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