Take it all in and cherish this moment, because me posting on the blog is rarer than bigfoot eating Jack Links Beef Jerky under a waxing gibbous moon on a leap year. Side note: Have you ever wondered if bigfoot was actually blurry in real life? Like... maybe it's not the camera guy's fault. There's actually a huge blurry creature wondering around the countryside. I don't know about you, but that's extra scary to me. I realize that I've already lost most of the readers at this point, since you've realized that the rest of this post will be mostly nonsense and on top of that, your favorite writer-- Andrew-- isn't at the helm of the keyboard. But let's face it guys... I don't really do this for you. This is 100% for my own personal entertainment. It's true. Sorry to be so mean about it.
Oh, look at the time... I've already spent waaaay more time than the 5 minutes I had originally alotted to putting together this poor excuse for a blog entry, so let me keep this short. For the sake of time and energy (I'm still a blog slacker at heart, remember?), I've condensed all of my thoughts about the entire trip thus far into an acrostic poem. For those of you out there that did not go to elementary school, an acrostic poem is "a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable, or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message" (per Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Acrostic. Accessed 22 April 2014. Available from: <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrostic>). The title of my poem is MONTANA. Yeah, yeah, yeah... real original... I know. See if you can find the acrostic within the acrostic... Complex... I knowwww... It's like inception in the poetry world.
MONTANA
Miles of nature that always necessitates ambulation
Only the west side of the state has mountains
No fish exist in the entire state
Takes forever to get anywhere
Always dropping phone calls like I just ate a bag full of buttery popcorn
Nothing of interest in the entire east half of the state
America, the beautiful
Well, there you have it folks. What do you have? I don't know. But thanks for reading. If you're one of the 1.7% that made it all the way to the end, good for you. I might lick your ear or shake your hand the next time I see you... I haven't decided which yet, so be on the lookout if you don't like handshakes. I'll promptly file your certificate of completion away in the cylinder file under the sink.
Stay tuned for more updates on the sweet life of Josh and Andy (he hates it when I call him that)... or don't.
P.S. Sorry if all the posts for this trip seemed delayed, since I'm sure you were all sitting at the edge of your seats to see what would happen next. As the official blog photographer, it is my responsibility to get all the pictures and media to Andrew in a timely manner. I have clearly neglected this duty, and for that reason, I'm officially resigning from the position.... April Fools! But I promise I'll do everything in my power to stay the same and keep sending pictures to Andrew in a very delayed and drawn out fashion.
For this post, I included a picture of the Wolf Point class of 1967. This motley bunch yielded a vast array successful people... Stephen Hawking, Joe Theisman, Morgan Freeman, and Betty White-- just to name a few. To the untrained brain, this picture seems completely random and meaningless. However, it serves to accomplish three very important goals:
1. It's a great space filler since I'm using my iPad to write and I'm too lazy to make any effort to sync photos to it
2. It serves as a motivator to keep the tradition of Wolf Point excellence going strong as we teach Indians about diabetes and stuff
3. I couldn't come up with a third reason but I already told you that there were three goals
4. I lied... there's actually four goals but I still can't remember the third or fourth
