The Five Worst Places to Meet Guys (weekly blog # 7)

Last week I wrote about the 5 worst places to meet girls. It received a good response. However, girls were asking me about the 5 worst places to meet guys. So I did some quick research and here is what I came up with.

The 5 Worst Places to Meet Guys (no particular order)

1.) At the movie, "Notebook"
At first glance this sounds like a great idea; this guy must be sensitive. However, you must remember this is a guy we are talking about. If he is going to this movie to meet girls, it is because he is out of options. This is the last attempt for this guy. He has failed everywhere else, and now has to play the sensitive emotional guy, to get a girl to talk to him.

2.) Visiting a friend in jail.
If you are talking to a friend in jail, and the guy next to him starts making eyes at you, don't batter those lashes! I know, I know, his tattoos and dangerous 'bad guy' vibe is alluring. But set the standard bar up a few notches...or in this case get a standard bar.

3.) At the drive-through window at the bank.
This sounds like a good spot. The guy works at the bank, hes got money, he's cute...but remember flirting takes time, and there is a line behind you. Don't be that annoying car that takes 20 minutes to cash a check. HONK! Hurry up! Instead go inside everyday all stalker like, until he is working at the desk. Then you can get your flirt' on.

4.) At the Hair salon, under a big dryer.
Little hint...if he is sitting under one of those big hair dryers...He's gay, keep looking.

5.) At the Santa display in the mall.
You have two options. First, you end up talking to a handsome guy waiting with his child to sit on Santa's lap. Surprised to see he is married? Really? Secondly, you happen to think that maybe Santa or one of his elves are single. Bad decision. They are elves...small elves...wearing tights. As for Santa, here is a 50-year-old, overweight man dressed up in a red suit. Not the the prime of the pickings. If you think to yourself, "Maybe I will be like one of those girls that dates the much older guy." They do that for money. This guy is not going to be rollin' the cash in. He works as a Santa in the mall. Keep looking.

As mentioned before, I am not saying it is impossible to meet Mr. Right at one of these places...it just isn't the best place to start looking for him.

American Scream

Before you start reading this do the following:

1.) Turn off the lights
2.) Turn up the sound on your speakers
3.) Right click on the youtube video link below and open it in a new tab. Then press play (or just open it in a new tab, because it will play automatically) and come back to reading this.(it is just a song, so you don't need to watch it before reading it, rather listen to it while reading)

Right click on this, and open in new tab

Ok, now you are ready to read this week's blog.

It's back. The feeling has returned, this time it's overwhelming. Like needles poking every inch of my skin, the feeling awakened me from sleep. I want to open my eyes, but that feeling chokes off my courage, and common sense. "Something is out there, you're being watched," it screams into my mind.
Aftermath of a bad dream, I tell myself. Yet, the feeling remains. What time is it? Is it morning? If I open my eyes, I will see my digital clock and it's illuminated red numbers will answer these questions. All I need to do is turn my head and look. "Don't open your eyes, it's still out there, still watching you," the feeling presses.
Don't be silly, I tell myself. Nothing is out there, nothing is "watching" you. I open my eyes. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the dark. My head is facing the wall next to my bed, with the light from my basement window shining onto it. The strange feeling that woke me up remains. Blankly staring at the wall, I try to remember when I have felt this not-so foreign feeling before. The sound of a footstep jerks my attention. Another footstep. The source of the sound blocks the light from the window. A image of a shadow begins to form, growing as it moves closer to my window, to me. Someone is watching me. The feeling was right.
My mind races. Where is the nearest weapon? Will I have time to get to it? Is it just a trick of the mind? If only I could turn my head and look around my room. Then I could see who or what it is.
An idea enters my head, the thing doesn't know I am awake. Is it worth the risk?
I slowly turn my head around, until my left ear and eye press against the pillow. Slowly, I open my left eye, my eyelid grazes the pillow case. Though my vision is blocked, I begin to make out details in my room; my dresser, my desk and chair come begin to take shape.
The quickening breath is the only sound I hear. It can hear me, it knows I am scared. It's coming for me.
"Focus," I tell myself. Don't panic. The only way I can know what's there, is by turning my head towards my window. It could be nothing...but then again what if it's not?

The song has probably stopped, so here is a link to another song. Do as you did before by right clicking on the link, and opening it in a new tab. Then press play and read on. (if the song is still going, switch songs anyways...)

Right click on this and open in new window

The feeling became stronger. Don't turn your head. But I needed to see who or what it is. A sound of movement comes from the window. I begin turning my head. I see the corner of the window. I stop. I close my left eye all to but a small slit, barely enough to see. I keep turning my head until the back rests against my pillow. I see the figure, next to my window. Who is it I ask as I squint to focus. The rough details of his face, his scruffy beard, his dark eyes begin to clear in my vision. He turns his head side to side, searching my room. A dog barks. He turns to the sound as my eyes are forced upon. Before I have time to think, he turns back, looking straight at me. "Close your eyes!" my mind shouts, but fear overcomes reason. We stare at each other. Then he slowly gets ups, his eyes still locked on mine. He straightens up, looks to both sides, and starts walking away....

This is a true story. I ended up running to my parent's room, recounting everything to my dad. We turned on all the lights, and then with makeshift weapons checked the back and front yard, but he was nowhere to be found. I learned a lesson; never ignore that feeling again.

The Five Worst Places to Meet Girls (weekly blog # 6)

It can happen anywhere. It might happen at the library while studying. Or, it could happen at church. Depending on your confidence and luck, You could get a cutie's number and a date wherever you go. However, just because it can happen anywhere, doesn't mean that every place is ideal. In fact, there are a number of places that I can think of, that would be better not to try; for time's convenience, I will name five in no particular order.
1. On the internet...while playing World of Warcraft
Hands down this is not a good place to try to put on the moves for several reasons. Not only do you have no idea what she looks like (she is not an elf), but you also know what she does at 1:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. While this is every nerd's dream...it has only happened once in documented history. Save the pick up lines for the next star wars convention.
2. At the store...in the wart medicine isle.
Guys (or girls)don't try this one. Even if a hottie comes up next to you and starts browsing. Let's just pretend that you do happen to start up a conversation; you exchange a few jokes, she smiles. Chances are she won't fall for the "I'm buying it for my roommate" line. Yet, if she does, the question should by now pop in your mind...why is she in this isle? She must have warts too. It is scientific fact that if she has warts she is a witch. You don't want to date a witch.
3. At a family reunion
Enough said...unless you are from Alabama.
4. At the Laundry Mat
Everybody has a favorite shirt, or outfit. Yet on the other hand, everybody has that one shirt or outfit that they don't want to wear...until there are no clean clothes; the laundry day outfit. When it comes done to it, you want to be on your game, playing your strengths to get that number. Sweat pants and that "Idaho is the bomb" shirt don't help your chances.
5. At Lamaze class
Here at BYU some guys take marriage and family, or elementary education classes because of the positive girl-to-guy ratio. On that same thought, I signed up for a Lamaze class. Bad decision. all the girls were either married or dating some French guy named Fiance. Needless to say I did not get any date out of that class. But I did learn to breath properly.
I want to clarify myself, It is possible to meet the girl of your dreams at any of these places. But when trying to up your odds of Friday night adventure, it is best not to start at one of these five places.

All the small things

I reached into my pocket and found 20 dollars. Wow, it was like finding money, literately. It was the highlight of my week. Certain people would say that is sad, but I believe that the small things make a day (or a week). Who can argue against that when a small plate of cookies is left on your table?
When one thinks about it, Christmas is based on that principle (that and the whole tradition/religion thing...). Children wake up and find presents under a tree upon a cold Christmas tree. It doesn't matter what present you get, some random person (Santa Clause) left a wrapped gift for you.
So based on that principle, I decided to make someone's day. I started thinking where can I make a difference. Then I noticed, anything related to hunger and food, is a good choice. The next question was where would I find hungry people on a college campus...it would be near impossible. Then while walking in a hall, I noticed a line to a vending machine. That's it, the gold mine; the last resort to quiet a loud obnoxious stomach. So, later that day when there was no one around, I bought three items (a candy bar, some chips, and a cookie) and never reached in to get them. I left with the knowledge that some lucky hungry person would walk sullenly up to the vending machine, counting the change in their hands, contemplating what item would best stop the hunger. I don't know who was the eventual person to get the gift, but I hope it made their day.

MTV, How the world changes...(weekly blog #4)

I was a deprived child growing up. Unlike the majority of kids my age, I did not have cable television. I was too young to pose the great question, "why me", yet I still felt its affects. In many conversations, I sat alienated amongst a crowd of teenagers; I was the silent participant nodding along, trying to pretend I knew what was being said.
College opens many doors; one door it opened was the door to cable. Finally in my twenties was I able to regularly view, if I so wished, the programs and channels that so commonly filled mindless night conversations. The big TV options were now in my living room; MTV, VH1, Disney, Travel, Discovery, History and many more. However time has changed, and TV along with it.
When I was young MTV was the music television channel. It showed music videos all day long, while featuring interviews with many popular bands. It became big enough that MTV bought a second channel, MTV2. Music was available to the young public. Then reality TV was invented. Suddenly, the mixture of emotions so often put into song were not enough for the young teenage generation, they needed additionally to see the emotion. MTV began filling its hours with fictitious, monotonous reality shows; Big Brother, The Real World (an ironic name to the fact that it was in now way what it implied), Road Rules and so much more. It wasn't long until MTV and MTV2 were no longer music television...but rather reality television.
Yesterday while browsing the channels, I came to realize that MTV and MTV2 have made yet another shift. Now they aren't filled with reality TV shows featuring the regular Jane and Joes', but instead the used-to-be celebrities. They shifted from MTV, music television; to MTV, reality television; to MTV, celebrities last chance to stay in the spotlight.
Why am I ranting on about some needless subject like this? The answer is simple; MTV should change its name. It shouldn't be called the music TV channel if it has nothing to do with music! That is like calling the food network channel the cartoon network. The name is confusing, misleading, and worse of all, distracting to thousands of regular people. The name is forcing people like you and I to think on this stupid matter instead of worth-while productive things like work, or snowboarding.
In conclusion, I quote the song "Title and Registration" written by the famous band Death Cab for Cutie, while taking the liberty to switch a word of two. I think they would agree with my switch, if not have meant it in the first place. "The channel MTV, is inaccurately named and everybody knows it. So I'm proposing a swift orderly change, because on the screen there is no music to be seen. All that's left are memories of better times."
I am not out to change, just the name of a TV channel.

Math Can Get Worse? (Weekly Blog 3)

Mrs. Jergenson had the power to tear a yellow pages phone book in half! If that didn't scare the wits out of young junior-high teenagers, the fact that she taught pre-algebra did. She was no taller than 5'6", weighing in a rough estimate of 250 lbs (give or take 100 lbs). Her short quaggy arms capable of phone-book-tearing power were of no match to her scowl. One sarcastic or ill timed comment during class was all it took before the wrath was unleashed upon the entire group. Needless to say, it was an often quiet and anxiety filled 50 minute period. However, that is not why I don't like math.
Truth be told, I have never enjoyed math. I understand it. I can do it. I usually don't have a problem finding the logical solutions to those quirky worded conundrums. Yet, I have never had the satisfaction that some attain from its ordered structure. A friend of mine often said, "Working on a math problem is like sculpting a sculpture, you become more intrigued and passionate the farther along you get until you finally finish. Then you can sit back and admire the beauty of what you have done." Hmmm. I would say sculpting is more like sculpting. Math is more like busy number work. Yet despite all my disinterest with math, we have always had a professional relationship. That is until math met Facebook.
Before math became involved with Facebook, she was very predictable. 1 + 1 = 2, 2 + 2 = 4 ETC. However, after their short courtship math began to become quite unpredictable, illogical, and concerned with non-important details and problems. Anyone that has used Facebook knows of what I speak. Here are a couple examples of common math "problems and solutions" as seen when the two are together;

(a) 1 gallon of ice cream + 1 bottle of chocolate sauce + A romantic comedy = The best pity party ever!
(b) The Alpha-Beta girls + Hot basketball team - homework = A Saturday night to remember!

As you can see this makes no logical sense. Ever since meeting Facebook, math has been caught up in the need to feel accepted by pop culture and has tried hard to appeal to its superficial needs. I fear that this relationship is destructive to Math's self esteem. Soon she is going to be so confused with who she is. It won't be long until these simple (yet very stupid) expressions of pop culture math are going to become worse like;

1 Pair of high heels + short shorts/ A lady Gaga CD + f (the derivative) of my favorite lip gloss - cutesy socks^ (to the power of)fuzzy pink = Girls night out!

People, we can't let this happen. We can't sit back and let this destructive relationship tear away at Math. We must get Math back to where she was before that fateful meeting of Facebook. We need to separate them in the most awkward way possible so that they won't be able to stand being in the same room together. We need to do what's best for them both! Who's with me? (This is the part where you enthusiastically raise your fist in the air and give your most Brave-heart-like 'Yeah').

Extended Refrigerator syndrome (weekly Blog 2)

Last week I wrote on the amazing and natural phenomenon I refer to as the Refrigerator syndrome. It states simply that, any person within the means of ones' own kitchen, without the preoccupation of an imperative or dominating task, will open the refrigerator upon the path of passing it. After discovering and proving this a true theory, I began seeing other likewise patterns of the refrigerator syndrome in other aspects of life. One could argue that they are in need of separate theories, but the connection and similarities these instances have with the refrigerator syndrome indicate that they may just be branches to this idea.
One such branch I discovered on a quiet Wednesday afternoon. While in the process of researching world renowned animal-based holidays on the internet, I found that I was frequently checking my Gmail account. I took a short break from my research. Upon my return, the first thing I did was check my email. Within 20 minutes of being on the internet, I checked it another 5 times. It struck me. Can this have any correlation with my famous refrigerator syndrome? There were definite similarities....every time I pass the fridge I open it, every time I open a new internet browser I check my email. Like the fridge, If I pass by it (the gmail tab) and I am not doing anything constructive, I open it up. There usually isn't anything interesting in either, except junk food and junk mail, and many such similarities.
The logic is so conclusive that I have adapted the refrigerator theory to email; any person within the means of ones' own internet browser, without the preoccupation of an imperative or dominating task, will check their email.
Though this extended theory has not been tested on a wide range, ask yourselves as readers if you are a contradiction to this natural human behavior. Open the internet and after a time close it. If you have checked your email within that range of time, then you are another testament to this idea. If you successfully open and close the internet several times without checking your email (note all this must be done without the conscious effort to avoid doing it) then you may have just ruined my life's work. Then you can feel really good that you have crushed my dream.