Now what?

I graduated.

I can't dress myself yet

I hear it's customary to think about one's future at this point in life, so that's what I've been doing. For the longest time, I've wanted to go into some film related profession. I based my school choices off how good their film programs were. So I applied to all these great schools, thinking I'd get into at least one. Turns out I overestimated my awesomeness, because i didn't get into any of them. So now I'm going to the place that I've always sworn I'd never go, BYU.

Now, I'm not bashing BYU. I know it's a good school. It's just that I'll be living ten minutes away from my house. And I think I've spent more than enough time in Utah then can possible be good for a human, and I really want to leave. And never live here again. And, if I do film at BYU, I'm going to have go through the program worrying that my dad will end up reading everything I write and seeing everything I make. Not my style.

And to make matters worse, I don't even know if I WANT to do film anymore. It isn't very practical, if that counts for anything. And it's kind of a self-important thing to major in anyway. Jeez, if I had thought this out before, I could be going to school somewhere different. Somewhere more awesome. But what else would I even do? I've been thinking of doing political science and being a diplomat or something, but does BYU even have a good program? But I still like movies...

So, I'm confused. And I need a job. Really badly. Really really badly.

The road to Damascus

I got a pet about 2 months ago.















I took this Curly-Haired Tarantula off a boy I know who went on a mission. Acting on the suggestion of my sister, Claire, I named her Damascus. I was told that I didn't need to feed her until the end of April. They only eat once a month or so, apparently. So I didn't feed her, but problems arose whenever I attempted to take her out of the tank. She would whack me with her front legs whenever I stuck my hand in there. Partly upsetting, partly freakin' scary. After a while, I gave up and accepted the fact that my spider was frigid and high-strung. But lo, miracles do happen. After I finally got around to feeding her, ol' Damascus was as chummy as can be, as evidenced by the picture. So, I guess everything turned out okay. Now if I could only get some real friends...

See What I Mean?

P.S. I don't think I ever gave anyone any of this information

A slight misunderstanding...

I received a package from the good people at Gillette the other day. On the outside of the box it said things like YOUR GAMEFACE NEEDS A NEW RAZOR and YOU'RE 18. YOU'VE GOT GAME. AND NOW YOU'VE GOT A FREE RAZOR. Inside, just as promised, was a free razor, along with some other masculine hygiene products. Which are different than feminine hygiene products, as it turns out.

I'm not complaining (those razors are sweet), but I do run into this issue frequently. Most of my mail is addressed to a Mr. Drew Duncan. The army always sends me two of everything, one for Ms. Mercedes Duncan and one for Mr. Drew Duncan. Dang it, I thought that only my parents and I knew about my hunchbacked twin brother!

Drew! Leave the Schwan's man alone!

I'm fine with it, though. As long as I keep getting free stuff.

TODAY!

Cracklin' Rosie get on board...

Neil Diamond came to town and it was kind of an awesome, although he didn't look quite as good as he did in the above picture.

Forever in blue jeans, babe.

That's more like it. So, I went with my parents and my sister and about 10,000 old ladies to his concert. I discovered that it's actually kind of nice to go to a concert with a lot of old people because they don't/can't stand the whole time, which means I don't have to either. The elderly weren't the only denomination represented though. There was one guy dressed up as Santa. I also ran into a group of drunk women as they stormed the john. One of them farted very loudly in her stall and said, "That, girls, is what happens when you share a bathroom with me."
The concert was pretty good. Neil was in good voice, and he didn't disappoint in the sequins department. I did notice that he likes to point at the ceiling and do a squish face at the end of every song.

Hot August Night...

After he was done pointing, he would hunch over, apparently overpowered by his emotions, as the lights behind him created a dramatic silhouette.

Love on the rocks

At one point, he sauntered over to a conveniently placed table and had a conveniently placed glass of wine as he sang You Don't Bring Me Flowers.

I'm a Believer

I got a bit of a Vegas overload during the big America finale, when footage of a soaring bald eagle and a waving American flag was super-imposed over Neil pointing at the ceiling again on the big screen. Because Neil Diamond IS America. And the Brother Love number made me feel like I was at some Evangelical convention.

Pack up the babies...

Despite the shmaltz, or maybe because of it, I enjoyed the concert a lot. And no one spilled any beer on me.

Oh Hallow's Eve

My Halloween was an exciting one. My friend and I decided to go rent a scary movie. I wanted to rent something that was actually scary, but my friend revealed herself as a scary movie wuss. She did, however, say she was a big fan of the ever popular killer bee genre, which led her to choose a little known movie called Killer Buzz. So we watched it.
So in the movie, everyone in the world has agreed to build a road through the rainforest. Everyone is really happy about it because it somehow solves global warming. Everyone, that is, except the natives. The natives seem to be pretty angry about the whole thing, so they sneak up sneakily on the construction and start shooting flaming arrows, as natives tend to do. So begins the first of many shoot 'em ups that the movie seems to think happen often in the jungle. One of the naughty natives gets hold of a gun and hits a man in the forehead from 100 feet. Another one jumps in a tractor and reveals himself to be a tractor driving pro. Both impressive instances, considering neither man had ever seen a gun or a tractor before. Anyway, they both get shot and some more people get shot and a building blows up and another building blows up. And then the same indian doing a flip after an explosion goes off behind him shot is used three times.
Anyway, the smoke clears and there is a lot of carnage on both sides.
An itrepid lady british reporter who was present during all of this action decides that this is going to make a good story. So she grabs her cameraman and sets off into the jungle, in the middle of the night.
"What are you looking for?" he asks.
"I don't know"
"Well, where are you going to find it?"
"I'm not sure..."
They continue marching when, suddenly, some jeeps start chasing them. While the cameraman simply hides in some bushes, our reporter decides to fall off a cliff and continue to run after she lands. So the cars find her again and she ends up getting shot and this swarm of bees descend upon her and everthing goes black. I lost patience at this point, but i'll summarize the rest because i'm sure y'all want to know how it ends. The reporter lives (thank goodness) and her estranged husband is nice enough to come see her in this distant hospital, but all she can talk about is how he doesn't want to have kids. So the husband peaces out on a commercial flight to New York with, like, ten people on it. The passengers include an elderly couple, a yelling guy, a nervous looking asian woman, and a black guy. There are also two teenage girls on the flight, one of which spurs the advances of an unfortunate looking nerd boy.
"What do women want?" the boy asks the husband.
"Kid, when you figure that out, you tell me."
Anway, back in the rainforest, the reporter figures out that the army has engineered super-bees to kill off all the pesky natives that stand in their way. But something goes wrong as a selfish doctor finds a case of these bees and decides he can make some mad cash off of them. So he steals the case and happens to catch the same plane that the husband is on. The bees get loose, and zaniness ensues.
So passes an hour of endless blown up villages, bleeding eyeballs, guys hanging out of open doors of airplanes, and stock footage from Vietman. The bees are stopped and humanity is saved. Also, the reporter and her husband get back together and stroll off into the jungle.
I didn't pay for it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPKKBfIE5lg
Click here for a trailer.

Senior Pictures

So my mother set up an appointment to get me some senior pictures. I made her do it now so my glorious tan could be documented for the ages. Now, I have to admit that I'm not the most natural of photo subjects. Most of my school pictures are a unflattering combination of "just been tranquilized" eyes and "Someone has a knife to my back" smiles. So I was a little uncomfortable posing for these pictures. I was also worried that my posterity would look at them and say "WE DESCENDED FROM THAT?"
The photographer man was nice enough. The poses weren't that bad, although one of them made me feel like a cross between Miss America and Long John Silver. Picture that.
So, half an hour and one outfit change later, I was finished. This was my mother's favorite:












And this is me melting:












And this is me stuck in a cosmic whirlpool: