Two days ago, mild mannered Grant Paige went to LA to see his brother. Last night, Lobster Boy (Keeper of Peace, Defender of Justice, Really Really Sensitive to the Sun) returned in his place. How did this happen? It's a long story...that you only get to hear part of.

I just leaned back in my chair with no shirt on and it caused me to scream.

My brother's birthday is July 3rd. He, Chad, wanted me to go camping with him and his friend Josh for a day or two. "Sure," I said, not understanding the implications of the term "camping." I went to LA and we spend the night eating meat and watching the movie American Pimp. I had always seen this video on the shelves, but never even considered renting it. But it seems that this movie is not some horribly done movie about a pimp's life...it's a documentary about real pimps. They interviewed them, followed them around, and learned the philosophy on life that pimp's have. After watching this I have decided two things...one, my new life goal is to be a pimp and help girl's turn tricks, and two, is to call everyone "bitch" instead of any other name or pronoun. One of the pimps was on a phone, and here's how the conversation went: "Yeah, bitch? Ok bitch, what did I tell you? Exactly. Now bitch, I told you that all you need to do is to get out there, right bitch? Bitch you better trust me."

That night I slept on the hardwood floor in a house that was 85 degrees.

Six O'clock in the morning rolled around (the devil's time), and Chad's alarm clock went off, Josh's alarm clock went off, and Chad's wrist watch alarm clock went off. It was like the alarm clock's were rising up in power. Gaining more power from their fellow alarm clocks. I decided then and there that all alarm clocks needed to be silenced. We stumbled out of our various "beds" (Chad's the only one with a real bed there) and got ready. We drove an hour away to Lake Piru, pronounced pie-rue (which I thought would be cooler if it ended in "t" or "na") Once there, we rented a boat. I'm not talking a speed boat, or a pontoon boat, but a boat in the simplest sense of the word. It was blue, it held people, it had a motor (called a Johnson 4 Stroke, which I thought sounded more like a technique than an engine type) We then set out to watch my brother fish from about 10 to 7 with an hour lunch break. This meant I was face to face with my mortal enemy...the sun. Why do I dislike the sun so much? I'm pale. If you met me for the first time you would probably say, "Hi Grant...wow, you're pretty pale." This means that the sun and I do not mix too well. Like cream and liquor.

Needless to say (wow, "needless" with one less "s" is "needles", cool) I came home with a very very red back. Somehow only my back got burnt. This means that for the next week or so, everyone I see will, totally out of character, slap me on the back really hard when they say hi.

Quote of the week: "I could fit God in this backpack."

Oh, and everyone needs to check out Sigur Ros (pronounced see-yer-oh-s) They are this incredible band that sings totally in Hopelandic. Worth your time.