UNHOLY ADVENTURES IN THE HOLY LAND: Coming at ya, Jerusalem

If I had a dollar for every time someone has told me "Don't get blown up" I would have been able to fund my program fees in their entirety. Other bits of wisdom have included but are not limited to:

"Don't fall in love with a an Israeli."

"Arab is pronounced ar-uh b, not a-ra b."

"Don't offend anyone and launch Israeli warfare against America."

"Don't draw attention to the fact that you are an American tourist."

(I'm afraid I don't have much say in the matter. My fanny pack and Teva's will do all the talking.)

Well damn it. I was planning on doing all those things. But since I have learned a great deal from Alanis Morissette and because I hate irony, these tidbits of wisdom won't be the good advice that I just didn't take. I have taken all comments and suggestions into consideration and will act accordingly.

The more I learn about Jerusalem the more I am like holy schnikes, what am I getting myself into. I found out today that there is no bacon over there. And that meat isn't mixed with cheese. Meaning no cheeseburgers. I am going to die. That's right Michelle Obama. I am going to die from NOT eating cheeseburgers. Eat it. So why don't you leave the Happy Meal alone? Ya satanist. That's mainly the only bad thing I remember because that bad news took a while to swallow. After I dry swallowed that horse pill of disparity I started daydreaming about the Mini Cooper that I was going to buy when the Jerusalem center got closed and I was refunded my money. Which I was pretty much banking on. This daydream borrowed heavily from the Italian Job. And Mark Wahlberg and I were in love. And then I started feeling a little bitter towards BYU Jerusalem for robbing me of that love, and my Mini Cooper. But mainly Mark Wahlberg.

Despite the fact that I'm being robbed of many vital life assets, I am confident that the Jerusalem centers offerings will make up for any depvrivation. (Maybe. I REALLLLYYYY want a yellow Mini Cooper. And Mark Wahlberg.) The Jerusalem center is like Mr. Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich, and giving to the poor. Except it's stealing from me and giving to me. How can I be the rich and the poor, you ask? Look at my bank account pre-Jerusalem, and then take a little looksie at the current bank statements, post Jerusalem program fees. That's how. I know this experience is going to change my life and most likely make me more awesome than I already am. You probably didn't think that was possible. Well you'll be surprised what 10,588 big ones will do for you. After the images of the Jerusalem center robbing me of those blessed things played in my head I began picturing what it is going to offer me. I saw myself as a biblical scholar. And an archaeologist working on ancient ruins and accidentally coming across dinosaur fossils. Oh wait, not just dinosaur fossils, a new species of dinosaurs. What? And also like a bunch of Moses's old stuff. I pictured how cultured I am going to become. I have been called many things in my life- a scholar, an inspiration, an angel***. However, the one thing I have never been accused of is being cultured. Which is grossly inaccurate. I can hardly think of any experiences more cultural than NASCAR races or visits to the Mooresville Walmart. I am going to add to this cultural overload and learn about the history of countries besides America. One day people are going to ask me "What is your opinion on the current political state in Israel?" and instead of just talking about how worthless Obama is, I will respond intelligently while still bashing Obama and his entourage at any given opportunity. My testimony will be strengthened and I will become so righteous that I will most likely be asked to speak in General Conference. Uchtdorf will give me pointers on my talk and I'll get the inside scoop on the unnatural glow and year round tan of his skin. WOWZERS. The Jerusalem center is going to be way too good to me.

As I depart on this journey there are a few last words I would like to leave yall with:

"So I am going out into the wilderness. Probably to die. I hope to see you again little Chancho. Maybe in the next life."

"Woah. Big Gulps, huh? Alright! Well, see ya later."