To be wise or sweet

Wisdom and sweetness to you probably do not correlate to anyone in the world but me. They are both positive qualities to posses. They can both make you a better person. but for me and my opinion one is a top quality and the other the bottom. Rather than rate every quality I can think of( maybe i will if I run out of ideas for my blog) I will take the first and last. The first is wisdom and the last is of course being sweet. Before you judge to harshly remember this is my opinion and as my friend Jonny would say "Don't take away my opinion" . I don't believe there is anything wrong with sweetness. It's still a great thing to posses and the world could use more sweet people, but that doesn't mean people like to be around you. Pay attention next time when you are about to say something bad about a friend, most times you'll start off with "don't get me wrong he's really sweet,But ..." or "she sure annoys the hell out of me, but hey she is sweet" Show signs of wisdom however, and people still don't care that much. Rare is a time that you'll hear anyone under 60 say "wow, is he wise". This is because we tend to believe we are the smartest people in the room no matter where we are.
Wisdom to me is not just intelligence, it's what we can discern from people. This is why we love those quotes so much like ol Abe Lincoln or Bill Shakespeare. Number one it makes you sound smarter if you can rattle off the Gettysburg address from memory. two, it gives you validation. But when you think about it, who is Pablo Neruda to tell me that laughter is the language of the soul. He actually does have some great poems and went through some real crap, but my point is why can't Mike down the street tell me the same thing and I believe him? Well maybe Mike did and I just wasn't listening because he's Mike, not some eloquent commie or a playwright from a million years ago. The truth is a wise person can gain insight and truth from almost any conversation or experience. A sweet person can be sweet. Both can change the lives of those around them. A sweet person can bring a lot of joy and sweetness. A wise person can help resolve questions in your life, or maybe they understand that advise that goes wrong can make your best of friends worse than your most hated enemies, so they will choose to be sweet and just say "i don't know, but I sure like you"
Both qualities have their fall backs. If you are sweet you can find yourself doing thing you might just hate, but you can't say no because "that would make them feel bad". So before you know it you're sitting at an Uncle Cracker concert, wishing for a natural catastrophe to take the building out and put you all out of your misery. Being wise can seem you don't get to do a damn thing. For instance it never seems wise to go gambling in the middle of the night when you have work in a couple of hours. Or if you ever have used a credit card period. But a wise person knows that not all knowledge comes from books. sometimes you have to experience some life on you're own. Sometimes you need to go with the choice that everyone around you will say "ooh, I don't think that's wise". Was it wise for the founding fathers to attack the strongest army in the world with some toothless General, some bottle rockets, with a touch of angry Frenchmen on the side? Most would say probably not. And that's where the key to wisdom comes in, that is discerning what's crazy and what could work. Often our modern-day crazies are our latter-day geniuses. (now you can quote me) Sometimes they stay mostly, just crazy. A lot of times you luck into to wisdom. however if you're able to luck into it more times than you don't then congratulations, you are considered wise.
If you can find any point to this post(big if) I think it would be to consider everything a learning experience. Even if you are smarter than everyone. Even from that person that "is sweet, but sure isn't a thinker" Well you can learn from them not to be a jerk ass, and in that is wisdom.
Stay sweet

John, A Witch,The good doctor, and I

My friend John Baker is one of a kind. When most people have an idea,they quickly assess the old pros and cons. John, he mostly sees the pros and will worry about the cons maybe never. Because of this John has had many adventures. Like the time he had me drop him off on the side of the freeway in California, so he could hitch hike to Las Vegas to see his girlfriend (now wife) for the weekend. I have had the fortune of playing a role in some of these experiences. One such adventure takes me back a few. It was during the NBA finals when the Utah Jazz were playing the Chicago Bulls. My friend John Baker decided that we should be a part of that history. The only problem we had, except for not having tickets, is that we were 20 miles away from Salt Lake City and we were without a car. Normal people would think maybe we could just watch it on a TV. But John wouldn't be John if he settled that easily. We found some broken down bikes in my back yard and off we took to a game. We had no tickets to the game or any air in our tires. as we rode straight up state street it was very noticeable that everyone in the whole state was watching the game due to the lack of traffic, everyone but us. We arrived at the delta center late in the third quarter. They were broadcasting the game across the street on a giant screen. As we looked for a place to sit we happened into pretty much every person we knew, and of course they all offered a belated ride if they had only known. The game was supposedly one of the finest finals games ever. It was the game that Micheal Jordan had the flu and still beat the Jazz. personally I wouldn't know because for most the game I was biking. The game was the least interesting event of the night anyway.

At the end of the game, while following Johns lead, we entered the Delta Center as everyone else was exiting. We started to make our way down to Bill Walton who was calling the game, when I looked up and saw that Julius Erving aka Dr J. was up at the NBC booth. I happened to be wearing my Dr. J 2000 sneakers at the time and thought of how great it would be for him to sign them. As we made it half way to the Doctor, we saw Brian Williams later to be known as Bison Dele doing an interview. I told Brian that I thought he sucked, and he angrily stared up at us. John took the look as a challenge and picked up a paper sign that said "Brick" on it. He then ripped the bottom of the B off so the sign said "prick" and held it up so if Brian were deaf he'd still know how we felt about him. He got the message because he looked like he was about to charge. We did what all people should do after angering a giant, we ran. When we made it to The NBC booth I did get to talk to Dr J, but he wouldn't sign my shoes because of a contract deal or some crap. I was pretty disappointed but I did get to converse with the doctor of dunk.

Again putting myself on cruise control and just following John, we somehow ended up behind the Delta Center where we met then University of Utah coach Rick Majerus. He signed our prick sign without smiling. and waited with us to see the Jazz players. We got tired of waiting and started to leave when Dr. J. made his second appearance. Now feeling bold I told Dr. J. if "I ever get famous I'll give you my autograph " He told me something I've pondered for years. He said "that's good, put a "w" in it" . I asked John "did he just tell me to put a "w" in it?" All John could say is " I think so". After Dr. J's entourage of finely suited men pulled him away from our chat we figured our night was full and started our long journey home. It was only as we exited that someone asked us for credentials to be in the restricted area.

John and I were about half way home when we decided to stop at Wayne's Corner Market. We left our bikes outside and walked in. The cashier quickly told us we shouldn't leave our bikes alone for even a second. We however weren't worried because our bikes were so crappy we were sure we could catch the thieves on foot. When we left the store I had perhaps the most traumatizing experience of my entire life. There was a woman by our bikes, who looked as if she had been smoking the minute she exited the womb. She also had a very loose fitting shirt on with no bra on underneath. I quickly looked away only to have her bring my attention back with the comment "It's colder then a witches tit, I can't catch a cab, and my tits are going to freeze off." At that moment I kind of wish they had frozen off, because my eyes wanted to be burnt out of my scull. She went on to say the word "tit's" about 10 more times. Since then that has been the dirtiest, most offensive word in any vocabulary for me. We finally reached home around 330 in the morning and as I pondered my journey and realized had I just watched the game in the comfort of my home like I planned instead of following John, I sure would have missed out, and I wouldn't be able to tell you what a witches tit looks like.

The only (kind of serious) blog I'll do

Through out my life I have always had one major goal. That goal was to make people happy. In fact the compliment that i received from my friend Etta Kasalek is still the most cherished of all when she said " I always feel better after I'm around you then i did before".More than often I have tried humor to accomplish the goal because it affords the least amount of real emotion and that way avoid dramatic situations. It all began in the third grade when I was in charge of the telling of "Twas the Night before Christmas" through a small skit. Since I was in third grade and didn't actually learn the lines ( I guess I don't change that much if you were to ask Kristina about the pole dancing video we made ) I simply started into a slapstick set a kin to possibly the three stooges. This went on for a good ten minutes, and the other kids were eating it up even if the teacher wasn't. Hell I don't remember my grade for that assignment but I do remember going from the "too afraid to talk to the teacher so I'll sit here and wet my pants, play alone at recess kid", to the "class clown, ask for the restroom pass kid". I will on occasion still wet my pants just to keep it real however. That ballooned into the mimicry and emulation of the late Chris Farley in my High School years. Now hopefully, my hope anyway, I've been able to have a more sophisticated humor as an adult (not including the joke about still wetting my pants, and yes it was a joke, and for the record I stopped that in the first grade.mostly). Although humor did seem to bring people joy it was still kind of surface so I decided some years ago if I thought something was nice about a person or something I liked, I would just say it. I felt enough people are around to make us understand how insignificant we are, that what if they actually new their potential or how they were actually viewed by others.
Sometimes however, like the rest of us, my decision making skills and thought process can be, well, ridiculous. Once in a while I think the best coarse of action is to push myself away and try to disappear so they don't have to be bothered. A perfect example of that occurred at work this past week. I said something to a co-worker that I didn't even think twice about and went on my merry way. To her it was very different. She was quite mad. I know this because of the flames jumping from her eyes and nose every time I spoke. I knew I had really done it but I didn't quite know what I had done, so I went to my favorite bag of humor, which of course only worsened the situation. Like eating a hot pepper and using water to cool your mouth, all I did was spread the heat and make it worse. through out the week I tried to apologize and smooth things over, but when that didn't seem to be working to me, I went Jackass up again and decided it's better for me to just let her be, and remove myself so the next shift I worked with her I decided to be cordial, speak when spoken to, don't ask any personal questions and all would be right.You genius Phil. Well of course not all was right, and she just figured I was ignoring her. I hadn't done anyone any favors and then we were both pissed.
Another example is of a woman was dating a friend of mine. She had begun to have feelings for me and I assume talked to my friend about it because he called me and told me I should date her. I was conflicted because of the relationship she had with my friend and so I hatched another great scheme. I would be deliberately mean to her so she would stop liking me, and the situation would be resolved. It's a wonder I'm not married right? So I went through with this great plan of mine and all I did was smash down an already fragile friend. She is happily married now with children, but I could have made life much easier for both of us. By trying not to break her heart I ended up hurting her anyway probably worse.I'll stop with those examples for the sake of my self esteem
In my psychology class they call this... just kidding, I don't give a damn what they call it. I just know life is too short, and good friends are too few for me to try to push them away. Instead I should do everything possible to hold on to them. If you fit this category(and there are many of you, men and women) then I am sorry, but just know I am indeed trying to change, as we all should.

Heroes Beware

In the movie Bottle Rocket, Luke Wilson's character after they knock off a book store said "well I'll tell you one thing I actually learned is, crime doesn't pay". I think that I've learned in my life being a hero pays even less. I did grow up like every other boy, admiring firemen. I was a Boy scout until they asked me not to come anymore. I would read story's on the back page of the scouting magazine Boys' Life which was always reserved for a Boy Scout who saved someone or did some other heroic deed. I dreamt of an opportunity to get that kind of fame. Well I did get my opportunity and then some, but fame turned out to be a fickle mistress. More like a kick in the crotch . Here are some examples of what I mean.

One day, while minding my own business and playing a sweet game of NBA JAMS I was was interrupted by a neighbors screaming. I went outside and could decipher her panicked screeches saying "My house is on fire". So i calmly walked around back grabbed her garden hose and doused the flames. I told her it's not on fire anymore and returned

to my game. When the fire truck arrived, I was informed that they were looking for me. I practiced my" Ah shucks it was nothin boys" speech on the way back over. that would be in vain because when I arrived at the house the only thank you I got was a "that was very foolish" Luckily another neighbor of mine Phil Musumeci was there to announce to the gathered crowd in his fine Italian accent "Don't listen to them, He's a G'damn hero!"

Another example was when I was swimming in the pacific ocean with a cousin. the current

was taking him further and further out. It was difficult for me as well and I realized that we were about to be screwed. I knew I could get back to shore but my strength was going fast trying to swim while pushing my cousin in the the waves. I made a decision that we would both make it back or we would both drown and so I continued to throw my cousin with every wave and yell "now swim!" Luckily my aunt was on the beach and flagged down some surfers to help us. Upon arriving back to the rest of the group my aunt started crying and my grandmother, thinking it was because of something I did (in her defense she was very ill) told me she would rip my balls off. Just hearing you're grandma say balls is traumatizing, much less the thought of castration by her hands.

I once stopped to help a stalled car by pushing it through an underpass. I apparently forgot to stretch properly and my knee cap dislocated, which with other factors started a decline of my knee and led to my knee looking and feeling the equivalent to an eighty year old mans knee.

I had to preform the Heimlich on a guy at work and was actually rewarded for that one with employee of the month only to have a co-worker corner me and

tell me I got it because the boss is biased and since then she has been relentlessly complaining about my poor work ethic.

I also had the audacity to call the cops on a man beating his wife. My fine reward for that, being late to football practice so I had to do 400 push-ups. And as a bonus the cops told the guy who called so he was looking to beat me now.

My latest act however has not bitten me yet. I ran down and cornered a man who was running from the police. It was a female officer and i felt bad that dude was about 300yards in front of her, so I joined in and caught him and told him the lady wanted to talk to him. When the officer finally caught up to us, about three minutes later she pulled her gun on dude and yelled for him to get on his knees and I, learning from previous mistakes took the opportunity to fly out of there like I did when they handed me my high school diploma. I was half way home before they even realized i was involved. All I could think is thank yous be damned. Nothing bad happened And that was Joy.

I'm told that I'll get my reward in heaven, but I want it now, in cold hard cash. I guess it doesn't matter because if I keep helping people with my luck I'll be seeing that heavenly reward sooner than later.

A note of warning:In all of my blogging time I have always enjoyed comments and have never erased any, but I will here on this post if anybody tries to politicize this post with comment like "what about the soldiers, when they're giving their lives only to have people protest?" Or don't try the religious lecture of" how do you think Jesus feels?" The answer is, however he wants to feel I guess. I am obviously writing this post with a facetious tone and if you don't get that then you're not that cool anyway, and if you defy me you will pay. maybe not pay, but I'll probably just erase your comment. If there is any lesson to learn here it's that you should probably do good things because it's the right thing to do. It sometimes is a true sacrifice and that means you don't get Jack back in return. But Who really cares if you get your story in Boys' Life. Screw you Boys' Life. your name kind of sound like a dirty mag anyway.

The 10 things of Annelissa Crane

This blog post is dedicated to Annalissa Crane. It is her ten best qualities. Before I begin I'm sure people have questions such as: Who is she? Is she your girlfriend? Are you stalking her? Did she pay you to do this? All of these are fare questions(especially the one about stalking) and I will answer them all in the timely fashion of never. Except for her sake I will tell you she's not my girlfriend. I don't want her to sue me for misrepresentation.
So lets begin
10. Her house always smells wonderfully. never was a time when I entered to have my senses disappointed
9. Her Job. I don't know exactly what she does but she works at a hospital so I'm pretty sure she's important.
8. Her devotion to her church. She is not afraid to leave somewhere at 6 am in the morning on a Sunday just to make sure she can make it to her 1 pm services and be prepared. I've seen her do it.
7. Her demeanour. She usually isn't the loudest in the room but she doesn't have to be either. The party seems to come to her rather than her trying to earn it.
6. Her skills in a canoe. she has a fine rhythm and power set she can get us around the lake as if the boat were on tracks.
5. She is very encouraging. She always remembers the thing you told her you were up to, whether it's very strange(which most of mine are) or even very little. She is 100% positive about it. She never will say "that's silly" or "you'll never do it".
4.her straight up kindness. rumor has it she'll just make you cookies if you're having a rough day. I've never experienced that but I don't usually have rough days either.
3.Her laugh. she doesn't have a giggle that I've heard. she either all out laughs or looks at you like you're a dummy, so you know if you are funny or not.
2. Her smile. like her laugh it is very sincere, yet mysterious like she knows you a little bit more than she should so you might as well just tell her everything anyway.
And that leads me to number ONE. Her eye's. I defy you to try and stair into them. you'll crack in seconds. It's like trying to look into the Sun because of their radiance. Okay that's cheesy, but true I don't think I've made it past four seconds yet and I've actually stared at the Sun for five.

The State Fair

The other day I visited the Utah state fair. It had been years since I ventured into the blessed celebration. What I do remember from my youth is mostly was the unpleasant aroma cow manure, dudes in cowboy hats trying to sell RVs, and junior firemen sticker badges. I also retain vivid memories of the giant slide that you would ride down in a potato sack leaving half of your skin behind on the slide. This year I went more on a whim. My sister Suzy suggested it to me while we were enjoying some burgers at Fudruckers. Since I'm always up for an adventure, I said what the hell why not and off we went to honor our states heritage by sniffing poop and looking at freakish animals( at least they don't use human freaks anymore).

When we arrived, after looking at some point quilting projects,and purchasing some five dollars sunglasses we were ushered in

to a strange tent by some friendly looking carnies with promises of great storybook without words. I enthusiastically sat down and excited for this magical story which turned out to be about Jesus and wasn't much of a story at all, more of a question and answer session. He was right about one thing, his book had no works in it, only a bunch of colors symbolizing different points of this man's sermon. He must've however seen my focus was not on his lord and master but rather on funnel cake, because he stopped abruptly and gave us release from his non-stories preaching.

Feeling a little gypped about not actually hearing a story, I was in sore need of that funnel cake and Suzy had a hankering for some fried alligator. As we neared our destination we were accosted by a robot of all things. Suzi, being filled with childlike wonderment most of the time, and be attracted to flashing lights, engage in a strange conversation with said robot. the robot congratulated us on fine marriage. When Susie attempted to correct his mistake, and told him that you were in deed brother and sister and not married, it was apparent that robots have no social faux pas about incest because even after the explanation he still congratulated us on how well we looked together. He then at least properly introduced himself as ICan because in his words "I can do anything". I figured this robot needed some exposing, so I asked him" can you eat fried alligator on a stick?"he answered" no, I have no digestive tract". I've had just about enough of the lying, incestuous robot and bid him good day. Finally I made it to my original goal and purchased some funnel cake and Suzy got her gator on a stick. Within moments I realized my body was not meant for fair food, and I felt as if my stomach had flipped, a practice I thought was only reserved for dogs. Suzi's gator treated her no better, and we ended up on a bench both moaning and holding our stomachs." I'm all torn up inside" was all I could mutter for the next 10 minutes. After I was able to walk again we started to leave and we happened on a seeing-eye dog that wasn't seeing for anyone, just walking free. At first I was nervous that a blind person without their aid but then I recalled the preacher and his tent and thought of course a blind person would be

drawn into the promise of a storybook without words. I also imagined that the storyteller probably told him his blindness was caused by his lack of faith and freed the dog. With that solid reasoning we left the fair for another year with a sense that I had regained a missing part of my life, and not just the manure smell

The Great Idea of camping

Who the hell thought up camping? And especially who tricked us into thinking it was fun?Yet every year I get the same bug for a crazy outdoor adventure. Some folks are realizing the dupe and have started to incorporate those things that separate us from the pioneers into camping. I call them "rich people". I went to this dudes cabin one time thinking ol' Abe Lincoln might be hanging out. Instead of honest Abe and a bunch of tree's thrown on top of each other, it was a house where the televisions alone could buy every house i ever lived in combined. I took the opposite route recently. Instead of flipping through 600 satellite channels in a weather controlled room, I ventured into the wild with a group of people from a rehab facility for people with brain injuries. you might ask your self why I would do this, and the simple answer is, I was paid.
Now for the telling of this story I have to change some names because of the confidentiality laws and what not, but I promise you the events are true as the scriptures. This is how it all went down
the place of my employment paid a company to take five of us river rafting down the snake river in Idaho. There was myself and Jackie Neerings as the workers and there was Charles, Ed and Corky as the participants. We arrived at the meeting place at the butt crack of dawn and were loaded onto a reformed handi-capped bus. on the bus we made some new friends. there was Buck who really enjoyed food. I personally witnessed him mash down an entire family sized bag of Doritos. Then there was Tom. Tom also enjoyed food, but mostly he just loved fishing. The final new friend was Martha. These cats all stayed pretty quiet for the trip up. All except Ed who would tell the same bad joke over and over due to the fact he has no short term memory. When we arrived at our camp site Charles had to use the restroom for the ninth time in the last couple of hours. Charles is in a wheelchair so I gave great praise when I looked passed the port-o- potties and saw an actual facility. when we entered the restroom we discovered there wasn't a Handi-capped stall so i would be doing some lifting. Charles also happens to be a man of great girth.when I sat him down he must of rocked backwards or something because the tank on the toilet all of the sudden crumbled like a sand castle being kicked by the brat kid who every one hates( including his parents secretly). within seconds we were up to our ankles of Idaho's finest toilet water springing from the new water fountain which used to be a toilet. The owners were very gracious and told me not to worry about the toilet probably due to fear because really who shatters a toilet that isn't in a Bruce Willis movie? Charles and I returned to find camp set up. All except Corky who also has no short term memory and he figured it was time to go back home cause no one told him 40 times that we were staying the night. Also he had to share a tent with his arch Nemesis Ed. Ed hated Corky. I know this because Ed said "I hate Corky". Ed was a bully for most of his life and has some crazy stories which everybody who hears them hopes they aren't true. Unfortunately censorship also seemed to be wiped away with his memory so he will tell anyone and everyone his grim tales. They did however make it in the tent because of rain and were able to put there differences aside for the common goal of dryness. I shared a tent with Charles who's talent for breaking toilets was only surpassed by his talent for snoring. Around 1:30 that morning through a thirty second reprieve of the snoring I heard a zipper unzip since it was to my right and I knew Jackie was far to the left I thought I had better investigate. I got up and stepped outside to see Corky with suitcase in hand staring at me ready to make a break for it. It looked like one of those movies of Russians fleeing before the wall went up only this time the Russian guard was in his underwear in the rain and sleep deprived. Corky must have felt my rage building and simply said "I need to use the bathroom". I thanked him for lying to me and sent him back to bed. Finally i found sleep, but it wouldn't last because around 5 o' clock Corky made a camp announcement. With suit case in hand he yelled" It's colder that a witches tit in a brass bra, and I'm starving!"which meant sleep was over for me.

that day we geared up and were getting set to raft the river. While we were preparing to raft, the dynamic came to life. Charles started having to have to pee every five minutes. Buck was finishing his third bag of twizzlers that morning. Martha had put on so many jackets she had become trapped. Ed was rambling about a seven foot black man he had to shoot for banging his wife, and Corky had gone to war with a water bottle. His water bottle had a lid on it and he couldn't figure out how to take the lid off so he just attempted to drink from a hole on the top of the lid. He was pouring water straight down his shirt and staring at his bottle as if it had just called his mom a whore. Jackie tried to ease his pain by showing him how to take the lid off. He graciously thanked Jackie, took a sip and placed the lid back on. Ten seconds later he was back to dumping water down his shirt through the hole in the lid and reviling the bottle as the devil. Jackie patiently showed him again how to retrieve water from his great foe, and again he was very thankful to her. This happened about four more times until Jackie was able to clog the hole. After all this the guide stepped forward and told us he thought rain was coming so we weren't going down the river. So we un-trapped Martha and loaded back up.
As we were approaching home the radio began to play the national anthem. soon there was a chorus as everyone on the bus felt obligated to join in the singing some even covering their hearts. I of course joined this sweet patriotic symbol of insanity, and as we sang i said to myself god bless America and god bless that great idea of camping

The Drug Personality Test

Today I had to take a trip to Logan for work. I was cruising along in a sweet Ford Taurus getting flipped off by beemers, when my co-worker Jackie Neerings and I conversed about what drug our personality would be. I felt like I would be cocaine, because i can sure make a dull situation fun and you almost always leave with less brain cells. Jackie said she would be crack because once you get her in your system you can't get her out. I thought that to be very clever and extremely confident, but it got me thinking with all these personality quizzes being the thing (I see about forty a day on my home page on facebook) isn't it about time for the "narcotic personality test". So here it is and it is every bit as scientific as those Chinese animal ones. I would rather be smack than a goat or a rat any day.

Weed person: if you are the one that says "lets do something" and then when you're asked "O.K., what do you want to do?" and you respond "I don't know" then you are in this category. you like to have a good time, but you suck at making decisions and would rather defer to others to make them for you. You usually are a fun time if accompanied by the right other drug personality.

Mushroom Person: If you hear " what the hell are you talking about" more than once a day then this is your spot my friend. A good example of this would be my friend Ed Johnson (see rest of blog). Like the drug not a lot of research has been done because no one can take that much of you. However you do make for a great story after.

Alcohol Person: you are the person making fun of everyone else, but if they dare shoot back you are ready to knock some teeth out. You are insecure and try to mask it with over-confidence. you usually start out fine and then over do it. You are the one everyone talks about when you're not there saying things like "man they make me uncomfortable" This is a bad one. Don't be this person.

Meth Person: You are very loyal. you would give you're two front teeth if asked. you're the kind of person who always says yes. If a friend asked you to join them for a movie and you didn't have the cash, you would overdraw your bank account just so you didn't disappoint them.

Steroid Person: This person is often referred to as a "Tool" there pumps are flowing full blast and are always viewing others as a threat. they are also known as "one uppers" If you tell a story they tell a better one. If you climb a pole they climb it faster. They usually are good with the opposite sex, so keep these people kind of close. also they might really be on roids.

Acid Person: You are the deep thinkers of the group. In fact sometimes you think so deep no one can stay with you. You are full of ideas that are so vague and yet so huge that follow through is near impossible. but when you can figure out you crazy dream its pure euphoria.

I think what we learn from this test is that it's best to experiment in all the groups and not stick with just one drug personality.

(note: the author of this blog does not condone the use of any of the aforementioned substances. In contrast, he is a strong proponent of "Hugs not Drugs" programs)

The Do's and Don'ts of the Musumeci's itailan deli

According to Phil's facebook page, the musumeci's deli was ranked as the #1 "Hole in the wall" restaurant in SLC. http://www.cityweekly.net/utah/article-7673-best-of-utah-2009-food-drink.html. I would agree with them, however there are some protocols that need to be followed when enjoying the deli.

Do: Know what you want when you step up to the cash register. I've seen many a man crumble under the pressure placed upon the undecided even the quick thinking Derek Wessman fumbled when squeezed by the Sicilian duo. I've heard that Phil has been referred to as the "Pasta Nazi"
Don't: Bring outside food! This is a biggie and if you do find you're self breaking this one Don't be a smart ass about it. There was a fella who broke both these rules once. He almost didn't live to tell about it. He brought some of the competitors food in and took a seat. The Phil's are great guys but come on, they've got a business to run. Plus they have the biggest "No Outside Food or Drink" sign in any restaurant ever. So this dude was a punk to begin with. He was told to move on and took exception. He sprayed the Musumeci's with obscenities then found out real quick why you shouldn't do that in a Sicilian kitchen. Papa Phil chased the punk out and according to Phil just happened to have a knife in his hand cause he was cutting bread. I'm just glad for everyone that punk dude got away so Phil could make that claim.

Do: Buy a sandwich from them cause they're great. enough said
Don't: Ask Phil Sr. if he is connected to the mob. Besides being ethnically insensitive, why would he tell you? And if the answer is yes then you would probably wish you hadn't asked. One time younger Phil asked his dad and his dads response was "whats the mob?"
Do: Tell Phil Sr. that soccer sucks and American football is the best. Only do this if you have a lot of time, because you are about to get an earful. I dare you.

I can't tell you how many times I've been to the deli, but every time I have thoroughly enjoyed myself and the two Phil's crazy antics I know all six of you people who read this blog have some more stories so please post them in the comments space

Philip and the wild dogs

One hot summer night I sitting in the living room of my home. I was enjoying a T.V. program when I was interrupted by a woman's scream from outside. Unfortunately that was fairly normal on the street. The Sandy police should have set-up a sub-station on good ol' 9585 south because they were there every other night. In fact one day my dad called the chief and told him he ran his crew like a pack of wild dogs. This probably increased the cop traffic on our street. The Cops presence was in no small part due to the involvement to young Phil Mususmeci. Indeed almost every time Phil was there. This experience was no different since the woman's voice was actually Phil's high pitched squeal of fury. I rolled my eyes and walked out to the porch to watch the show. Phil was berating my immediate neighbor to the left, calling her all manors of obscenities and making new ones as well. At one point he yelled to my neighbors live-in boyfriend to "put his bitch on a leash." I said to myself "now dude has to get involved," but dude just sat there. Apparently he wanted nothing to do with the 350 pounds of pure angry Italian meat that was verbally beating seven kinds of shit out of his lady. This whole argument was over fireworks and of course the calling of the cops. Apparently my neighbors were lighting fireworks at 12:30 am the night before. The Musumecis did not appreciate the show so they rang up the fuzz. The next night the woman decided to confront the M's. Big mistake! She now got a mouth firework show. And that takes us to me watching safely from my porch. The cops were there in a couple of minutes, probably anticipating the nights event. They quickly broke it up and peace once again reigned on 9585 south. Lest you think this is one of my quick wrap ups due to my lack of attention span, this story is not over, oh no. Two weeks later I was enjoying my birthday party with some close friends in my backyard. I had previously that night given some mortar shell fireworks to my friend Jaren Petersen. I wasn't about to use them after all the trouble earlier. But Jaren didn't mind the trouble and as he was leaving shot one off. It took us all by surprise and even made Boyd Madsen flip the hammock he was laying in. He landed on his face and guts, still makes my laugh out loud picturing that. We just continued in our conversation and all but forgot about the shell that lit the night, when the neighbor, the same one who allegedly needed to be leashed poked her head over the fence and said" are you the one's shootin' the fireworks cause someone called the cops." She continued with "I'll betch ya it was those dirty Italians across the street, cause they called the cops on us" unfortunately for her it was dark and she couldn't see that the dirty Italian was siting right next to me. Phil started in with round two when I asked him to honor my birthday and keep the peace. He honorably did and I was amazed. The cops did show up and were greeted by a personal escort from Boyd who announced there presence with a "hey guys the fuzz is here". This cop was probably getting off in a couple of minutes and wanted nothing to do with any of this so he just told us if we had them hide them and reminded us of the fine. We just blamed it on some kid who left the party early and was working on his own. The cop didn't care. That was the only time I can say that for the cops on good ol' 9585 south.

The family gathering

Usually I claim culture is just an excuse for doing bad things. This story is no exception. Phil is part Sicilian and his father is the real deal. The Musumeci's are a generous loving people, but when it comes to sheer will, or just being really pissed they take first place. Because of our obsession of mob movies anyone with that thick accent gets our imagination running. Phil's father Phil all though not connected,posseses that very accent, and gratefully for me lives up to the hype. One such occasion was at a forth of July family barbecue at a neighbors house. Philip (that's what we'll call the younger so we don't get mixed up) started whining because he didn't want steak. Phil thought Philip a little bitch, and told him so. Philip decided to let his dad know he didn't appreciate that in a disrespectful manor which blew the lid off that pot so high some neighbors still haven't recovered. F- bombs started flying, as the threats kept increasing in severity. Finally Phil took it to the scary point when he picked his steak knife up held it to Philip's face and said "I'll cut your face off with this f-n knife. Philip did the smartest thing he had done all afternoon and got up and walked away. However as he walked he kept his mouth running saying things like " come on, dad", which got the response from papa Phil "I kicked the shit out of you before and I'll do it again" Then to my knowledge the only threat that was actually held was uttered from Philip's sweet New Yorker mother who said "I'm not speaking to the both of you's" . Philip confirmed that she didn't for about two weeks.
I think the most amazing part of all of this is how the barbecue just continued on after like no ones life had been threatened. Phil ate his steak, Philip didn't, and we all enjoyed fireworks that night except poor sweet Barb Musumeci who was mightily embarrassed by her men

Since I have pretty well exhausted the Chronicles of Ed Johnson adventures, I have decided to focus on a new champion. His name is Phil Musumeci. Even though I know for a fact that Phil has read this blog I will not compromise. Mainly cause I know I could take Phil in a fight.

In this posting I will give you some background on Phil. Phil I have always said was the most sensitive heterosexual man I know. He moved to Utah some years ago and was known for his massive movie video collection, Cd's and fine assortment of playboys.

He and his father run a deli in downtown Salt Lake City. It's known for having fine sandwiches and the adventurous chance that you might get your ass kicked by the owners. I once ran into a man who told me "I've been sky diving, travelled to strange countries, but I have never been so intimidated as when I ordered food there." Of course he meant it as a compliment, so don't be frightened off from visiting them.
Phil also has a thing for the radio biz. He has won countless Disneyland trips and concerts over the years. His favorite station is 101.9 The End although I heard that sack of shit morning D.J. Chunga calling Phil fat for twenty minutes. That's rich coming from a dude who admitted to having lypo. But Phil is a lover and easily forgives even when forgiveness isn't even asked for.
I hope you enjoy this journey into Phil's life from my perspective. I hope that like Ed you see my actual love for these characters even though I seem harsh at times. I write with no malice.Well except for to Chunga you fat bastard.

Ed Johnson's Debacle

This isn't Phil. I know that this website is called just Phil, but that was basically a lie to get you to this web log (commonly referred to as "blog.") In fact, this is Phil's best friend and mentor Boyd. (some have also call me Phil's Lord and Master, but I defer to Jesus on those titles.)

Phil has recently been writing a number of stories about Ed Johnson, a childhood friend of ours. We both have a love and sort of retarded respect for Ed that has been born of going through thick and (mostly) thin with him for 10 or so years. We were there when Ed tried to convince us that soccer doesn't suck, we were there when Ed rocked a bolo tie at church, and we were there when Ed would come over and play Christifori's Dream on the piano ad naseum until you wanted to shoot yourself in the face with a 12 gauge shotgun. But there was a time when we weren't there for Ed. And that, my friends, was when Ed Johnson's Debacle occur ed.

Ed had secretly been wooing the niece of our high school choir teacher. Unbeknownst to his closest of friends, Ed had been to third base and back with this girl. If he just would have told us, just would have counselled with us, we would have told him to stop there. This girl was not attractive at all, nor was she cool. But Ed was lonely. Could you blame him? Yes. You could and did. Well, you can probably see where this story eventually ended: In the back seat of a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle. That night, Ed made a debacle. And his debacle was boning that ugly chick.

I won't go into the sordid details of what happened that night, nor where Ed's ejaculate ended up, but I will discuss the aftermath of his actions. For a while, none of us believed Ed when he told us that he had taken this most unfortunate of steps, but then, rumors from the girls camp started to be heard. See, that girl was spreading rumors about Ed's junk around the school, saying that it was small. Having seen Ed's junk in the shower at various Scout camps, I could dispel any of those rumors and am here to say once and for all that Edwin Johnson has a perfectly nice sized brat and potatoes. Shame on that girl if it cost Edwin any chances at better girls in the future!

Ed was ashamed of himself on many levels, including morally, but at least he had horrible friends like Phil, Derek, and me to remind him of his mistake. Indeed, we named two fairly mediocre intramural Basketball and Softball teams at Snow College in his memory: Ed Johnson's Debacle. We were just as poor on the court as Ed was in the back seat of that old VW. When Ed came to Snow to visit us, he was apoplectic with rage to find that we would name an intramural team thus, but in common Ed fashion, he good naturedly forgave us and saw the jacked-up humor in what we had done. Ed's a good guy that way.

Years have passed and I rarely see Ed anymore, but if I did, I would put my arm around him and thank him for all of the laughs over the years. Then, I would apologize for making him the butt of so many of those laughs. With this story, I believe Phil will retire the "Ed Johnson" theme and move on to another crazy in his past. It's probably time. So Ed, if you ever find this site, know that it was all done in love and for a laugh, and that any mean-spiritedness was done out of my own immaturity. God Bless you, Ed. You are an Icon.

Eat at Buccaneers Today!

All Smoked! All the time!

Even the dessert is smoked!

Ed and the road trip

This is a story about a road trip I once took with Ed and some other stars. We decided to drive to Phoenix or rather Derek decided we would go to Phoenix. The group consisted of Boyd Madsen, John Baker, Derek Wessman, Myself and of course Ed Johnson. The others may have known about this trip in advance, but my warning was quite minimum. I have a hard time telling Derek no and when he threw in that we would be going to a dodgers game, i decided with the heart and not the brain.(like many of the wendover trips in the middle of the night even though I have to be to work at 8 in the morning). I am glad I went though and it has become a great memory. While we all spewed profanities and talked about who was doing what to whom's mother, (by the way I checked with my mom and they were all lies, that or my mom is a real lying whore but I'm pretty 100% sure its the first one) when all of the sudden Ed got real excited and screamed "its the theme song to my marriage" and then turned the radio up to deafness level and began to sing along to the Starship song "Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now". I think that's what it's called maybe someone can clarify.

Later on the trip we drove onto the Indian reservation. Ed started to fill us in on the history his people. General Custer couldn't have done a better job of making us think those Indians were worthless than Ed and his stories. Luckily and hopefully we all realized that the opinions shared were not the opinions of the Navajo tribe or its AA sponsors, and Ed had no written or oral consent for his tour. I don't think Ed meant to put his tribe down, I think he wanted us to know how hard life is on the res. Also you have got to remember Ed is clueless and in fact reminded us of that when he said "look as this crappy land they gave us". Derek politely reminded him that that was the land of his ancestors that they chose before they knew of the white man. On the way back I was working on a three liter of Shasta when I bored and littered it on the highway on the reservation. "You idiot! Ed yelled. You could get a fine on the reservation". I asked," Because we couldn't all those times in Arizona and Utah?" Ed didn't answer. In fact he stayed quiet for about an hour when he asked "Are we in Utah?" Someone answered"yea we have been in Utah for about 20min." Ed then grabbed a whole bag of garbage and hucked it out the window.My response was of course "you idiot you could get A fine for that."

To soften it up for Ed when I think of that trip we were all a bit out of control and immature, and I could have written about anyone of the participants on the trip. Like John going to Eve's Tease, but that wouldn't go with my theme here now would it. If anyone would like to add Ed stories go right ahead. I know he would appreciate it