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Tag Archives: music

Couldn’t Find My GPS With Both Hands

" Avoid rush hour traffic, jagoff. Take the freeway."
"And add ten miles to the trip? Fuggetaboudit."

I have a good friend who moved away from Missoula a couple of years ago. Like someone who screwed up a great relationship, he’s been trying to move back here ever since. He's currently living somewhere Back East. (For you grade school kids reading this, shame on you! Also, there are four basic areas to the U.S.: Back East, Out West, Up North, and Down South. Stay in school! Don’t do drugs!) My bud came back for a visit recently, and rented a car. The rental sported a GPS, which for some reason featured the voice of Joe Pesci.

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YMCA Pt. 2: The Locker Room

If you read my earlier post about exercising at the YMCA, you might have noticed that I left out any mention of the locker room. The locker room experience is a story unto itself, and here it is. First off, it’s kind of a given that the Y’s locker rooms aren’t going to be quite as up-to-date or as well-appointed as they are at Gold’s Gym or some other trendy “check out my pilates outfit!” joints. Members of the Y tend to be haggard parents with a minivan full of kids tagging along. Consequently, the “family” men’s locker room looks like it was airlifted directly from some junior high school, complete with the loud, obnoxious junior high boys. Snapping towels, wet floors, banging lockers, tighty whiteys sailing through the air—it really takes you back to the days of the atomic wedgie and “dude, got any hair yet?”

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I Need To Find Myself, Man

I was home alone yesterday, house to myself, no errands to run, no visitors expected. So I did what a lot of people do in that situation: put some soft jazz on the stereo, turned the lights down, lit a couple of candles and poured a glass of wine. Then I googled myself.

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Are You Ready For Some Footbawl?

The picture's crap, but you should hear the Surround Sound!

Barb has taken our young daughter, Speaker, to ballet class. That leaves ten-year-old Rusty and me to do some father and son bonding over Monday Night Football. How perfectly American. How utterly gender-correct. After we don our sweat pants and most absorbent t-shirts, I start the education process. “This is the pre-game show, son. Bunch of washed up ath-uh-letes who retired but forgot to open a car dealership or chain of steak houses. They’ll be telling us what to look for in the game.”

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Gift Ideas for Musicians!

Now I just need that Rock'm Sock'm Drum Kit...

Most musicians are pretty easy to buy for. One generous gesture would be to pay off his or her hefty bar tab. Trust me—they’ve got one. Somewhere. Any guitar or bass player would appreciate an electric tuner. Of course they already have one, probably more, but they are always being misplaced, left at a gig, or used to level a bass drum. They’re about $20, and will be used a lot. What’s that? He plays punk rock? Never mind.

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What Makes You LOL?

"IWJAYV (I Was Just Admiring Your Vest)"
"TYISYTAWV" (Thank You I See You Too Are Wearing a Vest)"
Photo: Bob Wire. (Special thanks to vest models Ron Setzer and David Colledge. Photographed on location at Big Sky, Montana.)

The first time I saw someone use LOL in an email, I pictured his head dropping down, tongue hanging out, nodding off like a junkie. When I replied and told him to stay off the horse, he explained that it meant “laugh out loud.” Of course, everyone online knows that, right? In fact, it’s probably THE most overused texting abbreviation out there. Some people use it like punctuation, tagging it on the end of every sentence. Others play a little drum roll on the L and O keys, writing lolololololol, which makes absolutely no sense. I choose to go old skool when something makes me laugh out loud. I type: HA!

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See? Food! Table Manners of the Unrefined

It's official: at a picnic, no table manners are required.

Teaching table manners to elementary-age children can be a bit like teaching a pit bull to type. During a recent meal, after watching Rusty continually wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, I told him to pick up the napkin that lay next to his plate. He picked it up, and absent-mindedly wiped his mouth with the back of the hand that held the napkin. Well, it’s a start.

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Wanna Write for New West SLC?

Wanna write for New West? We’re looking for writers to help flesh out the Salt Lake City node. If you’re a resident of Salt Lake (or Park City, Ogden, Provo, St. George, or Tooele) and want to contribute stories on current events, politics, arts and entertainment, or simply mouth off about what is going on around you, hey—do it for us.

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Where Food Comes From

"Are these raspberries fake? They taste nothing like a Jolly Rancher!"

On a recent trip to Six Flags Over Albertson's to buy groceries, the kids and I wheeled our cart into the produce section to get some healthy stuff. As we approach the fruit, there’s the sound of thunder, and the misters come on, dousing all the green veggies. This is amazing to the kids, who run over and put their hands in the spray. “Pretty cool, huh?” I say. “When we get to the milk case, you hear cows mooing.” “Coooooool!” they say in unison. “And when you get to the eggs, you hear chickens clucking,” I continue. “But I’m kind of afraid to go down the toilet paper aisle.” (Here is a photo of fresh pork chops. Some assembly required.)

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How Clean is Clean?

Fecal bacteria, your days are numbered!

Here’s an example of Clean Enough For A Guy: I hosted a pretty decadent poker game last weekend (martinis, shrimp, crab cakes—thanks, Barb!), and I cleaned up the guest room beforehand. I knew I wouldn’t be the only guy to swill gin ‘til English became his second language, and a couple of the boys would probably crash here. They did. Crashed into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. One of them, I’ll call him David, insisted on sleeping on the floor. “You can’t fall off the ground!” he kept repeating. Because it would be dudes occupying the guest room, I performed the minimum level of cleaning. This involved removing all guitar cases and cardboard boxes from the bed, stocking the mini-bar with water, and short-sheeting the mattress. That’s plenty clean enough for my male friends, most of whom are content to sleep anywhere roughly horizontal.

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