Buried Treasure

When I’m flipping channels on TV, I occasionally get stuck watching National Geographic or The History Channel for hours. Okay, that seems to happen more often than not, but who counts? But anyway, on both channels, there’s always shows with the concept of “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” People are always searching through their houses for junk that may be of value and trying to get money out of it. It’s actually amazing what people find hiding in their houses sometimes.

This past weekend and a couple before it, my family’s been cleaning out my great aunt’s house and finding all sorts of old stuff. A lot of it has no value, some of it was trash. But then there was the stuff that had a lot of value whether it be monetary or sentimental. But searching through the worthless stuff makes finding the valuable stuff all the better.

My great Aunt Evelyn had a house and a shed full of stuff, partially because of how long she lived in this particular house, and partially because she would forget that she had things, so instead of search for them, she would just go out and buy more. While it wasn’t quite like an episode of Hoarders, I never imagined having so much stuff in such a small space. I realize that so far, I’ve used the word “stuff” more than anyone ever should in one small narrative, but that’s really the only good description to encompass the random conglomeration of items all combined at this residence. Like I said, some had value, some didn’t. It was all randomly assorted. We spent time sifting through boxes and bags, laughing at some of the old memories and even being shocked at some of the finds. We cleaned out the kitchen cupboards and pantry and found more extremely expired food than I ever want to see again. For instance, this is 23-year-old ketchup:



Notice how it’s almost black in color…and it was practically liquefied. As tempted as I was, no, I did not open it and smell it.

The rest of the time, I felt like I was in my very own episode of American Pickers. I felt like an explorer in someone’s house, trying to salvage something valuable, or at least worthy of Goodwill. There was an endless parade of homemade crafts, clothes, and little odds and ends. Here were some of the interesting finds:



Portable speakers attached to a cassette player. Unfortunately I didn’t see what cassette was still in it, or if it still worked. My uncle told me to put it with my 8-track player.



Oil lamp (which had a glass top until my grandpa accidentally held it up to show everyone and it wasn’t securely attached…), bundt cake pan, grab bar for a shower, homemade doilies, Tupperware, and other assorted goodies heading to Goodwill.



Gigantic roast pan and a motion detecting security light.



Abalone shell seahorse.

Among the other random finds were a huge Jesus tapestry and my great grandmother’s immigration card from 1909. I didn’t take pictures of those, but I should’ve, especially the immigration card. That was actually a pretty cool piece of family history. At the risk of sounding corny, the best buried treasure we found was just the time spent together going through all those memories. I hardly get to see some of my family, so it was nice just to see them and look through ridiculous artifacts with them. The fact that they were there put more value on items that I had deemed worthless. My grandpa got to keep his mother’s immigration card. My uncle got to put on a weird frilly yarn hat and tell us “Don’t worry, be happy. The guy who wrote that killed himself.” I got to see things my great aunt took the time to make and we got to pass them down and keep the heirlooms going. Things like that are more valuable than any ancient artifact or piece of American history any day.

Have you ever taken the time to just dig through old stuff? Do you have any great memories buried away in your house, waiting to be rediscovered? What would you want people to find in your house when you’re gone?

MRE

I have a lot of friends in the military. But when you show up at one of their houses to hang out with them and they’ve got MREs strewn across their bed, things get interesting and curiosity takes over.



For those of you who don’t know, MRE stands for “Meal, Ready to Eat” (or as some put it, Meal, Regurgitated Easily) and is what the military gives our armed forces when they go on training exercises, deployment, or basically anywhere where food is not readily available. They are dehydrated meals in easy-to-carry packages, and all you do is add water. They crack me up because they try to pass off as gourmet meals, such as “Vegetable Lasagna,” “Meatballs in Marinara Sauce,” and “Beef Stew.” In case you’re wondering, they’re not exactly 5-star restaurant quality.

My friend had these left over from the training exercise he just did in California, and he had “Chili with Beans” open already, so I started to investigate. I’ve heard all about these things, but I’ve never seen them in person. I attribute that partially to the fact that I’m not military and partially to the fact that I’ve heard them described as the real weapons of mass destruction.

He showed me the details behind MREs. This is the contents of the Chili and Beans package alone:



That is a spoon, the bag you put it all in to heat it up, crackers, cornbread, chili and beans, cheese sauce, “beverage base orange powder,” a package with seasonings, and a “chocolate chip ranger bar.” My friend then explained to me that the package with the seasonings (shown bottom right) is a mystery grab bag, and then warned me not to eat the gum. When I asked why, he said it’s the equivalent of a laxative because “these things will get you backed up.” Needless to say, I didn’t touch that package again.



This is a close up on the cheese sauce. Note that the last line explains that any ingredient with a star next to it is “ingredients not in regular cheese.” You also have to “knead package before opening.”

If this wasn’t enough to ask me what the hell we feed our military, the preparation instructions dumbfounded me.



You put the chili and beans into this bag, and add water. But here’s the clincher:



This warning is on the top of the plastic bag. If you’ve ever used those little handwarmers that heat up when you rub them, then you’ll understand this warning. Because they essentially have that as a heating element at the bottom of the bag. But the warning tells you “vapors released by activated heater contain hydrogen,” so your meal is now flammable, and “hot water leakage can burn and cause a cold-weather injury.” You should also avoid “drink[ing] the water remaining in the bag or use it in food items.” This meal could turn harmful in two seconds if you’re not careful. And from what I hear, it’s harmful to your digestive system after you eat it, too.

I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t eat any of this. I’m not part of the military, and I’m not that badass or desperate for food. But I did take a bite of the “chocolate chip ranger bar.” And let me tell ya, if they made chocolate flavored charcoal, it would be called a chocolate chip ranger bar.

Does anyone else question this? Like, I understand the thought behind it; it’s easy, it’s portable, it doesn’t NEED to be any fancier than this. But seriously?

Bro Moments: UFC

I never win anything. I know everyone always says that, but it’s true. However, my last Friday morning was made complete by winning these bad boys:



That’s right. I got to go to my first professional MMA fight. For free.

I’m a huge bro about it, too. I’m a bro about a lot of things. But one thing is for sure: I LOVE my MMA fights. Let me tell ya, if they held more fights in Colorado, you could count on seeing me at every one. They are an awesome experience.

UFC 150 was a rematch between Benson Henderson and Frankie Edgar for the Light Heavyweight Championship. The co-main event was an awesome match up as well because Donald “Cowboy” Cerrone is a great fighter from our very own Colorado Springs. There were 10 fights total, and even if they’re not big names in UFC, they’re still so cool to see.

For winning tickets and not having to pay a dime, the seats were amazing. We were three rows up from the railing, and we were sitting next to the hallway where the fighters came out to enter the octagon. It was the next best thing to having floor seats. Here’s a few of my favorite shots from the evening:

That’s me and my friend Clay. I was supposed to be punching him in the face, but I apparently missed the concept of fighting and appear to be punching myself…TKO? Yup.

Amazing night overall, including a fight that lasted just 17 seconds. UFC never ceases to amaze me, and seeing it live was ten times better. I took over 60 pictures, and bought a sweet shirt, because I’m a tourist at these kind of things.



Do you like MMA fighting? Do you have a favorite fighter? Do you like sporting events? If so, what’s your favorite?

If I only knew then…

I was never an avid poetry slam fan. I’m still not. However, George Watsky is my hero. I love a lot of his stuff, and if you’ve never checked it out, I highly recommend it. As a matter of fact, if you’re reading this blog, I’m going to force one of his videos upon you:

This is one of my favorite pieces by him. And no matter how many times I watch it, it makes me wonder what I would tell my 16-year-old self, or any of my past selves for that matter. Oh if I only knew then what I know now:

Dear younger self,

Stop worrying so much about what others are thinking about you. They probably don’t even know what to think of themselves. Worry about what you think about yourself and just roll with that. It’s a lot more fun and stress free that way.

High school is not your life. Your first job, nor your second job, which you might think you want to do forever, is not your life. It’s just high school. It’s just a job. It can easily be your life, if you let it. But you can also make it temporary.

Don’t ever stop doing what you love, even if you’re not that great at it. And if you are great at it, all the more reason to keep doing it.

Don’t stop putting 110% of yourself into everything you do, even if you don’t get 110% back. That’s who you are, that’s the type of dedicated person you are, and don’t ever half-ass it no matter how many times being that passionate bites you in the ass. It may suck to not get that kind of effort back from people, from hobbies, from jobs, from anything. But don’t stop.

You can be weird. You can be unique. You can be cliché. You can be whatever the hell you want to be. Just be it. In a few years, you’ll come to love an Avett Brothers lyric: “Decide what to be, and go be it.” And you will listen to that song on repeat just to hear that line and yell it at the top of your lungs. You’ll throw emphasis on it. And people will look at you weird. But oh well, they'll do that anyway, with or without your emphasized lyrics.

Signed,

The ever-changing person you want to be, who will probably have more advice for that person in a few years.

There are a million things I would tell myself if I could. But that’s why we change. That’s why we better ourselves instead of dwelling on the way we should’ve been. Learn from your past self. Move forward.

What would you tell your younger self if you could?

Long lost CDs

I got a new Ipod for Christmas last year, and I’m just now getting around to putting more music on it that I’d been missing for quite some time. I finally had to put my foot down today when I was excited to listen to an old album I hadn’t heard for a while, and discovered it wasn’t on my Ipod after all. So I pulled my old CD cases out of retirement, and got a little sad.

These CD cases have been sitting in a box at the top of my closet, untouched since I moved into this house. They are dusty and forgotten, shoved away and out of place in an age of digital music. I started loading the ones I didn’t have on my Ipod onto my computer, and got to reminisce as I listened to songs I haven’t even given thought to in years.



I used to be all about CDs. I would hoard them. And then when I couldn’t buy my favorite albums or I just wanted one song off of them, I made mix CDs. Tons of mix CDs. The picture above shows the collection I had, or what I could find of it. The case on the left is full at 64 CDs, the smaller two held 24 each, then there’s a bunch sprawled out and probably getting scratched all to hell without the protection of plastic sleeves. Almost all of them are burned CDs. And the mixes would be so random, too; I found an old Destiny’s Child song mixed in with a Sum 41 track, all together with the Macarena just thrown on there for fun.



I gave them all names too, that way I knew roughly what songs were on each one. This one was labeled “Flippin’ Sweet Mix.” Gosh I thought I was so cool back then…I probably still do.



Then I stumbled upon this one, labeled “Megan’s B-Day Mix!!” This was given to me as a present by my friend Kelsea in eighth grade. Remember when giving mix CDs was such a cool thing to do for someone’s birthday? I think that should make a comeback. I don’t give a crap if you don’t have a CD player, when your birthday rolls around, I’m burning you a CD. I hope someday, someone gives me a mix CD for my birthday again.

I loaded my CDs on my computer, all while downloading a couple other CDs while they imported to Itunes. What a crazy juxtaposition. It’s so weird to think that I’ve lived during both the rise and fall of CDs. So now, my cases will return to the box in my closet, and await a day when my Ipod gives out and I need all that music to be digitalized once again. Oh, the life of a compact disc.

Who still buys CDs? Do you miss them at all? Do you still have a collection from a time when a portable CD player was all the rage?

Flashback snacks

I get stoked about little things. I like to find joy in small things in every day life. So when we go grocery shopping at eleven at night and I’m already loopy from working double shifts every day that week, I get very excited and start dropping unnecessary items in the cart. And I don’t know why being that tired made me revert back to being a little kid, but we made it home with these essentials from my past:



Fish sticks: your childhood was not complete without “breaded minced fish.” I can’t remember the last time I’ve consumed a fish stick, but I can certainly tell you the next time will be in the near future. Potentially this afternoon.

Fruit by the Foot: it was bad enough going down the fruit snack section and seeing all the old time favorites, namely Scooby Doo fruit snacks, Fruit Roll-ups, and Gushers. But Fruit by the Foot won. The last time I had one of these little gems was probably years and years ago, sitting in the cafeteria at lunch in elementary school. Welcome back to my life, Fruit by the Foot.

Nesquik: I love chocolate milk, but it gets so damn expensive. So for whatever reason, when I walked by Nesquik this time around, I couldn’t let it go. I seriously walked past it, went to the next aisle, and then had to backtrack for it because I didn’t feel right leaving without it. Then I had a glass the next day and rediscovered why it’s so much better to just buy regular chocolate milk; that sludgy powder at the bottom and those weird swirls it made as it settled brought me way back. Totally worth it. And you bet your ass I’m going to finish off that whole thing, too.

Oreos: ‘Nuff said. I’m eating a pack as I type this.

Oats & Honey granola bars: these granola bars and I have had a tumultuous past. Flashback to third grade, when we would be put through hours of grueling standardized tests (know as the CSAP to us Coloradoans) and get crappy snacks in between to hold us over. We were given these chewy oat and honey granola bars, and I would usually end up with about five of them because NOBODY else liked them. Either I was the freak who loved the hell out of those delicious bars, or everyone else was just dumb. Those things were awesome then, and I only hoped they still were. Flashback to the past eleven years since third grade when I could never, ever, find those granola bars anywhere. The only thing I could ever find was the crunchy version of them, and those dry counterparts just aren’t the same. Flash to a few days ago at the grocery store, when my eyes finally settled on the box, jaded because I assumed they were just the crunchy ones yet again. But upon closer inspection, the box said “chewy.” Chewy. The box said chewy!!!! The only words sweeter than that are “big pack,” and that’s right there on that box, too. Reunited, and it feels so good.

All of those things remind me of being a little kid. And I was determined to scoop up all of them and take them home with me. When we got home and I unloaded those awesome snacks, I was just about as happy as I was when I was a kid, too. Simpler times, my friends. Simpler times.

So that’s what little things I’m stoked on today. What snacks did you enjoy from your youth? Do you still enjoy them? Or are they long lost treasures?

Increasing my own net worth

I’ve often been asked about my thoughts on tattoos, especially since my newest one is more visible than my others. It’s really a subject I could go on and on about, and will probably blog about more than once. But a customer at work recently asked me how much money I’ve put into my tattoos. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it…until now.

I only have three right now. I never meant to get any tattoos that were of substantial size, but it just happened that way. And you can count on me getting more; I mean, I already have the idea in my mind about my next two and my latest one isn’t even finished yet. They truly are addictive. Let’s add up the total here:



My first tattoo: roses and “et ducit mundum per ars” on my side. 6 hours total, $350


My second, on my hip: about 2 hours, $250


My third, a garter with a pistol and two roses all the way around my right thigh. Not yet completed, but what is done already: about 6 hours, $460


Ok, this one’s not real. It’s only henna. $20.

That makes $1080, not even including tipping my tattoo artists. I have put over a grand into body art, and that’s just what I have for now. And that never really occurred to me.

When I tell people that, they look at me like I’m crazy. I mean, that’s a large chunk of change that could be put towards more important things, like rent or groceries or college tuition. Things I need. But it’s never been a waste to me. It never will be. Art is probably the thing in life that I’m most passionate about, and it always has been. People spend small fortunes on artwork to decorate their house with, and they don’t even get to carry it around with them all the time. I do.

In my eyes, I’m worth a lot more than I used to be. Whoever decides they want to kidnap me can now currently ask for $1080 more than they could before. So you can scoff at my tattoos or the money I’ve put into them, but I just consider it raising my net worth.

I have my reasons for getting my tattoos. And to me, getting a great tattoo is worth they money you pay for it. This is the first time I’ve ever really sat down and realized the price tag on my body art. I look at that number, and it’s shocking at first. But I don’t regret it at all.

How much money have you spent on tattoos? Do you have a limit? Is it worth it?