I don't remember the last time it snowed on Christmas morning. So not only do we get a white Christmas this year, but one that could have come straight from a movie! Couldn't have planned it better.
This year I was more creative than usual in my gift-giving. I did the normal gifts for my parents/siblings that I bought at stores, but I also took on a time-consuming project of scanning old pictures and assembling them into slide shows and burning them all onto DVD. All told it was about 500 pictures, and even then most of the kids were severely underrepresented for their slide shows. I also put these pictures onto 2 GB flash drives and put them on digital photo frames for my parents.
I also made the mistake of wrapping these gifts myself. I am convinced that I am the least-skilled gift-wrapper in the history of mankind. I had trouble wrapping even the individual DVD's in their cases. On some of the bigger gifts the paper would actually start tearing as I was trying to wrap it around the gift. I soon discovered that, contrary to what I had thought, no amount of scotch tape can fix a bad wrapping job. Most gifts looked like someone had opened the present early and then sloppily attempted to cover up the crime. I think I went through like a roll and a half of wrapping paper just on gifts for my fam (8 in all). Ah well, it's what's on the inside that counts, right? See? It was just an object lesson. All part of the plan.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Another reason my phone is superior to yours
So my car is all packed, I fill up the tank and buy a couple rockstars. It's raining really bad but I figure I can drive safe and it won't be a big deal. Thus I embark on my trip to Utah, for the holidays. As I drive on the freeway, I see signs saying the "junction" to the I-15 from the 215 (this is near San Bernardino) is closed. "Huh, that sucks for people trying to get on from the 215," I think to myself. As I near this closed junction, I remember that the 15 goes up into the mountains. Something clicks. I whip out my trusty iPhone, pull up the maps application (traffic enabled), and see that the 15 is marked in red (very congested) for miles and miles in both directions of the 15/215 junction.
I quickly exit, flip the radio to AM 1070, and discover that pretty much every major freeway coming out of southern California, that goes into mountains, has been closed due to heavy snow. Disaster averted! I could have gotten stuck in a parking lot on the freeway and had to spend the night in my car (as many people have done for the past two days). Instead, I took a nice 2+ hour drive around Riverside county and came home. Now I'm waiting for two-day's worth of backed up traffic to clear up before hitting the road. But not before I buy some chains and a survival kit.
I quickly exit, flip the radio to AM 1070, and discover that pretty much every major freeway coming out of southern California, that goes into mountains, has been closed due to heavy snow. Disaster averted! I could have gotten stuck in a parking lot on the freeway and had to spend the night in my car (as many people have done for the past two days). Instead, I took a nice 2+ hour drive around Riverside county and came home. Now I'm waiting for two-day's worth of backed up traffic to clear up before hitting the road. But not before I buy some chains and a survival kit.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Pizza hut, you're fired
Perhaps some of you saw on the news recently that southern California was once again ravaged by a series of fires. The news stations covered the fires around the clock, interviewing fire fighters, owners of lost homes, and whoever else they could find that would talk to them. But these reporters don't capture everything. They don't tell the full story on how these fires really affect people.
For example, on the night the fires were getting a little out of hand, I found myself hungry. I had barely eaten all day. I was starving to death. So, as I am prone to do in such situations, I picked up my phone and called pizza hut (they are in my contacts). It went straight to their hold message. I stayed on hold for probably a good 20 minutes. Then I hung up and called again. Same result. I waited an hour, tried again. No different. At this point, I'm ravenous. My stomach was on the verge of digesting itself. I'm also angry at the pizza hut "team" for never answering the phone. More than anything I want to strangle the pizza hut "DJ's" that host the recording you hear while on hold.
Time for plan B: online ordering. I get on to pizza hut's website and submit an order for the pizza hut location I'd been calling. Everything went through. Great! Now I just need to go pick it up. When I get outside, I smell the scent of smoke in the air. Hmm, odd time for a barbecue, I thought. As I arrive near the pizza hut location, I notice a lot of police cars on the street, diverting traffic from closed streets. At this point I turn on AM 1070 and realize my city is on the verge of burning up. Sure enough, the entire commercial complex where the pizza hut is located was closed off. Every single business was closed. Ok then, that explains quite a bit.
However, this still didn't solve my starvation problem. So I drove to a Carls Jr. about 20 minutes away, and then waited another 20 minutes in its drive-thru. Ahhh finally, real food! Also, my city didn't burn down. Don't you love happy endings? I also learned my lesson and the following monday I went to costco and stocked up on hot pockets and lean cuisines, so that the next time disaster strikes, I'm prepared.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Who knows what one little email can do?
So, remember my email to that radio station? Apparently they're back to having zero morning DJ's. Is it presumptuous of me to think my lone email had any discernible impact? Perhaps. But allow me some indulgences. :)
-Aaron, championing the interests of public radio listeners since '04. (Correct: sending emails to radio stations regarding their DJ's or music is not a new thing for me.)
-Aaron, championing the interests of public radio listeners since '04. (Correct: sending emails to radio stations regarding their DJ's or music is not a new thing for me.)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Another reason to not go to law school
I'm in the Del Taco drive-thru the other day, and I say roughly the following:
"I'd like a number 5 [the fish taco meal], and then, independent of that, I want three additional fish tacos."
Seriously, who talks like that? I'm doomed.
"I'd like a number 5 [the fish taco meal], and then, independent of that, I want three additional fish tacos."
Seriously, who talks like that? I'm doomed.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I scare myself sometimes
The following is an email I wrote to the local radio station "98.7 FM." I'm weird, I know.
"I join with you in lamenting the dearth of good morning DJ's you have experienced in the past couple years. I moved to the Orange County area about two years ago and I chose your station as one of the few that actually played some decent music and didn't totally annoy me. However, your morning DJ's have always been less than impressive.
The first that I recall was that Valentine guy. I noticed very quickly how big of an idiot he was, and it was difficult to listen to his stupidity for more than a few minutes at a time. I'm glad you got rid of him.
Then there was Lisa Fox flying solo for the past while. Not entertaining at all. She was FAR too cheerful to be a morning DJ. No one is in the mood to listen to a care-bear as they're waking up in the morning. We're grumpy. We need someone witty and somewhat cynical that we can relate with. Someone that will make us laugh. That was not Lisa Fox, and I'm glad you moved her to a different shift.
But her replacement? Are you kidding me? OZOMATLI?? It's already cliche enough to bring bands in for studio performances and interviews. But to have them actually RUN your morning program? And they're a band whose music you don't even play. How pathetic is that? Every time the music stops and they chime in with their little "Ozomatli in the Morning" catch phrase, I am forced to change the station to one of the three other radio stations I find marginally palatable: KROQ, Jack, or some indie station. I honestly can't listen to them for more than a few seconds without getting really perturbed. I'm already grumpy. I just woke up and am in no mood to be barraged with the inexperienced and awkward radio banter of 2nd-rate musicians who sound like they have, maybe, a 200-word vocabulary. I don't care about what party they went to over the weekend. I don't care about whose "crib" they hung out at or which real celebrities they got to see. They're trying way too hard and it's painfully obvious. The solo Lisa Fox was WAY better than these tools.
My suggestion is to just get some college communications majors to come in and do your morning show as interns. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to do it and you might actually get people that are slightly entertaining and don't have to resort to half-assed ghetto speak to sound cool. They also might not sound like toolboxes every time they open their mouths. Oh, and you won't even have to pay them. Worst case scenario is still a huge step up from your current crew.
If they suck then just get rid of them and play music. You could probably do a traffic report every couple songs and make people a lot happier. I'm honestly more entertained by traffic reports (even if I'm not commuting that day) than I am by your current DJ's talking about the penthouse suite they'll be chilling at this friday, trying in vain to convince me they're cool or interesting."
"I join with you in lamenting the dearth of good morning DJ's you have experienced in the past couple years. I moved to the Orange County area about two years ago and I chose your station as one of the few that actually played some decent music and didn't totally annoy me. However, your morning DJ's have always been less than impressive.
The first that I recall was that Valentine guy. I noticed very quickly how big of an idiot he was, and it was difficult to listen to his stupidity for more than a few minutes at a time. I'm glad you got rid of him.
Then there was Lisa Fox flying solo for the past while. Not entertaining at all. She was FAR too cheerful to be a morning DJ. No one is in the mood to listen to a care-bear as they're waking up in the morning. We're grumpy. We need someone witty and somewhat cynical that we can relate with. Someone that will make us laugh. That was not Lisa Fox, and I'm glad you moved her to a different shift.
But her replacement? Are you kidding me? OZOMATLI?? It's already cliche enough to bring bands in for studio performances and interviews. But to have them actually RUN your morning program? And they're a band whose music you don't even play. How pathetic is that? Every time the music stops and they chime in with their little "Ozomatli in the Morning" catch phrase, I am forced to change the station to one of the three other radio stations I find marginally palatable: KROQ, Jack, or some indie station. I honestly can't listen to them for more than a few seconds without getting really perturbed. I'm already grumpy. I just woke up and am in no mood to be barraged with the inexperienced and awkward radio banter of 2nd-rate musicians who sound like they have, maybe, a 200-word vocabulary. I don't care about what party they went to over the weekend. I don't care about whose "crib" they hung out at or which real celebrities they got to see. They're trying way too hard and it's painfully obvious. The solo Lisa Fox was WAY better than these tools.
My suggestion is to just get some college communications majors to come in and do your morning show as interns. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to do it and you might actually get people that are slightly entertaining and don't have to resort to half-assed ghetto speak to sound cool. They also might not sound like toolboxes every time they open their mouths. Oh, and you won't even have to pay them. Worst case scenario is still a huge step up from your current crew.
If they suck then just get rid of them and play music. You could probably do a traffic report every couple songs and make people a lot happier. I'm honestly more entertained by traffic reports (even if I'm not commuting that day) than I am by your current DJ's talking about the penthouse suite they'll be chilling at this friday, trying in vain to convince me they're cool or interesting."
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Friday 5:00 p.m.
It's blisteringly hot outside (I'm in Riverside); I don't care.
I'm in a traffic jam; no biggie.
The radio isn't playing any good songs--or commercials; I listen anyway.
I'm hitting all the red lights on the way home; no big deal.
Somebody cuts me off. Someone else is tailgaiting. I barely notice.
Seriously, who needs drugs when you've got Friday afternoons?
I'm in a traffic jam; no biggie.
The radio isn't playing any good songs--or commercials; I listen anyway.
I'm hitting all the red lights on the way home; no big deal.
Somebody cuts me off. Someone else is tailgaiting. I barely notice.
Seriously, who needs drugs when you've got Friday afternoons?
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Soap Opera at the Gym
Like I mentioned previously, I tend to go to the gym very early in the morning, around 5:30-6:00 a.m. One of the reasons I like to go that early is because the gym isn't as crowded as it is later in the day.
That being the case, you tend to become familiar--and informally acquainted--with some of the regular crowd who also choose to work out that early.
One particular couple tends to draw a lot of attention to themselves. The guy appears to be your typical gym meathead: average height and very muscular. The girl is very short and petite, and also very muscular for her size (she also got a huge boob job at some point...which honestly looks pretty weird on her tiny frame). They are a good-looking couple.
But the thing is, they're almost always fighting. You know how you can tell when people are fighting or arguing even when you don't know what they're saying? It's in their facial expressions, their body language, hand gestures, etc. One or the other will walk up to each other in between sets and just start going off on whatever. Then they'll split for a few minutes and do their thing. Often the girl will then go up and attempt to apologize or smooth things over (I can tell because of her changed facial expression and the way she'll gently touch his arm or hand), but this often results in just another outburst from either him or her, and once again they'll split and go back to their workouts.
I watch these exchanges in twisted fascination. This is made possible by there being mirrors on all the walls at the gym, so I can stare without it appearing that I'm staring. I think what fascinates me so much is that they're fighting at the gym. It seems like most couples would save stuff like that for less public venues. I don't believe they're married because she doesn't wear a ring and I saw them leave in separate cars once when I was leaving. (Don't read into it--checking for rings is something that became habitual to me after four years of BYU.) Maybe their gym-time is the time they typically spend together each day. Maybe they like to fight while at the gym because they can simultaneously alleviate the stress through rigorous exercise. Maybe they secretly like the attention? I don't know. Sometimes I'm tempted to go work out in their vicinity and turn off my ipod and see what all the ruckus is about.
In any event, I appreciate these two. The girl, because she's nice to look at (hot girls at the gym=another topic for another day). The guy, because he fights with the girl and gives me something to inwardly smile about. Both are much welcomed distractions from the normal drudgery of my workouts.
That being the case, you tend to become familiar--and informally acquainted--with some of the regular crowd who also choose to work out that early.
One particular couple tends to draw a lot of attention to themselves. The guy appears to be your typical gym meathead: average height and very muscular. The girl is very short and petite, and also very muscular for her size (she also got a huge boob job at some point...which honestly looks pretty weird on her tiny frame). They are a good-looking couple.
But the thing is, they're almost always fighting. You know how you can tell when people are fighting or arguing even when you don't know what they're saying? It's in their facial expressions, their body language, hand gestures, etc. One or the other will walk up to each other in between sets and just start going off on whatever. Then they'll split for a few minutes and do their thing. Often the girl will then go up and attempt to apologize or smooth things over (I can tell because of her changed facial expression and the way she'll gently touch his arm or hand), but this often results in just another outburst from either him or her, and once again they'll split and go back to their workouts.
I watch these exchanges in twisted fascination. This is made possible by there being mirrors on all the walls at the gym, so I can stare without it appearing that I'm staring. I think what fascinates me so much is that they're fighting at the gym. It seems like most couples would save stuff like that for less public venues. I don't believe they're married because she doesn't wear a ring and I saw them leave in separate cars once when I was leaving. (Don't read into it--checking for rings is something that became habitual to me after four years of BYU.) Maybe their gym-time is the time they typically spend together each day. Maybe they like to fight while at the gym because they can simultaneously alleviate the stress through rigorous exercise. Maybe they secretly like the attention? I don't know. Sometimes I'm tempted to go work out in their vicinity and turn off my ipod and see what all the ruckus is about.
In any event, I appreciate these two. The girl, because she's nice to look at (hot girls at the gym=another topic for another day). The guy, because he fights with the girl and gives me something to inwardly smile about. Both are much welcomed distractions from the normal drudgery of my workouts.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Crap-wraps
It pains me to even write this entry. Any of you unfortunate enough to have mentioned the word "chipotle" in my presence have already become victims of my angry wrath regarding the tasteless garbage that passes for "food" there.
For those of you unaware of what Chipotle is: It's one of those places that makes a burrito right in front of you using fresh ingredients and you can order it the way you like it. For people who have been to Utah, Cafe Rio, Costa Vida, or Bajio's are probably coming to mind. Everywhere Cafe Rio (or its assorted mimics) isn't, Chipotle is. The main difference between these two restaurants is that Chipotle serves you crap, while Cafe Rio serves you something that could probably be accurately described as celestial. I've been to both restaurants so I know what I'm talking about. And for those of you doubting me, I even went back to Chipotle after tasting the unpalatable wrap of tasteless garbage, because a friend of mine insisted I hadn't ordered the "right" thing. So I went with him and had him order some chicken burrito with the works and guacamole and everything. I think I got about 500 calories into it before I had to throw it away.
I felt sorry for my friend. Like most Californians, he assumed that he had the best of the best at his fingertips. Everything that's hot either starts in California or at least arrives there quickly, right? I kind of analogize it to the tree of life and the great and spacious building. See, the tree of life grows Cafe Rio burritos and salads. Everyone over in the great and spacious building is eating Chipotle. I feel like Lehi, trying to get people to come over and taste the real thing, but they're adamant that what they're eating is so wonderful and great, so they won't. (If I never want to give a talk in church again, I'm going to use this next time I'm called, in fact.) The ironic thing is there are Cafe Rios in Vegas now, right at the heart of the great and spacious building, and what Californian doesn't make it out to Vegas at least once a year?
I had a very disturbing conversation with a friend the other day. I started in on my Chipotle rant, and she uttered something I could scarcely comprehend. She said that CHIPOTLE WAS JUST AS GOOD AS CAFE RIO. Shocked, I backed away from her, frightened that I'd get hit by the lightning, too. (To my surprise, it didn't turn out to be an unforgivable sin.) Then, being the good friend that I am, I tried to find out what was wrong with her. Asked her if she had been taking any hallucinogenic drugs lately. Of course she denied it but even so I suggested some reputable rehab centers and sponsors. I'm still deeply concerned for this friend (who shall remain anonymous, for her sake. I imagine that there are many out there with less restraint than I who would immediately resort to violence if they heard such blasphemy. Remember, everyone, these people need HELP. Violence isn't the answer.)
I get passionate about weird things. And this is one of them. After my friend made me eat the "best of the best" at Chipotle, I went home and found a facebook group dedicated to the adoration and worship of all things Chipotle. I joined it. Immediately, I went and posted on the group's board about how tasteless and nasty Chipotle is and how everyone who likes it has never had a well-made burrito-on-the-fly. After several days of being totally ignored, I sorrowfully removed myself from the group and left them to their cold, foil-wrapped, crap-filled tortillas. I even tried to get on Cafe Rio's website to find a number to call or an email address so I could yell at them for not coming and putting people out of their ignorant misery. All I found on their site was some virtual version of a comment card that you'd fill out in a restaurant. I filled one out. Still haven't heard back from them.
If this whole lawyer thing doesn't work out, I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to start a chain of Cafe Rios here in orange county and L.A. I'll put Chipotle out of business. I'll become rich. Probably famous. Maybe I'll run for governor. The sky's the limit.
Can you guess that I'm really, really hungry right now?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
The mystery of slot machines
As I walked through a movie-theater-made-casino in Vegas a few weeks back, I stared in wonder at the glazed expressions of people playing on the slot machines. Did they not realize they hadn't moved from that position for hours? Probably not. They also probably couldn't hear their names being paged to come pick up their kids at the theater ticket desk.
Then I stared at what they were staring at and became more perplexed. These vegetables didn't seem to notice that the thing they were staring at was as graphically stimulating as Rosie O'Donnel in a bikini. What I'm getting at is how ridiculously gaudy and dated slot machines are. I play video games. I do it for fun. It's fun because they have good graphics, are pretty to look at, and are visually stimulating. (No I'm not talking about Grand Theft Auto or crap like that) But I mean, the original mario brothers beats most slot machines out there in terms of video sophistication. If people already can be suckered into depositing money into machines that are less dynamic than your average coffee maker, then how much MORE would they be hooked by something that's actually pleasant to look at? As it stands, they might as well go to a nickelcade: the money they'll save by going there is probably greater or equivalent to the money they might have "won" playing the slots, and the games there are cooler and more interesting (even though they're probably 10 years old).
And they won't leave their kids at the ticket counter.
Then I stared at what they were staring at and became more perplexed. These vegetables didn't seem to notice that the thing they were staring at was as graphically stimulating as Rosie O'Donnel in a bikini. What I'm getting at is how ridiculously gaudy and dated slot machines are. I play video games. I do it for fun. It's fun because they have good graphics, are pretty to look at, and are visually stimulating. (No I'm not talking about Grand Theft Auto or crap like that) But I mean, the original mario brothers beats most slot machines out there in terms of video sophistication. If people already can be suckered into depositing money into machines that are less dynamic than your average coffee maker, then how much MORE would they be hooked by something that's actually pleasant to look at? As it stands, they might as well go to a nickelcade: the money they'll save by going there is probably greater or equivalent to the money they might have "won" playing the slots, and the games there are cooler and more interesting (even though they're probably 10 years old).
And they won't leave their kids at the ticket counter.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
I guess I'm a morning person
So this morning my alarm goes off at 5:30, as usual. I turn it off. I think "I'm going to take it easy today. After all my back still kind of hurts from straining it last week and I need a break."
Couldn't get back to sleep. So a half hour later I just up and go to the gym anyway. What's gotten into me? I wonder if I've just trained myself to be a morning person. I've been getting up relatively early ever since about 1999, when I started working the early-morning shift at UPS (3:30 a.m.). Then it was the mission (6:30), then back to UPS, then regular job for a while (7:00), now here. On weekends I can't sleep in too late because when it gets light in my room, I have a hard time staying asleep. Now for the past 5-6 months I've been doing the early-morning gym routine.
Oh well, I guess there are worse things.
Couldn't get back to sleep. So a half hour later I just up and go to the gym anyway. What's gotten into me? I wonder if I've just trained myself to be a morning person. I've been getting up relatively early ever since about 1999, when I started working the early-morning shift at UPS (3:30 a.m.). Then it was the mission (6:30), then back to UPS, then regular job for a while (7:00), now here. On weekends I can't sleep in too late because when it gets light in my room, I have a hard time staying asleep. Now for the past 5-6 months I've been doing the early-morning gym routine.
Oh well, I guess there are worse things.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Third Wheel
This past weekend a friend invited me to go to Vegas, where she lives. She said she needed someone to take to a wedding reception and she also wanted to see me/hang out with me. At first I wasn't sure because work was busy and I didn't feel comfortable leaving work early on Friday to get there on time. But in the end I decided what the heck, took some stuff with me from work (to work on later), and jumped in the car and drove out.
We go to the wedding reception. It's interesting. Odd couple. But the food isn't totally unpalatable so I'm happy. Then we go back to her place and meet up with her (male) roommate and decide to go see a movie. So we go see a movie. Two guys and a girl. A little weird for me--but no big deal.
Next day after she gets off work we go to hang out again. This time she tosses her keys to her roommate and has him drive. I get the back seat. Sweet! Now I'm officially the third wheel. They continue their banter from last night about life in Vegas and friends they have and gossip and just talking about their lives in general. I don't know what they're talking about. I feel a bit left out, not sure how to contribute, other than saying "Oh who is so-and-so? Why was that funny? What happened there? Let me in on it all!" (Of course I didn't say any of that. I wasn't raised in a cave.)
I'll be honest: no one has ever invited me to drive 3 1/2 hours to visit them only to make me the third wheel for the weekend while they hung out with their roommate. I was a bit taken aback. Didn't really know what to make of it. Ultimately I decided I wasn't having much fun, so at midnight on Saturday I hopped in my car and drove home.
Am I being hypersensitive? I don't know. I felt like a genuine outsider to everything going on. Personally if I invited someone here to "hang out" with me and I professed wanting to see them, I think I would at least make them feel like they were more than a stranger who is crashing on the couch for a couple days that is tagging along with me and my friends while we do our normal weekend thing.
I had a buddy years ago who always wanted to be the third wheel. I'd invite girls to hang out or whatever and I'd encourage him to get a date or find someone to take along. For some reason he rarely would and often it'd end up being me, my date, and him. Not that I felt intimidated or anything, it was just weird. It's like, if you put two males with an attractive girl, even if one is not "interested" in the girl, it still seems like there's an invisible struggle for attention going on. This seems normal, actually, because when three people are together there's usually only two ways to divide any single person's attention. Anyway, after my buddy kept this up for a while I vowed to never do it again. In the following years living with my old roommate Josh, we would never be a third wheel to each other. It was either you had a date or you went back to your room and played video games or listened to music. No exceptions!
So that was my weekend. How was yours? Oh--highlight of the weekend: While my "friend" was at work, I went to a nearby Ross and bought this dark brown perry ellis polo. It's an amazing fit and super comfortable. And because it was Ross, it was cheap. Score!
Friday, July 4, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Should've seen it coming
So I was stupid (surprise surprise) and messed up my rental car reservation. I flew in to Salt Lake on Sunday night, and mistakenly made my reservation starting Monday night (Note: if you make car rental reservations over Priceline, make sure you've got the right date and times, because the independent rental company can't modify the reservation once your bid is accepted). No one wanted to take me back to the airport on Monday (can't blame them), so I took buses and TRAX to get up there.
Once there, I went to the counter and got everything squared away. I asked the guy what car I'd be driving and he said "Oh probably something like a Ford Focus or Chevy Aveo." Pretty lame picks if you ask me but who cares, it's just to get around, right? Well I walk out to the guy with all the keys, and he hands me a pair that fit a Mitsubishi. The spot he told me to go to (F22) had a minivan in it, so that couldn't be right, but E22 had an Eclipse parked in it. Sure enough, my keys were to the Eclipse. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to drive this sporty little car. I'd always thought Eclipses looked cool, and this one looked to be only a couple years old.
It's a fun little car I guess. There's only like 3 inches of leg room in the back seat, so I would never buy one, but for rental purposes it's fine. I've been a little unimpressed with its power. You'd think a small sporty car like that would have some all right acceleration, but not really. My Passatt has a lot more power than this Eclipse. Smoother ride and less exterior noise, as well. The interior looks pretty, though. The exterior, too. It's all show, I've decided.
This, of course, didn't prevent me from driving fast on the freeway. There's something about being in a sporty little car that compelled me to go fast and weave in and out of traffic. Now I understand why they do that. (I also want to point out that Utah drivers, at least on the freeway, are more courteous when it comes to letting you pass than California drivers. Almost everyone I caught up with in the fast lane would move over to let me pass. In California? Yeah, right.)
My fun ended when I shot past a highway patrolman in a big suburban. As I shot past, I noticed that it was probably a cop, so I slowed down, but then I had to speed up again to get around someone for my exit. Busted. Got pulled over...I was probably doing 85-90. Fortunately I think the cop bought my story about being from out of state and there just visiting, so he wrote me up for going only 9 mph over the speed limit (which prevents the ticket from going on my record). Nice enough guy, I suppose. I should've told him I just wasn't used to the speedometer, which doesn't even have a "90" mph indicator. It would've only been half-true, anyway.
Was this story very interesting or exciting or humorous? Not really. But hey, I'm going to pay $82 bucks for it, so gimme a break.
Once there, I went to the counter and got everything squared away. I asked the guy what car I'd be driving and he said "Oh probably something like a Ford Focus or Chevy Aveo." Pretty lame picks if you ask me but who cares, it's just to get around, right? Well I walk out to the guy with all the keys, and he hands me a pair that fit a Mitsubishi. The spot he told me to go to (F22) had a minivan in it, so that couldn't be right, but E22 had an Eclipse parked in it. Sure enough, my keys were to the Eclipse. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to drive this sporty little car. I'd always thought Eclipses looked cool, and this one looked to be only a couple years old.
It's a fun little car I guess. There's only like 3 inches of leg room in the back seat, so I would never buy one, but for rental purposes it's fine. I've been a little unimpressed with its power. You'd think a small sporty car like that would have some all right acceleration, but not really. My Passatt has a lot more power than this Eclipse. Smoother ride and less exterior noise, as well. The interior looks pretty, though. The exterior, too. It's all show, I've decided.
This, of course, didn't prevent me from driving fast on the freeway. There's something about being in a sporty little car that compelled me to go fast and weave in and out of traffic. Now I understand why they do that. (I also want to point out that Utah drivers, at least on the freeway, are more courteous when it comes to letting you pass than California drivers. Almost everyone I caught up with in the fast lane would move over to let me pass. In California? Yeah, right.)
My fun ended when I shot past a highway patrolman in a big suburban. As I shot past, I noticed that it was probably a cop, so I slowed down, but then I had to speed up again to get around someone for my exit. Busted. Got pulled over...I was probably doing 85-90. Fortunately I think the cop bought my story about being from out of state and there just visiting, so he wrote me up for going only 9 mph over the speed limit (which prevents the ticket from going on my record). Nice enough guy, I suppose. I should've told him I just wasn't used to the speedometer, which doesn't even have a "90" mph indicator. It would've only been half-true, anyway.
Was this story very interesting or exciting or humorous? Not really. But hey, I'm going to pay $82 bucks for it, so gimme a break.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
George Lucas: Destroyer of Films
I should have known. I had "a bad feeling about this" movie when 'Lucasfilm Ltd.' flashed across the screen as the movie started. My fears would shortly be confirmed all too painfully.
I went to the theater with my cousin and his friend, Jim. They went and saw Ironman, but I had already seen it and was loathe to spend $10 on a movie I had already seen. Jim had seen Indiana Jones before, and he said to me "Well I won't tell you what I think about it until after. It's Indiana Jones! You have to see it!" Me: "Yeah you're right. Of course I need to see it." This exchange actually gave me a glimmer of hope, even after I had heard a disturbing second-hand review of the movie here.
About five minutes into the movie, to my horror I realized I had no reception on my cell phone. In vain I tried to text a friend and communicate my misery. No luck. Halfway through I got a sliver of reception and a text message got through to me. Then it immediately disappeared and I was once again left with nothing to alleviate my boredom. I even thought of trying to beat my high score on "bejeweled."
After the movie I came up to Jim and said, "Jim, if a loved one were to come up to you and ask you if he should put his hand in a meat grinder, what would you tell him? Would you say, 'I know what putting your hand in a meat grinder feels like, but you should do it yourself so you can know too!' Is that what you'd tell him, Jim?" The sick bastard just laughed at me hysterically.
Well folks, I'm not like him, and I will tell you straight up, DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE. If you absolutely must, wait for it to come out on video, and watch it only as background noise to some other moderately important task to which you can devote most of your attention. It was just terrible. Absolutely awful. Worst movie I've seen in a long time.
First you've got Cate Blanchett with an ugly wig and an even uglier Russian accent. Oh yeah, she's also some kind of psychic that can open warehouse doors with her mind, but can't crack old Indy. And she carries around a rapier? WTF.
Next you've got good old Indy. Up to his same old tricks, you know: dodging bullets, using his whip like a pro, beating Russians up, surviving nuclear blasts in refrigerators, the usual! (Of course that's realistic, stupid audience, the fridge was lined with lead! Don't you know anything?) Harrison Ford's natural coolness was undermined by the corny lines he was forced to utter and the general silliness that set the mood of this movie.
Then you've got Shia LaBeouf as the young punk greaser kid who is arrogant and likes to make fun of the "old man" Indiana Jones. Turns out his mom is in trouble, who also happened to be one of Indy's old lovers. Can you tell where that's going? Puh-leeze. He's in here for comic relief. Lucas might as well have insisted on getting Jar-Jar Binx a spot in the flick for all the comedy LaBeouf's character brings to the film. I mean, the movie does involve aliens, after all. Oh but wait Aaron, isn't it funny how a motorcycle repairman is able to somehow swing through the amazon jungle like Tarzan, rallying a battalion of monkeys in a surprise attack on the Russian goons? Correct, that's not funny. At all. That's why you said "isn't it," right? Shia LaBeouf playing Tarzan and attacking people along with monkeys is downright silly. Not funny. There is a difference. "Funny" is using a live snake as a rope to get Indy out of quicksand. That was pretty funny. Sorry if I just spoiled the only funny part of this movie. Boo hoo.
Oh and hey wait a second, apparently Indy's dad died? Didn't he drink from the fountain of youth? Holy Grail and all that? The water made his bullet wound bubble away in Indy 3 for crying out loud. Now he's dead? Lucas, Spielberg, Paramount? I don't care if you contracted for five films. There is such a thing as quitting while you're ahead. Wait, I'm sorry, there was such a thing.
Aliens. WHY, Mr. Lucas, must we have aliens. Aliens to the Indiana Jones series is like Kate Hudson to Schindler's List. They just don't belong. Not one bit. Was Star Wars not enough for you? And Mr. Spielberg, you had your fun in E.T. and that other one you did. We don't need Indiana Jones + Aliens! You know better. You should have never agreed to this. It's not all about money, idiots! Do you have no dignity? Don't you care about respect? Quality? Most people would be fired if they botched something so good this badly.
My advice to you both? DON'T make the fifth film. I don't care if you have a contract with Paramount. Anticipatory Repudiation is the name of the game. Just tell em to go screw themselves. Maybe they'll sue you, but here's the catch: to recover damages they'll have to prove some anticipated pecuniary gain that they would have experienced had you not breached. However, after this recent debacle, any further production would be a huge loss. Surely you would lose money. You'd build on the "aliens" theme, hire people to do a lot of special effects, maybe throw in a death star and a rebellion or something, and then you and Paramount would lose a lot of money. You would be in control of the lawsuit. You'd just tell the judge, "Well, this is how we were going to ruin the Indiana Jones series even more: Luke Skywalker, ewoks, and Indy has to go on an inter-galactic treasure hunt to find his whip that he lost to the ewoks in a drunken poker game." The judge would then find, as a matter of law, that Paramount would have necessarily lost money if they had produced such a ridiculous film, and therefore they suffered no pecuniary loss as a result of your contractual breach. Maybe he'll even conclude that your breach served as an unjust enrichment to Paramount and they'll owe you money. If so, donate it to charity. Preferably some kind of mental health institution that is treating poverty-stricken people who saw your film and can't afford professional help.
BUT PLEASE, JUST STOP!
(You will notice that I did not provide a disclaimer to this blog announcing that it contained movie spoilers. It's impossible to spoil something this rotten. Har har har, maybe they should hire me to write their next script.)
I went to the theater with my cousin and his friend, Jim. They went and saw Ironman, but I had already seen it and was loathe to spend $10 on a movie I had already seen. Jim had seen Indiana Jones before, and he said to me "Well I won't tell you what I think about it until after. It's Indiana Jones! You have to see it!" Me: "Yeah you're right. Of course I need to see it." This exchange actually gave me a glimmer of hope, even after I had heard a disturbing second-hand review of the movie here.
About five minutes into the movie, to my horror I realized I had no reception on my cell phone. In vain I tried to text a friend and communicate my misery. No luck. Halfway through I got a sliver of reception and a text message got through to me. Then it immediately disappeared and I was once again left with nothing to alleviate my boredom. I even thought of trying to beat my high score on "bejeweled."
After the movie I came up to Jim and said, "Jim, if a loved one were to come up to you and ask you if he should put his hand in a meat grinder, what would you tell him? Would you say, 'I know what putting your hand in a meat grinder feels like, but you should do it yourself so you can know too!' Is that what you'd tell him, Jim?" The sick bastard just laughed at me hysterically.
Well folks, I'm not like him, and I will tell you straight up, DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE. If you absolutely must, wait for it to come out on video, and watch it only as background noise to some other moderately important task to which you can devote most of your attention. It was just terrible. Absolutely awful. Worst movie I've seen in a long time.
First you've got Cate Blanchett with an ugly wig and an even uglier Russian accent. Oh yeah, she's also some kind of psychic that can open warehouse doors with her mind, but can't crack old Indy. And she carries around a rapier? WTF.
Next you've got good old Indy. Up to his same old tricks, you know: dodging bullets, using his whip like a pro, beating Russians up, surviving nuclear blasts in refrigerators, the usual! (Of course that's realistic, stupid audience, the fridge was lined with lead! Don't you know anything?) Harrison Ford's natural coolness was undermined by the corny lines he was forced to utter and the general silliness that set the mood of this movie.
Then you've got Shia LaBeouf as the young punk greaser kid who is arrogant and likes to make fun of the "old man" Indiana Jones. Turns out his mom is in trouble, who also happened to be one of Indy's old lovers. Can you tell where that's going? Puh-leeze. He's in here for comic relief. Lucas might as well have insisted on getting Jar-Jar Binx a spot in the flick for all the comedy LaBeouf's character brings to the film. I mean, the movie does involve aliens, after all. Oh but wait Aaron, isn't it funny how a motorcycle repairman is able to somehow swing through the amazon jungle like Tarzan, rallying a battalion of monkeys in a surprise attack on the Russian goons? Correct, that's not funny. At all. That's why you said "isn't it," right? Shia LaBeouf playing Tarzan and attacking people along with monkeys is downright silly. Not funny. There is a difference. "Funny" is using a live snake as a rope to get Indy out of quicksand. That was pretty funny. Sorry if I just spoiled the only funny part of this movie. Boo hoo.
Oh and hey wait a second, apparently Indy's dad died? Didn't he drink from the fountain of youth? Holy Grail and all that? The water made his bullet wound bubble away in Indy 3 for crying out loud. Now he's dead? Lucas, Spielberg, Paramount? I don't care if you contracted for five films. There is such a thing as quitting while you're ahead. Wait, I'm sorry, there was such a thing.
Aliens. WHY, Mr. Lucas, must we have aliens. Aliens to the Indiana Jones series is like Kate Hudson to Schindler's List. They just don't belong. Not one bit. Was Star Wars not enough for you? And Mr. Spielberg, you had your fun in E.T. and that other one you did. We don't need Indiana Jones + Aliens! You know better. You should have never agreed to this. It's not all about money, idiots! Do you have no dignity? Don't you care about respect? Quality? Most people would be fired if they botched something so good this badly.
My advice to you both? DON'T make the fifth film. I don't care if you have a contract with Paramount. Anticipatory Repudiation is the name of the game. Just tell em to go screw themselves. Maybe they'll sue you, but here's the catch: to recover damages they'll have to prove some anticipated pecuniary gain that they would have experienced had you not breached. However, after this recent debacle, any further production would be a huge loss. Surely you would lose money. You'd build on the "aliens" theme, hire people to do a lot of special effects, maybe throw in a death star and a rebellion or something, and then you and Paramount would lose a lot of money. You would be in control of the lawsuit. You'd just tell the judge, "Well, this is how we were going to ruin the Indiana Jones series even more: Luke Skywalker, ewoks, and Indy has to go on an inter-galactic treasure hunt to find his whip that he lost to the ewoks in a drunken poker game." The judge would then find, as a matter of law, that Paramount would have necessarily lost money if they had produced such a ridiculous film, and therefore they suffered no pecuniary loss as a result of your contractual breach. Maybe he'll even conclude that your breach served as an unjust enrichment to Paramount and they'll owe you money. If so, donate it to charity. Preferably some kind of mental health institution that is treating poverty-stricken people who saw your film and can't afford professional help.
BUT PLEASE, JUST STOP!
(You will notice that I did not provide a disclaimer to this blog announcing that it contained movie spoilers. It's impossible to spoil something this rotten. Har har har, maybe they should hire me to write their next script.)
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I think I can't dance
Anyone who saw my head bouncing above the crowd at the HB dance will probably agree.
My friend invited me to go to a hip-hop class last night. I took classes like this back when I went to Gold's gym in Provo until I realized how ridiculous I probably looked. Then I stopped. Well, I had forgotten how ridiculous I looked and ended up accepting my friend's invitation. There was only one other guy there and a bunch of little kids. The mirror at the front of the room wasn't even tall enough to get my head (maybe this was a good thing).
You know, you would think I'd be great at hip-hop routines. It's all about keeping time and rhythm and all that, and after all, I was in the marching band for three years in high school.
Wait, what the crap am I talking about.
I'm just gonna blame it on my height. Sound good? Great. Hey guess what, I'm bored at work and really tired. I didn't go to the gym this morning, maybe that's why.
My friend invited me to go to a hip-hop class last night. I took classes like this back when I went to Gold's gym in Provo until I realized how ridiculous I probably looked. Then I stopped. Well, I had forgotten how ridiculous I looked and ended up accepting my friend's invitation. There was only one other guy there and a bunch of little kids. The mirror at the front of the room wasn't even tall enough to get my head (maybe this was a good thing).
You know, you would think I'd be great at hip-hop routines. It's all about keeping time and rhythm and all that, and after all, I was in the marching band for three years in high school.
Wait, what the crap am I talking about.
I'm just gonna blame it on my height. Sound good? Great. Hey guess what, I'm bored at work and really tired. I didn't go to the gym this morning, maybe that's why.
Friday, June 6, 2008
News flash
Organic peanut butter tastes way better than regular peanut butter. Healthier, too. Who knew?
Also: $5 large subs at Quizno's! Thank you subway for strong-arming them into this. Now if only the oil companies would start doing the same.
Also: $5 large subs at Quizno's! Thank you subway for strong-arming them into this. Now if only the oil companies would start doing the same.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Here's my problem
It's called reverse anorexia.
Ok, that probably doesn't make sense. I'm not even sure what the individual latin subparts of the word "anorexia" really mean, but I know it's a mental condition where (usually) girls see themselves as always too fat, even when they're sickeningly skinny. It's an obsessive-compulsive disorder. I'm sure I could wikipedia it and describe it a little better to make you all think I'm very smart and well-read. But who am I kidding.
Anyway, I think my current "obsession" with weight-gain (as in, I would like to gain weight--the good kind, not the peanut m&m kind) could be appropriately termed "reverse anorexia." I look in the mirror and I see a really skinny person. People tell me I'm fine and I'm not "too" skinny, but it doesn't seem to enter my brain. I'm hovering around 205 right now (I had almost hit 210 a couple weeks ago before finals gobbled up all my time and only lost 5 lbs during my little break), which is basically an all-time high for me. My current goal is to solidly reach 210. But I have a feeling that once I get there, I'm not going to want to stop. I mean, I used to say that I'd be totally content with 200. Not anymore I guess...
You have to understand where I'm coming from. I peaked out at 6'5" in high school, in roughly my sophomore year. Throughout high school, I think I weighed around 145 lbs. Pause for a moment and try to imagine this. That's a body-mass index of about 17. Anything below 18.5 is considered underweight. I was known as the "lurp" around the band room (yeah, a band geek on top of that). I would entertain myself by lifting up my shirt and sucking in as far as I could just to freak people out. My only consolation was that my best friend was actually even skinnier than me. I didn't care in high school. But after my mission, I came home and weighed maybe 155 or so, I decided something needed to be done. I think I got rejected by a few girls because I was too skinny. So I think I got kind of a complex. And that brings me to where I am today--205, close to a BMI that technically constitutes overweight, and still feeling like I'm too skinny.
Someone halp! Please!
By the way, either they keep this library way too cool here at work, or I need more meat on my bones. Uh oh...
Ok, that probably doesn't make sense. I'm not even sure what the individual latin subparts of the word "anorexia" really mean, but I know it's a mental condition where (usually) girls see themselves as always too fat, even when they're sickeningly skinny. It's an obsessive-compulsive disorder. I'm sure I could wikipedia it and describe it a little better to make you all think I'm very smart and well-read. But who am I kidding.
Anyway, I think my current "obsession" with weight-gain (as in, I would like to gain weight--the good kind, not the peanut m&m kind) could be appropriately termed "reverse anorexia." I look in the mirror and I see a really skinny person. People tell me I'm fine and I'm not "too" skinny, but it doesn't seem to enter my brain. I'm hovering around 205 right now (I had almost hit 210 a couple weeks ago before finals gobbled up all my time and only lost 5 lbs during my little break), which is basically an all-time high for me. My current goal is to solidly reach 210. But I have a feeling that once I get there, I'm not going to want to stop. I mean, I used to say that I'd be totally content with 200. Not anymore I guess...
You have to understand where I'm coming from. I peaked out at 6'5" in high school, in roughly my sophomore year. Throughout high school, I think I weighed around 145 lbs. Pause for a moment and try to imagine this. That's a body-mass index of about 17. Anything below 18.5 is considered underweight. I was known as the "lurp" around the band room (yeah, a band geek on top of that). I would entertain myself by lifting up my shirt and sucking in as far as I could just to freak people out. My only consolation was that my best friend was actually even skinnier than me. I didn't care in high school. But after my mission, I came home and weighed maybe 155 or so, I decided something needed to be done. I think I got rejected by a few girls because I was too skinny. So I think I got kind of a complex. And that brings me to where I am today--205, close to a BMI that technically constitutes overweight, and still feeling like I'm too skinny.
Someone halp! Please!
By the way, either they keep this library way too cool here at work, or I need more meat on my bones. Uh oh...
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
MIA
Just thought I'd drop a quick note to all two and a half of my diligent readers (Zarina is a midget). I'm still alive, I'm just studying like a mad scientist. Not a madman, a mad scientist. How could a madman study in a straight jacket, anyway. Maybe he listens to class lectures on his ipod wherever he goes, like me.
Ok I'm rambling. 12 hours straight studying at starbucks will do that to you. I think they resented the fact I only purchased two beverages. I copied down the phone number of one of the barristas when she gave it to her friend. How ridiculous is that? Not that I'll ever use it.
Hey guess what, I'm rambling again. See ya.
Ok I'm rambling. 12 hours straight studying at starbucks will do that to you. I think they resented the fact I only purchased two beverages. I copied down the phone number of one of the barristas when she gave it to her friend. How ridiculous is that? Not that I'll ever use it.
Hey guess what, I'm rambling again. See ya.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My first yoga class
I wanted to die. I've never sweat so much in my life (this was Bikram yoga--so the it was a closed room heated to about 90 degrees, with 15+ people in there breathing heavily). Halfway through I finally realized my shirt should be off and I just about ripped it off it was sticking to me so much. The gum I foolishly didn't spit out before class started dissolving in my mouth, and I had to swallow it. I half-assed most the moves, and I still felt like jelly afterwards. I just about fainted afterward--I was so hungry (and probably dehydrated). I just finished off a huge protein shake, and I think I'll go eat another snack before going to bed.
Can't wait to go back.
Can't wait to go back.
Monday, April 14, 2008
New car!
So I'd been thinking about getting a new car lately. I always just figured I'd drive my civic around until it literally died on me. But then in February I had some issues with it and ended up putting another $600-700 into it to get it up and running. Lately it's been making some more weird noises, so I decided to start looking for a new car.
Let me tell you a little bit about my old civic. I got it in 2002 after I got home off my mission. It was cheap and in good condition; I got it from a bank auction (it had been repossessed). Things were great until about eight months down the road, when I got in a little fender-bender (my fault). The front passenger side fender, light, and bumper needed to be replaced. At this time, I had a friend from Seal Beach who was really into souping up cars (he drove around a souped-up truck), so he convinced me to buy my replacement parts off E-BAY of all places (stupidest car-related decision I've ever made). Never buy car parts off e-bay (in case you're as stupid as I was back then). The "cool" fenders with these "fancy" little grooves in them were fine. They're just chunks of metal, after all. The bargain bumper fit fine, but the screws that attach it to the fender fell off and were lost shortly after installation, so for a while I tried to secure it with wires or makeshift screws. Eventually I just left it alone and it kind of hung off on the sides, attached to the car only up in the center under the hood. The lights were just a nightmare. They were these "hot" projector lights with these "halos" that lit up separately around the lights. They were like Infinity/BMW rip-offs, and it showed. Two of the halos never lit up. The bulbs for the normal beams constantly burned out. To make it worse, in order to change the bulbs, I couldn't just reach in there and swap them out. I had to take off the ENTIRE bumper and unscrew each headlight assembly just to have enough room to get the new bulbs in and out. In the last year and a half or so I just stopped trying and started running on my high-beams all the time. This makes people hate me, but hey at least I wasn't having to change my lights all the time. My parents were right about those lights. I will give them that much. Oh and he also convinced me to get this ridiculous spoiler while I was at it. The screws on it needed to be constantly tightened (a couple of them fell out while driving) and ultimately I just got sick of it, took it off, and threw it away. The holes for the screws are still back on the trunk exterior--I just didn't care. Oh and we can't forget the "stylish" altezza tail lights! Gosh I was so stupid. Ah well, lessons learned, right?
I've always wanted a Passat. Not sure why--they just always seemed like solid cars. Not too flashy, but also not ghetto. So yesterday I finally got one. I looked at a lot of used Passats for sale online and found one that looked good.
It had just come off lease, 2004, 45k miles, clean carfax--for only $12k list price. I went down to the dealership, took it for a little test drive, it felt good and looked good. So we get back to the dealership and the sales guy puts an invoice in front of me with it listed as $12.9k. "Actually, this was advertised online for $11.9k." He didn't believe me. He looked it up. Sure enough, 11.9k. So he calls to someone upstairs about it and it sounds like they're yelling at him and he's saying "I don't know! I don't touch this stuff!" Was it an act? I don't know. I doubt it--this burly Hawaiian guy really didn't strike me as the "acting" type. To tell you the truth I felt like the 11.9k pricetag was unusually low--other comparable cars were significantly more expensive. KBB value for the car was like 16k. He gets off the phone and says "Well you better buy this car now. $12k is a full thousand dollars below wholesale value." I bought it. I got some extra warranty/repair packages and so all in all it came out to $15k. I'm feeling good about it. No buyer's remorse...yet.
Perhaps as confirmation of my choice to get a new car, after I drove my civic home (I initially had to leave the Passat at the dealership because I went alone), I turned off the engine and could hear this bubbling/popping sound coming from the engine--almost as if something was boiling. Now I'm no expert, but I'm gonna go with that NOT being a good thing. Perfect timing, in my opinion.
I'll give the civic to my sister (the dealership didn't even want it as a trade-in--it was that bad) for her to drive until it's dead. Now until then...anyone know a place where I can park it for a few weeks until she comes to get it? Thanks!
Let me tell you a little bit about my old civic. I got it in 2002 after I got home off my mission. It was cheap and in good condition; I got it from a bank auction (it had been repossessed). Things were great until about eight months down the road, when I got in a little fender-bender (my fault). The front passenger side fender, light, and bumper needed to be replaced. At this time, I had a friend from Seal Beach who was really into souping up cars (he drove around a souped-up truck), so he convinced me to buy my replacement parts off E-BAY of all places (stupidest car-related decision I've ever made). Never buy car parts off e-bay (in case you're as stupid as I was back then). The "cool" fenders with these "fancy" little grooves in them were fine. They're just chunks of metal, after all. The bargain bumper fit fine, but the screws that attach it to the fender fell off and were lost shortly after installation, so for a while I tried to secure it with wires or makeshift screws. Eventually I just left it alone and it kind of hung off on the sides, attached to the car only up in the center under the hood. The lights were just a nightmare. They were these "hot" projector lights with these "halos" that lit up separately around the lights. They were like Infinity/BMW rip-offs, and it showed. Two of the halos never lit up. The bulbs for the normal beams constantly burned out. To make it worse, in order to change the bulbs, I couldn't just reach in there and swap them out. I had to take off the ENTIRE bumper and unscrew each headlight assembly just to have enough room to get the new bulbs in and out. In the last year and a half or so I just stopped trying and started running on my high-beams all the time. This makes people hate me, but hey at least I wasn't having to change my lights all the time. My parents were right about those lights. I will give them that much. Oh and he also convinced me to get this ridiculous spoiler while I was at it. The screws on it needed to be constantly tightened (a couple of them fell out while driving) and ultimately I just got sick of it, took it off, and threw it away. The holes for the screws are still back on the trunk exterior--I just didn't care. Oh and we can't forget the "stylish" altezza tail lights! Gosh I was so stupid. Ah well, lessons learned, right?
I've always wanted a Passat. Not sure why--they just always seemed like solid cars. Not too flashy, but also not ghetto. So yesterday I finally got one. I looked at a lot of used Passats for sale online and found one that looked good.
It had just come off lease, 2004, 45k miles, clean carfax--for only $12k list price. I went down to the dealership, took it for a little test drive, it felt good and looked good. So we get back to the dealership and the sales guy puts an invoice in front of me with it listed as $12.9k. "Actually, this was advertised online for $11.9k." He didn't believe me. He looked it up. Sure enough, 11.9k. So he calls to someone upstairs about it and it sounds like they're yelling at him and he's saying "I don't know! I don't touch this stuff!" Was it an act? I don't know. I doubt it--this burly Hawaiian guy really didn't strike me as the "acting" type. To tell you the truth I felt like the 11.9k pricetag was unusually low--other comparable cars were significantly more expensive. KBB value for the car was like 16k. He gets off the phone and says "Well you better buy this car now. $12k is a full thousand dollars below wholesale value." I bought it. I got some extra warranty/repair packages and so all in all it came out to $15k. I'm feeling good about it. No buyer's remorse...yet.
Perhaps as confirmation of my choice to get a new car, after I drove my civic home (I initially had to leave the Passat at the dealership because I went alone), I turned off the engine and could hear this bubbling/popping sound coming from the engine--almost as if something was boiling. Now I'm no expert, but I'm gonna go with that NOT being a good thing. Perfect timing, in my opinion.
I'll give the civic to my sister (the dealership didn't even want it as a trade-in--it was that bad) for her to drive until it's dead. Now until then...anyone know a place where I can park it for a few weeks until she comes to get it? Thanks!
Friday, April 4, 2008
My new style
I've gone through something of a transformation lately. I seem to have discovered a sense of style. I think I am now solidly on the path of metrosexuality.
First, let me give you a brief history of my style. I apologize in advance for not having any pictures to illustrate this story. When I was a wee lad, I had no style. I think I liked wearing those zip-up pajamas (you know, the ones with the "slippered" feet) as much as possible. I wore whatever my mom bought for me at thrift stores. This continued through high school and until I went on an LDS mission to Brazil. Yes, I said THROUGH high school. I had no idea what to wear in high school. I'd wear XL shirts (I now wear L, which fit me comfortably, and I am 50 lbs heavier than what I was in high school--and the same height). They literally hung off me. I'd wear pants that would taper at my ankles, and were often too short. I must have been one awkward looking kid. I wonder how I ever got a date. My mission style wasn't too wild. White shirts, ties, suits. You know the drill.
Then I came home off my mission. My new mission was to find a girlfriend/wife, and to do that I needed some style. I started going to the gym. I discovered stores like Old Navy and Ross. I bought some "stylish" and gently used clothes off ebay. Slowly, my personal wardrobe grew. After a couple years of no girlfriend/wife, I decided I needed to up my game a bit. So I forged ahead into new stores like Pac-Sun and American Eagle. I thought I could pull off some kind of punk/skater/preppy style (while maintaining a conservative haircut) even though the longest I ever stayed upright on a skateboard was 30 seconds or so. Still no girlfriend/wife after a year or so of that, so then I decided it was time for stores like the Buckle and Eddie Bauer. The Buckle typically had jeans that fit me, so that was a big plus, and to this day I still like some of their shirts. Around this time I think I finally got a girlfriend. So something must have worked.
The last couple years I haven't done much clothes shopping. My wardrobe had become dull and stagnant. I was tired of wearing the same stuff over and over each week. So recently, I have taken the plunge into metrosexuality (I considered myself an amateur, previously) by becoming a patron of stores like Banana Republic and.....wait for it.....NORDSTROM'S. At BR I found quite possibly my favorite jeans of all time, and a nice horizontal-stripe polo (optical illusion to make skinny guys look broader...haha). At Nordsrom's, I bought my first pair of jeans priced over $200, and probably my first pair of shoes priced over $100. I was told there's no turning back now. Once you get the good stuff, you can never settle for anything less than the best. So basically, I'm doomed. Hopefully all the money I save by buying all my food in bulk from Costco will offset the inevitable black hole I am bound to create in clothes purchases.
And check it out, after buying those jeans from BR (they are a tighter, slimmer fit than any other jeans I've ever had), I read the following from the fashion section of my Men's Health magazine: "The great thing about a lanky guy is that he can wear slim-cut jeans without it seeming too skinny or punk-rockish. . . . Stay away from baggy jeans: Relaxed fits will devour you alive."
That very day I had worn some relaxed fit jeans (that, incidentally, I had recently purchased at the Buckle) and noticed how they didn't look nearly as nice as my BR jeans. I wondered what the deal was. And this was the answer. So now I have entered a new era of "slim-cut" jeans. I never thought I would be able to wear them without looking like I belonged in an emo band. But already I've gotten complements on how much nicer they look than my regulars. I guess being skinny isn't all that bad? (oh, update: I'm up to 202 lbs now)
One last thing: I've also rediscovered the faux-hawk. I experimented with this a few years back but never really stuck with it. But I'm actually digging it and think I just needed to style it right, which I didn't do in the past.
Say hello to Orange County's newest metrosexual! (minus the tan)
p.s. No, I am not gay.
First, let me give you a brief history of my style. I apologize in advance for not having any pictures to illustrate this story. When I was a wee lad, I had no style. I think I liked wearing those zip-up pajamas (you know, the ones with the "slippered" feet) as much as possible. I wore whatever my mom bought for me at thrift stores. This continued through high school and until I went on an LDS mission to Brazil. Yes, I said THROUGH high school. I had no idea what to wear in high school. I'd wear XL shirts (I now wear L, which fit me comfortably, and I am 50 lbs heavier than what I was in high school--and the same height). They literally hung off me. I'd wear pants that would taper at my ankles, and were often too short. I must have been one awkward looking kid. I wonder how I ever got a date. My mission style wasn't too wild. White shirts, ties, suits. You know the drill.
Then I came home off my mission. My new mission was to find a girlfriend/wife, and to do that I needed some style. I started going to the gym. I discovered stores like Old Navy and Ross. I bought some "stylish" and gently used clothes off ebay. Slowly, my personal wardrobe grew. After a couple years of no girlfriend/wife, I decided I needed to up my game a bit. So I forged ahead into new stores like Pac-Sun and American Eagle. I thought I could pull off some kind of punk/skater/preppy style (while maintaining a conservative haircut) even though the longest I ever stayed upright on a skateboard was 30 seconds or so. Still no girlfriend/wife after a year or so of that, so then I decided it was time for stores like the Buckle and Eddie Bauer. The Buckle typically had jeans that fit me, so that was a big plus, and to this day I still like some of their shirts. Around this time I think I finally got a girlfriend. So something must have worked.
The last couple years I haven't done much clothes shopping. My wardrobe had become dull and stagnant. I was tired of wearing the same stuff over and over each week. So recently, I have taken the plunge into metrosexuality (I considered myself an amateur, previously) by becoming a patron of stores like Banana Republic and.....wait for it.....NORDSTROM'S. At BR I found quite possibly my favorite jeans of all time, and a nice horizontal-stripe polo (optical illusion to make skinny guys look broader...haha). At Nordsrom's, I bought my first pair of jeans priced over $200, and probably my first pair of shoes priced over $100. I was told there's no turning back now. Once you get the good stuff, you can never settle for anything less than the best. So basically, I'm doomed. Hopefully all the money I save by buying all my food in bulk from Costco will offset the inevitable black hole I am bound to create in clothes purchases.
And check it out, after buying those jeans from BR (they are a tighter, slimmer fit than any other jeans I've ever had), I read the following from the fashion section of my Men's Health magazine: "The great thing about a lanky guy is that he can wear slim-cut jeans without it seeming too skinny or punk-rockish. . . . Stay away from baggy jeans: Relaxed fits will devour you alive."
That very day I had worn some relaxed fit jeans (that, incidentally, I had recently purchased at the Buckle) and noticed how they didn't look nearly as nice as my BR jeans. I wondered what the deal was. And this was the answer. So now I have entered a new era of "slim-cut" jeans. I never thought I would be able to wear them without looking like I belonged in an emo band. But already I've gotten complements on how much nicer they look than my regulars. I guess being skinny isn't all that bad? (oh, update: I'm up to 202 lbs now)
One last thing: I've also rediscovered the faux-hawk. I experimented with this a few years back but never really stuck with it. But I'm actually digging it and think I just needed to style it right, which I didn't do in the past.
Say hello to Orange County's newest metrosexual! (minus the tan)
p.s. No, I am not gay.
Monday, March 31, 2008
200!
I am posting this blog in celebration of me reaching a goal today. This morning at the gym I weighed out at 199 lbs. I made a special point of eating a bit more than usual today, so I can say in confidence that I have finally reached my preliminary goal of 200 lbs! (Now I'm going to try and push for 210, which would be an all-time record for me.)
This leads me to what I want to talk about, and that is my diet. My diet sucks. The food I eat is generally nasty. If Costco didn't exist, I would starve. But you know, I sometimes wonder if I'm taking this "buying in bulk" concept a little too far. Often, as I sit there forcing down my fourth consecutive hot dog (I bought a pack of 32--I HAVE to eat them!), I ask myself "Is this all really worth it?" Are the dollars I'm saving in buying in bulk really worth what I put myself through every time I open my fridge/freezer door? I have a 10-lb bag of shredded cheese that I bought in anticipation of making a lot of quick and easy nachos. It's still 90% full and I've had it for a couple months now. Most likely it'll get all goey and nasty (not moldy--way too many preservatives for that) and I'll have to throw it away while it's still half-full, just like the last one.
People search far and wide for the best weight-loss tactics and tips. Well here's one for ya: buy a bunch of nasty food, in bulk, that will never go bad. If you're anything like me, here is what will happen:
1. You'll feel guilty for spending all that money on the food, and you will feel like you have an obligation to eat it rather than buy other food, letting it go to waste.
2. You will eat it when you get hungry (and ONLY when you get hungry).
3. The unpleasant experience of eating this nasty food will condition you to not want to eat.
4. You get used to not eating and don't get as hungry anymore.
5. You lose weight.
And this is my vicious cycle I get into. Then when I start getting disgustingly skinny, I am reawakened to my awful state and I hit the gym more, get a lot of fast food, and put back on some pounds.
The thing is, I HAVE to eat. I mean, a lot. I've got this supercharged metabolism and if I want to gain weight, I have to eat like it's going out of style and workout a ton. The problem is that I'm lazy. I'm too lazy to make tasty food for myself. Sometimes I'm too lazy to even drive down to Taco Bell. Other times I'm too lazy to even go downstairs and nuke me up some chicken nuggets (this is compounded by the fact that they are nasty). I'm too lazy to make food, but not too lazy to go to the gym for an hour. And here I thought I was a rational creature. Ha!
But this time is different! I'm feeling good about this goal I've had; I'm working out every morning early, and that's something I've never done before. When you want things different you have to do things differently, right? Hmm, 208 in 2008? Sure why not.
This leads me to what I want to talk about, and that is my diet. My diet sucks. The food I eat is generally nasty. If Costco didn't exist, I would starve. But you know, I sometimes wonder if I'm taking this "buying in bulk" concept a little too far. Often, as I sit there forcing down my fourth consecutive hot dog (I bought a pack of 32--I HAVE to eat them!), I ask myself "Is this all really worth it?" Are the dollars I'm saving in buying in bulk really worth what I put myself through every time I open my fridge/freezer door? I have a 10-lb bag of shredded cheese that I bought in anticipation of making a lot of quick and easy nachos. It's still 90% full and I've had it for a couple months now. Most likely it'll get all goey and nasty (not moldy--way too many preservatives for that) and I'll have to throw it away while it's still half-full, just like the last one.
People search far and wide for the best weight-loss tactics and tips. Well here's one for ya: buy a bunch of nasty food, in bulk, that will never go bad. If you're anything like me, here is what will happen:
1. You'll feel guilty for spending all that money on the food, and you will feel like you have an obligation to eat it rather than buy other food, letting it go to waste.
2. You will eat it when you get hungry (and ONLY when you get hungry).
3. The unpleasant experience of eating this nasty food will condition you to not want to eat.
4. You get used to not eating and don't get as hungry anymore.
5. You lose weight.
And this is my vicious cycle I get into. Then when I start getting disgustingly skinny, I am reawakened to my awful state and I hit the gym more, get a lot of fast food, and put back on some pounds.
The thing is, I HAVE to eat. I mean, a lot. I've got this supercharged metabolism and if I want to gain weight, I have to eat like it's going out of style and workout a ton. The problem is that I'm lazy. I'm too lazy to make tasty food for myself. Sometimes I'm too lazy to even drive down to Taco Bell. Other times I'm too lazy to even go downstairs and nuke me up some chicken nuggets (this is compounded by the fact that they are nasty). I'm too lazy to make food, but not too lazy to go to the gym for an hour. And here I thought I was a rational creature. Ha!
But this time is different! I'm feeling good about this goal I've had; I'm working out every morning early, and that's something I've never done before. When you want things different you have to do things differently, right? Hmm, 208 in 2008? Sure why not.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Belated New Years Resolution
Here's my new thing: early morning workouts. I now get up at 5:30 in the morning and go to the gym for an hour on Mon/Tue/Thu/Fri.
And here's the kicker: I feel GREAT! Who would've thought?
And here's the kicker: I feel GREAT! Who would've thought?
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Hey
It's Valentines day and I'll be in class until 10:00. Anyone doing anything after?
(I just wanted to post a blog so I can say I'm a blogger. We'll see if I ever do this again.)
(I just wanted to post a blog so I can say I'm a blogger. We'll see if I ever do this again.)
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