Camera Catastrophe!

Today was Bonneville Lagoon Day. It was actually a pretty good day to be at Lagoon. The lines were short, the burgers were tasty, and Luke even dared go on a few rides this time around. But oh how I wish he didn't ride the bumper cars.

Once on the bumper cars Luke quickly became pinned against the curb. Being the bonehead that I am, I was trying to both film him and show him how to get unstuck at the same time. While mimicking the action of turning a steering wheel, my hand caught the camera strap and the camera fumbled out of my grasp. It took a football bounce on the pavement and landed right next to Luke's car!

The next few minutes were spent on pins and needles, with Jana and I praying Timmy 2-year old wouldn't ram Luke, crushing our $200 camera. If it weren't my camera, I would find it quite humorous actually, as there were some VERY close calls. I wish someone was filming me filming so you could see (and so we could win $10,000), but you'll just have to settle for this exclusive and not-as-funny-but-still-humorous footage.


Unfortunately, even though Timmy didn't ram it, the camera still was quite damaged from the initial fall. After performing surgery on it just moments ago, I think it's salvaged and will limp on to see another day.

The 4 hour commute

My experience with yesterday's commute was interesting enough that I feel compelled to document it.

I arrived to work early around 6:30 a.m. for special broadcasts we were doing for the American Idol tryouts. Because I got to work so early, I had plans to leave early as well... Little did I know.

4:00 and almost out the door I got a voicemail from Jacob. "Ikee Wikee," (that's what he calls me) "Have you heard? There was a big accident and you're not gonna be able to get home." Having recently moved from Davis County to West Jordan, his voice sounded almost as if he were taking happiness in my misfortune.

I checked KSL.com and sure enough, Jacob was right. After debating what to do, I narrowed it down to 2 choices. I could stay and work late, or I could kill time by seeing a movie. I took the more compelling and irresistible option. I was off to see The Dark Knight.

For 3 hours I forgot all my troubles and focused solely on the troubles of Gotham City. And I thought I had it bad!

The movie got out a little after 7. I jumped in my car hoping for the best. I attempted to get on I-15, but it was a NO GO. The freeway entrance was blocked by Highway Patrol, and they weren't letting any more cars on (at least on the 400 South entrance). Not willing to give up easily, and perhaps inspired by all the recent Pioneer celebrations, I persevered. I put my shoulder to the wheel and cruised down to Redwood Road, the radio glued to KSL (where Utah turns for breaking news, traffic and weather information).

"This just in from a texter," Alex Kirry said. "Because of a hit and run accident, it'll take almost 2 hours to get from Salt Lake to Bountiful on Redwood Road."

With the disappointing news I flipped a U turn and headed back to my work's parking lot. And then - the epiphany (or for you Oprah lovers out there - the ah ha moment). FRONTRUNNER! Why hadn't I thought of this before? I made a brisk walk to the Frontrunner station, and arrived just in time to catch the train. Within 15 minutes I was at the Woods Cross station, where I had a chauffeur waiting for me.

This morning's return to work wasn't so lucky. Jana being at work with the car, I made the one mile trek to Frontrunner (no, I didn't dress up like a pioneer). Not knowing the schedule, of course I missed the train by just a few minutes. So I waited 25 more for the next train. Including the walk, the wait, the train ride, the switch to trax, and the final ascent to my office, it was a 66 minute commute (normally a 12 minute commute by car).

So now my reviews...

The Dark Night
5 stars
Go see this movie immediately.

Frontrunner
3 1/2 stars
Nice to have, but only use when not in any hurry or absolutely necessary.

Rashed's Neighborhood

What seems like an eternity ago (probably only 5 years), I was a miserable U of U student. Being the "commuter school" that it is, and me being a commuter myself, I had made absolutely no friends. I didn't join a fraternity. I rarely attended institute; and quite often I would eat lunch all by myself. I know, I know... cry my a river, right?

Well, one day all that changed. After finally settling into my major, faces starting to look familiar. I finally learned a few people's names. Before I knew it, I was a communications major that actually communicated with others. I had come out of my shell, and made some good friends.

The true turning point, and my favorite class of all time, was "Silly Movie Making Class." I actually think it might have been called "Intro to TV Journalism," but I'm not sure, and if it is in fact called that, the name is badly misleading.

After weeks of learning about spot lighting and how to white balance the camera (I swear we spent hours and hours on this - don't most cameras white balance themselves now a days?), it was finally time to shoot some real material.

I was lucky enough to fall into a group of fun-loving people who shared my sick sense of humor. Together, we came up with "Rashed's Neighborhood."

Have you ever imagined what Mr. Roger's neighborhood might be like if it was plucked from Uncle Sam's cold hands and made in Kuwait? I know I spent many late nights pondering this thought. Luckily, we have to ponder no more.

So without further ado, I give you Rashed's Neighborhood (complete with deleted scenes included!).



In case you're wondering, I think our teacher (flaming gay, I might add) gave us an A-.

How COOL is this?

Richter7, a Salt Lake City-based advertising and public relations agency, has mandated a "No Long Pants" policy from July 15 to Aug. 15, 2008, in an effort to keep cool and combat the effects of global warming.

For the four-week period, all employees, from the top brass down to the newest employee, will be encouraged to wear shorts, capris, skorts, kilts — anything but long pants — to work until the oppressive heat lets up, even in professional meetings with clients. Those found wearing long pants will face the "knickerbocker police," who will fine offenders a quarter.

"We see this as a fun way to beat the heat," said Dave Newbold, Richter7 president. "I don't know of any other company that has actually insisted that all employees not wear long pants to cool down, but it's in keeping with our motto to disrupt the status quo."

July 2007 was Utah's hottest month on record, and August 2007 was 0.1 degree away from matching the hottest August on record. The forecast through August 2008 doesn't seem to be cooling down any either, making staying cool a necessity.

In addition, the 40-person agency will buy each employee a pair of shorts of their choice and will also provide frozen treats for all employees every time the temperature tops 100 degrees.

"This is a huge morale boost for everybody," said Tim Brown, Richter7 partner in charge of morale boosting. "With everyone cooler, creativity seems to be at an all-time high. Admittedly, the men in the office are reluctant because most are shy about displaying their untanned legs, but the women are huge fans."

Having dominated the creative advertising scene for decades, Richter7 is known for its environment of creativity.

"This is what I love about Richter7," said Teri Gibson, account supervisor. "We have crazy surprises constantly, such as live rock band lunches, parties at movie premieres and now a mandated no-pants policy. The entire culture here centers on generating creative solutions for our clients."

Established in 1971, Richter7 has been named Utah's "Best of State" advertising agency for the past six years and is consistently recognized for effective advertising, public relations, Web marketing and design for local, regional and national clients.

Cherry Hill Pukefest

Friday night we joined the fam for a "stay-cation" (Esther's words - not mine) at Cherry Hill. Jana and I had gone to great lengths to ensure our comfort - by "great lengths" I mean borrowing Jana's dad's tent, air mattress and sleeping bags (I guess we don't enjoy camping enough to spend our money on camping gear).

For dinner we had fried chikin, fruit, potato salad, you know - all the yummy-yum-yum yummies that make a camping trip SOO fun! We made the mistake of letting Luke sit at the "kid's" table. Normally this would be fine; but when you leave the cheetos and cookies out - you're just asking for trouble. After one of the best free lip-sync concerts I've ever been to in my entire life, Nancy Curtis - Hell-OH! it was time to hit the hay. Luke was begging to go to sleep, so we put him down and stayed up playing the dumbest yet most popular campfire game of all time - Phase 10.

We rolled into bed around midnight. Max was restless and rolling around so Jana couldn't fall asleep. Then - at approximately 2 a.m. - it happened... Luke threw up all over the place. It was all over his sleeping bag, his pillow, the blanket underneath him. Yuck. It was the vilest-smelling puke in the history of pukefests.

We cleaned up what we could. We threw all the soiled stuff outside the tent. We contemplated just going home. Jana put Luke on the air matress in her sleeping bag. Since there was no longer room for me on the air matress, and the only place left to sleep in the tent was where the incident took place (and it still reeked like a SOB) I took my sleeping bag to an extra empty tent we had set up the day before by accident.

I didn't sleep great on the hard ground, but I was ok. Jana, on the other hand, was not. The only thing she could find to use as a blanket was a wet towel. And Jana, being the sometimes-too-nice (if that's possible) person that she is, didn't make a peep until morning.

The sun rose early and I got up to check on her, only to find out she'd been awake shivering almost the entire night! And now she has a cold. Jana - I'm so sorry! You are the best mom! Next time this happens (it will happen again - trust me), speak up! I'll be happy to shiver for you!


(one of my all-time favorite clips)

Recovering the Satellites Day

October 16, 1996 (thank you wikipedia)

It had been a long 3 years since August & Everything After had been released. Me, my brothers & sister, and all my friends had pretty much worn out our CDs from overplaying them. It's funny - I remember Abe, Esther and I all had our own copies of August - and we all lived in the same house! (this was back before the days of CD burners and mp3s).

Nate, Jason & I were unwilling to wait even one extra minute to get our hands (or should I say ears?) on the sophomore effort from Adam Duritz & the gang. I'm sure we would have ditched 1st period had there been a music store open earlier than 10 a.m. But we had early lunch, and I was a level-headed chicken, so lunch it would have to be. Class got out and we all rushed to Nate's Pontiac "Damn Grande" (as we sometimes liked to call it). This was the perfect getaway car for the occasion, as it had what we at the time thought was a killer sound system.

We sped off to TomTom music store in Bountiful. There it stood, glistening on the top of the new release shelf, a beacon to the music world. Never before or since have I more eagerly awaited the release of new music. I think we got halfway through "Goodnight Elizabeth" before it was time to go back to class. It was pure music bliss.

So when Abe gave me a copy of the newest effort from Counting Crows yesterday, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings, it was anything but climactic. The album has been out for months. I even have most of it on my computer, but I've been too lazy to put it on my ipod so I'll actually listen to it. On the ride home, I popped it in. Saturday Nights was too hard on my old ears, so I quickly jumped ahead to the Sunday Mornings songs. I felt annoyed at how I didn't yet know the melodies, and how I couldn't sing along with the chorus.

My worst fears have come true - my music tastes have turned into those of an old man. My desire to discover new music has withered and all but died. So please - a moment of silence while we shed a tear while listening to "A Long December."

Bachelorette Recap

OMG(osh) you guys, did u watch last night? can u believe D picked jesse? i almost peed my pants i couldn't believe it! oh, BTW jason is soo the next bachelor!

How can you women watch this garbage? I have always hated The Bachelor. Thankfully, when we got DVR a few years back, Jana could tape it and watch it the next day when I was at work. But never the finales. These have to be watched live. They're like major sporting events..."The rest of the world can't find out before me! Unfair!"

The thing that bugs me the most about The Bachelor is the "honeymoon suite." For those who are lucky enough to say they haven't seen the show and don't know what the "honeymoon suite" is, let me explain. When there are 3 people left they each get to spend a day with the bachelor and then the bachelor/bachelorette chooses whether to invite each of them back to the "honeymoon suite" for the night. The invitation is ALWAYS extended, and it's always accepted. What goes on in the honeymoon suite is anyone's guess. I think they play card games and watch chick flicks, but I could be wrong.

It's so funny to watch this show where one person proposes marriage to another, when a)They've only known each other only a few short weeks (and even then they share time with a bunch of other people), and b)they know the person they're proposing to was making whoopee just a few short days before with another person. What gives? No wonder these couples never stay together!

Yuck. Never again will I fall into this trap. I'm starting planning now for a guys night out next season finale. If your wife watches this garbage, let me know and we'll go see Diehard 5 together.

Turn the music off!

This is a plea to all the "Mormon Mom Blogs" out there to please turn your blog music off! Yes you have great taste in music, and yes, I love hearing John Mayer, Leona Lewis or Colbie Caillet every time I check up on your family. But enough is enough. Sometimes it's late at night or I'm at my day job, and you see, I'm forgetful, and I'm starting to go deaf in my old age, and sometimes, just sometimes I leave my speakers turned up really loud only to be blasted by "Teardrops on my Guitar."

There has got to be a setting somewhere where people turn it on rather than off. Please find it and use it. Then we can press forward in faith and read each others drivel in peace.

My 10-year reunion

Next weekend is my 10-year reunion. I will not be attending.

To advertise the reunion, my class has its own blog where fellow graduates are encouraged to send in updates about their lives and families. I took this opportunity to say what all those of us who choose not to attend are thinking.

The reason I've waited to tell you, my faithful blog readers about this hair brained and irrational post, is because I promised if 25 people left comments, I would change my mind and attend. I knew that you - those who profess to love me and be my friends- would turn against me filling the comment boards - ensuring my doom and sealing my fate to attend a reunion I had little desire to attend.

But alas, the deadline has passed. It was a close call, but the comment board did not reach 25. So now comes the time I share with you, my faithful readers, my post to the Viewmont Class of 98 blog...

Dear fellow Vikings,

I am still undecided about attending the reunion, but I'm leaning toward going to see Hellboy II: The Golden Army instead. For a few reasons, actually. Here they are in no particular order.

First – I have probably forgotten your name. Yes, we had 3 classes together including lifetime activities and physics. That doesn't matter. I have a horrible memory. That's why when I saw you at Dick's Market a few weeks ago I quickly ducked into the other isle so I wouldn't have to embarrass myself by acknowledging your existence.

Second – the whole "reunion" thing just sounds awkward. I really hate big mingle parties. I can handle small parties with a few people, but when the party gets bigger than say, 12 people, I want to turn into a wallflower and hide. I've never really figured out why. Besides, it doesn't help that about a year into my mission, out of boredom and desperation to receive more letters, I wrote to every single girl I had a crush on in high school. Yes some of you were already married, but I had been in Portugal for a year and for some reason it felt like I'd never come home to face the reality of what I was doing. Well, I'm home now and not really too excited about seeing you ladies face to face. (NOTE: If you got one of these letters, don't be too flattered – I sent out a LOT of them. I had a lot of high school crushes).

Third – I wasn't popular in high school. There might be 1-3 people who attend the reunion, who while leaving think "Man, I wish Ike Yospe would have showed up. I miss that guy." I have kept in contact with most of my good high school buddies. We have our own reunions. And we don't wait 10 years to have them. If, however, 25 people post comments on this entry, I will gladly admit to being wrong and will happily attend the reunion.

(to read the rest of the post and all the comments, click here).

Waterslide Mishap

All of the recent summer fun in the sun brought back a long lost memory...

Quite a few years ago I was at the waterslide park at the point of the mountain (out by the prison - can anyone remember the name of this water park? - it has since been torn down).

Anyway, I was cruising down one of the slides at top speed, having a great old time without a care in the world. I must have been having a great time because while standing in line I didn't manage to notice a ginormous chubby 11-year old kid with his t-shirt on (he was probably self-conscious about his rolls of baby fat that still hadn't disappeared after 11 years of life).

I couldn't see it at the time, but this kid was stuck on the slide, scooting himself down a few feet at a time... You can probably see where I'm going with this.

Well, I went around a blind turn and hit him at full speed. I kicked him right in his back. This wasn't no baby kick, either. I cannot recall a time in my life when I've collided with another individual at a higher velocity.

Luckily for me, his back fat cushioned my kick and my leg only hurt for a few minutes. He wasn't so lucky, however. The laws of physics were against him. He immediately burst into tears as we continued down the remainder of the slide together. His fat mother was waiting at the bottom. Her motherly instincts must have been in full gear, as she jumped in the pool and helped her wailing son out of the pool.

I apologized about 3 dozen times, rubbed my leg for a few minutes until it stopped hurting, and forgot all about it.

At least an hour-and-a-half later our paths crossed again. There, on a deck chair, the boy sat like a beached whale, still screaming his head off. His large mother was next to him, examining a giant foot-shaped bruise on his enormous back.

Let this be a lesson to all: If you are a parent of a fat child - I don't care how self-conscious they are, DON'T LET THEM GO DOWN WATERSLIDES WITH T-SHIRTS ON! And if you're a lifeguard at a waterslide park, please pay close attention when fat t'ed children go down your slides and space it out so grown men don't run into them at full speed.