Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

TWO PEAS IN A POD

Remember that episode of THE SIMPSON'S where Lisa feels so bad that Ralph didn't get a Valentine at school? She took one out of her own box, erased the "To" and "From" and gave it to Ralph. He instantly fell in love with her and she ended up breaking his heart on national TV.

It was a quality episode in one of the show's best seasons (4th) and the "I Choo-Choo-Choose You" card is still a popular one to this day.

But anyway, I felt a little bit like Ralph Wiggum when I got to work on Friday and the HR department passed out Valentine's for everyone. He and I are like two peas in a pod.

And if there's ever a Valentine's Day card that so perfectly sums up my social life, this is it.


Friday, February 14, 2014

WOLVES & MARTYRS: THE ORIGIN OF VALENTINE'S DAY


*Ed. Note -- I post this every Valentine's Day because I had fun writing it and think it's fun for people to read.*

I miss the days when I had to come up with an awesome Valentine's Day box for school. I was pretty good at it and it was fun. Now it's just a day where I read girls complaining about it on the Internet.

But where did it come from? How did it start?

Oh, please, allow me.

In the spirit of the comic books that I've always been fond of, I kind of refer to this as a "Valentine's Day: Year One" story.

In 3rd or 4th century BC, The Parentalia and Feralia Festivals of Purification were celebrated from February 13-18 to coincide with the Fertility Festival. The latter was a ritual not unlike the "Casual Encounters" section of CraigsList. All of the willing females would enter their names into a box and one by one, eligible men would step up for their turn. With a name in hand, the two would go off and what happened next was reffered to as a "rite of passage." You can use your imagination for what that entails.

Before that began however, there was the LUPERCALIA (from the Latin lupus, meaning "wolf"). During this day, priests—known as Luperci—from two colleges (Quintillii and Fabii) would meet at the Cave of Lupercal in the Palatine Hill, where a she-wolf was said to have nursed Romulus and Remus, the twin founders of Rome. There, Vestal Virgins would offer holy salt cakes and the priests would sacrifice a dog and a goat, smearing the animal blood onto the foreheads of youths of noble birth. Clad only in a goatskin thong, those same youths would later lead a band of revelers known as the luperci in the performance of such antics as whipping fields of crops and bystanders with a goatskin strip (known as the februa). Women gently lashed in such a fashion were thought to become fertile—even those known to be barren. The act of such lashings or whippings was known as februatio. Both this word and the word februa come from the Latin meaning "to purify." The naming of the month, February, is believed to have originated from these meanings.

Basically, February means "to purify by beating with a goatskin strip."

No flowers, chocolate or candy hearts yet.

When Christianity was eventually formed, it was attempted to replace the rituals with something a little bit more uplifting. Pope Gelasius outlawed the Lupercian Festival, but kept the name drawing part—just slightly tweaked. Instead of available women, the names of Saints were written on the papers and it was believed that the recipient (boys and girls participated in the drawing) would emulate the life of whichever Saint was chosen. This new system, while much more noble, was a lot less fun. Eventually, it was abandoned and the old "rite of passage" returned.

Those are the ones you don't hear too much about. This one however, is the most widely known part of the origin.

In Rome, 270 AD, Claudius II passed an edict that abolished marriage. He felt that married men made poor soldiers because they were loath to leave their loves ones for battle. The emperor craved a strong army far more than he cared about popularity and banned the act of marriage all together.

Valentine, a bishop of Interamna, disagreed with the Emperor and invited young lovers to come to him in secret to be joined in the sacrament of matrimony. Claudius soon learned of this "friend of lovers" and had the bishop brought to the palace. The Emperor, impressed with the young priest's dignity and conviction, attempted to convert him to the Roman gods to save him from otherwise certain execution. Valentine refused to renounce Christianity and imprudently attempted to convert the Emperor. It didn't work and he was sentenced to death. While Valentine was in prison awaiting execution, he fell in love with the blind daughter of the jailer, Asterius. Through his unswerving faith, he miraculously restored her sight—which bothers me because I still have to basically wait out a god damn cold. He signed a farewell message to her "From Your Valentine."

Soon after he left the note, actually on February 14th (or so history claims), Valentine was clubbed, stoned and then beheaded.

To recap, in case you got bored: Valentine's Day is essentially the celebration of torture, blood, sacrifice, random sex, wolves and martyrs.

I want a card with that on it.

(*Note - I wrote this after reading a few different histories relating to Valentine's Day on the Internet and put it together after reading something Warren Ellis posted way back in the day, so this is all his fault. Also, it's entirely possible that none of this is true or historically accurate at all. But it's far more entertaining. Originally I started throwing it out on LiveJournal, then MySpace and now I re-post it on trevorhale.com every year on Feb. 14.)

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

SOCHI PROBLEMS

The 2014 Winter Olympics start tomorrow in Sochi, Russia. Things aren't going so well over there.

Construction on most of the arenas and stadiums is finished and the Olympic Park looks glorious apparently, but the Russians seem to have forgotten one minor detail: there are A LOT of people coming, too.

From everything I've read, all the facilities that will be featured on TV look fantastic - because they'll be featured prominently on TV. Everything else is a different story. I've been reading up on a bunch of things this morning and it sounds like everything from where the athletes are staying to the press hotels to the visitors hotels are a mess.

These are a few of my favorites.

From Stacy St. Clair of the Chicago Tribune


Then later...


From Dan Wetzel of Yahoo!


From pro snowboarder Sebastien Toutant


From Euro News:


From Ilya Yashin, who finds the dual toilets just as ridiculous as everyone else:


From Stephen Whyno on the men's Canadian Hockey team rooms:


From Jo-Ann Barnas of the Detroit Free Press
I'm sure there will be more to come. After all, the games haven't even started yet.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

THE F*CKING RESERVES


Remember all those times I've tried my hand at podcasting without much success?

Okay, the GCAcast went a whole 12 episodes, but that's as close to any type of longevity I've had - and even those 12 episodes took well over a year.

Well, I'm back at it.

I'm sitting in on a football/soccer podcast centered around Manchester United.  It's called The Fucking Reserves, or as far as iTunes is concerned, The Reserves Football Podcast. We had to tone down the title (which I'm pretty sure they took from this clip) so they'd accept us and let us be a part of their podcast listings.

I don't pay much attention to soccer. Even last year when I had Real Salt Lake season tickets, I didn't pay much attention beyond what nights the games were so I could plan accordingly. Why I was asked to be part of this podcast still isn't quite clear. But I'm doing it. I don't have a lot of other things going on at the moment. And I like teasing these dudes when they get all riled up and start referring to a team in another country as "we."

Actually, that's probably why they asked me. I provide a smidgen of comic relief and an outsiders look into the English Premiere League. Sometimes it gets a little bit esoteric, so I'm there to step in and ask for an explanation every now and then. Now with a few episodes under our belt, we've kind of figured it out. I have my own little segment at the end called "The Afterglow" which is basically me recapping what I learned as a non-soccer fan over the course of an hour.

If you're at all interested in soccer, Manchester United, Real Salt Lake (we probably won't have much RSL to talk about after tonight, but...) or if you just like hearing my voice occasionally but never get to (You can always call, you know. You never call anymore.) check it out.

It's pretty much all over the place:
iTunes
Podbean
Tumblr
and Twitter. 

We're having fun, even though sometimes I feel a lot like Scott in the clip below.


Tuesday, November 5, 2013

SIT DOWN, STAND UP

 I've gotten away from reviews of stuff I saw lately - and I'm not sure anyone minds - but I wanted to step back in and brag a little about a couple of things I got to see over the past month.

I saw Bill Cosby and Dave Chappelle. Not together, of course. But only a few weeks apart.

Anyone that knows me, knows I've always loved stand-up comedy and comedy in general. When I was a little kid, my parents would take my brother and I to their friends house every Friday night, and we'd hang out with their kids. Usually that would always lead to the kids putting on a show for the adults. My segment was always a stand-up comedy routine and it was always put together from bits I'd stolen from other comics. There was a stand-up show on late Friday or Saturday nights when I was somewhere between 8-12. I'd usually stay up and watch it, sitting right in front of the TV in the basement so I could keep the volume low. I'd always have a tape in and the VCR ready in case someone came on that I recognized. There are probably a few Louie Anderson specials still in the basement of my parent's house.

I love seeing comedians live and seeing both of those guys was incredible.

There's a chance that Chappelle wasn't as good as he once was, but that's debatable. From 2003 to 2006, the man was at the top of his game. That's when CHAPPELLE'S SHOW was on the air and he was at the height of his power. He got sick of fame and walked away from everything and he's been doing sporadic shows ever since.

My friend Brandon compared it to seeing Richard Pryor in his prime, and that may be so, but I'm not sure. We have the benefit of hindsight with these things and that's always a benefit. I'm curious if anyone that was in the theater for the Richard Pryor set that became LIVE AT THE SUNSET STRIP or seated in the audience when Eddie Murphy was going to tape RAW knew what they were going to be a part of. I don't feel like they did.

If you had told me in 2005 that sitting in the audience for a Dane Cook set would be legendary, I probably would have believed you. In 2013, looking back, I don't think anything Dane Cook has ever done could be considered legendary. Not even close. I didn't know that going in though and the first time I heard RETALIATION, I thought it was pretty great. I'm kind of embarrassed that I enjoyed it now.

Back to Chappelle.

Expectations were high and he met every single one of them. It was amazing to see his laid back, slacker style of comedy in person. I'm always in awe when someone can command attention and control an enormous crowd with something as simple as a look. Bill Cosby was able to do the same thing - and he did it sitting in a chair the entire time!

Chappelle riffed a bit from time to time, but he had a set, and bits he'd been working out and you could tell he was working to get back to the level he was once at. He'd still blow just about every other comedian working out of the water, but he was still working.

Cosby's set was more story-driven. He'd told these stories before, but he had the rhythm and beats clearly mapped out in his head and executed them perfectly.

They're both masterful performers and I'm incredibly lucky that I got to see both so close together.

Seeing Cosby was fantastic, but seeing Chappelle was nothing short of inspiring.

Monday, September 23, 2013

HOW I SPENT MY 33RD BIRTHDAY TAGGING ALONG TO A HIGH SCHOOL DANCE ACTIVITY


We’re only a single sentence into this thing and I’m already lying to you. Technically, anyway.

All of this happened on Saturday night and my birthday was actually Sunday. I’ve lived in Utah long enough to know that if a holiday falls on a Sunday, you’re legally obligated to celebrate it the day before. Or something like that. Plus, if girls can celebrate their birthday for an entire week (or more), I can pretend that Saturday was my birthday. Besides, I had to wait tables all day Sunday and BREAKING BAD was on at night. I was kind of tied up that day.

Anyway.

It’s Halloween season, which means it’s also Haunted House season. City Weekly does a piece on as many as possible each year for one of the A&E features. I always try to get it, and for the last three years, I’ve been able to. Basically, I just go through as many as will let me in and then write a piece on what they’re like. It’s fun to write and even more fun to see them. And I don’t have to bring a can of food or wait in line. Usually.

On Friday, I went to two of the three I was supposed to hit. I had company for those and they were both a lot of fun. Unfortunately, my date had to work the next night, so she wouldn’t be able to accompany me to any more. I knew this beforehand, so on Friday morning I started calling around and making inquiries to find a replacement for Saturday. A whole bunch of people were already out of town – which I knew – but there were even more gone than I thought. It was brutal.

“I’ll be gone. Sorry.”

“I have to go up to Ogden for family stuff.”

My options were running low, but then I remembered Dan and Kristin. They’d just moved back from NYC and both love Halloween. They also live in Park City, so I never see them, which makes it easy for me to forget they like fun. They had to be into this, right?

“We have no plans and LOVE haunted houses.”

Perfect. I usually hate tagging along with a married couple (or couples in general), but Dan and Kristin are different. I’ve known them both for so long that it doesn’t feel like tagging along. They were the perfect choice.

At four o’clock on Saturday, my phone goes off. It’s a text from Kristin.

“Hey, Dan can’t make it but I’m going to take a nap and then I’ll call you.”

That should have been all the info I needed and a sure-fire sign to start making phone calls. Any time a girl says she’s going to take a nap before she meets up with you – married or not, and especially not – she has absolutely no intention of hanging out. She’s just laying the groundwork for ditching you. Either she wakes up too late and doesn’t feel like getting ready, or most likely, she’s off doing something else entirely, but has an alibi already set.

This may or may not have happened to me a few times. Maybe. I’ve already put too much thought into this, haven’t I?

I held out hope that she’d wake up in time and want to actually drive down from Park City, but in the back of my mind I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Still, I didn’t make any contingency plans. I could have. There were plenty of people I could have called, but I just didn’t make the calls when I should have. I waited around, watched a bit of football, went grocery shopping and sent Kristin a text at a little after 9.

“I just woke up. I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

Not saying that Kristin ditched me on purpose, because I don’t think she would, but still. I should have made arrangements. This is mostly on me.

The worst part was that I still had to go. The deadline for the write-up was the following Thursday and none of the Haunted Houses are open during the week yet. Saturday was my last chance. I had to go and it looked more and more like I was going alone. I made one last effort by stopping at a coffee shop hoping to run into someone with even less to do than me on a Saturday night, but nothing came of it. I grabbed a coffee and headed West.

A true journalist at work. The Hunter S. Thompson of Salt Lake City haunted houses. Surely they’re just as dangerous as tagging along with the Hell’s Angels or taking a bunch of drugs in Las Vegas. In the name of the story, I was on my way.

Whatever I needed to tell myself.

Take a minute to think about what happens in mid-to-late September. Any ideas? Homecoming. There are A LOT of high schools in Salt Lake and the surrounding cities and Saturday night was homecoming for a whole bunch of different ones. When I showed up to the haunted house, the line was full of teenagers dressed up in shirts, ties, dresses and corsages. It was a good 1 : 1 ratio of regular people and kids visiting a haunted house for their dance activity.

I found the production manager, told her who I was and who I was writing for and told her that I was forced to roll solo. She felt kind of bad and chatted with me for a minute before she had to go off to do actual work. Before that, she gave me a wristband and sent me to the front of the VIP line. There was not a single other person in that line. The regular line was full and stretched out the door.

The lines converged and I was moved to the inside waiting area – stuck between two different groups of high school kids. The group ahead of me was ushered into the haunt itself and I was left at the front of the line. I turned around to the group of 16-year-olds with scene hair and raccoon makeup and just put it out there.

“So, how many do you guys have with you?”

“Just the four of us.”

“Cool. You guys mind if I tag along with you?”

“Uh, sure.”

I didn’t clarify a single thing. I just asked if I could tag along, they said yes and just like that, we were off. My new friends and I ventured into the throes.

I’d spent so much time trying to avoid going to this thing with a couple that I knew that I shot myself in the foot. I ended up spending an hour and a half on Saturday night with two high school couples leading them through the darkness of a haunted house in Taylorsville.

I wouldn’t say that we were friends by the end, but we were all cracking jokes and hanging out before we went our separate ways – me back home to watch the end of the BYU/Utah football game and them to wherever high school couples go after a dance. Maybe Village Inn or Denny’s. I don’t know.

The drive home is when I realized that I gave them absolutely no context of why I was there. I didn’t tell any of them my name and I didn’t ask for any of theirs. I didn’t tell them that I was writing a piece for City Weekly or that my friends had bailed at the last second. They knew nothing about any of that.

All they know is that some dude showed up alone to a haunted house at 10 PM on a Saturday night and tagged along with their group, leading the way as they did the West Valley Walk behind. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just a guy that loves haunted houses so much that he goes to them alone, latching on to dance activity groups to make new friends for a little bit while watching drama students jump out from behind the wall scaring everyone.

My only regret is that I didn’t have someone get a group picture of us.

Are there any homecoming dances next week?

Monday, November 19, 2012

POOR PLANNING

You'd think they might be a little more careful with the placement of these two posters.

Poor Abe just can't catch a break.


Wednesday, August 15, 2012

REAL LIFE CONVERSATIONS ABOUT JERRY SLOAN

I had the LONG LIVE SLOAN shirts for sale this past Saturday at my Craft Lake City table. Here are a few of the better conversations I had with passers-by.

"Long Live Sloan? Who's Sloan?"
"Jerry Sloan. The old Jazz coach that quit."
"Oh. Are you related to him or something?"
"Nope. Just thought he was a great coach and wanted to do something to honor that."
"Huh."

Walks away giving me a sarcastic thumbs up.

---

"Is that Jerry Sloan?"
"It sure is."
"He was a tough guy."
"I believe that."
"Did you ever watch him play?"
"I've seen videos and highlights and things like that."
"No, no. I mean in person. Did you ever see him play in person?"
"Uh, I didn't. Didn't he retire from playing in like the early 70s?"
(I checked. It was 1976 when he retired as a player.)
"Yeah."
"No. I wasn't born yet."
"Oh. Well. You missed out. Good luck with the shirt though."

---

Older Woman spots the shirt: "Oh my gosh! I love that shirt. I have to take a picture of it!"
She starts digging in her purse for a camera.
Her daughter: "Long Live Sloan? What does that mean?"
Me: "Jerry Sloan. He was the coach of the Jazz until a couple years ago.
Older Woman, just about to take a picture, stops: "Oh. That's not who I thought it was, then."
She puts the camera back and the two of them walk away.

---


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

WE SOLD OUR SOUL FOR ROCK N ROLL


So, Collapse.

We started practicing again last weekend. We didn't want to try and get a practice space since we didn't know if we were going to keep playing beyond this show, so we had to look for an alternative. We found one.

Clint's boss is letting us practice in their shop. They build custom covers for boats and have room for us to set up and even extra space so we can leave our shit there. That's the best part, because I didn't want to have to pack up my cabinet every time we practiced.

The only problem is that we don't have a lot of equipment. Well, I do. No one else does.

Clint is missing half his drum hardware and his throne. He's using a chair from an old boat they had lying around. We have no P.A. so Richard is yelling through a road cone—which works surprisingly well. Adam doesn't have a bass amp at all, so he stands around and plays along with his bass not plugged in to anything. Nathan sold his head, so he's using a 12" practice amp turned up as loud as it will go. I still have all my stuff, so I just stand on the 4-wheeler that's next to my cabinet to make myself taller.

The good news is that we already know 5 songs.

Whatever works, right?

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

WILD THING


This post was shamelessly stolen from my man Destin over at Steady Clappin'. Make sure you head over there at some point and check it out. He does good work and makes way better mix tapes than I could, which is why I never started. Well, that and not enough people want a mix tape full of Life of Agony, Into Another, Only Living Witness and Helmet. But I digress....

"Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it."  —Maurice Sendak

WHAT HELMET LAWS ARE FOR

Antelope - 1
Mountain Bike Dork - 0

Thursday, October 6, 2011

JESUS' WEEN


Halloween started off as something much different than what it's become, but it's still way too evil for some people.

And by some people, I mean Evangelical Christians.

The origins of the holiday aren't exact, with some people attributing it to Romans and others saying it evolved from an and old Celtic festival. Either way, it's become basically one day a year (that gets stretched out an entire month) for people to celebrate scary things, dress up in costumes and eat candy. No one uses it as an excuse to raise the dead or hold sacrifices.

But Christians are getting upset (like they always do) about the fact that it's a holiday that doesn't celebrate Jesus. So they're taking it back.

Not only that, they're giving it an awesome new name: Jesus' Ween.

Okay, I'll admit that I added the apostrophe at the end of Jesus, but that doesn't make it any less silly.

I think this means that Christians will be handing out bibles and facts about God on October 31, largely as a promotional stunt for the first two weeks in November which is some sort of festival called "Jesus Win!"

But still, JesusWeen? That's just ridiculous.

I have plenty of Christian friends and I like seeing them and talking to them. We just can't talk about Christianity or God. I can't listen to them talking about a man in the sky watching over us, or how God placed dinosaur bones on the earth to test our faith. I can't keep a straight face listening to that, so it's just better to avoid it.

And for what it's worth, I don't go out of my way to talk about NOT being Christian or anything like that. Fair is fair.

What are the chances of Jesus' Ween actually replacing Halloween? I bet the odds are pretty slim—mostly because of the name.

Jesus' Ween. They have a website and everything.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

WORLD GONE SOUR

I like Method Man, I love Sour Patch Kids and I like fun. This is all three of those things.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

OUT OF THE PAST

I was on the Internet today (as I usually am on a day off) and followed a link a band had posted on Twitter. It led to their MySpace page. I laughed a bit, but as I was looking at it, I noticed something at the top of the page.

It said my name. I still had a MySpace page.

I'd forgotten all about it and thought I deleted it long ago, but that wasn't the case. So naturally, I looked through it. I hadn't updated a single thing in nearly two years and I couldn't even remember the last time I logged on—though it was probably around the time Collapse was still playing, which was early 2010. I went through the process of deleting it, because there's no point in having it if I never use it, but I chickened out at the last second. I'd already saved all the photos, but I'd forgotten about the blog. I used the MySpace blog a lot before I started this one and wanted to see if there was still anything up there and sure enough, there was.

I'd detailed our trip to Thom Green's wedding way back in early 2006 and wanted to make sure I kept it. So here it is, the ghost of my MySpace blog coming back one last time.

More Fun Than Your Weekend: The complete saga

(Part 1)

I realized that, as the clock turned 8:00 we weren't leaving at 7 as planned. No worries, though, it's not like we had anywhere to be in a great hurry. 8:15 rolls up, and the phone rings. It's Brook. "Hey, we're a couple of blocks away." I grab my stuff and I'm gone.

Nate and I discuss how we're both chronic over-packers, as I brought a bag of clothes for 5 days (when we're only gone 3) a side bag with my personal effects, a pillow and a sleeping bag. More than anyone else in the car, and 4 more days worth of clothes than Brook, who I think brought things for the wedding and what he had on.

Stopped at the Flying J in Nephi to load up on Rockstars. Not me, or course, because those things are terrible. Mike, Nate and Brook inhaled them and we were good to go. In St. George, they bought another can to give them the boost they needed to play cards when we rolled in to Mesquite. They played cards while I sat and drank coffee in the Casino Coffee Shop, because really, cards are stupid. It didn't last very long, and we left for Brook's parents house to stay the night.

The next morning, Brook's mom made us hash browns and kept calling me Charlie. I had no idea she was, but that's probably because I ignored every question asked to whoever in the house was named Charlie. Little did I know it was me.

Back on the road, more Rockstars, and Big Mike behind the wheel. In Primm, we figured out that Nate is a bit of a social deviant because he feels the need to cause some sort of destruction wherever he goes. He kept wanting to let air out of the tires of huge trucks because every time he looked out the window, he saw work and that upset him. He settled for "acquiring" some glasses that he and Mike took turns wearing throughout the weekend. They were pretty damn hip.


As we roll into Redlands, the first thing we do is eat. What we eat is, of course, burritos from Cuco's. As usual, I am the last one to get food by at least ten minutes. Everyone is already done, and I eat one before making the trip to Loomis the Turkish Tank's house to greet everyone. We bullshit for a while, and decide to go looking for a hotel before Thom's "bacherlor party"/show.

Three hotels we try, all in declining quality, were booked for the weekend and we finally find one in the form of a Super 8.

(Part 1.5)

Before I go any further, I forgot to tell you about a funny story that occured on the drive...

Nate spent a little bit of time talking about this girl, for reasons left unsaid, and how the two of them had become AIM buddies, so he was talking to her on the Sidekick. Brook really wanted to know who it was, but Nate wasn't about to give that information away, mainly because he thought it was funny how badly Brook wanted to know. The next day in the car, Nate was riding shotgun talking to her and Brook was behind him. Since Brook has the "adult version" of a Sidekick aka a Blackberry, he cued up his own AIM and proceeded to try and steal said girl's AIM name over Nate's shoulder. Neither Mike or Nate knew what was going on, but I was wise to the whole scheme and eagerly awaited the end result.

A few minutes pass and Brook is sitting, as Nate put it, "like a small bunny" crouched on the back seat, when Nate looks at Brook, notices he's on AIM and says, "Who are you talking to?"
"Scott," Brook replies, "who are you talking to?"
Nate thinks for a second and says, "Scott."

A few seconds pass, Nate looks back at his SKII, and slowly turns back to Brook. Hilarity ensued as Brook became a punching bag for a brief moment, but a good laugh was had by all in the end.

(Part 2)

Located on Super 8 Motel Road in Redlands California, you'll find the nicest place to stay in all of California. At $63 a night, it was quite a bargain and we checked in, took our stuff up and I ate my other burrito that I had been saving for about an hour.

This hotel room may have been one of the ghettoest I've seen in all my years of hotel occupation. It is eclipsed only by the The Super 8 in Huntington and whatever it was called in Grand Island, Nebraska. That one had cockroaches and no heat.

I tried to get Nate and Mike to share a bed, but they thought it was a ridiculous notion that the two biggest dudes should share. Nate and I became bunk mates as well as Nate and Brook. Mike pulled back the covers only to reveal a blanket that he was convinced had small pox, so he wouldn't allow it on the bed. The comforter, also had a light brown stain towards the bottom, so that was out as well.

As Nate rolled over on his side, he looked at the wall and informed me that there were stab marks in the wall. 4 of them. As well as a nice long slash mark. Above the door, there was a little graffiti piece and the chain lock was missing. Frankly, it looked like it had been kicked in, and that made us all feel a little better. There was also no alarm clock. All in all, we picked a real winner.

That night was Thom's bachelor party/show, so we all headed over there for the night. After the show was over, Mike decided that we should hit up the Food 4 Less for Chocolate syrup and soymilk. Apparently it's much more delicious than the regular Chocolate Silk, so we gave it a try. After that, we hit up another place for more burritos before heading up to the "after party" at some dudes giant house. Mike's attempt at his own Chocolate Milk was a disaster, as he used 3/4ths of the chocolate, making it so thick no one could get past a single sip.

Then it was back to our bad ass hotel to call it a night. Nate was convinced that as soon as the lights were out it would be giggle-fest 2K6 and we'd all laugh until 6 in the morning. I think that's just because Nate gets a huge kick out of making Mike laugh harder than he should about anything. Especially tickling.


After a little while of those types of shennanigans, we all fell asleep to Hayden Fox and old re-runs of Coach. And giggling, of course....

(Part 3)

Saturday morning, we all woke up pretty early, but then went back to sleep and woke up again around noon. It was the day of the wedding, so we all had to get dressed to impress before hitting up The Lotus Garden for lunch. Nate didn't have any pants that fit, so we took time at the local Mervyn's while he get a pair. The problem was, they didn't have anything longer than a 29, so it looked as if he was wearing flood pants.

He changed in the parking lot of while Brook, Mike and myself went inside. Mike grabbed the sunglasses from the truck stop, but them on and grabbed Brook's arm, pretending to be blind. Brook had a little trouble keeping a straight face, as did I, but went along with it. We got to our table, and Brook let go of Mike's arm, but still wanting to keep up the charade, Mike walked right in to the bus boy and almost knocked him over, felt his way to our table and sat down. I held the menu over my face when he asked the waiter for a braille menu and Brook had to struggle through saying, "I'll read it to you." When the waiter came back, Mike asked if he could have some tea. The waiter was a little confused because the tea was on the table right in front of Mike, but poured him a cup and Mike felt his way to it to have a drink.

After a few minutes of that, Mike got bored and took the glasses off. The waiter and bus boy that Mike had run into were a little put off by the whole thing, but did their best to contain themselves.

The wedding was at 2:30 and we made it there just in time. It was outside at a sort of ampitheater, and there were quite a few people there. We made our way over to the other seven SLC kids that came down that morning, and they were all wearing Hawaiian shirts they picked up at Smith's Market Place before they left. During the ceremony, Blake began making quiet jokes and Mike just about lost it. He was trying so hard not to laugh that his face was bright red, and tears were welling up in his eyes. It looked like he was so caught up in the beauty of the moment he might cry. Nope. Just listening to Blake make jokes under his breath.

The reception was next, and it took us a few tries to find it. When the Redlands kids started following us, because they didn't know either, we thought we'd never find it. A few tries around the school and we finally found the gym. Thom and Krissi weren't there yet, so the food was off limits until they showed up, but that didn't stop Blake from taking a piece.

After the newlyweds showed up and the food was fair game, everyone made their way over. Mike, Brook and Nate came back over with cheesecake, cupcakes and a few other things, and a huge smile.
"All that stuff is vegan?" I asked.
"Yeah," said Mike, "Little Ryan told me there was vegan cheesecake, and there was a sign that said vegan on half the table."
Being skeptical, Ben and I went to partake in the delicious treats, but asked first.

The only things that were vegan was the cookies, some type of apple fritter and the cheesecake that hadn't been brought out yet. There were a few signs that said "vegan" but only next to a select few items. Nothing that those dudes ate being the select few.

After the reception, it was off to Cuco's again, but I was all burritoed out, so Brook and I waited in the car as the rest of the dudes got food, then it was back to our hotel to plan the next move.

(Part 4)

The second we got back to the room, we all changed out of our wedding clothes and into more comfortable attire. For Mike, this was Gym shorts and nothing else. He crawled under the covers, and Brook and I lied on our beds and turned on the TV. After about an hour, Nate started to get restless and forced us all to go to the beach and Taco Loco. I wasn't too into it at first, but then the hungrier I got, the better it sounded. Especially since there would be no burritos involved. Brook said he's go as long as we didn't have to take his car. The other dudes from SLC rolled up, with another car in tow, so we were off. Nate jumped in the mini-van leaving Mike, Brook and I in the car with some girl that we didn't know. We rode to an apartment complex to pick up a few more people, and as soon as we stopped, Mike jumped ship leaving Brook and I with Ryan and some broad.

At the gas station, another girl came up and said, "If you guys want to ride in the other car, I'll ride in here..." We didn't even wait for her to finish. Brook and I jumped out, ran to the other car, pushed Conor out of the way and jumped in. Conor looked mildly upset for about three seconds, then took our old spot.

The drive there takes about 45 minutes to an hour, and was rather boring. I watched Brook fuck around on AIM and the internet for a few minutes, but then he began texting this babe, and since we all know you don't read another man's texts, I was left to my own devices. That meant texting McCall and telling her to meet us at Taco Loco, which she did along with her BF.

We bullshitted in front of Taco Loco for a bit, and headed down to the beach. I chatted with McCall and Nicholas while a few other guys walked up the beach, and the rest of the kids watched a few others go swimming in 50 degree weather. Some of them had fewer clothes on than others, and we all got a pretty good idea of just how cold the ocean was.

I drove back to Redlands even though I had no idea where I was going, and the windshield wipers made a scraping sound that drove me insane. I had to have them on the whole way back, though and at one point I thought I might tear them off and take my chances with impaired, rain soaked vision. I didn't though, and we made it back to our hotel alive.

Mike and Nate walked in about 20 minutes after we did and Mike had a water bottle full of sand. Brook made fun of him for a minute, and it turns out that everyone that broke away from the group had taken a sand souvenier for one reason or another. *coughgirlcough*

Cute, isn't it?

The next morning, we tried to leave at nine and I had to set the alarm on my phone, as our room did not come with one. At about 9:05 I finally woke up to the phone vibrating, turned it off and went back to sleep. We got all ready to go and were on our way out the door about 11. But first, Nate decided that he should see what was underneath Brook and Mike's matress, so he lifted it up and found a nice little surprise... A half empty bottle of Courvoisier and a soiled rag. We began laughing, but were taken back in horror as Mike picked up the rag for some reason. Yes. The man who would not allow the comforter on the bed because of a questionable stain and was convinced the other blanket had small pox, touched, with his bare hand mind you, a stiff, soiled rag he found under the matress of a Super 8 next to an old bottle of Courvoisier.

Nate, being the social deviant that he is, felt the need to pour chocolate syrup around the bottle in a sort of word balloon. No real reason other than it seemed like a good idea at the time.

And with that, we packed up our stuff and were on our way to Vegas.


(Part 5)

Since I know you're sick of these things, you'll be glad to know this is the last one. Sorry for taking up precious bulletin space.

The last day of the trop consisted of more driving time than hanging out time, and that's never fun. Especially since I was riding shotgun most of the way while Brook slept and Nate listened to his iPod. We were making a run through Vegas to hit up a surprise birthday party for this broad named Breon. I'd only met this girl once, so I wasn't as excited as the other dudes to go, but I figured it could be a good time anyway.

While Mike drove, I tried to think of good music to keep him alert while he drove, since the radio tuned out the farther away we got from the city. I cued up Saves the Day's Through Being Cool and it was sing-along central for about half an hour, but I kind of fumbled from then on.

We made it to Vegas in barley three hours and headed for the Wild Oats so we could get some lunch before the party. We had about two hours to kill and all of us were hungry. We met up with a few Redlands kinds and the Ohio dudes and killed a little time.

After that was got old, we decided to hit up the best place to kill time in the entire world: Barnes & Noble. Brook told the other car to follow him, but he took us on a roundabout trip that took a little while longer than we expected. As we pulled into the parking lot, he confessed that there was a B&N right down the street from Wild Oats, but had a crush on the girl that worked at the one we were at. So he made up a story about getting lost and trying his best to find one. It worked out all right.

Breon's sister opened the door for us and was amazed that we had the insight to not park right in front of their house. Apparently she mistook us for someone that's lived an incredibly sheltered life and we knew nothing of the art of surprise. I was offended. Okay, that's a lie.

At the birthday party there were three bottles of silly string sitting on the counter, and Mike, Brook and I each grabbed one. I felt a little strange about doing so, because I felt I didn't know Breon well enough to be spraying her with Silly String this early in our relationship. I held on to it anyway. We passed the time waiting for her playing with the new puppy they had and being amazed at the size of her other dog. It was gigantic, and that's not even a little bit of an exaggeration.

When the garage door finally opened, we all hid around the corner and waited. As soon as we saw her come around the corner, everyone began screaming and we unloaded let loose with the Silly String. Only it wasn't her. It was her mom. We wasted the good surprise on the mom, but still wasted the rest of our String on Breon.

The 24 kids from AZ showed up eventually and we began to initiate Big Chris into x1upx crew. He drew the barn on the first try and was welcomed with open arms. I had been inducted to the crew a few days prior, but almost dropped out when Nate told me I had to wear a party hat that read "One Up Noob" for the rest of the party. That kind of shit just won't slide, crew or not.

At about 8:00 we were on the road again headed for home. I fell asleep outside Vegas, but it only lasted a few minutes. We stopped at the store in St. George where Nate and Mike bought sandwich supplies and we were back on the road. I felt a little left out because Nate was on AIM and Brook and Mike were both texting again, so I hooked up my iPod and listened to Weezer for a while. Just past Cedar City we hit what may have been the worst weather I've ever had to drive in. The fog was so thick the end of the hood was barely visible and to top it off, it was snowing. Brook just tried his best, but if had driven off the road we wouldn't have known until we hit something and the car stopped.

About fifteen minutes away from home, we saw a cop stopped on the side of the freeway. Not thinking anything of it, Mike just kept going 90 mph right past him.
"You saw that cop, right?"
Yeah," said Mike, still doing close to 90, "why?"
Just then, Mike looked in his rearview saw the flashing lights, and said, "Oh. Speeding. Right."

The cop let us off with a warning, but did ask if we had a gun in the car, because of Brook's Concealed Weapons Permit. Fortunately, Brook had taken it out of the glove box before we left. Otherwise, there might have been another section written from the police station.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

THURSDAY

A Michigan window cleaner gave this to me at work today.

He's in town for a skating competition and as I dropped his check off, he pulled it out and flipped it on the table.

"That's for you," he said.

I thought it was a wooden nickel at first, so I picked it up. It's the same size and weight, but that's not what it was.

"Do you know what that is?"
"I have no idea."
"It's a little bit of a riddle."

I turned it over in my hands looking at the design on the front. I was already over thinking it. Whenever I get something like this from a customer—and I get a lot of them—it's always stupidly simple. As soon as I get it, I'm equally amused that someone went through the trouble to carry it out but upset that I didn't get it right away.

I looked over the letters, T U I T pressed into hard plastic, almost like a poker chip but not as heavy. The way the T's are imprinted and slightly larger made me think there was something more to it. I began looking for a design between the letters and his wife already knew I was trying too hard.

"You're thinking too much," she said, "I can already tell."

This is something he does all the time. At every new restaurant in every new city they visit. He gets a kick out of it but his wife, who has seen it too many times, is sick of it and always just a tad embarrassed. But she sees how happy it makes him, so she never says a word.

He handed me his credit card. "Think it over a minute."

I ran the card and came back still no closer than I was before. As he signed the receipt, he looked up, smiling.

"Still got nothing," I said.
"Think about the shape."
"Circular?"

He stood up and grabbed his coat to leave.

I know there is no way that he's leaving without telling me what the hell this is. I know that for sure. It's all part of his little game (luckily this was my last table of the day so I had time to dick around with silly riddles) and I just had to wait it out.

"Maybe not circular," he said. "Well we've gotta get going."

I stood there waiting for the inevitable punchline for this joke that's now gone on a bit too long."

"But don't worry," he said as he walked away, "you'll get a round to it."

Click.

A round TUIT.

I let out a long sigh that he's obviously heard before. The kind of sigh that says "God damn it. Why didn't I think of that right off the bat?"

He turned back around, laughed and proceeded to tell me the origin of his Round TUIT gag while his wife kept inching closer and closer to the door waiting for him to finish this story for the thousandth time.

And then he left.

This is what I do at work.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

HALLOWEEN

I don't do Halloween very well. I always come up with a really, really clever costume sometime around November 3rd, spend a few minutes kicking myself and then making a point to remember it for next year.

I never do.

This year, I wanted to be Marty McFly from Back to the Future. I didn't really have any plans other than work, but everyone else was planning on dressing up so I didn't want to be the only fun hater. So last night (Saturday, the night everyone was out doing fun stuff) I spent three hours driving around town looking for an orange vest and a denim jacket. I couldn't find either of them. I figured an orange vest was going to be a bit hard to find (all I found was something similar to what a crossing guard would wear) but I couldn't even locate a denim jacket. And I was at Walmart for Christ's sake. I figured they'd have a whole section of the store dedicated to awesome denim fashion, but no.

The other problem I have with Halloween, is that I get set on one idea and that's that. I would have definitely been able to put something else together, but I was set. It was Marty McFly or bust. And as it got later and later, the whole thing began looking like more and more of a long shot. Finally, after a third (!) Walmart store let me down, I gave up.

Defeated, I went home. Didn't go looking for any parties, didn't try to find anything fun to do, just went home and read comics.

Sidenote -- I'm way awesome, by the way, if you haven't been able to figure that out from this post and the dozens of others on this blog like it.

I was able to throw something really boring together this morning, but it wasn't the same.

Luckily, my whole day was made better by the best Halloween costume of the year—Lil Ron Washington.
ARLINGTON, Texas -- Seven-year-old Liam Roybal, whose Ron Washington costume has become an Internet sensation, earned himself a trip to the World Series as a guest of the Texas Rangers.

Roybal, who lives in Keller, Texas, met the Rangers manager in the dugout prior to Game 4.
It makes me smile every time I see it. Now he gets to attend Game 4 of the World Series and even kick things off by yelling "Play Ball" at the beginning of the game.

That's how you spend Halloween.

I'll have to remember that costume for next year.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

NOT QUITE...

In a 1985 issue of EBONY magazine, they had a feature called "Portraits of the Stars" and used computer wizardry (and in the mid 80's, it really was wizardry. Now, your 6-year-old could probably do the same thing with some weird program they download from the Internet) to project what the stars of the 80's would look like in the year 2000.



Here's what they said about Michael Jackson, if you can't read the little tiny writing: "At 40, he will have aged gracefully and will have a handsome, more mature look. His fans will have grown tenfold by the year 2000."

What they wanted to write was, "We're pretty sure he's going to slowly turn in to Lando Calrissian from The Empire Strikes Back."

Thursday, August 20, 2009

FROM THE PAST

I found a stash of cassette tapes and unmarked CD's the other day. I was afraid to listen to any of them for one reason—embarrassment.

I don't know exactly what's on them, but I have an idea. I'm always weary of listening to old mixtapes because I'm somewhat ashamed of the music I used to listen to. Now, a lot of it is still good and I'll still stand by that. There are a lot of bands I liked when I was 15 that I still like now (i.e. Misfits, Social Distortion and hell, Rage Against the Machine even) but for every good song that comes on I dread what might be right after it.

Keep in mind that I was 15 in 1995. That's a long fucking time ago. I didn't have any older siblings to get me into music. The only older guys I knew only listened to U2, so I was kind of on my own. Every couple of weeks, I'd take the number 7 bus down to Sugarhouse and wander around Raunch (which at that time, had moved to the old strip mall that was eventually torn down to make way for the Wild Oats) with babysitting money and try to guess what was going to be good. And usually I only had enough for one cassette single and some Taco Bell afterwards, so I had to choose wisely.

But I digress.

I pulled out one tape, popped it in my stereo (is it weird that I still have a stereo with a dual cassette deck?), hit fast-forward and stopped randomly and I knew exactly what was playing.

Lenny Kravitz - "Are You Gonna Go My Way?"
Not as bad as it could have been, but still. The only reason I ever owned anything by Lenny Kravitz is because I had a crush on a girl who loved him. Naturally, I thought the way to get her was to also love Lenny Kravitz. That didn't work and I was stuck with the man's entire discography purchased from second-hand CD stores with the rest of my aforementioned babysitting money.

Go again. Fast forward. Stop.

Live - "Lightning Crashes"
I don't know why I had this. It played on The Box all the time and it was easy enough to play on guitar. I made my band cover it a couple of times. I can't remember what we were called then. It was a little bit after we decided Renaldo and the Smoothies was too silly and before were came up the brilliance that was Rhythm and Rhymes. Back to Live. I saw them in concert when they opened for Bush and No Doubt, then they kind of faded away. I probably still have their second album on one of these tapes, too.

Fast forward.

Better Than Ezra - "Good"
This is still a good song. I stopped paying attention to anything they did afterwards, but this is solid.

Again.

Hootie and the Blowfish - "Hold My Hand"
Fuck. I don't have any kind of humorous anecdote for why I had this.

Fast forward.

Blues Traveler - "Run Around"
I'm convinced that harmonica sales tripled after this album came out. Then shortly afterwards everyone realized they weren't as easy to play as imagined and they all wound up at the DI.

Go again.

Dave Matthews Band - "What Would You Say"
This is what I was afraid of. I'm losing indie cred by the second and my hardcore scene points are flying out the door at record pace.

Fast Forward.

Soundgarden - "Fell On Black Days"
This is still one of my favorite bands. A little bit of redemption.

One more time.

Candlebox - "Far Behind"
God damn it.

That's just one tape. I like to think that as I got older my taste in music got better, but I'm afraid of all the shitty metalcore that awaits me on one of those unmarked CD's from the early 2000's. I don't think I can do that right now.