Thief!

Someone was robbed last Saturday at Walmart.

The store was an anthill of activity. I filled in among the colony of shoppers and proceeded with my shopping.

Checkout was quick, as I studied my new box of Trix and tried to solve the puzzle on back. On the way out my girlfriend and I even looked at the puppies in the parking lot. Great day, right?

Well arriving home we unloaded the groceries – carefully taking everything out of the plastic bags and putting them in their place.

Then we noticed the five cans of food. That I didn’t buy.

I can already imagine a SWAT team busting down my door and dragging me out. Screaming at first, I would eventually cooperate and may even smile for my mug shot. Then reality hit and I just had to accept that accidents happen.

Turns out I’m a terrible thief…I now have two cans of tomato slices, refried beans, and a can of sauerkraut. 

Giant Spider

I am decided that there are no spiders in Utah. Good thing, because spiders make my skin crawl (pun intended).

I have probably encountered one of the largest spiders in all of history. Easily the size of my hand, this arachnid had extra sets of eyes and its fur looked like daggers.

You can't stay in a house with this type of spider. It will find you. Determined to kill it, my friend and I got a broom and squeegy to act as both our weapons and defense tools.

Before striking, my friend explained to me that if we didn't get it on our first strike that the spider would mark us, climb the wall and onto the ceiling, and drop on us to attack. All in a matter of seconds.

Hence, I made a mental note that if we missed I would go running and screaming like a little girl.

We stood in anticipation with our deadly broom and squeegy. Silent. I waited for him. He waited for me. The spider licked her giant fangs, I'm sure choosing a juicy spot on my neck to bite.

Sweaty and reluctant, my buddy and I made eye contact and thrust forth our weapons.

The beast surprisingly didn't move. With the blow she oozed some thick green substance that literally slid down the wall.

Then we saw why she hadn't moved - she was a mother. The wall instantly became alive as millions of little spiders, obviously who were nesting on their large mom. It is surreal how a wall can look like it's moving.

Needless to say I did not return to that room for days. And I don't like spiders.

This is probably what the spider looked like up close, although exponentially larger:

Dumpster Diving

I have never been one for dumpster diving, but some things are too good to pass up. 


So I'm talking with a couple of my buddies outside of my house. Positioned by the overflowing dumpster, one of my friends Mark noticed a nice pair of dress shoes sitting atop the pile.


Easily picking them out, we admired the shoes and were astonished that someone would throw them away.


Then my buddy Mike, who interned with Goldman Sachs (a prestigious financial institution), sheepishly admits that he threw them away. He said that they were more worn than they appeared and uncomfortable. 


Mark and I had interned with Sears this past summer... so of course the Sears interns dug through the trash of the Goldman Sachs intern. 

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.