since, I was young I always had a need for speed, as did my best friend two houses up from me. And when this need was combined with the imagination of two six-year-olds, there were sometimes catastrophic results. Together we were able to find every rope-swing, zip line, and hill in the neighborhood, which were many in an old neighborhood like ours. Our neighborhood looked more like the shire of the hobbits instead of a regular suburb, with hills ready for our use anytime we desired. However, there was one hill—the largest, most ominous peak in the area. We had tried many different mechanisms to conquer this mountain, but the thrill of broken scooters, burning rollerblades, and car-bashing bicycles was losing its buzz. So, at my house, when my little sister asked us to pull her in her red wagon, an idea popped into our heads, and my sister was left to her Barbies.
Not even the American Bobsled team could outdo us, or so we thought—but nothing could beat the ego of a six-year-old, not even logic. So after much thought and contemplation concerning who would be where—meaning who was louder and taller got first choice—we sat down and prepared ourselves. I held the black pole with my right hand and the ball that connected it to the front wheels with my left. Jace, with her new sunglasses—looking like a true motocross driver—rubbed her hands together, causing the needed friction for quick braking reflexes. And Lolie held on tightly to the sides of the wagon with the pole string and her feet held down for a secondary brake system if anything should go wrong.
“One, Two, Three!” Jace hollered, pushing ecstatically off of the sidewalk.
“I thought we were going to five!” Lolie shouted, but her words were lost in the cold wind behind us.
The blistering air beat on my eyes, making me incapable of seeing, but we were finally achieving our intended purpose—speed. Every second we got faster and faster, like the hill would never end—my hands working with great effort to turn the pole the correct way against the bumps in the sidewalk. Suddenly I heard a strange noise behind me that I couldn’t quite understand.
“What are you doing!” Jace exclaimed.
Losing concentration, I lost control and dropped the steering pole. In a blur of green, shards of grass pounded into our faces, blinding us all, we certainly weren’t on the sidewalk anymore.
“Feet down!” Jace commanded, but neither of us heard, we were focusing on the last moments of our short lives, screaming at the top of our lungs.
The blur of green finally faded into a gray.
CRASH!
The gray had been a brick wall fence.
My head whipped forward and my hands bled from holding them out to stop the crash—not a very bright idea.
“I think I twisted my ankle,” Lolie groaned.
“Don’t be such babies,” Jace mumbled, sprawled on the ground, trying to pull herself up.
We certainly were quite a sight, Lolie and I breathing our last breaths as we thought we were dying and Jace getting up to go back home.
“You dead?” I asked.
“Yup.”
We slowly pulled ourselves up, over several minutes—maybe this was what happened when we died, perhaps we were ghosts.
There was a huge round dent in the bricks, reminding us of the round black ball at the bottom of the steering pole…
“Uh.” Lolie looked at me, in thoughtful meditation.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “Well, um, see ya tomorrow.”
Lolie limped back to her house and I discreetly pulled the slightly smashed wagon back to my house. I felt it best to avoid any wagon hill racing for a while, and so I left the wagon in the garage for the next month, hidden under a tarp—the owner of the wall would be home tomorrow. I don’t think she’d notice three limping children in the neighborhood—maybe.
A New Chronic Illness In Utah, Utah Possibly To Be Quarantined.
Associated Press May 19, 2009
In recent years, prominent scientists in the Wasatch Mountain Region have been researching into a new alarming genetic disorder that has revealed itself in larger and larger numbers, called the TTI. One of the leading scientists, renowned Russian scientist Chastakorlenkabukinbrishgrosha (fondly known as Shasta by his close friends) has stated “Vee believe dis to not only ve ah disordah, vhut ee highly contahgious disease oov soome sort. Ve are noot entirely sure oov eets eempleecahtions aht dis time vheeing, vhut it hast spread droughout all facets oov Utahn sociedy. Ve are trying ahr vest to cantrohl its recent outvursts.”
Yugoslavian scientist Yunimomoni, has called this disease by the more popular name “tithing tippers.” Somehow, when the people with the ‘tithing tipper’ come in contact with others carrying the disease, it somehow alters the very actions of the individual, changing the very conscience that so defines humankind. These people, when going to a restaurant, somehow forgo all human sympathy and insist on giving tips of 10% or less, resulting in waiters and waitresses all over Utah barely making minimum wage—for in Utah they only make $2.37 an hour and in order to achieve minimum wage they have to make up the difference in tips. Yunimomoni stated, “It is a very disturbing disease. And since the economic downturn, it’s become even harder to study the disease, for we can’t tell who actually carries the disease and who is just faking like they have it.”
Since the recent outbreak of Swine Flu, and the nationwide alarm, the federal government has been weary of releasing any other information regarding the ‘tithing tipper.’ But when an anonymous individual suffering from the disease was quarantined, and described her experiences on her online blog, the government was forced to either approve or deny the information. In the blog she said, “After leaving the restaurant, I was walking to my car in the parking lot. Before I knew what was happening, I was chased down by my waitress and other staff members. Everything went dark and the next second, I found myself on a white bed in a room covered in plastic. People in astronaut suits were around me telling me not to worry, ‘this will be taken care of.’”
Some of the researchers believe the ‘tithing tipper’ could possibly be much more destructive of the human mind than any other disorder before created. Senora Stratton, American scientist and owner of the Las Madres Restaurant, said “We don’t understand it, we don’t know if it’s a disorder, illness, disease, or a genetic malfunction. We have found that it is dangerously contagious and somehow affects the very brain, controlling the frontal lobe’s functions of judgment, but we have also seen a constant trend in the children of carriers. We are starting to believe that it can actually enter into the very DNA of the carrier and be spread to offspring.”
The disease is also known to spark sporadic uncontrollable anger and possible violence in waiters and waitresses who come in contact with it. Recently in the small town of Hurricane, Utah, a waitress was said to have served a table and upon receiving the check, she chased the customer down and in irrepressible fury gave the customer such an angry invective that the customer has been in therapy ever since, besides also receiving treatment by specialists for the symptoms of the ‘tithing tipper.’
Since children rarely pay for food at restaurants and in effect never tip waiters, it is difficult to know for sure who is truly carrying the illness. In fact, some people have been known to never enter a restaurant till their middle age or later, and at that point scientists don’t know if it is because of lack of consideration or because they are truly a sufferer. Governor John Huntsman in a private medical press conference said, “The difficulty with researching this disease is that it has a gradual onset and, like some disorders, can possibly not be recognizable until teenage or adult years. And although some may be carriers, they may never be in the proper situation for us to view the symptoms. We fear for its spread and don’t know how many have been infected.”
John Huntsman further said, “the government is looking into a quarantine of the entire Utah state, for this illness has been leaking out of state borders into nearby states with six cases in Idaho, twenty-four in Nevada , and three in Colorado. These individuals are in intensive rehabilitation and their identities have been highly guarded in order to prevent mass chaos and fear within the communities they reside.”
In order to prevent the disease, scientists have asked parents to keep their children away from the influence of ‘tithing tipper’ carriers. Few have been cured of it, and those in the senior years of life are known to have a very low curable rate. Yunimomoni stated, “Children of the new generation are where our focuses are, we have to stop this disease’s spread at the beginning stages. We could do very little for seniors who have been suffering from it their whole lives.”
In recent years, prominent scientists in the Wasatch Mountain Region have been researching into a new alarming genetic disorder that has revealed itself in larger and larger numbers, called the TTI. One of the leading scientists, renowned Russian scientist Chastakorlenkabukinbrishgrosha (fondly known as Shasta by his close friends) has stated “Vee believe dis to not only ve ah disordah, vhut ee highly contahgious disease oov soome sort. Ve are noot entirely sure oov eets eempleecahtions aht dis time vheeing, vhut it hast spread droughout all facets oov Utahn sociedy. Ve are trying ahr vest to cantrohl its recent outvursts.”
Yugoslavian scientist Yunimomoni, has called this disease by the more popular name “tithing tippers.” Somehow, when the people with the ‘tithing tipper’ come in contact with others carrying the disease, it somehow alters the very actions of the individual, changing the very conscience that so defines humankind. These people, when going to a restaurant, somehow forgo all human sympathy and insist on giving tips of 10% or less, resulting in waiters and waitresses all over Utah barely making minimum wage—for in Utah they only make $2.37 an hour and in order to achieve minimum wage they have to make up the difference in tips. Yunimomoni stated, “It is a very disturbing disease. And since the economic downturn, it’s become even harder to study the disease, for we can’t tell who actually carries the disease and who is just faking like they have it.”
Since the recent outbreak of Swine Flu, and the nationwide alarm, the federal government has been weary of releasing any other information regarding the ‘tithing tipper.’ But when an anonymous individual suffering from the disease was quarantined, and described her experiences on her online blog, the government was forced to either approve or deny the information. In the blog she said, “After leaving the restaurant, I was walking to my car in the parking lot. Before I knew what was happening, I was chased down by my waitress and other staff members. Everything went dark and the next second, I found myself on a white bed in a room covered in plastic. People in astronaut suits were around me telling me not to worry, ‘this will be taken care of.’”
Some of the researchers believe the ‘tithing tipper’ could possibly be much more destructive of the human mind than any other disorder before created. Senora Stratton, American scientist and owner of the Las Madres Restaurant, said “We don’t understand it, we don’t know if it’s a disorder, illness, disease, or a genetic malfunction. We have found that it is dangerously contagious and somehow affects the very brain, controlling the frontal lobe’s functions of judgment, but we have also seen a constant trend in the children of carriers. We are starting to believe that it can actually enter into the very DNA of the carrier and be spread to offspring.”
The disease is also known to spark sporadic uncontrollable anger and possible violence in waiters and waitresses who come in contact with it. Recently in the small town of Hurricane, Utah, a waitress was said to have served a table and upon receiving the check, she chased the customer down and in irrepressible fury gave the customer such an angry invective that the customer has been in therapy ever since, besides also receiving treatment by specialists for the symptoms of the ‘tithing tipper.’
Since children rarely pay for food at restaurants and in effect never tip waiters, it is difficult to know for sure who is truly carrying the illness. In fact, some people have been known to never enter a restaurant till their middle age or later, and at that point scientists don’t know if it is because of lack of consideration or because they are truly a sufferer. Governor John Huntsman in a private medical press conference said, “The difficulty with researching this disease is that it has a gradual onset and, like some disorders, can possibly not be recognizable until teenage or adult years. And although some may be carriers, they may never be in the proper situation for us to view the symptoms. We fear for its spread and don’t know how many have been infected.”
John Huntsman further said, “the government is looking into a quarantine of the entire Utah state, for this illness has been leaking out of state borders into nearby states with six cases in Idaho, twenty-four in Nevada , and three in Colorado. These individuals are in intensive rehabilitation and their identities have been highly guarded in order to prevent mass chaos and fear within the communities they reside.”
In order to prevent the disease, scientists have asked parents to keep their children away from the influence of ‘tithing tipper’ carriers. Few have been cured of it, and those in the senior years of life are known to have a very low curable rate. Yunimomoni stated, “Children of the new generation are where our focuses are, we have to stop this disease’s spread at the beginning stages. We could do very little for seniors who have been suffering from it their whole lives.”
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