Use Your Words

Sometimes when Tom gets all flustered he can't say what he wants and he sounds like a 4 year old. But that is not what I wanted to talk about ;-D
I have always loved words. When I find someone that can string words together beautifully and artistically it is like magic to me. Cue in Nickelback, Zachary Paul Gibson and I were just talking about these studs a couple of nights ago.
Some of you may be aware that Billboard just named Nickleback the "Band of The Decade." If this is true, then we should celebrate! Why, you ask? Because we have just survived the worst decade in the history of the world.
Now I'm not saying that Billboard was ever the best source to search if you wanted to find GOOD music, but come on, Nickelback? The thoughts that go through my head every time I hear a Nickleback song are pretty much summed up by the fine words shared by the gentleman in this clip:


Let's look at a few of Nickleback's most provoking, shall we?

Feeling fine, Lets rip out yours instead of mine

And all you need

Are several ways to watch me bleed?

Well, thanks for stoppin' this beating in my chest

It's easier now, and I'm happy like this

Just like this

I feel ya, bro. It actually gets worse. I went to a website that had all the Nickleback albums listed with the lyrics for each song. What I found is that each album finds these modern day Mozarts diving deeper into an inner struggle only REAL men face.
Real men who are 30-something and got their own place . . . in the trailer park where they don't have to worry about their mom walking in on them watching "Girls Gone Wild." who are paying child support to a teenage girl they met one fateful night at the bowling alley. Real men who would consider vaccuuming the carpet if they could find it under all the beer bottles and halfway crushed Red Bull cans.
The issue with these "real" men, is that gosh darnit, they have feelings too! They just lack the vocabulary to express themselves, thank goodness Nickleback is there to do it for them.

That's why for every jam they create like "Figured You Out"

And I love the way you pass the check
And I love the good times that you wreck
And I love your lack of self-respect
While you passed out on the deck
I love my hands around your neck

(This is just a terrible song. I didn't post anything else from it because it could be considered pretty offensive, but if you're curious enough to witness the worst song writing ever, just google it)

They're able to counter attack with a ballad like "Photograph"

Kim's the first girl I kissed
I was so nervous that I nearly missed

(I actually had a hard time picking just one line from this song, it's such a masterpiece. You really should take the time to look this one up. I'm suspecting Nickelback stole the lyrics from someone's freshman poetry assignment at that high school he sings about breaking into)

And for every "Rockstar"

And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny With her bleach blond hair
(Author's note: If I ever hear you blastin this from your pickup truck, I will judge you. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't, I just can't help it under those type of conditions)

There is a "Gotta Be Somebody" or a gem like "I'd Come For You"

By now you'd know that I'd come for you
No one but you, yes I'd come for you
But only if you told me to
And I'd fight for you
I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you
You know I'd always come for you
(Not sure if Nickleback's inspiration for this song was Bryan Adams or Hanson . . . or both)

We get it Nickleback. Because we live in the USA where you have an inalienable right to freedom of speech, we unfortunately cannot make you stop. But your decade is over now, please just go away.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I think it was Fall Semester of 06 when Zach and I first discussed the concept of never turning older than 23 until we either left Rexburg or got married. Well this is my first birthday out of Rexburg, so no more annual 23rd birthdays, I'm moving on. I'm actually excited, I've been putting off turning 24 for a couple of years now, I think good things will come from it.
On a more serious note, if I ever call any of you asking if "you know of anybody who could benefit from earning a degree or going to school online," don't panic. It's really just my excuse to try to maintain our friendship while I'm at work. However, if you really do know somebody, I won't reject your suggestion.
Oh, and one more note, of mid-seriousness. I started changing the strings on my guitar before I realized that I have never changed the strings on a guitar before. Help?

09: made it mine

Hey there Eskimo Nation! That's right, I am re-naming my mass following of readers. Don't like being labeled like that? Then you shouldn't have read that last sentence. Even if you never read my blog again, the title is sticking, so get used to it. It's not like I'm making you buy "Eskimo Nation" t-shirts with my face on them . . . actually, that's not a bad idea. Anyhow, since I haven't been active in the blogosphere for some time now, the purpose of this post is to update you all on why life is good.

October:
SKYDIVING!
You may have noticed the super bad (in a good, like really, really cool way) gray and red jumpsuit I am wearing in the picture. They don't just give those out to anybody. I had to ask for one, the guy kinda gave me a weird look, and then kinda slowly said "yeah . . . go ahead and try that one on." I guess most people jump out of an airplane for the thrill and don't really care about looking like a hero while they do it. Well good for most people, I happen to like looking awesome when I'm paying for about 100 pictures that are being snapped of me while I'm free falling from 13,000 feet high. Also I had to borrow some gnarly imitation lace-up vans because I wore slip-ons. It's ok though because I asked my buddy Zach who runs a fashion blog, and he said the blag shoes matched well with the black harness for my parachute.

November:
fun.
The first time I saw Nate's new band at a record release party in Chandler, I wasn't too impressed with the short set list or the crowd that showed up. The highlight was when I saw Sam Means there and talked to him and I'm pretty sure he liked the moustache I was sporting at the time.
I decided to give fun. a second chance when they came back through Tempe on a headlining tour in November. Radness.
1- The crowd wasn't a bunch of teenage girls. There were as many people in their 20's as teens, and a few people in their 30's, 40's, etc. I saw one dude that rockin the bands t-shirt that looked pretty darn old. There was also a pretty even guy/girl ratio.
2- The crowd went nuts went Nate came out, he had this big smile that made him look like a little kid trying to hide how excited he is to open his Christmas presents. After opening with "At least I'm not as sad as I used to be," fun. told some jokes mostly about Arizona and made fun of some of the responses from audience members. Nate then said "we're going to play a cover song" and went right into Dog Problems. Needless to say, I lasted two songs before losing my voice that night.
3- The crowd went crazy whenever they played a song that mentioned Arizona or Phoenix. When they played "The Gambler," (2nd to last song, after they left stage and everyone cheered them back on) Nate seemed pretty emotional singing about his parents and being back in the place they raised him. He didn't cry or anything, but he seemed . . . I don't know, reflective, pensive, maybe. It was cool, he really spoke fondly of AZ throughout the show.
4- When I first heard Aim and Ignite, I thought it sounded a little too "Format gone Broadway" for me. After this last show, I really dig the album whenever I'm in the mood for some upbeat pop music. I find myself enjoying songs like Barlights, Walking the Dog, and Take Your Time (Coming Home) a lot more than I did before.

I was actually standing right behind the person who recorded this. If you listen closely, you can hear my voice singing along.
Obviously there's been more goodness pouring into my life than these two events, but I know I get bored reading posts that are this long, so I'll be dropping a few more bombs of radicality within the next few days.

Xoxo,
QPM

Every time I sit down to update my blog

I realize that I'm really hungry, sorry people, maybe later.

Things that Tom taught me

As mentioned in a previous post, Thome Widdison taught me a lot of great things, namely how to wipe my bum-bum.

1- You only need to use four squares, at the most! This is the most important one, that is why it is number one. The economy is bad right now, no need to flush away clean TP.

2- Make sure you wipe thoroughly! Just because it looks clean, doesn't mean it is. There is nothing worse than finding leftover crumbs when you're supposed to be as clean and smooth as a baby's bottom. (Don't know if y'all noticed, but I just took a figurative saying, and gave it a literal application, lol ;)

3- Wipe the counters/mirrors/sink when you are done. it doesn't matter what you were doing in there, wash them anyways. Chances are they're dirty no matter what. The same rule that applied to your rear end applies here. Just because it looks clean doesn't mean it actually is.

4- Sweep the floor. Scrub the shower, run a dampcloth over the baseboards and the light fixtures. Throw away any all trash. This is not hard so i can never understand why it doesn't get done.

5. Pull up your pants and DO UP YOUR ZIPPER! This is also not hard. I still don't understand why it doesn't get done.

Seriously guys, these things are not hard and they are so worth the effort. No one wants roommates angry at them. No roommate wants a messy bathroom. They also don't want to have to go really bad but have to clean up other people's messes before they can relieve themselves. I cannot tell you how many times this has happened to me over the last 2 years. It's incredibly irritating. I know it's something i just have to live with but I just had to vent. thank you for reading... if you read this whole thing. And thank you THOME WIDDISON (because i KNOW you read the WHOLE thing. Probably 5 minutes after i posted it too. I know you stalk me. I also know you're proud of me for knowing how to clean. Yes, I am your bestie for teaching me how to clean properly)

Ardi "the oldest human"

Some of you may have heard of the oldest human skeleton that scientists found recently. Exciting? Yes. What I want to know is why did they name it after a dog? Seriously, Ardi? . . . What are they going to name the next oldest skeleton that they find, Patches? Spot? Woofie?
Here's what science is saying about this latest big find:
"This older skeleton reverses the common wisdom of human evolution," said anthropologist C. Owen Lovejoy of Kent State University.
"Rather than humans evolving from an ancient chimplike creature, the new find provides evidence that chimps and humans evolved from some long-ago common ancestor — but each evolved and changed separately along the way."
Oh science, you're so fickle. Just yesterday you were SOOOO sure that man descended directly from chimps. I mean, it was basically an irrefutable fact. What's next? You're going to realize that the world is actually triangle shaped?
Guess what science, I know what the common ancestor is, his name is ADAM. Get back to me when you can actually prove something instead of asking us all to accept your stupid "theories."

In honor of Tori and Amy (or maybe just ripping them off)

After reflecting on all the empty promises I've received from friends to come and visit, I've decided to begin my own "Reasons to Come" blog. Except instead of creating a new blog, I'm going to use this one.

I do this for a few reasons. First, because I'm not really blogging about anything else right now. By the way Andy Mayfield already came, so he's my best friend now. (If any of you noticed the erroneous structure of this paragraph, then you should be informed that in Arizona it is grammatically correct to start lists without finishing or even continuing them, awesome? ya i know)

Reason #1

A bunch of guys you don't know playing poker in my living room. There's plenty more where this came from.

Sometimes Life is Just Really Cool

Things I like about real life (being around live people)
Last weekend was straight up fresh. For the first time in my life, I saw my beloved Green Bay Packers in person. I was as happy as school girl to see the starters (minus stud receiver Greg Jennings who was knocked out on the first play) flat out dominate the defending NFC champion Cardinals.
Don't get me wrong, I like the Cards, I mean, come on, their stadium is named after the place I work, but I can't betray my roots. I won't go on because I know not everyone reading this is into sports. (For those who are curious, I actually created a separate blog just so I could share my thoughts on the whole Brett Favre fiasco)
I finally got to see and hear Fun. Oh yeah, Sam Means was there just hanging out, and oh yeah, I went and talked to him and I'm pretty sure he liked my moustache.
Hmmm, so I'm usually a better writer than this, I'm becoming a little disenchanted with blogging, and Facebook. Don't get me wrong, I still like the idea of blogging, I just don't feel like I have as much time for it.

Things I don't like about fake life (Faceabook)
1- It used to be fun, and funny. Remember "Big Foot: Fact" and "Remind Dan McCartney that he is gay."? Remember taking over Brittany Mayhugh's notes until she got pissed and deleted them? Outside of groups and messages created by Ford Erickson, Facebook doesn't make me laugh much any more.
2- Wall posts were better than the comment threads they have now, 'nuff said. (I said it like that because it sounds tougher than "enough said.")
3- Status updates have gotten boring. Remember when they used to be funny or announce exciting events? I think about half the phrases on my home page on any given day will say something along the lines of "is home from the gym" or "just put the kids to sleep." Nobody cares.
4- Too many bells and whistles, I really miss the simplicity of the old days when wall posts used to count.
5- Old people who leave comments similar to this, "Traci, I bought some of your favorite apple cider -Mom." Ok mom, I think everyone knows that you were talking to Traci because your comment IS ON HER WALL, and you don't have to sign your comment because YOUR NAME APPEARS RIGHT ABOVE IT.
I'm not trying to sound anal or spread hate. The truth about facebook is that it has helped me to get girlfriends, so I can't truly despise it. For some reason girls respond better to electronic communication before the actual phone call.
This post wasn't even originally supposed to be about Facebook, but the real point is that I prefer face-to-face interaction, and if Facebook can help me get there, then I guess I'll use it. But if I had to choose between Facebook and day old soggy nachos . . . well, it would depend on how hungry I was.
Winner: Real Life

The Project Formerly Known as Manhattan

I miss going to live shows. Last night I went to this little cafe (the "e" should have a little accent over it, but whatever, I'm too lazy to take the 3 minutes it would require to figure out how to do that) and watched the most amazing live performance I've seen in a long time. While basking in the raw energy perpetuated from both the band and the crowd, I came to a few realizations:

1) I really like the feel of Main Street in Mesa. They had this really cool looking bookstore. I don't mean cool like Barnes & Noble new and hip type cool. I mean cool looking like the type of place you'd see in a movie

2) I haven't seen anyone rock as hard as Myke Olsen since my last To Russia concert. Seriously, I loved everything about the performance, and I can't believe how great they sounded live.

3) I wish I had friends here . . . correction, friend, acquaintance, anyone, who would enjoy going to this type of thing with me. I really like the friends I've made here, but there isn't a single one who would've taken me up on an invite to watch this performance. Going alone wasn't bad, but I kinda got the vibe that everyone in the crowd knew everyone else who was there, and I felt like a little bit of an outsider.

4) I haven't seen a show in way too long. I'm not a go to a musical performance every week kinda guy, but I'm definitely a go once a month type of guy. The problem is that nothing has come through since I've moved here. Ok, there's been Keith Urban and the Jonas Brothers and junk like that, and yeah Ben Kweller went to Tucson on a week night, but not a whole lot else.
I really think Nate Ruess hates me. I'm not even going to get into the Format show in Pocatello in December of 2006, (but I will strongly discourage anyone from ever considering playing in Guitars Unplugged) this is all about playing here with Manchester Orchestra the day of my brother's graduation.
Or playing like 17 tour dates in California with FREAKIN LIMBECK but not having the courtesy to make one stop in your home state. Well you know what? I'm over it. I made a road trip to Vegas a few weeks ago and it was the first time in at least two years that I drove more than 3 hours without listening to a single song from Dog Problems. Take that.

5) Let's go back to there not being any shows here. Seriously, they're doing a whole series of free concerts in Salt Lake City and I'm stuck with "SALIVA live at Tempe Marketplace."

. . . There's more, but if you're attention span is as short as mine, you probably quit reading around #2. So I'll end this post with the frustrating "to be continued . . ." phrase

How Many Roads Must a Man Walk Down?

Last Saturday my roommates and I decided we were going to do some manly things and watch the big UFC (Ultimate Fighting) event and eat wings. Turns out half of Arizona had the same idea and showing up an hour and a half early to any Buffalo Wild Wings restaurant just wasn't good enough.
So we ordered the event on pay-per-view and found the only Native New Yorker in the valley that wasn't showing the fight and would therefore still have tables available. We found a nice little family oriented establishment in Mesa and I watched as my roommates Josef and Travers each ordered 24 wings.
Not to be outdone I ordered myself the double bakers dozen and said "Let's do this." Actually I didn't really say that, but I thought it.
Between the conversation, observance of sports on the various tv's, and video poker we were playing, I was able to consume the first 24 without much effort.
When our waitress came out, Travis commented that he could easily eat 6 more. I said "Let's do it," (out loud this time) and so I placed my order for 6 more wings. Joe then ordered 7 more and Trav ordered an extra 8. I knew this game could go on for a while, so I coyly waited until the server was about to leave our table and then said, "oh, and can I get three more honey hot?" She nodded her head, quickly wrote it down and walked away before we started with our old games. The 2nd batch didn't go down as fast or as easy for me as the first 24. I was able to identify a few reasons.
1- This was the worst Native New Yorker we ever ate at, the wings tasted like they were maybe a little over cooked or something. I just know they weren't quite right.
2- 2 Diet Cherry Cokes and all the carrots and celery from the previous wings were squeezing out the available space in my stomach.
3- It took a while for the wings to come out, effectively breaking my rhythm and giving my body time to realize what was happening to it.

Despite these challenges, I finished the next 9 wings putting my consumption at an absurd total of 33. Knowing well that the most Travis had ever consumed was 38, I figured this might be my only shot to go beyond his accomplishments.
When our server returned, I asked for 6 more wings. Joe looked at me scornfully and said, "you're going to eat 39 wings . . . not 40?"
There are two things I refuse to do in this life. The first is cocaine, and the second is disappoint Joe Strickland. (Yes, that Joe Strickland) So I ordered 7 more wings.
My pace slowed down considerably as I was given more time between orders to let all the food in my stomach settle. The last 3 were completely miserable.
The only reason I finished was because Joe kept saying that he knew I wouldn't. What can I say, I'm a guy. We rise to the competition over completely stupid things. And for the first and only time in my life, I ate more than Travis and Joe. For one night, I was the big winner. And the next morning? . . . I was by far the biggest loser. Ugh

OBAMA?

From what I understand, some of you have heard a recycled form of this joke by now. Sorry for not blogging about it before it got to you, but here it is:

I had just moved to Arizona, a state superior to New Mexico in so many ways. I was shopping at Sam Walton's empire for a few basic things that every guy needs in order to make his apartment feel less like a campout.
As I stood in line with my roommate Joe, I noticed an odd situation taking place in front of me. There stood a lanky Caucasian Wal-Mart employee at the check out stand, with shoulder length, scraggly, dark-brown almost black hair. He had finished scanning all the items soon to be purchased by an African American lady who was accompanied by a few friends of the same race.
As the woman dug through her purse deciding which form of plastic to use in order to complete her purchase, the white man, eager to use the tool of casual conversation to kill time, pointed at the women and asked her a very simple question:


"OBAMA?"


. . .


The woman gave him a puzzled stare, which he must have taken as a signal for him to repeat his extremely pertinent question.


"Obama?"


. . .


"What?" the woman eventually replied, as the man behind the counter still held his finger in the air pointing in her direction.

"Barack Obama," he answered pushing his still-pointed finger forward and back with each syllable of the president's name.

. . .


"Huh?"

"O-BAM-A," came the reply as night worker continued to point his finger but this time moved it slower and more deliberately to match his speech pattern.

At this point my roommate Joe (who was standing in front of me in line) turned and pointed at me and asked, "John McCain?"

I had to turn away to muffle my laughter as I heard the earnest Wal-Mart employee, seeking to clarify his inquiry, state, "Your pin, Obama?"

"What are you talking about?" the black woman asked, her patience beginning to run a little thin.

The white man leaned forward, pointed directly at an ornament pinned on the lady's jacket and slowly said, "Your pin. Barack Obama."

At this point the woman finally caught on, and looked down at her pin which flamboyantly proclaimed the message "Yes We Did!"

Her long awaited reply came, as the tone of her voice changed from slightly annoyed to non-chalant. "No. Southwest Airlines."

The confusion cleared as everyone standing in the line realized that our friends in the travel industry must have done something they felt was pretty significant and passed out pins with the "Yes We Did!" tagline to celebrate.

I however, felt the misunderstood Wal-Mart checker had a legitimate question that went unanswered. So to compensate, whenever I see a darker skinned brother nearby, I make sure to point at him and ask the oh-so-important question posed on a fateful Monday night not so long ago:


"OBAMA?"


No one has really figured out how to respond yet.

Keep in Touch

So it's been almost two months since I've updated this. So here it is . . .








I'm alive

I Once Met a Blind Man With No Legs . . .

and he was not as lame as Twitter. Seriously, what do you get when you take Facebook and take away all the pictures, wall posts, birthday reminders and events? TA DA! Twitter! (Ok, you also take away all the groups, causes, bumper stickers, quizzes, and the millions of other applications that i never use, but i don't have to and it doesn't matter because they're there for the people that want them)

Way to be original Twitter. What they did is like taking a movie, and getting rid of the picture, and the words, and the trailers for new movies, and the snacks, and any cuddling with members of the opposite sex. So people just come in and pay 9 bones just to sit still and watch the local still advertisements that grace the screen before previews start. That is what Twitter is to Facebook, still advertisements. Oh, and you happened to sit where someone in the movie before you spilled their soda and it never got cleaned up, so your shoes are sticky for the rest of the night . . . and some stranger sitting uncomfortably close to you in the nearly empty theater ate Mexican food earlier that night and their gastrointestinal system is having a hard time handling it. Thanks for the date Twitter, you will not receive a kiss at my doorstep and I will ignore the rest of your phone calls and text messages for the rest of my life.

I usually don't post youtube videos in my blog, because I feel like this is a space for my thoughts, and not just thoughts that say "this is funny/awesome/looks good" . (I'm not saying it's wrong or that nobody should. I've enjoyed the videos that some of my friends have posted. I'm just saying for me, it doesn't feel right)

Anyway, I'm going to make an exception for this post, I don't know if everyone has already seen this video or not. Maybe it's already become more cliche than every girl under the age of 23 loving the Jonas Brothers, but still, I had to post this. It just made so much sense to me, I know with every fiber of my being (speaking of cliche) that this video is true.

New friends . . . sorta

This week I complete my training and get to start performing my actual job (pronounced yob, the "y" is soft in Arizonian). My training team has been one of the most interesting collections of people I have ever met. Half of them are currently serving in the military or have previously. The age range is from 24 to . . . I'm guessing early 50's. We have a former Hooters girl, a guy who was abused as a child and was homeless for a while, and a lady who was clinically dead, disconnected from all life support, and then came back to life.

I wish we took class pictures and signed yearbooks at the end of training.

Quote of the day: "This isn't rocket surgery people!"


Rocket surgery?

This place kicks AZ

A few things I like so far:

We always get attractive female waitresses as our servers whenever we eat out, especially at Wings Tuesday. In Rexburg we would always get the only dude working in the entire place or the married pregnant lady.

Weather: 80's during the day, 50-60 late at at night.

The complimentary bottled water in our gym, which we go grab even when we have no plans to go to the gym.

24 hour pool and spa

Having a job and getting a paycheck, and benefits.

Ok, this is a pretty short list. I'll post about something more interesting next time.

The Land of the Winged Buffalo

I happen to love wings.
The food.
Not the 90's sitcom starring Tim Daly, Steven Weber and Crystal Bernard.
Or the band formed by Paul McCartney after the unfortunate break up of the Beatles.
Last night, my new roommates and I ate at a place called Native New Yorker. Every Tuesday night they serve wings for 35 cents apiece!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had 12 wings, 3 asiago parmesan, 3 pineapple teriyaki, 3 honey hot and 3 oriental garlic. My roommate Travis then ordered 24 wings of 4 different varieties.
In the spirit of competition, my roommate Joe then ordered 27 wings, 18 of one type, 9 of a different type. Right before the waitress finished with our order, Travis ordered 6 more wings just to spite Joe.
While enjoying the food and atmosphere (multiple tv's featuring sporting events) we saw a flyer that would bring Joe fame and fortune. WING EATING CONTEST, MARCH 10!
Long story short, Joe entered, ate approximately 58 wings in 11 minutes and came out with a narrow victory. That's right, I'm rooming with the Wing Eating Champion for the city of Tempe. He'll be competing in the regional championship in October.
On an unrelated note, let's talk about sex.
Not the act, but the gender.
Apparently it's sexist to use words that used to be common. Following are a few examples of outdated sexist words, followed by their now politically correct replacement:

Chairman (chairperson)
fireman (firefighter)
mailman (postal worker)
policeman (police officer)
salesman (salesperson)
weatherman (meterologist)
workman (laborer)
mankind (humans)

Here's what I don't get, isn't huMANS just as sexist as MANkind? Shouldn't it be hupeople? (huPEOPLE) Just a thought.

On the Road Again

Utah: I successfully avoided Toby Keith and all yellow hummers looking to destroy me. I nearly destroyed myself swerving at 80 mph to avoid a white rabbit that stupidly hopped out in front of me somewhere around Tremonton.

Southern Utah: I stayed with my Grandpa in St. George. We went to an all you can eat breakfast with a bunch senior citizens, it was awesome. Elderly people have such good stories and are so funny.

California: If you are ever insanely bored, take a trip on the US 95 along the California/Arizona border. You will see a sign that says "Dips" and suddenly the highway turns into a roller coaster. I thought about speeding up to around 100 mph and trying to jump the bumps, but decided I love my car too much to subject it to that.

Arizona: I live down the street from Waffle House, didn't know they had those in states where people were never allowed to own slaves. Holler. We ate at a Brazilian grill to celebrate our super bad apartment and our jobs. I feel justified in eating 300 lbs of meat because I saved a rabbit's life a few days earlier.

I ate at a Taco Bell somewhere in the middle of the desert and it was gross. I don't think I'll ever eat at another Taco Bell outside of Rexburg ever again. I don't know how this whole post ended up being about food. Actually I do, it's because I like to eat. I'm good at it.

I can't believe smell you later replaced goodbye

Hey everybody, I'm moving to Arizona. I didn't know who to tell or how to tell, so here it is.

What's in a Nam Anyway?

One thing I've learned in life is that people are perceptive to different things. Some people remember what certain people wore on certain days, some people notice when other people get haircuts, and then there is me. I happen to notice how people spell their names. For some people I guess this just isn't important.
Allow me to elaborate with a common example. I'm at some social gathering and I get a girl's phone number. Then she says something to the effect of "omg, lol, text me, ok? ttyl!"
So I send her a text message within the next day or two that says "Hey (Ashley, Brittany, Megan, Rachel), this is Quinn. What are you doing (tomorrow, wednesday, this weekend, etc.) Do you wanna to (go snowboarding, skydiving, backpacking through europe) with me?"
Then I get the response, "hey quin! totes def i wanna (watch paint dry, see you try to learn how to use a yo-yo, watch the NFL draft) with you!"
Come on, seriously?
I cannot even count how many times this has happened, but probably twice.
On other occassions, I've had people write on my Facebook wall: "yo quin! what's up?"
What's up? Oh not much, just my name, spelled correctly, listed right above your wall post. I'm sorry for making things so difficult.
I know, I know, the second "n" is silent. It shouldn't even be there.
On a side note, for anyone interested, I'm going to take a wak over to the wel on the hil later today. We may tos a bal around, and stay the night at the Holiday In.
I've known a few Quinn's in my life, and none of them spell it with one "n."
I typed "Quin" in a facebook search, and in the first 11 or 12 pages, there were only two or three people who had the name "Quin" and the rest were all "Quinn." I got bored of looking after that, but I can promise you that the three dudes named "Quin" either have parents who also happen to be brother and sister, or they are using "Quin" as an abbreviation for Quinton (Quinten) or Quincy.
I even took it a step farther and looked up the origin of my name on Google. It's Irish and was derived from O' Quinn, which came from O' Cuinn, which means "descendant of Quinn." Cuinn, by the way, is a form of Conn. What's the common denominator here? THE SILENT "N!"
Still have your doubts? Ask Bob Dylan, or Denzel Washington.
Oh, I also typed in "history of the name quin" in google. And the first thing google did was ask me, "Did you mean history of the name QUINN?"
YES!
Of course I did! Quin isn't even a real name! Oh wait, here's the history of it . . . "a variant of the name QUINN!"
That means Quin with one "n" is to names what the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is to religion. Have fun practicing polygamy and raping teenage girls Quin with one "n," but please don't impede my pursuit of becoming a more caring, loving, serving person.
I know at this point most of you are thinking, "ok, we get it calm down."
And I'm just waiting for all your clever comments on this post that start with something like "hey quin! blah blah blah blah blah." Well let me save myself some time and acknowledge your wittiness right now.
The truth is I don't really care that much, I wrote this post for your entertainment. There are a lot worse things than forgetting how to spell someone's name, like forgetting someone's name altogether. Chances are, I probably forgot your name after the first time we met . . . and the second time . . . and the third time, but I usually get it by the fourth time.

He Without Sin Cast the First Stone

I recently had some surprise encounters with a few women whose line of work varies from the food and call center industries that dominate the college town in which I reside. For those of you who are not familiar with my boredom induced entry into the online dating world over last Christmas break, please refer to the following post:

Where did everybody go?

Basically I created a profile on every dating site I could find and then didn't do anything else because every site charges you to interact with people. To avoid spam, I set up a fake email account on yahoo to register with each service.
As expected, my inbox is bombarded with dozens of messages every day. I mostly ignore and delete these messages, but one day I noticed that I had been contacted by some brilliant women who were able to disguise their Yahoo chat i.d. in their online dating profile by creating a name like:

my_yahu_id_is_kate32_adme_on_mesunger

The idea struck me as sheer genius! Sure some website administrator would probably soon discover their trickery and eventually delete their profiles, but in the meantime they had fooled the system and were able to get in contact with a multitude of guys without paying a dime to the dating service.
My curiosity soon got the best of me and I created a yahoo messenger account to communicate with these unbelievably intelligent women. Upon logging on to yahoo messenger for the first time, the following conversation took place:

Cherry Caprice: Hey babe
Me: Um, hi, do I know you?
Cherry Caprice: Not yet, do you wanna see me naked?
Me: What? Are you always this forward with guys?
Cherry Caprice: I gotta be honest with you, I'm a webcam model.
Me: Noooooooooooo! (I didn't type this in the chat box, I just screamed it out loud)

I immediately logged off and deleted Cherry Caprice from my list of chat friends. She wasn't a savvy online dater, she was just a smart stripper finding unique ways to add to her clientele!
I had been duped.
Were all my new yahoo chat friends porn stars?
Was I so foolish?
My next course of action was to terminate all association with these strange women, and distancing myself from yahoo messenger forever. Then the words of music revolutionist Wyclef Jean came to mind.

"Just cuz she dances go-go, that don't make her a ho, no."

I realized that shunning those whose lifestyles do not reflect my morals is not necessarily the best course of action. I could befriend others without taking part in activities that I have no desire to be a part of.

A few days later I boldly logged on to Yahoo messenger again. This time determined to demonstrate a pure love toward my unknown sisters, and show them that not every relationship they develop has to be based on lustful encounters.

I was only logged on a few seconds before being approached by another girl:

Lhea Lovely: Hey sweetie
Me: Hi pookie face!
Lhea Lovely: How are you?
Me: Superb, thanks for asking. How are you?
Lhea Lovely: I'm bored, you wanna have some fun?
Me: Sure do, I noticed they have a games tab on the chat box. We can play checkers, chess, or backgammon against each other online!
Lhea Lovely: Or you could watch me shake my booty
Me: You sure don't mess around, do you?
Lhea Lovely: Do you have any pics?
Me: Yes, but I've been talking to you for like 3 minutes. How do I know that you're the pretty face in the profile picture you've posted, and not some 40 year old gay male rapist?
Lhea Lovely: Hmmm, do you have a webcam?
Me: Nope, sorry
Lhea Lovely: Ok, I have to be honest with you. I'm a webcam model, if you register on my link, then you can watch me get naked.
Me: Oh, I see. Sorry, I'm not into porn.
Lhea Lovely: It's not porn babe
Me: How is you getting naked not porn?
Lhea Lovely: Because you come into my room and I do whatever you tell me to, it's just you and me.
Me: That's still not how I prefer to interact with women.
Lhea Lovely: Well what do you prefer?
Me: Meet at a social gathering, I get the phone number, text after a two or three days and meet up for lunch, then if things go well, we go from there.
Lhea Lovely: I see, we can totally meet up. I just need you to get on my link babe.
Me: I told you I'm not going to do that
Lhea: It's just so we can talk
Me: Aren't we doing that right now? When are we meeting up?
Lhea: We'll talk about it when you register on my site
Me: You're a good salesperson
Lhea: So are you going to do it?
Me: How old are you?
Lhea: 19
Me: I think I'm out of your league. I'm at least 23, probably a few years older
Lhea: C'mon hun, just register on my site.
Me: Do you wanna get married?
Lhea: It depends
Me: On what?
Lhea: If you can take care of me
Me: Oh that wasn't an offer, just a question. I was just wondering if you were interested in someday marrying someone, I don't know you nearly well enough to propose.
Lhea: We'll be able to get to know each other better on my site, and then we'll hook up in person.
Me: How do you know you want to hook up with me in person?
Lhea: Cuz I know you're a good guy babe.
Me: No you don't. I'm a 60 yr. old one-eyed midget that murders anyone who looks at me the wrong way
Lhea: I see
Me: No you don't, I don't even have any pictures of me up.
Lhea: Ok
Me: I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so rude. I'm trying to be your friend.
Lhea: Ok
Me: Great! Well I gotta go, keep in touch best friend!

What was he thinking? (this one isn't funny)

I'm going to save you all some time right now and tell you that you should not feel obligated to read this post. It is not entertaining, thought provoking, or even very interesting. I just needed to tell somebody this at the time I saw it, but didn't have anyone to tell, so I figured I'd just type it all.
A certain status popped up on my Facebook homepage tonight, and it was . . . well, shocking.
Before I get into it, I should share a little information on the guy who posted it. I'll call him T, to protect his real identity. T has Asperger syndrome, which basically means the part of his brain which controls social interaction cannot develop physically.
T is a genius when it comes to math, you can walk up to him and tell him your birth date and he can tell you how many months, weeks, days, hours, or even minutes old you are just by mumbling to himself for a few seconds. For all the superior intelligence he displays in the field of math, T does not communicate well with others.
In order to avoid exposing the people involved in this conversation, I'm going to represent each of them with a letter.

T: is the 1st nigger president was sworn in office today.
K: JUS iGNORANT.
T: I don't really understand anyone's culture even my own, but I don't trust this man like about every other politician out there. I really don't care about the race of president, only their philosophy.
D: dont throw around racial slurs then
T: Writters Joseph Conrad, Mark Twain, and Charles Dickens used the N word.
D: its 2009 t
K: WELL... i DONT APPRECiATE YOU USiNG THE WORD RiGHT ALONG Wit THE WRiTERS THAT YOU HAVE NAMED. iT MAKES NO SENSE FOR YOU TO SAY THiNGS LiKE THAT REGARDLESS OF YOUR POSiTiON iN SOCiETY.
T: Bible was written way before 2009.
T: Nigger is another word for black, like queer is another word for a gay person. Nigger is a synonym for a black person.
K: i SAY JUS BE MiNDFUL OF THE THiNGS THAT YOU WRiTE ON HERE.... REALLY AND TRULY iTS TRUE... iTS YOUR OPiNiON BUT NOT ONLY OUT OF RESPECT TO THE NOW PRESiDENT OBAMA...BUT TO THiS COUNTRY THAT HE iS NOW iN CHARGE OF LEADiNG ALSO. THERE iS NO WAY YOU CAN CHANGE WHAT HAPPEN TODAY....iT WAS GOD'S WiLL...WHiCH iS VERY iMPOSSiBLE TO ALTER. SO LOVE iT OR HATE iT...iT iS DONE. OUR PRESIDENT iS BLACK.
K: iF NiGGER iS ANOTHER WORD FOR BEiNG BLACK....i DARE YOU TO GO TO THE NEAREST HBCU AND YELL NiGGER ON THERE CAMPUS AND SEE iF YOU GET THE SAME YOU RESPONSE AS TO CALLiN A GAY QUEER... NO MY FRiEND THAT iS BEGGiNG FOR A BEAT DOWN... NO EXCUSE NEEDED.
T: This message board is going in circles now, so lets close this subject. I will respect the president with honor. I just like to make outlandish comments every once in a while, it just amuses me to see how people react.
C: you really should be careful about what you say T
T: I make outlandish comments quite a bit about everything. I've said things a lot worse, not about race, but other stuff. There times that I hate the world a lot, and I don't think anyone out there really understands me. I have thought about suicide several times.
C: There are people out there T that will understand you if you need that. You can feel the way you feel, you have that right but it doesnt necessarily need to be announced on facebook

It is unfair to read T's comments and automatically label him as a bigot because of his mental condition. At the same time I cannot help but wonder what influences cause him to feel the way he does. I have not interacted with T much in the last 4 or 5 years, but that whole sequence of comments concerned. I am not in a position where an intervention on my part would do any good, it just seemed odd for anyone to post comments like those in a public forum like the Facebook.

Welcome to the Rest of your Life

So I never thought I'd grow up so fast. For the first time since graduating high school I've realized that the next job I take I'll probably have to commit to for more than 4 months, and I'll have to commit to living in the city I work in. Suddenly packing up and moving to New Jersey or California or Utah does not have the appeal it used to.

So I'm trying to decide between the following careers:

Rock Star

Cage fighter

Food taster

Superhero

President of the United States of America

Professional Athlete

Actor who kisses Natalie Portman in a movie, or Shakira in a music video (I'm not really into any other celebrities)

Maybe I could do all of them?

Things I'm lacking:

Rock Star: Ability to write good music

Cage Fighter: Strength (I haven't worked out since high school)

Food Taster: Ability to dislike any edible item I put in my mouth and therefore give a good evaluatioin

Superhero: Oh boy, well I wasn't born out of any type of tragedy, and I haven't played in toxic chemicals that cause me no harm, but alter my genes to give me special powers

President of the United States: Hmmm, this is probably the easiest one. President it is, now who do I pick as running mate?

Professional Athlete: Been there done that . . . what? No one else got paid for playing on the Golden Climax flag football team?

Actor: Whatever, if I do all these other things I can just date Natalie Portman until I'm middle-aged and our relationship can't stand up to the constant spotlight. Then I'll date the hottest 20-something-year-old former Disney star who makes Miley Cyrus look crazy, old, and washed up.

Also, since I'm famous I can start new trends. I will personally bring back the golden era of moustaches. I'm also going to make sombreros the next big thing, but mostly for rappers. They're going to take the place of big, golden, diamond-laced necklaces.

Why you are never going to get married, EVER

I went to the yahoo homepage to check up on my college pick 'em score today and I noticed this featured article. Usually I ignore the romance/dating articles, but I thought this one, that promised to share "secrets that no one will ever tell you even under extreme torture" might be interesting. I was hoping for something juicy, like "100% of couples who don't get divorced spend at least one day entirely naked once a year for the 1st 5 years of marriage."

I was extremely disappointed when the article didn't contain any dramatic revelations. It's actually kinda boring and I tuned out and quit reading it about half way through. But I really liked the first few paragraphs. HERE'S WHY:

Outside of the BYU-Idaho track system, I strongly believe that chick flicks and Disney are the major factors preventing us (single people) from dating more and experiencing satisfying relationships.




Here's what I've learned about real life, IT BITES. Either we live in a monotonous routine because we are afraid to leave our comfort zone and break habits, or we take our chances and end up experiencing 1000 times as much failure as we do success. I've found that what makes me happy is taking those chances, hoping to succeed, but knowing that I'll be just fine if I fail.

My experience has been that failure makes for a better story than success as long as you can laugh about it afterward. Too often I think people will hold on to the pain of failure because they feel like it is an excuse to fall back into the same routine, where they feel safe and secure (and more often than not, bored out of their mind)

The stories I like to hear usually have a surprise, like someone trying to get intimate and then getting a bloody nose. Or the guy/girl who you thought was perfect giving you a peck on the cheek, then immediately howling at the moon, causing you to give them an abrupt slap that leaves a hand print on his/her face for 3 days.

To me, that is so much more entertaining than sappy fantasy where you're walking through a field of roses where there happens to be a string quartet playing every note perfectly as you gaze into each others eyes and fireworks go off . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The truth is that for most people, their first kiss was not their best kiss, most dates are kinda awkward, and most relationships you enter into cause you to question your own judgement. SO WHAT?

As I see it, you have two options:
1: Quit worrying about personal hygiene so people know you have been abused and live the rest of your life in bitterness swearing to never care about anyone ever again.
2: Take a day or two to whine and complain and cry if you need to, and then move on, quickly. And do it for your own happiness, not to spite the person who wronged you.

You are better off learning to laugh at yourself, so that you don't feel as stupid when everyone who else hears about it laughs also.

Agree? Disagree?