Try Restaurants I've Never Been To, Order New Things Off The Menu

So, I drove all the way from the west coast of my island to the east. Guess how long it took? 45 minutes. With traffic that seemed about as heavy as the roads could handle. I could loop the whole thing in about 1:30 I think. And that's not even in more car. In my car, I could run around the compass in an hour.

Which brings me to the main point I wanted to address. I really miss my car. No, like really miss it. (Not as much as I miss The Girlfriend, but almost.) Everytime I look around here I try to gauge how long it would take to get there and I always figure it out as though I was driving. Well, I'm not going to be driving, especially not my car. Bamboo shunt pain. I have spent my life driving at all possible opportunities. Need to go to the corner to get milk? Driving. Need to move a roommate across the apartment complex? Trunk is open. Need to pay for gas after filling up? I'm pulling into the parking spots near the door. (Yes, I have really done that. More than once.)

Now, it's all pedestrain means for me. I might even buckle and buy a bicycle. I have not rode a bike since the mission, and have vowed never to again. But, when church is an hour walk away, that's not really an option. I don't walk an hour for anything. I think the last time I walked for an hour was on the mission. And then I hated walking because I knew there were a host of better options.

So yeah, I really miss my car. Like really.

Word.

Everytime I Do It Makes Me Laugh

Ok so I have to run a photo dump for the past couple weeks. I really don't think a lot of them need a lot of explanation, but here we go. Also, they're pretty much in reverse chronological order. Sorry, but not flipping them. But to give you a recap of where they were taken, in Photo order, I belive it is Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Boston, Baltimore, DC, and Philly. And that, along with 90+ hours spent driving around in my car, has been my August. Not kidding.

Word.

You Know That I Could Use Somebody

I'm a tenderfoot scout. It is as low on the totem pole as it sounds. I've gotten some ribbing over it occasionally, but it is what it is. In my defense, they didn't have merit badges in baseball or contra so it didn't really draw me in. I enjoyed going to scout camp every summer and have sash full of merit badges to prove it, but I never did the little things to move up to the upper ranks. Little things like cooking a meal over a firepit, or camping X consecutive nights. To be honest, I don't see how any of that can be difficult. If a group of twelve-year-old pyromaniacs can execute it perfectly, surely I can handle it.

Went camping the other night. I know, it may be hard to believe, but it happened. Barely. Almost spent the night in the car. We pulled into the campsite around 11:30pm, and began setting up the tent using my car's headlights for illumination. We roll it, and stake it out and my brother slides one of the support poles through the top. He gets to lift it, and I realize that it would probably be a nightmare to slide the other one through with the top already arched. So we pull the other bar out and watch as it falls apart into about six pieces. The elastic cord that holds them all together had snapped about of third of the way down. It took over 30 minutes to re-thread them all, at one point I had to use dental floss and medical tape to get it all done.

So to you all you self-righteous eagle scouts (if they even exist), eat it. This tenderfoot got it done. I actually took a picture.

To tell you the truth, lately I have had too many things going on to allow me a significant amount of time to give anyone a full update on things, or formulate any extemporaneous ideas. That camping story came about because my brother and I went to Atlanta to watch the Braves get to Tim Lincecum and then caught Rascal Flatts and Darius Rucker perform their own songs as well as some old school Hootie and the Blowfish tracks. Drove up one night, caught the game, camped, drove down the next day and caught the concert on the way. You ask why, I ask, as always, why not.

The kicker is that it is only going to get more hectic over the next 17 days. In that time period I will drive over 4000 miles, traverse across 12 states, watch ball games in 5 different parks and makes two independent trips to the west coast of Florida. Oh, and then how about I pack up for a two week trip to two different islands, and then head off to a third to start medical school. Believe me when I say that I had to cancel a date night with The Girlfriend just so I could spend one night with my parents to celebrate my brother's belated birthday and talk about how things will be while I'm at school. Tonight is my last unplanned night for the next... I don't know really.

Needless to say, there are still stories that should be shared because funny stuff happens. And everyone needs a good laugh.

So, I'm at church with the Girlfriend, and in walks the former girlfriend. She was visiting a mutual friend that was in town for the weekend. Between Sunday School and priesthood, mutual friend and former girlfriend were in the lobby just chatting with people. I started talking with the mutual friend and looked over to see my granddad talking with the former. Now, you have to realize that there is nothing odd about my granddad walking up to unknown girls sixty years his junior and starting conversation.

After a couple minutes, I started heading into priesthood. Granddad had been talking with someone else for a little bit, but he shanghai'd me. He leads me over and introduces me to the former, calling her by a completely incorrect name. I gently tapped him on the shoulder, told him her real name, and told him, "I already know her. I know her pretty well."

He doesn't say a thing. Just flashes the old man Oops grin, turns and walks away. Hilarious.

It also should be noted that The Girlfriend became admittedly territorial upon seeing the former walk in. It was great.

Word.

So I Reached Out To Kanye And Brought You All My Dreams

An angel lost its wings this past Friday. At the same time, another angel got theirs. I had a dream and had done an excellent job making that dream a reality. You see, I wanted to live my life so that I never, ever, mowed a lawn. Ever. I made it through my teenage years and my mission having successfully dodged numerous "opportunities" to mow a lawn. I can't begin to tell you how close things got. At least once, I was mere steps away from grasping the handles and laying waste to all things over 2" tall, only to be reprieved.

Last Friday, it all came to an abrupt end. I was working on a rental home my dad owns, and had spent the better part of the morning scraping both sides of some 30 panes of glass with a razor blade. It sounds about as much fun as it is, but unfortunately, nothing else was left for me to do besides mowing the lawn. Reluctantly, I grasped the handle I had spent the last 26 years of my life avoiding. (For the record, I did know how to both start and use the mower. It did take me a while to realize how to use the clutch, but nevertheless, I got the job done.)

And like that an angel fell. However, the celestial balance was restored almost immediately.

Even though I had never mowed a lawn, I knew that there was a technique used to optimized efficiency and aesthetics. I also knew that I didn't know it. But Mike does. I sent him a text asking him what pattern(s) I should run. I get back a series of ha ha ha's and then a phone call explaining to frame the yard a couple times than go across the middle with a snake pattern.

And an angel is born. You see, Mike had a dream that I would one day mow a lawn. Actually, he has a dream that I'll spend my life doing every manual labor job imaginable. Granted, in his dream I'm successful and still able to hold season tickets to the local baseball team, but manual labor it is. Let's just say, he might win small battles, but the war is mine.

Also, to bring finality to things, Florida State said no, so I'll be heading down to St. Martin's in the caribbean for medical school. I know, it will be rough spending the next two years or so in a tropical paradise, but I will have to manage. The school is called American University of the Caribbean, or AUC. It's on a rock 36 square miles big. That's like Provo and Orem. Maybe some Lindon thrown in. I'm pretty psyched about it to be honest. It's almost like a second mission, only I don't have to wear a tie, can call home when I want, and don't have to worry about a companion. Ok, so maybe it's nothing like a mission. Forget you. I think it is.

Word.

Did You Forget About Me Mr Duplicity

"Paging Avril Lavigne. Paging Avril Lavigne. Please pick up the white courtesy phone for your message from jilted teenage girls."

So I was watching a show called Video Yearbook. It's on Fuse and it's fantastic. They show some of the most prominent music video's from a year, and the viewer cringes/applauds/dances along to what they used to love and illegally download. For example, 2004 included "I love the way you move" by Outkast. What happened to them? They had a slew of hits, and faded away after they made that movie Idlewild. Did anyone watch this? No seriously, I don't know anyone who at any point watched it. And yet, it clearly marks the death of one of the biggest bands from 2000-2004.

The 2004 show also included "So much for my happy ending" by the aforementioned Ms Lavigne (or Mrs Whibley, if you're on personal terms with her. At least according to IMDB. Want to see an impressive bio? Check out Avirl's on IMDB. Favorite part "One of her songs...is about an ex-boyfriend", implying that only one is about an ex-boyfriend.). She also had a solid career, but then dropped off the earth, save the out of character single "Girlfriend" which turned out to be the most downloaded song of 2007. (Really? Yeah, really. In the world. Not kidding. What type of aural garbage was being pumped out in 2007 that would allow "Girlfriend" to be the most downloaded song? Amazing, in a shameful way.) What I'm wondering, though, is what happened to the angry Avril that got her poster put on the wall of every girl aged 14-20 who just lost a boyfriend? Every five to ten years it seems someone like her comes along. Before Avril was Alanis Morrissette, who won six grammy awards for writing angry songs about past relationships.

My question is, who's today? Is there someone filling that musical void? That is a money reservoir that needs to be tapped. The closest person to filling that would be the country artist Miranda Lambert, but even she doesn't fit the profile, nor fill the need. Of one thing I am certain, and that is that there is a generation of teenage girls getting their hearts broken and being forced to play 5-10 year old songs to fully express their anger about it all. Those songs are probably sufficient, but none of them deal with today's relationship nuances. None have to deal with texting, facebook, myspace, twitter, or even email. Really? No break up songs about being dumped via electronic means? Now that is a gap that needs to be closed. If I was a music producer, I would be on the street tomorrow looking for some girl around age 18 who had just a little bit of edge, and then have my cadre of writers prepare some songs with a hint of vitriol. It's a no-brainer.

Word

Look What You've Done To This Rock And Roll Clown

So, I was given some static for not mentioning that Jared was on the trip. Here's why: I didn't have any pictures of him at the time. Now I do. So let's review the blessed time that Jared spent in St. Louis. For starters, we found the only Jimmy John's in the known world to close before eleven, forcing us to find a steak n' shake for Friday night. Funny story about that.

We sit down and a group gets seated next to us. They consist of about three guys, who the smart money would put as gay, and one elderly woman who reminded me of what Cruella Deville might look like when she hit her seventies. Anyway, we finish and were on our way out, and one of the guys asks Jared to play the crane game for the old lady. He politely turns it down. However, I over hear it, and turn to face them. Next thing I know, I'm getting dollar bills thrust into my hand to try and win stuffed animals in a crane game. I wish I could tell you I was successful, but alas, I was not. Four tries, zero victories.

The next day, we went to the Cardinals game. And it was awesome. Opposite of this photo. We gave the camera to a teenager who's gender was indeterminate. They took stared at the screen, and squeezed the trigger without any warning, freezing this frame forever. Thanks.

Thankfully, we had enough time to give the camera to someone who knew what they were doing, who took that picture. You'll notice it's essentially the same as the one above it, without all the suck.

That night, I questioned whether Jared was my friend or not. It was a dreary evening. The type that makes you wonder if the sun will ever rise again. We strolled into a bowling alley straight out of the sixties. (Really cool place to bowl. Would highly recommend it to all in the area.) I should let you know that I'm not a fan of the 60's in general. This should have been a sign that things were not going to go well.

Also, it needs to be noted that prior to this evening, I had dominated the head-to-head competition with The Girlfriend. Something like 9-1. Not even close. Needless to say, I was not concerned about beating her again. We bowled the first game, and by the fifth frame, I knew that A) I was playing horribly, and B) I was going to lose to The Girlfriend. Of course, that only means we're bowling a second game so I can regain my throne. Here's where things get bad.

I started off weak, but caught back up in the late frames. I finished the tenth frame and sat down comfortably with a 20 pin lead. The Girlfriend was up next. Jared leans over to me and says that all she needs is strike-strike-one to beat me. Now, my friends love me, and I love them. However, they really love to see me lose. A lot. Like, Jared was high fiving The Girlfriend after every strike and spare. I participated in no such celebrations.

Hence it came as no surprise, and I had done the same math on my own, that Jared figured out exactly what was needed to beat me. The Girlfriend had bowled decent, but was flirting with the 100 mark, so clearly thinking that she would get more than 20 in the tenth was a bit extreme. I figured 20 was the best she would do and we would walk away in a tie. She rolls the first ball, and its a strike. No big deal. I'm a little nervous, but even blind squirrels find nuts every now and then. The second ball gets rolled, and again all ten drop. Now I'm bewildered. I know that she has rolled a gutter ball before, but why would she do anything other than just safely roll it down the middle. Accepting a good loss, I already had my shoes off when she let the third ball go. What does she do? Does she go down the middle and pick up six or seven? No. Of course not. She picks off the ten pin and the ten pin only. Strike-Strike-One. To win by one. Simply beside myself. The other four going nuts. Again, all my friends love to see me lose. This sick turn of fortune over shadowed Jared's 170 or so, and everyone remembered the XX1 that was recorded. So much so that I was texted it. Twice. I wanted no part of anything that had to do with that episode.

Coolest statue I've ever seen. If they had miniatures, I would have one already. Even the horse was fat. Loved it.

Word.

But You've Got To Learn To Reach Out There And Grab It

Just got back from a great trip to St. Louis. Quite a whirlwind thanks to an assortment of activities and dining locations. Big kudos to Brett and Brittney for not only chaffeuring us around the town, but showing us the places otherwise left unseen by casual vacations. I don't normally do this whole picture show thing. Mostly because I don't normally take pictures. However, Brittney has sent me a little over a dozen, and The Girlfriend has a host of them that I'll get from her later. Hence, I'll share those from my sister now, and the rest later.

So we went to the Arch, but there was quite a line. Needing to kill roughly an hour, we went to the museum of Missourian history attached to the Arch. Let's just say, don't change plans to attend this place. It was quaint and informational, but could have been infinitel better if they would just let you ride the Bison, or other assorted display animals. Where's the harm in that? I say none.

Something about the arch, for those of you that haven't been. If you have any claustraphobia, avoid this site. You ride up in a cylinder on its side that can't be more than four feet deep and six feet in diameter. With four other people. Up 60 stories. To a railway car with tiny windows. That sways in the wind. Stuffed with 80-100 people. Nightmare waiting to happen.

Luckily, neither of us were claustraphobic, so it was great. We then traipsed over to Soldier's Monument for Rib Fest. I know. A celebration of meat on a bone, how could I not attend. Easily, the best ribs I've ever had. Hands down. Fantastic. Should have figured out how to have them mailed to me.

Ok, let's be real. Like I would plan a vacation during the summer of fall to some city that didn't have a ballclub, or that I would go there and not attend a game. Really? Do you not know me? I planned St. Louis for two reasons. One- My sister lived there, and I've never visited her since she moved there. Two- The Cardinals were in town that weekend. No brainer really. Nice to see the Royals get beat.

Best, maybe second best to the game, part of the trip was the various dining locations Brittney and Brett took us to. I have this thing. When I travel, I refuse to go to chain restaurants unless I have to for safety or sanitary reasons. Why go to some new place if you're not going to try the local cuisine? Seems like a bit of a waste to me. Knowing this, we never went to a place that had more than a handful locations, and most of those were still in town. Perfect. Great food all over that town. Big ups to the local recommendations.

Word.