Really, I am.

On the Restrooms in Ellis Park

As I strutted through Ellis Park one summers evening, a trickle of Iced Tea made its way into my bladder. I sized up the situation, and proclaimed to the lovely lady whom I had been entertaining all evening that I’d be using the next restroom we come across.

A few paces later I spotted a couple facilities conveniently located 15 feet from the path. As I approached the outhouse, I couldn’t help but to notice that the lavatory had no doors. “Hmmm,” I thought, “that’s strange.” I proceeded to pass through the gaping hole of an entrance, and immediately found myself wading through a murky tract of water which had a consistency not entirely unlike a vat of Sloppy Joe sauce. Needless to say, I was grossed out. I continued to seamlessly saunter through the sludge, and eventually made my way to the toilet.

Now, I have seen some pretty unkempt restrooms in my lifetime, but I have never felt more uncomfortable, or more concerned for my health in any bathroom I’ve ever been in. As I sat down to evacuate my bladder, a swarm of mosquitos [presumably carrying Malaria] decided to invade my stall. I did my best impression of Auguste Rodins “The Thinker,” and made sure to not attract any attention to myself.

My attempts to thwart an attack were futile. The mosquitos had their way with my body. Feet, arms, legs. Everything they could shove their West Nile stricken proboscis in, they did. Quickly and haphazardly, I shoved my junk back into my pants, washed my hands, glided through the Manwich mix, and was greeted by my lady friend under a nearby tree.

When I finished the movement I decided I wasn’t going to tell my date about the Mosquito free-for-all that had just taken place. I concluded that some secrets are best kept within the walls of the hellhole known as the restrooms in Ellis Park.

I have always been under the impression that stereograms have always been a practical joke against me. Like I am a part of some Truman Show, only this show is about my inability to see the hidden image.

I have always been under the impression that stereograms have always been a practical joke against me. Like I am a part of some Truman Show, only this show is about my inability to see the hidden image.

I Destroyed a Childs Life Today

It was the end of the day, and I was pretty happy with it. 15 more minutes and I would be free as a bird, off to the apartment to have a fulfilling nights rest. When all of the sudden, I see a family approach my cash register. I say “Good evening!”, and they smile and politely bid me a good evening of my own. I ask if there is anything I could get for them. They say they are just browsing; they have to get through security and onto their plane. As they start leaving my kiosk, I notice a 3-year old walking away with a $2.13 M&M Cookie, unbeknownst to the parents. A few moments later the mother figures out what is happening when she sees the kid start going to town on the enormous delight. She quickly starts toward me. I tell her it is fine before she is even 10 feet from me. She smiles widely and kindly offers me a $1 tip. I accept (because I am poor)… Skip ahead 5 minutes, I start to think about it. That child now thinks it is okay to steal. It wont be long until he starts making off with DVDs from Wal-Mart. DVDs lead to video games. Video games lead to computer hardware. Next thing you know, this kid is arrested for grand theft auto and sentenced to 10 years in a federal prison. And who is the one who set this chain of events off? That’s right. ME.

I’m Back!

I know what you were thinking. You probably were thinking that I went on hiatus after I gained my 7th follower. Yeah, I mean, what can I say. A lot of people can’t handle 7 followers. You thought I’d fold under the pressure, but alas, like Cthulu I always rise again to reclaim my spot at the top of tumblr. Who knows, maybe 5, 10 followers from now I’ll go on hiatus again. Anything can happen!… No, but seriously though, I stopped posting to tumblr, and my mom came and talked to me. She said “Why haven’t you updated your blog?” And I said it was because the economy was on the rise again, no on needs blogs anymore. She didn’t like what I said and we got in one little fight and my mom got scared and said you’re moving with your aunte and uncle in bel-air. I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said fresh and had a dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought naw forget it, yo home to bel-air. I pulled up to a house about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabby yo, home smell ya later. Looked at my kingdom I was finally there to set on my throne as the prince of bel-air.

Until next time folks, dont be reckless!


I went to an ATM today to check my balance. And as I always do, I checked out the balance receipts that people leave at the machine. I found one that had $72,438.

Who in the hell has $72,438 in their checking account?



An Open Letter to Mr. Obama

Dear Mr. Obama,

You are undeniably the greatest orator of our time. However, I find your lack of speeches bothersome. Please do more.



Good Deed #1

My new years resolution is to do good deeds whenever the opportunity for good deeds presents itself. I’ve set a goal of 100 good deeds this year. And, as of 01/02/2010 (National Palindrome Day) I have one good deed to my name. Here is the story.

A man walked into work today. He arrived on a bus from Chicago. He had very little money to his name. He asked me how far $3 would go. I said “A bottle of soda”. He said “Ohh shoot, thanks anyway”. This man was around 50, and was African American. He decided to sit down and watch T.V while he waited for his next bus departure. I knew I had to do something for him. So while no manager was around, I told him to pick out a sandwich that he wants, and a drink that he would like. His face lit up like the fourth of July. It made me feel warm inside. While this was taking place, a retired businessman was watching me from afar. He stopped me as I walked by and he told me that what I did was honorable, and he promptly handed me a 5 dollar bill. Karma at its best.

That’s my first good deed of 2010.

20 Years In The Making

Here we are, 20 years after my conception, and what a wild 20 years it has been. These 20 years have brought me happiness, sadness, joy, disgust, simplicity, complexity, wealth, poverty, confusion, clarity, calamity, normality, addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Who I am today is the product of 20 years of triumph, and tragedy. This blog entry documents the highs and lows of this 20 year roller coaster I call life.



1-5 - the Lost Years

6-10 - When I Grow Up…

11-15 - Arrested Development

16-20 - Fall From Grace

Jacob (Me)

Main Characters
Mom (Mom)
Dad (Dad)
Bryan (Brother)
Lindy (Sister)
Leah (Sister)

Tom Weise (Satan, Lucifer, Hitler, Anti-Christ)

Secondary Characters
Wrigley (Dog), Daisy (Dog), Pickle (Cat), Fido (Cat), Bubbles (Cat)

Honorable Mention
Alex LaBore (My Best Friend)
Justin Davis (My Other Best Friend)
Trish Reifenstahl (My Bestest Friend)
Luke Mornini (My Best Bud)
Lori Wiles (Youth Leader since… 2000?)
Ben Halsch (Newish Youth Leader)


The Lost Years

I know there are some people out there who maintain a vivid memory of their childhood. People who can remember events that took place while they were a toddler. I on the other hand, remember very little about my first five years. I was an infant when I fell off the counter and impaled myself on a steak knife. I was 4 years old when I slid down a wet hill and had three toes chopped off by a lawn mower. I was a toddler when I developed a lisp that changed my name from ‘Jacob’ to ‘Sacob’. My favorite basketball player was Michael Sordan. My sister also happened to be ‘Michael Sordan’. (I still can’t explain why I thought she was Michael Jordan). I remember my vast collection of Thomas the Tank Enginememorabilia, and always wanting a new train set for my birthday, and Christmas.. And Easter… And all other holidays. All other memories of my childhood are sitting in a box labeled “Photos” in our garage. I really, really, really, really wish I had more to put here. But then again, that’s why I dubbed these years: The Lost Years

MVP of “the Lost Years”: Thomas the Tank Engine

Best Memory: Two words. Toy. Cars.

Worst Memory: Seeing HUNDREDS of stitches on the end of my foot.


When I Grow Up…

Ahhhhh elementary school. So much imagination, so much inspiration, so little knowledge. I was 6 when I started attending Prairie View Elementary. I was also 6 when I was diagnosed with ADHD. If you could take the time to imagine a kid so fascinated with the world, that he dropped what he was doing at any given moment, to go figure out where a noise was coming from, that kid you’re thinking of was me. My imagination was spewing out of every orophus of my body. I played football in the backyard with imaginary players, imaginary teams, and my imaginary girlfriend who came to every game. :). I would constantly decline doing homeworkto go build a castle with my Legos. I was 6 years old when I decided to gas up my dads riding mower - with the water hose. I was 7 years old when I thought it would be cool to help dad with the concrete. I successfully cemented the sand box. (I don’t remember my reasoning for the last two acts, but I bet they were priceless). On two separate occasions I can remember knocking over wine racks in Wal-Mart and Econo Foods… This was around the time when teachers started asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up, and as cliche as it sounds, I wanted to be an Astronaut. I dreamed of owning my own spacecar, and travelling to different planets in the multiverse. I was a spitting image of Neil Armstrong. And I’ll be damned if I’m not him when I grow up…

MVP of “When I Grow Up”: Dad

Best Memory: Golfing with dad

Worst Memory: The Paddle!


Arrested Development

I was young, and I didn’t know what divorce meant. I couldn’t comprehend the term. I thought of it as a reason for multiple Christmases. Splitting time betweenWalford and Cedar Rapids was no easy task for an eleven year old. Which house gets my posters? Which house do I store my Spaghetti O’s? Which basement gets my arcade-style basketball hoop? Mommy had the money at the time, so naturally I stayed with her. I felt bad for daddy. I loved him very much, but my eleven year old self was drawn towards the green. Don’t get me wrong, I love mommy very much, but lets be real here, do I want goodwill clothes, or $200 Nike Boots? (I love you equal, mom and dad!!!)… What I haven’t talked about yet is my trouble in school. I thought learning was a blast, unfortunately, homework wasn’t. I rocked out on tests, and finished in the top 90% of kids in Iowa who took the ITBS tests. I was always on time for class, and I always asked the most intelligent questions. But homework… HOMEWORK destroyed me. My ADHD was getting the best of me, and my homework scores plummeted in inverse proportion to my fascination withthe world. I was in 8th grade when I started asking questions that kids my ageshouldn’t be asking. What is life? How are we living, breathing, conscious beings? If everything needs a creator, then who created God? YES, these are great questions, but they didn’t help me in the long run. My ADHD apprehended my ability to excel in school, therefore my Development was Arrested.

MVP of “Arrested Development”: Mom

Best Memory: Walford Baseball

Worst Memory: Prairie Baseball


Fall From Grace

Now, before I go on, I need to let you know that I will be leaving out some of the more “heavier” material in this section to protect the sanctity of our family… Middle School was a joke, I can’t believed I squeaked by with a 2.0 GPA. High School was no different. How do you think if felt hearing that some ‘at risk’ kid had a 2.0 GPA? How do you think it felt when you found out yours was 1.6? Is that a typo you ask? No, it’s not. I am saying for the first time, publicly, that my accumulative GPA in high school was 1.6. My IQ? 137. My Pass/Fail ratio was about 3:2. I failed 9 classes when I was a sophomore (Here’s the kicker, I failed 6 in the first semester). I accumulated 100+ demerits during my Junior and Senior years. I dropped out halfway through my Senior year. I had 19 credits going into the second semester. I had 8 classes worth a total of 4 credits that semester. I needed 24 credits to graduate. You do the math… MEANWHILE, somewhere in the Psychiatric Care Center at St. Lukes, a certain someone close to me was deemed ‘suicidal’ after a nervous breakdown. This certain someone was in debt. $80,000 to ballpark it. They were in danger of losing their house. A certain siblinghood joined together and moved in to this persons home and cleaned house. We worked 24/7, cleaning, throwing things away, trips to goodwill, many trips to the can shed (This person is one year sober as of this October :) ). We were then rewarded with a 30 day notice to evict the premises, signed, Tom Wiese. We had worked so damn hard, only to be rewarded with a swift kick in the ass. We packed our things, said our last goodbyes, put some holes in the walls to spite Tom Wiese, and seeked shelter. Thankfully we found an apartment in Cedar Rapids, that is, after being homeless for one night. Looking back at all we lost, we truly did fall from grace.

MVP of “Fall From Grace”: All My Friends

Best Memory: Summer of ‘09

Worst Memory: Getting hit by a tour bus


All is good these days. We are making a living in this 2 bedroom apartment. I find brief pauses in my life to update my blog in hopes that people actually read it. lol. It’s time for me to go to bed. And may my “40 Years In The Making” blog be much, much more tumultuous.

Jacob Bruce Moore

My Weekend Recap

Friday started out just like any ordinary Friday. I woke up, yawned, checked facebook, let out the most profound sigh the world has ever known, and prepared for the day ahead. But just as I was about to choose between Fruity Pebbles or Lucky Charms, my sister called, and she threw my day a curveball. I was supposed to work at 5:00pm, but I had forgotten all about the plans we had made to visit dad a couple weeks prior. So I shuffled some things around, got a mouthful from a disgruntled manager, and freed up my Friday night.
My dad lives in a dorm in Dubuque, so naturally it was going to be a long trip. I decided to make a Dubuque Trip Playlist. I put in songs that would make the trip seem quicker. The playlist I threw together was phenomenal. It included Sufjan Stevens, Bright Eyes, Death Cab, Mt. Eden, Silverchair. I was ready… No playlist ever created could make a Friday Night on Collins Road seem ‘quick’. 4O minutes of stop and go traffic later, and my CD is already on track 9. What a waste… The rest of the ride was peaceful and smooth. We had a hell of a time trying to find our dads place. Mapquest led us in circles, and even made up a fake street name (Gandolfo St.). We never found ‘Gandolfo St.’ but we did find our dads dorm. We walked in, played a few card games, had a few laughs, and prepared for the Hurricane that is our STEP family to arrive. (I emphasize STEP in this blog because earlier in the night, I referred to my STEP mother Amy, as my STEP mother. She quickly corrected me saying, “STEP is not in our vocabulary, we don’t use words like that”). The feeling of what was about to happen was palpable. We all played cards quietly, pretending like we didn’t know our wretched STEP family was about to arrive. But in the back of all of our minds, we knew what was about to come through the door…
Let me take this time to introduce Emmalie, Jason, and their two lovely children: Natalie (5), and Chloe (2). Emmalie is Amys daughter. Emmalie works at Walgreens in the drug department. Emmalie is not what you would call, “skinny”. Emmalie knows no fun. Jason is a delivery boy for Pizza Hut. Jason got mugged one time while delivering pizza. Jason is what some would say, “corpulent”. Jason is not very bright, at all. Jason is the real life version of Clark Griswold, in the body of a severely balding Chris Farley. Natalie is 5. Natalie is loud. Natalie doesn’t understand reason, or negotiation. Natalie is loud. Chloe is louder. Chloe needs everything her way. Chloe would make a very convincing dog.
The STEP family arrived, and the expressions on all of our faces were that of a group of people  saying goodbye to their friend who is leaving forever, and ever. The door opened, and Chloe, right on queue, comes running in with Natalie not too far behind, both screaming bloody murder. Lindy and I give our best “Happy to see you again” impression, and they take the bait.
Skipping ahead to dinner, we find our family playing a rousing game of Apples to Apples. I skip ahead to this part because this is where the quote of the night comes in. Enjoy.
Jason: Alright, the word is… Uhhm… Errrrm… Honey, what’s this say?
Emmalie: Eccentric.. Sound it out sweetie.
Eccentric: Adj. Latin. Jason’s reading level was eccentric for his age…
We move ahead to bed time. It is 12:08 and I cannot find the wherewithal to fall asleep on this narrow couch. I chose it because it was comfy. I later chose the ground for its far superior surface area…


We find our hero on the ground, waking up to the smell of freshly cooked bacon. A smell I know all too well back in CR. I had slept a measly two hours, but somehow found enough energy in one can of Red Bull to last me the rest of the day. Breakfast concludes, and Lindy and I are off. Not before we give Amy our Oscar Nominated goodbye hugs. (Seriously folks, the most awkward hug of my life). Driving home was twice as quick as driving to Dubuque. I arrive home at 9:20, and quickly need to find a ride to work at 11:30. I phone Justin, and wake him up in the process. I ask him for a ride. He abides. The dude abides. (‘Big Lebowski’ reference for those of you logging on to google right now). On our way to work, Justin tells me tales of all the unmentionable things that go down at Oral Roberts. The likes of which include, but are not limited to: Tennis rackets to the face, wiffle ball bats to the face, many fists to the face, and various other things to the face as well. After questioning the integrity of one of the country’s most prestigious Christian schools, I arrive at work. Work went smoothly, until the final five minutes. An Asian family wandered their asses into our fine establishment, and during this time, they decided to not speak English. So they marched up to the register, and started pointing fingers at random spots on the menu listed on the wall. After many nods, shakes, and indecipherable hand gestures, I took their order. I forgot what exactly they ordered, but I do know it included more maple syrup than is safe or reasonable.
Later that night I found myself at my buddy Alex’s house. We played some video games with Justin, had a few brewskis, and headed out to go ‘Extreme’ sledding. We stopped at Taco Bell to grab a quick bite first. It was delicious as usual. Our first sledding hill was Roosevelt, the preferred sledding hill in Cedar Rapids. (I decided to do a blog post about my weekend when the following events occurred.).
I get to the top of Roosevelt, and looked for any route down the hill that might be considered “dangerous”. I found one that included a four foot jump. I started descending down the hill towards the jump, and then I realized that there was a man down there. I didn’t think anything of it, that is, until I went off the jump and the man threw his sled at me saying, “Fucking get that close to me again motherfucker and I’ll rip your fucking face off”. I laughed at this. I couldn’t think of what to say to him because my adrenaline rush from the jump was still pumping. I kept laughing. He then used what my kindergarten teacher would on describe as an “outside voice” to say “HAHAHA Yeah keep laughing mother fucker”. And what did I do? I kept on laughing. “I’ll fucking steal your boyfriends car and do a peel out on your face, and then fucking peel out on his face too, and steal it when I’m done with you.” At this point I had already made judgments and calculations. I could take him if it came down to a fight, and I had an MMA fighter in training (Justin) about 50 yards from me if I needed back up. But to our misfortune, his girlfriend dragged him away from the situation, and took him home. At this point, any ounce of tiredness that was in me had suddenly vanished. I was ready to take on anyone. But we decided to call it a night after that. Bummer, right?


I woke up on a considerably more comfortable surface this time, a couch with width. Justin took me home at 8am. I got a legit 4 hours of sleep this time. I had to work at 11:30. Now, I forgot what happened on Sunday, but I remember that I wanted to blog about it. So as for now, just know that something funny, cool, interesting, or awesome happened, and I witnessed it.

Thus concludes my weekend.

Until next time folks, don’t be reckless while sledding.


Tiger Woods Limerick

His last name is Woods, he knows no misdeed
He played lots of golf, and married a Swede
He plowed through a hydrant
At speeds some call violent
And now the whole world knows he cheats