Adventures in the John Wayne Airport

I'm home in California for my Christmas vacation. Before my dad starts using me as free slave labor, I thought I would regale you all with a tale of my adventures in the John Wayne Airport. As with any good adventure, I will start it off as any good story should be started...So there I was, casually walking down the baggage claim section of the airport, trying to find my baggage carousel. The sun was shining, and the wind blowing outside. Apparently some people's private wind was blowing inside too. Ladies and Gentlemen, I was the victim of crop dusting. For those not familiar with the term, its when somebody breaks wind and then walks around spreading their toxic fumes. I know who the culprit was given the fact there was only one person walking in front of me at the time. It was a short, portly, blonde woman wearing a pink velour track suit. Disrespectful. Immediately I grimaced because there is no point in hiding my emotions when falling victim to such acts. As soon as she turned toward a different carousel the smell disappeared, which only further my validation of who it was. Sweetheart, your farts don't smell of roses so please keep them to yourself or in the privacy of your car. Be aware of your surroundings and the people standing less than 10 feet behind you. Had I been holding a can of febreeze I would have sprayed you like I would my roommates.
That being said I have also dispelled the myth that women don't fluff (a term my dad was use.)
Well all of that aside, Merry Christmas everyone!

Dream on! (Read it like Aerosmith, you will feel that much cooler)

Maybe its because I have been taking nyquil before bed, or maybe its because I just have an awesome imagination, but lately I have been waking up having had some crazy awesome dreams. The kicker is that I can't remember them five minutes after being awake. My little sister Alyson used to always google dream interpretations to try and found out the meaning of hers. Whenever she would tell me her dream I would just find ways to interpret her dreams that she is secretly a lesbian. She doesn't tell me her dreams anymore ha ha. But enough about her, I love that I have been having cool dreams. Psychologically I don't know what any of them mean, nor do I know why I can't remember the details of them, but I am just glad I wake up feeling refreshed and that I didn't pull an Andre the Giant and just not wake up at all....(Andre the giant is the big dude in The Princess Bride for those who are not familiar with their pro wrestler history. And seriously, he died in his sleep which is why I even mentioned him anyway. Come to think of it, that is an awful way to end a blog post so instead Ill let the last thing you read be MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!)

101 Arabian Nights

It is not uncommon for people to tell me I look Jewish or Middle Eastern. In Russia, people would always ask me if I was a jew, but then were somehow very disappointed when I told them I was Mormon. My sister-in-law always calls me ER-ab-IC which when said correctly sounds like arabic. Its a rather clever play on my name. Not too long ago I grew out a 3 week beard and I was told that I looked like a young moses (very famous jew). Not too long ago I sported a fake mustache for a christmas card photo and looked more middle eastern then ever thought possible. Ill share the Christmas card photos later, but in the mean time, enjoy Arabian/Jewish Eric....