Jazz Fans

The Lakers have once again entered into the NBA finals. As this glorious event transpired, I realized that once again the Jazz fans will have to wait another year to get beat again. I really cannot wait for next year to be here. My goal is to be at the La game in SLC, sporting a Kobe jersey. I would love to wear that purple and gold, with a big 24 on the front, and have everyone haze me. Here is the thing though, I feel bad for Jazz fans. I do. I feel bad that they can't win. But at the same time, I want to punch every hard core jazz fan in the throat.

They are the most irrational people in the sporting world. Your typical Jazz fan is LDS and live in Utah, or they are just lds and have family in Utah. Their basketball IQ... pretty low. And for some fallacious reason, they hate the Lakers. I guess this is where I do not get it. Why? Why hate the lakers? "Its cause Kobe raped a girl...you gunna root for a rapist. And he is a ball hog. Oh, and Fisher, total jerk. He is a traitor! Plus they are like the Yankees of the NBA. Just jump on the bandwagon. Fetch man." I'll counter each of these ridiculous claims.

Kobe the Rapist. First of all, do most jazz fans understand what happened? No. Not at all. Just hear say, and that is what matters. First of all, the DA decided to prosecute him, not the victim. It was also found that she had relations with other men besides Mr. Bryant within that same week. He also admitted that he committed adultery. He went to trail... he didn't settle it out of court... and was dropping 40 on the Nuggets during the playoffs. Sounds like his guilty conscience really got to his game. If you hate Kobe, then you have to hate every person who has done that. Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, Wilt Chamerlin, this list could go on and on, and those are just b-ball players. Oh... did I fail to quote some doctrine? Like love one another. Or it is required of us to forgive all men... if your perfect cast the first stone... how about hate the sin not the sinner. Or did most mix that last one up. Hate the sinner.

Or is it is game that you hate? Yeah, he is too good. Shoot. Might as well hate Johny Bravo and Brad Pitt.

Fisher the traitor. I am literally laughing right now. Give me a break. His daughter had a life threatening disease and the specialized hospitals were in NYC and LA. How dare he go back to a place he has already established residence. That isn't human. PALEASE! I have a name for you, KARL MALONE. The mailman quit working for the Jazz and went to LA to win a 'ship. Now, your Jazz icon went to the Lakers. Ouch. I guess he wanted to win one. Couldn't do it with the jazz. Sucks that a Tarheel was in the NBA at the same time as old Malone and Stockton. Just keep selling your cars while Jordan is selling his clothes. I guess I just lumped two arguments together. A side note, black players look better in the purple and gold.

Bandwagon jumper. I loved Kobe as soon as he left Lower Marion High in Pennsylvania. He was going to be the next MJ. He had a slow start, but I still loved his fro, spaceman boots, and silky fade away. I bet I know more about the Jazz then most Jazz fans. I guess I also like winning. Unlike rooting for a team that will never win. Get rid of J. Sloan, he ain't a winner. Get some real talent. All you have is heart and D. Will.

All in all, all of the Jazz fans arguments are lame. We have the loudest stadium...no that was Oklahoma this year. We have the most heart... yeah and you got swept... We are the best fans... and that is really helping. Get over it. You guys are competitive, but not winners. Quit being mad. Cub fans got over it. Just be happy with where you are, in the middle of the pile. Just sit back and watch a real team take it in the championship.

A personal goal

despite my broken self, i have made a goal to do something really cool every day. for example: write a rap, record a rap, become a rapper... sorry for the tangent, but those are some really cool things. OR like make a dry ice bomb.

but the problem is why do i even write these posts... no one freaking reads them.

My case for Cedar City

A lot of my friends are ready to get out of Cedar. They are tired of the scene. They were either raised in Cedar or grew up near by. They believe that moving to a place like Provo will solve all of their problems. I guess I may have a skewed view, being from a different state, but I think I have some good points to consider.

1. They hate guys who flex their nuts. Cause real gangstas don't flex nuts, cause real gangstas know they got em. Provo is filled to capacity with a bunch of lifted truck, ambercrombie, tough acting clowns. Here in cedar we worry about a few. Now multiple that by 1000. That is how many there are in provo, too many to count. And that effects every aspect of my boys lives.
a) Girls. For some unknown and idiotic reason, girls tend to lean towards these greasy pigs with deniro running out of their ears. Maybe its their money, good looks, or pseudo charm. I don't know. I am no Mel Gibson, but my intuition tells me that a woman would love a man for the inside. Then again, I have been wrong more than once.
b) Intramural sports. No one likes losing, and my friends HATE losing to douche bags. Welcome to P-Town. And they may say, "Oh, we won't lose." They will. Ex. Intramural basketball, slow pitch softball, flag football.

2. Say goodbye to this tight knit group. It will disband. The Herd will be no more. Men will move on. Provo is big. Gas is pricey and women are plenty. No more liming with the boys. The demise of the herd is inevitable, but it will decay b/c of lame reasons that are found in provo. No more ping-pong, recording records in Chads basement, making fun of me, running over trash cans, and sitting around wondering what we are going to do. All of the sudden they will be able to make decisions about what they want to do! They won't need a group. They will get g/f... which is cool. I guess. I don't know, i've never had one.

3. Church. Crying and lying, open mike night, the shout out, truth or dare, or as some people call it: testimony meeting, will be more of a competition and disgrace there. The meat market it fueled by liars and thieves. No one wants to support that kind of race. My brothers hate that type of situation, but by going to provo, they will expose themselves to it more often than just church. These fools litter dance parties, sitting in the hall explaining why they are so spiritual, rather than dancing. They will be in the burger joints, conducting mini district meetings with their return missionary friends. They will be on the linger longer commitee kicking people out of the chapel.

4. Cedar forces men to be creative. To think outside of the box. It is the last frontier, daring its inhabitants to explore, to reach beyond themselves and find who they really are. The red rock, high mountains, and wind blown trees are a testimate of this type of transformation that occurs. Character and ruggedness are the attributes that this land produces. Would my friends rather be a Calvin Kline model, or a man, like Robert Redford. Metro sexual or Rugged. Dana Carvey or Jack Black. Alex Rodriguez or Johnny Damon. Kyle Korver or Raja Rohndo. Lady Gaga or Pink. Provo or Cedar. Move to provo. Hang up the potato gun, any kind of gun, the creative hat, the gloves, and trade it in for "i am going to be just like the rest of them" hat. Damn that.

5. Be someone or be apart of the crowd.




Disclaimer: I want to move to provo.

Living on a love sac.

....Is probably one of the more uncomfortable things to sleep on. Surprising really. The downy soft feeling, the spacious room is has, it's inviting roundness all seem to point to a luxurious form of comfort. Not so. Most people lay on a love sac for about a hour or two, maybe, usually for a movie, television watching, or gaming. They aren't sleeping. And another fact, it is called love sac for a reason... need I say more? I shall answer that retorical question, Negative.

I fluffed it up, before I slammed into it like the Undertaker off of the top ropes. This proved to be most unproductive. My body formed a canyon in the sac. The walls came in around me like a mothers arms, only these arms were not filled with love and compassion. The sac has no feelings. It bent to my body in such a way that resulted in serious discomfort. Horrawful. I awoke and determined that I wouldn't sleep in that state again. Although my other alternative isn't much better--the floor. Such is life of a college student.

The game.

I just had one of the worst nights of my life. All b/c of a girl.

In a nutshell.

The day started out grand. I went shooting with this girl, we'll call her Becky to make things simple. Anyhow. I went clay pigeon shooting with Becky. It was fun. I had a great time. Hit some baseballs in the afternoon with the same chick and some friends. My day was going grand. In the evening I had an enjoyable time playing on my friends softball team. I had a pretty good game too. I decided that I wanted to kick it with this girl again. Maybe see what happened. She seemed like a way cool girl. And I had put myself out there enough to let her know that I was interested.

We kicked it. Played some cards, watched a funny animated film, then talked. I tend to lean towards the easier route. If she is into me I am into her. I've never been good at chasing... and looking at the day in retrospect I see why. On the surface it looks like a good solid day. WRONG. Dead wrong. I did so many things wrong.

First off, I kicked it with this girl for more than several hours, meaning more than 3. Bad move man. I know that rules are important to dating. I used to think, "Screw these unofficial rules man. They are for dudes that just want tail. Go with the flow." Not any more man. They are a safeguard. The protect suckers like me.

Second bad move: I always assume. Now, I know you have to have confidence. You should feel like a million bucks, but just because you think every girl wants some, doesn't mean it is true. It has been my sad experience, that it isn't true. I always assume that I can read people. I have not a clue. I can't figure people out more than I can figure out the chemical formula to the element that Iron Man invented. I assumed that this chick was interested. I mean, she text me saying that she wanted to hang out. She never said that she didn't want to hang out. However, I am probably the only option, or one of the few options she has. Girls think that guys just want to be friends. Sure we like a girl or two we can get back scratches from or some advice, but those are usually the girls that have made the rounds, and we figured that it wouldn't work. Becky probably just wanted some entertainment. She was bored, needed something new.

Third: I gave way too much. I didn't play hard to get. I practically told her that I liked her. Terrible. I do not know her that well (once again I assumed that she was tight), and girls love to chase (assuming that she liked me). The morning shoot was expensive, shells and clay pigeons aren't just handed out. Remember, this was the first time we hung out alone. Call it a date if you want. I didn't even test the waters. I dove right in. During the shoot we made a bet about snow cones. I won... but guess who ended up paying? Me. I AM A SUCKER. Another example, that has nothing to do with money cause I am sounding really cheap right now... I was nice. I was sweet. Not mean. When that feeling isn't being reciprocated back, that has to tell you something. When your handing out flowers and they are dishing out punches, that has to make you wonder. What the hell is this? You shouldn't have to ask them to be sweet. Shouldn't that just be there.

Here is the curve ball. She came to my softball game and cheered. She texted me and said that we should hang out. But when ever I got close, or there was physical contact, an odd feeling shot into the room. The feeling was almost like a shot from the doctor. Ugh. Even thinking about that shot makes me shiver. She was rude to me as well. The jokes weren't even cute or flirtatious. Just rude. They got annoying. There wasn't chill and all is good vibe. It wasn't easy to be there. I felt like I had worn out my welcome, yet she had invited me. It was awful.

I am too nice and sincere. I really want to know the person for who they are and them me, in the matter of minutes. I want there to be trust, but I am only fooling myself. Completely fooling myself. I put myself out there way too much. I tend to do that, but I never learn my lesson. I don't know when I'll figure it out, but hopefully sooner than later. At the same time, this type of "give it your all son" attitude has helped me eliminate the girls that aren't worth my time. I am trying too hard. Some guys just have it-- the mojo. As well as the intuition to know which girl will be worth their time. I have neither. I hope someone makes a rule book I can follow so I can nail this down once and for all.