The W.O.D. Part II

With the month winding down I will now be transcribing another weekly topic. For those not too familiar with Randomity, I select a topic to hash out and discuss for an entire week with any comments or pokes from my audience. This month, my half-empty demeanor has shuffled me back to a topic in which I previously discussed a few months earlier, and I felt that there were even more angles to attack this subject from. With that being said, I unveil...

Wait for it...

The Week of Dating; Part Deux!

Yeah, I know I've brought this up before, but there are still so many points to be brought up and argued over. Add to the fact that a major case of frustration and a Keystone "bitter-beer face" encrusting my demeanor have been an influence as to why I think this topic should be brought up again.

But with that being said, this week I shall be bringing forth seven new independently thought out point of views about dating, relationships, and anything else associated with camping out on cloud nine.

I remember when I used to work as an editor for my college's newspaper, we had a very distinctly original fellow who published a weekly column. I give him the blogalias of Dr. Love because that was the pen name that he gave himself. And every week he would write a relationship advice column for all of his readers.

In a sense, I am walking in the footsteps of Dr. Love by writing yet another W.O.D. You can take it with a grain of salt because these words of wisdom are going to be given to you by a 26-year old single guy in southern Utah. Which by Utah standards means that I am currently a menace to society.

Enjoy...






- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Do You Know So-And-So?

The soggy night is fading on, and I’m midway through a “Bro-date”. We just had a very manly dinner at the Outback and are waiting for a very manly movie later on. As noted in my status, Bro-Code rule #317 states that if four Bros ever go out for dinner and a movie, the c-word should never be uttered mid-conversation. By c-word I mean cute. That lingo instantly diminishes our masculinity.

In between our steaks and cinema, myself, Rocksteady, Chief Kent, are seated in our living room listening to Four-Eyed Fidelito, (nice blogalias eh?) pluck away on his guitar and belt out the lyrics to a random song about a guy who has a relationship with a houseplant. I have no idea where the song comes from, but Fidelito is a talented sucker with a six-stringed strummer tucked away between his fingers.

For full effect, download “Remember the Name” by Fort Minor and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. Either that, or if you can find the random tune about a guy loving houseplants, you’ve got my blessing as well.

Driving in the rain this afternoon I passed exit 42 southbound on I-15, this exit takes you to a tiny town called New Harmony. I know a few folks from this neck of the woods, in fact we even have an ambassador working for us from New Harmony, a great one at that. I even remember the first time the two of us had a conversation. It went as follows:

Swamp Thing: “So where are you from then?”

New Harmony Ambassador: “I’m from a small town up the road called New Harmony. Have you ever heard of it?”

Swamp Thing: “Yeah, once or twice. New Harmony huh? That’s cool. I went out with a girl from New Harmony. Do you know New Harmony Cardboard 5?

New Harmony Ambassador: “Uh, yeah, I’ve met her once or twice. She’s fun.”

Cut to awkward pause between the two of us as we both sat in sullen silence with the realization that we both know the same person. OMG! THAT IS SO AMAZING!

Why is it our natural instinct to ask someone mid-conversation if they know someone when we find out the location of their origin? ‘Oh, you’re from there? Do you know so-and-so? Cool! So do I! That is so amazing!’

When in reality it’s not. We both know the same person? Well LA-DEE-FREAKIN-DA! (Say in a Chris Farley accent). Yeah, there are some cues to reminiscing about all of the good times, or bad times, that we had with so-and-so, but for the majority of the time it’s not going to matter whatsoever.

I often found an exaggeration of this so-and-so questioning when I spent a couple of years on the other side of the country, when in random conversations people would find out about my hometown and ask if I knew so-and-so as well.

Virginia: “Oh, you’re from Utah? Do you know Kelly?”

Swamp Thing: Blank stare of pure awkwardness.

Virginia: “Kelly’s from Utah, you have to know her.”

Swamp Thing: Continued blank stare… “Yes. Yes I do.”

Virginia: OMG, that is SOOOO cool!”

Cut to awkward silence.

Why do we instinctually wonder if someone we just met knows someone that we know from our past? Why do we care about this at all? Why is Four-Eyed Fidelito singing a song about a man who is in love with a plant? I have no idea. The only thing that I know for certain is this, if four Bros ever go out on a Bro-date, the c-word should never be said.

Cut to awkward silence.

When I am an Old Man

So I may have had someone get after me for not updating my blog recently. Yeah, I’m a slacker. This is the busiest time of year, and there are some crucial things going on in my life at this point, but hey, I can’t let you down. I need to give you 36 readers that seven and a half minute highlight for your day that will keep your mind occupied meanwhile you’re dropping the kids off at the pool.

Especially you, Rocksteady.

In other news, I just perhaps might throw a red stapler (LTT) at one more person who asks if I have lost weight yet again. I know that I’ve blogged about this in the past, but honestly, why is the non-existent fluctuation of my weight something that seems to be a continually running topic in your own minds?

The Glee President: “Dang Brock, you’re really thinning out. You losing weight at all?”

Swamp Thing: “Thinning out? What kind of a behemoth was I before? I’ve been the same weight for five years straight, and you think I’m thinning out?”

The Glee President: “I’m just sayin’, you’re lookin’ pretty good.”

Swamp Thing: “I don’t know whether to say thanks, or to worry if your wife will get jealous from those comments.”

The fact that this came from a guy made the unpleasant inquiry a little bit more awkward. And maybe I am losing weight. How the heck should I know? Guys don’t weigh themselves do they? Maybe my diet of Mt. Dew and sunflower seeds for the past two weeks straight is having an influence on my poundage. Either way, please don’t text me and attempt a shallow compliment that my love handles are losing their volume. I might go a little bit Dwight Schrute on you.

Whew! Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I will address the topic at hand that may put a little chuckle across your face. Last week while I was touring central Utah as a traveling collegiate salesman, I made a pit stop in Richfield, UT and moseyed on over to the Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town. Which I may add is the town’s most happening and popular joint. All the “cool” people shop at Wal-Mart in Richfield.

As I walked through the squeaking glass doors around 11:45 at night, I noticed a fragile old man plopped down in a shaggy brown wheelchair at the entrance. He had on the classic blue vest and smiley face pin that all senior citizens wear when they take on the role of “awkward entrance folks”. This chap was so far ahead in his age though that I don’t even think he knew anyone was even in Wal-Mart to begin with. Heck, he probably didn’t even know that HE was in Wal-Mart.

I felt sympathetic for “Donald” as I bought a package of socks and walked back into the night. And as I hit the road for another couple of hours, my inception-esque thought pattern swirled to the speculation of who and what I will be like when my name is Donald and I’m half-consciously planted in a seat with wheels, making $3.75 an hour to forcefully put a smile on my face. Keep in mind I don’t even think I’m going to make it that far in my life. But that’s a completely different blog post at a later date.

There are all stereotypes as to the personalities of “old people”. There is the sweet Grandpa that always has a drawer in his office full of hidden candy that he “secretly” gives away to his adoring grandkids whenever they pop in for a visit. There is the imitation of Donald who is a jumbled paragraph away from being locked up in the room with the white padded walls and the hug myself jacket. There is also the cranky old geezer who’s always yelling at the kids from down the street to get off his lawn, a combination of the Dad from “That 70’s Show” and Clint Eastwood’s character from Gran Torino.

I think I’ll be that last specimen. An ornery pucker with a scowl splashed across my face that scares Medusa away from my own cave. I think I’m working on being that kind of a guy already. I never share my candy. I always hand out deathly cold glares to random people. I negatively and sarcastically toss out comments to innocent puppies who I think are trying to pick a fight with me with their semi-serious yips.

Yeah, that’s me, in a nutshell. You’ll either love me or hate me as a disheveled Donald who stands at the entrance to Wal-Mart and glares at the customers with a demeanor that will make them one day write their own blogposts about the crazy lunatic who failed to greet them when they went in to buy their own package of socks in Richfield.

I hope by that point in life someone doesn’t walk up to me and ask, “Hey, have you lost weight?”

Unshaven Red Rock

I'm still on the road roaming from town to town as a traveling salesman living out of the back of my Nissan Rogue. Today's journey has carried me from Richfield to Beaver to Cedar City, including pit stops on the side of the road with highway patrol lights flashing in my rearview. But don't worry, I know how to talk my way out of those types of situations.

Cop: "Mr. Bybee we clocked you going 73 in a 55. Did you know that you were speeding?"

Swamp Thing: "Oh really officer? I had no idea. I must say you look ravishing in that dark uniform with the badge, very attractive." Cue the smooching lips.

Cop: "Why thank you Mr. Bybee, but I'm married. And plus I don't swing that way."

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

In other news I was driving down the road in Cedar City this afternoon when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something that from a Bob Ross perspective would make someone cringe.

Now I'm not being critical of Cedar City with these next few paragraphs They had no say in it at all. Plus, I've learned to really like this community 49 miles north of where I live. SUU is a great school and it's a nice, quaint town nestled in the rocks around it. It's the rocks however that have the real problem.

Because they're UGLY!

See the above picture for dramatic emphasis. Don't get me wrong, I L-word the red rocks, I really do. It's something that looks great against the blue sky and desert clouds surrounding it. Yeah, so what If I'm sounding a bit artsy fartsy, I think the red rocks look spectacular. But when they have a spattering of ugly green sagebrushes all over them, that seems to ruin the ultimate effect.

Those plant-like boogers that are painted across the rocks makes it look like the canyon is making a weak sauce campaign at growing a peach-fuzz beard meanwhile just entering puberty. A failed environmental attempt at being a man, with a sad case of scruff dotting the landscape.

It's ugly. Plain and simple. I almost want to take a couple hundred barrels of Edge shave gel and a Gillette Mach 5 razor and help this hillside become a man. Because right now, it's getting shut down by all of the pretty little ladies surrounding it.

Especially the belles from down south named Dixie.


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Dates With Myself

So I sit here in the epitome of a run-down old-timers movie theatre in classic Richfield, Utah. Yes that's right kids, I'm hard at work on a Tuesday night, fully immersed in my attempts at convincing high school students to join the ranks of the Red Storm. If you read my last post you caught a sliver of a glimpse at what life is like for me, on the road in the middle of nowhere that is.

For full effect, download "Sparks" by Coldplay from iTunes and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. No, seriously, stop reading this blog right now and get that song. It is hands down the best possible background music that can be played while you read about the adventures of my life.

All 36 of you.

As mentioned a few days ago, it is difficult to have a relationship on the road. It really is. Not many girls want to go out with a guy that they'll see once every four weeks. And it's hard to schedule a date with a girl when I'm driving all over Utah.

Swamp Thing: "So uh, you want to go out some time?"

Jane Doe: "Yeah, we really should. When are you free?"

Swamp Thing: "Well, we could uh, go out when I get back from that financial aid night in Price. How about I'll come pick you up around 1:45 in the morning when I'm pulling into town?"

Her response of the click of her telephone has become all too familiar to me at this point. That sound is just one of the many factors that causes me to settle for a nice evening of serenading myself to sleep.

Having a social life on the road is in essence difficult to say the least. When my friends are getting together for the weekend to have a road trip to Las Vegas and all I can give them is a figurative high five 536 miles away, it makes it tough to keep up with all of my interpersonal relationships other than through Facebook and text messages.

It is because of all these circumstances that I have developed a new dating system. I have found one of the most perfect, humorous, tall dark and handsome glasses of water that I have ever laid eyes on, and someone who I L-word spending every waking moment with.

Myself.

I know this sounds weird, but hear me out. This may appear to be comical and in a humorous fashion, but honestly being on the road has given me the impression that the only one who I have time to have a serious long-term relationship with is the guy who I see every morning as I look in mirror. And I will admit, he is devilishly handsome.

Take tonight for example. I picked myself up around 7:00, drove 97 miles across Utah where I had dinner at PepperBelly's, a Mexican/drive-in diner attempt at a restaurant. My date wasn't that talkative over dinner. All he did was stumble through his spicy mashed potatoes and kept checking his iPhone for score updates on the Indians-Tigers game.

After dinner (which by the way I had to pick up the check for) we stopped by the theatre where we're at now. Again, this kid wasn't that talkative so I decided to pull out my phone and blog. I hate playing head games with him, but for some reason I seem to be able read him so well and know exactly what he's thinking about ALL the time. Uncanny, I must say.

This may sound semi-hilarious, but this is just the way that I live my social life these days. I work, and study, and go to dinner and movies with myself. That's just the way that it works. I've got no complaints at all. I really don't. I have enough self-confidence that I really can go to a cheap Mexican diner and a crummy movie theatre all by myself. And I'm used to it. Who knows how long this relationship is going to last? And hey, I may even update my status on Facebook. Is it possible to post that I'm in a relationship with myself?

Whatever happens, I'll be alright out here on the road. And whenever this feeble attempt at a scary movie gets over I'll go ahead and take him home.

Who knows what the doorstep scene will be like.

Location:A Random Theatre in Richfield

Life On The Road

Lying on a worn out leather couch on a Saturday afternoon wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a Buckeyes t-shirt, I think that I’ve finally gotten caught up with the whir and commotion that made up my life this past week. Gratefully I tip my hat to the season premier of college football to keep my sanity at a “normal” level. Lately I’ve tried to “catch up” on my sleep, but for some reason I was informed that doing so is physically and mentally impossible.

The Half-Empty Buffalo: “People always say that they need to ‘catch up’ on their sleep, but you just can’t do it!”

Swamp Thing: “You can’t? Why not?”

The Half-Empty Buffalo: “Because once the hours have gone by and you’ve let them pass while being awake, they’re just gone. Finito! You cannot have them back. To try and think that you’re going to somehow regain the hours of time by sleeping more just makes you a fool.”

Thank you Half-Empty Buffalo for ruining the glorious potential of my snoozes this weekend. You have just made me realize that all of the time I spend asleep will be in vain. That’s why I sure love ya buddy.

For full effect, download “Road Trippin’” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. The reason I selected that tune as the theme music for this post, is because the road is where I live my life these days. The road is my life.

Life on the road isn’t as delicate and simple as I thought it would be a year and a half ago. Don’t get me wrong, I L-word my job. I really do. There are just some unique aspects about life on the road that have me shaking my head in a semi-bewildered stupor at moments. Life on the road involves time, money, and energy that sometimes wear out a 26-year old single guy like me.

Life on the road is putting 993 miles on my Nissan Rogue in 3½ days alone. Life on the road is trying to explain what the concept of a “mall” is to a hometown hero in the small town communities of southeast Utah. Life on the road is wearing the same red shirt and khaki pants five days in a row. Life on the road is losing to my Grandma in a game of hand and foot on a Saturday night.

Life on the road is a giant pack of jumbo sunflower seeds that are revolving through my mouth at an alarming rate just so I won’t fall asleep at the wheel at 6:41 in the morning. Life on the road is belting out the verbatim lines to the song “We Didn’t Start The Fire” by Billy Joel 81 consecutive times to keep my eyes open from Nephi to my apartment. Life on the road is being able to drive from St. George to Layton blindfolded, and knowing exactly where all of the speed traps are. Life on the road is playing connect the dots with all of the bugs splattered across my windshield.

Life on the road is making a pit stop in Parowan to buy a large can of Pizza Pringles, two bottles of grape soda, and a bag of gummy worms as my unhealthy extremely late dinner. Life on the road is having my butt cheeks make a crevasse in the polyester fabric of my drivers seat. Life on the road is chiropractic adjustments to compensate for being in the seated position for six consecutive hours at times.

Life on the road is Best Western’s, Fairfield Inn’s, and Holiday Inn Expresses. Life on the road is tiny bottles of shampoo, and tiny bottles of conditioner, and even tinier packets of soap that I scrub up with every morning that cause me to imagine I am a giant standing in a hotel’s shower. Life on the road is alarm clocks that make the noise, “This is the front desk issuing you a 5:45 morning wakeup.” Life on the road is crashing in the backseat of my car because all of the hotels are booked in Price, UT caused by the local rock convention.

Life on the road is putting dating and any kind of relationship development on hold because I’ll only be able to see them on the weekends. Life on the road is paying rent for an apartment that I’m going to sleep seven nights in over the next three months. Life on the road is not being able to stay in contact with an ex-girlfriend because wireless networks won’t be developing in Duchesne, UT until 2019.

Life on the road is putting down a basketball from September to December, and looking like an uncoordinated third grader when I get a chance to lace up in the middle of winter. Life on the road is having a social life solely through Facebook and Reddit. Life on the road is quiet dinners by myself at backcountry diners that haven’t yet killed the cow for the spring hamburgers. Life on the road is deleting the words “diet” and “workout” from my memory bank for a couple of months. Life on the road is paying my crossfit dues, and never able to show up to the gym.

Yes, that’s my life, in a nutshell. A life where I give high school students the opportunity to pursue a higher education. A life giving 126 consecutive keynote presentations that put a smile on a student’s face. A life where I realize that I made a difference in someone’s life, and they in turn are going to make a life changing decision about where they’re going to go to school.

I sure do L-word life on the road.