After leaving the missionary training center and reporting to the great state of Georgia I was placed in the mid-sized southern town of Waycross. Home to the Okefenokee Swamp, some seriously "backwoods" moonshiners, and the Howe family. Papa Howe owned the Chick-fil-A at the center of town. Now when you're on an LDS missionary and somebody tells you that there is a place you can eat for free whenever you want you get pretty giddy. When that same someone tells you that the place you can eat for free is Chick-fil-A it makes you want to hug a stranger and say, "I wish we'd known each other, this is a little awkward." At least that's what it made me want to do.
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!!!!
On April 28th, 2012 I married the sweetest, most BEAUTIFUL woman I have ever met! She means the world to me! She has 2 of the wittiest, fun-filled kids a step-father could ever have the privelage of knowing! TOGETHER WE ARE HAPPY! TOGETHER WE ARE FAMILY!
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 11, 2011
The Dating Trifecta
3 girls (3 changed names), 3 awkward dates, and 3 lessons learned.
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!
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 7, 2011
"Bucky, go get the controllers!"
As a kid my mother was the most loving person I knew. Still is actually. But I vividly remember there were 2 things that my mother absolutely LOATHED, without exception. She basically considered them the devil in animated and objective form. The first was any sort of Nintendo, and the second was The Simpsons. Ironically she loved soap operas, which I can't see scoring much higher than The Simpsons on the "classy" scale, but whatever.
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!
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!
Jun 21, 2011
Homemade Failure
A number of years ago, in the prime of my adolescence, I fell for a fireball named Nicole Dawson. For years I drooled over this hot commodity. I watched her go in and out of relationships, always wondering If I'd ever get my chance. Whenever she had a boyfriend I would try to spend as much time at her house as possible, making sure she wouldn't forget that I was around. Ha ha.
Whenever she was single I spent a ridiculous amount of time and effort discovering new ways to impress her. One year in high school I heard she was giving up cheerleading to be the mascot. Then I heard there was gonna be 2 mascots. I decided I would try out also because hey, if we were both mascots what more do you need right? I mean realistically who can resist a guy in a sweaty mountain lion costume that spends his Friday nights entertaining fans and geting screamed at by cheerleaders for "being in the way."
So the day of try-outs came and I was nervous. When they told us we'd be performing one at a time in front of the 2 cheer coaches without any other contestants watching, I was a little LESS nervous. Nicole was one of the first to try out. I knew she would make it. How did I know? She rented a sumo suit and did a dance performance to "She's a Brick House." She locked down the first spot. Only moments later it was my turn. I had no costume but I had a prop. I thought it might help. It was a cardboard cut out in the form of a person. I told the coaches it was a "cheerleader." I hesitate to say I remember much of what happened during my 60 seconds of fame but you really only need to know 4 things.
1) I brought my sisters Mariah Carey CD with me.
2) I threw the cardboard cheerleader around like a rag doll.
3) I ended my routine with a backflip.
4) I GOT THE JOB!
Was beign the mascot everything I ever dreamed it would be? Sure it was. Did being the Mascot get me any closer to dating my dream girl? NOPE! Did it stop me from trying? Not at all.
One day I decided I would impress Nicole with what I thought was her favorite dessert. A cherry pie. Now at the time, I assumed she would also like a guy that cooked for her. So I ruled out the frozen store-bought option, and went for the impossible. I was going to bake her a pie from scratch. You better believe I rode my bike to Safeway and picked up all the necessary ingredients. I spent a couple hours in the kitchen and Wa-la! I had my masterpiece! It smelled AMAZING! I was so pumped! Who could resist this? By that I mean, who could resist me, after doing this? She couldn't possibly pass me up.
The Dawsons lived about a half mile away and I didn't want to walk that far, so I decided I would ride my bike at a slow speed. I would hold the pie in one hand and use the other hand to steer my bike. I think you know where this is going. I made it all the way to her driveway, but just as I went to steer my bike up the sloped curb, my front tire (that was kinda flat) turned sideways. This caused the back end of the bike to elevate, sending both me, and my homemade masterpiece flying onto the driveway. Well, let me take that back. The pie landed on their bright red mustang, then fell to the driveway.
I WAS DEVESTATED! I remember laying flat on my back on the driveway wondering how this could have happened. I mumbled over and over again, "Why me? Why now?" I spent the next few minutes scraping as much of the pie off their car, and off their driveway as I could, placing it back into the pan. Then I thought, "Ok, so do I go home and just pretend like I didn't even try, or do I milk the sympathy cow for all it's worth." I went the sympathyy route and rang the doorbell hoping Nicole would answer and I could melt her heart with my sob story. Well, it didn't work out quite like I planned. Her mom answered the door and I decided to give her my sob story instead. Thankfully, being one of the nicest people on the planet, she was incredibly sympathetic! She let me wash my hands and clean up the road rash on my arms. However, Nicole never got her fresh cherry pie, and I never got my adolescent dream girl.
The moral of this story??? ALWAYS PUMP UP YOUR BIKE TIRES!!!!
Whenever she was single I spent a ridiculous amount of time and effort discovering new ways to impress her. One year in high school I heard she was giving up cheerleading to be the mascot. Then I heard there was gonna be 2 mascots. I decided I would try out also because hey, if we were both mascots what more do you need right? I mean realistically who can resist a guy in a sweaty mountain lion costume that spends his Friday nights entertaining fans and geting screamed at by cheerleaders for "being in the way."
So the day of try-outs came and I was nervous. When they told us we'd be performing one at a time in front of the 2 cheer coaches without any other contestants watching, I was a little LESS nervous. Nicole was one of the first to try out. I knew she would make it. How did I know? She rented a sumo suit and did a dance performance to "She's a Brick House." She locked down the first spot. Only moments later it was my turn. I had no costume but I had a prop. I thought it might help. It was a cardboard cut out in the form of a person. I told the coaches it was a "cheerleader." I hesitate to say I remember much of what happened during my 60 seconds of fame but you really only need to know 4 things.
1) I brought my sisters Mariah Carey CD with me.
2) I threw the cardboard cheerleader around like a rag doll.
3) I ended my routine with a backflip.
4) I GOT THE JOB!
Was beign the mascot everything I ever dreamed it would be? Sure it was. Did being the Mascot get me any closer to dating my dream girl? NOPE! Did it stop me from trying? Not at all.
One day I decided I would impress Nicole with what I thought was her favorite dessert. A cherry pie. Now at the time, I assumed she would also like a guy that cooked for her. So I ruled out the frozen store-bought option, and went for the impossible. I was going to bake her a pie from scratch. You better believe I rode my bike to Safeway and picked up all the necessary ingredients. I spent a couple hours in the kitchen and Wa-la! I had my masterpiece! It smelled AMAZING! I was so pumped! Who could resist this? By that I mean, who could resist me, after doing this? She couldn't possibly pass me up.
The Dawsons lived about a half mile away and I didn't want to walk that far, so I decided I would ride my bike at a slow speed. I would hold the pie in one hand and use the other hand to steer my bike. I think you know where this is going. I made it all the way to her driveway, but just as I went to steer my bike up the sloped curb, my front tire (that was kinda flat) turned sideways. This caused the back end of the bike to elevate, sending both me, and my homemade masterpiece flying onto the driveway. Well, let me take that back. The pie landed on their bright red mustang, then fell to the driveway.
I WAS DEVESTATED! I remember laying flat on my back on the driveway wondering how this could have happened. I mumbled over and over again, "Why me? Why now?" I spent the next few minutes scraping as much of the pie off their car, and off their driveway as I could, placing it back into the pan. Then I thought, "Ok, so do I go home and just pretend like I didn't even try, or do I milk the sympathy cow for all it's worth." I went the sympathyy route and rang the doorbell hoping Nicole would answer and I could melt her heart with my sob story. Well, it didn't work out quite like I planned. Her mom answered the door and I decided to give her my sob story instead. Thankfully, being one of the nicest people on the planet, she was incredibly sympathetic! She let me wash my hands and clean up the road rash on my arms. However, Nicole never got her fresh cherry pie, and I never got my adolescent dream girl.
The moral of this story??? ALWAYS PUMP UP YOUR BIKE TIRES!!!!
Jun 10, 2011
Sometimes You Gotta Look Back and Laugh
**CAUTION** If you are offended or grossed out by farting you probably won't be a big fan of this story. So don't read it.
As I've mentioned in a couple previous entries, my little brother Russ and I shared a room for quite some time growing up. During that time we found various ways to entertain ourselves. Sometimes we connected a few pieces of flimsy race car track, placed one end under the mattress and tucked the other end into the top drawer of our dresser, allowing the middle of the track to sag down a couple feet. Then we'd each grab a small car, place them on opposite ends of the track, and let them go. They would collide in the middle and more often than not one of the cars would fly off the track. The winning car would move on to the next round. It might sound silly, but to a couple of boys that had to share a room it made for some fun times.
However, not everything we did to entertain ourselves was so harmless. One night, Russ and I were up late laughing about anything and everything. It was just one of those nights. I happened to have a bad case of the farts too. Which had us laughing even harder. I don't know how or why all of the events of that night unfolded but at some point I thought it would be funny to take the lid off of a Snapple bottle and try to “bottle my fart.” So I did it. I remember laughing so hard before and after, I was crying. Russ was too. I placed the Snapple bottle on our dresser and we wondered if it would still smell the next day.
Fast forward to the next morning. My mom came in the room and turned on the light to wake us up. I of course immediately thought of the bottle on the dresser. I said something to my mom like, “Mom you see that glass bottle on the dresser? I don't know what the inside of it smells like but it smells funny. I can't pin point it. It's weird, you should smell it!” I saw Russ duck under his covers, I assume so my mom wouldn't see him trying so hard not to laugh. It took a little more convincing, but eventually my mom took the bottle off the dresser, removed the lid, and took a big whiff. I cannot tell you exactly what she said but I can tell you that Russ and I have spent the last 15 years or so laughing about it!!!!
The moral of the story? If you're gonna fart in a jar, at least keep it to yourself. I still feel bad about conning my mom into smelling it, but DANG was it hilarious!!
As I've mentioned in a couple previous entries, my little brother Russ and I shared a room for quite some time growing up. During that time we found various ways to entertain ourselves. Sometimes we connected a few pieces of flimsy race car track, placed one end under the mattress and tucked the other end into the top drawer of our dresser, allowing the middle of the track to sag down a couple feet. Then we'd each grab a small car, place them on opposite ends of the track, and let them go. They would collide in the middle and more often than not one of the cars would fly off the track. The winning car would move on to the next round. It might sound silly, but to a couple of boys that had to share a room it made for some fun times.
However, not everything we did to entertain ourselves was so harmless. One night, Russ and I were up late laughing about anything and everything. It was just one of those nights. I happened to have a bad case of the farts too. Which had us laughing even harder. I don't know how or why all of the events of that night unfolded but at some point I thought it would be funny to take the lid off of a Snapple bottle and try to “bottle my fart.” So I did it. I remember laughing so hard before and after, I was crying. Russ was too. I placed the Snapple bottle on our dresser and we wondered if it would still smell the next day.
Fast forward to the next morning. My mom came in the room and turned on the light to wake us up. I of course immediately thought of the bottle on the dresser. I said something to my mom like, “Mom you see that glass bottle on the dresser? I don't know what the inside of it smells like but it smells funny. I can't pin point it. It's weird, you should smell it!” I saw Russ duck under his covers, I assume so my mom wouldn't see him trying so hard not to laugh. It took a little more convincing, but eventually my mom took the bottle off the dresser, removed the lid, and took a big whiff. I cannot tell you exactly what she said but I can tell you that Russ and I have spent the last 15 years or so laughing about it!!!!
The moral of the story? If you're gonna fart in a jar, at least keep it to yourself. I still feel bad about conning my mom into smelling it, but DANG was it hilarious!!
Jun 3, 2011
I Should Really Pay Attention...
A number of years ago I would occasionally baby sit Andy and Kurt Haws. Far from a monumental tasks, as Andy spent most of his time watching tv and Kurt shared his time between playing with Andy, and playing with Barbies. Never did understand the latter half of that.
On one particular Friday night, Lindy Haws, the mother in the family, was running through the typical pre-babysitting routine while I sat at the kitchen table paying little to no attention to what she was saying. I figured it was the same thing she always said just before she and her husband took off for the night. Something like, "Ok, Scott, here's some phone numbers in case there's an emergency, here's where we're gonna be, we should be home around 11, yada yada yada, make yourself at home and eat anything you can find, yada yada yada. I don't remember hearing anyting out of the ordinary on that night.
So fast forward a couple hours, Kurt and Andy are both asleep, and I'm developing a SERIOUS case of the munchies. So I wandered into the kitchen, rummaged through the pantry, opened and closed the fridge like 15 times, and finally decided I'd indulge myself in the red velvet cake that was resting on the stove top. It was practically beckoning to me to have a taste. So I did just that. Only I had more than a taste. I ate like half the cake. It was DIVINE! Beyond it's magnificent taste however, I didn't think much about what I'd just done.
Fast forward about a month. I'm beginning to wonder why Lindy hasn't asked me to babysit again. It's Sunday and I see Andy in the hallway at church. I asked him if they got a new babysitter and he told me yes, but I don't remember if I knew who it was or not. In fact I don't remember much of our conversation other than being told one vital piece of information. His mom was really upset that I ate the cake. Apparently it was for something special and during her typical routine before leaving, I'd missed the "Don't eat the cake on the stove top" memo.
Whoops... My bad!
On one particular Friday night, Lindy Haws, the mother in the family, was running through the typical pre-babysitting routine while I sat at the kitchen table paying little to no attention to what she was saying. I figured it was the same thing she always said just before she and her husband took off for the night. Something like, "Ok, Scott, here's some phone numbers in case there's an emergency, here's where we're gonna be, we should be home around 11, yada yada yada, make yourself at home and eat anything you can find, yada yada yada. I don't remember hearing anyting out of the ordinary on that night.
So fast forward a couple hours, Kurt and Andy are both asleep, and I'm developing a SERIOUS case of the munchies. So I wandered into the kitchen, rummaged through the pantry, opened and closed the fridge like 15 times, and finally decided I'd indulge myself in the red velvet cake that was resting on the stove top. It was practically beckoning to me to have a taste. So I did just that. Only I had more than a taste. I ate like half the cake. It was DIVINE! Beyond it's magnificent taste however, I didn't think much about what I'd just done.
Fast forward about a month. I'm beginning to wonder why Lindy hasn't asked me to babysit again. It's Sunday and I see Andy in the hallway at church. I asked him if they got a new babysitter and he told me yes, but I don't remember if I knew who it was or not. In fact I don't remember much of our conversation other than being told one vital piece of information. His mom was really upset that I ate the cake. Apparently it was for something special and during her typical routine before leaving, I'd missed the "Don't eat the cake on the stove top" memo.
Whoops... My bad!
Jun 2, 2011
"Look bro... I'm Sorry..."
The following story took place during my church mission to southern Georgia. More specifically it took place just before Christmas in 2004, inside of a Dairy Queen, on the outskirts of a small town called Gray.
Me and my companion, Elder Crookston, were riding our bikes home down highway 20 around 9 pm when we decided to make a pit stop at Dairy Queen. The pit stop wasn't for food though. You see Crookston had to drop the deuce and decided he couldn't wait 5 minutes til we got home. So we locked up our bikes up, took off our nerdy helmets and went inside. Seeing as how I didn't even need to go to the bathroom perhaps I should've avoided the area completely, but I decided I'd just go in and wash my hands.
Now you'll have to do your best to visualize this but the bathroom was set up (from left to right) sink, urinal, stall. Crookston was already in the stall reeking things up by the time I walked in to wash my hands. Well, no sooner had I turned on the sink than the door to the bathroom opens, and in walks, or should I say stumbles, a very large, very drunk, and very scary looking man. I didn't think much of it other than he was twice my size, I could smell the alcohol on him, and he looked like he was ready to kill somebody. So I guess just the obvious. haha.
So the drunk guy starts to take a leak at the urinal just to the right of the sink I'm standing at, and just to the left of the stall my companion is sitting in. Just keep that in mind. When I was done washing my hands I began looking at the paper towel dispensener attempting to figure out how to ACTUALLY get paper towells to come out of it. Then I noticed a sign that said "Wave hand in front of sensor to dispense paper towels." This was the first time I'd seen one of these things. So I did what the sign told me to do and began shaking both my hands in front of what I thought was the sensor. Suddenly, a paper towel roll began to emerge from the bottom of the dispenser about a foot at a time. I'm not gonna lie, I was fascinated.
I continued to shake my hands back and forth until I had about 4 feet of paper towels to work with. Then, just as I tore off the last strip, the drunk guy standing just a couple feet to my right screams out, "Hey, what the hell's your problem man?" This was the remainder of our conversation as I started drying my hands with a rather confused look on my face...
Me: "Uhmmm nothing, just drying my hands."
Drunk Man: "No you're not!"
Me: "I don't understand, yes I am."
Drunk man: "You're F*&#@* % throwing water on me!"
Me: (Pausing for a moment to try and figure out what he's talking about) "When did I throw water on you?)
Drunk Man: (Still taking a leak just a few feet away) "Don't play stupid, m***** f*****, you just threw water all over my face!"
I paused yet again and then suddenly realized that while shaking my hands back and forth in front of the paper towel dispenser I had accidentally flicked water on his face. The conversation continued as follows...
Me: (Sort of chuckling) "Oh wow! Man, I'm sorry, I was just trying to get the paper towels to come out, I didn't even know I was getting water on you. That's my bad."
Drunk man: "It ain't funny B****! Don't laugh!"
Me: (Now getting a little bit nervous and a little bit angry at the same time) "Look Bro, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it. Just relax!"
Drunk Man: "Why you still laughing?"
Me: (Now leaning more towards the angry side) "I'm not laughing!"
Drunk man: "You think it's funny?"
Me: "Not at all!"
Drunk Man: "How'd you like it if I just turned around right now and started pissing all over your shoes?! You wouldn't be laughing so hard then would you?!"
Me: "Bro, I'm not laughing anymore, and I already apologized. It was an accident! You need to calm down!"
Drunk Man: "Ya well F*** you!"
At this point I'm thinking, man I'd love to knock this drunk punk out, leave him laying in the bathroom, and tell a Dairy Queen employee he passed out. But considering I was sporting a missionary name tag I concluded that it probably wasn't the best "career move." So instead I walked out into the hallway, stood against the wall, and waited for Elder Crookston to finish taking a dump. Then, almost immediately, I thought to myself, "Wow, Elder Crookston heard that entire conversation but couldn't see a thing because he was inside the stall." hahaha. I started laughing out loud to myself thinking of how awkward all of that must have sounded to him. Well about a minute later Crookston walked out with a confused look on his face, and a few feet behind him was the drunk guy. The drunk guy nudged Elder Crookston out of the way and walked quickly past both of us, staring me down the whole way, before exiting out the front doors.
Crookston promptly asked me, "What in the world was that all about?" I responded, "I don't know man. I accidentally flicked water on the guy and next thing I know he's cussing up a storm and he wants to fight me!" Crookston started laughing and said, "Man, I was sitting there going taking a dump thinking to myself, geez if Sorensen gets in a fight he's on his own, I'm a little pre-occupied." We both started busting up laughing as we walked outside, unlocked our bikes, and started the short ride home.
The moral of this story??? When using a motion activated paper towel dispenser, do your best to make sure the people within "water flicking" distance are sober/and or not ready to fight you!
The End!
Me and my companion, Elder Crookston, were riding our bikes home down highway 20 around 9 pm when we decided to make a pit stop at Dairy Queen. The pit stop wasn't for food though. You see Crookston had to drop the deuce and decided he couldn't wait 5 minutes til we got home. So we locked up our bikes up, took off our nerdy helmets and went inside. Seeing as how I didn't even need to go to the bathroom perhaps I should've avoided the area completely, but I decided I'd just go in and wash my hands.
Now you'll have to do your best to visualize this but the bathroom was set up (from left to right) sink, urinal, stall. Crookston was already in the stall reeking things up by the time I walked in to wash my hands. Well, no sooner had I turned on the sink than the door to the bathroom opens, and in walks, or should I say stumbles, a very large, very drunk, and very scary looking man. I didn't think much of it other than he was twice my size, I could smell the alcohol on him, and he looked like he was ready to kill somebody. So I guess just the obvious. haha.
So the drunk guy starts to take a leak at the urinal just to the right of the sink I'm standing at, and just to the left of the stall my companion is sitting in. Just keep that in mind. When I was done washing my hands I began looking at the paper towel dispensener attempting to figure out how to ACTUALLY get paper towells to come out of it. Then I noticed a sign that said "Wave hand in front of sensor to dispense paper towels." This was the first time I'd seen one of these things. So I did what the sign told me to do and began shaking both my hands in front of what I thought was the sensor. Suddenly, a paper towel roll began to emerge from the bottom of the dispenser about a foot at a time. I'm not gonna lie, I was fascinated.
I continued to shake my hands back and forth until I had about 4 feet of paper towels to work with. Then, just as I tore off the last strip, the drunk guy standing just a couple feet to my right screams out, "Hey, what the hell's your problem man?" This was the remainder of our conversation as I started drying my hands with a rather confused look on my face...
Me: "Uhmmm nothing, just drying my hands."
Drunk Man: "No you're not!"
Me: "I don't understand, yes I am."
Drunk man: "You're F*&#@* % throwing water on me!"
Me: (Pausing for a moment to try and figure out what he's talking about) "When did I throw water on you?)
Drunk Man: (Still taking a leak just a few feet away) "Don't play stupid, m***** f*****, you just threw water all over my face!"
I paused yet again and then suddenly realized that while shaking my hands back and forth in front of the paper towel dispenser I had accidentally flicked water on his face. The conversation continued as follows...
Me: (Sort of chuckling) "Oh wow! Man, I'm sorry, I was just trying to get the paper towels to come out, I didn't even know I was getting water on you. That's my bad."
Drunk man: "It ain't funny B****! Don't laugh!"
Me: (Now getting a little bit nervous and a little bit angry at the same time) "Look Bro, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it. Just relax!"
Drunk Man: "Why you still laughing?"
Me: (Now leaning more towards the angry side) "I'm not laughing!"
Drunk man: "You think it's funny?"
Me: "Not at all!"
Drunk Man: "How'd you like it if I just turned around right now and started pissing all over your shoes?! You wouldn't be laughing so hard then would you?!"
Me: "Bro, I'm not laughing anymore, and I already apologized. It was an accident! You need to calm down!"
Drunk Man: "Ya well F*** you!"
At this point I'm thinking, man I'd love to knock this drunk punk out, leave him laying in the bathroom, and tell a Dairy Queen employee he passed out. But considering I was sporting a missionary name tag I concluded that it probably wasn't the best "career move." So instead I walked out into the hallway, stood against the wall, and waited for Elder Crookston to finish taking a dump. Then, almost immediately, I thought to myself, "Wow, Elder Crookston heard that entire conversation but couldn't see a thing because he was inside the stall." hahaha. I started laughing out loud to myself thinking of how awkward all of that must have sounded to him. Well about a minute later Crookston walked out with a confused look on his face, and a few feet behind him was the drunk guy. The drunk guy nudged Elder Crookston out of the way and walked quickly past both of us, staring me down the whole way, before exiting out the front doors.
Crookston promptly asked me, "What in the world was that all about?" I responded, "I don't know man. I accidentally flicked water on the guy and next thing I know he's cussing up a storm and he wants to fight me!" Crookston started laughing and said, "Man, I was sitting there going taking a dump thinking to myself, geez if Sorensen gets in a fight he's on his own, I'm a little pre-occupied." We both started busting up laughing as we walked outside, unlocked our bikes, and started the short ride home.
The moral of this story??? When using a motion activated paper towel dispenser, do your best to make sure the people within "water flicking" distance are sober/and or not ready to fight you!
The End!
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