Flash! Ooooohhh, he saved every one of us!

Heyo! Christmas break post! My sister and I decided that the proportionality of how lame a person goes up at the same rate as the frequency of his/her posts on his/her blog while on a break/vacation. Since that made no sense, maybe no one hates me yet! :) Either way, I am unlame, I guess.
I received my passport finally, although I had to beat up two mailmen and an old lady to get it. My picture is a thing of beauty, and I look forward to filling it with stamps from exotic locations like Managua, the Seychelles, and China Grove, TX. But now I don't have to worry about trouble in the airport, and there's this personal message from the US Secretary of State telling anyone who reads it that I am entitled to protection from any enemy while in a foreign country. It makes me want to find a US embassy and demand sanctuary.
Since I really don't know much about what's going to be happening on the trip, I won't post much about it at this point. I know that I leave Monday, there will be lots of rice and beans, and I may pick coffee. And I can't eat anything fresh because it might contain Malaria or Yellow Fever or Black Death or Jungle Boogie or something else hazardous. I'll fill you in when I get back!
Happy Christmas, everyone. I went on a rampage on my other blog, decrying the rape and pillaging of the Christmas celebration in the name of a materialist holiday, but I'll say no more of it here. I hope you enjoy the break, and friends, and sleep, and chance to remember that the birth of Christ happened in order that the death and resurrection of Christ might come about.
Ten thousand thank yous to Reid, who introduced me to the song detailed in the title. WHO SANG IT? If you know, make yourself heard! And in the meantime I won't be in the country. Everyone who will be at the wedding of the century, you have a good time. Everyone else, shame on us!
Kisses

Daytripper

Ok, here's my second story, sorry it took so long, Jeff et. al.
The snow's a lot meltier and the roads are much clearer since it warmed up, but last week they were pretty slick yet, and I've got to cross one to get to class. So I did my usual prance across traffic to get to Renaissance and Reformation and hit a slick spot.
WHAM!
I fell on my side with unbridled indignity, bruising my hip. Then some punk-ass sophomore who drives to class pulled up to the stop at the street and began to turn right onto the street, where I was still struggling to stand. He has the gall to honk repeatedly at me, then give me the finger. I muttered things about his questionable parentage under my breath, then grabbed a chunk of ice and chucked it at his red Grand Am, and I think I dented it, but I ran off like a naughty little kid, so I don't know what he did after that. What a lousy piece of crap. At least I got his piece of crap American-made car.
I hope this story was worth the wait, all. Now my question of the day:
Is it true?

Two Stories

For the final Plant Morphology lab today, the prof had each of the three of us in the class prepare a food with algae in it, as a way of engaging the subject matter, I guess. So I got all set to make these pork-kelp roll things, rehydrating an entire package of kelp and buying two pounds of pork. So at about 1 last night I was up cutting up pork and spicing it before rolling it up in kelp strips. Turned out I used less than a half pound of pork and about a foot of kelp blade, when I rehydrated about 6 feet of the stuff. So now I have five feet of kelp at my disposal. But our story takes a tragic turn when I wake up this morning to go take a test at 8. My kelp wraps needed to cook for at least three hours in boiling water, so I put the heat on low and dropped them in a pot of water on the stove. When I came back four hours later, a strange smell seeping out into the yard under our front door gave me brief warning that all was not well. Opening the door removed all doubt. Apparently the water in the pot had boiled off long before my return and the things not only burned, but apparently caught on fire, because when I arrived they were already little charcoal lumps in the bottom of the pan. And I can't forget about it, because burnt kelp smells sort of like a crematorium, at least I'm guessing so. So our apartment smells like dead people and we can't air it out because all of the windows are frozen shut.
This post is already too long, so I'll save my second story for tomorrow. The question of the day is, what to do with five feet of spare kelp? The more creative the answer, the better of a friend you are!