Saturday, May 3, 2008

Running to nowhere


For those of you who truly know me, or even for those who only know me superficially, you may be well aware that I absolutely love cardio. Yes. Running is soooo fun. I love it. And, for those of you who actually nodded your heads in agreement, Thou knowest me not. Running for the sake of running has never really inspired me to do it consistently or in any real way. However, if I were to find an attractive running partner I might be obliged to take up the practice. But, bear in mind that whoever asks me to run with them is basically saying: "Let's date. I am into you."


Not all cardio however, is pointless. One example is ultimate frisbee. It is a game that you can win. You can interact with friends. You can jump, run routes, high five, give 'good games' to people. Ah yes. Ultimate. But, following the same logic, soccer, baseball (to an extent), basketball, surfing, football and other games are meaningful and get that heart going in a good way. All of them involve running (yes even surfing-you can run to the edge of the water). So why then just run? Well some of you might say that you can 'just run' by yourself and it's harder to organize a game of anything. Excuses, excuses. Running sucks by itself. If someone wants to run with me, that's one thing, but by myself I'd rather eat sand or shuck corn. Part of it could be because I have a bum knee that aches for days after any sort of substantial long distance running. Nah.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Australia the Beautiful

While I was visiting the San Diego Zoo, I came upon a shocking sight. I'm sure you've all seen pigeons. They all live in big cities of America, are relatives of doves, but are about as dirty as rats (if not more so). In fact, they are called rats of the sky. Now, it caught me by surprise when I saw what pigeons look like in Australia:



All I could do was be envious. Man, why don't we get cool pigeons that don't smell like trash and look like something found between the cheeks of an elephant?



But, if that were all, I think I could cope. But they've got Koalas down there. They spend 20 hours of their day sleeping and the other 4 eating or cohabiting with other Koalas. Oh to be a Koala! We could keep them as pets. All we'd have to do is give them eucalyptus and they could babysit the kids while we go out for the day, or the weekend.



Oh, and then there are the Australian beaches and women. And the surfing....just let me go there. I'll renounce my citizenship (not really). But live wouldn't be half bad if I were Crocodile Dundee.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Rock my Twittering socks sicko

Two phrases that I see on facebook statuses that are stupid and make no sense: 'Twittering' and 'Rock my socks'.

Let's start with twittering. Twittering is something I am pretty sure only birds or fairies do. So if you're not a bird or a fairy, you probably shouldn't be twittering. Maybe you haven't seen this status on facebook, but I have a few podcaster friends who put it up all the time. But, it's not as if twittering serves any purpose. This is how it's generally written: "Ho Chi Min is twittering: I left my iron on my shirt and now it's burnt." That's stupid. I really do not know what else to say about it.


Now for 'Rock my socks.' First off, I don't want to send the wrong message. I like rocks, and I do like a nice new pair of socks. However, there has yet to be any event in my life that has 'rocked my socks.' It sounds like it would have to be some erotic foot fantasy involving high voltage AC/DC and cotton tube sock love. And, unfortunately I have not yet had the pleasure. There are so many other phrases that make sense and are better. Let's use them like: Blow my mind (among other things), or, instead of twittering, Joe is deliberating, or is not a bird and therefore cannot twitter, but if he were it would sound quite mannish and funny. Food for thought.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Natural Man


You would think that giving in to the 'Natural Man' would be allowing oneself to be beholden by some sort of absolutely repulsive animalistic carnality. And, perhaps, to a point, you are right. However, the natural man has his moments. When the natural man for example, is confronted by a horrible injustice or belligerent person they lash out with wrath, ferocity and powerful vengeance.

This is the most rudimentary form of justice: Revenge. However, it is not a methodical, deliberate, evil act, but an eye for an eye, damages for damages approach. And, despite what some may think, it is deliciously satisfying in the immediate, and perhaps long-term (it obviously depends on the case and the approach).

Another thing the natural man is good at is eating. However, the more appropriate word might be devouring. A natural man has an unquenchable appetite for flesh. He is a voracious, carnivorous fiend. There is no satiating his quest to gorge all in his path, be it cow, truck, dog, raw steel, boulders or reams and reams of carpet. However, he generally tends to eat the more edible things.

The natural man also is amazingly good at athletics. He can beat cheetahs, superman, smurfs and gummi bears at their best events. He can swim for days, fight for hours, and do bicycle kicks consecutively for weeks on end. He is a beast. Similar to the Brazilian soccer star Ronaldinho Gaucho or the French climber: Spiderman (who free hands the world's tallest buildings).

Let's give the natural man some credit, and maybe, from time to time, let him come out to play.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

The Taco Temple


The Taco Temple: California Fusion. For a moment I want you to imagine a taco. Now I want you to imagine the best Mexican food possible. Now, if that weren't enough, imagine ingenious chefs and fabulous decor. Then you would have an indescribably holy experience with large quantities of Mexican ambrosia. I had the honey Chipotle tacos with mango cheesecake to top off the meal. It was fabulous.

Towards the end of our meal a server came out to pick up our plates. He was wearing a loose-fitting button-up shirt and khaki shorts and boats shoes. I doubted he was a regular waiter and figured he was the owner of the temple, or perhaps...the Temple President. Unfortunately Gary the man (a friend of mine) ruined the facade when he asked him if he was the owner and he said he wasn't, and that it was actually his first day there. I was befuddled at first, but then he said he was friends with the owner and that he came over from time to time to help out; he had his own restaurant nearby. But in my mind, I met the Taco Temple President.

It was not the first time I had been to this great restaurant in Morro Bay, and it certainly won't be the last.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

The Blue Planet: California Gateway



I know you have all felt it at some moment in your life. It is the call to explore. The call to be something greater than yourself. The call of the wild. The call of the ocean. And, for some their is a divine call. But, for the purpose of this post I would like to talk about the call of the deep blue life source. The ocean. The blue planet.

Several months ago I was milling around in land-locked Utah caged by mountains and desert. But my mind was on the coast. The rolling hills. The cheap, yet authentic Mexican food. The boardshops with real surfers and people who actually know what they are talking about and aren't just wearing Rusty and Billabong to look cool. The sand beneath my toes. The palm trees swaying in the light afternoon breeze. Flipper's brethren beckoning me with weird chirps and clicks. It was all there. That's when I decided once again, for the second time this year, to go on a surf trip. And, after some good collaboration and planning, I'm once again back in the fatherland: California.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Don't make my face bald

Jesus wore a beard.



















Abraham Lincoln wore a beard.

Brigham Young wore a beard. God wore a beard. And using the word 'wore' just seems weird, because let's be honest, it's not an article of clothing that you can just choose to take off and put in the spin cycle with your socks. To get it off you have to apply razor blades. So, although we've developed varying strategies to make razor blades feel good against your skin, they are still razor blades, (unless some of you are forgetting this). Now shaving is not just dangerous, but annoying. Now let me tell you the situation at BYU.


To take a test, you must be clean shaven. To eat at certain cafeterias, you must be clean shaven. To go to some classes, you must be clean shaven. To go to the gym, you must be clean shaven. Let's be honest, it's written into the BYU by-laws. You must always be clean shaven. And, I don't have a particularly bothersome beard, but I know there are those out there that shave in the morning and have a Rip Van Winkle by sundown. It is kind of ludicrous. In my mind it is possible to look professional or even attractive with facial hair. I can understand the school saying, "Let's make sure we don't have any ridiculously bad-looking beards or haircuts," but outlawing them altogether is a bit much. If they want to make it fair, ladies should have to shave their legs before they take a test or go to class. Furthermore, there are some people who can't grow hair on top of their heads, and for them, a beard is all they've got. Let's not take that from them too.



BYU is run in part by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. All throughout its history, its most famous prophets had beards. From Moses to Christ, from Brigham Young and Sidney Rigdon to Heber J. Grant. The Almighty himself has a beard. Famous people throughout history have had them (And, believe it or not but some have even been successful in life). But, then why is it a crime? You know those t-shirts that say 'Skateboarding is not a crime?' I'm going to make shirts that say 'Beards are not a crime' or 'I'm trying to be like Jesus, beard and all' or 'Honest Abe had it going on; it's beard time.' Let me know what kind of slogans might be good.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

We just met; now let's get married.

Ok I really need to share something that troubles me (and that is putting it lightly). The reason mind you, is because I am concerned for others' well-being (I know that might be hard to believe).

Let me explain what I find ridiculous in the past couple of weeks. For those of you who don't know, I am a Mormon and I attend church in a BYU 'singles ward' out here in Utah. A ward is comparable to a parish in the Catholic church, like a local group. Now in the Mormon, or, LDS church we have a lay clergy, meaning everyone has a calling and no one gets paid. One calling in our ward is one that entails creating a weekly newsletter called 'The BYU 57th Ward Weekly.' In the past it has had little interviews with people in the ward in the 'Getting to Know You' section as well as articles about new events and even dating advice columns and cartoons. However, for the past couple of weeks the only stories being printed have been engagements. Not that engagements aren't newsworthy, but the sheer volume is incredible. There have been over the past two weeks 5 announcements. Now I think that is great. For some. But some of the stories frighten me. One such story is as follows:



"Conveniently, Bo Curly's* car broke down. It was convenient because then Barbara Ann* gave him a ride home. He asked for her number and called her. She didn't call him back that night, but he called her the next morning anyway. They started dating, and although Barbara knew "it would work out" within the first several days of their relationship, the two dated for a month and a half before Bo proposed. Courtney Ann, as Barbara's roommate, sister, and sole local representative of the Ann family, sanctioned the marriage before Bo took definitive action. She even got to see the ring first.

Barbara knew Bo was going to propose. She even "stopped strategically" several times on a walk with him one night to give him the opportunity. Finally, when the two got back into the car, she gave up. It was just going to have to wait another day. As she started to walk away, he called her back and proposed."

What I love most out of the article is "although Barbara knew it would work out within the first several days..." To be honest that frightens me. Not that I don't believe it's possible, but highly improbable and possibly a delusional or delirious reaction. I sincerely hope they both find absolute bliss together, but I worry that they jumped the gun, maybe just a smidge. And the article was not the least bit romantic, but pretty robotic (ooolala robot love)...I just hope that was because of the author and not the actual story. But if that weren't enough here's another one:



"On August 22, Kate Rigadoo* and Frank Bebop* will be married in the Portland temple, the same temple where her family was sealed eight years ago. Kate and Frank both work at BYU Laundry. One day she went to the back looking for window cleaning supplies, and she needed help finding them. Frank came to the rescue with a friend of his; during conversation with Kate he learned that she had served a mission. The two struck up a conversation about their missions. Kate was sick for the next week, however, and was unable to attend work; Frank thought she had quit. When she returned to work, he came to find her. They went out that Friday and were exclusive by Sunday. Six weeks later, Kate and Frank were sitting in her apartment, talking and laughing after a long day. He paused in the conversation and asked, "Will you marry me?" "Yes," she replied. He double checked: "Really, you'll marry me?" They kissed, and then he got down on one knee and proposed again in Chinese. The next day, after they had picked a date, he proposed yet again - commitment style this time. "Will you marry me on August 22 at 3:00 p.m. in the Portland temple?" She has said yes every time."

The part I love about this one is "they went out that Friday and were exclusive by Sunday." That is awesome. I mean wow, they were so in sync. There's no way that any other time was needed. It was fate.

If these stories trouble you, then thank you for being reasonable. If you think they are cute and special, I kind of question your sanity and sense of normalcy. At any rate, I wish them all the best, and am sure as hell not going to follow their lead. I know God made the world in 6 days, so marriage in 6 weeks is not a biggie. Not at all. It's not like that decision is going to affect the rest of your life, or as Mormons believe, the rest of eternity. It could be a starter marriage...to get more experience maybe. Yeah, that's it.

*Names have been changed

Friday, April 18, 2008

The 'Ubersexual' in all of us

Can a man truly consider himself manly if he engages in certain activities? Are there certain things that are just taboo? Where does one draw the line? Let me give an example.

Let's say I know a guy named Fred. He had a floral design class this semester at college. Not only this, but he enjoyed it, and likes arranging flowers. Now, if that were all I'm sure we could easily look over his flower arranging fetish, but he also writes poetry, and even has a poetry blog. And, he likes to cook. Hmmm.....is he borderline metro? Let's look at the wikipedia definition:

"The typical metrosexual is a young man with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis – because that's where all the best shops, clubs, gyms and hairdressers are. He might be officially gay, straight or bisexual, but this is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference. Particular professions, such as modeling, waiting tables, media, pop music and, nowadays, sport, seem to attract them but, truth be told, like male vanity products and herpes, they're pretty much everywhere.

For some time now, old-fashioned (re)productive, repressed, unmoisturized heterosexuality has been given the pink slip by consumer capitalism. The stoic, self-denying, modest straight male didn't shop enough (his role was to earn money for his wife to spend), and so he had to be replaced by a new kind of man, one less certain of his identity and much more interested in his image – that's to say, one who was much more interested in being looked at (because that's the only way you can be certain you actually exist). A man, in other words, who is an advertiser's walking wet dream."

Well I'm pretty sure Fred goes to the gym and uses moisturizer creams, but does this make us question his sexuality? Perhaps not. Perhaps he took the floral design class because he knew the ratio of girls to guys would be 20:1 and he wanted to look more caring, affectionate and get a few more dates. Perhaps he writes poetry to emulate one of the most notorious lady's men of all time, Lord Byron, and perhaps he cooks because he enjoys a good meal every now and then. Hmmm. Even if these justifications were true, it leads one to wonder. Maybe he's just ubersexual. Never heard of it before? Here's the definition:

The word "'übersexual" (from German über = above, superior and Latin sexus = gender) was claimed to be coined by the authors of the book Future of Men (O'Reilly, Matathia, Salzman, 2005). It is a variant of metrosexual. The word seems to have been inspired by the phrase "uber-metrosexual", used by the creator of the metrosexual Mark Simpson to describe David Beckham. Salzman appropriated Simpson's work on the metrosexual in 2002 to sell another book.

Simpson has pointed out that the book contains several deliberate misrepresentations of him, his work, and the history of the metrosexual.

Many of the "top ubersexuals" named by Salzman, such as Bono, Bill Clinton and George Clooney were on her list of "top metrosexuals" in 2003.

The authors of Future of Men argue that the übersexual is not derivative of the metrosexual man.

The future of men, proclaim the authors, is "not to be found in the primped and waxed boy who wowed the world with his nuanced knowledge of tweezers and exfoliating creams. Men, at the end of the day, will have to rely on their intellect and their passion, their erudition and professional success, to be acknowledged and idealised in contemporary society. Called the 'übersexual'—-a degree of greatness and perfection, an acknowledgment that this is an evolved species of man—he is so perfect as to leave little margin for error and fallacy."

Some, including Simpson and Armistead Maupin, have suggested that behind this confused/confusing marketing-speak there was something rather simpler going on: a homophobic attempt to stop the metrosexual being so "gay". Or, as Salzman herself put it proudly, the ubersexual (unlike the metrosexual) "doesn't invite questions about his sexuality".

Simpson has argued that from the beginning the appropriation of the metrosexual concept by American marketers such as Salzman in 2003 was always about trying to straighten him out. His original definition of the metrosexual was sexually ambiguous, or at least went beyond the straight/gay binary; marketers, in contrast, insisted that the metrosexual was always "straight" – they even tried to pretend that he wasn't vain.

However, they failed to convince the public - hence the uber-straight ubersexual.

Despite a large global PR push for their 'new', completely 'non-gay' metrosexual, and a slavishly uncritical press which failed to notice that the list of top ten ubersexuals was largely the same as the one's they'd been printed two years previously for top ten metrosexuals, the 'ubersexual' failed to catch on with the public and was stillborn, as Salzman has admitted herself.

That's it, he's ubersexual. Let's cut to the chase. The author of this blog post is Fred. And on a the occasion of a friend's graduation party from college he dressed up in a very well tailored pin stripe suit, hand-woven silk tie and polished black shoes with Armani cologne. This is when his friend's mother declared him an ubersexual along with her son who had just graduated. Intrigued I of course had to do some research before accepting the title. Then along came wikipedia. I suppose now I must agree.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Potato Fun


As many of you may be aware, I have as of late been on a strict potato diet. And, by strict I don't mean just potatoes although that is generally what 'strict' implies. I have been eating them just about everyday with ranch and BBQ sauce or butter and salt and pepper and it's been a welcome food for many reasons, most of all taste. Potatoes contain iron, vitamin A, C and some Bs as well as protein. They say eating a lot of them will make you fat, but I tend to think the contrary is true. In fact, I think I have lost fat since I went on my potato diet. However, there always is a but. As cheap, delicious and even healthful as potatoes are, they have their drawbacks. And some might know the biggest one. Flatulence. Now I'm sure there are those of you who love flatulence and having the ability to make your own body tuba music, but for those of us who every now and then like to sit down with friends and maybe even go on the occasional date, it's not quite so appealing. I honestly don't know what it is that make potatoes so gas prone, but I know that they are and if you're going to eat them, you must live with the consequences. While of course a gaseous exclamation every now and then certainly can ease your troubles, I prefer to quell the beast whenever possible. But, at least for now, at the current rate of my potato consumption my room mates and friends are probably just going to have to buy more scented candles and incense.