Bowling Class

Easily my favorite class at BYU has been bowling. I started as a straight-throwing gutterballer, and ended as a curve-throwing gutterballer. 

Here are my stats for this past semester, consisting of 60 games of bowling:

Strikes: 79

2 Strikes in a Row: 12

Turkeys: 1!!!

Spares: 100

Gutter Balls: 169

Average Score: 99

High Score: 143

Low Score: 55

Bowling a turkey (3 strikes in a row) could only be compared with winning the lottery, wearing a snuggie, or the joy of holding your newborn baby. Bliss.

I may have discovered in myself a bowler. 

Blast from the Past: Flies and Milk

When I was 17 years old I had the opportunity to spend the summer in France. 

One hungry morning I sat down to breakfast with the host mom I was staying with. To make me feel at home, they had bought some delicious chocolate cereal.

I poured a heaping bowl and eyed it wolfishly. I got from the cupboard a liter of milk (as the milk in France is ultrapasteurized, making it unnecessary to refrigerate) and dumped it in. 

As it cascaded out of the carton, there was a loud and distinct "PLOP" in my milk.

Fishing in my bowl, I discovered the biggest, hairiest fly to have ever lived. This creature could have eaten a butterfly without a problem. And it was lying there in my bowl of delicious cereal.

The host mom, rather stern, saw my predicament and merely scolded me on. As the culture demands, food is not to be wasted and I was expected to eat my generous serving.

I picked the beast out, placing it next to my bowl. I can still picture it - swamped in its own little puddle of ultrapasteurized milk. I painstakingly ate that giant bowl of cereal with the room-temperature milk, eying the fly the entire time.

Then the impossible happened about two-thirds of the way through the bowl:

     The fly got up, shook off, and flew away. 

Needless to say I did not finish the rest of my cereal that morning. 

Pomade

I flew home for my twin brother's wedding, and completely spaced bringing any gel for my hair. 

So I'm in the bathroom getting ready for the wedding, and found some really fancy pomade by Lancôme. Sitting in a sleek, solid black container, the pomade smelled like pheromones and screamed luxury. 

Rubbing it in my hair was a pleasure. I could feel it moisturizing and holding my hair in place. The hair looked great, and I went through the wedding festivities without hassle.

I stayed home a couple more days, using the fancy pomade each morning. 

My last day there, I decided to examine the pomade so I could purchase some for myself. It was hard to read, as the bottle was so dark and Lancôme written so prominently. Then on the very bottom I found the name:

Lancôme Anti-Wrinkle Cream. 

Great. I had been using anti-wrinkle cream to do my hair. Turns out it works pretty well.

Picture from the happy day. The anti-wrinkle cream definitely gave some shape to my hair.

Denim Eulogy

I survived the week without jeans...barely. It's a lot harder than one would think. In fact, I wrote a eulogy when I was at my lowest point: 

Denim was the lifeblood of the modernized world. It lived in every closet, was worn on every set of legs, and happily changed with trends from bell-bottoms to skinnies. It stood as a symbol of power and causality. To every American, its death is the downfall of comfort, style, and practicality. 

I think we all remember well when we first met denim.  It was warm and inviting and seemed to fit just right. Denim was with us throughout the years.  It was there with big pockets when we thought we needed them. It stood by faithfully as we turned our backs and experimented with cargo pants. It never complained when we asked it to be a lighter wash, or a fuller leg. It let us rip holes into it because we thought it would be cooler and it even let us wash it with a little bit of acid.

What will we wear on casual Fridays? What will we wear with our boots with the fur?  Its loss shall be felt not only in our hearts but on our legs.

As the great Neil Diamond once said, “I’d much rather be, forever in blue jeans.”

This exemplifies my garb during the jeanless week. 

Life Without Denim

Did you know how the Got Milk advertising campaign started?

Researchers got members of an upcoming focus group to go a week without milk. They thought it would be easy, but after the week they showed up to the focus group they discussed how difficult it was.

So naturally I'm in a research group and we want to see what life is like without denim. Therefore, I will be going the next week without wearing jeans, jean jackets, or denim hats.

I'm hoping to make a fashion statement with dress slacks and a t-shirt. If you see my in shorts while it's snowing, now you'll understand.

I'll have to set aside any ugly jean jackets for this week...

Ceiling Fans

Anyone else like the ambient sound of a ceiling fan at night? I do. If you were to turn it off I'd probably wake up. 

At 2:45am on Wednesday morning I heard a giant explosion. Glass shattered. My bed shook. I thought we were in World War III, with the enemy attacking Provo for some reason.

Jolting up I looked around frantically. My ceiling fan and light fixture was laying beside my bed. I was shocked as I peered into the hole it once belonged to in the ceiling.

After a life-threatening experience like this, I laid awake thinking about what would have happened if the giant, rotating blades had seared off my legs. Then I thought about what life would be like in a wheelchair. In my mind I chose a silver one with racing stripes.

Now I have a new, sexier ceiling fan that's bolted in real tight. 

Increased Attention

The world would be a better place if we couldn't talk on the phone and drive. In fact, I would argue our social lives would improve.

I was winding down a scenic road with some friends in my sports-like Ford Taurus when I suddenly got a phone call. I picked up and small talked with my friend Matt for a few minutes.

My friends were all laughing, windows down, so I told Matt I had to get going. He said something else that I couldn't really hear, so I wrapped up the conversation:

"Well great talking with you, I'll call you again soon," I yelled over the phone.

"No Jason, I don't think you heard me - my wife is pregnant. I'm going to be a father," Matt reiterated. 

My eyes widened, foot eased on the pedal, and I gawked openly as I suddenly processed what was said. Now there's no faking your way thorough not hearing that your friend is going to be a father. So I didn't even try. 

Needless to say I pay considerable more attention when my married friends call. I hope Matt will still name his child after me.

Actual picture of the drive. My Ford Taurus has had some extensive body work done. 

Implants

I have a great group in one of my classes - myself, two buddies, and a married girl.

Winning combination, right? We work well together, and yesterday in a meeting we were all working hard and my married friend decided to make an announcement.

"Guys, tomorrow I'm getting implants," she boldly stated.

Now, a lot runs through your head when a friend tells you she's getting implants. My mind was convoluted with awkwardness. I sat there dumbly, as did my two buddies. Eye contact was forbidden.

She then laughed and said, "oh, well teeth implants."


A collective sigh left our chests. Relieved, but still speechless, we chuckled hesitantly. Teeth implants never resounded so well.

I thought some cute puppy pictures would be better than pictures of implants. 

Free Pen?

We all have days where we forget a writing utensil in class.

The other day, I had forgotten my pen and had stopped by the university bookstore to buy a few of my overpriced books.

While signing for my credit card, I had used one of the bookstore pens in a cup there at the counter. Now, having suffered through my entire day without a pen and then having access to a million of them was just plain overwhelming. I have a greater understanding of a starving person walking through a bakery.

How the pens are so scrumptiously displayed one would assume they're up for grabs. "Would it be OK if I take one of these pens?" I asked hesitantly.

The clerk stopped what she was doing, glanced down at the delicious cup of pens, and then said "Well it depends - some people do." 

My mind raced as I tried to determine if that was a yes or a no. The clerk had turned my question into an ethical dilema of agency and free choice.

While still keeping my eyes fixed on hers, I reach over the cup of pens and slowly pull one out - like a treasure hunter carefully picking up some gold from its ancient tomb. Eyes straightforward, I place the pen smartly into my pocket and back away slowly. 

Luckily no alarms went off. No security stop. The clerk didn't dive over the counter. They must have been free pens after all.

Laser Tag

Going to a place named the "Family Fun Center" can only mean fun, right?


Well my little sister decided to have her birthday party at the aforementioned location, and one of the key attractions is the laser tag.


Walking into the futuristic arena, your white shirt suddenly becomes a glowing beacon. Shoelaces glisten. Even your white teeth gives away your location in the black lights. 


I was playing with a couple of my friends, Kelsey and Shinji, and all of the kids decided that it wouldn't be fair to have my buddy and I on the same team. Shinji and I play sports together every day. Waging on who will get the highest score among each other, we stealthily enter into the gaming area and begin playing.


Out-of-body experience hardly describes my time in the arena. Diving, tagging kids from across the map, and dodging lasers filled the 5-minute window. 


After the match I triumphantly hung up my vest and gun, asking Shinji with a smirk what his score was. 


"1,000" Shinji reported proudly. Scoffing, I told him my score - a whopping 3,500. Discussing the match, we walk outside of the arena to look at the overall scoreboard. Kelsey follows us out quietly, hardly having broken a sweat.


She cutely inquires her score and tells us her number. My buddy and I both do a double-take - 27,000! 


That's seven times better than our scores combined. She modestly shrugs, mentioning her previous shooting experience and how we could use some practice. 


Last time I ever play laser tag with a girl.

These pictures illustrate perfectly the range of skill. Actual picture of Kelsey training for the laser tag match.