WWCND? (What Would Chuck Norris Do?)

A near bust, leads me to reconsider the actual benefits of protein powder and nunchucks…

Now that I’m back stateside it seems like my life has slipped back into that oh too familiar monotony. This of course makes it difficult to blog because I feel that I lack the inspiration that was provided to me so freely in Nicaragua, where everything was new and interesting. However, just the other day a friend of mine supplied me with the ultimate story, which made me reconsider my previous statement about monotony. This story is true, sadly, and none of the facts have been changed or altered except for the name of my friend, which has been changed to protect them from further mockery.

It began yesterday night, when my friend “Glen” decided to take a drive downtown. Glen was doing a good deed and dropping off a friend at their house after the friend had consumed a few too many. Somewhere along the way a police vehicle spotted Glen’s car, and noticed that one of the front lights was out. Therefore, the cop proceeded to pull them over for some quick questioning. The officer asked the standard “show me your license and vehicle registration” and then asked if there were any weapons in the vehicle. At this point, Glen was a little shaken from being pulled over and also surprised by the second question that the officer asked. “Who do they think I am, why would I have weapons?” thought Glen and quickly responded “no of course not.”

Well, something must have looked suspicious, and the officer kindly requested that Glen pop open the trunk, which is where the trouble all began.

The first thing the officer noticed and pulled out of the trunk were a pair of nunchucks. “No weapons you said, well then what are these?” the officer stated accusingly, clearly displaying the nunchucks in front of Glen. Well, last Halloween Glen went as a Ninja. So the nunchucks were left over from the costume and conveniently forgotten in the trunk of the car. Glen stated, “Sir they are nunchucks.” The officer responded, “Well, yes I can see these are nunchucks, but what are they doing in your car.” What Glen should have told the officer was:

A)“I’m a black belt in Karate, and can chop through 5 bricks at a time”
B)“I was trying to emulate my hero Chuck Norris (Insert bad Chuck Norris joke here)”
C)“Look officer, I can’t fit them anywhere else”
D)“Watch out behind you…ninjas!!”

Instead, Glen provided the officer with the boring truth, and told him that the nunchucks were left over from Halloween.

Now, a few weeks ago, Glen suggested that we buy some protein powder together from GNC. Well, time went by and GNC finally had a big sale so we both purchased a 5 lb tub of whey protein powder. Of course, Glen decided to throw his GNC powder in his trunk to the left of the nunchucks.

Now back to that trunk. The cop looked inside the trunk again and now noticed (and who wouldn’t) the 5 lb tub. However, the police officer had no idea that it was from GNC because Glen had ripped off the protein powder’s label by accident. So the officer opened up the tub to find 5 lbs of mystery white powder (that also happened to smell like cookies and cream). “Is this cocaine?” “Are you dealing cocaine” the officer sternly asked. “No, no, no it’s my whey powder.” “What?” “It’s from GNC it has protein, I am trying to get abs.” Well, the officer looks at my friend, looks and the powder, and then starts to drill my friend some more (obviously Glen didn’t appear to be buff enough to be consuming protein powder on a regular basis).

Let the questioning begin:
Officer: Well how many calories per serving does it contain?
Glen: I’m not sure maybe around 100
Officer: How do you not know, and why isn’t there a label on this?
Glen: It came off by accident I have the label at home, it’s protein powder
Officer: Well what brand is it?
Glen: It’s GNC brand
Officer: Well what brand is that?
Glen: I told you it’s GNC brand
Officer: Well tell me what brand!
Glen: I told you it’s the generic brand
Officer: Well it has to have a name…

The questioning continued along those lines for another several minutes until the officer spotted yet another item in the trunk. What could that item be? Another set of nunchucks, not likely. Perhaps, a Chuck Norris doll? Nope, that was at home in a glass display case labeled, “My Hero.” Or maybe some more muscle building stuff, no way. It was just a lil’ole apple pie!

The officer looked in the trunk again and proceeded to pull out an old McDonalds bag with an apple pie left inside of it. “Do you eat these,” he questioned Glen. “Because, you know, this is very counterproductive to muscle building.” Glen responded, “Well, yeah, but they’re 2 for a $1 and I like apple pie.” By this point Glen was clearly shaken, and afraid of being thrown in jail for life due to a 5 lb cookie and cream bust. Finally, the officer believed my friend, and the story ends rather un-climatically. He simply lets them off with this warning, “You should really stop eating those pies, if you want to stay healthy; those things are really bad for you.” As Glen shakily replied, “Ok I will.”

“Gotta make the doughnuts” or does the saying go “gotta eat the doughnuts”??

The phrase “gotta make the doughnuts,” was uttered to me some time ago, but it always seemed to stick in my head because its meaning always eluded me. Did it mean that I had a calling as a pastry chef? Should I consider getting a job at Krispy Kream? Or maybe I just need to consume more doughnuts to help the suffering doughnut industry. Well I finally figured out its true meaning, simply put it means gotta make some $$$ (get it? a doughnut is in the shape of a “0” and the more “0’s” you have added onto your paycheck the more money you have in your hand). Unfortunately, the meaning of this phrase dawned on me shortly after I had consumed an entire box of doughnuts. That leads me to my point, since I am back in the U.S.A. I have learned very quickly that I need to jump on the doughnut bandwagon because ¢25 gets you nowhere nowadays, and I reiterate nowhere. I remember when a stamp and a phone call used to cost ¢25. Apparently that time has come and gone. In Nicaragua, ¢25 would buy me any one of the following items: crackers, 5 waters, 5 tortillas, tons of beans, 3 eggs, various snack things etc. (the list goes on and on). In the U.S., I have yet to find anything that actually costs ¢25! So this clearly leads to one conclusion, it’s time to get another job (this time one that actually has a salary, since Peace Corps did not).

The Church "El Calvario" that
is located in Leon Nicaragua

Before returning to the U.S.A., Peace Corps informs you that you might have a reverse culture shock. I must say I didn’t really experience too much of a shock, I mean, there are still bad drivers on the road, people use their cell phones inappropriately (while driving, while shopping, while in the gym), people can still be rude or pretty nice depending on the circumstance, timeliness is next to godliness, and In general people are in a rush to go (somewhere or perhaps nowhere). North Americans (and I include myself in this analysis), tend to be a little more suspicious of people in general. In Nicaragua I could approach anyone at anytime and start up a two hour long conversation. In the States people A) Think of you as a weirdo if you make eye contact with them let alone talk to them B) Don’t have time to chat C) Think you will eventually try to sell them something (be it a religion, magazines etc.) or D) Just don’t care.

A view inside of the church

Of course there are a few things I am happy to have back one being STREET NAMES and ADDRESSES!!! Although, after 3 years I did finally get used to Nicaraguan directions (for example, next to the old church 3 blocks down 2 blocks north). I recently was given directions to my friend’s new house in the States and she failed to mention any landmarks near or around her house. While driving I found myself a bit lost, yeah there are street names but did she know that she could have simply told me “from the Restaurant I hop 2 blocks west and 3 blocks down.” Of course in the U.S.A. where there are chain restaurants on every other block this type of direction giving might lead to more confusion than it’s worth. I suppose another thing I do appreciate about the States is that if you stop and ask for directions a person will either help you or tell you flat out that they don’t know. In Nicaragua, you will never hear the words “No sé, no lo conozco” uttered from anyone’s lips. Quite the opposite, no matter where you go you will always be happily directed somewhere (even if that somewhere isn’t where you actually wanted to go). People will have a big smile on their faces and tell you very specific directions even though those directions are not correct (note to readers, it was never done in malice they just wanted to be helpful). That is why in Nicaragua I would ask numerous people to point me in the right direction. In the States this just isn’t needed thanks to mapquest and/or talking navigational boxes that will guide you on your way. However, I know I will miss actually communicating face to face with a fellow human being even if their directions are not so accurate.

Jordan and I at a quinceañera party