Sunday, January 30, 2011


Dear Reader,
My first thought when I woke up this morning was this: Is oatmeal a solid or a liquid? My chemistry class seems to be heightening my curiosity on the matter. I mean, it's goopy as all get out, but it sure as heck stays in my bowl when I flip it upside-down. After an embarrassing amount of contemplation, I decided it's a hybrid. A sliquid, if you will. That quaker man is one magic dude.

My Brother Justin inspired the focus of my blog today. And no, it's not about Star Wars. I've decided to list what I think are the 6 best song intros that I've encountered. "6 is an odd number," you might be thinking. Well 3 is too few, 10 is too many, and my 5's tend to resemble 'S's. So deal with it.

#6 Somewhere Over the Rainbow- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
Ultimate road trip song. The intro, for whatever reason, automatically stops my clock and makes me appreciate the beautiful world that surrounds me. This presents quite the challenge driving through Chubbick, Idaho. But really, a ukulele mixed with a soft "Ooh"ing Hawaiian man? Primo. Absolutely Primo.

#5 Starstruck- Lady Gaga
"Groove. Slam. Work it back. Filter that. Baby, bump that track." Shallow as it may sound, the beat that goes along with it is pretty sick. Now tell me if there is anything cooler than a chick in a meat dress telling you how to live your life? I rest my case.

#4 Shake the Disease- Depeche Mode
Creepy "Oohs" followed immediately by a steady beat and what sounds to me like a skeleton getting his rib cage played by his femur bone. Genius. It's intriguing in a very Tim Burton-esque manner. Suttle fear shoved in a blender with 80's emo pop.

#3 America- Simon and Garfunkle
The soft, harmonizing hum of this brilliant 70's duo kicks this intro off right. Ending each phrase with a twangy (but not in a gross country style) guitar measure. So peaceful. Listening to it is as if you've just completed a 60 minute yoga class taught by Morgan Freeman's soothing voice. I can only imagine.

#2 Touch Me- The Doors
Insert keyboard-doo doo doo dodo doo dodo doo (x5) "Come on Come on Come on Come on now touch me babe, can't you see that I am not afraid?" dodo dodo! Dear Jim Morrison, you're gorgeous. In a sexy James Dean sort of way. I don't think any woman in the right mind could resist a request like that.

#1 Seven Nation Army- The White Stripes
A simple 7-note base line is apparently all you need to start a head-banging rock song. And of this I'm a fan. The first four measures leave you desperately wanting more. And by the time the 5th measure begins and you discover they added a symbol...BAM! Mind officially blown. So plain, yet so brilliant!! And very deserving of spot numero uno on my pathetic little Sunday afternoon listo.

So there ya go Reader. The top 6. All unique, all attention-getting, and all nothing that Roseanne Barr would listen to. I'd say it's a win-win-win, wouldn't you?

-The Swampman

Sunday, January 23, 2011

the folks.

Dear Reader,
My mind isn't sending out any sarcastic vibes today. In fact, my heart is quite softened. I realized today how truly blessed I am to have the parents I have. I've always been told that everyone is in your life for a reason. But that has never had much depth to me. I took the time today to think about my mom and dad, and the impacts they have had on me. I was overcome with emotion when the faces of these two angels came to my mind.

My mother, Julie Nash Reeves, is a literal heavenly being. Never have I known someone so selfless. She's loving to everyone, despite the way they treat her, and that's something I severely envy. She had her ear drum blown out when she was 7 years old, which left her half deaf. And yet she is one of the most talented pianists I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. She has been my crying shoulder, my partner in crime, my co-conspirator in cross word puzzles, my comforting light in the dark, my stand-up comedian on bad days, my maker of chocolate milk on good days, but most of all, my best friend through and through. Over Christmas break, she stayed up til 2 a.m. with me, while we talked in our Minnesota accents and ate tapioca pudding, because she knew I would be leaving the next morning. Now that's a true friend ladies and gentlemen. Her guilty pleasure is a song with a fly beat, and don't let her classical training tell you otherwise. Countless times did I come home from school and find her dancing like a fool in the kitchen. I love that about her. She has always allowed her children to pursue whatever hobbies they desire. For young Sammi this included baton twirling, finger painting, bird watching, and rapping Dr. Suess books. I thought I really had a chance with that last one. She has taught me to always look on the bright side of every situation, and to laugh my way through life. I love you Mom, and happy 29th birthday! Next years gonna be a big one!

My life wouldn't be what it is if it wasn't for my dad, Shawn Reeves. His life is centered on service. Service to his wife, his children, his friends and neighbors, and even those he doesn't know. His heart is overflowing with compassion and charity, and it shows in the way he treats others. He never fails in bringing me back a treat when he takes his 2 hour long trips to Costco. He always checks the fluids and tire pressure in my car whenever I come home to visit, to make sure I can make it back up safely. I don't think he understands how much that means to me. His punny jokes have led our family through hard times and happy times. Unfortunately, we have all adopted this sense of humor. My dad's motto is this: "We need more Cowbell." It's applicable to more situations than you'd think. His respect for the Priesthood has been such a treasure in my home. I never have to worry about asking him for a blessing, because he is always more than willing. Growing up, I was awakened every Saturday morning with the blasting of Boston, The Eagles, The Who, and whoever sings that weird "Toast and Marmalade" song. This meant time to spiff up the house or pull weeds out of the garden. He always made it enjoyable though. I've never heard my dad raise his voice or say anything unkind to my mom. I love the respect and admiration he has for her. What can I say? My dads a stud.
So Daddy, I love you with my whole heart. I can't thank you enough for everything you have done for me.

I was lucky enough to be the last kid at home, and got two years with them all by myself. Without a doubt some of the best times of my life. Hot tubbing, late night Del Taco, Owlz games galore, Jeopardy every night, and epic trips to California. I love you guys. You are the anchor in my life. I'm pretty sure I cried enough for the three of us writing this, so don't get all sappy on me :)

Friday, January 14, 2011

my system.

Dear Reader,
Happy weekend. Let the sleeping in and lack of showering begin. As I write this, I'm reminded of a classic Saturday morning cartoon titled "The Weekenders." Just to jog your memory, Lor and Tino were the blondies that secretly had the hots for each other, Tish was the weird ginger vegetarian chick, and Carver was the athletic heart throb. In each episode a problem would arise on Friday, escalate on Saturday, and find its resolution on Sunday evening. It was something you could count on.

I realized on my way home tonight that I have a system. A sequence of events that I compulsively do when I make the voyage home from work. It goes a little something like this:

Leave Millville elementary at approximately 5:42.

Go to track 10 on whatever cd is in my player.

Sing at the top of my lungs during vocals, and dance during instrumental breaks.

When passing the Korean BBQ on Main Street, peer through the glass windows and see if business is strong. I have a certain creepy warm spot in my heart for the old, small-framed Korean man who owns it. I have the utmost desire for him to have a long and happy life. Ironic aspect of this? I refuse to eat there. My tummy is too much of a precious, sensitive jewel.

Further up on the right is the Logan Tabernacle. Every Friday, a compilation of old folks and hippies gather with freshly made signs and protest war. Although I don't necessarily agree, I highly support their efforts at being politically active and making use of their rights. I share my admiration with a rousing honk as I drive past. Pathetic as it may seem, it makes my night every week.

Pull into my parking spot at approximately 5:54, and absolutely must finish listening to the song that is currently playing.

There is no lenience in my routine. But I rather like having a controlled aspect in my wild and crazy life. I encourage you to set your own quirky routine. Whether its shimmying when you pass Mcdonalds, waving your hand out the window at the local hobo, or listening to cheesy Lionel Richie songs on Thursdays, I promise the silliness thereof will make your day a lot brighter. So shine on, dear Reader, shine on.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

vampire weekend.

Dear Reader,
I made a delightful discovery yesterday whilst browsing the charming strip that is Main Street in Logan. It would seem Books of Yesterday has an edited movie section. I felt like the angels were singing and Phil Collins no longer existed. Thus, overjoyed. This finally gives me the opportunity to watch so many of those iconic American films I've always wanted to see, without the extra "stuff" in it that I don't particularly appreciate. So with the help of my dearest friend, Emily Landeen, the saga of constant renting began.

Number one on my list has always been "The Lost Boys." Classic 80's Vamp pic. A little on the cheesy side, but kept me completely entertained. My one beef is that Corey Feldman felt some strange desire to speak in a noticeably fake lower voice. Really Corey? We all saw The Goonies, you're screechy.

Next flick was "Interview with the Vampire." It's depressing when the comic relief in a movie is when a young Keirsten Dunst sucks the life out of her piano teacher. Very traditional vampire themes though. Just a little too dark for my taste. It did however bring to my attention that Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series is 1,000+ pages of pure plagiarism. I could go into more detail, but then I'd have to think about Robert Pattinson's constipated glare, and that's not a pleasant sight for anyone.

So Reader, my mini vampire weekend was a success. I ended the night with good ole "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" to avoid blood-sucking nightmares. Vamp flick? No. Unbelievably off the chain? Yes.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

the far too convenient truth.

Dear Reader,
Five days is the national average for people keeping their New Years goals. In that case, happy "Giving Up My Resolutions Day!" Three resolutions that are notorious for failing 68.7% of the time include improving one's physique, conquering everyday fears, and finally pursuing that "Special Someone." I'm here to give you the ultimate advice on how to make these infamous resolutions become actualities in your life. Shall we begin?

Let's talk bodies. 92% of Americans are currently unhappy with their body.
First things first, start loving yourself. A positive attitude will shed 48% of those unwanted pounds. Believe it. The other 52% will simply come from this: lifting food cans for five minutes every night, and cutting out those darn orange Doritos. A word of caution- make sure the contents of your cans are equal in weight. I certainly wouldn't want you to end your year's journey with a baked beans muscle in one arm and a pringles lump in the other.

For fears, I have the only proven antidote. Whether it's a slight germophobia, or an intense fear of bees, Melanie Watt's award winning novel "Scaredy Squirrel" does the trick. It's the tale of a small squirrel who never leaves his nut tree. He lets his fears control his woodland creature lifestyle. It also includes charming illustrations, wacky fonts, and best of all, a fold out page. These 34 pages of pure gold will resolve 46.1% more of your problems than the leading psychotherapists. Believe it. Buy it. Live it.

79.8% of Americans are too nervous to reach out to the person of their fancy.
Believe it. Let's cut the unnecessary drama this year and make a change. Stop simply staring across the room at your crush. This year, make up lame excuses to walk past them at least 4 times a day. If this doesn't get you noticed, it will at least burn off those orange Doritos you sneaked the night before. 2011 is the year for boldness, so stop leaving those creepy secret-admirer notes, and start signing your dang name.

Dear Reader, my suggestions are fail-proof. I highly advise you to take them into consideration as you make significantly easier resolutions for yourself tomorrow on National "Yikes That Was Hard, It's Time To Simplify My Resolutions Day." Believe it.

(Disclaimer: Statistics used in this post are 99.9% false)