I realize that I haven’t been blogging as much the last few weeks. I apologize. Lately I have been finishing up other writing projects, and in doing so I have neglected my favorite child, www.seanssabbatical.com. I feel like an absent father.
Because of my parental negligence, I am vowing that next week, from May 3rd to May 7th, it will be…
Seanssabbatical Mega Week!
This means that I will be updating the website daily! Everything you want in a website you will find here!
Want funny pictures of celebs?
I’ll have them!
Want to watch videos of dogs being hilarious?
I’ll have them!
Want political gossip?
“I hear Obama is part Avatar!“
I’ll have some!
Want humorous stories from my past?
Here I am in a classroom at an intense speech competition, and I might get kicked out because I can’t stop laughing at the white goobers on the corners of the speaker’s mouth.
I’ll have them!
For the entire week I will be devoting as much of my time and energy that I can to updating this website frequently. It’s going to be insane! So to all of you crazy seanssabbatical mega fans, clear your schedules and get ready for my biggest blogging week to date!
I was 8 years old. I hadn’t been sledding all year, and my friend’s dad had promised to take us after school.
Like any other 8 year old, I had done my fair share of sledding. My family had a long blue plastic sled that we used every winter, and I had become very comfortable with it. Unfortunately I didn’t bring it on this trip, so instead I had to use the extra grey tin saucer sled that my friend had.
My family had one of those sleds in our garage. However my brother and I never used it because it looked old, dangerous and stupid. But I guess my friend’s parents refused to fork over the $7 it cost to buy a sled from the twentieth century, so these were the only kind that they had. I was skeptical about using an unfamiliar sled, but I was assured that they were just as fun.
We went sledding at the Wing Park Pavilion in Elgin, Il.
This was, and still may be, a local hot spot for sledding. You have to look in the back of the picture to see the hill, and seeing it now I realize that it looks pretty weak. But as a child this hill was Mt. Everest.
For our first run, my friend and I decided to go down the hill on our tin death sleds at the same time. As we began, it immediately became obvious that my friend was an expert at controlling these sleds… and it immediately became clear that I had no idea what I was doing.
For about one second we were traveling along side each other. Then he decided to slow down his speed, while I did nothing of the sort because I didn’t know how. Keep in mind that I’m 8 years old and unaware that the physics behind slowing down a sled is consistent regardless of what model or brand is being used.
I was flying down this hill at a dangerous speed. Then about halfway down, as I was approaching the sound barrier, my saucer sled spun my body around 180 degrees without decreasing in speed.
Now I was going down this hill backwards at a speed that in only reached in time travel experiments. As the picture above shows, there are scattered trees on this hill. On top of that, on this particular day this place was packed with fellow sledders. So not being able to see in front of me is the worst thing that could happen.
I vaguely remember my friend yelling, “jump off!” But I was so terrified that my body was in a state of comatose. All I could do was hold onto that sled and hope that there was a God.
By some miracle I avoided all the trees and innocent bystanders. But that didn’t mean I was in the clear. If you look at the picture again you will notice a group of benches at the bottom of the hill. That day, while going down that hill backwards at the speed of light, I slammed back first into the corner of one of those benches.
It immediately knocked the wind out of me. I blacked out for a second, and when I came to there was a bunch of kids staring at me with shocked expressions. They probably thought they just saw a kid die right before their eyes.
I decided to get up. This must have scared the kids even more, because when I got up, because the wind had gotten knocked out of me, I was making this noise…
The kids just stared as I was stumbling towards them. I remember one kid saying,
“Shit, are you alright?”
But I couldn’t stop making that noise, and I couldn’t walk straight. I imagine with my moaning and crippled posture, I looked a lot like Frankenstein. And just like kids do when they see Frankenstein, they all ran away from me when I got too close. My friend’s dad rushed down to help me out, and after catching my breath and getting the feeling back in my spine, I headed towards the top of the hill.
Because of my horrific experience, I was hesitant to sled anymore. As my friend and his little brother went up and down the hill, I stayed at the top and observed. My friend’s dad, feeling bad for me, went back to his car and got a different sled that he thought I might be more comfortable with. It turned out to be the same type of long plastic sled that I was accustomed to.
What the hell?!? This guy had this in his trunk the whole time?!? He put me on his rocket ship widow maker sled when he had a plastic one designed to not kill children in his trunk all along?!? I was baffled. But I was also ready to sled again.
When my friend and his brother were sledding without me, they kept hitting a manmade ramp that was built at the bottom of the hill. They did it with ease, and the air time they were getting was nothing that would suggest that this was a dangerous undertaking. So I decided to forget about the past and dominate the ramp at the bottom of the hill.
I was off. I was going down the hill at a reasonable speed while controlling my sled’s every maneuver. I was in my comfort zone, and as I approached the ramp, I was proud of my sledding abilities.
I hit the ramp.
……….
I have very few visual memories from my early childhood. If I had to count them, I would say that I can visually remember about four or five things. What I experienced here was one of them.
After hitting the ramp, I was immediately looking at my legs and feet against a winter sky backdrop. Confused? So was I.
For reasons unknown, instead of simply hitting a bump and going over it, the ramp threw me into the air at a 90 degree angle. As a visual, imagine the kid in this picture, only instead of laying on the ground, I’m six feet above the ground and flying.
It seemed like I was in the air for hours. I knew I was in for a crash landing, and all I could do was brace myself. Eventually I hit the ground, falling on my back and hitting my head onto the pavement.
What a terrible day. I was so excited two hours earlier. But at this point I had tried sledding twice, and I had failed twice. I was done. There was no way I was going down that hill anymore. Ever. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been on that hill since.
My friend’s dad rushed down the hill again and helped me back up. I was a wreck. I couldn’t stop getting hurt. I felt like the coyote from the roadrunner cartoons. His dad realized that I had been through enough trauma and decided to take me home. When I walked into my house my mom asked me if I had fun. Instead of explaining my story, I just broke down and cried.
Today I was thinking about what I would have to eat if I was being granted my last meal on death row. When I was trying to come up with the perfect feast, I devised a brilliant plan.
First off, I’m not exactly sure why I would be on death row. I’m not aggressive, mean or strong, so murder is out of the picture. I’m a slow driver, so excessive speeding violations wont work either. I don’t even cross the street anywhere other than at the corner of the block, eliminating jaywalking as the reason our judicial system has sentenced me to death. (If in the future I am on death row for something like too many speeding tickets or jaywalking, it means that I’m living in either Afghanistan, Iran or Texas). Regardless, for the sake of creating a realistic scenario, I’ll just say that I’ve been sentenced to death for being too cute.
Back to my meal. Typically people want to make their last meal delicious. But I would want a disgusting last meal. Something like raw horse liver covered in Ipecac, a syrupy substance that induces vomiting.
This is where my master plan begins.
Because of the Ipecac, my stomach will become upset and I will have to puke for the next couple of hours. MSNBC weekend programming has taught me that police guards are irritable and impatient, and eventually I will be in the bathroom for so long that they’ll grow frustrated and decide to postpone the execution until the next day.
Well guess what that means: I get another last meal. And guess what I’m ordering…
“Maitre d’, I’ll have the usual: horse liver covered in Ipecac. Thanks doll.”
I will repeat this process everyday. What are they going to do? Legally they can’t deny me of my requested last meal, no matter how outrageous it is.*
After months of this, not only are the guards at their wits end, but now I have a Hollywood hot bod due to all the vomiting. Then on the day when my grumpy guards have gone to fetch my two-hundredth last meal, I’ll slip my Calista Flockhart-esque frame through the bars and run to freedom.
What do you call it when a child is sleeping at 2 p.m.?
A kid-napping!
It’s probably my best joke to date. It’s just too bad that the word ‘kidnapping’ is the punch line. Otherwise it could be printed on a Laffy Taffy wrapper, thus turning me into a published author. But I’m guessing Laffy Taffy and its Communist censors would frown upon using the word ‘kidnapping’ in a humorous manner.
Lately I’ve been trying to think of things that I could do that would get me into the Guinness Book of World Records. But I’ve had no success.
Earlier today, while I was still trying to think of a way to get Sean and Guinness into the same sentence without an embarrassing drunken public urination story to follow, I noticed that my refrigerator was making the same annoying sound that it has been making for weeks. It annoys me more and more each day, and I’m afraid one day my girlfriend will come home to this…
Then it hit me. I could make a world record for something that probably isn’t even a world record at this point. After getting past my nerves and practicing for minutes, I decided I would document me breaking the world record for…
Longest Time A Human Being Has Imitated His Noisy Refrigerator
Therefore I would be a Guinness World Record holder, and at the same time mock my fridge on the internet. It’s the ultimate insult any major appliance can receive, and maybe after this is posted the oven will inform him that his annoying noise making is being played all over the internet, which might finally shut him up.
My record attempt is below. You may need to listen hard to hear the noise my fridge makes.
“Who are the top three people you’d want to meet?”
When I’m asked that I have no idea what to say. I’ve never put that much thought into it. But I decided today that I wanted to come up with a response that I know would be unique, even if it wasn’t true. Here it goes.
Judas
People are always putting Jesus in their top three. I want to flip the script and talk to the guy who betrayed Jesus. It’d be fun to make fun of him a little.
“You do know that was God’s kid, right?” – me
“Not at the time. Have people forgotten about it yet?” – Judas
“Not really.” – me
I’d inform him that the name Judas is now an adjective used to describe someone that is a bad friend. Then I don’t know… maybe we’d talk about football or something.
Hector Villanueva
Who?
Hector played catcher for the Cubs from 1990-1992, and has very impressive career statistics: Batting Average of .230, 25 total home runs, and a staggering 72 total career RBI’s. The reason I picked him is because I want someone that is so not impressive to meet that people get mad at me when they hear that he is in my top three.
“You’re not taking this question seriously.” – person asking me
“I’m offended that you think that.” – me
For all I know I have already met Hector Villanueva. I don’t know what he looks like now. He might be my neighbor. He might be my uncle. Whatever he is, he has made it on my top three people to meet list.
The Kid That Stole My Stuffed Animal At The Fair When I Was Little
(Picture is what I’m guessing he looks like)
I set down my brand new stuffed frog so I could use the bathroom, and no more than twenty seconds later it was gone. I was devastated, and it was this act of violence (I consider it an act of violence) that made me unable to trust children. Even today, when I’m walking down the street with all my stuffed animals, I’ll freak if I see a child. So I want to meet this jerk and tell him how he is responsible for my distrust for kids, and how he essentially ruined my life. Then I’ll steal his car or something to get even.
It was two nights ago and I was watching the Men’s NCAA National Championship game. I was in good spirits because earlier the Cubs had won their opening day game against the Braves. (I turned it off after the top of the 1st knowing that they would win. If you try telling me that they lost by more than 10, I won’t believe you.)
At about 10pm, the NCAA game was nearing its end. Butler was down by one, and they took a timeout with 13 seconds left. This was so exciting that I decided to get up on my feet. They came out of the timeout and got back onto the court when…
BOOM!
… a lightning bolt hit the telephone pole located about 20 feet from where I was standing. No joke.
I love watching thunderstorms, so that night I had the shades open. At the moment of impact there was a thunderous boom and a huge flash of light that I saw out of the corner of my eye. I looked out the window to see sparks pouring down from the telephone pole.
Probably thinking that I finally blew up the oven, my girlfriend ran out of the bedroom startled and wondering what just happened. I told her about the lightning bolt and pointed at the telephone pole, which was now slightly on fire.
I was excited. This was closest I ever came to lightning, and I immediately thought of the Saved by the Bell episode where Screech got hit by lightning and could tell the future. Even though I didn’t get hit, maybe I was close enough to the lightning bolt to have gained at least a little psychic ability. “I’m going to buy a lotto ticket tomorrow,” I thought to myself. But then I quickly realized a problem.
The electricity was out.
With 13 seconds left in one of the greatest NCAA final games in history, a damn lightning bolt struck the nearest telephone pole and cut the electricity. It was like something that would happen on According to Jim.
About fifteen minutes later the fire department showed up, and a lone fireman walked up to the telephone pole and shone his flashlight towards the top of it. I thought to myself, “I can be a great help!” So I went downstairs and approached the fireman with vital information.
“That pole was hit by lighting.”
This was no help at all. They had undoubtedly gotten a phone call about a telephone pole getting hit by lightning, and it was obvious that the telephone pole with the tiny electrical fire was the one that was hit. He responded with,
“I know.”
Hmmm. Awkward. I thought I would lighten the mood.
“The electricity went out with 13 seconds left in the basketball game. You think I can get a discount from Comcast?”
I don’t know what I expected him to say here. Maybe deep down I was hoping that he would say, “That’s hilarious! You know, my brother is a Hollywood agent and he’s looking for some talent! A fresh voice like yours would be perfect! Here’s his number!” But that wasn’t the case. His response was,
“I don’t know.”
(Four second pause)
“We got called here with three seconds left in the game.”
I replied, ”bummer.”
“………..”
I didn’t know what to say. Should I thank him for his service? Should I tell him that he’s a hero? After standing there for an uncomfortable twenty seconds, I decided to just say, “good night.”
With no electricity and no battery operated cable televisions laying around, I went to sleep. The next thing I know…
BEBEBEBEBEBEBEBE!!!!!!!!
It’s four a.m. and the fire alarm is going off. Me and the girlfriend wake up in a panic since we’ve never heard the fire alarm go off before… which is obvious considering how we both reacted to it.
My emergency reaction was to get up and run to the bathroom, because I really had to go. While in there I could hear our neighbors evacuating the building. When I got out of the bathroom, the girlfriend was on a chair, disconnecting our smoke detector. Unfortunately the smoke detector was not the alarm that was going off… it was the apartment complex’s fire alarm.
So basically, in the event of a crisis, my initial emergency response is to use to the bathroom, and her initial emergency response is to disconnect any device that is warning us of the emergency. I don’t see fireman in our occupational futures.
We quickly got dressed and headed outside. Since I was hurrying, I didn’t really pay attention to my wardrobe until we were surrounded by our neighbors. I quickly realized that I was wearing pajama pants and a seven year old University of Illinois long sleeved shirt with a huge hole in the nipple.
Understand that this fire drill is the first time I have seen many of the people that live in my building, and my attire was that of a struggling stripper. To make things worse, a majority of my neighbors looked pretty nice. People were wearing khaki’s, polo shirts, dress pants… I felt like a homeless guy that snuck into a J-Crew photo shoot. I don’t know why they were dressed so nice. Maybe they have special fire alarm outfits. Maybe everyone in my building works at Abercrombie. Either way they looked great, and I was exposing a nipple.
Eventually we got the clear from the firemen and were allowed to go back inside. Once in the apartment, we tried to reconnect the smoke detector with no luck. After a few minutes we decided to go to bed and worry about it in the morning. Unfortunately once every minute the smoke detector would beep, and even though it was in the other room, it was loud and completely annoying. So we removed the battery from the smoke detector, placed it next to the bed, and layed back down. Then a minute later…
beep
My girlfriend, without moving, simply said, “how?”
I laughed, put the alarm under a huge pile of clothing, and went to sleep.
Hector Villanueva 
