Not for the Faint of Attention

The time has come for our yearly, annual, twelve-monthly, anniversary of our last blogging experience. This is reason to celebrate. This is especially exciting, because this year's annual, fifty-two-weekly, one-Earth-revolution anniversary is happening 5 weeks early!! This revolutionary event only happens once a year!, or in this case, less than a year.

We are celebrating by blogging a post on our blog, which is bogged with past blog posts and passed-by bygone posted blogs. In the past we have been begged by pests to post blogs, based uponst our past bloggings, but beginning to post past blogs proved our proficient blogability, therefore we propose to prepare posting a big bag of blog posts promptly.

We now present a story for our consistent followers who have consistently checked our consistently inconsistent blog. Many people may have lost faith and given up hope on our blogging consistency, but in actuality those people are idiots because we have been working extremely hard on this one flavo(u)rful story. For the last year it has been our life's work. We've literally eaten, and not literally drank and breathed, and literally sweated, and alliteratively a-lived this story - and we've also lost count of the times we've woken up from a deep sleep to cry - "Too Many Peppermints in My Pocket!!!"

It was really convenient that this story actually happened a few weeks ago, because we had been working on it for months and months beforehand, not knowing if it would actually ever happen, or remain fictitious. Now that the story has actually happened it has become much easier to finish writing about, and much more accurate.

"Post Modern Prose Meditation Purporting Mega Pepper Mint Musings in Print"

This story transpired over a three week period during the months of March and April, 2008. What follows is a true account of a true event, truthfully told from a truthful teller. It began at approximately 9:25 one morning with the waking of Jason Wyenberg at the address of 145 1/2 on the corner of 2nd and 2nd (One Intersection NE from the Nexus of the Universe (1st and 1st (Sioux Center’s Center))).

As Jason Wyenberg religiously made his pious pilgrimage to church that fateful morning, he decided to fill his pockets one quarter plus one eighth crammed with delicious sweet peppermints. His excitement grew as he thought it would be nice to have a few to share with people in his pew so that they could chew on something new in lieu of Herm Van Nieu speaking words that were true about a Jew.

He took his usual spot in the lofty choir loft which he lovfed. A few rare friends were there, and also some who were not his friends, but mostly they were just people who he called his friends but he really didn’t know the truth of whether they were official friends or not and if they would go on a canoeing trip with him if he asked them to go on a canoeing trip with him. He thought he would try to make them into his friends by offering them some friendship (pepper) mints. Jason thought of his friend Craig whose dad had once given a speech (parent-thesis) on winning friends with mints. Jason had been losing a lot of friends from using too many script references, “quotes,” from children’s movies, and he thought this might just be a way to win a few back.

As Pasteurized Herm began his sermon that day, Jason decided to pull out the magical friend making mints. He held out his hand to the person next to him, and dropped them in the outstretched collection-basketesque palm, tithing 100% of the peppermints in a selfless act of compassion. He was fully expecting the proverbial plate to return with at least one remaining mint, even if it was the scrawniest of the bunch, like Chris W. – too obvious, C. Wyenberg – at a scrawny convention. The proverbial plate returned with a zero or fewer, not appositive, amount. Exactly everyone who was Jason adjacent received a mint, except Jason.

That night Jason lay in bed in a deep sweat, unable to fall into the depths of slumber as he relived that horrible moment of realization that he would not get to suck on a peppermint. When he had given those peppermints to his potential friends, he didn’t realize that friendship would actually cost him to suffer through a church service with no mints in his mouth. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for friendship if it meant he had to say “No mints for me!”

Craig and Jason filled out their final four pools [brackets] that week.

Nevertheless, the next Sunday Jason decided to brave the tempest inside by reattempting to re-tempt his soon to be non-temp friends with mints. This time he’d cool his temperament with a shot of distemper-mint.

As Pastor Herman began servin’ the sermon to the vermin who were neither german nor mer-men and were squirmin’ in their firm-en chairs, some who may or may not have been named Sherman, Jason reached into his pocket which was three-quarters crammed with minty treats. This time Jason selflessly tithed 200% so that HE could receive some mints for himself. Alas, it was not to be. Exactly everyone who was Jason adjacent received a mint, except Jason.

The following week Jason’s dreams were more hyperbole-er than any dream had ever been in the known/unknown history and future of the universe. His dreams of friends and mints coexisting had been severed/slashed by little mint men dancing across minty mint pews and stealing his delicious mint sweets.

During the week the dash-ing Craig and Jason fought some really large sharks with especially large high-fins for a week-long period.

On the third Sunday Jason decided to cram his pockets to a nearly over crammed crampacity. He arrived at church that morning with his pocket bulging like Chris’ pregnant-esque gut that protrudes from his scrawny figure mentioned above.

“Finally, I shall not have to say No Mints for Me!” Jason thought. He took his seat in the usual choir loft that he lovfed, with two of his friends, Betsy and Cherylyn. However, Betsy insisted that they sit down in the regular chairs. Soon, however, Betsy realized that she was in the nursery that day, and left Jason and Cherylyn on their own. No longer in the choir loft, they were left alone. That was when Jason remembered the bulging bunch of mints in his crammed-full to crampacity pocket. (at this point of blogging, we have started drinking alcohol flavor(u)red water, thus our future utterances are BUI (blogging under the influence)). He gently decrammed his cramhole relinquishing the minty treasures found within to his nearby peer(s). Jason was surprised/very surprised, to find only one ‘friend’ sitting Jason adjacent. As he dumped an entire cramload of peppermints into Cherylyn’s hands, he realized there was a cramsworth minus one in a cramsworth chance of getting a mint this time!!!! ExciteMENT mounted as he felt he was meant to meet his mouth with these mints. Cherylyn took one mint out of the crampile and handed the rest back to Jason’s hand which was quivering with excitement. Exactly everyone who was Jason adjacent received a mint, including that one special person adjacent Jason adjacent, which was Jason.

As the sweet delicious goodness touched Jason’s lips, he finally realized that he could either have many, many friends adjacent Jason eating mints while he ate no mints, or he could have one or fewer friends adjacent Jason while he had many mints, but he could not have both.

The moral of the story is this: “Some friendships were never mint to be.”