Bling

One of my earliest memories is when my family had our picture taken at the Pioneer Village of Lagoon. There was some picture studio there that would let you dress up in old clothes and get your black and white picture taken in front of some saloon backdrop of some kind so that the picture looked like an old tin type. Well, my memory of the occasion was getting dressed up in my cowboy stuff first and then being left alone while the rest of the family retreated into the dressing rooms to step into their spurs and strap on their bonnets. Being left alone, I of course began to cry. Someone that worked there gave me a little toy pistol to shut me up. And boy, did it work! I thought that thing was about the coolest thing I had ever seen. Cocking back the hammer and pulling the trigger kept me occupied for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, a gigantic frying pan of a human hand obstructed the view of the toy I was playing with. Shortly after that the picture must have been taken, because the old family photo that still sits in my mom’s house shows me sitting in my dad’s lap with him covering up my hands (and indeed half of my body) with his own face down palm.

Nine years ago now, my father gave me a ring that he made out of his old Smoke Jumper pin. I remember holding it in my palm, turning it over and over in my fingers, and finding it to be as impressive then as I had found that little toy gun to be when I was a child. I tried to put it on and was shocked to see that it wouldn’t fit on any of my fingers. It would easily slip off of even my thumb. I was reminded of how big this guy once was and was thrilled at the gesture, but because I couldn’t wear it as anything but maybe a bracelet, I was forced to just store it. Well, I’ve finally gotten around to resizing it so I can wear it. They were able to fit a second silver ring inside of my dad’s ring and somehow meld the two to make it just the right size to fit on my middle finger. It took the jeweler two and a half months to complete, (not because it was difficult, but just because they were slow) but it was worth the wait. I think it is cool, way cool.

My Music Library

The top 30 played songs in my I-Tunes Library are:

1. Time Consumer – Coheed & Cambria
2. Speedway – Counting Crows
3. Subterranean Homesick Alien – Radiohead
4. Delirium Trigger – Coheed & Cambria
5. Everything Evil – Coheed & Cambria
6. #41 – Dave Matthews Band
7. As Lovers Go – Dashboard Confessional
8. Mr. Jones – Counting Crows
9. Amy Hit the Atmosphere – Counting Crows
10. The Rain Song – Led Zeppelin
11. Karma Police – Radiohead
12. That’s the Way – Led Zeppelin
13. The Bends – Radiohead
14. Fake Plastic Trees – Radiohead
15. New Slang – The Shins
16. H – Tool
17. Blood Red Summer – Coheed & Cambria
18. D’yer Mak’er – Led Zeppelin
19. Ten Years Gone – Led Zeppelin
20. Round Here – Counting Crows
21. High and Dry – Radiohead
22. Red House – Jimi Hendrix
23. Custard Pie – Led Zeppelin
24. Such Great Heights – The Postal Service
25. 33 – Coheed & Cambria
26. Pictures of You – The Cure
27. Tangerine – Led Zeppelin
28. Bullet Proof – Radiohead
29. Bron-Y- Aur Stomp – Led Zeppelin
30. Kid A - Radiohead

I'm kind of suprised by the results. Some songs made the list that I didn't think would and some that I thought would that didn't.

Trouble with Jars

The guy that sits in the cubicle next to mine at work is one of the top two power lifters in the world for his weight class. Power lifters do only three lifts; the bench press, the squat, and lifting weight from the ground to the height of your waist (whatever that one’s called). He’s not a big guy, probably under six feet in height and only 180 lbs, but he can throw around mass like a fat guy just off a diet throws around bon bons. It’s amazing.

This morning, a lady that we work with turned her chair over to fix a broken wheel. She asked me to help her take off the old wheel so that she could replace it with the new one. I tried to get it off, but thought that there was no way it would actually come off without some special tool to trigger a release of some sort. But I had an idea. I would see if the power lifter who sits next to me could help. He came in and, after looking at the wheel for a moment, popped it right off like a cherry stem.

I was embarrassed. I’ve become “that” guy who, like a little girl, needs help opening his own mayonnaise jars.

Deer in the Headlights

My roommate and his sister recently decided to start a dinner group so that a few people could get together once or twice a month to have dinner and try out new places to eat throughout the city that no one has tried before. I like trying new places to eat and I think it was a great idea. Last night was the first time we got together and we ate at this Middle Eastern place on 9th and 9th called Mazza. It was different, but I liked it.

I also had a blind date that I needed to take care of (not Tony Soprano “take care of”, but just get around to taking out), so I invited (let’s call her) Whatshername to come to our dinner group to kill two birds with one stone. Whatshername was a good sport and agreed to come.

As Roommate and I got to the restaurant, we found Whatshername standing outside waiting for us. (I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I did offer to pick her up, but she preferred to meet us at the restaurant.) The three of us were the first ones there, so we decided to get seated while we waited for the others to show up. We perused the menu for a few moments and soon my roommate’s sister and brother-in-law showed up. In an attempt to be courteous, I said, “Sister and Brother-in-Law, this is Whosherface. Whosherface, this is Sister and Brother-in-Law”. To which Sister and Brother-in-Law respond, “Nice to meet you”, and to which she replies, “It’s nice to meet you too, but my name is actually Whatshername”. After a moment of that deer-in-the-headlights look, my eyes widened in terror at the realization that I got her name wrong. I turned to try to apologize to Whatshername as Roommate falls over on his side in laughter, Brother-in-Law almost falls off his chair roaring, and Sister turns red as she tries her best to hold it in. I made it through as far as “I’m s-“, before beginning to crack up myself.

She was kind enough to laugh it off and not take offense. Still though, it was hilarious. This wasn’t the first time I’ve forgotten my date’s name, but it was the first time I’ve introduced my date using the wrong name. The first one is much better, because you can actually get through a night without having to say someone’s name, unless you have to introduce them to the crowd. And then it is worse, because the whole crowd is there to witness your blunder.

The best part of blind dates is being able to tell people about the train wreck afterwards.

Snap Crackle Pop

I’m currently reading a novel (Wizard & Glass) in which a young girl is forcefully put into a relationship with an older man and one of the things she despises about this older man is his popping knuckles and creaking joints. And I can’t help but wonder if girls really get that minuscule in their analysis to list popping knuckles on the con side of their prospective suitor t-charts; probably so. If guys do, then girls would too. After all, my left knee pops to the rhythm when I walk down the hall. And all this time I thought I was losing out with the girls because of my bad hair, donated wardrobe, slouching posture, and my upper lip that quivers like a slab of bacon on a hot griddle when I’m forced to talk about my feelings. {sigh} Add my popping joints to the list.