Just so you know, Avril, your record wasn't even that good

It's those little things that you try to hide that always bite you in the butt. The Salt Lake County library system has a huge catalog of music CDs that you can check out. It's a great way to hear a bunch of stuff that you wouldn't ever really buy. Since we don't live close to any county libraries, it's always an ordeal trying to get the stuff back in on time. I try to be very diligent because I think it is dumb to have to pay a late charge on something that was free in the first place.

I secretly can't get enough of the teen pop divas. I bop my head along to Avril Lavigne, Britney Spears, and even that dang Hilary Duff, but it can be very embarassing. Like when I went to pick up the Shania Twain CD that was on hold for me at the library and it wasn't there. I had to go to reference desk and say, "Is there a CD here for me?" I thought they would ask my name, but instead they said, "What's the name of the CD?"

"Uh, shniatwn."
"What?"
"shniatwn."
"You'll have to speak a bit louder."
"SHANIA TWAIN! OKAY?!"

So embarrasing. Anyway, yesterday I had to pay a fine because I returned a Avril Lavigne CD late. I guess it's a sign that I need to stop listening to that crap.

"Scorched" and an Evening at the Bawden's: A Review

Traci and I hung out with our buddies, Brett and Janeen Bawden last weekend. I gave Janeen the crappy job of choosing a rental movie for the four of us. It’s always hard to find something that everyone will like, but she really came through.

She immediately earned points for taking a risk. She chose the unknown "Scorched," a movie that went straight to DVD. It stars Alicia Silverstone, Woody Harrelson, and that hot chick (Rachael Leigh Cook) that plays Josie in “Josie and the Pussycats.”

There’s a reason why this thing didn’t make it to the big screen. Neither the acting nor the plot are too stunning—three bank tellers who each have independent plans to rob the bank where they work—but since Janeen and I work at a bank (and all four of us have worked as a teller at one time or another) it was an appropriate selection.

It was moderately funny. The thievery plots were all a bit far-fetched, but that wasn’t a real problem. The movie was watchable because every real-life teller dreams of robbing the bank. This wasn’t an “Ocean’s Eleven”-style scheme, it was kids stickin’ it to the man by stealing a bunch of money.

The Bawdens’ home-made salsa gets the best review of the night, though. Brett and Janeen made salsa from ingredients they had grown in their backyard. Nice and hot. Very impressive.

The Owen Money 5

I went to lunch on Saturday with a couple of my high school friends. It proved that six years after high school life is pretty much the same.

*Owen*

I met Owen when I was a junior in high school. I was trying to scrounge up a quarter so I could get a drink out of the pop machine. He gave me the quarter and I found out that had just moved from Maryland. He told me the following really bad joke:

"There were two ducks in a shower and one said to the other, 'Hey, could you hand me the soap?' The other duck replied, 'What do you think I am--a radio?"

It was a brave move to introduce yourself with such a horrible, nonsensical joke. In my mind it was also the perfect move. I decided to take Owen under my wing and help him to get accustomed to the very unique quirks of going to high school in Utah.

On several occasions, my friend Ty and I were successful in getting Owen out of his hermit-like basement existence in order to have interesting misadventures including (but not limited to): losing him downtown on New Year's Eve, having him nearly kill us in his the Wagoneer, "The White Tiger," on our way to the Hogle Zoo and watching him timidly jump on a trampoline for the first time.

In the three years since I have been home from Holland I have seen Owen two times, both of which were as unusual as I had expected. The first was a few years ago when Ty and I went over to his house. Despite not having seen either of us for two years, Owen couldn't talk long because he wanted to make sure he could make it to Cafe Rio before they closed at 9 p.m.

*Jamo*

Jamo (Jay-mo) is a computer nerd, but not in the same way I am. He actually knows how to fix computers and make them do cool stuff. I only know how to play on them. He is very intelligent, recently learned to play guitar, and loves the Simpsons. He earned my respect in high school when he volunteered his father's 6-foot-long mounted fish as a prop for us to use for the Christmas dance. We all dressed up in Hawaiian clothes and ran around downtown in the freezing cold carrying this giant fish everywhere we went.

***
Here's the highlights from the lunch:

OWEN (who is as skinny as a stick) to the WAITRESS: Is there anything healthy on this menu? I'm on a diet.

JAMO on dating: I think I have "G.A.D.D."--girl attention deficit disorder. I just get bored so easily with girls.

OWEN: I haven't been on a date in seven months.

OWEN: I had a girlfriend and we were probably going to get married, but then we broke up.

SPENCER: Was she a lesbian?

OWEN: [laughs, but no answer]

OWEN (after eating about 10 percent of his healthy meal) to the WAITRESS: Can I get a salad?

JAMO: I'm going rock climbing on a date tonight.

SPENCER: Do you know how to rock climb? It's really hard.

JAMO: I'll be fine. I've got really strong arms.

SPENCER: I still work at the same job I had in high school.

JAMO: Me, too.

OWEN: I'm single, unemployed and I live at my parents house. My hair was long for a while,
but I cut it a few months back for a job interview. Now I have short hair again so basically nothing is different than when I was in high school.

SPENCER: Well guys, this was fun. We'll do it again in six months. Maybe in three months if anything interesting happens in your lives.

OWEN: [silence]

JAMO: [silence]

It was a good time.

Computer Geek USA

The experience of going from regular dork to cyber-nerd

I know that having a website is pretty nerdy, but things are really getting out of control. My brother-in-law asked me to start working on a website for his small business. While looking for some images to put on it I stumbled across a website called www.mindsay.com. Mindsay is a community that hosts a few thousand "blogs." An internet blog is an online journal. A lot of people write about their lives everyday and post it for the world to read.

Since it was free, I figured "Hey, I'll set one of these things up." It just took me a few minutes to get it up and running. I had barely finished my very first blog when I saw that a few people had already visited my little site. This was a totally new experience for me. With this web site I have to send out emails just so people can find my web address. The blog was a whole new experience. I was suddenly communicating to a completely different demographic-people who are really into computers, who have no shame and love corresponding with strangers.

I was totally excited. I started looking around at a bunch of different sites within the community. I was thoroughly amused by all of the entries about the struggles of starting high school, the drag of going to marching band practice after school and the general disdain for meddling parents. I sat at work, giggling at my computer.

It was funny to be back in high school again. Suddenly I had a whole new group of friends--15-year-olds who know a lot about drama and spend too much time on the computer. I read about breaking up with Vinny, trying to break up Vinny and his new girlfriend and making Vinny jealous. I read lots of angsty poetry and many odes to Good Charlotte and Orlando Bloom. I couldn't get enough of it!

By the next day, my feelings were a bit different. I started looking around the community and I couldn't find anyone older than 19. I started feeling like I was a child predator or something. I didn't want to be the weird 24-year-old who writes messages to 14-year-old girls.

I figured I better head somewhere else to meet my blogging needs, but how? I didn't want to type in a search for "blogs, adult." I could only imagine what that would bring up. Luckily, I came across www.blogger.com, which seems a bit more like my demographic. Instead of angry teens, it's angry adults ranting about George Bush and the demise of America.

I don't know what causes people to think that world wants to read about their life. I can see where the teens are coming from--they need an outlet for their rage--but what about grown-ups? Why do I need a blog? What service do I think I am providing for the world by writing about carrying a bowl around all night for fear I might throw up? I'm not sure. Whatever the reasons, here is the result-http://sutherlandmanifesto.blogspot.com. Brace yourself for the mundane.

Puke Bowl--Because I'm Sure You Care...

Last night was rough. Traci works until 9 p.m on Thursdays so I generally try to get as much rockin' in as possible while she's away. I had big plans for getting some stuff recorded last night. Unfortunately, it was not to be. I got home from work and felt like I was going to throw up at any second. I ate a green popicle, but it was unable to cure me.

Feeling too weak to rock, I sat at the computer with my puke bowl in front of me--just in case the vomit tried to catch me off guard. The vomit never came, so I just sat there feeling like garbage. The Simpsons was particulary funny last night. Each time I laughed I felt like my stomach was going to lose it. I slept on the couch with my little bowl on the floor next to me.

I decided to come to work today. The second that I walked in the door I felt like it was a mistake, but that could just be because my job always makes me feel sick.

 

Traci Almost Gets Stolen

It wasn't my intention to let her get stolen, I just hate going to the stupid mall. It was about 8:15 last Friday night. Traci and I were watching TV when she said "I need to go back to the mall to buy some shoes." She asked me if I wanted to go, which of course, I didn't. Here's where my story and Traci's story start to conflict.

My version: Traci says, "We can go to the mall and then we can go to Albertson's and you can rent a movie." (Like it was my reward for being a good boy and going to the mall.) I said, "How 'bout you go to the mall and I go to Albertson's and rent a movie."

Traci's version: Traci says, "We can go to the mall and then I need to go to Albertson's and buy some stuff for blah, blah, blah. You can rent a movie while we're there."

I refused her offer and she went to the mall by herself. I drove to Albertson's and rented a movie. By about 9:15 I was wondering where Traci was because the mall closes at 9 p.m. That's when the phone rang. "I need you to come pick me up at Albertson's," she said.

"Are you okay?"

"Just come get me."

"What's happening?"

"We'll talk about it when you get here."

Of course I was very worried and confused. What was she doing at the Albertson's? Why does she need a ride? What's happened to the car? I hopped in the car and headed down the street to the grocery store.

When I pulled up at the Albertson's Traci was standing out front with a couple of bags of groceries. Next to her was a man, also holding groceries. He looked to be in his mid-40s. He had the male pattern baldness where you've got hair on the sides but none on the top. I immediately assumed that he was an Albertson's worker because he was wearing tan pants and a tan shirt.

Traci walked over to the car and asked me if we could give him a ride. I gave her a very confused look, but I said yes. I didn't know what the situation was and wasn't really in the position to talk to her about it freely with him standing right there.

He said he needed a ride to the Tesoro gas station about a mile away. I was driving the Focus so Traci climbed in the back seat and this dude sat next to me. I figured if he was next to me I would be able to keep an eye on him a little bit. I don't like the idea of people being able to sneak up on me from behind.  To make a little small talk I said, "So how long have you worked at Albertson's?"

"Oh, I don't work at Albertson's. I was just doing my shopping. I came here on the bus but the busses aren't running now because they stop early on Friday nights. That's why I asked your wife for a ride home." He asked me if it had been raining and then said, "People keep saying that we need the rain and I don't understand why. The Lord told Noah that he would never flood the earth again. The good Lord always gives us enough rain, but the bishop and people in the ward are storing water like we're going to run out. But the Lord always gives us rain.  I don't understand it."

"Well, I think if you have a drought long enough, you do run out of water," I said. "Are you going to catch a bus at the Tesoro?"

"No, I just need some cigarettes, if I don't get some the old lady's gonna be real mad." We pulled into the Tesoro and he thanked us for the ride.

I turned around and asked Traci what the deal was. She had walked out of the door and the guy asked her for a ride and wouldn't leave her alone.  I guess she hesitated and then (very smartly) said that she couldn't because she had walked to the store--which she hadn't.  You would think that would deter someone, but he said it would be no problem for him to just walk home with her and then they could get the car. He said, "I'd even be willing to ride in the trunk."  She said, "I'll call my husband and see if he can give you a ride."

Now I have to feel awful that because I didn't want to go to the mall my wife almost got stolen. With all of the craziness going on lately--the kidnapped joggers and whatnot--simple things like going to the grocery store can turn into a big deal. I am very happy that Traci was smart about the situation, though I wish she would have just gone back in and told the manager. I probably just should have said "sorry, I'm not giving you a ride" to the guy and just taken Traci and left, but I wasn't sure why she had told him we'd give him a ride. The experience gave me a lot to think about.  I'm happy that everything worked out okay and that I've still got Traci. She's a keeper.