Been tagged...

Well I guess I am it as far as the blog tag game goes and I have to write six unique things about me eh....? Well here goes...

1) Other than my mission and two study abroads, I have only lived at three addresses in my life (sad I know....)

2) In high school I dropped out of running for Student Body President the day before the first primary election (we had two because the choir was going to be gone during the main primary).

3) All of my immediate family has J names...I guess my name is only appropriate.

4) I used to completely clam up in interviews and other formal settings, even when it was just practicing.

5) At BYU I actually worked with tobacco plants that were growing on campus.....shhhhh!!!

6) I used to be in a steel drum ensemble.

Now as far as tagging people....let's say Holli, Cherie, and Ben....you're it!

Swiss Chris Volume 3

It was December....a cold...snowy....Saturday morning, in December. I was just leaving the apartment to hit the gym, and Chris said he wanted to come along. Fine, okay. We arrived at the gym and I checked in and Chris, who wasn't a member started sweet talking the girl behind the counter. I'm not sure why women would react to him, to be honest I think his accent caught their attention. I left them and began my work out, only to run into Chris again when I was done.

"We should hit the tanning beds," Chris suggested.

"Errr....no. It is December, you aren't supposed to be tan in December. Plus I am not someone that wants to pay to lay against lights, sorry. Plus, look at your complexion, you are about as white as they come man, it would NOT be a good idea for you to go tanning."

He tried to argue, but he couldn't say much, he didn't own a car and I was leaving, so if he didn't come then, it was going to be a miserable cold walk home.

Throughout the fall I had been telling stories about Swiss Chris and my co-workers were dieing to meet him. I finally arranged a night for them to come over to "have dinner" but really it was just a pretense for them to run into him and see just how much he would hit on them. The night arrived....however, Swiss Chris was in his room, and not coming out. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened. It also turns out that only one of my co-workers showed up, the other being detained somewhere.

About 9:30 that night I was in my room doing something on my computer and there was a knock at the door. I hear Chris get up and answer the door, and then the door shuts as I hear him going back to his room and stating, "The door is for you." As I open my door, I think I see him shoot past and wearing little if anything, which make me wonder just how he answered the door....

I open the door and find my other co-worker. She is a bit confused at why the door had been shut on her, but I let her in and we talk for a bit. After about 15 minutes, Chris can't hold out any longer, and comes out dressed in his matching set of pajamas. And then we see saw him...except there was something a bit different....he was the exact color of a beet--it practically hurt us just to look at him, and partially hurt not to laugh.

Turns out Chris decided I didn't know what I was talking about and went to the tanning bed and stayed in for 15 minutes. He later said it hurt him to even wear clothes...I guess that explains why he didn't invite the coworker in....

Horseshoes

So every year my family has a reunion near Navajo Lake in Cedar Canyon, Utah. Now, some of you may have read about Aunt Joy, she is from another side of the family, so this story does not include her. Now, ever year there are several things that are done at this reunion: the hike, the service project, spiritual night, the talent show, and the hotly contested Horshoe Tournament.

Now you may say to yourself...'hotly contested? horseshoes?....right...' Well you haven't met my family. We are pretty competitive and talk pretty big about our amazing skills, and if we don't actually prove them, then we put the blame on something that was clearly not our fault. Now enter in a competition that has gone on at least since I was born. The competition is literally huge. Every year the partnership that wins the tournament gets their names enterred in on a plaque to be remembered for all time--and when I say all time, we even joke that our deceased ancestors are watching the tournament and perhaps participating in their own tournament at the horseshoe pit up in the sky. Yeah...it's a little over the top. To give you just a little bit of an idea of the contention surrounding this tournament, one year one member of the partnership had to leave the reunion early, and was replaced by, arguably, a better player. Well, that team ended up winning and three names were enterred on the plaque--it is still contested as to whether this was actually fair for all three names to be on the plaque or not; it has been over ten years and it is still argued.

So, it is a certain right of passage that when you turn 12, you are finally allowed to enter the horseshoe tournament, and you guessed it, it was the summer after my 12th birthday. To really understand this story though, you might need a quick lesson in how horseshoes is played. It is played by having two partnerships with one member of each partnership standing at alternate pegs which are spaced roughly 50 feet away from each other. The goal is to throw the horseshoe so that it encircles the peg, known as a "ringer," which is worth three points. Alternatively, if you are within a horseshoe's distance of the peg, you get one point (hence why being close only counts in horseshoes and handgrenades). Each side takes turns with the team that scored the last point to go first. One player from the first team throws two horseshoes, and then a player from the other team throws his two shoes towards the same peg, if no one gets a ringer, than the person that is closest peg gets the point (if they are close enough for a point). Additionally, if team #1 throws a ringer, and then team #2 throws a ringer, it is considered a "capped ringer" and no one gets any points from those shoes (although the other shoes are still in play).

Now, clearly it is only fair that the teams are chosen at random, thus all eligible players are put into a hat and then drawn out to form teams. I wasn't really that excited to be in the horseshoe tournament...but enterred it nonetheless, hoping to have a partner that might just make up for my lack of skill. As luck would have it, my cousin and I ended up being teammates....which shocked everyone since we were both 12 (which was surprising considering there were maybe three twelve year olds playing that year out of probably 35 other players). Needless to say, everyone thought this was going to be quite the team.

Naturally, everyone in the family watches the final match, however, earlier matches are usually only watched by immediate family members and people that have not been able to find something else to do. However, my match was directly before dinner, and suddenly the whole camp was there to watch the twelve year olds play. Needless to say this is not how I imagined nor hoped how things would go.

So the match began. While I was not doing very well, I was somehow making it through (although not receiving any points). It was the other side's time to throw and the other team threw a ringer (which would have finished the game). At this point, I was all for ending the pain and getting on with dinner. However, to the shock of everyone, my cousin capped the ringer (the only ringer our partnership threw the entire game), and the game continued, as well as my cousin earning us a point with his other shoe.

It was my first throw of the round. The horseshoe thrown towards the opposite peg landing about halfway there and then rolling across the ground to stop about five feet from the opposite peg. It was my second throw, I knew my last throw didn't go so well, I'd have to get more height on this throw. I threw the shoe up....up....I looked for it near the other peg...why couldn't I see it? Suddenly, falling through the air, the horsehoe landed...hitting the ground just three feet in front of me, much to the delight of the entire extended family. It may not surprise you to know that my name isn't on the plaque.

Swiss Chris Part 2

It was a crisp October afternoon when Swiss Chris burst through the apartment door, "I met a girl from Switzerland today!" He was so excited to finally meet someone from his home country even though he was thousands of miles from there. Well, we all naturally thought, he's Swiss, she's Swiss, it must be a match made in heaven.

"So did you ask her out?"

"Of course! We are going Friday night," Chris replied.

The days seemed to drag awaiting the big night, Swiss Chris couldn't stop talking about it, but finally Friday arrived. After emptying half a bottle of cologne, Chris was off to the rental agency to pick up his car (since he didn't own one himself). I'm sure they smelled him coming from three blocks.

Although not always a big fan of hearing Swiss Chris's lectures/stories, I was somewhat curious to hear how this big date went. However, by the time 1am arrived, I gave up, and figured I would hear about it for weeks afterwards.

I woke up late on Saturday and decided to run a bit of errands. I was in and out of the house, but each time I passed Chris's room, his door remained shut. Finally, at 6PM that night, the door opened.

"Are you just getting up?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty late night, I didn't even get home until 2:30AM."

"230?! Wow that must have been some date eh?"

"No, it was BAD date!"

"A bad date?" I questioned, "But I thought you had never been on a bad date before." I said with a slight bit of mockery. "So, do tell, if it was such a bad date, what were you doing until 230AM this morning, just making out?"

"Well....."

"You are kidding me!! You were having a bad date and then you just made out with her all night?!"

"Well we weren't really talking much, and it was the only way we could communicate " Swiss Chris explained.

"Couldn't you at least talk about both being from Switzerland? Or people that you knew in common? You must have had SOME things in common."

"Let me start from the beginning. You see, we went out to dinner, and that wasn't going so well." Swiss Chris continued, "So we get back in the car, and she suggests we go to the cemetery. I thought was stranged, but ... okay, so we drove over to the cemetery. So ... we were just sitting there, and we were not really saying much, so we just started making out."

"Wait...hold on, you are telling me that you drove to a cemetery and made out all night? Are you serious?!?! Please tell me you are kidding."

At this point another roommate who had been listening walked up and said, "So what was the problem, you two didn't speak the same language?"

Swiss Chris Part 1

It was the beginning of the fall, our current roommate was getting married, and as such was moving out into a new place, and thus it was left to us to find someone new that we wanted to live with. Unfortunately, there was not much time before the fall semester would start, and thus the prime time to find someone was drawing to a close.

Several people came and looked at the place....but each time no match was made. Until finally, we met Chris. Chris seemed like a normal enough guy, and so we agreed, as roommates, that he could join our apartment. However, things aren't always as they appear.

Chris was from Swizterland, and try as we might, we could not help but dub him Swiss Chris.

Swiss Chris, was an interesting guy, that none of us quite knew how to deal with. Even other people in the complex would comment on some of his oddities, such as jump roping inside the apartment while he blasted techno music (which he once explained to a group of us how it was truly the music of life).

One particular Friday evening I was going to the store, and offered to give Swiss Chris a ride, since he did not have a car. I grabbed the items I needed, and patiently waited as he finished his shopping. When we got back to my truck, he said to me, hey could we go to Reams to get produce? I like their produce better.

What?! Are you serious? To truly understand the shock of this statement, you have to understand the Reams store and the building itself. Reams was somewhat of a grocery store that also had a small section of clothing, that generally was associated with cowboys (think Wranglers, boots, and large buckles). However, far worse was the building that Reams was located in. The building was originally made by piling up a huge pile of dirt and then pouring a cement frame to form the ceiling around the mound. Afterwards, the dirt was pulled out, and voila you have a building. Before Reams moved in, the building had been used as a roller skating rink. The building was in deep disrepair, however. The ceiling itself was its own biosphere of life, teaming with all sorts of mold, mildew, and other less than appealing spots. In the hierarchy of grocery stores in peoples' minds, Reams was definitely the delipidated trailer park that people would only go in to play games, but to never actually make purchases.

Swiss Chris was determined, however, he wanted produce from Reams, and so to Reams I took him, and waited in the car.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, carrying his prized produce. He got back into the truck, and said, "Man, this is lame....we should be out on dates right now."

"True, but it could be worse, we could be on a bad date," I responded.

"Bad date?"

"Yeah, you know, a bad date, things aren't going so well."

"No..."

"Like you don't have anything in common, or you just don't communicate well."

"No, I've never had a bad date."

I was shocked....yet somehow, with how he acted, I also wasn't shocked.

Riding home, we were stopped at a traffic where a lady pulled up next to us. Swiss Chris looked over and mouthed, "You're very beautiful." She blushed, laughed, and mouthed in reply, "Thanks." Perhaps I need to take tips from the foreign Cassanova....

To be continued...

Attack of the Ladybugs

Sometimes it's fun to be part of the day club. While you aren't making any money, you can go and do whatever you like, no one has control over you and there is no requirement that you have to be somewhere at a given time. Such was the case when two of my friends and myself decided to go hiking in the Sugarloaf Mountain area.

It was a beautiful fall day. The leaves were just starting to change colors, yet the day was still warm. We parked the car at the base of the mountain and began our hike. Unfortunately, mountains on the east coast are about as tall as a two story house, and thus, we were to the top of said, "mountain" five minutes after beginning the hike. However, there were several trails weaving in and out of each other across the forest, we chose one and were off.

After wandering around for about an hour, we came to an overlook where we could see the valley beneath us. What a scene it was! Partly because of the beauty, and partly because of our growling stomachs, we decided to eat the lunches that we had brought along. We sat down on top of an outcropping of white rocks, looking out at the beauty around us. It was then that we noticed a large swarm of bugs flying just past where we were sitting. At first, we were a bit confused as to what they were...but before long, we were actually covered in ladybugs. My friend was sitting there minding her own business, eating her lunch and then all of sudden we could count over one hundred lady bugs crawling up and down her clothes. I had never seen so many ladybugs in one place.

Soon, I too was covered in ladybugs, crawling here and there. It was about that time that my phone rang. Some friends were coming over for dinner that night and they were calling to confirm the time. Apparently, the ladybugs didn't like my moving around or talking on the phone because about halfway through the conversation I felt a sharp pain on my neck...

"Ow! A ladybug just bit me!!"

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, and then, "I think that's the woosiest thing I have ever heard."

Ladybugs: 1
Me: 0

The Landlord

Washington DC is notorious for having hot and humid summers, and this particular summer was no different. In fact, it was the summer that broke all records... it was also the summer that my downstairs neighbor's air conditioning broke.

I was living in a two story house that had been subdivided into three apartments. I lived on the top floor, two girls on the main floor, and a young man in the basement. The house was quite old, and the landlord was using it purely as a cash cow, using as little money as possible to fix up problems so the place was at least habitable. So when the air conditioning went out, we figured it could be weeks before it would be replaced...and sure enough, the time began to drag on...and no air conditioning was installed.

This wasn't the only problem at the time, however. At the same time paint was peeling off the walls in several places in our apartment, the ceiling was falling apart in the main floor apartment, and the landscaping that had previously been redone earlier that spring looked very similar to a garden plot done by second graders, except this time without adult supervision. Needless to say, things weren't exactly going as one might hope.

I finally had it. I sent a scathing email letting the landlord know that we, as tenants, were unhappy with the amount of time and money that he was putting into the place. I hit the send button...it was off. Three hours later my cell phone went off, and sure enough it was the landlord. I was in no disposition to talk to him at the time, and I promptly sent him to my voice mail.

"Hello, Jay...we have a problem, and I need you to call me as soon as possible."

Oh great. He got my email and now he is angry. This isn't going to be pleasant.

Well I finished off the day, and made the call as I was driving home from work.

"Hi, this is Jay, you asked me to call?"

"Jay, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I replied, "and you?"

"Oh, I'm not so good. I twisted my ankle and I've been laid up all day." It was only at this moment that I realized that he had not received my email and was calling for an entirely different reason. "Jay, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Well....see....I bought a new window unit air conditioner for the main floor apartment and I left it in their apartment. I was wondering if you could just grab it and take it up to your apartment for the time being?"

"Why?"

"Well...uh....you see....the guy I hired to put that in, he has kind of left the area suddenly, and I'm afraid that he might go and grab that unit and take it with him to sell it."

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"Well....uh...he...well, he just got out of prison after being in there for 10 years on larceny charges."

"Let me get this straight, you hired an ex-con to come in to our house?!"

"Well, he was cheap...," he said as if this made it okay.

"And have you told the girl's about this?"

"Well...no...."

"I'll call you back."

So I immediately called one of the main floor tenants. After explaining the situation to her, she asked, "Why didn't he call me first?? Is his air conditioner that much more important than my safety and life?!!" It was par for the course for the landlord. After collecting her thoughts, she finally asked, "So...does Frank still have a key to our apartment then?" I immediately called back the landlord.

"Does Frank still have a key to the girl's apartment?"

"Well.....yes...."

"You need to change those locks. Immediately. You have twenty-four hours to do so."

"I guess you are right," he replied.

Sure enough, that night upon arriving home, the air conditioner was gone. We looked all over the apartment with no success. Frank had run off with the air conditioner.

Several months passed without us bringing up the situation. However, it wasn't long until again the landlord was doing things as cheap as possible with the results turning out accordingly. Again, we sent emails complaining about his service record and particularly reminding him about the fiasco with Frank, how Frank had stolen the air conditioner.

"Well about Frank," his email replied, "he actually didn't steal the air conditioner given the fact that I had not yet paid him for it..."

Nothing like a landlord that asks you to help him steal something for him.