The Smiling Infidel Is Your Guide To Deviant Geology



It's of vital importance to learn something new each and every day. Today, the mini-Infidels learned of a magical body of water situated between Peru and Bolivia and bearing a majestically regal name......LAKE TITICACA! Reportedly the names Lake Boobycrap and Lake Tatapoo were already taken. Interesting to note that this could possibly be the place where Lola and Tony danced their last at the Titi.....Titicaca......stupid 70's censors changing Titicaca to Copacabana.



I recently became intimately acquainted with several variations of schist. I touched schist with my bare hands in the Geology lab and I was like "Oh SCHIST.....I got schist all over my hands!" I then told my lab partner that I thought he was the "SCHIST." Not surprisingly I had to study a lot of schist for my test. Schist, I can't wait for this semester to be over. This schist's too hard.....even though I am full of schist most of the time.

This be SHALE. Sentences uttered by me during the course of the class rock practical:

• "Oh SHALE no!"
• "What the SHALE?"
• "Yeah? Well you can just go to SHALE!"

Nobody is clamoring to be my Geology lab partner. I'm not really sure what the SHALE is going on with that. :(



This is a diagram of an AQUITARD. It's politically incorrect to say this but........ you know Clay? Yeah, it's true, Clay is a total aquitard! Remember shale? Shale is one of the biggest aquitards around! "You Might Be An Aquitard.........." That's going to be my signature routine when I hit the Geology standup comedy circuit. Will you be there to see me and cheer for me? No? Pssssshhhhhh, you're such a freakin' AQUITARD!

*****I'm the oldest student by far in this class filled with impressionable youngins. We have to use hydrochloric acid a lot in Geology. I told my teenage lab partner that now he can tell his friends that he was looking at cleavage, dropping acid, and rocking out at school. His horrified expression was priceless.*****

And The Great Pumpkin Smiled Down Upon The Infidel Family

I hope the Great Pumpkin never finds out about my GREAT PUMPKIN PIE recipe. Yeah, that might be kind of awkward, especially if the Great Pumpkin reads the noted remark revealing how much I love my GREAT PUMPKIN PIE slathered up in whipped cream.
It just sends the wrong sort of message.
So does my other recipe for GREAT PUMPKIN NUT BREAD, but we won't go there.

Well, never let it be said that my back-breaking, so-irritating, low-compensating, bowel-restraining, soul-maiming job doesn't have its perks.

I drove past an open field this morning and spotted these poor orphaned pumpkins just forlornly lying there entrenched in the tall wispy weeds with their Cheeto-hued shell covered in brownish grime and frothy bubbles of dewy wetness--remnants of the recently evaporated early morning mist.

Okay, yeah, that sounds much more flowery and eloquent than saying I saw a bunch of filthy orange gourd thingies that appeared as though they'd recently taken a tumble through a Manure Maze, right?

Anyway, the space surrounding the pumpkin orphans was littered with broken pumpkin carcasses and stringy pumpkin guts.

Love is a battlefield and so too is a Pumpkin Patch turned Pumpkin War Zone.

This was obviously the work of the produce-killing comedian Gallagher who's looking to disband his Smashing Watermelons group so he can join up with the newly reformed Smashing Pumpkins.

Practice makes perfect.

Or maybe notorious pumpkin serial killer, Peter The Pumpkin Eater is on the loose again.
I don't really know who the guilty party is here. That's for the Pumpkin CSI team to determine.

I jumped out of my mighty Infidel truck and hurriedly rushed over to the field where I scooped up the pumpkin smash survivors and relocated them to my Infidel Truck/Pumpkin Rehabilitation & Adoption Center. Then I headed home.

My mini-Infidels swarmed out of the house, excited to meet their new found pumpkin buddies.

I let them each adopt the pumpkin of their choice provided that they solemnly swear to never use the pumpkins as a bowling ball.

They're also strictly forbidden from terrorizing the neighborhood in a Legend Of Sleepy Hollow re-enactment.

I'm fine with the mini-Infidels utilizing a hollowed-out pumpkin as a bike helmet, though.

Oh, Great Pumpkin, thank you for thy bounteous blessings. I never doubted that you were real. Not even for a nanosecond.

*So, pumpkins this size are about 4-5 bucks on average around here. I picked up 8 intact pumpkins. That's like finding $32.00. I wasn't even going to splurge on buying pumpkins this year because it's clearly classified as "Frivolous Expense" in the family budget.

If I can convince the mini-Infidels not to carve the pumpkins up, we'll have a natural autumn yard decor until the end of November.*

A Day In The Life Of Your Average Infidel

Sunday marked the last performance for Cirque Du Soleil here in Houston. All us Infidels felt a twinge of sadness knowing that we only had one more day to gawk and wave dorkily to these incredible people before they packed up and left our neighborhood for the undoubtedly paradisaical stadium parking lot in beautiful Columbus, Ohio. *cough* So, two of my mini-Infidels accompanied me yesterday to Kroger's grocery. And what to our wondering eyes should appear? But 3 Cirque performers/technicians buying beer! I didn't want to bother them but curiosity got the better of me. I stood there interrogating two of the guys in the frozen food aisle, with a whole barrage of Cirque daily life questions. They smiled politely, and answered my queries with sexy French accents. Oooh la la! Then, after our purchases, as we strolled towards the exit doors, I spied the hulking giant of a man that played a clown in the show. I guess for contrast comedic effect the Corteo writers thought it funny to pair him with the teeny, tiny Gregory. Guess what? He wore socks with sandals and a dirty faded out shirt! He only purchased St.Pauli Girl beer, and a pack of Saint Arnold beer, (Hey, you hoser, the man likes his Saints, okay?) and two bags of Kroger rolls. Ahhhh, beer and rolls- the breakfast of champions! We talked to him too, but sadly, his low-pitched mumbling would need an interpreter fluent in the language of Eddie Vedder and Bob Dylan to translate.

As if the day could get any better, I came home and found an unexpected package from the hottest of the hottest, Miss Hot Fruita Mom herself, Annie! She sent me a lovely note pad tied with a lovely ribbon and made even better with the lovely note attached to it. So lovely. But then, I wouldn't expect anything less than loveliness from Annie, because she's a lovely person. And I got to speak on the phone with two of my most favorite people, Carrot Jello and No Cool Story.

All of these events happened while I wore my crusty sweatpants. I did feel a little embarrassed talking to people involved in Cirque awesomeness while wearing sweatpants with flip-flops, and my greasy hair hanging in strings. I even felt embarrassed opening mail from fashion forward Annie while looking so wretched. But now, I'm convinced, that exciting things only happen to me when I look my worst. I may never wash my hair or take off these sweatpants again.......