King Of Garbage

I get tired of trying to come up with valid answers for what I plan to do with my life. It seems like  "don't know" is sort of unacceptable. People just expect you to know what you plan on doing for the rest of forever, right now. I honestly think the farthest ahead I actually plan, is what I am going to have for breakfast. Damn, I love breakfast. But as far as everything else, I have no idea. I would like to think that I will be in college for a time, but, I have quickly come to the realization, that the longer I am in college, the more  feel like drug deals become appealing. Something about barely scraping by makes years in prison seem like it might not be so bad. High risk, high reward.
But I have thought about telling people I am slowly training to become a WWE wrestler. But that has become seemingly more like a lie each day. Why? Cause I have looked the same for the past 5 years. I am in no way trying to look more like John Cena at this point. So, I have since scrapped that idea. But, in an effort to come up with a feasible answer to sell to these twits, I have decided to go with a garbage man until further notice. Not even like, I am going to research how to reduce waste, or anything like that. I am going to drive  garbage truck around, wear those terribly bright colors, and look like a convict.
Nobody is going to argue with that. They might ask why, then I'll say; job security. There will always be a garbage to be taken out, man. Then slowly make him feel guilty for not appreciating the hard work the garbage men do. They do the shit that you make your kids do! It's like chores.
Slowly I Will move up in the garbage man community. In my brain, I picture the garbage man community like a weird nudist colony. Not that everyone is naked, but you have to be a garbage man to live there. And everyone is really dirty. They all have houses made out of stuff they find in the trash, but most people live in tree houses. And everyone is way nice to each other and knows who everyone is. There is rarely a dispute or harsh words spoken about anyone inside the garbage man community. However, everyone is disgruntled about how they are treated by people who aren't inside the garbage community.
Soon enough, we all get fed up with it. We all decide to start a revolution. They elect me as King of the garbage men. And I lead them into stages of rebellion. We start by not picking up anyone's trash again. So, the cities decide to hire new garbage men, and we kidnap them. And sabotage the trucks. Then, we build a place where we can take over the airwaves. And there I am, on your TV. Sitting on a pile of trash, wearing a trash crown. Eating a rotten apple. I tell the world that I am in kahoots with garbage men all over America. And if my demands are not met, I will command my me to start the take over by hostile force.
Then the story goes one of two ways, I am either elected king of America. Or, lots of blood shed and battles lead me to become King. Either way, I win. I had heretofore thought that going the civil way of becoming King was the way to go. Win over America. Then I realized it's going to be a feat to convince people that we don't need a president anymore. So, I have since decide that by force is the way I want to go. So, let me tell you something, you can either join my forces and be entitled to a hefty paycheck and light work load, or, you can join the futile forces of the neigh-sayers. And will be charged with eating all the garbage we produce. And live in a garbage tree house. It's up to you.

I Can Count Idaho's Redeeming Qualities On No Hands.

Due to the graphic nature of the things I witnessed this weekend, this entry should not be read if; you have a preexisting heart condition, are pregnant or may become pregnant, have a history of epilepsy in your family, are under the age of 17, or have back issues.

I am going to start by paying my dues to my family and friends that are stuck in the horrible place that is called Idaho. This is in no Way a personal attack upon you or your heritage. I just forwardly apologize for your bad luck.

I will openly admit that I have had a vendetta towards Idaho to begin with. Everyone from Idaho thinks they are so great. And that Idaho is so great. Yet, they have to drive their sorry asses to Utah to participate in events that involve people. Concerts, fairs, basically anything that is fun in  life; it doesn't happen in Idaho. So, when the news trickled through that our family reunion would be held in Idaho at Lava Hot Springs, I was admittedly miffed. I have had fun at Lava Hot Springs in years prior. But, I was also young and stupid. So, I was packing my bag for the weekend trying to come up with a good excuse to not go aside from dismemberment. But, in the end, I couldn't come up with anything.

After the longest drive to Idaho I have ever experienced, I was happy to at least be able to lie in a bed for a minute, and dry the sweat off my back. When we pulled up to the motel, it looked more like something out of a horror movie than real life. People with limps were sauntering about. There was an orange cooler that was full of homemade moonshine and people standing around it talking in broken English. I knew that I may as well sacrifice any sleep I was hoping to get this weekend, Cause I was going to be staying up all night waring off drunks and meth addicts.

When we approached the front desk, a woman wearing a blood stained apron and missing teeth was happy to welcome us to Murder Mystery Motel. She issued us our room keys and offered us the password to the wifi. Which I accepted, but didn't use. I figured it was probably some sort of honing device used to shut off our phones so we cant call for help when the rape clan slinks into our room that night.

We went to our rooms, and it took us about 5 minutes to figure out how to open the door. The keys just didn't quite do the trick. There was some jiggling and jostling involved so as to stall any authorities you call. Which was all the more alarming to me. When we did finally get into our rooms, we we're unpleasantly surprised. One queen size bed, and three single beds were placed in a room that was roughly the size of my bedroom. The only thing that separated the bathroom from the rest of the room, was a shower curtain. So, this room was meant for really tight knit families who like to hear and smell whatever business is going on in the bathroom. I claimed my bed closest to the window and air conditioning unit, so as to drown out the screams of our neighbors being murdered. My bed wasn't even placed on an actual bed frame. It was some 2x4's and plywood nailed together in a makeshift box form. My sheets didn't match and looked like something that was at one point on my grandma's bed when she was 10 years old. 70 years ago. I was most excited to try and explain to everyone how I got pubic lice, but that I am still a virgin.

I think we were compromised for our black and white TV by having curtains made of fleece blankets, as the rest of the motel rooms had towels for their curtains. I looked under my bed to check for any dead people, and booby traps, and it seemed like the last time they actually cleaned under there was about the time that World War 2 ended. There was old confetti and socks that didn't even have a brand name on them. I felt it necessary to take a little walk and get some Idaho air in my lungs that didn't taste like a moldy house.

I walked out of our room and would lazily glance at all the windows to notice if anyone else had the fleece blanket upgrade, or they were all towels. As I walked past one room, the curtains were drawn. And I was so sorry that I looked in that window. There, sitting in a chair, was an older gentleman. He had a neck brace on, and was in some sort of assisted chair, and his pants and underwear were around his ankles, and he was sound asleep. How you could have the window open at such a time is still something I can't gather. I ran like hell back to my room to try and repent for seeing some other old mans funny parts. I knew then and there that I wanted to go back to Utah. If I woke up and someone stabbed me several times, I would walk outside, fill my wounds with dirt and sticks, and I would walk to Utah. Then I would take out my makeshift blood clots and bleed out happily on Utah soil. I refuse to die in Idaho.

This story is 100% true and unexxagerated. And I feel like this is a healthy reflection of what goes on in Idaho. Naked old men and murder motels. I usually think that everywhere has some sort of attraction that would make the trip worth it. However, I feel that Idaho is a strong exception to that rule.

(Online) Dating Scares Me.

I always wonder what the people that go online dating look like in real life. Mostly because in my mind, the people that date online, never leave the house. They have their own cave in which they have resided for years. Like Hitler, or Osama Bin Laden, but less murder-y. If you were to break in with a swat team, they would have red eyes, and scream this scream that shatters glass/ear drums. Then start lighting pizza boxes on fire with their mouths and throwing them at you. And finally you take them down after a really bloody battle. I don't know why this is what I picture, but its what I do. Cause I am sure that they don't use real life pictures in their online dating profile. I am sure that they are harmless, and don't light things on fire with their mouths. I just like to think the very worst possible things that could happen.
Maybe it's me, but I just really hope that my life never slums to the point that I have to sign up for chemistry.com or something. Cause I feel like I would make my profile one huge lie to make people think I am so great. I would make The Terminator my profile picture and talk about how I am looking for a wife by the name of Sarah Connor. And I will stop at nothing to get her. And you know what the funny thing would be? Some Idiot out there with a page named Sarah Connor would believe that I was being serious. And ring me up. Because you know what? You can't put lies on the internet. It's like a proven fact.
I just feel like I have enough going for me, that I could still make things awkward at a social gathering for some girl, and not have to resort to online dating, yet. I would walk up with a drink spilled all over me and say, "So, do you... Uh... Like... stuff?" and make a smile that resembles Michael Keaton from Beetle Juice. I'm not really saying I am above online dating; in all reality, I should be online dating. The only difference between me and people that online date, is that I stare at girls in real life, while they stare at them on a computer screen. Neither of us take action to talk to them, or ask them out. We just stare. If I were to pick up online dating, Then I wouldn't be making a complete ass of myself all the time. I always end up screwing up good pickup lines my friends tell me to use, such as:
Dang girl, did you fall from heaven? Cause it looks like you landed on your face!
Is your dad a baker? Cause you have tons of rolls.
I like my women like I like my coffee. Ground up and in the freezer.
In a lot of respects, I look at the shit I do and say, I wonder if I am even in any condition to date. But, then again, Is anyone? Everyone out there has their own respective problems. You just have to find someone who can deal with your problem as well as you can deal with theirs.
I touched on how you put on the ruse online that you are someone you are not. But, it's not that much different in real life. You always put on a ruse in real life; That you are smarter, richer, and better off than you really are. Nobody is going to off the bat tell you that they have daddy issues. Or anger problems. Or suffer from depression. Or dyslexia. Or whatever it is. But, there is something amiss with everyone. At least, that's what I tell myself to feel better about me.
So, in a round about way, we are all online dating under the name of The Terminator. And we are all searching for a Sarah Connor. And some idiot out there by the name of Sarah Connor is going to ring you up one day. You just have to keep checking your pager.

There Are Reasons I Avoid Singles Wards

I'll be honest. There are reasons to avoid church in general. The primary being sleep. I realize that you have to sacrifice yourself in order to get into heaven. But, in the battle of The Lord and my bed, it's a neck and neck race. I keep waiting to be asleep when I shouldn't be, and some miraculous angel to show up n my room, and be like:"What the freak are you doing?!? Sacrament started like twenty minutes ago!! You... You don't even have time to comb your hair. You're an animal you know that?" And he helps me tie my tie, and things like that. Maybe that's sac-religious, but I doubt I would ever sleep in again. But, I always drag myself out of bed to go to the singles ward. After I get there, I wonder why I did. I think you get a certain amount of brownie points for going to church at all. I also think you get time and a half if you go to the single ward.
There are alot of reasons I feel that way. The main being, everything about singles wards. The bishop ought to just fly around in a cupid costume and shoot everyone in the ass. Then there wouldn't be any misconception about his role in the grand scheme of things. He is just a glorified match maker. The problem is, he isn't as discreet about it as he should be. I love the comments "We should have half the brethren and half the sisters switch places! You folks need to mingle!" I think what the problem with that is, I don't want to freaking mingle. If I see someone that I am enticed to talk to, I will do it in the hall. On my own time. I'm not going to sit down next to a pretty girl and pretend to be interested during the boring lesson. I can't rightfully sit down and have a conversation with this girl, now can I? I Would then look like an asshat that is talking during a very enlightening lesson. Plus, The last thing I need is this cute girl I've never met before to know that I snore. And that I can sleep sitting straight up. Or in any position for that matter. I like sitting by my friends then I can sleep all I want without the fear that I will fart in my sleep. Or start snoring like Mrs. Fatelli from The Goonies. Plus, I am already sweaty. Girls make it worse.
I also find that there is an odd atmosphere around singles ward. It's like boosted levels of testosterone and estrogen. I picture it like turning prisoners of the opposite sex loose in a close quartered building for three hours. Everybody is preying on everyone else. I just... don't like it. Mostly because my role in the whole prisoners thing is the lunch lady with the mole on her face. I don't really do a whole lot, I just stare at everyone. Everyone heads to singles wards keeping in mind that their one and only might be sitting in this very room. And that gets everyone all wound up. In the worst kind of ways. You should be going to the singles ward because you shouldn't go to the family ward. Not to wife/husband shop. But, maybe that's just my crazy talk. What do I know?
I think what bothers me the most, is the attire of people in singles wards. The problem might be that up until recently, my mom has been wearing the same two dresses to church since I was just a sprout. My dad still hasn't changed what he wears. he still wears the same boots, but his pants have been renewed if I remember right. I just feel old school in my church attire. We don't have to dress like a jackass in order to grab a woman's eye. I saw a kid wearing a kilt today. Forgive my heathenish ways, but the only words I could muster was, "What the shit is that?" And I blame my sin of swearing in church on him. Cause I wouldn't have swore had he dressed like a normal person. I have seen everything from lava lava skirts, to leather jackets. And maybe that's cool where you served your mission, or where you are from. But here, in Ephraim Utah, we dress in a shirt, tie, and slacks. Not dresses and leather jackets with chains. So, please. For the sake of my salvation, don't be a dumb ass.
Finally, what bothers me the most about singles wards, is couples in singles wards. It's not enough to just attend church together. And hold hands and be happy to be with each other. You have to make it clear to the rest of the congregation that you are a package deal now. And you only need one seat. Cause you'll be on top of each other the whole time anyway. I just think if you're going to act like that, you ought to just go to the couples ward. Cause you are making the rest of us prisoners salivate and jealous. We can't deal with things like this. And it makes the whole atmosphere that much more intense. I don't deal well with you snugly-puss pecks.
All in all, I have more reasons to not attend the singles ward than I have to attend them. But, I keep going. I think it's cause I am sick. And my mom's church doesn't start until 1 pm. And I don't wanna get home and not have a nap after church. So, until I have reasons to not go, I am going to keep whining about the prison ward.

Adult Stuff That Isn't In Reference To Anything Sexual.

I haven't been a grown up for very long. And by very long, I mean I have never been a grown up. I mean, by age, I have been an adult for 4 years now. I can buy hooch and go to strip clubs if I damn well please at this point in my life. However, You have to act like an adult to be an adult, in my opinion. 

Acting like an adult. I never really understood what that meant until very recently. And even with that, I still don't get it entirely. I always thought that meant you're just 18 now, and you do whatever you want. However, 18 year olds are about as adult as Justin Beiber fans are connoisseurs of music. They're still brainless kids. No offense to any babies out there. But, I think in my effort to being an adult, I have compiled a list of things that you have to do in order to consider yourself an adult. Otherwise, You're just a shit. 

First and foremost, adults hold their liquor. There is nothing more I hate than sloppy drunks. We have a name for people that get so drunk they tell strangers that they love them, it's called "White Girl Wasted." The reason we call it that, is because when these little bitchy high schoolers drink, they belly up to a bottle of Green Apple Pucker and drink it until they can't feel their face, or legs, or feelings, or morals. Then they fall all over everyone and are annoying as all hell. And it isn't even exclusively for white high school girls. They just fit the stereotype the best. Here are some tips to being a successful drunk (as if there ever was such a thing.) One, don't over do it. Drink until you feel good. Don't drink until you piss your pants. There is a little trick I have heard about, it's called the Nog Knock. When you're pounding your flavored vodka shots, after a few, double up your fist, and knock on the top of your head like it was a door. If you can feel it, keep drinking. If you can't feel it, stop. It's seriously that simple. Another tip, Make sure to put your keys, wallet, and cell phone all in one place. Preferably in a sober person's pocket/possession. Nobody wants you to drive drunk, drunk text, or blow your money. And the most important tip of all, don't be a jackass. Okay? Easy Peasy.

For years now, I have worn nothing but band shirts, wrestling shirts, hockey jerseys, and other kinds of t-shirts. Honestly, my wardrobe has never varied from that. Shorts and a t-shirt. It's functional and mostly bad ass. But, this is what young Jake dresses like. Adult Jake can't really dress like that. Not if he is going to be King. At least, that's what I have been told recently. I think fashion is such a tender subject. Because you can go from looking good to looking like an asshole really easily. That's why I never ventured too far. I just always pulled off the under acchiever look. And that has worked for me up until now. I was talking to one of the most kick ass guys I have ever met. And he dresses pretty handsomely. In regard to his clothes he said "I dress so I can cash a check anytime I want to." Pretty profound. You can't walk into a bank looking like the depressed kid you are. You need to dress like an adult to do adult things like cash checks. So, on top of re-thinking my wardrobe, I also got a haircut. While I am in a band, the whole long hair thing wasn't working out too great for me. I looked like I played college baseball and chewed a can a day. Which I thought was fine. But, truthfully, it's unbecoming. So, now I look like I am trying really hard to look okay. Which I am. Adults dress nice.

I could go on and on about table manners and so on. But, I just wanted to talk about these certain things. Just because I have been thinking about them alot recently. For whatever reason. Hate it or love it.