Looking Back (Grimacing)

I think one of the weirdest parts about growing up is looking back on your life and realizing some of the shit that you did and said and going "Dammit, Jake." I guess perhaps that is the biggest part of growing up; growing up. But even so, I still look back on myself and shudder, and that's not even counting the times in my life where I ran my little brother into a snow bank while pulling him on a sled behind a four wheeler. Or even the time that I found all our Easter presents in the motor home and spoiling the Easter for the rest of my siblings. (sorry to anyone who still believes in the Easter bunny) But I am even embarrassed about the things that I did and said only a year ago. Some of it I wish I could take back, others I am embarrassed about, but am glad I said. 

Going even further into that, I have some memories that haunt me. When I was in middle school there was a boy named Travis. He lived around the corner from me, and we were sort of friends. We would talk when we saw each other, but I never went into his house, and he never went into mine kind of thing. The thing I remember most about Travis is that he was fatter than I was. I had been made fun of since I was in 3rd grade for being portly. So when someone was fatter than I was, I was always quick to jump on that and call them fat turds. So when I was in 8th grade I believe it was, Travis and his family were moving to Spanish Fork, and I would never see him again. In my yearbook, I shit you not, He wrote the following message "Jake- I am moving to Spanish Fork so you can't call me fat anymore. -Travis" Back then I sort of laughed it off, but now I look back and that is so horrible. 

When I was in high school I thought a lot of myself. Not in the sense that I was the most handsome or the most athletic, but I kinda figured I was invincible. I had started varsity offensive line since I was a sophomore and was also a renowned heavyweight wrestler in the state. So I figured if anyone had anything to say they could settle it up with me. So I sort of did and said what I wanted with little repercussion. Some of it was due to the fact that I was the chief, the other was that I thought it was funny. In fact, I never really did anything with malicious intent. I just did things I thought were funny and would make people laugh, often without thinking on how that would make the other person feel. Anyway, one day our back up qb came slumping around and I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I gave him the nickname "Ugly" Not like "Hey, you're ugly." I would say "Hey Ugly, grab those cones." And he would actually respond to me. Rather than punch me in the face. I don't know if you're reading this KB, but if you are just know that I am sincerely sorry. That was a really dick thing to do. 

One last one. I was living in Draper and pretty much my only friend was my brother Josh, and the Rogers kids that lived up the street. But I made this friend at school named Gordon. We would always write each other notes during class and I'll never forget that one day Gordon wrote me a note that read, no shit, "When Miss Schleuter bends over you can see her bubes!" it was weird. Anyway, one day we were out on the play ground and I was hanging out with this kid named Bryce, who was an asshole. I don't know why I was hanging out with him because one day Bryce and I got into a fist fight over this girl named Samantha Paskins. So we were hanging out and Bryce started making fun of Gordon who was playing Pokemon cards, if I'm not mistaken. Anyway, in that brat pack group I was with one of them said "I bet you have a huge dick Gordon!" and we all jumped on that train. Making fun of Gordon out of belief that he had a large dick. Apparently that is the worst thing you can have as a third grader. I am a traitor and also an idiot.

I guess the reason this all comes to mind is basically centered around a couple of ideas. I am getting older and the thought of dating, marrying and having kids is becoming more real and less like an idea. And as I think about having kids, I think on all these horrifying experiences. I don't want to have kids if they're going to be like me. I ruined a lot of Christmases (Sorry mom and dad) I guess I am just worried that my son is going to come home beaten down because a group of kids claimed he has a big dick. What a sicko.

Dear Sports Fans:

In light of the recent events of the San Antonio Spurs winning the NBA championship, and the LA Kings winning the Stanley Cup, I have had a few things that I feel I need to share.

Firstly; There is no such thing as a Miami Heat fan that exists in Utah before the year 2010. In fact, there is no such thing as a Miami Heat fan at all in Utah. The only people that claim to be a Heat fan are people that are assholes. There is no possible way that you randomly decided to be a Heat fan in elementary school. Everyone that grew up in the 90's in Utah grew up watching John Stockton and Karl Malone on the Utah Jazz. And that was your team. The other option would be is that you're one of those kids that was a Chicago Bulls fan because you're "that guy." The only reason you would be a Heat fan is because you like teams that win and you are an asshole. So, for every person that buys a Heat jersey in Utah there is a pregnant mother somewhere that is smoking a cigarette. Think about that when you're cheering for LeBron and the Heat this far west.

Also, if you say that you're not a fan of the Heat but you're a fan of Lebron, shut up. We know what you mean. Ship jumper.

Second: If you're an LA Kings fan, please find your swift exit into hell.

Third; this isn't a statement, but a question. Why are there so many Red Sox fans in Utah? I have tried to figure it out forever but can't come up with it. I see more Red Sox garb cluttering cars in Utah than any other team. More than Broncos, Rockies, anything. It's weird. If that's your team, then that's fine. I don't care, as long as you've been a fan since before 2004 or whatever. More than that, before October 2013. But honestly, is there some tie to a player from Utah going there similar to Steve Young and the Niners? I just think it's odd that you chose the furthest possible located team from Utah as you can get. Whatever the reason is, I just would like to make the connection.

Go Giants.

I'm A Bad Person

I feel like I have almost covered everything that bothers me in the world. I am at a point where I will get an idea to sit down and write a comical story on, and I will realize that it loosely relates to something I have written prior. Which sucks, and is also pathetic. After two years of dick and fart jokes that got panned out into sentences and paragraphs, I have come up short. I sat down just now and wrote three paragraphs on farts. No shit. (Pun halfway intended.) But I sat down and began by talking about how if you can't fart in front of your significant other, there is no way you are prepared to marry this person. And that lead me to talk about things like shitting with the door open, and walking around naked sort of stuff. Stuff that is really only funny in context, or in person. But that didn't stop me from paraphrasing! ZING.
I have been thinking a lot about the subject of picking up women. I am trying to keep this a little more candid and playful than cynical. But, whatever. I think moving from the place I have always been to somewhere where there are people everywhere, has made me realize that I am awful in social situations. To rightfully express this statement, I am going to provide examples of such.
I was DD'ing for my friends. (salute me if I've told you this story) We were at this terrible bar in downtown SLC, and I was sitting at the bar watching Sportscenter. They had highlights of March Madness going on, and I was pretending to be enthralled so I didn't have to talk to anyone. (yeah, I know) I was pulling on my Coke Zero when some woman comes up and places herself on the bar stool next to me. This bar was loud as hell, and to talk to anyone you had to lean in in order to ensure that their words didn't get mixed into the deafening music or the sound of girls laughing way too loud. So, she asked what I was watching. (Granted, all the TV's were on Sportscenter, so this was a very simple person question to be asking.) I replied "basketball" She laughed and went on to say that she didn't know anything about basketball, and all the while I couldn't stop staring at her driving gloves that she was wearing. Leather gloves. Inside. I think she was wearing a wolverine shirt too, which can be good. But can be bad. Idk. I was gonna check to see if she was wearing a false tail, but I forgot. She just seemed like the kind of person that would be wearing one of those. Idk why I got that feeling, but I did. Anyway She starts yacking about how she loves wrestling. And of course, I tune back into this conversation that has been going on for idk how long. She says "Not like college wrestling. But like professional wrestling. Like The Hardy Brothers, and Vader and all those guys! Gah I wish they still wrestled."
First of all, I admire the fact that she picked the most obscure sport (Besides maybe hockey or golf) (But I know quite a bit about hockey too so w/e) to yack to boys about. Because 19 times out of 20 normal middle aged men don't watch wrestling. Second, if you're going to lie about watching wrestling, you should at least get your facts straight.
I looked at her and said "Jeff Hardy still wrestles in TNA." I then turned back to sportscenter taking a victory gulp of my coke. She replied "Oh..." Then turned and disappeared. Her fake tail dangling, defeated behind her.
Now here is my issue with this story. Did I have to be a dick? Nah. Did I want to talk to a person about wrestling who clearly doesn't watch wrestling? Nah. Could I have brought up a different subject to get to know this person, rather than just being annoyed with her fake wrestling story? Probably. But Nah.
I was at seven eleven yesterday and I was wearing the exact same outfit as my buddy who I live with. That's not really important, but it's part of the story so why leave it out? So I was murdering my nachos in chili and cheese and pouring coke down my fat throat like it was going out of business. And as I turned back to throw some things in the trash, there was a person standing in front of the garbage can. She was a lot shorter than me. She was wearing this strange pink halter top, and cut off shorts. She had tattoos on the back of her hands, and also in other places I noticed, but tried not to notice, that were fading. Which lead me to believe that they were done in prison. She had a lot of ear piercings as well. She was staring at me. Which I have actually become accustomed to, mainly because I am a lot larger than people, and I have been officially growing my beard for over 7 months. So It was like; whatever. She then asked "Have you tried this yet?" And I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Then I noticed that 7-11 had tapped a new flavor of Mtn. Dew, I don't know what it is, but it's orange colored. I think it has something to do with tropical punch. I said "Oh, the new Mtn, Dew? I haven't, is it good?" She then fully extends her arm, pushing the straw extending from her beverage into my big dumb face, wanting me to take a couple of slugs out of her drink. I wasn't sure what to do because the only person who has ever offered me to drink out of their drink is nobody. So I said "nope." Then turned and walked away.
Did I have to be impolite? Nah. Did I panic? Yes. Do I want Mono and or Hep C by sharing straws with this person that has homemade tattoos and scares me? Kinda.
I just think that with the invention of social media has mortally effed relationships. You have to text a girl every three days or whatever. And Snapchap and all this stuff. And if she likes your shit on Facebook or Instagram and whatever else the hell there is. It's all such a mind rape. Why can't you walk up to someone and show them your Tamagatchi and ask for their house phone number anymore? I feel like I would much rather take the risk of calling someones house and talking to their parents, rather than the feeling of texting someone twice in a row. Or having them not reply to your text but is tweeting or whatever. If I could change one thing, It would be that everyone could be more straightforward with each other and say that you think they're pretty. And you would like to be seen with them. So you should go mini golfing and then throw rocks at trains later. Idk. Granted, I haven't talked to one stranger that I think is nice to look at since... ever. So I should practice what I preach. But hell, I'll make it a goal. I won't report back or anything. Cause I don't owe you anything.

Also, like this or give me a shout if you think I should stop being a lazy ass and finish the book I started, and you would read it. All of it. And then leave a comment on this blog stating your favorite item at Chuck A Rama if you think I should post the first chapter.

I'm listening to Taylor Swift. Idk why I told you that. But I just thought you should know.

The Legend Of The Great White Buffalo

Have you ever wanted something so bad that it sort of... consumes you? I don't mean like it actually digests you, I'm talking about you consume yourself in it. Think about it, dream about it, talk about it, all of that. I have had a lot of that; especially recently. Some days I think about it non-stop, even when I am busy and doing things. I'm not talking about a person, if that's what you're thinking. I'm talking mainly about sleep. Also food.
I understand the concept of getting consumed in things; more-especially people. Sometimes things don't work out the way you wanted them to. Sometimes you push for things that probably won't work out, and the other person allows it out of either selfishness or lack of confidence to tell you so. So, you work and work and work, continually dumping coins into a wishing well; always hoping, vain hope. Then, when things disintegrate, you do too. And that person, or action, or lack of either swallows you whole. I totally get that.
In perhaps maybe a less intelligent world of males, we call this the Great White Buffalo. As it was explained to me, a GWB is the one thing that got away from you. Maybe something you never got closure on. Maybe someone gave you an opening and you missed the mark. Maybe something ended in a flash and you we're prepared for it. In any case, your GWB was the one that got away. The huge buffalo that is taunting you on the horizon of tomorrow, always out of reach.
I have a few GWB stories, in fact, I think everyone does. I have a few examples of GWB's, from real life people, which will remain anonymous. All the names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved; you know who you are. Consider this an unofficial shout out from the King. (If your story is inaccurate, I'm sorry. It's been a while since we have talked about it.)
The first is perhaps my favorite story in existence.
So, Louis was always good at math. When signing up for classes, he noticed a beautiful young girl also signing up for a more advanced math. He walked over and signed up for the same math class. He never really had the courage to address her in class, and they never talked. All year.
Fast forward two years. His senior year he walks in to his assigned math class and who is there? The Great White Buffalo herself. He decided that he would actually make an effort to talk to her and get to know her. So, he did that. They became fairly familiar with one another. Eventually graduation day rolls around. Louis is having a party at his grandparents cabin that night in celebration. He decides to invite the girl he has been dreaming of for so long now. She agrees. We will fast forward slightly through everyone at the party getting intoxicated outside of Louis and this girl. The night wages on, and the sun is about to come up. They decide they want to watch the sunrise together, outside. So, there under a blanket, wrapped in each others arms is the best love story to ever unfold. However, Louis is having a complex the entire time of when to kiss this girl. He was well aware that timing needs to be better than perfect. So, he decides he wants to kiss her out there on the deck, watching the sunrise. Conditions were perfect. But when? So, after a few hours of being out on the deck, the GWB decides she wants to go inside. So, as they approach the door, he gives her a peck on the cheek. She slows her walk to a stop, but continues inside. He kicks himself in the ass all night wondering what went wrong. A feeling we are all familiar with.
Fast forward through a few dates. They decide to get breakfast one morning after several failed attempts to kiss her further. She was leaving on a trip, or something and this would be their last encounter for a time. Louis decides that conditions are perfect. So, after some pancakes he walks her to her car. They hug. As he leans in to kiss her, she stone walls him.
So, he goes home empty handed. After some thought he decides to text her and ask why she won't kiss him. Her response was: "I wanted you to kiss me that night at the cabin."
"I tried; I kissed you on the cheek when we were walking inside." Says he.
"Oh, I thought you ran into me." Was her final response.
I wish I could, but I can't make that shit up. True story, top to bottom.
The other one, is a little less comedic, and a bit more sad/stupid.
So, Gerald's grandma hooks him up with a cute nurse. She gives her his number, and they begin the early/worst stages of dating. They talked a lot. It seemed like every waking hour they were texting. Texting eventually lead to phone calls. Phone calls lead to face times. Face Times then lead to a couple of dates. Even though things weren't taking a turn for the serious, they were getting along peachy. Plus, Gerald couldn't quite commit, he was still hung up on his last mistake of a girlfriend.
This girl decides she wants to go on an LDS mission. So, she goes through all the stages of that, and they continue to talk.
She leaves on her mission, and he continues to write her. Fairly religiously if I am not mistaken. So, she is about ready to return from her mission and he gets an email that says the following:
"I have been hesitant to write you this. But I have to ask you to stop writing me. I have a serious boyfriend and I don't feel right still receiving emails from you. Thank you for all your support."
And that was it. That was everything. Even after toeing the line between friendship and being in a horribly serious relationship for almost 2 years. I guess she picked up a Chilean escort of some type on her mission. Who gives a shit about the rules anyway, Eh?
Stupidity is not gender specific; but damn girls can be dumb.
I was going to tell my friend Sam Bishop's GWB story, but it's rendered useless since he married his GWB. You dog. Still much love for you, my man.
Oh, you want to know my GWB story? Shit. That's the story of my life. Always chasing my tail, and running around in circles. Always wanting what I can't have, and what I know I will regret. I have a plenty of stories to tell about those things I wish I didn't do. Things I wish I would've gotten. Things that blew up in my face, and plenty of missed opportunities. I could talk all day about that. But hell, I wouldn't want to spoil the ending.

Life Is Getting Stranger.

It's been a weird day. I remember when I was a kid my mom would yell at me for wiping my dirty Cheetos fingers on my clothes. I was like "Well! Where else am I supposed to wipe them?" She suggested a paper towel or washing my hands, but that was ludicrous. So, I guess in some form of subconscious I started a habit of wiping my hands on my shirt/shorts. I still do it all the time. I actually have fiscal evidence of such a thing. I was doing my laundry just now, and noticed that a pair of shorts have horrible Cheetos stains. Right above my right pocket, where I always wipe my hands. Consequently, these are my favorite shorts and they wont be disposed of because of a stain. I just thought it was ironic that of all the grease, pizza, and other food-like substances I wipe on my shorts, the one thing I got in trouble for was the one that bit me in the ass. Thanks for nothing Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos.
When I was a kid my mom used to hide all the good treats on a shelf that I was unable to reach (Theoretically speaking. I could get to them with the assistance of Josh or a chair.) It was always frustrating to me. I mean, I can understand now that I would dive into a box of Costco muffins and have them cleaned out before anybody knew they were there. But at the time, I just didn't get it. Today I did some grocery shopping, which is a laughable experience in itself. But I decided that I wanted Gushers, and since I am 23 now and can do whatever I want, I am buying some Gushers. I made my purchase and wasn't even to my car before I had the box open and was eating the first package. And in the 20 minute drive to my house, I consumed two more packages. I think my issue with inhaling Gushers is that they all stick together. You can't eat Gushers one at a time. You just have to eat it whole. There is no other choice. So, I do. When I got home, I thought about putting it on a top shelf where I can't reach it. Unfortunately, I am 6 foot 2 and I can reach anywhere in this house. So, I ate another pack and put them in the pantry. They'll be gone before midnight.
I used to make up excuses to not go to bed when I was a kid. I remember saying things like "Mom! we forgot to comb my hair! I can't go to bed yet!" or "I forgot to brush ALL of my teeth." I think I was fascinated with whatever happened after I was asleep. Maybe my parents turned into Terminator and went and fought crime. Maybe they went to Morpheus' lair and went into the Matrix. I don't know. I wish I knew. Now that I am older, I look for excuses to go to bed. "Sorry man, I gotta go. My grandma's bunions don't rub themselves." or "Oh! I would love to, unfortunately I can't. I have this group that goes and kicks all the hobos out of the park, I can't miss it." When in reality, I am just going home to go to bed. I don't function well when I am tired. Sorry about it. I think my mom drilled into my brain that nothing good happens after midnight, so be home at midnight for curfew. Which is entirely true. All of the stupidest decisions I've ever made have been made after midnight. So, once that time rolls around I know its just time to be in bed. Prison one time was enough for me.
In retrospect to all these things, maybe my mom was right about most things. Now that I am older, I guess I can see more of that. If you'll excuse me, I know where I hid the Gushers. I am gonna go eat a few.