Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Stadium of Fire

I have a dilemma.

I have four Stadium of Fire tickets, but I'm not going to be able to go. If you would like to go, or if you know anybody that wants to, let me know! I purchased the tickets for 50.00 a piece, but I'm willing to sell them discounted for only 35.00.

You can call my cell at 801-414-7433 if you're interested.


Just imagine being under all those magnificent fireworks!


Thursday, June 25, 2009

Set in Stone

The city of Kenniwick, North Dakota honored me yesterday with a statue. A few months ago I saved their mayor from a pack of wild dogs and subsequently put out an orphanage fire with only a blanket.

I flew out yesterday for the ceremony and was back last night in time for dinner. This is the statue:

They did an excellent job of capturing my heroic personality, no?


P.S. During the ceremony, a large meteorite came crashing from the sky and would have likely destroyed the small town. Luckily, I was able to pick up a nearby trash can lid and deflect it back into space.

Sunday, June 21, 2009


On Friday night I experienced something that I had not seen since my mission to Mexico - something I'd never hoped to see again. My roommate, Scott, and I stepped into our apartment at about 1:30am and flipped on the lights to find our walls, floors and furniture covered with little black beetles.

"Oh, good hell, no..." was all I could say as I observed these creatures, crawling, flying, and squirming around with delight in their new-found home. Ten or so had already made themselves comfortable on the couch, while another dozen enjoyed the view on the ceiling. Countless others meandered blissfully behind and under the furniture. There were bugs on the kitchen counter. Bugs in the sink. Bugs crawling through the pile of mail that didn't belong to us. Bugs in the window. On the blinds. In the track on the sliding glass door. In the hallway adjacent to the living room, and in my shoes that I had taken off the day prior.

It was a FULL ON infestation!

A week or so prior we'd noticed a few of these exact same bugs on the walls here and there. We figured they were coming in from outside when Patrick would open the sliding glass door to ventilate the strange smells from his dinner. We'd kindly slide the bugs onto a piece of paper and fling them outside. A simple solution to a very small problem.

The day after, we'd find a few more. They, too, were collected on a piece of paper and quickly thrown outside. Every day, though, we'd find a few more than the day before. We considered talking to Patrick about making sure the screen was closed when he opened the sliding door at dinnertime, but we figured it wasn't a big deal yet, so we let it slide.

On this night, though, it was all too much. How the hell could so many bugs fly into the apartment without Patrick noticing while he ate!? It seemed unlikely, but there was such a vast concentration of the little creatures at the sliding glass door, that it looked like the most probable entrance.

Scott and I gathered our wallets and put on our shoes to set out on a journey to the grocery store. It was decided that when we returned, armed with RAID, we would bring a swift and foggy end to the intruders. They would be shown no mercy, except for one, which we would waterboard until he revealed to us the methods whereby they infiltrated our peaceful home.

I stood in the doorway ready to leave - my mind working furiously to find the answer to this mystery - when the source of our infestation came into my mind as clearly and quickly as the vast, blue dome of the sky does when you rise out of the clouds in an airplane.

"They're under the table!"

Sure enough, I ran over to a small table in our entryway - under which Patrick stores things that I guess won't fit in his room, and there, on top of a box of motor oil, was a bag of crap with a horrific beetle/dirt mixture oozing out of a hole in the bottom. The lower half of the bag moved in a disturbing, unnatural way- lifting and falling like the heart of some alien being. We stared at the terrific spectacle that lay before us - momentarily transfixed by the bizarreness of it all - and then decided to confront Patrick about it.

I knocked on his door a few times. I could hear muffled Chinese as he spoke to somebody on the phone. There was frustration in his voice when he came out to ask what was wrong.

"Umm, come here for a sec," I asked, laughing nervously as I led him over to the bag. "Is this yours? This bag here?"

"Uh... yeah. Those are some herbs I brought from California."

"Oh, okay. Yeah. Herbs." I paused. "Hey, did you notice all of these bugs in the room?"

He looked around halfheartedly as if I were wasting his time. "Oh... yeah. I notice a few lately."

"Yeah, okay." I paused again. "Well, If you look here...." I got down and pointed to the bag, "...you'll notice that the beetles are coming from this bag. From your herbs. The California herbs"

He looked around and then at the bag, putting it all together. "Oh, okay. Yeah, that's gross." He paused. "I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Nope. No you won't. You'll take care of it now." I didn't skip a beat. There was no anger in my tone, but I was succinct and clear. I laid it all out with a matter-of-fact attitude. The way I saw it, an infestation was not something that would "wait till tomorrow." Patrick read into my seriousness and picked up the bag, opened the front door, and set it outside. I wasn't entirely appeased by this move, considering the fact that these strange beetles were now free to move about the country (Southwest, anyone?), but it was good enough for the moment.

He returned to his room and closed the door.

I - a man on a mission - walked calmly into the hallway and armed myself with our Dirt Devil 'Featherlite' bagless vacuum. With the smooth, calculated intensity of a professional assassin, I turned the suction knob from "FLOOR" to "HOSE" and then pulled the large, black barrel from its holster. I was, in that moment, a Ghostbuster, ready to rid this edifice of its wretched unwelcome inhabitants.

For the next sixty minutes Scott, our other roommate Kevin, and I probed every nook and corner of the kitchen, entryway, livingroom, and hallway, sucking the bustling city of beetles into oblivion. When we were through, we'd counted 849 of the little bastards. Their society: eradicated. Our apartment: pristine.

A few stragglers have shown up since that night - lucky ones that were missed in the chaos. We kindly push them onto a piece of paper and toss them outside, free to go with the agreement that they tell their friends of the horrors of the vacuum. I hope we've seen the last of them.


Thursday, June 18, 2009

I wanna be like Mike

"Like Mike! If I could be like Mike!" (Sung in that familiar 80's tune) These were the words to a commercial sung about Michael Jordan in the 80's. I can't remember what the commercial was for. Maybe Wheaties? I know it wasn't just some ad for Michael Jordan. That would be absurd. There was a product involved, but I can't remember what it was.

Anyway, that was a tangent. The Mike I wanna be is not Mr. Jordan. (Although, to have his skills would be awesome if only for the fact that I could go play in the NBA and put that pompous little Kobe Bryant in his place. What the hell kind of name is Kobe anyway? Sorry. Another tangent)

The Mike I want to be like is Mike Rowe - the guy from dirty jobs.

I think mostly it just comes down to the fact that I want his job. He has the best job in the world, doesn't he? You go to work at a different job for one day of every week and get REALLY dirty. Basically, there's no pressure because you've likely never done what you're about to do, but you still get to drive the big machines and such, and if you screw up it's like "Hehe... don't worry about that, Mike. Our factory burned down last week as well." Then you go make a commercial for Ford. And, hey, maybe you'll even throw in a QVC bit just for the heck of it.



Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Lunch today was this...

Soybeans. Mmm. Gaze upon their healthy tastiness. Enjoy their uniquely delicious flavor. Partake in this gift from our Asian friends.


Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Peanut Butter and Jelly

My roommate, Scott, showed me this video and I thought it was just freaking awesome and that you might like it. Enjoy!

(You might have to adjust the volume. I think it's mute by default.)


Like Stained Glass

I shot this from the plane as we flew over the Great Salt Lake on Saturday. I love the abstract geometry and the reflection of the clouds through the "panes".

I think it's a brine-shrimp farm. I'm not entirely sure, though.


Sunday, June 14, 2009

Some thoughts on last week...

When I was in the airport yesterday, I saw a guy walk up to an old lady and ask if the seat next to her was taken. The old lady was reading a book and didn't even look up, but just replied with a, "No, Ma'am. You can sit here." Priceless.

Yeah, I felt a little bad for the "guy" but I'd put a hundred bucks on the fact that the "guy" was actually a woman who was going through gender reassignment or something because that was NOT a man's voice. "He" wore a plaid shirt and jeans and work boots as if to convince the world that "he" was the most manliest male lumberjack man in the world.


For the first three days of our cruise to Alaska last week I had "I'm on a Boat" stuck in my head.

For the last three days, I had Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up."

Thanks for both songs go out to my little bro, Tyler. :)

(Seriously, though, that cruise went from a 8.4/10 to an 11/10 because of Tyler's hilarious personality)


Saw Twilight.

Acting was made-for-tv awful. Effects weren't as bad as I imagined they would be. Cinematography was pathetic. Does that girl ALWAYS have to look pissed off? Good hell, it's no wonder only the vampires like her.

I give it one star for scenes of some cinematographic promise and slight lead-actress-hotness.


Tomorrow I'll post pictures and the like. :)


Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Thunder storms make for some of the best clouds you'll ever see. I shot these last weekend when it was stormy. Wish I had taken more, but I was at a friends house and didn't want to be that guy that doesn't socialize because he's out back taking pictures all the time. :)


Monday, June 1, 2009

A Little Piece of Heaven

At first glance the words, "Pierre Robert" might make you think back to those awful commercials in the 80's for "International House Coffee" wherein a group of women at a table reminisce about their adventures in France by shouting, in unison, some french guy's name. "Celebrate the moments of your life!" (Remember that commercial?)

Pierre Robert, though, is actually the name of the cheese pictured above, and is easily one of the greatest cheeses I've ever eaten. My mom and I found it in Pirate O's - a specialty foods store in Sandy (For those of you familiar with Trader Joes, it's pretty much the same thing. Even the name sounds alike!)

PR (as I've decided to call it) is a mildly aromatic, but not stinky, semi-soft cheese - almost to the point of spreadable. It's velvet texture is complimented well by a rich, buttery flavor that has a very slight tartness in the finish. I like eating it with a slice of dry salami, on a cracker, or by itself.

For those of you cheese lovers that are hungry to expand your culinary horizons, I very much recommend Pierre Robert. In fact, why don't you celebrate the moments of your life with it? (cue 80's tune)