Monday, November 29, 2010

Good Samaritan, Bad Samaritan

You know those moments when the very best in you comes out and you think to yourself "why can't I be that great all the time?" you know those moments? This was't one of them.

My friend, who we'll call Maude, called to ask me for a favor. She'd locked her keys in her car at her work in Orem. She wondered if I could take her husband, who had the other key, to get the car after his class. I said yes.

On my way, I noticed my gas tank was a little low so I decided to be on the safe side and fill 'er up. That's exactly where things went wrong. I parked at a gas station right beside campus and gently hummed to myself as I got out of the vehicle (I tend to do that). Just as I was about to shut the door, my phone began screaming at me. In the shuffle to get out my phone and answer it, I dropped my keys in the door of the car I was shutting - locked. As I heard the slam of the door and my eyes drifted to the locked locks, my eyes widened and the tune I was humming stopped abruptly. My greeting to the caller was not the cheeriest.

Turns out the Provo police won't unlock your car, and BYU police will only unlock your car if it's on campus. Sadly, I missed that mark by 20 feet.

Of course, the irony of the situation didn't fully hit until I explained to the locksmith that I'd locked the keys in my car while taking a friend to get their keys out of their car. He laughed, my friends laughed, I laughed. You have to admit, it was funny.

Goal for next time: try not to be a bad samaritan. Also, next time I lock my keys in my car I will be doing it on campus.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Planning for the Future

Okay, I realize that some of this might be based on conjecture, but in case I'm right I'd like to be ahead of the game.

I figure that all of those times in the bible and the other standard works when it refers to "mansions in heaven", that they're actually being serious. Even if they aren't necessarily Pemberley or Schloss Neuschwanstein Castle, I get the feeling that we won't need to worry about housing. Having said that, neighbors are another thing.

Everybody who makes it is going to be pretty darn cool, but there are some people that I've met in life that I would like have on my block. My friend Jesslyn and I have formed a group called the "Celestial Cul-de-Sac", and we are currently taking applications. At our last official meeting we decided that Abraham had what we were looking for, so we had to deny Moses. In another landmark decision, J. Golden Kimball's spot was given away in favor of our dear friend Ben. Feelings may have been hurt.

For those rejected applicants whose awesomeness is sufficiently awesome, we afford them the option of sharing a back fence with one of us, or digging a tunnel to connect our basements. After all, sharing is caring. The picture is an artist's rendering of our potential development. We'll probably have to run it by somebody first though...

In any case, spots are filling up (mine is the one at the top with the nice pool).

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Maybe. Maybe Not.

Dear Reader,

Do you ever have one of those days where you can't speak english...or any other language? Yeah, me too.

There just happens to be a girl at one of my jobs that I like (attraction level: 10/10). We'll call her Beyonce. However, there just also happens to be a disease called can't-say-what-you-want-to-when-you-want-to-itis. I have it real bad. And I think it might be terminal.

First of all, let me just say that I believe I'm funny and well-read; if any of you want to dispute that I will fight you. However, every time my secret lover/coworker goes to leave for the day I try to say something funny and all that comes out is something that sounds like finnish (she doesn't speak finnish)(neither do I). She then gives me a laugh that shows she doesn't understand a word I said, and I slowly turn around and rest/bang my head on the keyboard.

Just before writing this blog I said something as she left that sounded more like Danish (slightly closer to English...), but based on her laugh, I'm assuming she doesn't speak danish either. Somedays I'm awesome, I just have this disease where I'm never awesome around her. If this were real paper this would be the part that was wrinkled by bitter tears.