Go Revised.

Go.

Just do it. Go. Everyone has to do it sometime. Just get in your car and do it. Pick a destination. Who cares if you actually end up there or not, you'll end up somewhere, and somewhere is better than where you are right now. There will never be a perfect time, you will never have enough money, and your mother will never approve. If the latter is true, maybe don’t call your mom until you’re halfway across Ohio. By that time she can’t be that mad, nothing ever happens in Ohio. But go. The hardest part is actually getting in your car, putting the key in the ignition, and firing that baby up. But once you've done that, you're golden. So go.

There is something special about road trips. There's something about getting into a car with a few of your closest friends and venturing out into the unknown. It's funny, because you start out with a couple destinations all map-quested out, but it never ends up that way. But that's the awesome part, because it doesn't matter. You might as well throw out all those map-quest directions and stop off at the BP and buy yourself a decent atlas. Don’t worry about whether or not you know how to read it, but at least when you call your mom in Ohio you can say, “Don’t worry Mom, we have an atlas.”

The thing about road trips is this: no matter how long or how short, you will learn some life lessons. You will learn more about yourself. You will learn that perhaps you aren't the incredibly patient, understanding person that you thought you were, and that even though you laugh when your friends make fun of your driving, deep down you really believe that you are a good driver. And it bothers you when they won't let you drive, especially when it's seven in the morning and you have yet to sleep.

You will learn more about the friends you are with. You will realize that even though they make fun of your driving and rarely let you behind the wheel, you love them deeply and fiercely. You will learn that it is possible to be seething at them one minute, cracking up the next minute, and loving them through it all.

You will learn more about God. He will show you what it really means to experience life with other people, and not just experience, but share. And not just the heylet’sgrabcoffee sharing of life, but the real deal. The spending every single minute together in a tiny blue Corolla sharing of life. And it is beautiful. God will unfold for you the beauty of His creation, the beauty that expands beyond the cornfields and prairie land of Illinois. He will open your eyes to places and vantage points you did not know existed. You will drive through the night aware that there are huge landmasses looming on either side of you, and then have your breath taken away by the beauty of the sun rising over the hills of Maryland. And no one will talk because words cannot describe the incredible perfection of God’s creation.

You will learn to take risks and fly by the seat of your pants. You will learn that it is possible to drive into a city at midnight, without knowing a single soul, and find a cheap room for the night. You will learn how to ask for directions, how to find the best restaurants, and how to get a speeding ticket on a New York interstate.

I could go on for pages describing the lessons that you learn and the experiences that you have when you take a road trip, but I won't. You need to have your own lessons, your own experiences.

Do it. Do it before the chance slips away. Before you know it, the year will end, friends will move across the country, and your chance will be gone. Skip your meeting, reschedule your exam, and sell back your books. Make what started out as a dream a reality. After you come back and those friends move away, there will be an ache in your heart whenever you think about eating Philly cheese steak sandwiches in silence, but it’s better than the ache that will be there if you don’t go.

So make a plan. Then change it. Go to Canada. But beware, Canada stinks. But you need to experience it for yourself. And if you find the University of Toronto, call me and let me know what you think. And after you spend more time in the car than out of it, you've done it. You have road tripped. When you get back, everyone will ask you how it was. You'll look at them and want to explain how absolutely incredible it was. You'll try to describe the beauty of driving through the hills of Maryland as the sun comes up, you'll try to describe the fear that raced through your veins when you pulled into the abandoned parking lot in the middle of the night that you thought was an old gas station, you'll try to describe just how terrible Canada really is. But it's fruitless, because it is impossible to describe a road trip. Eventually, you'll just start to reply to all those that inquire about your voyage, "It was awesome."

So go. Just do it. I promise you won't regret it. And afterwards, when I ask you how it was, you'll look at me and say, "It was awesome." And we'll look at each other with knowing eyes, because we both know that it was far more than "awesome." It was indescribable.

Go.

Go.

Just do it. Go. Everyone has to do it sometime. Just get in your car and do it. Pick a destination. Who cares if you actually end up there or not, you'll end up somewhere, and somewhere is better than where you are right now. The hardest part is actually getting in your car, putting the key in the ignition, and firing that baby up. But once you've done that, you're golden. So go.

There is something special about road trips. There's something about getting into a car with a few of your closest friends and venturing out into the unknown. It's funny, because you start out with a couple destinations all map-quested out, but it never ends up that way. But that's the awesome part, because it doesn't matter. You might as well throw out all those map-quest directions and stop off at the BP and buy yourself a decent Atlas. The thing about road trips is this: no matter how long or how short, you will learn some life lessons.

You will learn more about yourself. You will learn that perhaps you aren't the incredibly patient, understanding person that you thought you were, and that even though you laugh when your friends make fun of your driving, deep down you really believe that you are a good driver. And it bothers you when they won't let you drive, especially when it's seven in the morning and you have yet to sleep.

You will learn more about the friends you are with. You will realize that even though they make fun of your driving and are hesitant to let you drive, you love them deeply and fiercely. You will learn that it is possible to be seething at them one minute, cracking up the next minute, and loving them through it all.

You will learn more about God. He will show you what it really means to experience life with other people, and He will show you what it looks like to live in community with other believers. He will unfold for you the beauty of His creation, the beauty that expands beyond the corn fields and prairie land of Illinois.

You will learn to take risks and fly by the seat of your pants. You will learn that it is possible to drive into a city and midnight, without knowing a single soul, and find a cheap room for the night. You will learn how to ask for directions, how to find good restaurants, and how to get a speeding ticket on a New York interstate.

I could go on for pages describing the lessons that you learn and the experiences that you have when you take a road trip, but I won't. You need to have your own experiences, your own trip. Make a plan. Then change it. Go to Canada. But beware, Canada stinks. But you need to experience it for yourself. And if you find the University of Toronto, call me and let me know what you think. And after you spend more time in the car than out of it, you've done it. You have road tripped. When you get back, everyone will ask you how it was. You'll look at them and want to explain how absolutely incredible it was. You'll try to describe the beauty of driving through the hills of Maryland as the sun comes up, you'll try to describe the fear that raced through your veins when you pulled into the abandoned parking lot in the middle of the night that you thought was an old gas station, you'll try to describe just how terrible Canada really is. But it's fruitless, because it is impossible to describe a road trip. Eventually, you'll just start to reply to all those that inquire about your voyage, "It was awesome."

So go. Just do it. I promise you won't regret it. And afterwards, when I ask you how it was, you'll look at me and say, "It was awesome." And we'll look at each other with knowing eyes, because we both know that it was far more than "awesome." It was indescribable.

We were bored Sunday Night, so.....

What we want to do before we graduate:
get karen a date with someone who isnt lame (not that you're lame),
get kali to talk to boys
get tara to go a week without a relationship
get kate to be able to reject someone without saying yes.

get karen to stop stalking people
get kali to stop making out with two boys at one time
get tara to keep her pants on
get kate to stop having illegal crushes on 14-year-old boys

get karen to have a positive attitude for more than 2 minutes
get kali to effing punch someone in the face
get tara to stop saying "i feel..." when beginning every single statement
get kate to stop quoting Scripture to convict people of their sins

get karen to eat a real meal
get kali to stop asking people what they eat for every single meal of every single day
get tara to stop stealing people's clothes and never giving them back
get kate to stop complaining about her "big, enormous, huge" butt

get karen to get a butt
get kali to stop pretending she hears you when she really has no idea you even spoke
get tara to limit her car accidents to 1 a month
get kate stop finding signs from God in her breakfast, dreams, meetings with strangers in the street, fortune cookies, mada'am cleo, etc.

***DISCLAIMER***
Perhaps there is a bit of embellishment. And exaggerating or lying may have been a bit of a factor in writing this blog.
********


Posted by T-Rex and K-Mart featuring special guest writers Kate the Fart-Head and Kali the Fartless-Monster

HAHAHAHAHA

I changed our template to pink. Karen's going to freak. AH HA HA HA HA HA HA

Long Time Coming

So Kmart and I have this new thing where we update our blog once every 83 months. We like to keep you on your toes. So I'm at home for Thanksgiving break, and I'm incredibly bored. I should be doing homework, because it was due last Friday, but I figured instead I would grace you all with some words of wisdom. Actually, I don't think that anyone even reads this anymore because we never write on it. I had to blow on my computer screen to get rid of all the dust. The problem is, I have nothing to write about. My life is rather boring...well actually, it's not so much boring, just there is nothing blog-worthy to write about. Hmmmm...what to say, what to say. I guess since I'm now 22, I've become pretty wise. Which means I should probably share some of that wisdom with the younger generation (that would be you). So what have I learned in the past 22 years? Let's see...

Crap.

I can't think of anything. I'm an idiot. So basically the moral of the story is that really by the time you're 22, not much has changed: you're still a punk kid with no solid direction in your life, but everyone around you (especially the elders) assume that you have direction, and they expect you to have direction, but there is no escaping the fact that you haven't learned anything of real value since you entered college. Except maybe that you can go 5 weeks without doing laundry and 4 days without showering. Or maybe that's just me.

So let's talk about this new era that comes with turning 22: marriage. I swear, you enter your senior year of college and before you know it everyone you know is getting engaged. It is wild. I mean, one minute you're out shopping for a new bathing suit for spring break and talking about how lame boys are, and the next minute you're out looking at wedding dresses and planning a rehearsal dinner. Wild. So when all of your friends start to get married, you start to think, "crap, I need to get married too." But then you realize that you're only 22, and, as previously stated, you're an idiot. And while marriage is all very good and exciting for some people, the thought of getting married yourself gives you an ulcer. But aside from all the anxiety that comes with friends getting married, there are many, many positives. First of all, weddings are like prom, except for way better. First of all, you are now all 21 (unless you're one of those crazy Christian couples who get married at 18 just so you can have sex), and adding alcohol into the mix always makes things a little more interesting. Along with that, all weddings have the token drunk person: this person has clearly milked the open bar for all it's worth, and is now inappropriately dancing with the groom's mother. While this is obviously embarrassing and somewhat inappropriate, it does spice up the chicken dance a little bit. Unless you are the token drunk friend. In that case, just pray that your family wasn't also invited to the wedding. In addition to wedding fun, there is also a lot of pre-wedding fun. For example, as most of you know, my very best friend is currently engaged. Because of this, every time we get together we plan some sort of engagement celebration. This is especially fun, because it gives you an excuse to get all dressed up and go out and scream, "She's getting married!!!!," all night long. This is followed by much dancing and festivities. So basically the moral of the story is that even though when you turn 22 all your friends go off and get married, this is good, because now you have an excuse to celebrate for at least a year. And celebrating is good. And I for one still have Kmart, who is currently filling out her applications for the nunnery, so if worst comes to worst, we could always share a room in the convent...we always said we wanted to be roommates again. Well, we didn't really say that, but I'm sure she wants to live with me. I'm fun.

Alright, well that's enough for one day. Check back in with us in a decade.

Keep it real.
T-rex

To all the Joes of the World, I dont hate you

It has come to my attention by numerous loud-mouths that this is, indeed, my last stand. Let's discuss this student teaching thing, first. You're in school but no longer involved in the college life, and you have a job but don't get paid. Hmmm, I smell lawsuit. I have also come to learn that from the past 3 years there is a large majority of people who think I hate them. I'm not really sure why, because I certainly enjoy their company, but I guess my quasi-negative comments just fool everyone. I really am a joyful person, my humor is in complaining and sarcasm though. I guess, i dont know, maybe i just hate you too. Very well. Kate and Tara thought I hated them. Everyone just needs to stop exaggerating every word i throw at them. And when I give you the silence treatment, i'm really actually not aware of it, so please let's not make big deals.
This brings me to life after this life and begets (although not really) the question, where will i be a year from now? There is something seriously wrong with this part of the world. Have you noticed the extreme abundance of horizon? Spending the summer inside a basin of mountains has convinced me that the only reason a place like Illinois exists is for a place to send the bad people. We didnt catch on, though, and now I'm living in it. Don't get me wrong, Oak Park is a nice place, and I'd like to return some day down the road.......but the mountains, oh the mountains. I'll return after I have mastered the art of powder surfing, or at least broken enough bones to make it worth my while. I used to think I was bound for the Bay area, but things a happen, you get slapped a couple times, and your head starts to turn. God is funny. Not funny "ha, ha," but funny "whaa, whaa," oh wait, maybe that's not funny. what does that mean? Pretty much I have no idea where to go....which makes applying to schools super great. Though, I can't quite shake my itching for the west. Not that the east is bad, but com'on the west could take it in a second. We got Arnold, they got Bush. Case closed. And the south? Well, let's not even go there....literally. I've been on the phone holding for a while now. I'm beginning to think this is a scam. Maybe I'll just become an FBI agent. That's the real dream.


Word.

Ode to Karen Steiner

bigT13guard: what should i blog about
SteinerJoe21: me
bigT13guard: okay
SteinerJoe21: n o itake it back
bigT13guard: too late
bigT13guard: it's done

Oh Karen, you are so fair
With your elongated legs and flowing blonde hair
You love Illini basketball
Especially the one that stands so tall
Sometimes you do silly things
Like poo your pants or ditch with dings
Okay so you don't really poo your pants
But you do do a funny dance
Hey I just said doo doo
Okay let's get back to this rhyme
Before the cock crows and I run out of time
Well Karen, or shall I say K-mart?
What was that? Did you just let out a fart?
I could hear it across the hall
But maybe that was just your mating call.
Sometimes when you're around
You begin to make a pretty whack sound.
A "moo moo" here or a "eee eee" there
If there are others around you do not care.
Once in awhile you even shout out HOOCHIE MAMA
In the midst of all the airplane drama.
You run through Savoy carrying cardboard Mooses
And through the dorms you make us move our cabooses
Whatever will I do next year without my dear Karen?
Without 525,600 minutes blarin?
Whose clothes will I borrow (and ruin)
Oh this year is closing far too soon.
Just remember this summer when you are in Tahoe
About the girl in reject OC whom you sometimes call Joe
So as I bring this Ode to a close
Why don't you strike a pose
And give yourself a hand
Because Karen, you are the biggest playa in the land.


Wow. That was awful. It's late. I'm out.

Keep it real.

Iron Chef Third Street

Okay, so Karen and I are not the best blog updaters. Deal with it. We have lives. Or at least we like to pretend we do. Actually, I don't have much of a life, which is why I rarely have anything interesting to post. And nothing horribly interesting has happened lately, so I'm going to write about an event that occured at the beginning of first semester, but was thinking about today because of something the pastor mentioned at church. So now I want you to close your eyes and think way back to the end of August, when your notebooks were still empty and the days were still warm, but the nights were chilly, hinting that fall was just around ther corner...

One August night, Kate, Lauren, and I decided that we were going to cook a nice family dinner. This was back when we were still excited with having a kitchen and cooking for ourselves, before we realized that cooking is extremely overrated and dorm food isn't actually that bad. But I digress. Lauren, being the master chef that she is, was doing most of the cooking, while Kate and I were pretending to help by watching TV. Our friend Schooff was going to come eat with us, but she lives in a land far, far away called Urbana. So Lauren needed to go pick Schooff up, but she told us that we needed to watch the food while she went to grab Schooff. Super. So Kate and I mosey on over to the kitchen and scope out the scene. The chicken had just finished thawing out and the rice was on the stove. Yum. So Kate's like, "I think we're supposed to wash the chicken off, that's what my mom does." I agree, because I know nothing about cooking. So we wash the chicken and then decide that we should also cut the fat off because it looks really gross. So we're thinking that we're doing pretty good at this point. The next 20 minutes or so of our cooking experience goes something like this:

Me: Ummm...the rice is looking kind of watery. Should we drain it?
Kate: I don't think you're supposed to drain rice. Maybe just give it some time. But I think we can put the chicken on the George Foreman now. (Put chicken on Foreman)

5 minutes pass...
Me: You think we should check the chicken?
Kate: Probably (opens lid). Well, it doesn't look done yet. Maybe we should put some spices on it (seasons chicken).

10 minutes pass...
Kate: Alright, it should be done by now
Me: (opens lid) I don't know, it still doesn't look like it's cookign very fast. I thought these things were supposed to cook super fast...
Kate: Maybe we need to flip it. Yeah, that will probably make it cook faster (flips chicken).

5 more minutes pass...
Me: (cuts middle of chicken) uhhh...it still doesn't look done. Like, at all.
Kate: what should we do?
Me: I feel like maybe it just takes a little while to cook. Let's just go watch tv and wait for Lo to get home.

A little while later, Lauren walks through the door and sees us sitting on the couch, watching tv.
Lo: What are you guys doing??
Me: Oh, we're just watching tv. That Foremen takes forever to cook. (Lauren walks into the kitchen)
Lo: Well, in order to cook food you usually need to PLUG THE FOREMAN IN.

And that is why Kate and I are the worst cooks ever. Although I did make turkey burritos the other night and they were pretty delicious.

Keep it real.

T-Rex