Merry Christmas You Fil... Oh, You've Heard It All Before.

Part of me wasn't going to write a Merry Christmas to you dweebs. Not for any real reason other than I didn't want to. But I got a bathrobe for Christmas, and I don't know that I have ever been more excited about a gift in my entire life. And I am sitting here in my room feeling somewhat philosophical, and somewhat sentimental. I'm not sure if that's the bathrobe, or the Christmas spirit penetrating my stone cold heart. But, in either instance, I felt it necessary to sit down and write something sentimental for you pecks.
First of all, I mostly hate Christmas. I went to the mall today, because I am an asshole and a last minute shopper, and it was terrible. I couldn't even do decent shopping because I was being hassled by workers and shoppers alike. I COULDN'T EVEN GET A DAMN PRETZEL CAUSE THE LINE WAS TOO LONG AND I WAS STARTING TO GET ANXIETY. And as I stood amidst this mass of bustling people, I had a lot of things come to mind. I have sort of broke it up into a couple of different thoughts.
The first is that of somewhat religious beef. See, I consider myself (somewhat) religious. I attend my meetings on Sunday, I try to treat others with dignity and respect (Laying aside the fight, that is) and I feel like year round I am doing my best, at being my best. I am in no way perfect, or an example that anyone should follow. But I don't think that's really the point of religion anyway. Since we are all sinners and imperfect, the goal of religion should be to help those also seeking perfection. Now, I will stray from other somewhat tangents I had running around in my mind. However, one of the biggest issues I have with Christmas is that it's one of the two times during a regular earth's trip around the sun that people feel even an inkling of being religious. It seems as though in one week everyone crams their well wishes, hearty phone calls/texts, and other somewhat half hearted attempts to cleanse themselves before the year ticks to a close. I have worked at the same hardware store for almost 2 years now, and this seems to be the only time of year people make an attempt to be friendly. Whether that's offering us candy, drinks, or even just a warm smile. See, on one side of it I understand that it's a "special" occasion and that sort of makes sense. But why does everyone need an excuse to be nice to people? Why is it that you need a reason to be kind? I just struggle with that. And touching back on base with my religious rant, why is it that people are only religious this time of year? It seems like they cram a years worth of Hail Mary's, Hail John Travolta's or whatever else it is they worship into one month (Two days even). I just feel like truly religious people would be thankful for the birth of Christ for the duration of the year rather than just on his birthday. And maybe that's the problem with America. We need an excuse to celebrate our life, to get together and eat with our families, to call our loved ones, to be kind and friendly to our fellow men. And it makes me realize that we are screwed.
Breaking over into my other thought, it will be an awful lot shorter. If you are one of the pushy people at the mall, I hope you realize what a dick you're being. I REALIZE YOU ARE IN A HURRY, BUT WE ALL ARE. THAT'S WHY WE ARE HERE ON CHRISTMAS EVE. CALM YOURSELF.
I guess what I hope we can all do this holiday season (myself included) is to practice what we preach. There is a theme at my brother and I's house. Don't talk about it, be about it.
Lastly, so as to be a hypocrite, I want to wish you all a safe and very Merry Christmas. Or whatever you celebrate. I get tons of support from this stupid freaking blog and it means a whole lot to me. I don't write as often as I would like, and I won't promise you that I will be writing more in the future. But I will say that I will do my best to only write things worth reading. To my consistent readers and lovers of this, God bless you. And thanks to those who spread the word. I do my very best to keep this light hearted so as to make my consistent joke of a life, a consistent joke for all of you. If you are traveling this holiday season, I hope you will travel safely. Again, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Merry Christmas.
-The King Himself.

A Bloody Mess

Okay okay okay. I know there has been some rumors spread, and things going around about what happened to me. I have been getting a fair amount of texts and calls in desperation wondering what happened. It doesn't help that Harrison sent out a Snapchat of me being prepped for stitches with the line "Jake is dying" on there. Or Josh putting #PrayForJake on Twitter. Although I know most of you wish I was dead, I am neither dead nor dying. But I do feel like you deserve to know the truth. So how about a funny, bloody story, eh? Good.
So, it begins where most of my idiotic stories begin. I was hanging out with my brother, Landon, and Harrison. We decided to go to Mt. Pleasant and get some doughnuts from Terrells Bakery, the best doughnuts in Sanpete county. So, we did just that. As we approached the store, I got a phone call from someone concerning my new job/move to SLC next week. So, my three friends went inside to get doughnuts while I was on an important phone call in the parking lot.
As I was standing there in the parking lot, a big truck pulled up next to mine that I was leaning against. And who is driving the car? None other than the kid I constantly beat the shit out of in wrestling my senior year. He was from Enterprise, and I don't want to post anything incriminating. But we will call him asshole #1 and his goon buddy asshole #2. As he got out of his truck, he purposely hit my car with the door of his truck. and gave me a snarling look. At this point, I knew nothing good was going to happen, and ended the phone call I was on.
I approached the yellow bastard by saying "Hey asshole, you got your shitty ass truck paint on my car. What are you gonna do about that?" He responded in something that sounded like an autistic person choking on baby food, but I made this out "Nothing fat ass. It makes your shitty car look a little better." I knew things were gonna come to blows anyway, so I said "I'll tell your mom you talk like that when I am done railing her later tonight."
In a sort of round about way, and filtering out a lot of swear words and minor pushing, I socked asshole #1 right in the mouth. As soon as he went down, asshole #2 socked me right in the face, and split my eyebrow open. As soon as asshole #2 saw the blood, he gathered his stupid friend and sped off in their shitty truck. When they were gone, I gathered my senses, and my friends came out from the store. We discussed chasing them down, but thought it best to just get me stitched up. And then proceeded the road trip to Gunnison. Laughter, pictures, and other nonsense.
So if you heard anything else, it's false. We did tell different stories because we didn't want anything police related to get back to me. And because we can do whatever we want. This is the true story. You know it's true, because you can't lie on the Internet, right?

Why Traveling The World Sounds As Terrible As Hell.

On any given night around 11:30 you would be safe to assume that I am in my bed, lights out, and well on my way into my 3rd REM cycle of sleep. It's not very often that I find an activity or person that I value more than I do my sleep. I used to think that I could just sleep when I am dead, but have quickly come to the realization that that is bullshit. If I don't sleep while I am alive, I will more likely kill everyone else and sleep when they're dead.
I just can't seem to come up with anything that is more enjoyable than a full nights sleep. Waking up the next day feeling refreshed and ready to accomplish the days tasks of eating, surviving, and genuinely kicking ass. Perhaps I am just getting old, and maybe that's okay. But I don't really see the merit of hanging out at people's apartments until all hours of the night, just talking or watching movies when I could be fast asleep. Especially at people's apartments that I am not really gaining anything from, which I realize sounds super shallow and mean. But I have spent so much time spinning my wheels at girls apartments that I really don't gain a whole lot from. I mean, friends are nice and all, but I have friends. I have awesome friends. HOW MANY FRIENDS DOES A GUY NEED?
Allow me to tangent briefly, I really don't understand women's logic when it comes to friends. See, you must know that the main reason men come hang out with you is because they're looking for something. Whether that's a hookup, a relationship, whatever. But they sure as hell aren't coming over because they prefer the company of women to men. If I were to go hang out with anyone, it sure as shit wouldn't be some drama ridden girls house. I would be here watching Lord Of The Rings with Josh, Harrison, Kasey and Landon. Because men are so much nicer to hang out with. Now, this isn't to be taken in the context of homosexuality or anything like that. Sure, I would be willing to go and put forth the effort into hanging out with girls and enjoy myself. But if we are strictly speaking of friends, I one billion times infinity would rather be around my own kind.
Also before I get back on track, I just want to make something perfectly clear. If you have to tell a guy that you just want to be "Friends" you wont be friends at all. It's just not how the world turns. Obviously the only reason this person was coming around was because he was interested in you. So when you tell him off, the last thing he is going to continue doing is coming around. Unless he is an idiot. This ties into what i have aforementioned. They don't want to be friends with you. It's just.. life. So if you ever have to tell someone you want to be just friends you're better off telling them to go to hell. Because you aren't going to be friends if you have to say it. (Granted; there are exceptions to all of these things.)
Relating back to my idea of sleep. See, I would rather sleep than do most things. Regardless of what they are. On top of this, when I don't sleep well, I usually become erratic and incredibly temperamental. If I don't get at the very least 6.5 hours of sleep, I hate everyone and everything ever.
I seem to only find girls my age that are interested in traveling. They want to see the world and all that shit. Which is fine, I try to never knock someones dreams or aspirations. But what bothers me is that these young girls think that they are incredibly original in saying these things. But honestly, I know more people that want to travel than people who do not. You are horribly stereotypical by saying these things. If you wanna be original, say you wanna take long naps and get full nights rest. Possibly work at a bowling alley or something, I dunno.
Whats worse than all this, is that they are looking for someone to travel with. And my biggest problem in the dating community, is my complete disdain for travel. I don't sleep well in places that are not my own bed. hotels are probably the least conducive thing to a good nights rest that I have ever experienced. I don't want to go anywhere, because I know I won't sleep. And if I don't sleep, I won't have a good time. And if I don't have a good time, you probably won't either.
I guess what I am getting at is, sorry that I don't want to travel or can't afford to. Sorry my dad doesn't have deep pockets that will fund my lascivious trips to wherever the hell you wanna go. Sorry I have to stay home and work to bring home the bacon. But have fun on your trips. And let me know when they invent a way for my bed to travel with me, then maybe we can talk about leaving the state.

(This Brees pic is for Austin G. Geaux Saints?)

It's hard to write content.

I recently came across the saying "Being happy is a choice." I always felt like that was bullshit. I felt like happiness often depends on your environment. It depends on the people who are around, and inside your life. It depends on the amount of stress in your life. It depends, it depends, it depends... For a vast majority of my life I have been living it not necessarily for others, but more for others approval. I have always done things that will make my parents proud. That my friends would approve of and enjoy. What strangers and people I don't care about would laugh at or find amusing. I was so consumed in myself, that I was willing to do things that make me unhappy for the satisfaction of others. Which I always thought was a selfless thing. I always felt a sense of entitlement because I was so "selfless".
I was so drawn out on others approval, that I couldn't make simple day to day decisions. When asked where I would like to eat, or what movie I would like to see I would always answer "I don't care. Whatever you want to do." Because I was willing to sit through an awful movie, or eat unsatisfactory food if it made this other person happy. I always felt in my heart that this was a good thing to be doing. This was something that is very rare in the world. And now that I am saying this out loud, I realize how crazy that is.
When people ask me what I like to do for fun, I always draw a blank. I don't know what I like to do. I like to do whatever my friends like to do. Play Xbox, cards, watch movies, road trip, gamble, anything my friends are doing, that's what I like to do. Which makes me sound like I don't have a personality. I know of a few things that I love to do; Eat. Sleep. Listen to music. Above all, I know for sure that I love to do these things. But I don't know of any hobbies. And that much is sad.
See, I always felt like in order to be happy, a set amount of things has to happen. Regardless of what they may be. I got in a fight at a concert a while back, and I was happy for a long time after that. It was like finally closing the door on that point of my life. Or eating a delicious meal in San Francisco made me very happy. Too often I rest my happiness contingently on events that are far out of my control. I could go to several concerts, and may not meet an enemy of mine in the pit. I could go back to the same restaurant in San Francisco and it may not be as good. I feel like this is a fault line of mine, and where this "Happiness is a choice" can come into play.
If you are like me and dwell on bizarre events of the day, and either let them make you or destroy you, there is a lot to be said about choosing to be happy. See in my simple opinion, You can dwell on the things that make you unhappy, or things that make you happy. You can focus on the hardships in your life, or the things that make your life awesome. In essence, happiness IS a choice.
Laying aside all the events that make you unhappy, and things that are beyond your control, I have learned one valuable lesson. When you run into seemingly unbearable hardships, which we all do, how you deal with it is totally up to you. I have learned that the depth of your mourning and sorrow is totally upon your head. If you do like I have been doing for the past several months, you may never get over it. If you lock yourself in a dark room alone for several hours, if you listen to sad music for extended periods of time, if you watch movies that play on your sad emotions, if you never make an effort to get better, you never will. I feel like hiding under the covers or ignoring the monster under your bed wont make him go away. However, getting out of bed and walking to where he cant follow you might.
I guess what I am getting at is, don't be a bitch like I was (am). Don't mope around your house for days on end. Don't listen to sad sack music so much that you can repeat every depressing detail about the song. Don't shut your friends and family out when you need them the most. Don't get hung up on something that is beyond your control. And most of all, don't let it consume and change you. Get up. Get out. Get better.
I am in no way a motivational speaker. But I have had this on my mind a lot recently. And it is my deepest wish that no one has to fight the same fights that I have, in the same depressed way that I have. I just wanted to put this out there. You can love it or hate it. I don't care anymore.

Reasons To Stay Fat

I was browsing Facebook the other day and came across someone I knew from high school. The first words that came out of my mouth upon seeing this persons photos was: "Holy shit! She got fat!" I probably shouldn't say that about people I at one point had an  intimate relationship with, but oh well I guess. I got to thinking about what people might say about me when they see my most recent pictures. I basically concluded that they would probably say "Well, he looks the exact same."  One of the many benefits I have concluded about being fat in high school is that people wont say degrading things about my weight when they see me now. Cause I am virtually the same bearded loud mouth I was 5 years ago in high school. Eat that.
This lead me to start thinking about some of the other benefits about being fat. Since they are in abundance, I will spell them out for you.
With Thanksgiving coming up, people expect you to eat a lot. You don't have to be polite or dainty by any means. You can stuff your face violently and often, and no one will think twice about it. Too often I hear people ask thin people "Where do you put all that food? Do you have a hollow leg?" They don't have to ask me where I put my food. They know it goes right to my ass.
It's acceptable to take up more than one seat in public places. When another seat opens up in an airplane or bus, more often than not, the idiot that is sitting next to you will sit there, so as to not be crammed with your lard ass on that seat.
Your clothing choices are often limited. Some may think that this is an issue, but with so many choices, how do you ever find what is best? When you have to shop at Lane Bryant like I do, it makes picking out clothes easy. And in the off chance you shop elsewhere, their plus sizes are usually scoured, so you have only a few choices. When I go shopping, I am usually done long before my idiot friends are because I have seen everything in my size. Twice.
You fit in at buffets.
Your ride choices are sometimes limited at amusement parks to make your choices easier.
It's much easier to break a sweat when on a "Workout" plan.
Eating healthy can mean anything.
People don't question you when you ride a jazzy around Wal Mart
If/when you lose weight, it's usually way more noticeable than an average sized person.
Using the handicap stalls in bathrooms is always nice, and you can justify that.
Going back for fourths is always greeted warmly by the chefs (Although you may just be extra hungry)
They say that you will die sooner, but then you will have to deal with less idiots. Bonus.

Being Fat And Other Talents

I was talking with my friend recently, and he expressed to me the reason he won't be getting married any time soon by saying, "girls don't like me because I am immature." (Which is  paradoxical, because girls are horribly immature.) I laughed, but retorted by saying "Girls don't like me because I am fat. At least one day you will grow out of being immature, I will ALWAYS be fat."

We had a good laugh, And I remembered one of the conversations I was eavesdropping on during my math class the other day. I hate listening to people, and usually have my headphones in. I say that to better explain myself if you have the misfortune of seeing me on campus. Anyway, there is a bunch of dweebs in my math class, and they all sit on the front row, which makes them all the more dweeb like. Even though I sit on the back row alone, with the occasional company of some Asian girl who usually sleeps through class. These dopes were having a conversation, and it was something along these lines. "The reason I am fat is because I come from a long line of Vikings. We have been bred by natural selection for generations to survive harsh Scandinavian winters. There is absolutely nothing I can do to change my physique. I will be fat until I die." I scoffed aloud, because I believe the same thing. The reason I know I am bred for harsh winters, is due to the fact that I am covered in hair and fat. I feel like if there were ever a cold front to come across the US, you would all be frozen to death, and I would be ransacking your local Taco Bells. Naked. Not having lost a pound, and treating every day as if it were normal. I once shaved for an interview, and grew my beard back in a matter of ten days. I could make a onesie out of my beard in about a year, and be looking like something out of Where The Wild Things Are.

I guess what I'm getting at is that everyone has cool things about them, and everybody has things about them that suck. My friend might be immature, but he's pretty damn buff, and handsome. Not to mention one of the coolest and most genuine dudes I know. I am big boned, but I can grow a nice beard, and have a knack for creating swear words and making things horribly uncomfortable. Plus I have a sophisticated palate, and great taste in music. 

At the end of the day, I wonder how people would feel when their significant other can't survive a zombie apocalypse, vampire takeover, werewolf outbreak, cold front, or just when shit gets crazy and people are killing each other off. I hope most people are happy with their choices in a significant other, but I hope they regret the shit out of it when their lovers handsome face can't save itself from being eaten by something out of your nightmares. This isn't an attack on anyone. I just want to raise awareness to guys, you should sharpen your skills.

Sports (Smack) Talk

I think being competitive by nature is a blessing and a curse. I think if used in a productive way, it can be a good thing. You can use it as a sense of drive and determination. However, I don't use it for anything even remotely productive. More than anything I use it as a crutch for being a dick. "Oh, sorry I called you a son of a whore and that I said I was going to brutally murder you and your whole family. Heat of the moment, you know?" *Sheepish smile* Then flip the bastard off and walk away serenely.
I actually coached 7th grade football this year. And being horribly competitive almost put me in the hospital. 7th grade boys are about as smart and understanding as puppies. They do whatever the hell they want, regardless of how much you yell and scream. Even as competitive and mean as I was in practice, I was substantially worse in games. As a coach. It was hard for me to shake hands with the opponent after we would lose. AS A COACH. While I would say "Good game fellas, good work." In my brain, I was calling them all unlearned hillbillies and cheap little bastards. Maybe this is a product of being a poor loser, but I don't really differentiate the two.
Probably the biggest run in that I find in my life is professional sports. Now, I'm not going to beat around the bush, So I have compiled a list of professional teams that I actually hate. Not dislike, I hate them.

Los Angeles Dodgers
New York Yankees
Boston Red Sox
Miami Heat
Los Angeles Lakers
San Diego Chargers
Oakland Raiders
New England Patriots
The Shield (A WWE reference if you are ignorant. Which I assume most of you are.)

Now I won't go into why I hate these teams. Other than they are assholes. Sometimes it's fanbase, sometimes it players. Most times its both.
I think my biggest issue is, I care way too much about professional sports. The truth is, everyone does. I have come to realize many years, and hair loss too late, that regardless of how much you gloat, stress, talk, badmouth rivals, post on FB/Twitter, This does absolutely nothing to influence how well or poorly a team does. You can eat crow until it runs out of your ears, and your team might not win. See, in professional sports, you roll the dice. Karma doesn't exist in professional sports for fans. You can do nothing to influence your team. Unless that is, if you pay a shit ton of money as a benefactor. Which most of you aren't nor ever will be.
I realize that there is the "Sixth man" concept. That the louder you are, the more intimidating it is for opponents. And I won't argue this seeing how the Seattle Seahawks stadium holds a world record for the loudest game ever this season. I recall standing on my seat this summer at AT&T Park in San Francisco, leaning over the barrier joining in as loudly as my lungs would permit in chanting  "F#CK THE DODGERS" Gloating wildly, as Yasiel Puig struck out for the fourth time that game from my VIP box. That moment might have been one of the most euphoric moments of my life. Cause for once, I wasn't the only one with burning blood hatred for the Dodgers. I was surrounded by fellow true blue Giants fans, joined together in the cause of hating the Dodgers. After saying all this, I don't think screaming loudly from my bedroom, as Peyton Manning continues to destroy teams, helps him very much in Denver. My cries are loud, but not hear me in Denver loud.
I will never say that you shouldn't stand behind your team. And wear their colors to school/work. However, if you are wearing the wrong color of jersey, I pre-judge you. And assume you are probably an asshole, even though you might be a perfectly nice person.
I didn't write this in hopes of trying to bring hatred to an end. Cause that would suck. I do think that you should stop getting in one another's face's over it. Because you contributed absolutely nothing to your teams win other than picking that team as your team (If only for a winning season.) I realize now why people only cheer on winning teams. Not only are they easy to hear about because of ESPN, but it must be nice to always be right. And score bragging rights. I have spent many seasons as a Denver fan with broken playoff dreams. However, I would rather be a faithful loser rather than a ship jumper. My bandwagon as a Denver fan is weighed down from all the ship jumpers this year. I guess I should take that as a compliment, but they didn't suffer through Jake Plummer, and Kyle Orton. They don't remember never doing well, and having losing seasons. They just show up when times are easy. Which is smart, but not fair to me.
I guess all in all, I should stop losing sleep over my teams. But that's not gonna happen. I think I probably lose more sleep when my enemy teams are doing well. Nothing that flipping off people wearing their stupid garb won't fix.

Revenge.

I don't normally do shout outs, but in forming the idea around this blog, I had thought a lot about a certain person. So, this one is for you, Miki G. Middle fingers up.

I remember talking to a lot of people when I got dumped and they centered their form of solace that read something along the lines of "Happiness is the best revenge." I highly doubt that you have never heard this before, but in the event that you haven't allow me to expound. Basically what they're saying is; the best way to make this asshole jealous/regret dumping you is to be happy. 

I think that this is a bullshit lie. I feel like the best revenge would be to see their facial expression as they watched their house burn down. Or what they would say when they found their car on blocks with all the windows shattered. THAT, would be quality revenge for kicking my heart in the ass. Some monetary damage for the permanent damage on my mental/emotional health. Fair trade.

See, what I don't really understand is, what makes you think that this person gives a shit about whether you are happy or not? I mean, obviously they don't care that much about you; they just dumped your dumb ass. If they cared about your happiness, they probably wouldn't have dumped you in the first place. At least, that's what logic implies.

However, I do think there are ways around your happiness, that can make someone jealous that they dumped you. And these are loosely based, but are things that I feel could do the trick.

-Get a boob job. I don't know why this topped the list. But it's one of the first things I thought of. I also don't think I need to explain why this is something that will inspire jealousy.

-Lose weight. I guess this should top the list since it's every one's first thought.

-Become incredibly rich. This can be through inheritance or on your own terms. Nothing says 'F YOU' quite like riding by their one bedroom apartment slowly in your Rolls Royce, flipping the bird and listening to death metal you had written about them by your favorite band.

-Grow a killer beard. Just, do.

-Become a famous wrestler.

-Star in several background roles of movies.

-Buy several expensive items on credit to make you look rich.

-Meet many famous people and take pictures with them.

-Build a pool in your backyard with a water slide.

-Buy a boat.

-Take up an extreme sport; preferably rollerblading. (Helmets and elbow pads, please.)

-Start robbing banks and be an infamous criminal.

-Join a service such as The Somalian Pirates.

-Murder their current significant other.

-Make the news. For anything, really.

-Break into their house and steal valuables.

-Write a biography, write a vicious chapter about them, print the chapter, and mail it anonymously.

-Blow up their mailbox.

-Doorbell ditch their house.

-Fight in underground venues and make sure they see you kick someones ass, then kick theirs.

-Knock over a casino by counting cards.

-Send them Anthrax through a very sincere letter that you forged from their Grandma.

-Trap them in Jumanji.

-Buy a bouncy house and don't let them in.

-Go on several vacations and take pictures with someone incredibly handsome/pretty, and shirtless/in a bikini.

-Dress/smell very nice.

-Make up a lie that you got promoted in a big insurance agency and wear a suit/pant suit all the time.

I think I could probably continue on in this list for days. Because I know what would make people jealous; even though I do absolutely none of the things on this list. I do realize that some of them digress, but they are all pertinent. However, I do have aspirations to achieve one of the things on this list. And that is to become a professional wrestler. I just feel like when these people are living in a trailer park, nothing is going to be more haunting than seeing my stupid face on all the Mexican neighbor kids Wrestling T-shirts that they never wash and always wear. I feel like it will be a good reminder to everyone. And then I am on a billboard, drinking a gallon of milk, right above the freeway they live under. It seems like the best option for me to inspire jealousy and hatred for me. Just knowing that I am doing so great. And if not, I guess we can always lead them back to the wood chipper.

Professions.

I had a job interview today. And it was preceded by some of the worst days of my adult life. Not literally, but I have been way stressed out. I have smoked 3 cartons of Lucky Strikes in the past 48 hours. I don't really know where to begin, because this whole week has been a shit storm.
I guess it all started when I shaved my face. I feel like most traumatic stories should begin this way. The best way to ruin your life, is shave. I shaved on Thursday night so I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of hacking away three inch long hair at 7 am, and accidentally cut my throat then bleed out doing the least manly thing possible. I ran around showing off my mustache for a while since now that I am 22, it's finally a respectable mustache. Then I actually shaved with a razor. It was then that I saw that I had a very noticeable tan line from where my beard used to be. I also realized it's the first time my face has been beard-less since March. Needless to say; I panicked. I was trying to impress these people, and I officially looked more like a jackass than I ever have in my whole life. I didn't even look this bad when I got arrested for public urination.
So, I finally calmed myself down enough to lay in my bed and stare at my lava lamp for a few hours while the moon went down. Then got up at 7 am, and started what is now today. Last night I went to Wal-Mart and purchased myself a sweater. I wanted a sweater that looked like something that a dad would wear. Mostly cause I think it's funny. So I went and bought me a sweater that is much too big for me. Which seems like a contradiction. That would basically be a tent. Only a tent would be too big for me. My day officially started by me waking up with a One Direction song being played in my head. ONE DIRECTION. So I screamed as loud as my lungs could muster, and put on some sister raping, village burning metal to drown out the sound of 5 English butt touchers. So, After this I went to work and shotgunned a Rockstar to try and compose myself. The next few hours consisted of a constant stream of idiots making remarks about my naked face in a manner such as; "I BARELY RECOGNIZED YOUR STUPID IDIOT JERK FACE NOW THAT IT'S NAKED HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!!" "LOOK AT YOU WITHOUT A BEARD!! IT'S LIKE SEEING A HELPLESS BABY SWIMMING IN CLOTHES THAT ARE TOO BIG FOR HIM! HAR HAR HAR HAR!!" And so on, in this manner. Well, my shift was coming to and end, and the interview was coming up. But it wasn't the end of the shit fest. This lady came into the store, and wanted me to mix some paint for her. So, I started doing so. However, she wanted a black colored paint mixed, which translates to; I want to make your life as miserable as possible. So, I begin doing it as fast as I can. However, I got a messed up can of paint, that was overfilled with the base. So, when I try to hammer on the lid, It is much too full. So, I take it outside, put a board on it, and hammer it closed and get paint all over outside. Then I take the can to a hose and begin washing it off. When I started doing so, The water came back, with paint, and sprayed me right in my stupid face. So now not only did I have a white tan line on my face, I also had paint all over it. I said some swear words really loud, washed my dumb face, and gave the lady her paint.
The interview itself wasn't that bad. I had to wait in line with a bunch of people who were much older than me, and made me feel even younger than I now looked. I officially felt like I should be playing bench for the 6th grade football team. I was actually happy to be there, because it helped me not be wound so tight. I was basically imploding for an entire week. It nearly killed me on multiple occasions.
I guess in retrospect to all of this, I have officially landed on a career. I am applying to be a stay at home dad. I am as bad as all the girls at BYU. They aren't looking to get a degree, they're looking for a husband to pay the bills. And I feel like if they can do it, I sure as shit can. When people ask me what my major is from now on, I am going to tell them "I don't have one. I am just looking to get married and start raising kids while my wife works." It sounds like a dream. Playing Lego's, beating the shit out of my kids in Nintendo and real life, watching General Hospital and drinking enough Diet Coke to shower the continent of Africa for 45 minutes a year. (Think about that. A nice Diet Coke rainfall. Sounds awful. I shouldn't be so mean to those spear chuckers..) Thus explaining further my purchase of "Dad clothes." So, if there are any takers on this, contact me directly. My ideal date includes me eating a lot, and not paying for any of it. So just plan on that. 5 nights a week.

I Shut Down Your Stupid Government.

Truth be told, I don't know the first thing about the government. I don't know how it was shut down. All I know is that there has been a lot of bitching going on about it. I think I have probably the worst story in eternity about the government shutting down and ruining my life.
I woke up at around ten cause I figured school was cancelled; it wasn't. Then I compose myself enough to hurry and burn some CD's and DVD's since the feds are out of a job. At around one I went to work, and I suppose that the insects thought they could just do whatever the hell they wanted since the government was shut down, and they were swarming us at work. So, I was chasing them around with a fly swatter and doing my civic duty to maintain order in the government's absence. I took a break from my post to yawn, and stretch. As I did so, a suicide bombing fly flew right into my open mouth, and tried to fly down my throat. I proceeded to cough and hack and almost puke. I lied on the floor for a time and thought about how pissed off I would be to die here at work. Drowning in my own vomit that a fly caused. I would have been cursed to haunt a vacant building. I probably would have been the most pissed off person to has ever passed on. Thanks for that one, Obama. Then when I went to get up I rolled over into a pile of loose screws, and threw out my back.
I may not know the what's and where's of the shutdown government, but, I will tell you the reason why the government shut down. See, even though it proceeded to almost kill me, it is all a ruse. I just made it seem like it was awful so I could commiserate with you idiots. Truth is, this is the beginning of the reign of King Jake. I have officially overthrown the government in order to show you peasants how desperately you need a new government. Something needs to change. And I have just the thing you need.
Actually, I don't have anything you need. But I think if I was King, I would be pretty great to everyone. Some of the things that are going to change immediately are as follows:

-No more women sports announcers.
-No more gas station food.
-No more dirty restrooms.
-All Pizza establishments will offer $5 pizzas so we don't have to keep choking down Little Cesar's.
-Fighting will be acceptable under any circumstance if the antagonist is being a jerk.
-All places of employment will allow employees to grow beards.
-No speed limits.
-No credit checks.
-No money, only barter and trading.
-College books are free of any trade value.
-Wild animals are acceptable to be domesticated.
-I get season tickets to San Francisco Giants, Denver Broncos, and Dallas Mavericks games.
-No more reality TV.
-No more idiots being famous.
-No more Miley Cyrus.
-No more One Direction/Justin Beiber/Luke Bryan/ anyone else I hate.
-Everyone will be provided with shoes and must wear them in public.
-No Rip Sticks.
-Socks. For everyone.

I have a lot of other great ideas also. But, These are the only ones effective immediately. So start doing the things on this list. Then your happiness, and everyone Else's will improve. Stand by for further instruction.

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. 

A Confession.

I don't really like animals. Or people. I think what is the most shocking to people, is that I don't like animals. I don't like puppy breath, I don't like animals hair all over the clothes I worked hard to pay for, and launder. I don't like that they not only invade my space, but more especially my real personal space (my goodies). I feel like every animal on the planet has a sixth or more sense that says "You need to step on this guys ding dong. He hates animals so we have to step on his no-no's." Or smell them or whatever. The point is, I just don't like animals. You know what is a great animal? A fish. That bastard causes the least damage ever. You feed him twice a day, he never tries to mess with your funny parts, he doesn't leave your clothes in disrepair, and he is kick ass to look at. I don't want a dog or cat, I just want a fish tank. I don't even want glamorous fish either. I will settle for some goldfish.

Aside from how stupid people must feel bagging their dogs shit in a nearby park, I feel like dogs cause so many problems in life. It's like paying for a child in your life, but one that isn't going to grow up and end up wiping your ass for you. It's going to be good for a while, then that little bastard is going to die, and its gonna be all sobs and running make-up. I feel like if Grandma died, there would be good reason to cry. She talked to you, made you cookies and stuff, bought you presents etc. All a dog ever did was shit on your lawn, tear things apart, and bit the neighbor kids. Animals die in the woods every day, and we don't cry about them. And they have more reason to be wept over. They didn't require anything of us. They weren't constantly begging me for things and ruining my life. 

Let me level with you guys. There is a profound reason as to my distaste to animals. When I was a kid, I had a dog. His name was Chief. He was a Blue Heeler, and he was blind. We got him for free cause our other dog would make a good lead dog for him. So, Chief was my dog. And I loved him. We had so much fun together. Well, as it turns out, one day, I came home and Chief was no where to be found. I was convinced he had run away. So I did what any sensible 6 year old would do, I went looking for him. I rode my big wheel up and down the streets of Draper Utah screaming "CHIEF" at the top of my lungs. It was like a movie. But, to no avail. He was gone. I was pretty upset about it. I looked for Chief for 5 days in a row before I gave up. Ever since then, I knew that dogs (And subsequently women) all eventually run off. And I warded them off forever.

Here comes the kicker. I had thought Chief had run away for 13 years of my life. It wasn't until 3 years ago that I learned that my parents told me that they had to give him away. So, that made me feel silly, but didn't erase the pain of a broken 6 year old boys heart.

I have ever since then hated dogs. I hated how happy these idiots were with their dogs. Their dogs weren't as cool as Chief! If I was going to be miserable, everyone should be. So, I carried on and loved things that would never leave me. Pokemon cards, to be precise. I eventually moved onto vinyls, and I am sure I will move onto something else. I think at the end of the day, I learned one lesson above all. Love something without legs. Cause if it has legs, it will probably run off one day.

I Now Know First Hand Why I Hate Clubs; As If I Needed Solidification.

Now, let me go ahead and stop you, before you start. I feel like everyone on the planet talks about how much different clubs are in Utah as opposed to other states. So, before you say something asinine like that, let me stop you, and tell you why that is bullshit. First, I have been to Utah clubs, and have now officially been to a club in downtown San Francisco. Yeah, yeah, yeah, make all the gay club jokes that you want. But, I am not going to allow you to ruin my life with negative comments like that. Cause it was a straight club. I promise you. 

I have a hard time understanding the difference of why people say things are so much different in clubs in and out of Utah. I'm going to go ahead and tell you the only differences that I can perceive between the two. Because frankly, they all kind of suck. Clubs in Utah will generally block out the shits, damns, and farts in their music. There is usually less people that are on drugs, or alcohol in Utah clubs, which isn't always a bad thing. Clubs outside of Utah also generally will have more skin showing. Otherwise, it's shitty ass house music being played so loud that it alters the proper functioning of your involuntary muscle movements, alot of people sweating all over each other, and a bunch of sleaze balls trying to pick up the easy men/women. Okay? So stop trying to make comparisons. Clubs across America are the same, and suck equally.

So, I don't really even know how I got roped into going to a club last night. But, in the end we decided it was a great idea. After a half hour or so of cycling through the three button up shirts I had, we finally were out the door. We jumped in a cab, and it was some East Indian guy that was talking to us and I couldn't really understand him. Cabs in and of themselves kind of suck. So, we finally get to the club, and the line is wrapped around the block. Which was something I couldn't understand. It was like people waiting to get into a concert or something. But, there was no good bands playing. We stood in line for like twenty minutes, and I almost wet my pants. We asked this security guy with a pony tail, that was also wearing a kilt if there was any way we could just go to the bathroom and come back to our spot in line, and he wanted 40 bucks. So we told him to go suck eggs. 

When we got into the club, I instantly lost my sense of direction. The music was playing so loud, and there was just people everywhere. It was a miracle I found the bathroom. I feel like this club was mainly designed to weed out any epileptic people before they get into the club. The lights were blinding, and even if you looked at the floor you had to squint when they were flashing. Seriously, the music hurt. I have been to so many metal concerts, and nothing has made my ears hurt quite like this did. Shitty ass dub step music.

So, the club name was Bootie. Like, pirate themed, but also has a nice butt innuendo. But, not to combine the two to make butt pirate and have more gay jokes being sloshed around. So, obviously I was going in there expecting to see some butts. Girl butts. But, unfortunately for me, there was about 4 guys to every one girl in this club. I would be dancing and enjoying myself, and find myself in the midst of four guys as sweaty as me. So, I kept moving, and it seemed like every girl in the club was making out with some Asian guy, while his three friends observed. Just, sausage fest. The biggest one I have ever attended. Sleepover parties had nothing on Bootie last night. 

I think what was more weird to me, was that at certain areas in the club, there was a congregation of gay people. Like, eight dudes kind of huddled around each other establishing their territory. And I know they were gay cause they were touching each others necks/faces. A lot of the times I would see them making out with each other also. The problem I had was not staring at them when they would be making out. People making out is so uncomfortable. And that isn't even exclusively for gay people. It was weird when heterosexual couples were making out. But, what was more bizarre, was when I would see three people in one make out session. I didn't even know things like this existed. But, I saw three mouths smashed up against each other on multiple occasions. Someone is getting screwed in this deal. There has to be one person that is getting like alot of cheek/beard/mustache/nose/eyebrow and not enough mouth. But, I guess you probably lower your standards when you consent to kissing two people at one time. 

After finally dancing my way around all the couples, gays, and Asians, I found myself at the door ready to leave. I was ready to leave the fog machines, the sweat, and most importantly the overwhelming amount of testosterone in the building. How someone can attend these clubs on a phsycadelic, is beyond me. I would be laying on the floor watching the lights and try and make sure my heart doesn't explode. I feel like clubs are just a way for people to go, get drunk, and meet up with other drunk people that are down to knock boots. In theory, that sounds great. But, what people don't always take into account, is the scraps. See, scraps is a term for the leftovers. All the handsome assholes, and the fly honeys seem to find each other. And they will take a cab to the nearest pay by the hour hotel. Then, whoever is left, is the scraps. I was falsely mislead into believing that there was only women scraps that were left at clubs. And that you could just fly in like a vulture, and pick some scraps and go home. But, the truth is, there was a lot more left over men than women. Last night, I was the scraps.

Truthfully, I was thankful to be some leftover scraps at this kind of club. I feel like there was a high risk of coming home with a nasty case of crabs from a place like that. I have never been one to go and hook up with a girl for one night. For a couple reasons. The first being I am not really cut out for that sort of thing. One night stands mainly lie in the hands of kids who wash their laundry on their abs, then dry it on their ego. Those guys are always assholes, and I don't really care to be loosely associated with them anyway. Secondly, I would way rather talk to someone, and get to know them as opposed to just getting thirsts quenched for free. I get way too emotionally attached to people. When I like someone, I really like them. And it's always apparent. I can't find it in myself to just work it with someone and never really talk to them again. Plus, who wants that anyway? I mean, it's all fun and games for a few years, but at the end of the day, the town bicycle never marries. Nobody wants a whore for a wife. People really ought to have more respect for each other, and more importantly, themselves. Take some pride in yourself. Have some self worth. Be better than meeting your demise in a drunken mans bed. Say what you want; oh, he's just bummed out cause he didn't score. He doesn't know he's just some bearded portly white kid. he would be different if he could get hookups for a night blah blah blah. All I ever hear is "I'm a big asshole." We'll see who's right in fifteen years. Good luck at the strip clubs!

A Night In The Woods. With BYU Kids.

I realize that this title sounds like a horror film. It also sounds like I have some kind of superiority complex about Brigham Young University and it's students. All I am going to say in response to that is; Meh. I'll let you go ahead and determine all of that.

I have a dear friend that attends BYU. I don't hear from him terribly often, but when I do, I am always glad to. One time, he and I were at a concert and this kid came up and sucker punched me in my head. So my friend elbowed him in his head repeatedly, until he left the concert. It was one of the greatest things that I have ever witnessed. Not that any of this has to do with the story. But, it does go to show that he is one of the coolest cats I know. So, I get a text from him saying that he is going up to his cabin with some friends and would love if I were able to tag along. I was happy to be a part of something. He did say that he was bringing some friends, and I was welcome to do the same. Unfortunately for me, my friends all suck. So I was going to make this venture on my own. I had my reservations seeing how he was probably going to bring his family home evening group, and I am a foul mouthed Snow College bandit that does nothing more than raise hell. But, I was always happy to go and stir the pot, ruffle some feathers and make some people uncomfortable.

After a long drive through Fairview canyon, I finally made it to the general location of the cabin. I was lost for a minute or two, but my friend Blake came down off the mountain to find me. When we pulled up to the cabin, there were kids in button up shirts outside playing horseshoe and saying "Sweet merciful heavens!" when they would get close but miss. My first thought was that this could not be more stereo typical. I came strolling up in a black Story So Far shirt, SF Giants hat, and carpenters shorts. I haven't had my hair cut in almost a year, and my beard is reaching a length that looks more and more like Al Queda every day. I look like the last time I went to church was when the priest dunked my head in the water as an infant. I felt like I was on one of those movies when someone criminal walks into the lunch room and there is an overwhelming silence, and everyone quietly whispers to one another, but never takes their eyes off the culprit. If I drank, I would have cracked open a beer at this moment and taken long pulls on it. I resorted to a knock off version of sprite instead and sat on the floor and stared at everyone. I wish I had a lazy eye and could've given people half hearted drooly stares like I had just recently been out of prison and this was my first interaction with people. I just couldn't do it... Yet.

Everyone got bored talking to and looking at each other, and decided they wanted to play a game. So, they decided to play twister, without the twister board or the spinner. Which was bizarre. Basically, it was trying to stomp on each others feet and try to push each other over. Which sounds right up my alley right? Well, it was still early in the night and I didn't want to make everyone look foolish just yet. But, rest assured I would have won. I just stood and watched with my arms folded like I was scouting talent or something. 

It started to get dark and everyone thought it would be a great idea to go out and play night games. And hopefully not get mauled by a bear or cougar. Or mass murderer. So we venture out into an open field and made ourselves perfect bait to get murdered, raped, or both. We started hooting and hollering, and seemed like we were trying to coax leather face from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre to come out and play. But, in reality we we're trying to figure out which night game to play. I sat on the ground with an eye always on the hills just in case I see anything or anyone approaching and I can run like hell and leave them to get scooped up to die. Have these kids never seen a horror film before? I mean, The Grudge doesn't count. Or any PG-13 movie for that matter. We finally landed on Manhunt. A game where two people go hide in the woods and the rest go out to find out where they are hidden, and everyone dies. Literally. Like, we go on this mountain side looking for the people that are hidden. Hopefully we don't step in a live trap, a tiger pit, or something I haven't even thought of yet. So, the kids run off and we count to 40. Then everyone ventures up this mountain side in an effort to find the two that are now hidden. I try to get them to laugh out loud to reveal their hiding place by saying things like "Blake! Your mom is on the phone! I told her you're in the woods with some other boy!" but that wasn't enough. I walked up this mountain face, got things in my hair and scratches on my legs, and almost had a tumble or two. Finally we found where they were, and decided we had had about enough of that game. So, back it was to arguing about what game to play. Finally we landed on... Missionary Tag. SURPRISE!!! If I had a dollar for every ironic moment, I would have somewhere between 35 and one hundred dollars. I give that cushion because I wasn't paying attention for most of the night. Because I was too focused on saving my own ass when a murderer comes to send all these college kids to heaven. Missionary tag was a game where there was one person running and another chasing and you had to link onto someones arm to be safe or something. I don't really remember the rules. It was dark and I would just push people and run away. After everyone had had their fill of running around (Which I had mine before the game started) We decided it was time to go back to the cabin. Where it was safe. 

When we got back to the cabin, everyone was jumping up and down about a new game to play. Which was beyond me. These damn kids couldn't just sit still for a minute. After some heated debates, we decided to play a game called Smurf. In essence, you pick a verb, and then two people have to ask questions until they guess what the verb is. Of course, the verb has to be a G rated verb. No verbs like dumpster hump or pantie raid allowed. I liked this game mostly cause I would sit in a giant lounge chair, and answer the questions. But, this game also involved the turning point for the night. I got a little ahead of myself and threw out a "Dammit!" They took me outside after that, and tarred and feathered me. Which only made me swear more. 

After a series of other games in which you try and find who is the most intelligent and I won them all, it was time to wind down. I was thinking of turning on Rambo or Terminator to settle me down to where I could go to bed. But, they all settled on Heavyweights. Which, is one family movie I fully endorse. Something about fellow fat kids just resonates with my soul. 

I finally retired onto a bed that smelled strangely like my grandma's house and slept like a baby. Until they were all up at 8 am having scripture study or something else loud. At the end of the day, I had a lot of fun with these kids. I think just before I went to bed they finally all realized that I, too was LDS and a returned missionary. Not an ex convict. Being an RM and knowing what kids go to BYU, I have my reserves about hanging out with their kind. But, for a night in the woods, these kids can keep themselves pretty entertained. Sober, nonetheless. I think I would get exhausted of showing my intellect and comedic genius every night. And not having ranuchy comedies, and dirty conversations to keep me entertained. But, there was never anything wrong with trying something different. And getting back in touch with my more holy side. It's been a while, after all. Rise and shout.

We Are All Trying To Figure Each Other Out.

Normally, I don't do things like this. But, I got a tweet from a dear friend of mine with a quote saying; "Why develop feelings for a woman when you can walk into oncoming traffic and get the same results?" and he asked if this could be a new blog. Normally, I just take whatever thought comes to my sick head, and put it on (paper). But, I think this could be good. So, I am going to go ahead and elaborate on this thought a bit. And if it turns out okay, and you have something you would like me to blog about, get me that idea. I will whip something up for you. Maybe even give you a shout out.
Allow me to sidetrack off the original thought about developing feelings. This will be relevant, I promise. I recently went and saw The Great Gatsby. Now, aside from hurting my brain trying to sort out a twenties movie that has such high effects on camera, and Toby Maguire making my life miserable, it was a good movie. The story was almost as beautiful as Leonardo DiCaprio. What I find amusing, is the comments afterward. All these women took up their torches and pitchforks in the name of Daisy. Saying what an ungrateful bitch she was, how could she do this, on and on and on. See, what I wonder is if they do this out of lust for Leo, or the fact that she truly was selfish and ungrateful. Let's say that Gatsby in this film was casted by Ethan Suplee (American History X, My Name Is Earl, Chasing Amy. Basically he's just a big fat guy.) and not Leo. Would these griping women feel the same? Or is it just that they think Leo is too gosh darn handsome to betray? What is funny to me, is that more often than not, women play the part of Daisy as opposed to anyone else in life. I see it all the time. Men go and put all that they have on the line for a woman, and what happens? She leaves. She can't shake her demons. She can't get over someone else. And so on, and so forth. (Yes. I am one siding this argument and turning a blind eye to the men that are cheating pigs etc. Get over it.) Men on an every day basis are giving their all in the name of love. And in the name of some woman that will take the heart that has been spilled in their behalf, and dump it on the floor. While we can safely agree that no man has purchased a house and thrown very expensive house parties in hopes of seeing a woman. But, does anyone do that? I mean, in real life? The answer is no. Men are so completely predictable when it comes to love, lust, and companionship in a woman. We do the absolute dumbest shit on the planet in order to say, set us aside form the rest. Or at least catch her eye in the process. And women brush it off like it was no big deal at all. But, God forbid that someone else do it! Especially to Leonardo DiCaprio!
I think that this is where this original thought comes from. Why should we develop feelings for another, when we can just walk into traffic, bang our face against a metal door, play Russian Roulette with all the bullets in the chamber, or army crawl through live coals and feel the same? At the end of the day, there isn't an answer is there? You can tell yourself 100 times over that you are done with boys, girls or both, but you'll find yourself with your tongue hanging out of your head when the next woman/man looks at you the right way. People that say they are fine being single, or never want to get married are idiots. They are just trying to delude themselves into believing that. If you don't want to find someone who loves you with as much capacity as you have love for them, you are an ignorant jackass. See, all this love, romance and shit is hardwired into our DNA. If we have no other purpose in life, the one that we can all believe in, and cling to, is love. The love you find in others. I think what has forced me to find that conclusion, is my own behavior. See, for the most part, I try and weigh out options, think, and make good decisions when they arrive at my feet. However, when it comes to love and a relationship, I act like a complete jackass. I seem the throw all reason to the wind. I will give everything I have to try and make things with this person good. Some people think this is ludicrous. But, the truth of the matter is, I can't seem to help myself. I have stayed up late on more occasions than I care to let on, and thought about this. Why, in all situations, is the one that I should be the most calm and collected am I acting like a maniac? And I think it's just DNA. I want to please this person. I want to make them happy. I want to make them like me. Love me. So, amidst all that, more often than not, I end up ruining things. And I irreparably burn bridges. But, those are the skeletons that I have to deal with. Some people may have other problems with relationships that are even worse. But, at the end of the day, we are all screwed up. To some degree or another. We all find that out eventually. So, why do we develop these feelings? I think we all have the slim hope that the opposite will be true. If only sometime. So we throw the dice, and hope that 7's show up. More often than not, we lose. And it sucks. So, we dust ourselves off, and try again.
I think that this was hoping to be more comical than what it turned out to be. Because it's a comedic truth. Why don't we all just walk into traffic? Because we are all waiting for something greater. Whether you believe that or not, we are. If you didn't believe that, you would have cut your ankles long ago, and be taking a big fat dirt nap right now. Not reading this blog.

You Would Probably Screw Everyone's Life Up If Given The Opportunity To Time Travel.

I always see time travel movies and wonder about time travel. Like, I am probably beating a dead horse when I say I think about going back in time and changing things. I think that everyone probably always talks about such things. Like, Man I wish I could go back in time and I would have said this to this person and they would have broken up with this other person then this little bastard would not have been born, and then my life would be substantially better. But, I don't really know exactly what I would change if I could go back in time. I would like to think that I would change something that I said or did to hurt or offend someone, but I really don't care about all that. I think I would go back in time and tell my three year old self to take my clothes off more. Because honestly, little kids get away with public nudity because its "cute" but, when I am nude in public I get arrested. I would just tell myself that people love it when I am naked. So, do it as much as you can. And my mom would have alot of gray hairs today. I think I would also go back and make sure that I recorded all the wrestling matches I watched on VHS and kept them in my tote. Cause seriously, what I wouldn't give to open that tote to find wrestling matches. All that is in there is a maze ball thing, an unfinished model car, old worthless baseball cards, some fake tools, and other things not cool. And I would not have let my cousin borrow my Sting wrestling doll that screamed when you body slammed it. That would save alot of spilled tears. I think I would just ensure that I turned out as weird, and great as I have. 

I also ponder about going forward in time. I have alot more reservations about going forward in time. Cause I would really rather not F everything up. I feel like I would like accidentally run into the wrong person and then they would do something about it, and I would then be a national fugitive of sorts. However, I would love to go talk to 40 year old me, and have a nice half hour chat. I would see who I marry, just to be sure that's acceptable to 22 year old me. I would also ask about his job, and then make sure that is also what 22 year old me wants. And I would see what paths I need to take to make things better for future me. Can you imagine that though? Like, what if 13 year old me came walking in the door just now? Wouldn't that be a trip? I would call 13 year old me fat. And tell him to stop swimming with a shirt on. And to take off those damn puka shells, and turn off the 50 Cent and Ludacris. Maybe then 13 year old me would get ripped rather than continuing to get fat. And I would be a cooler 13 year old. I wonder if 40 year old me would say similar things though. Maybe he will call me fat. And tell me to stop wearing wrestling shirts. And to keep listening to bad ass music. I feel like 40 year old me and 22 year old me would get along famously though. Like, turn on Monday Night Raw and have a Coke while we talk about smut, and how we dated the same girls. That would be such a trip. I would be willing to wager that 40 year old me still has a beard and watches wrestling. Unless his wife sucks. But, I would never let that happen to me. 

I just think time travel is such an interesting concept. I think overall, it would freak everyone out. I would scream like a rape victim if a younger me showed up, just the same as adult me would scream if I walked into his house. I think more often than not, I fantasize about time travel and the idea of it, because its an opt to make your life perfect. We are so consumed in the idea of perfection. Everyone wants things to be better, and we are consistently working towards that. I think I, of all people will refuse to stop attempting to make things better, no matter how good I think they are. While I don't know that that is a bad thing, I also am not so sure that it's a good thing. I think as long as we hold discontent with where we are, we will never feel okay. Which is something I have been thinking alot about. The whole idea of enjoying the journey, is nonsense to me. If you aren't progressing, you're regressing. So, in an effort to tie all of these loose ends I have created up, here's what I think. I think we can always be grateful for where we are, what we have, and the lessons we learn. But we can always be working for a greater purpose. This wasn't meant to be inspiring or motivational, It's just what I have been thinking alot about. And what I think about, I write about. So, stop dreaming of a time traveling machine, or a cure all for all your screw ups. Cause there is never going to be such a thing. The only person that can fix your screwed up life, is you.

False Advertising Really Grinds My Gears.

Have you ever noticed how most advertisements are false advertisements? I mean, that's not to say that all advertisements should be taken down for giving out false or misleading information. It is to say that most advertisements advertise only a portion of the truth. Have you ever watched a beer commercial? I have. They are usually about some happy half naked woman on a beach enjoying a nice Corona. 

As a man, I watch this and think about how nice it would be to walk up to someone like this, and purchase them a $3 beer, and then see where the night (or day. Whatever.) takes us. What they don't show, is that only girls that are overweight and missing teeth are the ones that drink Corona. The hot half naked women drink fruity drinks that cost near $10 for an ounce of alcohol. Which means you are going to half to purchase upwards of five of these drinks (that's $50 dollars on her alone for you math illiterates) in order to get this woman into a state of mind in which she is willing to make poor decisions with someone as unfortunate looking as you. 

They also don't show that women never take it slow, and usually end up puking in their purse, passing out, or other things that are entirely unbecoming of a woman. (That's why it's called white girl wasted. Cause more often than not, they can't handle their shit.) But, right then and there, it's a nice thought of walking up to a woman and purchasing her a bottle of carbonated goat piss, in which you squeeze a lime into, and you walk (Or stagger) into the sunset happily ever after. Until everyone sobers up. 

The other day I was driving and I saw a billboard for Goodwill. On this billboard there was a happy young woman that was wearing clothes that looked genuinely new. The sign said something about wearing it well, I don't remember. I do remember looking at this and thinking "No. No. No. No." First of all, the only time attractive women enter a second hand store, is either to find a costume, sweater or something else stupid in order to accommodate Christmas cards or something else stupid that women do. What they should have advertised on this billboard, was a kid with a mullet. He should be wearing a stained hockey jersey. Acid washed jeans that have a lot of holes in them, and construction boots. He should be missing one or two teeth, and the remaining teeth should be the color of yellow construction paper. The billboard should say "Because mom and dad had me out of wed lock, and can't afford anything else. Use a condom for the love of everything sacred." That would be the kind of person that shops at Goodwill for school clothes. Not joke clothes.

I saw a Dr. Pepper commercial recently that actually tickled my fancy. It was some guy that was out in the woods. It followed him through some daily activities such as eating bark, fighting bearing, canoeing and fishing etc. Should be right up my alley, right? Well, here's the thing. Its advertised for Dr. Pepper. Why don't they just do it for a tampon commercial? You can try and make Dr. Pepper as manly as possible. However, it will never change the fact that it is a bitch drink. Why don't they try and make diet coke manly? Oh, because they cant. We can't put Jeffrey Dahmer on Blues Clues now can we? No. Because it's contradicting. I'm sorry for every man that is out there drinking Dr. Pepper right now. Dump it out and get a Coke, or a beer that is dark, thick and disgusting. Then you can feel manly again. 

I think that we are all consumed in the thought of things being better than they actually are. At the end of the day, most things suck. I'm sorry to be the one to say that. Forgive me for being a downer. Things aren't always as they seem.

*COUGH* BULLSHIT!

So, that's it. That's the end of the blog. However, I am well aware that it is currently summer. And most people are running into walls as far as music goes. So, I wanted to just put up a little piece at the end here to let you know what I have been enjoying, and you can look into it if you so desire. Just a little public service. These aren't all brand new CD's, but they are what I have been listening to while driving a truck for 8 hours a day. And they keep me entertained. So, Take them or leave them. I don't care.

The Wonder Years - The Greatest Generation. I would be a liar if I said I have listened to the entirety of this CD more than three or four times. The reason being, I get caught up on songs that are so damn catchy and/or fitting for my life, that I listen to them over and over. The lyrics are honest, the music is punky. It's just a good CD. Be sure to check it out. Especially if you like catchy songs that relate directly to your life.

The Story So Far - What You Don't See. If you follow me on Twitter you'll know I have yet to shut up about these guys. But, I can't help myself. In the first 6 weeks of owning this CD, I had listened to the entire thing over 90 times. Which is absurd. But, I have yet to tire of it. It's solid pop punk that is so relateable to anyone who is struggling in life or a relationship. You'll find yourself singing right along with tears in your eyes. I have done it alot. 

Underoath - Define The Great Line. This is some of my favorite harsh/clean vocal duos in the scene. This CD is perfect if you are feeling lost as far as religion, life, or anything really. It seems to paint the picture for those struggling. Make sure and look up the lyrics and read along. It will mean alot to you.

We Came As Romans - Understanding What We've Grown To Be. This is my baby. I have listened to WCAR since they only had the Dreams EP out. I preordered their first full length the day it went on sale. So, I am always finding myself turning back to them. This CD is perfect for those (Like Underoath) who are lost. It doesn't deal so much with God, but about the world around us. And trying to understand things. This CD has put into words what I can't always express. It also holds one of the two songs that have ever made me cry. The title track made me cry like a little girl. 

The Dear Hunter- Migrant. This is just some good listening. Easy listening. If you don't like heavy music, but also aren't into the radio scene, check these guys out. You won't be disappointed. 

So, those are my playlists as of right now. It's easy to see that I have been struggling with alot. Which also explains my absence, and a somewhat dismal blog. My apologies. When I start getting it together, I will write stuff to make you laugh your pants off. Thanks for everything, and the tireless support. You guys are awesome. Smooches.