Tripped Up

My passion for travel started back in May of 2006 when I visited Europe.  I was bitten by the travel bug then, and the fever has persisted to this day.
     Back in the early stages of winter, I developed this idea that I wanted to go to Cancun at some point during the cold weather months.  The idea that formed in my head remained a specter of my true desire.  My sister mentioned about going to Orlando, but my infatuation with Cancun directed her words in one ear, and straight out of the other...or so I thought.
     It was only after I had buried my hopes of going to Cancun that Orlando entered back into my mind; this time with much more fury than before.  Upon concluding what seemed to be an infinite deliberation process, the airfare to Florida was booked.
     The morning of February 13th began with much anticipation.  We arrived at the airport with no problem whatsoever.  As we entered the terminal, we somehow must have attracted an unlucky aura which was loitering outside.  As we go to get our boarding passes, my sister realizes she doesn't have her current drivers license.  If I may provide an understatement, let me say this was a small cause for panic.  It was very lucky that my sister had alternate forms of identification which was satisfactory to TSA.
     Everything from that point until our descent into Tampa was literally and figuratively smooth.  We landed in Tampa, picked up our luggage, then headed to pick up the rental car.  I was slightly annoyed because I was looking forward to not driving on the trip, but my sister's lack of a current license ensured that I would be taking an active role in getting us from place to place..
     Somehow this aura of bad karma followed us from Utah to Florida.  While at islands of adventure, one of my contacts fell out then ripped.  I spent the latter half of the day partially blind.  Perhaps the best part of the day was paying almost nine dollars for a mediocre hamburger and fries.  No matter how much I desired the fun to stop there, it did not.  We spent a few minutes in the rain waiting the bus to take a long time to drop us off at the hotel.
     Going to beach was an adventure in itself, if you call being at your wits end an adventure.  I think it has taken people less time to cross the expanse of an entire state than it did for us to get to the beach in a vehicle.  What made me really excited was the GPS took us the long way.  The beach was great once we arrived.  Returning home from a vacation never really is a fun thing, but for us it was a nightmare without the dream.  The two children behind us were acting up and making noise for a good portion of the flight.  What a delight for the ears!  We were unfortunately made aware that these children would be on our connecting flight as well.  My emotional world nearly came crashing down.    Now that I have returned, I get to repair the damage.





   
   

A Hug Not Worth Remembering

     I've never claimed to be a hugging virtuoso,  but what happened about a month ago doesn't even qualify as pond scum.  The middle of winter can be quite brutal, and that particular night it was cold as I remember.  A female friend and I had just gotten out of a movie, and we were walking to her car.  I accompanied her to her car as a gentlemanly gesture, only to humiliate myself at the end of the stroll in such a way that only a true dunce could appreciate.
     As we arrived near her car, we stopped and talked for a minute or two.  Little did I know that there was a clumsy force inside me that was about to be unleashed.  I had decided that I wanted to hug her, as to avoid any embarrassing conclusion to the night.  I went in for the hug, and the product of my effort was a hybrid of a hug and a convulsion. I found myself doing the unthinkable:  the back-pat. 
     I must confess this instance was a repeat offense.  I recall at least one other time where the ever-ugly portion of my repertoire, the back-pat, came instinctively out of me.  This hug must have been colder than the air in which we were standing.  It would have been hard to identify if it was the cold or the embarrassment which turned my face red, but my hypothesis is the embarrassment.  I immediately acknowledged the error to my friend, to which she concurred.
    For a man who likes to give women a quality experience, the hug frankly was a first degree failure.       

A Memory of a Movie

Ok. I have apparently decided subliminally somehow to only update the blog once a month. To some of you that may just be about right, and to the other, and quite smaller group I may add, it may not be enough. After all I know that my blog must be an all-you-can-eat buffet of laughter. I can't help but think back to a few years ago while I was living in St. George. A few times my friends and I would get together and have fun with a video camera. One of the endeavors we undertook was an authenitic "true to life" recreation of the Ammon and King Lamoni story in the Book of Mormon. I really really wish I still had that video so I could post it on Facebook. Anyway, I played the part of King Lamoni, and did so with such power and awe-inspiring skill that it probably would make Charlton Heston's Moses look like a babe in its mother's arms. (The preceeding statement is most likely false in every respect). The video was so true to the story that instead of using real severed arms, we got the ingenious idea to replace them with oven mitts. Chew on that Speilberg! I had tons of fun making it, the only regret I do have is that a true cinematic treasure is now lost. (That preceeding statement is mostly false, except for the "I had tons of fun making it" comment). What does the movie-making future hold for me? Only time will tell.....

The quasi miracle

For the second time in a row, I am going to write about golf, and yes I did golf this morning.  This particular outing was more pleasent than usual.  I will start off by saying that for the second consecutive time, my driving ability was pretty non-existant.  I should probably work on that huh?  Anyway, overall I think I did better than at any point in my entire life, as far as the overall round went.  For some reason, be it luck or whatever but my ball happened to find itself about 25 feet away from the hole, not that far off the green.  I took my usual practice swings and then hit the ball.  Let me tell you now that the hit was an absolute thing of beauty.  I watched as the ball hit the green, and like a laser guided missile hitting its target, rolled right into the hole.  I was pretty much in shock.  Never in my life had something so wonderful as that happened, and just a guess but probably will not happen again.  That made my day.  I am going out on a limb here by saying that it was all because I watched Happy Gillmore last night.  Moral of the story:  Happy Gillmore will turn any bad golfer into a good one (temporarily).

Golf....I like golf very much. I think the reason I like it so much is the uncertainty. I have experienced the phenomena of doing well (for my subpar ability), and then the very next round throwing whatever game I had to begin with to proverbial heck. At the very pinnacle of self-confidence I get knocked way back to it is where I came from in the first place. The prompt for this entry comes from today's golf outing. Four of us were in the group, out of which I came in third place. One of the main reasons for this is that I could not drive the ball if my life depended on it. If hitting the ball poorly were a crime, I would be locked away for a very long time. Watching me try to hit the ball was like watching a blind man chop wood. The day wasn't all bad though. At least I made it through the entire nine holes without losing a ball. That rarely happens. I did manage in all my eccentric stupidity to not put sunblock on, and hence my skin magically turned red. (I think they call that a sunburn.) That leaves me with two memories of today's activities. May many happy days of golfing uncertainty be ahead!

A country weekend

In starting this entry, I want to state that yes I am in fact going to a country concert this weekend. Those who know me would most likely be thinking to themselves that I have gone way off the deep end or so, and believe me when I say that I completely agree with you! I will admit that I do like some country, but to consider myself a country fan I have to decline. I often said to myself that I would never go to a country concert, and I find myself disobedient to my own way of thinking. Feel fee to verbally abuse me at any time. The only two reasons I am going are 1. the ticket is free (there is no way I would actually pay to see a country concert) and 2. to get away from Salt Lake for a very brief amount of time. If I don't make it out alive, keep in mind that I went out without much of a fight but with my boots on. So remember to keep me in your prayers as I brave a couple of hours of country music. If somehow I make it though, I will hopefully be a better man for it.

.A Movie for a Life

I think it would be fun to think of various movies that would describe different aspects of my life, and I will attempt to humor you with some ideas that I can apply too my life. First of all, just as a warning I apparently have temporarily lost the ability to be clever, so if this entry sucks, here is my preemptive apology. A movie that would describe my work life well would be The Neverending Story. Trying to describe my everyday life is a little more trying. *thinking really hard* Possibly Groundhog Day. Sometimes I feel I am reliving the same day over and over again. On to my social life. A good one for that would be The Invisible Man, which would aptly describe why it is Friday, and I am home. Finally on to my love life. As a precursor to this let me say that I am overly ecstatic that Valentine's Day will be here before we know it. YAY VALENTINE'S DAY!!*
The two movies that instantly come to mind are 1. Gone With the Wind and 2. Gone in 60 Seconds. I don't think I need to explain those. This probably isn't my best work, but it will have to do. I hope you at least somewhat laughed or at least started to crack a smile.
*=sarcastic remark

Holey Pantalones!

Last weekend I was in the mall looking to purchase some clothing. I was looking at pants, and noticed that mostly every pair of pants had at least one hole in them. I was unaware they had thrift stores in the mall these days. The sad observation was the store I was in was not in fact a thrift store, only had the quasi-appearance of one. One of the many things I will never do is buy a pair of pants (new) with holes already in them. If I did, in some hopefully brief instance of insanity and confusion wish to purchase holey pants, I would just go to the DI and save myself about fifty dollars. In fact, I don't think even the DI would sell such pants. Luckily I was eventually able to find a nice pair of pants with no holes. Call me old fashioned or whatever you will, but if any pants of mine have holes, it will be because I wore them out, or out of my own stupidity caused the hole myself. Don't get me started on the pants with the stains already in them.

Overconfident to zero in 30 minutes

Confidence is a very good thing. Overconfidence is not so good. In my opinion, males are born with a gene that makes us believe in ourselves more than we should. It is similar in some respects to the idiot gene, and the "I don't need to ask for directions" gene. Well one night, that gene decided to show up in all its glory. Getting straight to the point, I felt like I could handle the "chocolate milk challenge". This consists of drinking a gallon of chocolate milk in an hour, and then keeping it down for another hour. To make a short story even shorter, I failed. It wasn't one of those times where I can say that "I almost made it" , I didn't even come close. I lasted about thrity minutes. The remains of my ill-fated attempt were scattered across the bathroom floor. Do you know how it feels to stand in the ruins of a crumbled ego? Not good I will tell you, but a man's ego is like a cartoon character. It can get blown up one second, then appear in the next scene as if nothing had happened. This occured back in 1999, and I am happy to say that my overconfidence gene is still as good as ever.

What day was my date again?

What I am writing I consider to be one of my most embarrassing moments ever. This occurred back in February I believe. One of the few times in my life I have had a second date happened to be that night, or "a" night really. Maybe I was just so in shock that I got a second date that my mind was not in the right place. Anyway, as the story goes, I get myself ready, and well that really goes without saying as I prefer to look as presentable as I can when I go on a date. I show up at this girl's door, and after a bit she finally opens the door. All was not well. I noticed that she was not dressed for going on a date, rather the attire she was wearing was definitely more suited for sleeping. "Why are you wearing pajamas?" I said to myself. "What are you doing here?" she said to me audibly. Naturally I responded that I was here for the date, as I had assumed we would be going out that night. Well she then proceeded to tell me that the date was not until the following night. At that moment, every single idiot alarm in my body went off, my face probably turned red. She graciously readied herself and we went out anyway. End of story: we went on one more date after that, then an abrupt end. And I wonder why I am still single.

The Game (A sports allegory)

Way back when I was 16, I was drafted into the NDL (National Dating League). I was a rookie, in fact I didn't even play at all my first year. My second year wasn't much better as far as playing time goes. Most players in the NDL play a few years, get their bumps and bruises, and eventually retire at a reasonable age. A select few choose to retire long before their time, and yet others choose to play way past their prime. After several year of playing the game, after my share of broken legs and concussions, after becoming a seasoned veteran, I find myself somehow still playing, and although I am past retirement age, I cannot retire. I am running out of breath from being on the field so long. I really need to call a timeout to catch my breath.

My trip to Las Vegas

I am not totally sure what to write. Okay so my reason for going to Vegas was to go to a music/food festival. I had little idea what I was in for when I went. It was kind of like going on a blind date, and when you see your date for the first time, you think to yourself "what did I get myself into?", and then almost simultaneously vomiting. One of the things that I had failed to anticipate was the volume of people attending the event. I probably could have effectively crowd-surfed from one end of the park to the other. Crowd-surfing is another subject all together. Secondly, there were plenty enough smokers to go around. I can't stand cigarette smoke, and can find absolutely no satisfaction that anyone could get out of smoking. So I felt like a secondhand chain-smoker while I was there. NASTY STUFF!! On top of that, people were throwing water bottles and frisbees around. I even saw one guy leave with a bloody head. I am thankful nothing happened to me! If i knew that would be the case I would have worn my chain mail. (I don't really own any, but for humourous purposes let's pretend I do.) So finally Lifehouse comes on, and that was cool, but I was glad to get out of there. That is my trip in a small snippet aside from riding in a car and fun stuff like that. We went to this interesting Italian place which I will discuss in my next blog. Enjoy!!

The house of sticks

I assume it is safe to say that most of us have heard the story of the three little pigs. I will liken myself to one of those foolish pigs who unwisely built his house out of sticks. As the story goes, I found a nice place to build a house, and so I started to build. I was under the false impression that somehow sticks would be a good choice for my house. When my house was funished, I looked at it and said "this is a pretty nice house for sure." I was quite happy with it, and took no more thought of it. I was happy with were I was living. After a short while, it was brought to my attention that certain problems in the building materials were exposed. Again, in my thoughtlessness gave little heed to the warnings. In one swift turn of events, my house came crashing down, and I was left with little more than a pile of broken sticks. Lesson learned: I should have known all along to use bricks instead of sticks. I just hope I can rebuild on the same site with the much stronger material.

"miss"communication

If there were money be made in the "not being able to communicate well" field, I would be the next Warren Bufett. I would consider my communication skills somewhere between a rock and a snail. I find it amazing that after 31 years on this earth I haven't quite gotten the hang of it. I will admit that sometimes, to use a comparison to art. communication is like a Van Gogh, and other times like a Picasso. Silence is golden, but silence can also be like a rusty nail. If you step on it, you need a tetnus shot. Bad communication is like gingivitus, it can make anything that comes out of your mouth stink. The phase goes: it is better to keep your mouth shut, and have people think you a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. But is it also better to be a fool than mute? There is some food for thought. Experience has led me to believe this may at least be somewhat true.

Cruise Blues

The honest truth is I've been itching to go on a cruise this year. I've been doing some checking around and there are good deals out there. The only catch is 4 people have to be in a room. If you have ever been on a cruise, you know that the rooms are not much bigger than a normal sized bedroom would be. That is not a big deal only because the time spent in your cabin on a cruise is minimal. The bulk of the time is spent sleeping anyway, so who cares? I have certain principles that guide my decisions, and overpaying for things is just something that I will rarely, if ever do. It turns out that the tax to go on a cruise is over 30 percent. Where is the justification in that?

Tuition Tantrem

I recently started a semester of college at the University of Utah. I normally have four classes each semester, but as it turns out, I only have one class. It is reasonable to assume that only having one class would significantly reduce the tuition cost. I fell victim to this line of thinking. As it turns out, the cost of one three credit class at the University of Utah is close to 1,200 dollars. If there were ever an opposite of Robin Hood, this is it. Robbing from the poor to give to the rich isn't exactly what I would call "being the hero". This is not where the terror ends. The textbook that I purchased for this one class sold for a whopping 185 dollars! Sometimes I feel like I am being kicked while I am down. Sure they no longer charge tax on textbooks, but the real victory would come in a lowering of the cost of textbooks. If there ever was a way to make a grown man cry, this is it.

The First Date

First dates are the best. The date allows two people to initially get to know each other while hopefully have fun that the same time. I have been on more first dates than any man should have to bear. They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression. This is the guy's one and only chance to prove to the woman that he isn't a complete idiot or a psycho. Sometimes a guy can get so caught up in not trying to be an idiot that he completely destroys the very edifice he is trying to construct. At the very same time as his image goes to who knows where, his chances of getting a second date suddenly grow wings and fly off to neverland as well. Unfortunately we live in a society where certain feelings and desires are not always black and white. If a guy passes through the gauntlet with minimal or no damage, he must then somehow decipher by some code known only to women if she desires a second date. This generally occurs at the end of a date, which in an of itself can be a very awkward situation. There are three possible endings for a date, and I have experienced all three. First, and probably most common is the hug. This is a potentially good sign since the girl is in essence saying "well you didn't turn me off enough to not want to be withing hugging distance of you." The second is saying goodnight and just walking away. This is usually not a good sign. The third is the handshake. The funny thing about the handshake, and this is probably the most awkward way to end a date, is that is makes the date seem more of a business deal than anything else. For a habitual dater like myself, dating can sometimes feel like "business as usual."

The first blog!

This is my first attempt at blogging. The purpose of this blog is to be of a humurous nature. I will be posting funny stories from my life or my comical views on certain aspects of life. Right now I cannot be certain of how often I will write, but be sure to check back now and then!