I had a bad day yesterday when I found out the bank I am working for, might be closing our office. Needless to say, watching this clip totally made my day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4HrfXmJ7-I
Maybe you have to know Daniel to really appreciate this, but Myra and I used to hang out with Daniel and Ammon when we lived in Southridge appartments. We pretty much laughed the whole year we lived there. Good memories! You know, it's the good memories (ElCamino and Christmas tree burning, Punked, Praying over Daniel's birthday breakfast, Jimmy Eat World, staying up until 5:00 am, stadium seating, "All's fair in love and war") that make the hard times seem like "stupid post apocolypse" affairs.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Flummox
Life is hard when you're a klutz. Fortunately for me, I haven't broken any bones. This is surprising, however, when you consider how many times my fingers have been smashed by the old window in Great Aunt Jane's cabin, how many times I have tripped over my own feet, been electrocuted by the horse fence, been stabbed by unnaturally low tree limbs, smacked my head on the doorway down to our basement, crashed on my bike, etc. etc. on and on. Spilling is my favorite past time however. I have reached records of the most accidental spills in one day. One of my reoccurring childhood memories is mopping up the floor because I have spilled water all over the place, trying to fill the glasses for dinner. If ever I was lucky enough not to just drop the water jug at the beginning of the whole ordeal, everyone could always tell who filled the water glasses when they sat down to dinner and their dinner plate held more water than their glass. At one point, my mom just stopped asking me to help. I guess it was one way to get out of things.
Even worse than the physical klutziness I experience every day is my uncanny ability to stick my foot in my mouth or simply to say something without really thinking about it first, only to realize after a second or two that the situation has suddenly become very awkward. I could go on for several pages, but I will briefly highlight some key moments or generalizations.
1. Making racist comments that I don't even know are racist. (Sorry Rebbecca, and Ricky)
2. Horny toad story. In grade school my friend was telling me that the mascot of her mother's elementary school was a horny toad. Well, being the innocent Provo elementary schooler that I was, I attempted to make one of my slapstick (corny) jokes that I am so well known for, and blurted out "Well, that darn toad must have been very horny!" As soon as people began to laugh, I realized they weren't laughing at my joke the way I had meant it. "Go ask your mom what that means!" people began taunting me. Oh, poor little Amy.
3. Most recent. I had just met some people at FHE and was busy chatting about nothing when, for some reason the topic of the PBS program on Mormons came to my mind and I was attempting to say how my boss had watched it and ended up thinking Mormons still lived like pioneers. Well, the words flowed smoothly through my mind but some how the acronym PBS got mixed up and came out as PMS. "So my boss saw that show on PMS about Mormons...." All of the sudden I realized what had just come out of my mouth. "Did I really just say that?" I thought. I'm sure my face turned beet red, I had to hide it somehow but all I could do was laugh. Later I received a text message that began "Hey PBS..." I have been tagged. No more first impressions.
In all my years of blunders I have learned that if you don't laugh at yourself, you'll just cry, so I laugh a lot. In fact I laugh so much sometimes that I can't control it and people end up laughing at me even harder because I am laughing really hard about something that is not that funny. If you ever want to experience this phenomenon, just ask me to tell you about the pigeon that flew into the window in the train station, or the bird that kept pecking at my dad's head. Ha ha ha, okay, even now I am laughing. I'll stop right now or I'll get myself into trouble. So that is the story of my life as a flummox. It's a pretty entertaining life I'll say.
Even worse than the physical klutziness I experience every day is my uncanny ability to stick my foot in my mouth or simply to say something without really thinking about it first, only to realize after a second or two that the situation has suddenly become very awkward. I could go on for several pages, but I will briefly highlight some key moments or generalizations.
1. Making racist comments that I don't even know are racist. (Sorry Rebbecca, and Ricky)
2. Horny toad story. In grade school my friend was telling me that the mascot of her mother's elementary school was a horny toad. Well, being the innocent Provo elementary schooler that I was, I attempted to make one of my slapstick (corny) jokes that I am so well known for, and blurted out "Well, that darn toad must have been very horny!" As soon as people began to laugh, I realized they weren't laughing at my joke the way I had meant it. "Go ask your mom what that means!" people began taunting me. Oh, poor little Amy.
3. Most recent. I had just met some people at FHE and was busy chatting about nothing when, for some reason the topic of the PBS program on Mormons came to my mind and I was attempting to say how my boss had watched it and ended up thinking Mormons still lived like pioneers. Well, the words flowed smoothly through my mind but some how the acronym PBS got mixed up and came out as PMS. "So my boss saw that show on PMS about Mormons...." All of the sudden I realized what had just come out of my mouth. "Did I really just say that?" I thought. I'm sure my face turned beet red, I had to hide it somehow but all I could do was laugh. Later I received a text message that began "Hey PBS..." I have been tagged. No more first impressions.
In all my years of blunders I have learned that if you don't laugh at yourself, you'll just cry, so I laugh a lot. In fact I laugh so much sometimes that I can't control it and people end up laughing at me even harder because I am laughing really hard about something that is not that funny. If you ever want to experience this phenomenon, just ask me to tell you about the pigeon that flew into the window in the train station, or the bird that kept pecking at my dad's head. Ha ha ha, okay, even now I am laughing. I'll stop right now or I'll get myself into trouble. So that is the story of my life as a flummox. It's a pretty entertaining life I'll say.
Monday, June 25, 2007
CRAZY!
My friends call me crazy, and you’re welcome to do the same, but the source of my craziness is actually an addiction I just can’t shake. Running, that is my addiction, and the reason my friends call me crazy.
With no particular destination in mind I find great personal satisfaction in lacing up my dirt-covered, tread-worn Asics and hitting the streets. Maybe this, in and of itself, isn’t that crazy, but the fact that I get up at 5:00 in the morning to do it doesn’t earn me many sanity points.
To enhance the craziness I have visions of running a marathon. Such a task is not merely a casual morning’s jog. Every yard of the 26.2 miles of pavement, requires serious focus and determination. Yes, insanity. It even sounds insane to me and yet I can’t shake the incredible desire to conquer the carnal woman inside of me by accomplishing that which seems unattainable. I’ve heard it said that the first man to ever undertake such a feat died shortly thereafter.
Fortunately for me, I know several people who have battled the distance and come out victorious. Some of them have even spoken great things of their experience. “Is it Human?” I ask. “No” They reply with tight lips, “God did not create man for this purpose, but He did give him determination, which is the drive behind it all.”
Though running a marathon is probably not the first item on many new-years resolutions lists, this year I have added it to mine. The simple fact is, I want to be inhuman. There is something about running that gives me a complete sense of power and excitement. A runner’s high, is what they call it.
So, in order to test my abilities I decided to enter the Provo River 10 mile trail run this last weekend. Sure, I was pretty nervous. After all, if I died on this attempt, my plans to run a marathon would be seriously thwarted, but on the other hand, if I did well, maybe I'd be inspired to push the marathon idea.
The morning of the race came. I was fighting that early morning nausea (due to extreme lack of sleep) combined with an anxious adrenaline that only the crazy can understand. As the bus took us up Provo Canyon, it passed all of the familiar bends and turns that I have memorized through the years of my childhood.
My heart skipped a beat, however, when the bus whizzed past the spot that I had envisioned to be the starting point of the run. Up up up, the bus continued past one familiar park, on to the next and then even past that! The bends didn't look so familiar all of the sudden, as the hole in my stomach deepened.
"I am going to die" I thought as the bus finally eased around the last corner. We all filed out of the crayon yellow box of a bus into the chilly mountainous air. "Yep, this will be the last day of my pathetic life, but I am not going to go without a fight!" The gun fired and I set off toward the finish line 10 miles away.
I was surprised how fast the first 5 miles went. Besides the fact that they were all down hill, they were in the shade too. My stomach finally relaxed as the territory became more familiar and I knew I would be okay. "Just keep on putting' one foot in front of the other" I kept in time to the music blaring on my MP3 player.
The sun came up over the mountain peak and I began to slow down a bit. Heat is what really kills me but I figured that if I could run in the heat of Vegas, this should be nothing right? I kept on, constant and steady.
The trick to distance running is keeping a pace you can stick to the whole time, not letting up when things get too hot or when the path starts ascending or when you accidentally inhale a bug. I rounded the last corner of the canyon and started down toward the River Woods shops. By this time it was really getting hot and my umph was starting to let up, but the finish line was so close!
I stopped to stretch for a second, just to get my wind back for the last bit of the race. I had been going strong and could afford a 30 second pit stop. I didn't want to walk at all.
Back on track I strained the last mile and crossed triumphant in my own glory, pausing under the sprinkler to celebrate. I had made it! I had conquered my inner woman and in better time then I had predicted! I was content.
Next stop, 1/2 marathon, and then well........ to infinity and beyond!!
With no particular destination in mind I find great personal satisfaction in lacing up my dirt-covered, tread-worn Asics and hitting the streets. Maybe this, in and of itself, isn’t that crazy, but the fact that I get up at 5:00 in the morning to do it doesn’t earn me many sanity points.
To enhance the craziness I have visions of running a marathon. Such a task is not merely a casual morning’s jog. Every yard of the 26.2 miles of pavement, requires serious focus and determination. Yes, insanity. It even sounds insane to me and yet I can’t shake the incredible desire to conquer the carnal woman inside of me by accomplishing that which seems unattainable. I’ve heard it said that the first man to ever undertake such a feat died shortly thereafter.
Fortunately for me, I know several people who have battled the distance and come out victorious. Some of them have even spoken great things of their experience. “Is it Human?” I ask. “No” They reply with tight lips, “God did not create man for this purpose, but He did give him determination, which is the drive behind it all.”
Though running a marathon is probably not the first item on many new-years resolutions lists, this year I have added it to mine. The simple fact is, I want to be inhuman. There is something about running that gives me a complete sense of power and excitement. A runner’s high, is what they call it.
So, in order to test my abilities I decided to enter the Provo River 10 mile trail run this last weekend. Sure, I was pretty nervous. After all, if I died on this attempt, my plans to run a marathon would be seriously thwarted, but on the other hand, if I did well, maybe I'd be inspired to push the marathon idea.
The morning of the race came. I was fighting that early morning nausea (due to extreme lack of sleep) combined with an anxious adrenaline that only the crazy can understand. As the bus took us up Provo Canyon, it passed all of the familiar bends and turns that I have memorized through the years of my childhood.
My heart skipped a beat, however, when the bus whizzed past the spot that I had envisioned to be the starting point of the run. Up up up, the bus continued past one familiar park, on to the next and then even past that! The bends didn't look so familiar all of the sudden, as the hole in my stomach deepened.
"I am going to die" I thought as the bus finally eased around the last corner. We all filed out of the crayon yellow box of a bus into the chilly mountainous air. "Yep, this will be the last day of my pathetic life, but I am not going to go without a fight!" The gun fired and I set off toward the finish line 10 miles away.
I was surprised how fast the first 5 miles went. Besides the fact that they were all down hill, they were in the shade too. My stomach finally relaxed as the territory became more familiar and I knew I would be okay. "Just keep on putting' one foot in front of the other" I kept in time to the music blaring on my MP3 player.
The sun came up over the mountain peak and I began to slow down a bit. Heat is what really kills me but I figured that if I could run in the heat of Vegas, this should be nothing right? I kept on, constant and steady.
The trick to distance running is keeping a pace you can stick to the whole time, not letting up when things get too hot or when the path starts ascending or when you accidentally inhale a bug. I rounded the last corner of the canyon and started down toward the River Woods shops. By this time it was really getting hot and my umph was starting to let up, but the finish line was so close!
I stopped to stretch for a second, just to get my wind back for the last bit of the race. I had been going strong and could afford a 30 second pit stop. I didn't want to walk at all.
Back on track I strained the last mile and crossed triumphant in my own glory, pausing under the sprinkler to celebrate. I had made it! I had conquered my inner woman and in better time then I had predicted! I was content.
Next stop, 1/2 marathon, and then well........ to infinity and beyond!!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
BFF's
It's that laugh you force when you are trying to pretend you are amused by something that's really not funny. It's the nod that appears to say "I understand" or "Yes, we are on the same page" or "I agree" when, in all reality, you could care less. It's the affirmative grunts or noises you make on the phone such as : "Hmmmm" or "yeah" when you haven't really even been listening to what the person on the other end is saying. It's the "Hi, how are you doing?" as you pass by some acquaintance you've only met a few times and you can't even remember their name. It's pretending you are completely fine when, in actuality, everything inside of you is telling you to cry or yell or run away or just plain nail the sucker right in the chin. The other person will never know these intense feelings you are experiencing, however, because you are so good at faking it.
We all do it, this fake thing. I have done it so many times it's sickening. I think it's caused by a fear that if you actually say or do what you are thinking, you might never be able to repair the damage. So you just sit there and smile and nod every once in a while, and continue to be fake. You are happy and comfortable in your little world of secrets, behind your fake mask. How different would this world be if everyone spoke their mind instead of only saying things they think others want to hear?
And then you have those people who know you so well, you just can't fake it around them. You can try as hard as you wish, but they can see right through you. "How are you?" they ask. "Good" you reply. "What's wrong?" they immediately catch on. "Nothing" you try to fake it. "Come on, spit it out." They stand there staring into your soul and you feel naked. "Dang!" you say to yourself, because nothing ever gets past them. Then you spill your guts, cry a little, and feel better. I wish the world was filled with more people like that. Best Friends.
We all do it, this fake thing. I have done it so many times it's sickening. I think it's caused by a fear that if you actually say or do what you are thinking, you might never be able to repair the damage. So you just sit there and smile and nod every once in a while, and continue to be fake. You are happy and comfortable in your little world of secrets, behind your fake mask. How different would this world be if everyone spoke their mind instead of only saying things they think others want to hear?
And then you have those people who know you so well, you just can't fake it around them. You can try as hard as you wish, but they can see right through you. "How are you?" they ask. "Good" you reply. "What's wrong?" they immediately catch on. "Nothing" you try to fake it. "Come on, spit it out." They stand there staring into your soul and you feel naked. "Dang!" you say to yourself, because nothing ever gets past them. Then you spill your guts, cry a little, and feel better. I wish the world was filled with more people like that. Best Friends.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Celebrity Sightings
Being tall definitely has its advantages when it comes to celebrity sightings. Yesterday (6/6/07) was the premier of Oceans 13 on the strip at The Palms Casino. As soon as we got wind that the cast was going to arrive for their opening debut, Liz, Myra and I joined the throng of fans who anxiously awaited their arrival.
One woman in the crowd, was from England. She was already a little giddy (drunk) and she continued to get louder and louder as her friend brought her another drink. "Brad!!" She yelled at the first sighting of Brad Pitt, in her British accent. "You smart little cracka!" Then she proceeded to force her husband to bend down so she could get up on his shoulders to have a better view. "My nicka's aren't showing are they?" She asked as her poor husband tottered under her weight. All I could think of was "This woman is so drunk! She better not puke on me." She continued to scream a slue of excited profanities as she spotted the stars of the new movie. I couldn't help laughing at her. It was almost more entertaining to watch her and her servant of a husband, then to see the celebrities, but really, nothing can top Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Matt Damon.
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