Sep 19, 2011
So with that said, allow me to get back to my roots with another true moment of comedy from my days in Idaho. This December will actually mark the 10 year anniversary of this epic financial fail!
You see, every Sunday when I was away at school I would call home to chat it up with my mom. I specifically say my mom because a typical conversation with my dad went something like this:
Me: "Hi Dad!"
Dad: "You got a job?"
Dad "You need money?"
Dad: "Ok, here's your mother."
On one particular Sunday however, with only a few weeks remaining in the semester, the conversation did not go as planned. It started off routine as I assured my dad for the 10th time in as many weeks that yes, I indeed had a job. However, I answered his inquiry about needing money with a hesitant yes! He cautiously inquired as to who-what-when-where-why and how I would be spending his hard earned cash. I explained to him that all my friends snowboarded, I wanted to try snowboarding for the first time, but the less than $60 in my checking account wasn't nearly enough to cover the cost of going.
Within 24 hours, being the loving dad he's always been, he transferred $250 into my checking account and sent me a short e-mail that went something like this... "Bucky, I put $250 in your account to go snowboarding. That should cover board and binding rentals, a 2-day pass because you'll spend the first day on your butt, and gas money for somebody to drive you there."
So there I was, 3 weeks left in the semester, the $57 and change in my checking account had just been quadrupled, and I could hardly wait to spend my well-begged-for money on..... WENDY'S AND TACO BELL?!?!?! Yup, you heard that right! Rather than rent a snowboard and dish out some cash for a 2-day pass... I woofed down bean burritos and junior bacon cheeseburgers EVERY DAY for the next three weeks!
Now fast forward about a month. I was home for Christmas break and my good buddy Devin was hanging out with my dad and I, watching the Suns game. At some point during the game Devin casually mentioned that he was headed to Flagstaff that weekend to go snowboarding. I casually, and very regrettably, said in response to his statement, "Dang! Lucky! I wish I had the money to go snowboarding! I've never been before!"
All I can remember from that moment on is the hybrid look of confusion and anger on my dad's face as he stared me straight in the eyes and said, "Wait a second son! If you didn't go snowboarding than what'd you do with the $250 I gave you last month?"
Hmmmm.... About that....
The moral of this story??? If I you ever hear me say I want to go snowbaording for the first time, cash out your 401K and start buying stock in Wendy's and Taco Bell!
Jul 28, 2011
At the risk of sounding like I'm attacking this kid from all angles I will just give you the facts. By facts, I mean things that I personally observed, on MULTIPLE occasions. I called this particular roommate "home boy." Apologies for not remembering why I called him that. If I had to guess it was one of two things. Either he had some hard to pronounce name and I found it easier to call him that, or I was still easing out of my "wanna be black" phase in the which I referred to 80% of the people I met as "home boy." Also, please note that I moved apartments about 6 weeks into the semester when home boy crossed the line for the final time!
Height: Roughly 6'1"
Weight: Around 160
Employment status: Part time -- evening shift
Employer: Burger King
Shower Frequency: Maybe every 4 days
My Typical Day Includes: Wearing the same fry grease and Dorito stained black pants I wore to work at Burger King the night before (and slept in) to class. I traditionally pick my shirt out from under a pile of dirty clothes stacked higher than my desk. After class I return home and open the door to my room that smells like my dirty laundry and rotten fruit had a baby. Once inside I take a seat on my sweat stained chair and play World of Warcraft for a few hours while I throw down a pack of Lays potato chips making sure to shine my hair with my greasy fingers every few minutes. When 6pm rolls around I begin to searching through my pile of dirty clothes for my official Burger King employee T-Shirt. After it is found I begin the painstaking search for my hair net that I tend to leave on the family room floor but usually ends up somehwere else. After I find my hair net I head to work at Burger King from 6:30 pm to 11:30 pm at which time I head straight to the gas station for a refill on Doritos. Upon arriving back at my apartment I kick off my shoes, THROW MY HAIR NET ON THE FLOOR, sprawl out on the couch, put one finger in my nose, another finger in my mouth, and spend the next 3 hours watching Star Trek re-runs and wiping my boogers on the couch, not realizing that my roommate Scott Sorensen is taking a picture of me with his phone!
Here's to you home boy!
AND HERE'S THE KICKER...
Relationship Status: IN A RELATIONSHIP! Yup... you better believe home boy had a little home girl. I didn't stick around long enough when the two of them were snuggling together on the couch to really meet her but I stand by the saying there's a Jill for every Jack!
Now this second post tonight comes from an e-mail that my dad sent me yesterday afternoon. Admittedly, while stuck in traffic on I-17 I opened the youtube link in the e-mail and nearly wrecked my truck laughing when I saw this...
My initial reaction was as previously mentioned... pure laughter. Then a light bulb went off in my head? Perhaps we could replenish our Border Patrol with a few Apes and some Ak-47's! I'd gladly have them on my team with Greg Boam and the guy from No Country for Old Men...
Jul 23, 2011
Here's some pics from our enjoyable get away, followed by one SERIOUSLY AMAZING video I took during our spotlighting adventure! Outside of the time I saw 2 mountain lions running together, it's by far the coolest thing I've ever seen with a spotlight. Especially because it stood there while I tooks pictures and videos of it...
Waldo, Destiny, and John... Waldo appears to be the most relaxed. haha.
Bonnie and I... How's that for some proper grammer!
Bonnie's daughter Grace and her ever-loving "dolly"...
Bonnie's son Tucker with his, "It's 2 hours past my bedtime but I can't stop staring at the AWESOME fire" look on his face...
I told you, the kid wouldn't stop looking at the fire...
Tucker preferred star gazing over eating his hot dog...
Probably the only candid shot of Bonnie from the trip...
If he wasn't staring at the fire he was staring at the dirt! Oh to be a kid again...
Waldo enjoying his last bite of steak...
Apparently John missed the "We're camping in the mountains, not Hawaii memo"...
Just enjoyin myself...
Tucker had marshmallows for breakfast! CLASSIC...
We took a small hike this morning, and naturally it broke into a quick game of hide and seek...
The kids starting to fall behind...
I LOVE this picture! HA HA! Grace didn't last very long on the hike...
Nothing like a cold pop and a cool mountain breeze...
Ok, this is a video I took last night when we were spotlighting. Excuse my child-like excitement throughout...
Ok, so now for the second post...
I recently lost a "friendly" wager about losing 20 pounds in 6 weeks. Admittedly I didn't try very hard, and will make no further excuses. However, it aggravates me to know that I weigh more now than I ever have in my life. There is also something else that aggravates me... SHAVING! So I figured why not combine my dislike for weight gain and shaving and make it a publicized ordeal.
Tonight I will purchase a scale and weigh myself. I will also shave. Then, if I can lose 2 and a half pounds a week, for 6 weeks, I get to keep my beard. In other words, my goal is 15 pounds in 6 weeks. However, I will weigh myself every saturday night and if I don't weigh in 2.5 pounds lighter than the previous week, I have to shave! GAME ON!
Jul 20, 2011
I call this first story, "Saturday Mornings"
Outside of the occasional church service project I can think of 3 things that would drag me out of bed before 9am on a Saturday morning. They're all convienantly intertwined... Shooting, hunting, and hiking. So about a year ago when I found myself in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, slightly delirious, at 7am, for a reason that WASN'T one of those 3.... I was naturally in a bad mood.
As I left Wal-Mart with a few items, my eyes still half open, I spotted a 50 something year old man exiting his stereotypical Buick. I didn't make much of his "angry old man" demeanor as I made the short journey to my truck. I quickly threw my purchases in the bed, and without giving it a second thought, I placed my shopping cart smack in the middle of the empty space next to me.
I had not even turned around when I made eye contact with that same angry Buick owner. He stopped dead in his tracks and while extending his arms towards my "misplaced" cart in a rather violent "I can't believe you just did that" motion, he looked me square in the eyes and said, "What, you can't put the cart back in the bin?!" Ladies and gentleman I don't know what to blame for my response, but If I had to choose something I'd say it was the mere fact that I was awake at 7am on a Saturday and I wasn't on my way to shoot something. The man had scarcely uttered the word "bin" when out of my mouth shot 2 words, spoken very clearly, with a very subtle pause between them...... "WHAT... FAG!!"
I don't believe I've ever seen a more frustrated and confused look on another human beings face in my entire life. "What, you can't put the cart back in the bin?!" "WHAT... FAG!" We stared awkwardly at each other for what seemed like 5 seconds before he made a classic "you're ridiculous" gesture. You know... that gesture that sports coaches make when they've exhausted themselves arguing a call and then, as they turn to walk away, they throw both hands simultaneously towards the official like they're shoving a midget. Well that's what he did!
Moments later I sat in my truck and replayed the previous 30 sconds of my life. I shook my head and then BURST INTO LAUGHTER! All I could think was, "Dang, I'm a grumpy dude on Saturday mornings!"
I call this second story "Lessons Learned," and it takes place on a not-so-surprisingly warm April afternoon in Glendale. I was at track practice, participating in a very light long jumping work-out, preparing for regionals. The distance runners were "relaxing" by their standards, running 400 meter reapeats. After a little while I noticed some of the distance runners had taken their shirts off. This was fairly common practice for them, and never caused much of an issue because their work outs usually didn't take place on campus.
Well I decided that even though my work out was light, the temperature was hot enough, and the "atmosphere" of practice was relaxing enough that I'd take my shirt off too. So I did. Not only 5 minutes later coach Sample walked out onto the track. He obviously noticed something "diferent" because he immediately approached me inquiring as to why my shirt was off. He wasn't mean about it and in fact was almost laughing.
So anyways, just as I was about to answer his question with something totally predicatable like, "It's so hot outside" or "I can't stand this heat" I noticed the distance team had just finished another 400 and were standing nearby. So I quickly changed my excuse, and as I pointed at the crowd of distance runners I said to coach, "Why can't I have my shirt off?! All the girls on the distance team are runnin around in nothin but their shorts and training bras!?"
I thought nothing of my comment. To the best of my knowledge I was ponting out the facts. Within seconds I had nearly ever girl on the distance team screaming things at me like, "Oh ya real funny Scott" and "Ha ha-- SHUT-UP SCOTT!" I remained confused as laughter broke out all around me. I swear on my life it wasn't until 2 or 3 days later, when the story was being re-told by a close friend, that my mistake was brought to my attention. You see I never knew there was a difference between a "training bra" and a "sports bra." I honestly had no clue. I had innocently assumed that because the girls were "training" in them that they were called training bra's. I suppose that's my bad... sorry ladies!
This third story is short, sweet, and "tasty" in it's own right. I call it "Wow, really!" Over a decade ago McDonalds went through a phase where their "large" choclate shake was as big as you could get. They did away with the extra large. If I recall correctly, the large was something around 20 oz. I should know because I spend my fair share of money at McDonalds!
So one night while I was out with my friend Jen, I developed a serious jones for a chocolate shake! I asked her to swing into the nearest McDonalds drive thru. I must have been going through "withdrawls" because I asked her to order me 3 large chocolate shakes! She did so with a look on her face like, "You gonna drink all those buddy?" "My response was something like, the larges aren't even that big, they didn away with the extra large!" Now before I go any further, you have to understand that I had polished off 2 large shakes plenty of times, so I really didn't think much about ordering 3. That is, until they handed them to us through the window.
Lo and behold, McDonalds had not only re-introduced the extra-large chocolate shake, but they had misheard our order, and thus I found myself with 3... count em... 3 large chocolate shakes in my lap! I was suddenly faced with a "tasty" little challenge, and instictively decided that I was not going to let the shakes win! I was going to down all 96 ounces of McDonalds artificial goodness!
I finished the first one in what must have been record time. I drank the second much slower while chit-chatting with Jen's parents back at her house. I began sipping the third, and final shake while laying flat on my back in the rear seat of her car while she drove me home. The third shake had severely melted at this point, and even by my own alter-picky standards, had lost it's flavor!
Nevertheless... I kept on sipping. Notice I did not say chugging, for if I chosen to do anything but sip at that point I would've ralphed all over the back seat of her car! Alas though, only blocks from my home, I downed the remaining few ounces in one giant gulp! Predictably I was a little slow getting out of her car, and spent much of the next few hours laying on my bed re-evaluating my love of chocolate shakes.
So there you have it... 3 classics! See you tomorrow!
Jul 16, 2011
... only I was 12 feet up on a ladder. I hesitated to answer it because it was a number I didn't have in my phone. However my truck was currently for sale on craigslist so I went ahead and answered it. The following conversation ensued between me and a Mexican that spoke broken english.
"You still sell toyota?"
"Toyota four wheel drive with camper?"
"Are you calling about my truck for sale?"
"You still sell toyota?"
"uuuuuhhh... I can hardly understand you, but yes my truck is still for sale do you want to come look at it?"
"I am coming from San Diego to buy your truck. I will be buying truck in a few hours."
"Wait you're gonna but my truck?"
"Can I ask you questions?"
"What? Ya... sure."
"It have camper?"
"Ya dude, it's got a camper"
"It have four wheel drive?"
"Ya dude, it's got 4 wheel drive."
"Ok, I come to buy your truck, I call you when I'm close."
Soon after my college roommate Tommy who'd been staying with me during the break between semesters inquired as to what all the confusion on the phone was about. I told him some mexican that spoke broken english said he was coming from San Diego, right then, to buy my truck.
I waived it off as another "partially" interested craigslist inquiry that wouldn't ever come to anything, and kept on painting. That was, until the man called back and told me that he was around the area of 59th and Glendale and he had 2 guys with him and they were coming to pay cash for my truck. I had recently dropped the price from $5,000 to $4,500 and they offered me $4,300 cash. I told him that'd be fine and gave them directions to my parents house. The whole thing was already looking pretty shady.
About a half hour later a beat up green Chevy pick-up truck pulls up and three mexicans get out. Two of them spoke little to no English so thankfully Tommy knew some espanol. The third was the man I had talked to on the phone. I immediately offered for them to test drive my truck but instead they just sort of looked it over, I told them it ran like a champ, and my dad invited them all inside.
Once inside one of them pulled out the fattest wad of cash I've ever seen in my life. Now as this is going on the two guys that spoke broken English are talking about how they were in a hurry. Then the one that spoke the best english said that they had to be back in San Diego with the truck by 5am. This was somewhere around 8pm.
So back to the cash. Now you'd think that the $4300 would be handed to us in 100's and 50's but no, they handed my dad $4,000 in 20's, and 3 $100 bills. Who asks for 4 G's in 20's from a bank??? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that the $4300 didn't come from a "bank" per say. Either way they whole thing was turnign out to be shady but hey, they paid for it, so it was there's. That wasn't the end of the shadiness though.
A few minutes later my dad explained attempted to explain to them that in Arizona you got to keep your license plate and use it on your new vehicle. They were not understanding and suddenly became panicked. One of them spoke up and said, "We have to have license plate! We cannot get pulled over!" I almost started busting up laughing. My dad printed them off a temporary one from the DMV website and next thing you knew they were on their way back to San Diego. They never even test drove the thing! From San Diego... who knows where they were going?!?!
Here's a picture of the cash they handed over...
The moral of this story? Don't ask questions... just get paid! haha!
Jul 15, 2011
"From Whatever You Wanna Do To Flat Broke In 5 Hours"
"The Number You Have Dialed"
or my most recent...
"The Dating Trifecta"
I'll work on this seperate blog plan but in the mean time I've got another failed interaction with the opposite sex that I was trying to post yesterday but blogger was being lame. This was one of those moments where I would've given almost anything to have the power to disappear. Oh and following this short story is a quick roast of my cuz and roommate Nick in celebration of his 26th Birthday.
Have you ever walked into your place of residence following a date with a blank stare on your face that you can't wipe off. You know the look that's often coupled with the uber slow moving of your head to the left and right while you incoherently mumble something like "What just happened?"
I apologize in advance that some of the details of this night are a bit foggy, therefore shortening this entry significantly but hopefully I can still properly illustrate my frustrations.
My date and I went to the Idaho State fair. It's important to note that this was her idea! It's also important to note that she had text me throughout the day of our date telling me how excited she was to go with me to the fair! Like I said, that's important to keep in mind as you continue reading! I actually found her desire to go to the fair rather strange considering she very openly and very frequently discussed her low tolerance for "white trash."
The night was terrible from the get-go! When I went to pick her up at her apartment there must've been 10 other people in there. Which wouldn't be a big deal at all if she didn't come out and explain to me just moments later that all of those people were coming to the fair with us. As I sat there basically speechless, I did a quick "brod's to bro's count" and realized that not only had our one-on-one date become a group date, but the group was a majority dudes.
Here's 5 things I remember from the remainder of that night...
1) A very awkward care ride in which she sat in the front passenger seat of her friends car while I was sandwiched in the back between two people I'd never met.
2) Within an hour of arriving at the fair she'd said twice as many words to every guy in the "group" as she had to me.
3) At one point she turned down my offer to get food explaing how she "wasn't that hungry." 10 minutes later she's practically sitting on another dude's lap helping him polish off his Indian fry bread.
4) We stopped at the casino on the way home (her idea) and after explaining to her my lack of desire to follow her and her friends inside she said, "It's all good you can just hang in the lobby til were done."
5) When everyone got back to her apartment they popped the first season of "Nip/Tuck" into the DVD player and I made an abrupt exit!
Who sits around with a bunch of people and watches Nip/Tuck?!?!?! I literally celebrated my safe arrival home that night!
The moral of this story??? If you're taking a date to the fair... DRIVE YOUR OWN CAR!!!!
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Tonight Nick Sorensen was worth exactly 1000 characters. Here's to you on your birthday Cuz...
Who is Nick Sorensen? According to his self created and conveniently worded website... ThisIsNick.com he's a grade-A right-brained photographer But that's just a front he puts on to conceal his true identity. Nick is a strange specimen. He has a perma-jolly for anything with a Canon, Apple, or J-Crew stamp on it. His room is littered with GQ magazines, abstract art, and vinyls! Not cd's. His I-Tunes library is overflowing with music HE'S proud YOU'VE never heard of! His Math skills rival Rosie O’Donnell's people skills. His car's ALMOST as manly as a tampon! I am convinced he would clean the lint out of a strangers belly button before he cleaned his own toilet! As of 10 minutes ago Nick is officially 26. The number 26 holds special meaning for Nick. It represents his average grade in math class and the number of times he's watched “The Notebook.”... BY HIMSELF!
But all joking aside he's a good friend, a good roommate, and dog-gone-it... people like him!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICK!
Jul 12, 2011
So one day after woofing down some Chik-fil-A for lunch the Howe family invited us over for Dinner. All I could think was, "Chick-fil-A for lunch AND dinner? For free both times? That's BALLIN!" So my companion and I showed up at the Howe's right on schedule, met the family, and then sat around the table to enjoy some delicious bird!
It was a fairly elongated kitchen table. I remember Papa Howe sitting at one end of it and my companion sitting at the other. I took a seat in the middle of one side, and sitting directly across from me was Papa Howe's teenage daughter. I had nobody to my left or right on my side. Now before I go any farther for those of you that don't understand the rules about "girls" when you're on a mission it's very similar to the rules about girls when you're in prison. Sort of. Aside from a handshake, you can't touch em. There's no fratenizing, no dating, and no flirtatious exchanging of digits.
Ok, so back to the table. We were all shooting the breeze while I basically inhaled my chicken sandwich, when suddenly I felt someone's foot brush up against my leg. It started at my ankle and slowly worked it's way up to my knee. I promptly dropped my sandwich on my wrapper and looked directly across the table. The Howe girl was chattin it up with her brother, who if I recall correctly had some rad name... like Chip! Ya-ya... It was Chip! Anyways, she looked everything BUT guilty when it came to the leg graze so I passed it off as accidental and continued eating my sandwich.
Moments later I felt it again, this time it started at my knee and traveled down to my foot! This time I mumbled a subtle, "What the heck!? as I again dropped my sandwich and immediately began looking across the table. This time she was eating... casually... but still paying no attention to me. I looked at her brother sitting next her thinking maybe it was him doing it, just messing around, but he too looked not guilty. Confused, and still very hungry, I once again played it off as an accident and picked up my sandwich.
THEN... Not even 30 seconds later it starts to happen again! I couldn't take it anymore! I pushed my chair back from the table, stood up, threw both my hands out to the side, looked straight at her, and said, "OK FOR REAL... YOU GOTTA QUIT TOUCHING MY LEG!" My rather strange statement, and the fact that I was standing up whenI said it, abruptly drew the attention of Papa Howe. His eyes turned directly towards his daughter and the expression on his face was one of, "Are you seriously touching his leg?"
Suddenly, without warning, a cat leaped out from under the table and began slowly walking out of the kitchen. It looked directly at me as if to say, "GOT YOU!" There was a solid three or four seconds of awkward silence as me, my companion, and the entire Howe family put 2 and 2 together. We must have laughed for a half an hour about how I mistook the cat's tail for this girl's foot!
The moral of this story... CATS ARE GAY!!!!
Jul 11, 2011
Girl 1: Jenny
Awkward date title: Are you serious Clark???
Lesson learned: Opposites do NOT always attract.
Anytime you're a dude at college and you're single, and you like a girl at college, who is also single, and that girl says to you at anytime, "I really feel like you should ask my rommate out" it's NEVER a good sign. In my real world experience it means 1 of 2 things.
1) The girls roommate keeps all her rommates up at night venting about how guys never ask her out. She says all this as she buries her face in an organic chemistry textbook, and post her 5th status update of the day about how much she misses her cats at home. Or something like that.
2) The girl YOU LIKE has little to no interest IN YOU and is attempting to subtly pawn your attraction off to her roommate.
In the case of a girl named Jenny it was #1. I was "mildly" obsessed with a girl one semester named Hannah. We had a class together and admittedly I went out of my way every class period to say something to her. Eventually we became friends and I had some high hopes of winning her over. Just when I thought I might get that chance, however, she began venting to me one day about her roommate. She told me her roommate Jenny was constantly complaining about never being asked out. She said that Jenny would literally keep her up at night obsessing over guys but ending nearly every sentence with, "but he won't ask me out so what am I suppossed to do?"
Hannah went on to tell me that Jenny is "really fun" and "Scott I think you'd have a really good time if you took her out." At this point I had a decision to make. I could go ahead and take Jenny out once, in hopes that my "good deed" would score me some brownie points with Hannah, or I could politely tell Hannah that the "majoring in whining and complaining about never getting asked out while they spend 9 hours a day at the library" type of girls just weren't... well, they just weren't my type.
I chose to take my chances with the brownie points and went ahead and set up a date with Jenny. Thankfully, I could hardly classify it as a date. You see Jenny didn't have much time because she had to study. Classic. So I decided our "date" would be strolling down Main Street in Rexburg, Idaho so we could hit up the snow cone booth. So we did just that. I drove to her house, and we began walking towards the "Sno-Shack"... makers of the greatest shaved ice west of... campus??? Sure, whatever.
After 10 minutes of walking we took our places at the end of an enormous line of "couples" -- all hoping to win their dates over with $1.50 snow cones. By the time it was our turn to choose from one of like 37 flavors, I had already come to the conclusion that I had more in common with a whales uterus than I did with this girl. And I don't even have a uterus, so you do the math. I mean the girl told me she hated camping and fishing, never played sports, hated to watch sports, loved cats, enjoyed having a curfew, and wanted to be a music teacher. Things went from "zero to I wish i drove here so I could take her home faster" in like 10 minutes! One ridiculously large snow-cone, and 5 more minutes of awkwardness later, and we began the short journey back to her place. Needless to say, I never went out with Jenny again, and unfortunately Hannah had a boyfriend like a week later so apparently my brownie points theory back fired big time!
Girl 2: Michelle
Awkward date title: Wow, that's crazy!
Lesson learned: Choose your questions carefully
I took a girl named Michelle on a date once. It was our first date. We met at a dance. That was my mistake. I should've never been there. She lived on the opposite side of town and by that I mean I made sure to fill my tank up the night before. The date was thrown together fairly quickly but she was really anxious to go out and considering I found her highly attractive I didn't want to miss an opportunity. So not much was planned by the time I arrived to pick her up. I went in her house for a little bit, met her paps, and we tossed a few ideas back and forth about what we should do. After a few minutes I was surprised when she turned down a plethora of simple "get to know you style" ideas and chose to drive up near Payson, build a little fire, make smores, and tell jokes. I'm pretty sure I phrased it that way when I asked her too.
So we ventured up highway 87, but we never made it to Payson. Just our luck we chose the night they had a massive overnight construction project going on. We decided we didn't feel like waiting it out in traffic so we flipped a U-turn and looked for the first dirt road we could turn off on. We found one fairly quickly and I drove in a few hundred yards and we parked. We never made a fire and we never made smores. And no we didn't make a baby either, so you can stop thinking that's where this is going. Instead we just sat there and talked while we munched on "gas station" specials we snagged before leaving town. The conversation was honestly fun. She was a bit sarcastic at times which of course tickled my ear drums so I didn't mind just sitting there talking. The conversation remained fun... for about the first 20 minutes. Then, apparently I asked the wrong question. I don't remember exactly how I phrased it but it was something like, "So have you had very good luck with the dating scene out here in the East valley?"
Ladies and gentleman, anyone who knows me knows that I can talk the bark off a tree stump, and I am more than guilty of my fair share of incoherent rambling, but never in my life did I expect the 30 minutes following my question to unfold the way that they did! I wish I had her response tape recorded! I can't hardly recall a tenth of it. All I know is I must have said the phrase, "Wow, that's crazy!" 57 times in a half hour. She went off about being physically, sexually, and emotionally abused by previous boyfriends. She told me about how one of them punched her in the face and she had to get a restraining order against him. She continued on to tell me some of the craziest things I'd ever heard, and when she was basically done she looked at me and said the greatest line ever... "So you'd be ok with just taking things slow right?" My response? "Well, I'm not about to punch you in the face if that's what you're wondering!" Ya let's just say we didn't become freinds!
Girl 3: Emily
Awkward date title: Never actually happened
Lesson Learned: Stay out of the Library
This one's short and sweet because it never actually turned into a date. You see, not counting group projects I can count on one hand the times I entered the library during the 11 semester I attended BYU-Idaho. The library creeped me out. It was chuck full of uber awkward busniess majors preying on first semseter freshman girls. They'd try to be all sly but I had them figured out. They'd take a seat next to some hot young blonde, put there back pack full of business books on the table and make some sort of comment like, "Oh sorry if I shook the table, I just got so many business books I need to study tonight! I'm a business major in case you were wondering! What's your name?" Ok, so maybe it wasn't quite like that but it was close!
Well one night I found myself sitting next to a cute girl at a fairly large study table. She came up after me so trust me, I wasn't creeping on her! Over the next 45 minutes we chatted about a little bit of everything. I debated over and over again to ask her for her phone number, but I chickened out repeatedly! Eventually she started packing up her things and I decided I didn't need her number to ask her out. I could ask her out first and then get her number. So nay do I crap you, I asked her straight up if she wanted to go out some time. She responded with, "hmmmm, seriously?" I said, ya! Seriously!" She sort of chuckled, smiled at me, and said, "Maybe." Just then a guy walked u, held her around her waist and kissed her. Then I saw the ring on her finger, quietly packed up my things, and exited the library as quickly as I could, the whole time repeating over and over in my head, "What was all that "maybe" talk?" Gotta love the library!
Jul 8, 2011
The last one wouldn't let me embed the code but you've GOT to click on the link and watch it! HECKA-FUNNY!
Jul 7, 2011
The solution to the lack of Simpson's viewing in my home came in one of two forms. The first was to go downstairs and start watching it on the tv in the basement, closely paying attention for that distinct noise of "moms footsteps" coming down the stairs. Then quickly changing the channel to something else when you heard the equally distinct sound of the basement door opening.
The second solution was to cross your fingers and hope dad got home and started flipping through the channels before The Simpsons was over. This because he would usually start watching it if he saw that it was on. Of course even if dad turned it on it never took my mom more than a few seconds to start giving him a hard time about it. But then my dad would fire back with some witty wise crack like, "you know your mother doesn't like this show because I tell her she acts like Marge." It didn't matter how many times I heard him say that I laughed EVERY TIME! I did this NOT because I found it equally hilarious each time, but because I thought that laughing at his joke about The Simpsons would increase the chances that he'd keep it on that channel!
The earliest solution I can remember to the Nintendo shortage was to rent one. Weren't those the days??? Video Powerstore, not even a mile from the home I grew up in, would rent out Super Nintendos and Sega Genisis consoles. The only problem was my mom would only let us rent them like EVERY OTHER year on our birthdays. A far more convienant option was to have my cousin Bryan spend the night and bring his Super Nintendo with him.
Well one night when I was younger me, Bryan, and my little brother Russ were up late playing super nintendo and apparently we were being a little too loud. So my grandma who was visiting from Utah came down into the basement and gave us a couple of warnings. All of which we obeyed for only a matter of minutes before returning to our loud and obnoxious childhood antics! Well we collectively underestimated the seriousness of my Grandma's threat and next thing we knew she confiscated the controllers and took them upstairs with her!
Boy were we fired up! Well, I suppose I should say, "Boy was IIIIII fired up!" I guess I can't speak for Bryan or Russ, but I can assume they were just as upset! So as the three of us laid there talking smack about my grandma Russ and Bryan kept saying, "Dude, Bucky, go get the controllers!" I was hesitant at first but slowly began to develop a master plan to get the controllers back! After a couple of minutes and some fine tuning in my mind I ran my idea by Bryan and Russ who were suddenly reluctant to give their approval. I was confused... 5 minutes ago they were practically begging me to go get the controllers. This of course got me even more fired up, so I stood up and said something like, "Fine dude I'll get the controllers myself! Grandma's old, she's probably sleeping anyways, this is gonna be a piece of cake!"
So I stood up from the cushions that composed my bed for the night and began to creep towards the door that led to the upstairs. I was cautiously placing my feet between Bryan and Russ, when out of left field I heard MY GRANDMA'S VOICE only a few feet behind me... "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" I don't remember if I cursed or not while I simultaneously screamed and jumped a couple feet in the air, but either way it was scary! I mean where did she even come from??? How had she made it all the way down the stairs and positioned herself perfectly behind me without me noticing??? And why was she just sitting there ont he couch all creepy listening to me talk smack about her old age, and never say anything??? Needless to say we remained "controller-less" for the remainder of the night.
The moral of this story??? Never underestimate your Grandma!
Jul 3, 2011
It'd be difficult to describe it any other way when it's been chuck full of playing with my nieces and chillaxin with a couple old buddies that are still young at heart.
My niece Ruby "Cheeeeeesin it up"
“Beware the argument that because a person has strong drives toward a particular act, he has no power of choice and therefore no responsibility for his actions. This contention runs counter to the most fundamental premises of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“Satan would like us to believe that we are not responsible in this life. That is the result he tried to achieve by his contest in the pre-existence. A person who insists that he is not responsible for the exercise of his free agency because he was ‘born that way’ is trying to ignore the outcome of the War in Heaven. We are responsible, AND IF WE ARGUE OTHERWISE, OUR EFFORTS BECOME PART OF THE PROPOGANDA EFFORT OF THE ADVERSARY." (His words, my emphasis)
“Individual responsibility is a law of life. It applies in the law of man and the law of God. Society holds people responsible to control their impulses so we can live in a civilized society. God holds his children responsible to control their impulses in order that they can keep his commandments and realize their eternal destiny. The law does not excuse the short-tempered man who surrenders to his impulse to pull a trigger on his tormentor, or the greedy man who surrenders to his impulse to steal, or the pedophile who surrenders to his impulse to satisfy his sexual urges with children."
AMEN ELDER OAKS!
Jun 30, 2011
The first took place on a cool spring night in the thriving metropolis of Cochran, population 5,000. My two companions and I had a serious jones for some Taco Bell. As we pulled into the drive thru we were positioned behind two cars. The front car was obviously ordering food. The second car was a puke green white trash pinto that housed what looked to be one occupant. As we sat there discussing our individual orders, the passenger door of the vehicle in front of us suddenly opened. A small black kid, 5 years old at the most, began walking towards our vehicle. He was "holding himself" as if he was about to take a leak in his pants.
Rather than walking past our car though, the kid wedged himself between the front bumber of our car and the rear bumper of the car he just got out of. He was like a deer in the headlights, only he was little black kid that had to pee. The 3 of us started busting up laughing as he just stood there waiving at us with one hand and "pinching it off" with the other.
My companion noticed a bathroom attached to the outside of the building, but it quickly became apparent that the kid either didn't know it was there or didn't think he could make it there on time. So he did what any 5 year old would do in that situation. He dropped his pants and began to pee on the front bumper of our car! The most awkwardly amazing part? He continued to wave at us the entire time! I was in tears I was laughing so hard! Then, as quickly as he'd wedged himself between our cars, he returned to the passenger seat just in time for the driver to pull up and place an order. EPIC!
Now, for video. I will say two things about this before posting it. The first is the frog lived and we watched him hop away. The second is that you excuse the accent... I'd lived in South Georgia for a year and a half at this point!
Jun 29, 2011
The activity was at the institute building on Olive Ave. The dance was farther to the East on Olive at another building. Thus, somewhere around 9pm I began driving East on Olive. Just shy of 51st Ave I was detoured by police to a parking lot on the North side of the road, due to an accident at the intersection just ahead. I idled through the parking lot, with Pink Floyd blaring from the speakers, rubbernecking the entire way. I was the only car in the parking lot that was driving in any direction so i didn't worry about holding up traffic.
As I approached the edge of the parking lot I stopped about 20 feet short of the street. I had a perfect view of the intersection, and most of the accident. It looked horrible!! As I let my foot off the brake and began creeping towards the street I started looking to my left. That's the direction you look when you're about to make a right hand turn. You don't look right. I noticed 3 cars coming up the road to my left so I came to a complete stop and waited for them to pass. As soon as the last car went by me I took my foot off the brake and had barely tapped the gas when- SLAM! I whipped my head straight forward and found myself eye to eye with a cop.
I was speechless. Where did he come from? How did I not see him? Exactly how much trouble am I about to get in? I rolled down the window of my mom's car as the cop continued staring at me. Eventually he made his way to my window and much to my surprise he was almost laughing. He said, "Don't worry about your license or registration right now, this is crazy, I can't even believe this just happened."
I almost started laughing too, as I stepped out and said nervously, "wow, I seriously didn't even see you!" He laughed and said, "I guess this is what I get for driving on the wrong side of the road." I took a a quick look at his car that I had just T-boned and realized that he was indeed facing the wrong direction on the road. He looked at me and said he had his sirens flashing and was trying to take the quickest route into the parking lot. He explained that he'd been waiting for the same 3 cars I was waiting for and we both hit the gas at the same time.
We shot the breeze for a little bit as we waited for a supervisor to take the accident report. I made an incredibly uncomfortable phone call to my parents who were also able to arrive on scene and join in some casual conversation before someone finally took the accident report.
I felt like the biggest tool! Who hits a cop! But when I want to feel a little better about the whole thing I remind myself that he was driving on the wrong side of the road. So long story short, I was issued no ticket, but due to the fact that he's a cop and he had his sirens flashing it went down on my insurance as an at fault accident.
So the moral of this story??? DON'T GO TO INSTITUTE ACTIVITIES! Or do... it's cool!
Jun 28, 2011
One particular collared shirt stands out from the rest though. In 7th grade my mom hand picked this "pimp-esque" gem from somewhere down in our storage room and the results speak for themselves. Perhaps she was trying to take the attention away from my buck teeth. HA-HA!
Compare that to the picture below taken the same year.
Why couldn't that just be my school picture? That picture would have been so much easier to hand out to girls. I mean think about it that conversation... "Hey do you want this picture of me in an everyday outfit with a broken arm that I got from doing an everyday activity?" "Ya sure." Now compare that to the conversation that typically ensued when attempting to hand out my ACTUAL school picture from that year. "Hey do you want this picture of me in a horrendous shirt that my mom forced me to wear?" "Uhmmm... I don't know." "Oh come on... When people ask who I am you can just tell them I'm your pimp." HAHAHA!
This dental tragedy paved the way for my first nickname, "Bucky!" The name was taken directly from the star character of the nostalgic TV series, Bucky O'hare and the toad wars. See pics below...
Now I'd be lying to you if I told you that I immediately accepted my imperfection for what it was, and didn't let the comments that came with it bother me in anyway. I hated the nickname, and every negative thing that came with it. I hated that my older brother Clint would always tell me to "get a file Bucky, and file down those buck teeth." I hated the small army of friends and family that would bite their bottom lip with their two front teeth over and over in a "chomping" motion,kindly reminding me of my resemblance to a beaver.
I can recall one occasion rather vividly during a Sunday dinner in which my older brother Clint and I were exchanging words. My parents told us to stop fighting repeatedly but to little avail. I was boiling inside. I think Clint knew this, and went for the jugular. After my dad said, "I don't wanna hear another word out of either of you," Clint decided that the making the infamous chomping motion with his teeth was not considered talking. Perhaps it wasn't, but I'd had enough. I flipped my lid! I slammed both hands on the table, stood up and said, "SCREW YOU CLINT! QUIT MAKIN FUN OF MY TEETH! YOU WANNA FIGHT ME BRO?! FREEKIN BRING IT ON DUDE, I'M NOT SCARED OF YOU! I DARE YOU TO MAKE FUN OF MY TEETH AGAIN! I'LL FREAKIN JACK YOU UP DUDE!"
The fight never happened, and I quickly exited the kitchen making sure I was completely in my room with the door locked before letting the tears flow. I can't really tell you when I decided to stop caring about my beaver teeth and the never ending insults that accompanied them, but at some point I indeed stopped caring. Years later, my other permanent teeth began to grow larger, making the size of my two front teeth less noticeable. My nickname however, still stands. Mostly with family and close friends.
Whether or not I should have reacted the way I did to being ridiculed for something that was completely out of my control is obviously up for debate. Want to know what's not up for debate? Whether or not I really had buck teeth. The pics say it all.... YIKES!