The Dangers of Wearing the Wrong Pants

An Actual Blog Post Written by someone who could possibly be David Manning (or a semi-reasonable facsimile thereof.)

It has come to my attention that in spite of my best efforts, there are still people who are reading this Blog. Although I had hoped that I could ignore this problem and it would eventually go away, this does not seem to have been the case. So, by slightly popular demand, I am now taking some time out from the busy life of a millionaire jet-setter (made especially busy by not necessarily having the million bucks or the jet that such a lifestyle tends to require) to ameliorate the recent lack of posts on this Blog. And go look up what the word "ameliorate" means, because I really shouldn't be using words like that when I make someone write Blog posts without knowing what they're supposed to mean. I also suppose that I should attempt to bring everyone up to speed on some of the events of the last few months, as aside from that bit of unpleasantness with the whole exploding Michael Jackson bit, most of you have no clue what I've been up to lately. I should probably keep it that way, but seeing my face on the milk carton every time I try to eat cereal is starting to get old, so here goes.

To tell you the truth, there hasn't been much time for blogging recently. After all, having angry mobsters chasing after you tends to take up a lot more of your time than you might think. How was I supposed to know that wearing the wrong pair of pants to some random Italian restaurant was THAT dangerous? And before you start doubting my story, there were in fact angry mobsters chasing after me. Complete with grainy sped-up black and white film, really fast piano music and all sorts of zany comic pratfalls along the way. In fact, if I hadn't crashed my car into into a paddy wagon full of Keystone Kops at a high rate of speed on 34th street, I'd probably still be running away right now, instead of limping away bandaged up on a set of shockingly convenient crutches. At least all the mobsters ended up behind bars in striped suits dragging around a ball and chain, so I think I'm safe for now. If nothing else, at least I managed to learn a valuable lesson in the process about the potential dangers of unfortunate fashion decisions. Oh, and I also learned that those big fancy captions tend to pop up on the screen at really inconvenient times.

Aside from some stuff about being an Elders Quorum President and trying to maintain something resembling a social life, that's pretty much what my life has been like for the past few months. Tune in six months from now for another vaguely exciting chapter in the continuing story of David Manning...

Editor's note: Scandalous rumors floating around the Internet seem to suggest that David Manning may in fact be making someone else write this stuff, and his actual life may not be anywhere near this boring. David semi-vehemently denies these accusations. Sort of.

Salute my shorts

As a side effect of one too many volleyball digs in shorts not approved for volleyball, I say goodbye to a beloved pair of shorts. My "Get Lucky" shorts ain't lucky no mo'.

I smell a Hollywood blockbuster...

I played volleyball for the first time in 5 years. The first time since the accident.

Here's a refresher course: http://picasaweb.google.com/smerkerg/MTC#5068345593522633250

It was fun to play again. Even if I did break every blood vessel in both of my arms.

Give me a sign. A sign that I want.

Here is a sign:




Am I the only one who looks at the sign above and sees the sign below?

Functional living

I have two belts that are identical except one is black and one is brown. I wear the black one more often. Yesterday I wore the brown one simply because it would decrease the amount of wear in the black belt. Who makes decisions like this? What is wrong with me? On the plus side, it keeps me frugal.

Shh, don't wake him up

You're ready to leave. You get up from your desk and begin walking to the door. A tingling sensation in your right leg. Your foot's asleep. This could be trickier than you thought.

Black Cherry Soda

Do you ever brush your teeth and then when you spit out the toothpaste before you rinse, you struggle to figure out why it is the color it is?

It was black cherry soda.