Friday, December 11, 2009

Utah, a Mysterious Farter, and Top Chef

I am not a fan of the state of Utah. It has to be the most boring, scariest state to drive through in the world. I was doing a cross country drive from Chicago to Los Angeles, and it was my second day of driving. I was ready to call it a night and find a place to stop in Utah, since I was late, tired, and I only had a little gas left. Now normally, there are usually exits every ten miles or so for gas, food, and lodging. And if there isn’t a service exit, then there is a sign that tells you how long till the next one. Apparently Utah doesn’t see the need to follow those rules. Because there was nothing and I mean absolutely nothing telling me where I could get gas and stop. And I don’t know if you’ve ever driven through Utah before, but it is a creepy state to drive through at night. There are hardly any other cars, the roads are curvy, and there are these huge monstrous hills to the side of the road. It looks exactly like where “The Hills Have Eyes” took place. I never did see the movie because I’m a bit of a wimpy baby, but I do remember seeing the previews and covering my eyes.

(Need a hand Jonno?)

So this is going on for a half hour and I’m still not seeing any service exits. I’m at the point where I have absolutely no gas left. I do see a sign for an exit called “Salinas” that is about 15 miles away. I’m hoping that I can make it there, but even if I did make it to the exit there’s a good chance there would be no gas stations there. On top all of this, I wasn’t getting any service on my cell. So I then preceded to have a bit of a panic pany freak out attack. I created the scenario in my head where I have to pull over on the side of the road because I was out of gas. I couldn’t make a phone call because I wasn’t getting any service. So I then had to hitchhike for help. And then some large burly Mormon man, has his way with me and chops my head off. I know most Mormon people are friendly and non-violent, but the Mormon that I dreamt up in my head was a vicious psychopath. Fortunately, I finally arrived at the “Salinas” exit and there was a gas station. It was a friggin miracle! So I’m proud to say no large burly Mormon man had his way with me and chopped my head off. I still ended up hooking up with a large burly Mormon man, it was mutual consent.

Other McNuggets...

I’m beginning to think there is a mysterious farter following me wherever I go. Whether it’s at the gym, a restaurant, or a public restroom, the mysterious farter always knows how to find me. Please allow me to take a second to explain how the mysterious farter works… I’ll be at a public sink washing my hands and out of nowhere this toxic, heinous, fart smell will come out of nowhere. I then look around to see who did it, and there is nobody there. Then a few seconds later… Somebody will enter, smell then fart, and look at me as if I did it. When I’m 100 percent innocent. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been guilty of some horrid blasters in the past. But those were usually done in my own privacy. Mysterious farter, I don’t know who you are, but I’ll do whatever it takes to track you down! You got me?

-Since the whole Tiger Woods fiasco has been causing a lot of buzz, I figure I might as well give my awkward take on it. There is no doubt Tiger is an idiot for what he did and I don’t condone cheating for any reason. But can we really be that surprised? The guy is Tiger Woods. He’s only one of the most famous public figures in the world. On top of that he is traveling non-stop through out the year. So let’s say each time he goes out to a bar or a restaurant there’s probably eight women trying to hit on him. And let’s say he’s gone a hundred days out of the year. So that’s 800 women a year he has to turn down. For a man, that is extremely difficult. The majority of guys I know would not be able to turn down all those women. There are some exceptions, such as myself, given I’m a man of ethics and morals and also a bit of a wuss. But unfortunately most dudes I know would not be able to resist the temptation. I’m sure though that if Tiger had the mysterious farter following him around, all of this could have been avoided.

-So now that I’m in a new city, I of course had to join a new gym. I mean how else am I going to maintain this amazing physique? There happened to be a Bally’s right down the street from me. So I figured based on it’s convenience and price, I would just join that one. Now, I’ve never belonged to Bally’s. I know it’s a large chain and maybe not as nice as other gyms I’ve belonged to in the past, but I was okay with that. So I meet with one of the Sales Managers and he seems like a nice enough gent. He gives me a tour and frankly the gym looks like complete crap. The best way to explain twhat the gym looks like… Is imagine for whatever reason a gym and the people inside of it were frozen in 1991. And then by some miracle, the gym came to life in December’09. That’s exactly how it looked to me. So even though I was not impressed with the aesthetics of the place, for $25 I figured I would join. So right after I signed the dotted line, this schlubby guy walks in. He yells to the Sales Manager, “Hey, just so you know, some guy from the Health Inspection Department is taking pictures in the locker room. Why can’t you guys fix up that place already? It’s friggin disgusting!” I appreciate the information Mr. strange schlubby man. Where the hell were you three seconds ago?

-It’s assumed that when you are at a public place such as a coffee shop, it’s not the most polite thing to talk on the cell phone loudly. I mean you can have a conversation for a few minutes that is not disruptive and is socially acceptable. But apparently people who don’t speak English feel it is appropriate to yell on the phone and talk for a good hour. I don’t really understand the rationale there. Just because you speak a language we don’t understand you’re allowed to kick back, relax, and talk up a storm? That’s not fair! I can’t wait for the time I visit your country and start yacking loudly on my cell while you’re trying to get work done. I might get castrated and murdered for doing it, but it will be worth it to prove my point!

-I’ve turned into a big fan of Top Chef. I’m not really into cooking, but I think it’s more because the inner fat kid in me gets aroused. (He’s going through puberty) I watched the finale last night and I was pleased with who the winner was. I knew for the suspense it would come down to the two Voltaggio brothers. And even though that fat Kevin guy was talented, something about him annoyed the heck out of me. I must say I cannot stand the host, Padma Lakshmi. She must have the most boring personality and tone I’ve ever seen. She’s almost as bad as that buxom host for The Biggest Loser, Allison Sweeney. I really think instead of prescribing Ambien, they should just have Padma talk for five minutes and people would be knocked out cold in no time.
(Do I make you sleepy?)

-In weird couple news… Jessica Simpson is supposedly dating Billy Corgan. I’m not sure what the attraction there is for Jessica. But it proves the theory again to all you below average looking men out there… You wanna date a hot gal? Then you better be one hell of a musician. If you need some more clarification just ask that pudgy, weird looking, lead singer of the Counting Crows.

I'm Out!

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