Thanks for the Memorex

My VCR finally died. It's inexplicable that it lasted as long as it did. But I miss it already.

Back in 2005, my long-time roommate Greg moved out of our apartment. He had tons of stuff (TVs, VCRs, computers, DVDs, etc.), and was very generous in sharing it. On the day he moved out, my other roommate Hardy joined me on a trip to Wal-Mart where I bought a big TV for the living room, a small one for my bedroom, and a VCR for each.

(In case you didn't know already, I'm a television addict.)

Sometime in 2007, something weird happened to one of the VCRs. The tape refused to eject, but somehow it continued working. I could record something, watch it, rewind, and record over it again. And the tape quality never seemed to deteriorate. It was still usable, I just couldn't use that VCR to watch my other tapes or to record something I wanted to keep forever. But it kept working time after time.

Until this week. I recorded something, then tried to rewind the tape, but instead it spit the tape halfway out and shut down. I unplugged it, plugged it back in, but when I pushed play it was just static.

But we had plenty of good times, and I definitely got my money's worth. Plus I still have the other one. And hopefully it will last for a long time, because nobody really sells VCRs anymore. DVRs are great, mainly for the ability to begin watching something from the beginning while still recording the ending, but I actually prefer a VCR when it comes to precision of control. Plus I'm too poor to get a DVR right now. Long live the VCR!

But I have been to a hootenanny in Oak City

Driving home from Provo last weekend, I saw some fireworks being set off. I'm guessing they were coming from the baseball stadium, the name of which escapes me for the moment. I just know it's not Derks Field anymore.

As I watched them, I began wondering why I've never attended Stadium of Fire. Then I started thinking of some other things I've never done:

--I've never attended a General Conference session in person.

--I never went to EFY. (I didn't even know what it is until my senior year of high school. But I do own pirated cassettes of most of the '90s EFY soundtracks.)

--I've never been skiing.

--I've never hiked the "Y."

Considering I've lived all of my life as a Mormon, most of that life in Utah, and a huge chunk of that Utah time in Provo, which of these nevers is the most surprising? I've also never posted a poll on my blog's sidebar, and don't plan to now, so just leave your answers in the comments.

Joke fiend

Today is International Joke Day! It's also Canada Day. I don't know if that's coincidental, or if the two are related, and if so which spawned the other. It's one of those chicken and the egg things. Or chicken crossing the road things. Or something.

I love jokes. I especially love puns. I'm a pretty good joke teller. I have good timing and delivery, especially when it comes to deadpan. But I haven't had a lot of success creating my own jokes.

The first joke I ever made up was the classic "Why did the fisherman go fishing?," and its variant "Why didn't he go fishing?" I used to tell this "joke" to my family, changing the punchline every time so they couldn't get it right. Sometimes he had run out of worms, sometimes it was raining, sometimes he didn't like fish...hilarious.

More recently I've been making a joke that hasn't gone over as well as I thought it would. Three months ago I bought a car, a 1995 Buick Park Avenue. When telling people about my sweet ride, I've mentioned that my car is almost old enough to drive itself. I've used the line about a dozen times, never resulting in more than a chuckle. Now I'm second-guessing my plan to start joking next March about the Iraq war reaching the age of accountability.

Compounding the problem, one of the three stand up routines I've ever written is now obsolete, thanks to Domino's new and improved pizza.

Basically, I need some new jokes. So celebrate IJD by sharing some of your favorites in the comments!

One hand in the air for the big city

Back in February I got fired from my post office job. I couldn't type fast enough to meet the standard, in part because I only use two fingers on each hand when I type, and in part because I was working graveyard shifts and couldn't stay awake. It's the only time I've ever been fired, and it was kind of a bummer.

Fortunately, at that point I already had a job lined up doing reservations with jetBlue (I had been hoping to do both part-time, but now I'm a full-time airline employee). I'm getting paid much less than I was by USPS, but there are some very nice perks: I have health insurance, I get to work from my apartment, and I get to fly for free!

A couple of weeks ago I finally got enough time off to take my first free flight. Not surprisingly, I jetted off to New York. Standby travel is more stressful than I anticipated, but I don't like to complain, and I did get on the flights on the days that I wanted to, so I won't go into detail about that.

It doesn't seem like it's already been about ten months since I moved back to Utah. It felt so good to be back. As I stepped off of the plane and began walking through the terminal, the Glenn Frey song "You Belong to the City" was playing. I don't like that song, but it seemed very appropriate.

It did feel like I was coming back home, rather than just visiting. As such, I didn't really do any touristy things. My goals for the trip were to spend time with friends, eat good food, and watch TV. That's right--I had been wanting to return to New York ever since I left it, but I chose that particular weekend because of a TV show. (Is anyone actually surprised by that?)

This was the weekend, of course, of the Lost series finale. I had watched many episodes with Erin, Jill, Tricia, and other friends, and wanted to rejoin them to say goodbye to the show. To prepare myself, my friend Laura and I went to the Paley Center (formerly the Museum of Television and Radio) the day before to attend a Lost party of sorts. We joined about 200 other fans in trivia contests, watching an "enhanced" version of the 2004 pilot episode, and listening to a panel discussion. I thought the panel was going to be producers and cast members from the show, but it turned out to be six TV critics. Not what I had hoped for, but still interesting.

Sunday night I joined Erin, Laura, and a few others to watch the finale. There were several emotionally satisfying moments, but I felt a little unfulfilled intellectually. I won't give any more details in case some of you haven't seen it yet, but I do have some things I want to say about TV finales in a later post.

I filled the rest of that weekend by going to church, helping sort donations for the stake tag sale, wandering around midtown and Union Square, and hanging out with friends. Oh, and as I mentioned, eating. Here's a list of most of the places I ate:

--A Salt and Battery (an authentic British fish and chip place. Yes, I had a fried Mars bar)

--Nuts4Nuts (but not Nuts5Nuts; that's just too many nuts)

--Gray's Papaya

--I got a piece of chocolate from Max Brenner but didn't have time to stay for a whole dessert

--Dinosaur BBQ (I had heard of it but never been there; it's outstanding)

--I also got a slice of pizza from the dumpy deli I used to frequent when working at Columbia. Sadly, the nearby church is still not selling burritos.

That's about it. It was a super fun, super fast trip. I only spent about $100 total, including subway passes. A big shout out to Joel for letting me sleep on his couch. Thanks Joel! Hopefully I'll be back for another visit soon.

Long in the tooth

I have a friend named Spencer. We met in high school. We have many shared media experiences from those days, mainly from our time as staff members on the school paper. In fact, Spencer was heavily involved in an incident that pushed my interests fully away from "journalism" per se and towards writing to entertain. But that's a story for another time.

Spencer and I have hardly seen each other since high school, but we're still sharing media adventures. He works for a local health insurer, and was heavily involved in creating some promotional videos for their dental plan.

But they weren't the first ones to come up with a tooth mascot named, well, Toothy. My younger sister works with Spencer's wife at the public library, and I had her drop off a video of a class project my family helped me make in 4th grade. Ashamed of his inadvertent intellectual property theft, Spencer posted part of the video online.



This was the first script I ever wrote, and the first time I was involved in any kind of video project. Not a bad debut, eh? There's so much to love about this video:

--just the fact that Spencer set up his camera to record the tape playing on his TV. So old school.

--my awesome family stepping up at the last minute. A bunch of my friends had volunteered to help out, but all bailed.

--our old school TV, one where you could say "don't touch that dial" and it would actually make sense.

--my sister's big hair underneath her chef's hat.

--my brother seeming WAY too happy when he hears that "Toothy's in trouble."

--the funky positioning of my arms and hands during my brief cameo.

--my mom's great camera work and truly amazing costumes.

--most of all, my dad's tour de force performance as Mr. Cavity. For one thing, after his double knee replacement surgery last year, it would take him at least five minutes now to get up from a fall like that. And his acting was deliciously over the top. I had no idea my dad was a fan of Paul Lynde.

This was only a small portion of the entire video. I think the whole thing is about four minutes long, featuring an extended scene with the chef developing the secret Cavity Busters recipe, and me promoting the stores that sell it with a very crudely drawn poster.

Perhaps someday the entire production will find its way to the Interwebs, where it can be come back to haunt me if I ever become really famous. Thanks for posting, Spencer.

Blogger Brawl: The Lost Entries, Vol. 2

Missing out on a chance to have a paid weekly blog on MormonTimes.com was bad enough, but now, it seems if I had reached the finals I could've participated in a super-cheesy Rocky-esque photoshoot. I'm so bummed out.

But at least the contest generated some new content for this blog. Here is the piece I had ready to turn in if I had reached the finals. All links and italicized comments would have been left out of the "real" entry.

Thank you to everyone who has voted so far and helped me reach this point of the competition. It’s been a lot of fun.

A few years ago, while an undergrad at BYU, my roommate Will and I watched a VH1 show ranking the 200 greatest pop culture icons of all-time. While some of the rankings were dubious (JFK was ranked 32nd, but JFK Jr. was #24), the show inspired us to make our own list of the top 200 Mormon pop culture icons. Should I emerge victorious from this Blogger Brawl, and should that list be expanded to one thousand names, I’d like to think I’d have a spot on it. [It's tempting for me to attack that list in the same manner as the top 500 songs list that dominated my blog last year, but I'll try to refrain.]

Around the time we were making our list, I saw an article in the BYU newspaper about Andrea Finch, who had recently been crowned as America’s Junior Miss, and would be enrolling at BYU that fall. I found her address in the online directory and sent her an e-mail, introducing myself and explaining our list.

I told her we hoped to turn it into a show on BYUTV (which was true, but there was basically zero chance of that ever happening) and invited her to be the host, figuring she would be good at it but mainly trying to figure out a way to get a date with a Miss America-type.

Amazingly, she responded, saying she’d be interested if it fit in with her busy public appearance schedule. I replied that the show was still in pre-production and might not make it to air, but I would keep her updated. We had no further contact.

This was not the only time I attempted an elaborate, far-fetched scheme to get a date. I once found a cute game show contestant on MySpace (how did people ever stalk each other before the Internet?) and sent her a message letting her know how much I enjoyed her performance. [I chronicled this in much more detail here.]

Another time, while working as a reporter for the aforementioned BYU newspaper, I was interviewing a really cute girl about her recent victory in a Dancesport competition. I asked her “off the record” if she had a boyfriend, and if she would mind if I asked her out. This was certainly a more realistic scenario, but I chickened out and never called her again. [This was actually a girl I knew, the first one I had a crush on after my mission. I didn't get a date out of it, but to my knowledge the resulting article was the only one I ever wrote to be picked up on UWIRE, which is the college equivalent of the Associated Press.]

Why am I sharing all these stories? To make sure it’s clear that when it comes to dating, I really have no clue what I’m doing. I don’t know any more about dating and relationships than the next guy or girl; chances are I know much less.

So if I’m fortunate enough to get my own column here at MormonTimes, rest assured I won’t make huge generalities, I won’t try to dispense advice, and I won’t get preachy or super-serious. Instead, I’ll just share my experiences as a guy involved in the dating process (while regularly mixing in pop culture references, of course).

I think a lot of people will find what I have to say relatable. I hope some people will find it funny. I know I’ll have a great time doing it. Thanks again for reading and voting.

Blogger Brawl: The Lost Entries

If you didn't already know it by now, you probably guessed it: I lost in the quarterfinals of the MormonTimes Blogger Brawl. Thank you to everyone who voted for me. It was a pretty fun experience.

Due to the deadlines set by the contest's editor, I had already submitted my semifinal entry and nearly completed my final blog before I was eliminated. They won't go to waste, though. Here's the marvelous piece of prose you would've had the chance to vote for if I had reached the semis.

I am a long-time student of television—literally while in high school and college, but unofficially since I was very young. I watch a lot of TV, and appreciate it for its entertainment value. But I’m also fascinated by the industry itself, and pay close attention to all the little things that go into getting a show on the air.

For example: my mom likes to tell a story that happened when I was five years old. I was in the hospital, and had patiently endured days of tests, needles, and the like, without crying or complaining. But one day I just started bawling uncontrollably.

The event that sent me over the edge? Someone had misplaced the remote, and by the time we found it and turned the hospital TV on, He-Man had already started. It was only a minute or two into the show, but that was late enough to miss the title of the episode, and what’s the point of watching if you don’t know the title? I was inconsolable.

I don't actually recall this event, but I don't doubt its veracity, because my mother is an honest person, and because He-Man was a really great show.

I often think about He-Man when I'm trying to get a date, mainly because I retire to my bedroom so I can have some privacy to call the girl, and once there I see my He-Man pillowcase. I missed the show opening that one time, but I've seen it enough to know that “fabulous secret powers were revealed” to cowardly Prince Adam, transforming him into the fearless hero.

Oh, how I wish I could channel some of those powers when I'm asking someone out (I also wish I had his smile; with just one long tooth in each part of my jaw, I'd never need to floss again). I'm rarely nervous while on a date, but the process of calling a girl to invite her on one terrifies me. When you're on a date, it’s easy to relax because she's set aside that time to spend with you; when you're talking to someone on the phone, there's no way of knowing if you're bothering them—unless they tell you that, which is even more awkward and unpleasant.

You can't see her, so there's no body language cues to pick up on. Plus, I never know how to end the conversation (or begin it, for that matter). Do I get right to the point and ask her out? Do I make small talk first? For how long? After asking, do I make more small talk, or if she said yes do I make my escape as quickly as possible before she can change her mind? I long for the days of high school dances, where the norm was incredibly elaborate methods of asking that allowed me to show off my creativity and avoid any awkward conversations or immediate rejection.

Another of my TV heroes, Batman (the Adam West version), once told Catwoman that "a wife, no matter how beauteous or affectionate, would severely impair my crime fighting." I don't have that excuse. Plus, I know that I need a wife if I ever want to become a "master of the universe." So I'll continue stretching my comfort zone and keep calling girls for dates, using my childhood idols to psych myself up if necessary. And if my dates are ever a little late, I'll do my best not to cry.