A Night at the Knots Berry, Part II

"Look forward keeping head pressed against headrest during the entire ride, and firmly grasp the handrail". That is what the sign side (or something to that effect). So basically you are telling me that if I do not follow those exact rules, I am risking serious injury or even death?! Hey, let's wait in line and get on board!

As our story continues, our hero (me) gets his wobbly legs back under him and heads toward Montezooma's Revenge. Ok, we didn't go straight to the "Revenge". Jaclyn and I detoured for a $5 corndog (which came with a bag of Lays.. reminds me of a high-school cafeteria lunch) while (good) Doug and Lori rode the "Screaming Drop of Death" (I cannot remember the exact name).

The line to Montezooma's Revenge was much shorter. Apparently it's not as popular as the Ghost Rider or everyone else knows something we don't. We board this one pretty quickly, I obey the rules on the sign and proceed to put a kung-fu death grip on the handrail while pressing my head against the hard rubber headrest.

After the ride operator mumbles some incoherrent jibberish into his state-of-the-art sound system, we blast off! As fate would have it, my eyes immediately shut tight. Since this is not a wooden coaster, the ride is somewhat smoother.

Montezooma's Revenge is a different type of roller coaster. You start-off by being thrust forward (very quickly) along the track, go through a loop, and then jet straight up towards the sky. When you reach the pinnacle, you roll backwards and do the whole thing over again.

It was at this pinnacle I decided to take a peek. I open my eyes and see nothing but black sky. Assuming I was a dead man, I closed them again and "bravely" finish the ride.

Many of the rides snap photos at some point during it's operation. This affords you the opportunity to purchase a picture of yourself with your eyes closed for the bargain price of $11. I passed.

A Night at the Knots Berry

Well, it seemed harmless. Besides, Jaclyn really likes wooden roller coasters. "Oh, me too!" I reply and proceed to relate a story about the infamous wooden coaster of Libertyland fame: the Pippin (actually, I am not sure if I told the story or just went over it in my head). Along with our thrill-seeking companions Lori and (good) Doug, we wait out the thirty minute line on this chilly February evening to board the "world-famous" Ghost Rider at Knot's Berry Farm.

I had not been on a roller coaster in a few years, but I do remember really enjoying them. The wooden coasters are especially exhilirating. The clickety-clack of the car moving along the rails, the hard turns, the quick dips..

We bravely get in the queue for the front car. When I found a dollar in the floor as I climbed aboard, I assumed that God was smiling on down on me.. telling me "hey little buddy, this one's on me".

The row of tiny, tin death traps pulled out from the station made the first turn and then begain it's steep ascent to the top. "Hey, nice view" I thought to myself. I looked around at my friends and my girlfriend. We were all smiles. The Ghost Rider! Woo! And then we arrived at the top. My glee was quickly replaced with sheer terror as we made the what seemed like 80 degree plunge back down to "the OC". I grabbed on for dear life, closed my eyes, buried my head in my sweater and rode it out. All the while, I can hear Lori laughing like some demon-possessed spawn of Satan over my right shoulder.

After 2 minutes of fury, our ride came to an end. We had to stop short (not that Mr. Costanza!) of the station house. Why? Vomit was being cleaned from the last car in front of us. Apparently I was not the only one who felt the Ghost Rider was a little too much to bear. I can take pride in the fact that I manged to keep my Trader Joe's BBQ Chicken pizza down in my stomach where it belonged.

Stayed tuned for Montezooma's Revenge... or, "How I Managed to go to Knot's Berry Farm but Miss it all Because My Eyes Were Closed the Whole Time".

Exercise nuts..

I like to work out. I go to the gym frequently. Not because I am some big muscle guy, but I enjoy the exercise. After a long day, it makes me feel better.

What makes me feel even better is seeing someone at the gym really getting into his or her workout. The dedication exhibited by some of the fervent athletes at my local 24 Hour Fitness leaves me in awe.

For example, take the lady next to me on the cross-trainer last week. She had a steady pace of 30 RPMs, a heart-rate of about 60 and had burned 70 calories in about 20 minutes. All while talking on her phone ("Oh, I'm just working out"). That my friends, is heart and determination. That is the good ol' American spirit on display.

This morning, I saw another example of athleticism at it's finest. It was almost like watching the old Wide World of Sports show on ABC. This gal was jogging in the bike lane (against traffic) all the while managing to balance her cell phone againt her right ear. She was so committed, that she managed to close that big business deal or buy that hot stock all the while getting in her daily .5 mile jog.

No wonder Olympic ratings are down. Why would I watch that stuff when I can see some of the finest athletes in the world all within a few miles of my home.

Jaclyn is not happy..

Today's guest columnist is my girfriend, Jaclyn Barnard:

If I had a blog …

I’d dedicate a whole entry to my heinous working conditions.



I took this while sitting at my desk. Basically, this is what I see every time I sit down to work. I absolutely hate it. Included are visual reminders of things that I need to do, but haven’t had time for. For example, my bills, putting away all of the Verizon crap (and I really have no place to put it until I clear out other things – which is another task), changing my wireless carriers, putting all of those files away (which I can’t do until I clear out my files – my cabinet is full), grading papers, etc.

Sorry … didn’t mean to gripe about this old issue, yet again. Though I am in debt the idea of getting my own place is so attractive that way I’d have space to put all of my crap and so wouldn’t have to worry about reorganizing stuff all of the time to make space.

The tracheotomy

I see that God himself had a tracheotomy yesterday.

Well, at least that is how the Catholics act. I do not understand the worship of another human being whether it's a celebrity, politician or in this case, a religious figure (the Pope). I have always perceived the Roman Catholic Church to be a bit of a cult (maybe that is just my Protestant 'elitism'). Of course, they try to pass themselves off as the "one true church". If I have my Biblical history correct, it was the Romans who crucified Jesus (along with countless other "troublemakers"). But somewhere along the way, the Romans "got religions" and became the standard-bearer for the Christianity.

When I see tens of thousands flock to the Vatican or watch that old man parade around in that white car, I cannot help but think that the Roman Empire is alive and kicking. In fact, I've heard television evangelist types call the Pope, the "holiest man alive". Wow! What a big head he must have. Maybe we should all pitch in buy the pontif a one-size-too-small t-shirt that says "#1 Christian" (not unlike Morty Seinfeld's "#1 Dad" shirt). Can you imagine the Pope ripping off his long, flowing robes to reveal his "#1 Christian" status? Now, THAT is something worth flocking to the Vatican for.

I once heard Bill O'Reily (a supposed devout Catholic) contend that the Old Testament was "allegory". How can you be a Christian if you think the scriptures that predict the coming of the Messiah (the same scriptures that Jesus so frequently quoted) are simply fictional stories?

In my opinion, the Catholics are misguided and do nothing to bring people to Christ.

Am I a Christian? Definitely. Do I think the Roman Catholic Church is nuts? Absolutley.

Large-breasted poster

Someone put a poster of a large-breasted gal in the 2nd stall of the men's restroom. I feel like I'm in high school. Nifty.

You learn something everyday..

I didn't know that Tim Easton lived in Joshua Tree. Maybe I'll drive out and say hello. He probably wants to jam.

Bedtime blog..

I love spam. Apparently, cute girls in my area are waiting to meet ME! Yes! Finally. Obviously they must have found out that I've been getting discount prescription offers for erection enhancers, ejaculate volumizers and hot stock tips. Those cute gals must think they are in for the night of their life with a wealthy, virile Wall St banker.

A.G. Pennypacker I am.

Feeling stupid..

There's nothing worse than feeling stupid while someone tells you that you did a fine job. When YOU know you are stupid, you just assume that everyone else knows that as well. Which in turn, makes you wonder: are they just telling me this to make me feel better, or are they just that much more stupid than me?

I'm not sure what made my sandwich for me at Togos. It was either the manliest Mexican woman alive or a very femine, large, Mexican male. I almost didn't want to eat my sandwich. Yes, it was that bad.

Did you know that lemons ripen after you pick them but oranges do not?

Ughhh.. Wednesday morning.

So here it is Wednesday morning at 7:20. Of course, I am in the office early. That is what I do. The rain clouds are still unleashing their mighty fury upon us. I think today might be the last day of it.. I sure hope so. Everything is saturated. The poorly paved streets are really showing wear now as potholes are sprouting up like zits on a teen's face. Anyhow I digress..

I am debating whether or not it's time for my morning cup of coffee (instant). Sometimes I like to put it off until about 7:45. I just brushed my teeth before I left for work. Every morning I have this internal debate as to how long I should let my teeth revel in their cleanliness before I drown them in their daily Columbian stain. Having a fresh mouth for at least 45 minutes is one of the small morning victories I cherish.

Sooooo..

Here we go. Let's see how this thing looks.