Why is Nirvana still played so much on the radio?

Can someone please answer me this? The band has been dead since 1994. It has sold 50 to 74 millions records, according to wikipedia. This puts it WAY behind other popular, contemporary rock bands that have sold much more music than they have, such as metallica, depeche mode, and guns 'n roses, to name just a very few. But do you hear these bands on rock stations as much as Nirvana? No, you don't. At least, not around here. Why can't we just let them die? They really weren't that talented of a band. Is the ghost of Kurt Cobain haunting the owners of large radio stations, forcing them to play his music incessantly? Are they still played to remind us of the roots of the currently-popular Foo Fighters? I don't know. KROQ (local rock station) ranked them as the #2 band of all time (at least, in terms of what they play apparently) as of Memorial Day 2007. #3 was Sublime, which, incidentally, was my next question. Why is SUBLIME still played so much?? Please. Let these mediocre bands of the past rest in peace. The fans who really care will still buy their cds and keep listening. But if you describe yourself as a rock station that plays "new" music, don't insult my intelligence and play old early 90's hits over and over like they just came out last week. Save it for "90's at noon" or maybe themed weekends where you play old hits. There are so many good bands (note, this does not in any way include the no-talents "Social Distortion") coming out with great music nowadays that you should have more than enough to choose from without resorting to bygones.

I was right!

See the entry two posts down from this one regarding working out with hot girls around. Now this little blurb from my January/February 2009 issue of Men's Health Magazine:

"It starts with boys showing off on the playground, and the performance never ends: When a woman is around, men work out harder. In a new German study, men pushed themselves 12 percent harder and complained less about pain during a bicycle stress test when a female doctor supervised than when a man did. Study author Christian Jung, M.D., says the results could translate to your gym: "Working out with a woman may help you push harder, probably because men are evolutionarily programmed to impress women," he says. Choose your treadmill wisely."

Validation is a wonderful feeling, isn't it? :)

Oh and also: new year's resolutions

I guess my first post for the new year should have been about all the great new year's resolutions I've made! This will be a work in progress.

1. Eat at least 3000 calories per day (at the very least, on the days I work out). I've lost like 10 lbs over the holidays. This is tragic and must stop.
2. Get a 4.0 in at least one of my classes this semester.

. . .

I'm certainly open to suggestions.

You will probably think less of me after reading this

You know what makes an otherwise grueling and painful workout much more bearable? A hot chick.

Let me explain. I don't know of anyone who enjoys the pain associated with lifting weights or working your body hard. That pain is just something you put up with for later benefits, whether it's increased health, a good post-workout sensation, bigger muscles, flatter tummy, whatever. If you don't experience some measure of pain and discomfort while at the gym, then you're doing something wrong. So what better way to distract your mind from such pain than an attractive member of the opposite sex? This has several benefits. First, there's the mere eye candy aspect (but don't stare, you creep). Second, she serves as a distraction. Third, you might complete your sets with better form because you don't want to look like a dork. Fourth, you complete all reps in your set because you don't want to look like a wimp. Fifth, it passes the time faster. I'm going to stop making a numbered list now because it's getting on my nerves. You might also decide to exercise a little longer than you normally would have, because of that person's presence.

Back in social psychology, they taught us that your performance will improve if you are being observed by others, provided that you are comfortable with the task at hand, or already proficient. (Conversely, if you are inexperienced with the particular task, or not confident in your abilities, your performance will worsen in the presence of observers.) I think this is kind of the principle at work here. Generally unpleasant experiences are made much more bearable with the presence of some positive association, whether it be a person, music, feeling, etc. This is also why sometimes I study more effectively when I'm with friends.

So in the end I don't think it's such a bad thing that gyms are "meat markets." That guy who has been following you from station to station for the past half-hour? He's not a creepy stalker. He's just using you to make his workout easier. There, don't you feel better now?

Merry Christmas

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

Hey how was your weekend?

Mine was great!




What.

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."

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?

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.

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?

Missionaries are such dorks

Don't believe me? Click here.

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.

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.

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!

I'm not the only one who can't dance

But this is pretty awesome.

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.

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 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.

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.

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...

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.