Christmas Card 2008

Choose either of these holiday greetings:


MERRY CHRISTMAS, FROM ME AND MINE TO YOU AND YOURS.

or



MERRY CHRISTMAS, FROM MY HOUSE TO YOUR HOUSE.

10. One For The Team - Build It Up

Sunshine.

That isn't my word to describe this album, but it is a word that I stole to describe this album. I was thinking sugary or something sweet like that, but it didn't feel right. Besides, I can see myself resorting to that word in one of the upcoming albums as I the older I get the more I like poppy, catchy tunes.

So, 'sunshine' totally fits, but not as well as 'onslaught of sunshine' fits. Also, 'build it up' doesn't really fit because this album starts already built up and never really ceases, decreases or grows (because it is already at the level of the sun, and it would be Tower of Babel-ish to think anything could go higher than that).

Good for them, One For the Team sought me out. More than a year ago, they asked me to be theirs on myspace. Sometimes I accept bands with the intent to check them out later, other times I deny them so that there is no false expectations. I did the former with one for the team. After some time has passed, they were in danger of getting axed on account of posting too many bulletins (which they still do). The day of reckoning came, but before I erased them from my life, I gave them a listen and realized that their music was exactly what I was in the mood for that day. Before long, I had puchased their album off iTunes, and here we are: me cyber-handing them a cyber trophy in cyberville.

At first, they reminded me of Tilly and the Wall without annoying songs like most TatW songs (note: when Tilly and the Wall isn't annoying, they tend to be wonderful). I guess that still holds true as there are some definite similarities, but to merely classify them as a Tilly rip-off wouldn't be quite right. They seem to be a little bit less polished than Tilly and the Wall and a little more interesting. And boy singer-girl singer instead of girl singer-girl singer. I could also see One For The Team coming up with some super non-Tilly and the Wall-esque stuff on their subsequent albums.

The album starts right off with the catchy track, 'Apples' which is also the best song on the album. But don't take my word for it....

and I'll wear glass shoes and plastic wrap, no I'll just wear my insides. You want to know who I really am? Yeah, so do I.

2008 is about to become 2009, but the old year will not turn into the new one without a fight.....and a top 10 album list. I decided to do this earlier this week (or possibly later last week) and realized I couldn't think of any albums that came out in oh-eight. I finally remembered some, and they automatically made a home towards the top of this list (due to memorability, maybe). I then went through my entire iTunes list and tried to remember which of the albums I had were released in this, the year of our Lord 2008. I was able to come up with a list of about 16 good albums. Unfortunately, I didn't know a lot of those albums too well because they haven't been in heavy rotation on my Pod. See, 2008 wasn't really anybody's best year. Well, maybe it was Jim Noir's (and mine [read: engagement]), but by the time I finally figured out how to download that album, the summer was over and I think Jim Noir had a place in the summery part of my heart and I never let him into the autumn part of my life. Alas, he did not make my top 10 this year. Chalk it up to bad timing. He's great, though.

So, on with the list....

This first one would have been ranked higher, but I didn't know if it counted and I had 10 really good options. So, I will use this as the teaser to the rest of the list. This album is like showing a little leg on the side of the highway. It's a smart move, I say, to show some of your better work, but saving THE best for the end. Not that the early part of the list has anything that you wouldn't stop and pick up should you see it hitchhiking.

Anyway....

Saves the Day - The Bug Sessions.

I like Saves the Day almost as much as I like any band. But, I wonder if I like them for different reasons than everyone else who likes them. See, I think their greatest accomplishment was the 'In Reverie' album, but I was reading a few months ago that it was a huge disappointment. Huh. I guess most fans like them to be a borderline hardcore band, which I also enjoy, but the songs on 'In Reverie' are incredible. The band has a tendency to change their style between albums (and surprisingly, it always works for me), and I keep hoping for another album like that one.

'The Bug Sessions' is a nice collection of acoustic Saves the Day songs. The interesting-slash-perplexing thing about this album is that none of the acoustic versions exceed the originals. Normally, the great thing about an acoustic album is a few of the versions provide a new spin on songs that sometimes make them better than the orginals. Not here, though, but it's totally fine. The acoustic versions herein are still great. No less than a minute later, and I am taking that statement back. 'My Sweet Fracture' is better acoustically than it was on the 'Through Being Cool' album. 'Freakish' comes the next closest and I bet that if 'Nightengale' was included, the acoustic version would top the normal version. I also would have liked to hear what 'Anywhere With You' and 'Tomorrow Too Late' sound like (hopefully, there will be a The Bug Sessions, vol.2).

Tidbit: Saves the Day's singer, Chris Conley, influenced me as a writer. On the band's old website, there was a section where he would just type stuff. And I mean 'just type stuff' that popped into his head. I had never seen it done like that back in 2004, and I couldn't get enough. I don't know that I have implemented that style, but it made something click in my head and seeing such a personalized style interested me more in writing than anything had. He also writes weird/cool/possibly disturbing lyrics like the blog title and: "I know blue eyes get boring, but I'll wear dark glasses all the time. And if you want me to, I'll take a knife to my bright eyes."

This album/collection would have probably rated in the top five, but I decided to keep it out of the official top 10 because it isn't a new recording. But don't take my word for it........



(this isn't really from the album)

Albums considered that didn't quite make the cut:
Jim Noir - 'Jim Noir'
People Under the Stairs - 'Fun DMC'
Giant Panda - 'Electric Laser'
Little Brother - '...And Justus For All'
Siah and Yeshua dapoED - 'The Visualz Anthology'

Also, I haven't heard the new Ben Folds album, but it likely would have garnered a ranking.

Thanks for the free breakfast

but please salt your scrambled eggs when I come around.

Nothing I say leaves this room, so don't leave because you might miss what I have to say

This blog (The Blog of the People) is mired in a rut of not being posted on.

Partly, it is because being engaged and being subject to the most difficult semester possible makes it hard to exhibit quality on this blog. One thing I said when I first took over this blog is that I would never let myself get to the point where I allowed lack of quality or inequality find a home at You Know How I Do. I refuse. It just isn't worth the effort if the things on the blog show a lack of effort. I care too much about my work and my readers to put drop blog material that is far below what I expect them to expect when they read You Know How I Do. So, if I'm too busy to bring the Q, then I am too busy to even bother. You know? (how I do)

The other part is that I ran out of stuff to talk about about. Repeat everything I wrote about quality here.

School is almost over, then the comeback will be on.

If my fingers clinch too tightly, it's because I'm afraid I'll lose my grip. If I think about you nightly, it's because I'm afraid I might forget

You know how sometimes bands will do that thing where the end of one track on an album will lead into another? I think it has never been done better than this:


The Impossibles from 4 Song Brick Bomb:
1) "Disintegration (Is The Best Album, Ever)"
2) "Get It + Got It = Good"

The second best execution is the Tuesday songs "So Awake" and "Too Much of Today" from their only full-length album, Freewheelin' (one of the best albums, ever). I'll warn you, these videos have no movement and the first song is but an instrumental - but it is so good it will make you go mental (trust a guy who usually doesn't like instrumentals).



Note: maybe things have improved, but iPods make putting these songs on mixdiscs tough because they have about a second break in between tracks.

I just want to fill you with regret

Midtown's "Forget What You Know" goes down as one of my favorites.

Coolest football coach----->Giving Hams----->Dating tips

Wikipedia:

"During his post-game press conference after the 2007 game against Texas, Leach used most of his time to rail against the officiating crew for what he felt were bad calls.[8][9] He speculated that the officials may have favored Texas because the head official lives in Austin, because they are incompetent, or possibly because the conference wants Texas to appear in a BCS bowl because of the increased appearance fees that such a bowl generates for the conference.[10][11] Jim Vertuno of the Associated Press wrote "Leach was upset officials disallowed two Tech touchdowns in the third quarter. The first was overruled when video replay clearly showed the receiver let the ball hit the ground. On the next play, a touchdown pass was negated by a holding penalty. Leach also wanted, but didn't get, a flag for roughing the quarterback."[11][12] The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal reported, "Big 12 policy prohibits coaches from commenting publicly about game officials, so Leach's actions leave him open to reprimand, fine or worse."[9] ESPN reported, "Big 12 official spokesman Bob Burda did not immediately respond to telephone messages seeking comment. Leach's rant will likely draw a fine from the league and possibly a suspension."[13]

On November 13, 2007, the Big 12 fined Leach $10,000, the largest fine in Big 12 history.[14] Leach also received a reprimand and was warned that further violations could result in suspension.[15] In a Big 12 coaches' conference call that day, Leach added that he does not regret making any of the comments.[16] Leach announced that he would appeal the fine.[17] Tech alumni and fans began raising money to aid Leach in paying the penalty in the event that it was upheld. Optionally, the proceeds raised could be used charitably.[18] So, just before Christmas 2008, Leach requested that the nearly $5,000 raised to that point be spent on 400 hams to be given free to families in Lubbock. Future donations were to go to the university or athletic department.[19] Following the 2008 Gator Bowl, in which Virginia scored twice on penalties against Tech for intentional grounding in the end zone, Leach joked, "I felt like we had a back there on the one safety, but I don't comment on officiating. I just give out hams is what I do."[20]"

On Dating

David Letterman, Rolling Stone (18 September 2008)

"The Hills show I knew nothing about. When we were going to have them, I started watching the show — I don't know how many of them you've seen, but pretty soon your jaw goes slack, and you realize that something very strange is happening."

Judy, did you have the best year of your life?

You Know How I Do is two. For the next 24 hours, this blog will unofficially be known as You Know How I Two.

Year one
Year two

Numbers-
Year one: 77 blogs dropped
Year two: 67 blogs dropped(not counting this here)

Since two years in blog years is a lot, I offer you this line by Talib Kweli from the Little Brother song 'Grown Man':
"A grown ass man, I stopped dressin like a teenager."

One more thing: Three more outs and the Red Sox are gone. I can't think of a better way to celebrate this holy birthday than with their season ending.

The bad thing about being on auto-pilot is I am not a plane

I fancy myself an indivual -- a person who doesn't spend his days merely following the masses where'er they may go -- just like everyone else in the world. Well maybe really cool people admit they follow sometimes, but I'm not quite ready to admit that I am that cool yet.

I have been working on something lately, though, that betrays my sense of individuality. See, I've noticed that when I am a leader of a line at a stop light, I wait for somebody else to make the first move when our light turns green. It's almost like I don't believe my eyes.

Eyes: "It's green."
Me: "Maybe. Let's verify."
Eyes: "You're a pansiotic moron."
Me: "Better safe than sorry."
Eyes: "Hey, Idiot, what bad is going to happen when you follow the most basic rule of driving: green means go?"
Me: "You make a good arguement."
Eyes: "Never do it again."

But I always do it again. Mine eyes never betray me, but I constantly betray mine eyes.

Yes, this might be mostly some kind of Post-traumatic syndrome, but I think it is a bigger issue. I've become a coaster. To an extent, I have figured out how to just show up to life and survive. Instead of learning things, I merely learn how to do them.

Example one (of many): In school, I have this class that requires me to make graphs and compare means based on information. I'm great at performing these functions, but when it came time to take a test on them last week, I had no idea how to translate my outputs into an answer.

Example two (of many):For work at my new job, I have had to learn stuff on a computer. We got a new system last week, and not knowing exact things from the last program have made learning the new one difficult. Someone will say, "Oh, that's just like ______ was in the old one." This is just confusing to me. Luckily, the new system breaks down a lot (they've been called 'hiccups'), so I have had a lot of time to do things like drop his blog.

Example three (of many): I don't memorize lyrics to songs anymore. It could be because of my pod I no longer listen to albums over and over, instead setting my pod to shuffle, but I think it is because I listen to a song and then mentally move on.

Some people are afraid of robots taking over the world, I'm more afraid of becoming a robot.

So, to start myself on the road to becoming human again (goal: before I get married [so I will understand all the honeymoon stuff]), I now try to be the first one off the line at every light where I lead a line. It's what true leaders and individuals do. Green means go again. No means yes.

Don't worry

I think we are going to be okay.

My morning paper has the scores, the human interest stories, and the obituaries, oh yeah

Bad Religion's 'Stranger Than Fiction' is the most important album in my life.

6 May 1995.

When we got too old to have birthday parties, my folks would take us to dinner and whatever we wanted (always a movie). I can't remember where we ate, but I am betting it was Ruby River. I didn't want to see any movies, so we somehow ended up at Media Play. I went of searching while my parents were looking for whatever.

My friend Wes had lent me Stranger Than Fiction a few weeks earlier (somebody put it on a blank tape for him) and I listened to it all weekend while I was finishing a school report (that took all weekend, except the two Jazz-Rockets playoff games that I went to) while my sisters watched and re-watched a what seemed to be a real dumb movie with Whoopi Goldberg and Ray Liotta ('Corina Corina' or something) in the same room.

I thought it was a real cool album, and when I saw it at Media Play, I asked my parents if I could get it. Now, this was risky. First, they used to never just get something for no reason. When I was a few years younger, I convinced my mom to get my the new U2 album for no reason. The old man found out, and hid it away until Christmas (I got it in July) because he couldn't think of a reason for me to earn it. Second, once my pop and I went and bought me an album with money I saved. I bought Primus' Pork Soda, because I thought 'My Name is Mud' was the coolest song around. On the way home from getting Pork Soda, my dad made me stick the tape in the player and he disected every work of the song.
"Kiss him upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat?"
"Put him in the ground before he starts to smell?"
It ruined Pork Soda for me. I couldn't listen to it hardly at all and was so mad at myself for not getting Violent Femmes like I was considering ('Blister in the Sun' was as cool as 'My Name Is Mud').

My dad took a look at Stranger Than Fiction and saw the song titles. "Infected? What's that about?" "Nothing bad," I truthfully said. Maybe it was because of my impending birthday, but they let me get it. Thankfully, we didn't get a car with a CD player for three more years, so this album couldn't be ruined.

When we got back home that night, my sister came out and told us that my grandpa had called and said that my great grandpa had died. It was actually kind of good news. The funeral was on my birthday and it was a great birthday because I missed school and it was a cool funeral.

Two weeks later, we went to California, and that it is when I really figured out how great Stranger Than Fiction was. I had been listening to the second Stone Temple Pilots album a lot before that trip, but after the trip, I no longer had use for it.

On that trip, while up late one night, I also saw this:



(gratitudes to Bryton for the video)

Chuck Klosterman, Fargo Rock City

'I honestly believe Cinderella was one of the bands who were underrated by almost everyone, except possibly fourteen-year-old girls. Maybe I don't give mall chicks enough credit; maybe it's time to admit that fourteen-year-old girls are the only people in America who truly understand what coolness is supposed to look like.'

Me vs. the Internet

A few months ago, Bryton from Microsuede quipped, 'I'm always amazed by how swell life is when I shut down and put away my computer.' Reading that likely made most of you whimsically think, 'Ah, yes....life without the Internet,' then you moved on to another site and then another and another until it is time for you to go to bed.

Right now, I have two Internet windows open and am listening to iTunes. All day at work (did I mention that I have a new job? well I do), I sit in front of a computer using a program that is Internet-based and tens of times each day, I open up other windows and check my emails and blogs and boards. On the Gentle Tyrants podcast this week, Rob talked about hating his job and using his impending honeymoon as the reward-slash-break in the action to motivate him. I don't hate my job, but I use the Dubdubdub as my between work motive: complete this much and I can get back to the Web. Good for me for being a goal setter.

But what the heck? Over the last seven years, I think the Internet could be classified as an addiction of mine. I can't get enough. Free time becomes Internet time and Internet time spills into sleep time. When I use the computers up at school, study time became Internet time. Et cetera.

My first taste of this Web was back in the early 90s. My cousin had this thing called Prodigy (I think). Right now, I am resisting eliminating the preceding two lines and replacing them with, 'A thing called Prodigy was the fire starter'. To this day, all that I know about Prodigy was that it gave sports scores that I usually had to wait until the next evening for. Which, right there is a mind melter. Waiting until the evening for news? I know it happened, but I have a hard time believing it. Can you fathom living and not knowing exactly what is happening in the world until the evening after it happened (or the morning if your family subscribed to The Salt Lake Tribune)?

Hold up. This is supposed to be an anti-Internet piece....
I'll get back to it.

Sometime in the 90s, the Internet happened. It was so subtle that I can't pinpoint it. I remember sitting in my friend Doug's basement late one night and hopping on to a chat board and telling strangers that George Brett was a better third baseman than Wade Boggs or somebody. It was incredible. I had found people to discuss sports with whenever I wanted to. The next night, I told my dad about how great it was while he was barbequeing hamburgers. I told him about talking sports and his interest was lukewarm. I wanted it bad, though, so I said something that I should have known better than to say because asking was the kiss of death for me when it came to my pop during those years: 'So, I think we need Internet.' He shot it down and backed up his shots with possibly good points (bias makes the validity of his points questionable, but I will bury the hatchet and give him the benefit of the doubt). I'm not sure, but I bet that that was when I knew I was never going to makeout with a pretty girl because I never got what I needed in a reallyreally want sort of way (then again). It hurt to know that there were sports conversations happening while I was still playing regular Nintendo and watching network television.

Though my family still hasn't put cable in their television set, once I took matters into my own hands and bought a Playstation and my own TV to play it on, they upgraded their video game system, attaining the level of the original XBOX. And we got Internet. While I thought it would never happen that one night my dad told me why we didn't need it, it happened within a year or so. Unfortunately, it turned out that good sports discussions were hard to find, but there were more sites devoted to ska bands than my appetite even called for. I could hear a band on a comp(ilation), then read about them on the Web. Most times, they had already broken up because band on compilations usually don't last long. But still, I had the 411.

My Internet use didn't really go beyond ska bands, except on the rare occasion that I researched 80s TV shows or movies, until my friend James went on his mission. I obtained his email address and set one of my own up. I wish I knew what my original email address was, but I don't. In fact, I can't even tell you who my email service was through. But email was great, even if James was the only person that I emailed and most of our conversation were about the Spice Girls.

I don't know where I am going with this. Is it a boring history of the Internet or a discussion of the downfall of humanity? I think I already proved my point of the Internet quickly changing everyone's life in a span of about five years. Maybe it is time to make another point.

Okay, so anyway, I went on my mission. My old man said that somebody had set up a website for our mission, so on one of my first few days back home, I set up an email account and joined the Canada Edmonton webpage. The Internet had changed over the course of two years. The only thing the same was Yahoo!.

My post-mission boredom inspired me to find message boards devoted to college football. Finally, I found the sports discussions that I wanted. This was a horrible move, though. Message boards became a bigger part of my existence that I really want to admit. First, there were sports message boards. Then more general message boards. If not for message boards, I bet I would be done with school by now and I bet I would have done pretty well. Something about message boards grabbed me, though. I always liked discussing stuff with people, and they let me.

Message boards begat social networking sites which begat Youtubes and so on until I am sitting here with two windows open and listening to iTunes, a cluttered situation that is hard to clean up.

About a year ago, I started to realize what a slave I had become and decided to get all Harriet Tubman and free myself. For some reason, it has been extremely hard to not sit in front of a screen clicking links and hitting refresh, waiting for something to happen (and usually doesn't happen).

Here's the thing: I bet I am in the 50th-percentile of Internet addiction, and I don't think I am in denial when declare that. Really, you're probably worse.

Here's the other thing: the Internet can be pretty great. One can keep up with the news in an up-to-the-minute fashion, stay abreast of music, and learn weird stuff about famous murderers of the last century (as Lisa and I did last fall -- thank you wikipedia). One can also come into contact with good people like the aforementioned Bryton.

It's just that it all gets to be so much and too much. The Internet and cellular phones are everywhere all the time. In fact, I think the Internet has bred a new category of intelligence. You know, those kids who are always up to date on the latest youtube, the latest way to get free music and movies or the latest hilarious link. He is also probably the first person to Rick Roll you (and bless him for it). Such a kid is Internet Intelligent.

I digress. The Internet has become something that life revolves around and maybe we shouldn't let it so much. I mean, I still want you all there on gchat on the rare occasion that I am on and I will me ticked if you stop writing your blogs, but come on people, be people.

I guess what I am saying is remember sometimes what it was all like before the Internet.

Raoul

If you only knew.

She's the cheese and I'm the macaroni

This evening after work ended, I headed home, stopped to pick something up, finished the drive to my home, put on some nice clothes, got back into the car, picked something else up, drove some more until I reached my destination where I knocked on Lisa's door. She was asleep. Awkward.

I was nervous.


All I wanted to do was give her these:


and one of these:


I woke her up and presented my offerings and asked her a question. At first she was all:


But then she was like:


and we were totally:



And here is what we look when we are dressed up all nice (read: photo taken last weekend near Mt. Hood in Oregon):


(Engaged)
(You know how I do)

Your kisses are like Claritin.

School's back. Reset.

Also, welcome to my new blog look. Look how fast it loads. Maybe you should be grateful.

I will go if you say you'll go, do you want to go?

With school starting next week, Tuesday was my last day of freedom. So, using this:

and dressed like this:

I drove up Farmington-way to what fun is: Lagoon.

My main objective was to go to Lagoona Beach. I am in the midst of my second consecutive summer with a Lagoon Season Passport and I have only Lagoona Beach'd twice, once last year and again on Tuesday. Thing is, despite being shorter, waiting in lines for water slides alone is a bigger drag than solo-waiting for coasters. It's probably either because the destination isn't as fun with waterslides as it it with coasters or that one feels more exposed on account of being almost naked. Also, little kids cut in line on water slides. The first time, you just think the kid is a little messed up. The second time, you take notice. The third time, you realize kids are taking over the world. It's so messed up. A flight or two of stairs ar full of (more-than-half-nake) adults waiting in a line and these little six-to-eight year-olds just kind of weave their way throught the line until they get to the top. Each time it happened, I just pushed air out of my mouth to make a "Huh...." sound. It used to be that an older person like me used to be able to physically assault a little kid who pulled maneuvers like that. Okay, maybe times were never like that, but I can't do anything about it (besides yell, but that would just make me look prickish) and the little bastards know it.

Anyway, I've said too much.

Being alone, I decided it would be a laugh if I made myself look creepy by riding on kids rides like the Paratrooper, the OdySea, and the Deathtrap (Puff the Little Fire Dragon). The lines ended up being long enough that it wasn't worth the laugh. Except Puff the Little Fire Dragon. I straight chickened out on that one. I got there and realized that the line was so short and all it does is go around in a small circle. I just couldn't get myself to get in line with parents and their kids, despite how much I wanted to be able to blog, "I survived the Deathtrap (Puff the Little Fire Dragon)."

Anyway.

Janet, I could not be fooling you less

In life, I have two things: (1) a woman and (2) a pizza stone. A few days ago, I decided to introduce the two things to each other.
And then blog about it.

This is what I looked like. I looked this way because when Lisa came over, she woke me up from a nap. A fellow needs to sleep. He also needs to wear Hawaiian shirts.


These are a few of the role players.


This here is the star player, the Larry Bird of my making pizza for Lisa.


This little fella is Lisa's pizza. She believes in a gluten-free lifestyle, so I bought some pre-made gluten-free crusts from the grocer in my neighborhood, Harmons. I packed it with olives and mushrooms, because apparently Lisa also believes in a meat-free pizza lifestyle.


When you make pizza, you have to cook it in an oven, like so:


While that cooks, I will make my pizza. This time the crust isn't pre-made, although, it is just one of those just-add-water deals. I'm starting easy and working my way up to making my own crust. That will probably happen soon because the just-add-waters are kind of gross.


"Here is your pizza, Lisa."
"Thanks, Giant."


And here is my pizza. If you are the observant type, you might be asking-slash-thinking, where is the pizza stone, man? Well, I will tell you.

So, when making pizza on a stone, one is supposed to roll out the dough on a cookie sheet or something of that ilk. First, one must dust the cookie sheet with corn meal to avoid sticking. I do this, but while shaping the dough into pizza-shape, the corn meal gets pushed to the outside edges of the pizza. This causes the pizza to stick to the cookie sheet. I tried to slide it onto the pizza stone, and even asked Lisa for her expert help, but nothing doing. There was no way to maintain the integrity of the pizza and cook it on the Stone. Being a man of integrity, I decided to just cook it on the cookie sheet and consider better options for the next time.


After the pizza, Lisa and I watched Singles. The cool part about it was this guy was in it:

Pryzbylewski.

Morgan Freeman dies

Morgan Freeman isn't really dead, slikk.

(joke)

You know what's gross?

Vegetables.

These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade in the Los Angeles underground.

There's this episode of The A Team where Murdock gets kidnapped from an insane hospital by bounty hunters who want to cash in. They call him crazy, and he says, "Well, you took me from the insane ward." He escapes. While running from the bounty hunters, he sneaks into the back of the van of a veterinarian. The bounty hunters soon pull her over and search her car, but a dog in the back barks at them and they end their search there. One of the bounty hunters wants to shoot the dog, but the bounty hunter in charge says, "I don't want anymore shots fired around here." A few minutes after being spared, the veterinarian pulls over and opens up her van, pointing a gun at Murdock. She says, "I don't want to shoot you," and Murdock says, "I can tell you don't want to shoot me," and goes about his business. The girl then says, "What are you doing? I am pointing a gun at you." Murdock then cracks a joke about how it is a cap gun. He knew it all along. Him and the girl share a laugh. She asks who he is and who the bounty hunters are. Murdock answers and asks her why she didn't tell the bounty hunters he was in her van, since she knew before they even pulled her over. She tells him that it is because the dog didn't bark. "I've always found animals to be amazing judges of character." She takes him back to her house so that he can find a way to get in touch with The A Team, since their mobile phone antenna got shot out by the military while they were trying to find and save Murdock. Murdock is at her house listening to AM radio because one time Hannibal got separated from the unit in 'Nam, and he went straight to the local station and the unit heard his broadcast while driving in the jeep and saved him. The girl gives Murdock some tea. When he drinks it, she says, "I know, it is so gross." Murdock, referencing the music on the radio, says, "What's with this music? What ever happened to Van Halen, Boy George, and Frankie Goes To Hollywood?" The girl says, "Frankie Goes To Hollywood?" Murdock says, "Yeah. You'd really like them. Great beat." The girl says, "I'm embarrassed to say, but I don't really like that kind of music." Murdock replies, "What about the Rolling Stones?" She says, "Oh, I've heard of them. They had this one song I liked." When Murdock asked her which one, she said, "Norwegian Wood." Murdock corrects her, "That was the Beatles." Sensing the girl's embarrassment, he quickly changes the subject, "What do you all do for fun around her? Where does your boyfriend take you? Any nice restaurants you like that he takes you to?" The girls sheepishly tells Murdock that she doesn't have a boyfriend. "Sure you do. You have to have a boyfriend. You've got to...." Murdock stands up and sips his tea (which might be coffee -- I'm not good at telling which is which) and takes a few steps. "You should have a boyfriend....you're a really pretty girl." The girl, who is a babe, says, "I've never thought of myself as pretty." Murdock sets his hot drink on the mantle, grabs the girl, and pulls her up to the mantle, where he takes down a mirror and puts it in front of her face. "You're beautiful. I know it, and now you know it."

I played softball this year

The Beekeepers season ended the way it didn't start: with a loss. We lost to the only team we had defeated and the only team that had a worse record than us. Still, though, it was a lot of fun. I was the king of getting on base due to bad fielding by our opponents. My highlights of the season were catching a ball with my bare hand that had missed my glove and making a mad dash for second after a shortstops throw to firstbase was offline. The low point of the season was missing an easy infield fly and realizing that any natural athleticism that I had has disappeared.

Beekeepers: 1-13.

Pie, oh near

Here is how I celebrated (Kind of, that is. I spent most of the the day working, then trying to figure out why I couldn't set the store alarm even though I knew why, I just had to help somebody else figure out why):








(credit to the last photograph goes to Emily the Cliff)

Also, I ate a lot of delicious food.

Pep Talk

I got my first massage from a man. Well, the first one that I paid for. Which, uh, makes it my first massage from a man still.

Lisa and I had the great idea of getting a pre-Project Runway massage last Wednesday. Maybe we hoped it would make us cool customers like Timmy Gunn is. Or, maybe Project Runway had not much to do with our massage, it just happened to be on that night and not start until 10 p.m..

We found that one of the mooses (what we here at You Know How I Do call them because we don't know how to spell the real word) was certified, and one was just a student. The certified mooses charge $10 more, but also give better massages. We also found that one was a girl and the other was a dude. We were trying to figure out which of us was willing to pay the extra cash. I offered, but we decided to let the gender of the certified moose be the ultimate deciding factor. If it was a boy, Lisa went with him, if it was a girl, I would.

Well, when we showed up, we didn't really have an option. A dude and a girl came out and looked at the schedule. It looked like they would decide. I had been moosed by the girl before, and she did well, so I was hoping the cards would fall that way. Alas, they did not, and I got stuck with Lars.

I wasn't totally bummed, though, because I am massage bi-curious. I have had short, 10-second man-mooses before. They didn't feel bad at all. Totally professional, you know? So, I approached my hour with Lars in a professional manner (while also repeating to myself, "Don't get a boner. Don't get a boner.").

Lars led me to my room, and attempting a soothing voice, he said, "So, uh, have you been here before?"
--Yeah.
--(looking at the body chart of what I wanted "worked")You want you legs focused on?
--Yeah, they're kind of sore.
--From riding a bike or something? (don't forget, he is using an ungenuine soothing voice)
--No, playing softball.
--Okay, well go ahead and get comfortable and we'll start you out face-down.
--Okay, thanks.

Lars was great at asking me if the pressure he was giving me was acceptable. "Yes," I would always respond. He started "working" around my armpit, and I almost started laughing. Then, I did start laughing. "A little ticklish there, I see," he said. I concurred. For some reason, he started working the other side in the same spot, probably even deeper into my armpit. The more I thought about not laughing, the more I wanted to, and finally, I did one of those loud laughs where I spit out the moisture in my mouth. I apologized, and jazz-voiced Lars responded, "It's better than screaming in pain [huh/eh/right]?" Again, I concurred.

Overall, the massage was nice. I now have a theory that men don't have to be as skilled at giving massages for it to not be a bad one. I don't know if it is bigger fingers or stronger hands, but they aren't as bad as a girl who is bad. But, a girl who is good is immeasurably better than a man who is good.

When Lars finally got to my legs, he started slapping my calves really hard. It was loud and made me laugh. It was so loud that Lisa could hear it. She said it sounded like the bation of masturs.

When the massage was over, and I was no longer naked, Lars handed me a glass of water.

--I want you to drink a lot of water after this.
--Okay, I will. Trust me. (I don't know why I needed Lars' trust, but apparently I did)
--and keep swinging that bat.

Thanks, Lars.
I almost lost it and had to turn around and load my mouth with water to keep from laughing.

I wonder what other kind of motivational snippets he hands out after moosing people.
For people who are sore from running: "Take it one stride at a time."
For those sore from their jobs: "Take a break every now and then, okay?"
From basketball: "A gentle push and a mild arch....the ol' cowhide globe will hit home."
That's all I have for now.

That girl is like a sunburn

Is it safe to admit that one of those moments where a person finds out who they are happened to me because of a Third Eye Blind song? Probably not, eh, music snots?

I heard my friend Mark say, about ten times during a span of a year or so back in the early '00s, that he wanted to get in a fight. He knew that his chances in the fight were slim, and that he probably wouldn't inflict much damage on the other person's face or guts, so why even bother? "I figure I'd learn a lot about myself," he would say. He was too much of a sweetheart for any of us to offer to kick his crap in, and I reckon the rest of the world felt the same way. so, as far as I know, Mark still hasn't learned what he wanted to. But, I can see what he means.

Black eyes and broken ribs aren't too shabby of way to learn about yourself. I mean, there is the pain, and the re-and-re-telling of the story when people ask what happened to your face, but once the wounds heal and you look less pathetic, your story could get a lot better, and perhaps you would make a few more friends. Plus: lesson learned. You'd know how many punches you can take before you can't take anymore without crying and what kind of noises you make when you're getting your crap handed to you.

But....Third Eye Blind, sometimes abbreviated as 3eb according to Wikipedia? Kind of a completely shabby way to learn who you are.

I hated Third Eye Blind from the first time they entered my ears. I remember the first time I heard "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life". We were in my friend Doug's older brother Bob's car, a Geo of some sort, towards the end of the summer of 1997. By the way, have Geo's been outlawed in the lower 48? I haven't seen one since my little sister sold her Metro. I digress. So, we heard the song on the way home from watching Con Air at the theaters (Bob was our rated-R movie hook-up), and I said, "Stupid song." Bob was pissed. He'd yell at me sometimes. Like when I called Seinfeld overrated. And another time when I said something while we were watching Die Hard: With a Vengeance. Anyway, he was mad because he has been singing along. Not during the Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo part, but the rest of it. So, my tact was a bit off. Or, perhaps my adjective was too strong. Whichever, I was right. And Third Eye Blind (3eb) is a dumb name for a band. Their other hit songs over the next year were even lamer. I also remember Doug getting in a fight with our friend Brian later that day. It made everything with that group of friends awkward and things were never the same (which turned out to be a good thing, at least for me).

Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and in the summer of 2002, I took a job as a delivery driver for a construction supply company. For the next almost two years, I listened to a lot of Jim Rome and a lot of radio. I tried playing tapes in the truck, but tapes didn't play as loud in that big truck and the music would be drowned out by the loudness that it took to operate a ride like that. So, radio it was. It was while listening to that radio in that truck that I heard the news of Elizabeth Smart being found, and where I realized that I had seen her and her crew less that five minutes before the cops stopped them. I also stayed abreast of top-40 radio. Ashanti was huge then. I loved those rap songs that included a girl with a nice voice spitting the chorus. I also loved the easy listening songs. My favorite song, though, was one that started off with a guitar strum, then a sythesizer, then a "Woo!". I knew it was an older song because it played on those stations that don't only play the latest hits, but I didn't know who sang it. For more than a year, I was left in the dark, because the deej would never announce who played the song after it aired.

I finally found out that the song was by Third Eye Blind. "No way," I thought. "That doesn't sound anything like "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life" and there are no hints of that 'will I GRADUATE?' song. I just can't be. The deej messed up." Soon after, I found out that it was, in fact, them.

--I can no longer like that song, I guess.
--But wait, you like(d) that song so much.
--Yeah, but 3eb.
--Still, man, you REALLY liked it. It was your favorite radio song. You even admitted that to yourself. I'm calling you on it.
--But, I like punk rock.
--You were thinking about buying whatever album that song was on.
--That's because I thought the rest of the ablum might be cool like that song is cool.
--Me too. Just because we now know that it probably isn't, though, doesn't mean you can all of the sudden hate that song.
--It doesn't?
--Nope. Not if you want to keep it real.
--Ouch.

So, on that day, "keeping it real" started to mean something. What I like is what I like. Just because stupid people or a the majority might like something, doesn't mean that I can't. Disliking something doesn't make me more interesting.

It may sound dumb, but this realization changed a lot about me. It broadened not only the music I like, but also other things like movies. (Joe Ghiz: I still think Minority Report was boring and Bourne Identity was great. I was being real that weekend.)

So, here's to you, "Never Let You Go" by Third Eye Blind. You made me better people.

"You say that I've changed. Well maybe I did. But even if I've changed. What's wrong with it?"

(sidenote: maybe Third Eye Blind, lame name and mostly lame music aside, aren't totally lame. From wikipedia: The band gained major label attention after their second demo was released in 1995, including that of Clive Davis, who invited the band to perform a showcase for Arista Records in New York City.[1] During Third Eye Blind concerts at the time, it was customary for the band to have a piñata release candy above their mosh pits, yet at the showcase for the record executives, lead singer Stephan Jenkins released live crickets from the piñata instead.

"Your attention please I've got something to share

So feast your eyes upon my brand new hair
If your eyes can adjust
To the neon glare and my look of disgust

What are you seeking validation for
At the character assassination store
Their shelves are full but nothing's cheap

So pick your ego up of the floor
And inch or two but nothing more
It's a crutch you want not what you got
You're falling all over the looks you bought

The best are brought down by degrees
The rest are curiosities
Attention please! is all they understand

Drawing a crowd for some meager pay
Drawing a bead down on the weakly pray
Got to throw in your hat
Win, lose or draw you're a diplomat

You pull the act out on demand
And always have the upper hand
Be prepared for reprimand
Attention's all they understand

The best are brought down by degrees
Or killed by curiosities
Attention please! is all they understand"
-Sicko

I did get a new haircut, that part isn't bull. I also got a new camera, a Cannon Elph. I need to learn how to charge the battery, though. Maybe I should write a whole blog about buying it. I have started cooking on a George Forman Grill (the Next Grilleration, they call it [or maybe just George calls it that]. which reminds me, my friend Judy wrote this funny bit about her Grill: "I named my George Foreman grill - George. He is just a little guy, but packs a punch.").

Since I last wrote, I have been to Oregon. I know, I know, I need to post pictures. I'm getting to it....right after I get to posting pictures of searching ghost towns (or, rather, half-ghost half-pre-ghost towns) on my birthday. I have also been to Lagoon thrice. Once with Bryton, once with Nathaniel, once with Damian and Danny (roommates!), and thrice with Lisa. This weekend, I and my woman are taking a much needed restcation to Mesquite/St. George/The Vegas. Maybe my Elph will take some pictures.

But, whatever. This blog has become too much about pictures. That whole trip to Seattle thing took too long to load all those pictures on my computer, then took too long to upload on here, and now makes this blog page takes too long to load. It's bull. But, this blog also realizes the importance that pictures play in its life. Me and it have decided to just be more discretionary with the pictures.

Also, I am trying to stop swearing.

Basically, what I am saying is that I am committing myself to write more blogs. I need the writing practice. Don't believe me? Read this travesty that I dropped last week.

My girl is entrepreneur

Lisa's etsy shop got featured on a Salt Lake blog that highlights hip stuff about The City. Hers are the lemon drop earrings. This link might get updated in a few days and her recognition will no longer be on top.

I can't help but feel like a proud poppa.

(Lisa explains it all better here)

"We were past the point of debating the wisdom of this move; it was already done and our only hope was to get to the other side."*

Here are the pictures of my March 14 to March 17 trip to Seattle to spend dude time with Nathaniel. I know, finally, right?














The above pictures were taken with Nathaniel's camera, the below with my camera, which is really Lisa's camera. The following pictures are in alphabetical order. For more on this trip, look here or lend your ear here.





























* = Hunter S. Thompson, from "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"