Still Holding Strong

I like to think I'm a man of commitment and integrity. When I say I'm going to do something, I make an effort to follow through and do it.

I was recently put to the test.

In order to alleviate boredom when things get slow on a weekend shift at work, we change the channel on a couple of the TVs in the office to watch football, movies, etc. A week ago, during a particularly slow Sunday shift, my shiftmates decided to watch Titanic on TNT. I suppose this isn't anything extraordinary, considering the movie grossed more than the GDP of most African countries.

However, I promised myself long ago that I would never watch this movie, because I loathe it like Seinfeld loathes Newman. It's weaselly. It thinks more highly of itself than it should. And it keeps showing up at my door, wanting attention that I don't want to give it.

You know the opening 30-minutes of Saving Private Ryan? And how you as the viewer are completely drawn in, your eyes glued to the screen because you are entirely engulfed by the brutal reality of it all? Titanic is the antithesis of Saving Private Ryan for me. I'm repulsed by it. Somewhere between Kate Winslett getting naked and a love story crammed with more cliches than a "Grey's Anatomy" script, I developed a less-than-zero desire to see this movie.

And so when faced with the choice of watching Titanic or 4+ hours of boredom (the commercials for movies on TV are ridiculous), I chose boredom. At least I kept my integrity.

But seriously, that ship took forever to go down. I kept looking up at the TV, hoping the movie would be over. It kept dragging on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wipe up the venom I just drooled all over my keyboard.

Read more...

Inside Jokes

In college, roommates are a roll of the dice. They can become best friends because you share all kinds of experiences with each other -- shooting ducks with paintball guns, playing Mariokart until 3am -- just to name a few. The flip side to that, of course, is you can end up getting your own personal Newman.

Aside from a roommate who had a semi- to completely disturbing obsession for "That 70s Show" -- the irony of this was his uncanny resemblance to the Fez character in the show* -- I was incredibly lucky. My college roommates are still my best friends. We laugh and reminisce about experiences, and still share those inside jokes/handshakes/greetings that bond us together and annoy outsiders.

Here's one inside greeting that never really panned out.

A few years ago, one roommate, Tim, was telling me about how his dad meets with some Japanese businessmen at a big meeting every year. At the end of the meeting, his dad always asks the businessmen where they want to go eat, and they always yell in Engrish "Fuh-wuckas!!!" (Fuddrucker's). It was a funny story, and we both had a good laugh.

Me: "Oh man, that's funny..."
Tim: "...yeah... Hey, we should do that."
Me: "Yeah, sure... Wait, do what?"
Tim: "We should yell that to each other as like a greeting when we see each other on campus or walking home or whatever."
**Substantial Pause**
Me: "You mean yell 'Fuh-wuckas!!!' really loud? When other people are around?"
Tim: "Yeah. C'mon, it'll be sweet."
Me: "OK. Fine." (my common sense had apparently decided to check out at this point)

A few days later, I spotted Tim on my way home from campus about 50 yards ahead of me. I looked around, hoping that no one was around, but had no such luck. Oh well. "Fuh-wuckas!!!" I yelled. Tim continued walking; everyone else in the vicinity turned to stare at the crazy Asian yelling weird phrases.

He is up there a ways; maybe he didn't hear me, I thought. . "Fuh-wuckas!!!" I yelled again. Nothing from Tim. People around me started taking out their cell phones to text their friends about the kid with Turret's that just walked by.

I got to the apartment and walked in to see Tim sitting on the couch, pretending to watch TV while trying to shield his face from looking at me. I held out my hands as an appeal for explanation. Tim continued to try to ignore me. "Timmy, what was that?? Did you not hear me? I bet our neighbors have called the mental hospital to tell them one of their crazies escaped."

"I'm sorry, dude. I was too embarrassed. I just couldn't bring myself to turn around or reply."

"Wasn't this thing your idea?"

"Yeah... again, sorry."

The betrayal was akin to Caeser being stabbed in the back by Brutus.

*So much so that my other roommate, White Josh, accidentally called him "Fez" to his face a few times.

Read more...

Mr T Motivates -- Photo of the Week 10 Nov 2008

Got a pretty good response to the last motivational poster I posted. I enjoyed this one.

Also, I'm tired and didn't have time to find much else. Apologies.

Read more...

My Bridge Day Adventure

After missing the Elton John Concert, my friends and I continued, albeit despondently, to "Bridge Day" in Fayetteville, WV. Bridge Day is the one day a year that base-jumping is legalized in West Virginia and 200,000 people of lesser courage (ie myself) watch others of greater courage (also read: "lesser sanity," "greater testicular fortitude," or "inferior common sense") throw themselves off of an 876 ft bridge and let gravity and a parachute take care of the rest.

These guys jumped for hours and we just watched. You would think the redundancy of watching people jump off the same bridge would get old after awhile. But it didn't. It's like watching "24": If you've seen one season of Jack Bauer escaping captivity, defying authority for the greater good, torturing some bad guys, getting angry and snarling/yelling out some intimidating lines, sabotaging his personal relationships because of his maladjustment to societal norms (see the afore-listed items for reasons why), etc, you feel like you've seen all of the seasons of "24" (because in essence, you HAVE). But you still keep watching -- despite the repetition and predictability.

The day was interspersed with me shooting the fall foliage (I still feel effeminate using that wording), and the abundance of material for people-watching. WV is an absolute GOLD-MINE for this, and my one regret (besides letting my friends purchase two sausage biscuits for $1.50 at a roadside cafe) is not doing an extensive photo essay on the people we saw. Think men with braided beards down to their stomachs; think men with short cut-off jean shorts sporting rainbow lanyards; think my name next to "Pulitzer." It would have been timeless.

Then again, I guess I shouldn't say too much about people-watching -- these three were my travel companions:



We got bored walking the trail from the river back to the bridge, so we had a leaf catching competition. It got intense. The slideshow below does a good job of capturing it.



But back to manly things. Base-jumping. It is steadily gaining popularity, but definitely outside of the mainstream sports we have in America. I think if the organizers created some traditions -- something that we love about our sports here -- base jumping would catch on a little faster. Here are some ideas I have:

• (More) Drunk Fans: I don't think this one needs to be explained.
  
• Ceremonial first "toss" from the mayor: Baseball has someone famous throw out the ceremonial first pitch to open games. Why don't they have the mayor of Fayetteville ceremoniously push the first base-jumper off of the platform, just to get things started? Or toss a base-jumper midget...? This one may need refinement.
  
• Fantasy Leagues: No other phenomenon than Fantasy Leagues has so many people supporting teams and players they would otherwise have been indifferent to. Don't ask me how the scoring would work for a Base-Jumping Fantasy League. I'm just throwing out ideas here.
• Streakers: The occasional streaker never hurt any spectator sport.
• Overpriced Food: Overpaying for unhealthy food is an American sports tradition. The vendors at Bridge Day were selling unhealthy food, but it was way too reasonably priced. This needs to change.
• Costumes: Uncle Sam (below) had it right. Patriotic, tacky.
  

Read more...

My Public Defacement -- Photo of the Week 3 Nov 2008

...and clear, runaway leader for Photo of the Year, I might add.

Context: This photo was sent to my sister by her friends who were riding the University of Utah line of TRAX (public transpo system in Utah). Click the photo to get a larger view.

The humiliation. The crushing blow to my self-image. The instant I saw this I collapsed and pulled a Nancy Kerrigan: "Whyyy?!? Whyyyyyyy?!?" I wouldn't be surprised if Tonya Harding herself -- who happened to be riding the TRAX, was consumed by jealousy of my celebrity amongst the narrow BYU Independent Study-demographic -- hired Jeff Gillooly to do the job with a permanent sharpie.

I'll tell you why I find this offensive and reprehensible. First of all, my mustache doesn't grow like that: We all know it would never get that long. Second, I'm offended that the person didn't draw in a Fu Manchu beard. Where's the racial stereotyping? Why did they see fit to give me a creepy cowboy mustache from the 19th century? If they chose to go that route, they could have at least put in the extra effort and drawn in a hat, a trenchcoat and me brandishing some six-shooters. I'm deeply offended.

"I'm sorry, I can't be your huckleberry."
I think what hurts the most is that if someone would
have put in a little more effort, I could have
been running with Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer. Lame.

But in all honesty, this picture makes me laugh every time I see or think about it. I hope to get back to Utah soon so I can dress in the same shirt, take a textbook with me, and sit right next to the poster for like an hour. Just to see if people notice.

Thanks to Jenny and Steve for their vigilance against defamation and vandalism.

Read more...