The Life & Times of Harvey Ralph

Dross

2012-01-08T23:21:00.007-07:00

Well... hello.

It's that time of year again. Where we all decide who we are and who we're going to be. Am I still a blogger? Do I look like John Denver yet? What am I going to do with all those dead cats in my trunk?

Fortunately for me, my blog helps me in my quest to determine who I am by showing me how people arrived here. I've been gathering this real list of visitors, mainly because I find them humorous, but also because they say a lot about me.

For example:
Someone from Portsmouth, Ohio arrived on The Life & Times of Harvey Ralph by searching for "bacon arm."

A visitor from Torrance, California arrived by searching for "Velcro old people shoes."

Columbia, Missouri arrived by searching for "the creep guy"

Multiple kidney stone and pony tail entries.

But they're all countered nicely by someone from Poissy, Ile-de-France arriving here by searching for "Is harvey ralph a sir?"

Yes Mr. or Mrs. Poissy. I am. Thank you for asking.

I think my favorite was from Nedelisce, Medimurska (It's in Croatia, just outside of Cakovec, duh). This person arrived here by searching for "new years eve outfit what to wear with black jeans?"

Arriving here with a style question... You really don't know me, do you Nedelisce? No problem. I've got you covered. Gray shirt. That's what you should wear with black jeans on new year's eve. Gray shirt all the way. You're welcome.

As I kick off this new year of maybe blogging, I thought I'd start things off real proper with a good old fashioned self portrait. This was shot sometime in December following a dark period where I didn't leave my basement dwelling for ten days due to writing or co-writing approximately 60 pages of research papers. I had to invest in some wrist braces to fend off the carpal tunnel. For real. I wear them daily and sometimes sleep in them. <3 them to the max.

So, if you've made it this far, enjoy. Especially enjoy the socks in sandals with a hole in the toe. Suck on that Van Gogh.

15 Step

2011-10-02T22:51:00.005-06:00

Some of you may be aware of my recent attempt at growing out my hair. Folks who have known me for a number of seasons often grumble at this change... But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that most people grumble about most things. So, I don't let it get me down. Plus, I'm in grad school, I live in Seattle, what did you expect?

The hairstylist that is helping me in this endeavor told me that I need a "hair plan"... That seemed a little excessive. But she also instructed me to keep my eyes out for pictures of hair that I like. The other day I was messing about on the book of faces and came across this head-0-hair and knew it would one day be mine:

Recognize that man?

I didn't.

John Denver.

Ha ha. I envy John Denver's hair. Rocky mountain high fives all around.

I've got problems.

I hope the days find you well.

Thirty-Three

2011-08-24T22:00:00.010-06:00

Generally speaking I try to steer clear of shameless self promotion...

But self, prepare to be shamelessly promoted.

Last weekend something great happened. Billy Corgan, the lead singer of The Smashing Pumpkins, tweeted a link to my cover of his song Thirty-Three on YouTube.

I think it's amazing that he would do something like this. I'm very flattered. I've had about 1,000 new views since last Saturday. Pretty cool.

God bless you Billy.

Please feel free to fact check me on his Twitter here (scroll down until you see 8/20 entries).

The actual video can be found here.

I hope the days find you well.

Sincerely,

HR

Slow Dawn

2011-08-09T22:24:00.007-06:00

The other day someone landed on my blog after doing a Google search for “Best shoes for old people”. Ha ha. The answer to that question along with several other wisdom filled oldness gems can be found in previous posts here and here.

But this inquiry (along with my aching knees), reminded me of both my own oldness and my dire need to invest in some new running shoes. Seen below, these are the actual running shoes that I’ve been using for... oh, I don’t know, at least 2 years (don’t judge me Jen, I’m poor).

For a long time these shoes really did treat me right. Whether it was Liberty Park in Salt Lake City, or Green Lake Park in Seattle, these faithful boots have carried my weary frame for miles. But nowadays, if I run more than two miles my knees start to hurt and my feet go numb. For real numb. And yes, I do realize this could in fact be a product of a heart that doesn’t pump blood like it used to and deteriorating cartilage between joints that seek sleep, but blaming it on the old shoes means that I can solve the problem with some good old fashioned consumerism.

One more funny thing about these shoes... This last year I used to walk home from school all the time and would often pass through some marginally safe neighborhoods. Well, for like a week straight, I passed this spot where the same homeless man would be sleeping, and he was wearing these exact same shoes. I felt a connection with him. I wanted to take a picture, but I always thought maybe he was fake passed out and that he’d wake up and slit my throat and drink my blood like homeless people always do.

Anyway, I hope the days find you well.

HR

Cash Car Star

2011-07-17T20:39:00.009-06:00

I used to think that those who believed their possessions made them cooler, better, or of higher worth had a problem. If you're an unreasonable human, having a fancy car, a nice watch and/or diamond teeth doesn't make you cooler, better, or of higher worth... You're still a shiny-toothed-unreasonable-human. The stuff you have is just stuff...

But that was before my neighbor put these bad boys out on the street free for the taking:

One of the things I highly enjoy about Seattle is how often people put quality goods on the side of the road and give it away for free. It's great. The helmet seen below is also a road-side freebie.

I have to confess... I think my possessions might have just made me cooler, better, or of higher worth. If I had my circa 2004 mullet this classic #1 sign would seal the deal for sure. Maybe next year I'll bring it back.

All my biking love,

HaRa

Boss

2011-06-14T20:51:00.003-06:00

The finished product. Keeping things classy:

Soothe

2011-06-02T23:52:00.006-06:00

Remember a couple posts ago when I talked about my killer style? Well, I've been growing my hair for a while now...

And I just wanted to introduce you to my first ponytail.

Despite giving me a headache after about 7 minutes it was really quite enjoyable. I suppose I should introduce you to my neck hair as well... Maybe I should give that a trim.

Trouble

2011-05-24T22:49:00.004-06:00

Today was a sad, sad, day of life.

I lost my second oldest friend...

Before I go too far with this, let me just say that my oldest friend is my wallet (which I stole from a good friend 14 years ago and still carry with me today)... But my second oldest friend was my electronic, hand-held, toilet Yahtzee.

Yep, I play Yahtzee while I sit on the toilet. You don't know what real joy is until you've experienced a Yahtzee followed closely with a Large Straight all whilst clearing your body of leftover Chinese and hot pockets.

Don't judge me. Just mourn.

R.I.P.
Hand-Held Yahtzee
August 2006 - May 2011

Life in a glass house

2011-05-11T22:57:00.000-06:00

My friend Caitlin had a karaoke birthday party a couple weeks back and invited me along. I got to meet some new people, sing some songs, eat some cake... All around good times.

About a week later Caitlin called me, laughing... It turns out that one of the guests I met at the party told Caitlin he thought I was a foreign exchange student.

???

Nothing against foreign exchange students... but... uh... that's kind of messed up.

Then I remembered this amazing sweater I wore as a joke on New Year's Eve. Only... everyone thought I was serious and several people told me they thought I was some Nordic dude doing my Nordic thing.

Fine. I talk funny. I'm confused about what to do with my hair. Sometimes I wear black jeans. I apparently give the thumbs-up in photos. I guess I'll just embrace my Anglo Saxon roots and start looking for a host family.

Any volunteers?

All my enmity free foreign love,

H.R.

Age of Innocence

2011-04-13T20:58:00.008-06:00

So I was wasting some time on the old social network the other day when I noticed a peculiar advertisement. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something like, "Come check out the pants of the future." Because I'm so hip-to-the-jive when it comes to clothes, the future of pants was something I had to know... When I clicked the link, this is what I saw:

I spent far too many precious minutes of my life deliberating on whether or not this website was serious or if I had just been linked to an Onion article. But as far as I can tell, these guys are for real.

First of all, crotch heat index? That sounds made up to me. I would ask to see some data, but I think it better that the methodology of that study remain a mystery to me.

Second of all, "drastically lower"... I have to ask... Are the temperatures of our groinal regions really getting so hot that they need to be drastically lowered? And if that is in fact the case, the best thing we can come up with is turning corduroy sideways!?!

I'm feeling two things right now:
1) Oddly violated by the targeted marketing of the social network
2) Severely let down by the designers of the future

Anyway, I hope this didn't ruin anybody's day... The next time I decide to expose the future I'll be sure to have a spoiler alert at the beginning.

As we know it

2011-03-27T23:17:00.005-06:00

If there's one thing I love, it's a solid end of the world prediction. According to this group the end of the world is coming in May, 2011. That's soon, I know. Actually, I want to be sure my propaganda is accurate... Judgment Day is May 21 and THEN, naturally, the world really ends on October 21.

Now that I know when the world is going to end, I've been able to make some pretty amazing changes to my life. For example:

-I dropped out of school. Progress is for suckers.
-I stopped brushing my teeth. Teeth? Also for suckers.
-I activate every credit card that comes to me in the mail. Fur coat, anyone?
-Four words: More beef, less fruit.
-I eat mushrooms by the handful... The good kind. Why worry about the end of the world when I can hallucinate about unicorns eating Lucky Charms while playing poker?

I'm pleased to say that I'll be leaving this life with few regrets. As mentioned in a previous post, I've already given birth to ten children, so I've got that whole family thing covered; I've fallen in love once... maybe twice... It's hard to tell, really; I tried out for the rowing team at my school (well, I went to the meeting where they talked about it... I'm going to count it); so... that pretty much covers everything I wanted to do in life.

However, I will regret the fact that I won't be able to fulfill my one true life goal of living to be 100 years old. Most people mock me when I tell them that I look forward to being old, but the truth is, I would highly prefer it. There is just something so appealing to me about oldness...
You don't have to work
or have hygiene
or worry about money
or change your own diaper
or hydrate your loose skin
You get to take a bunch of random drugs and spend your days fishing or playing poker with unicorns.

Man... I'm really sad I won't get to experience that.

See you at the Judgment Bar.

Men who stare at goats

2011-03-10T23:19:00.012-07:00

The other night I was struggling to transfer some videos from my phone to my computer and ended up in my Photobucket account. I hadn't been to this account in a long, long time... and while browsing through old photos I was seriously confused when I came across this one:

For the life of me I could not figure out who this guy was, and more importantly, why I had this photo in my account. But because this mystery was not exactly pressing, I just went to sleep.

Early the next morning, in a bleary-eyed state of mostly-sleep, his image flashed in my mind and I thought, "Man, that dude looks like a goat." When I had this thought, I remembered why this photo was in my account. Back in 2008 I read a story about a man who cut the heads off two goats on Halloween night and placed them in an elementary school playground. I remember thinking "Man, that dude looks like a goat... and he cut the heads off two goats and put them in an elementary school playground... That dude's got problems."

He inspired me to create a blog featuring people like him... But like many of my other project ideas, it disappeared at the bottom of my list of chores. Just in case the day ever comes where my chores become less burdensome and I have the desire to pursue this idea, I went ahead and registered That Dude's Got Problems. If I ever get around to posting anything on there, I'll let you know.

All my problematic love,

Harvey Solution

10,000+

2011-02-16T00:02:00.007-07:00

Sometimes I get bored with my school work and decide to Google stuff and write blogs instead. Tonight I felt the pressing need to figure out how old I am in days. I found a great website that provided the answer... I am officially 10,420 days old.

You'd think having lived 10,000+ plus days that I'd really have this life thing figured out... Turns out I don't. Here's what my journal entry might look like if I kept a journal.

Day 10,420:
Dear Diary,
I suck at being healthy. It's been about a week of this illness. You should see what's coming out of my nose... it's madness. I missed my bus this morning and had to walk to school in the rain. Apparently the sole of my right shoe has worn through, because about two minutes into my walk I had soggy foot syndrome. So I sat through hours of lectures with a wet right foot. In other news, I got a paper cut underneath my fingernail from the label of a bottle of salad dressing in my fridge. Seriously, what are the odds? It really stings. I'm not very good at life...

Sincerely,
H.R.

Ridiculous, I know.

This discovery of my age in days got me thinking... I'm not a big fan of celebrating my birthday, however, I am now a huge fan of celebrating 1,000 day milestones.

So consider this your personal invitation to Harvey Ralph's 11,000 Days of Life Festival. It will be held on September 17, 2012. If you already have plans, I suggest you cancel, because this party is going change your life for the better.

I imagine it a lot like this... Lots of old hippies. Pants optional. Please RSVP.

Now and Then

2011-02-02T23:01:00.006-07:00

Back in the olden days, I stood up straight. When I say olden days, I mean 1992. I was ten. Life was easy then. I had the wind at my back, the sun on my face, and a frozen burrito in my belly. But eventually the sands of time got heavy and left me slouching like young Forrest Gump.

I wish I could blame all that wind blowing at my back, but sadly, I have no real excuse for my poor posture. All I know is that my driver license says I'm 6'2", but if I stand up straight I'm actually 7'9". I've got problems. And what are we young Americans taught to do when we have a problem?

Buy stuff.

So I did. A new shoulder harness. Even though it restricts my breathing and seems to cause my arms to fall asleep a bit, I choose to believe that in the long run it's going to improve my quality of life. As a guy that wants to live to be a hundred years old, quality of life is highly important. Instead of looking like Mr. Burns, I will look like the lead violin player in the London Symphony Orchestra. You don't know who that is? Me neither. But I bet that dude sits up straight.

And since I've always secretly wanted to post a cool-guy picture of myself in the bathroom mirror... here's what it looks like. You can barely notice it, right?

Street Spirit

2011-01-06T22:49:00.009-07:00

January. The time of year I deceive myself into thinking that for some reason this year is going to be different than the last. That this is the year I finally correct my posture. That this is the year my life will be like the movie The Blindside and I'll go from being an uneducated poor kid to playing in the NFL. It usually takes about a week for life to ruin my life and my posture to return to its far more imperfect positions... and just like that my NFL dreams are shattered. Life is not like the movies. FYI.

Under normal circumstances, this would also be the time I vow to eat healthier and lose weight. But over the past 4 months and 2 days of being in Seattle, I've actually lost roughly 20 lbs. Resolute that. And because, like suckers, many of you probably have vows of healthier eating habits (but mostly because I love you), I thought I'd share my weight loss secret with you:

Clock Eating

Let me explain... sometimes I'll be sitting at my computer and be eating a bag of chips. As I'm eating, my body will start to tell me that I'm full. The main problem is, I want to keep eating chips. So I bargain with myself and say something like, "Okay body, I know that you think you're full, but I'm the boss and I want to keep tasting these chips. The clock says 8:25, so I'll stop eating at... 8:33."

And then I eat as many chips as I want until 8:33. By this time I'm sweaty and gross because I'm so full, but the important thing is, I set a goal and I kept it. Just like the kid from the movie.

In addition to this clock eating, I also stopped sitting in a chair for 14 hours a day, stopped eating out all the time, walk way more, and eat healthier in general. I feel great. Funny how that works out.

Anyway, I hope the new year finds you well.

All my seasonal love,

H. Ralph

A King's Life

2010-12-22T11:31:00.008-07:00

My car exploded recently. Exploded might be the wrong word; but died is completely appropriate. It was pretty great... I was driving down a super busy street, sitting at a traffic light, and then all of the sudden... nothing. My car totally stopped. Severe electrical malfunction. Fortunately, I'm a 200lb man, and amidst the angry 9-to-5-ers whose life I was ruining by delaying their travels home by 27 seconds, I was able to give my car a little shove, coast it down a hill and hide it in an alley. Coming up with the money to salvage this major convenience is going to severely compromise my already severely compromised life. Life is easy and fun.

Although there are multiple sub-stories involved in this tale, I'll cut it short and just say that my car has been in the shop for a couple weeks and will be until the new year. Which brings me to the real purpose of this post...

Soliciting money.

Not really. Obviously the purpose of this post is spreading Christmas cheer.

My very kind and loving sister and brother-in-law happened to have a spare truck they've been letting me borrow while my car recovers. It's a 1996 F-150 and really takes me back to my Cedar City roots. It's kind of hard to park, and sometimes I feel like people are judging me (which takes me back to my Alpine roots), but the truth is, I highly appreciate having this truck as it has made some of the chores in my life much easier to manage. So thank you kindly loving family.

Here is my digital Christmas card for the year. It's me in "Big Red," giving a #1 sign, because I feel like that's something guys who drive trucks do.

Pale Scales

2010-12-02T20:34:00.004-07:00

Many of you probably don't know this, but I am the father of several children. Fortunately, I don't have to raise them... I usually just inadvertently flush them down the toilet. Before you call child services on me, let me clarify that the children I give birth to are kidney stones. And they hurt. Badly.

A couple weeks ago I birthed number 8 and 9. It made me weep.

The good news about this round of stones was that I actually captured one for analysis. How do you capture a kidney stone? Well, let's just say it involved me, a bathroom stall at school, and a lot of toilet paper. It was awesome. I seriously did a double fist pump when I got it. Now I can send it off to the lab where they'll tell me if it's acid or calcium based, and then I can alter my diet. I'm all about preventative kidney stone behaviors.

Anyway, over the years of my blogging, I've seriously looked at a million photos of your kids. It's the least you can do to take a good long look at the only image of any of my children.

Let me introduce you to kidney stone number 8:

And for those of you that might be a little slow, the dime is there to provide some context on the size of the stone.

Big Fish II

2010-11-12T22:50:00.010-07:00

Keeping form with my diet watch, about a week ago I got to participate in an old Swedish tradition...

A friend of mine had spent some time in Sweden about 15 months ago, and while he was there he purchased a can of fish. Not just any can of fish... apparently, the can that houses this fish is built to expand as the fish expires over time. So the idea is you leave it on your shelf or in the fridge or whatever, and after a period of at least a year, you open it up and eat it with some potatoes and stuff like that.

The can we had was purchased in the summer of 2009... and as you can see, this thing was seriously about to burst.

We decided to open the can outside, so my friend wouldn't get evicted... and after the dry-heaving stopped, we realized that was a great choice. The smell was like nothing I've ever experienced. To make matters worse, the wind wouldn't pick a direction, so the scent kept following us around. But we pulled some out and made some little burrito-like things. I actually only ate a single bite, and it wasn't as bad as I was prepared for... but it was amazing powerful and caused a pretty decent round of dry-heaving. So I decided one bite was enough. I can still taste it.

Anyway, good times.

Once in a while

2010-11-02T17:19:00.003-06:00

This would be way funnier to me if it wasn't the third time it's happened.

Note to self: To use the pepper flip the lid up, don't twist the cap off.

I.D.I.O.T.

Vieuphoria

2010-09-16T13:01:00.009-06:00

I know this blog is titled The Life and Times of Harvey Ralph, but over the years of blogging this mess, I have deliberately focused my writings on the Times of Harvey Ralph, and not so much the Life.

But... given the circumstances... Here is the one and only blog about the Life of Harvey Ralph. This makes me uncomfortable on several levels... But I love you more than I hate the cheapening effect of the Internet, so here you go:

Seattle Harvey
The euphoria of being in a new place is fading, and my life is beginning to feel more like life, and less like vacation. Outside of spending more money than I intended, the past 10 days have been pretty great. I caught a Real Salt Lake vs Seattle Sounders soccer game, saw the Red Sox play the Mariners, saw my beloved Smashing Pumpkins in an 1,800 capacity venue, went to the Puyallup Fair, and on Friday I’m going camping in the Olympic Mountains (the people at REI told us to watch out for bears. Great.) Like I said, it’s pretty much been a vacation.

I live in a surprisingly large 9 bedroom house. So far there are only 5 of us, so it’s been good. I chose a room in the basement. I know, surprise surprise, right? I’m just a guy minding my own business... and the basement room made the most sense for what I want to do (ie guitar and meth lab). I moved into my room one day after they had cleaned the carpets, and they are honestly still kind of damp. So, my room is a little extra musty and is rocking a solid combination scent of classic ‘70s basement, Febreze and cheap cleaning supplies. I can bottle some up and send it to you if you want.

The grace of God brought me a full size bed my first night in my house, which was great, otherwise I would have been sleeping on the soggy floor with the two fairly large hobo spiders I killed that night in my room. I’m not a big fan of spiders, so the next day I went to the Home Depot and bought a new screen for my window well and some bug spray. My window is underneath this huge deck, and when I went to spray, it seriously turned into a scene from Arachnophobia. You think I’m exaggerating, but seriously, I killed several spiders the size of a fifty cent piece, and then, to my under-prepared astonishment, the Mother Spider came at me with some serious aggression. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, so naturally, I tried to take out my phone to get some footage. But alas, my life was in danger so I just had to show that creepster who’s the boss and stomp it out stompy style. I really am the boss, and the size of that spider really was out of this world.

But in two weeks school will start and my life will return to flash cards and fried chicken. In the mean time, a few photos:

This is my house from the front:

The deck in back, where I stomped out some creatures:

I run here. This is Green Lake, not too far from my house. There’s a paved path that goes around the lake... I highly enjoy it.

All my love.

Blank Page

2010-09-06T12:03:00.008-06:00

There's something quite humbling about loading every earthly possession into a car and driving 13 hours to your new life. It will be pretty much like my old life, except I'll sleep on the floor, the sky will be more gray, the rent will be less cheap, and my pale body will be far more socially acceptable.

Every time I move I am amazed at the amount of junk I have stashed away. Stuff I'll never need, but keep around "just in case." One of the hardest things for me to surrender were these:

These are the flashcards I made over the last 2.5 years of my college education. I know we all learn differently, and maybe you have the ability to read a couple hundred pages of textbook and nonchalantly absorb all the new vocabulary and concepts. But, I don't. So I made these. That little stack on the left is an unopened pack of 300 index cards... so feel free to count them up and provide an estimate. Pretty sure I developed somewhat of a photographic memory by the end of my senior year. Not like Rainman, but still, I could memorize things pretty quickly.

When I threw these away, I felt like I was throwing away my college education. I also tossed all my old notebooks... sad. If some vagrant decides to go through my trash before Thursday morning, he will find himself one mighty fine college education.

Anyway, the good news is, my car didn't explode, I found a place to live, my body has stopped cramping up from the long drive and I slept for ten hours last night. I lost another hubcap on my car... for those of you who are counting, only one remains. But I'll leave it for now. Girls love a guy with a pale body, a Rainman memory and a solo-hubcapped car. Hawt.

I love you all and hope the days find you well.

All my smashiest,

Harvey

Exit Music

2010-08-10T17:42:00.009-06:00

As some of you may have heard, in the not too distant future I will be moving to Seattle to attend graduate school at the University of Washington. I will miss many of you terribly, but I do look forward to the new.

Obviously, this move will require me to leave my current job. Although I didn't quit in the amazing fashion of this Jet Blue employee (after an argument with a passenger, he grabbed a few beers, pulled the emergency handle, slid down the emergency slide, walked to his car and went home. Amazing.) I did make a Ten Year Plan PowerPoint and presented it to my coworkers.

I thought you might appreciate a couple excerpts from my presentation. For the record, I told my boss of my intended move several months ago... But for a variety of reasons, I did not tell my coworkers until this masterpiece.

Enjoy.

If any of you have any Seattle connections, please, connect.

All my love.

Medellia of the Gray Skies

2010-07-01T17:16:00.007-06:00

Due to the fact that my spring, summer, and fall wardrobes are dominated by gray shirt(s), and because my favorite color actually is gray, I couldn't really refute the nickname "Grayboy" assigned to me by a friend a while back. There is a story behind that particular name. A story involving me, a gray cat, and a monster cat bowel movement... followed closely by an adult-sized grumble storm, flashbacks to my cat-ruined-sandbox youth, and finally, being born again as an extreme cat loather as I peeled my greasy shirt off my body... but that story is for another day.

Most people frown upon my favorite color selection, or at minimum, furrow their brow in confusion and grief. But after an extensive search, I feel it enlightening to reveal the correct meaning of gray, and defend my color selection. I can only assume the single website I visited (Emily Gems crystal-cure.com) is fair and balanced.

According to Gem Master, Emily Gem...

* Gray is the symbol for security, maturity and dependability
* It connotes responsibility and conservative practicality
* Native Americans associate gray with friendship
* Gray clothing suggests efficiency
* Gray can be restful and have a cooling effect
* Gray has a stabilizing effect

See... Gray is not all that bad. These things totally encompass what I am all about. You should all allow it to fill your life with security and peace and love...

However, in the spirit of full disclosure, I suppose I should share some other Gem Master Gray thoughts...

* Gray is the color of sorrow
* It has a detached and isolated feeling
* Lack of imagination
* Its energy imparts void, emptiness, lack of emotion, warmth and identifying characteristics
* Too much gray, or the wrong shades will suggest lack of character, initiative and detachment

Pfffft... What does Emily Gem know? Who made her the color expert, anyway? Who even wants character and initiative? Lack of imagination?? She obviously hasn't heard of the electro-snug or Boozer Brows. And just because I haven't had a friend since 2006 doesn't mean I'm isolated.

Hmmm...

Fine. You win this time Gem Master... It all describes me so perfectly.

I feel nothing.

Just call me Big Harvey Grayboy

Porcelina

2010-06-06T11:04:00.007-06:00

Some time ago I started getting into Homeopathic medicine. One of my favorite remedies was cayenne pepper, and for a long time I was taking cayenne shots every day.

Last week I had a friend over. While tinkering around in the kitchen I noticed a little pouch of red cayenne powder sitting on the fridge, so, naturally, I offered my guest a shot. Surprisingly, she said yes. Being a 209 lb man, and having built up an immunity to this magical dust, I gave myself a pretty healthy scoop. After sitting in front of a fan for the next twenty minutes, we headed out the door to a local music venue to catch a show.

After about two hours, I was still feeling pretty good... but then... not so much. It became clear that I was in imminent danger and needed to find a toilet. So, I crept away from the lass I was with, and headed into the men's room. To my abject fear, I found something like this...

A single stall with no door. The stall I faced had even less coverage than this. Now, look, I understand some people are totally cool with the idea of the no-door-stall... if you're in the Army, for example, from what I understand there are places that just line the toilets up with no separation at all...

If that's your thing, if you're totally down with the no privacy toilet, I tip my hat to you unabashed sickos. I, on the other hand, am unnaturally uncomfortable with this perverse setting.

But, my belly was angry that night, and alas, I gave that toilet a cayenne smash whilst a steady stream of hipsters and their beards kept me company. It was terrible. Terrible.

of mice and men

2010-02-11T21:36:00.014-07:00

Some of you may have heard the recent news regarding heavyweight boxing champ Evander Holyfield. Apparently, the Champ was upset about his wife's refusal to show check stubs from her donations to their church. According to her account, he started yelling at her, telling her she "needed to start putting God first" in her life. Things escalated, and eventually he ended up hitting her multiple times.

I can't think of a better way to "put God first" than by punching your disobedient wife in the face. If you really want to show your love for the Lord, I'd recommend following it up with a few quick jabs and a solid curb-stomp.

This incident is one of several in recent months that clearly demonstrate the lack of solid role models in the current public sphere. Back in my day, things were different. We had real heroes.

Take for example, Andre the Giant.

In one of my first semesters of college, a course required presenting a Powerpoint of a personal hero to the class. Most people chose their grandpa or Abe Lincoln or someone of that nature; I on the other hand chose Andre the Giant, and titled my presentation "The Life and Times of the Amazingly Large Andre the Giant". Seriously. It was awesome. I gave the presentation as if I were dead serious... maybe 3 people understood I was messing with them Andy Kaufman style... the rest thought I had problems.

Below is a glimpse of what my presentation contained... My hero.

deus ex machina

2009-12-29T20:46:00.011-07:00

Well, it's that time of year again, where I vow to stop eating my body weight in chocolate, beef, chocolatebeef, and Doritos...

But with each resolve of health I ask myself one question: who wants to live like this??? I know I don't. The other day I got two packs of peanut M&Ms out of the vending machine for the price of one and I seriously did a double fist pump and said "Yeah!" loud enough that several people looked over in my direction. It genuinely made my day and I ate both packs within an hour. Some life.

Do I have a problem? Maybe. But I take comfort in knowing I have never done this:

Over the past couple months, someone in my place of work has been writing letters to the vending machine man in hopes of getting more Keebler Wafer Cookies stocked in the machine. I guess I can understand this behavior... It's a mighty tough task to make it through a monotonous work day without a solid pack of Keebler Wafer Cookies in your belly...

But really, if you're eating entire vended rows of snacks and writing multiple letters pleading to the God of the Machine... you've seriously got problems.

2010 was going to be the year of Healthy Harvey, but these Letters to the Vendor have inspired me to take a new direction in life. You may remember the 2004 documentary "Super Size Me" where Morgan Spurlock ate only McDonald's food for a solid month... Well, keep your eyes out for my new documentary "Me, Myself, & Machine".

For one year I will eat nothing but food from my work vending machine. I know this is dangerous to my health, and that I will most likely die a toothless Type II diabetic death. But really, I'm doing it for you. You need to see the damaging effects of sugar on the human body and understand that although Snickers are indeed satisfying, if you eat a bunch of them you're going to be rolling around in an uncomfortably squishy body whose heart would rather take a nap than pump kool-aid blood to the brain.

Finally, a resolution I can keep. I'll keep you posted on a release date.

All my vended love,

Unhealthy Harvey

In the arms of sleep

2009-12-10T20:42:00.012-07:00

Every now and then the ghost of Ben Franklin comes to my mind and inspires me with brilliancy. Earlier this week, I was in my office and freezing. The Aquafina bottle I fill up with hot water and set on my lap just wasn't doing the trick. Like most logically minded folk, I found myself wishing I had an office Snuggie... And that's when inspiration settled in.

Naturally, I dropped everything and went to work on a schematic. Let me introduce to you, the Electro-snug:

Traditional heating blankets are okay, but they can slip and slide; and when you need to reach for something, your hands are trapped inside. Now there's the Electro-snug, the electric blanket with sleeves.

Following the genius naming convention of rip-off cold cereals (i.e. Apple Zaps, Frosted Mini Spooners, Honey Nut O's, etc.) the Electro-snug is every cold person's dream. As the lightning bolts clearly indicate, in the Electro-snug, endless warmth is just a standard power socket away. With 87 feet of cord, you can take the Electro-snug pretty much anywhere. From the kitchen, to the laundry room, to the office, to the bathtub, the Electro-snug is everywhere you want to be.

If you'd like to invest, send me a couple rolls of quarters, your credit card, social security number and a grilled cheese sandwich. Did I mention the Electro-snug can also cook grilled cheese sandwiches? Grab some bread, butter, and cheese and clamp it all down in your armpit for about 3 minutes... Perfect.

If you're still a little hesitant, let me remind you that over 4 million normal Snuggies have been sold world wide.

Ridiculous.

It's all so clear

2009-12-04T23:30:00.013-07:00

For the second time in 7 weeks a contact has exploded in my eye. You might have doubts about my use of the word "exploded", but how else do you explain the fact that when I put the contact in my eye it was in one comfortable, vision correcting piece... then later that day, after minutes of severe discomfort, I'm pulling four pieces of eye-ball-wrecking-slop from the inner corners of my brain? The direction to change them every two weeks is just a suggestion... right?

Outside of the obvious consequences of not being able to see the board at school, these exploding contacts have forced me into some new dilemmas.

The main problem: constant squinting is causing an increase in face wrinkles. As my wrinkled face attests, I am aging faster than the average human. That's a fact. A friend of mine recently asked me how old I was... Because I was quite a bit older than this young lass, I hoped to confuse her by inventing an equation for my age, so I politely asked her to count the wrinkles near my eyes... she counted 11. (wrinkles on my face x 3) - 6 = Harvey's age. She figured it out. But you can see that I do have a problem... constantly squinting due to poor vision is going to exponentially compound the wrinkles I already have (which, okay, are primarily smile lines... but believe me, I'm doing everything I can to cut back on that).

This persistent squinting is also leading to a rise in my creepiness factor. Prior to this constant squint festival, I maintained a steady 2.7 out of 17 on the creepiness scale. I attribute this rating to a combination of bad posture, lazy eye(s), and my unexplainable southern drawl.

But on more than one occasion over the past couple weeks, I've been walking across campus, and innocently believing I see a girl I know walking towards me in the distance, I continue to try bringing her into focus as she approaches so I can say hello... By the time she gets within the necessary 4 feet zone I realize I don't know her after all... yet I've been staring/squinting at her for about 30 yards. Her face is perfectly clear... I'm a creep. 14.3 style.

One day in the near future, I will look like this guy. Who, according to my age equation, is well over my goal of reaching 100 years of life.

So if you have any creams or ointments you could send over to de-age my face, that would be great. Better yet, a solid vision insurance plan would change my life... I opted out of mine at work because it cost $8 a month. I'm an idiot. In the mean time, I'll just keep creeping around with my 20/100 vision.

Killing Time

2009-11-28T14:15:00.006-07:00

What do you like to do when you drive for several hours by yourself? Music? A dvd perhaps?

I like to pick my nose until it bleeds.

It's even better when the only apparatus you have to stop the bleeding is the sock off your foot.

Give it a shot sometime.

Death From Above

2009-10-28T16:15:00.006-06:00

As I'm sure many of you are aware, swine flu season is right around the corner. I read an article today that said flu rates are already reaching average seasonal peak levels, but about two months ahead of when they should be peaking. That's not a good sign. Eight people died in Utah of the swine flu since September 1st... also not amongst the most encouraging news.

I have to bring to light the fact that most of the dying people are old, and that's what old people do, they die. However, at least one of those deaths was in my approximate age demographic... and that's what has me worried. I generally consider myself of reasonable health, but I think I'm starting to get a little paranoid about getting zing-zong-zanged by the swine flu.

Recently one of my co-workers was feeling sick. Being the caring, loving, non-self-interest-serving soul that I am, I decided to look the symptoms of swine flu up for her. One website listed:

* unusual tiredness
* headache
* runny nose
* sore throat
* shortness of breath or cough
* loss of appetite
* aching muscles
* diarrhea or vomiting

That sounds about right.

My problem... If you change diarrhea to explosive diarrhea, then I experience at least 5 of those on a daily basis. That leaves only 3 additional symptoms to diagnose myself. And since my Doctor of choice since 2003 has been the Internet, I really need to keep an eye on these things...

I've managed to avoid the chicken pox (so far...) And compared to the chicken pox, this virus is a coward. I have no alternative but to believe I'll dodge this bullet for now... But I'll keep you posted. Hopefully I won't have to eat some crow later this year.

The Future Embrace

2009-09-18T21:59:00.003-06:00

Recently we replaced our rabbit ears with a satellite dish. Rocketing from 4 channels to 200 overnight is proving to be a stimulating, yet incredibly wasteful, experience. Instead of being forced to choose between Judge Judy, Judge Alex or newly appointed Judge Ellen... my life has become full of much more difficult decisions.

Here's a question for you:

Which is better: The Last Samurai or Dances With Wolves?

See, that was hard. But it's actually a trick question. They are the exact same film. A lesson I had to learn the hard way as they were both on TV this afternoon.

This consumption of copious amounts of worthless television is no doubt going to lead to a decrease in my GPA and an increase in the elasticity of my skin... But it's all worth it. For today, while in a deep, lethargic, afternoon slumber, I had a vision...

I need to become a Samurai. Starting now.

I know how that sounds, but if you watch The Last Samurai and honestly in your heart do not want to flee all your possessions and join them in the Japanese hills... well, you have no soul.

It's official, my life finally has purpose. I'm off to a place where your boss pays you in rice and the goat milk flows freely from the nipple.

Feel free to visit me if you want some wisdom...

Sincerely,

Harvey The Samurai

P.S. If anyone needs me to photoshop anything for them just let me know... I have this sweet program called Paint, I can do pretty much anything you want.

Bacon: The nectar of the Gods

2009-09-09T15:41:00.001-06:00

Americans are obese. That's not news to anyone... Is it? We're fat. Sorry, but we are.

I'm not on a crusade to change the world or mold your mind (or body)... For the most part, I'm just a guy trying to mind my own business. If you want to eat Panda Express for breakfast... I get that... For the eight minutes before your body starts convulsing Orange chicken is way more magically delicious than a bowl of Lucky Charms, and certainly more satisfying... Or if you want to be like one of my little brothers who I found eating Otter Pops and a Chocolate Orange at the same time last Christmas day (sorry Mitch)... Again, I don't really have a problem with this. Just don't call me when you need someone to wake you from your diabetic coma and administer a life saving insulin shot. That's all I ask.

Moral of the story: What you put in your body is of no real concern to me.

However, every rule has an exception, and the exception to this rule is brought to us by our friendly neighborhood KFC and their new sandwich "The Double Down". As seen below, the DD consists of "two chicken fillets sandwiching Swiss and pepper jack cheeses, bacon and 'the Colonel's sauce'". KFC spokesman Rick Maynard said "It's such a meaty chicken sandwich, there's no room for a bun..."

I really don't know how to respond to this...

Look, when you start replacing bread with fried chicken?!?... Can we just categorically say you've got problems? That's all there is to it. You've got problems. Big, greasy, my-arteries-are-so-plaqued-up-my-heart-can't-pump-blood-to-my-toes-so-I-can-only-feel-them-on-the-weekend kinds of problems. Lucky for us, this sandwich is currently only in a couple test markets. Hopefully it won't make it to the 12 million daily customers, in over 15,000 locations, in 109 countries and territories around the world.

So, my friends, I love you. I want you to live long and happy lives. Maybe we can all agree to boycott this greasy mess... or maybe we should all meet up and just get it over with at the same time...

I'm down for whatever.

Sense and Sensibility

2009-08-08T23:49:00.000-06:00

Every now and then I like to pay a visit to the Utah Department of Corrections website to see what kind of perverts are lurking in the area. I don't have kids, but I'd still like to know if I need to keep a watchful eye on my neighbor, and perhaps more important, I'd like to know if my neighbor is keeping a watchful eye on me as I jog through the park. The last thing I need is some creep jumping out of the bushes trying to steal my underwear to make them into a pillowcase.

At any rate, the other day I was on the site and came across a dude living a couple blocks from me. I would post his picture, but as I mentioned, trouble from a perv is the last thing I need. But what I will post is the list of the perv's tattoos... I don't know exactly why, but I found it to be pretty comical:

Tattoo on Chest (SKULL, WIZARD, UNICORN (TATTOO CHEST)) , Tattoo on abdomen (GIRL , "TANK" (TATTOO ABDOMEN)) , Tattoo on R_arm (SKULL INRON CROSS "REVOLUTION IS THE SOLUTION" GHOST SMILE MASKS GIRL (TATTOO R ARM UPPER)) , Tattoo on L_arm (DEMON, HEART W/ CROSS FACE (TATTOO L ARM))

I'm actually secretly a fan of tattoos, but I have to say, that is a ridiculous combination... Skull, wizard, unicorn??? "Revolution is the Solution"??? Demon? Ghost? Heart w/ cross face???

But after I gave it some thought, it actually made a lot of sense. It was like finding out that cocaine use was a contributing factor in the death of Billy Mays... Of course it was! Have you seen that dude's infomercials? Or like when Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin died by getting stabbed in the chest by a stingray... That's exactly what I would have guessed.

And so it is with pervs... If I had to guess what random combination of tattoos they'd have, the list would probably be some sort of Captain Hook meets Harry Potter meets Che Guevara collage just like my neighbor's.

Anyway, if you're in Utah I'd recommend going to this site and seeing who your neighbors really are:

http://corrections.utah.gov/asp-bin/sonar.asp

For any non-Utah residents, give this a shot:

http://www.familywatchdog.us/

Recession Depression Confession

2009-07-31T09:11:00.000-06:00

Let me preface this by saying I understand the recession we're currently experiencing to be a serious thing. I know there are many people out there genuinely struggling to make ends meet... and I definitely have sympathy towards them. I got laid off from my job a year ago May, and that summer ended up being arguably the darkest of my life.

However, I currently have a pretty reasonable full time job, I just paid off my 3-hub-capped-car, I have no dependents, and due to a ridiculous schedule, I don't really have a life... What I'm trying to say is, since reacquiring gainful employment about a year ago, I have been relatively unaffected by the current economic climate. But exactly like the unexpected snow storm that got the Donner Party, it all changed the other day when I experienced the first direct economic hit to my overall quality of life... Wendy's 4 Piece Nuggets.

For those of you who don't know, as long as I can remember Wendy's has sold a delicious pack of 5 piece nuggets with your choice of several tasty dippin' sauces at a whomping price of 99 cents.

So... Look Wendy's, all things considered, I'm poor. As my misshaped body clearly indicates, I eat at your restaurant all the time. I'm also hungry. For you to go and change your Value Menu and rob me of a precious piece of machine molded miscellaneous chicken parts...Well, that's just messed up. If Dave Thomas were still alive, I am confident the board members responsible for this decision would all get slapped in the face with an extra greasy all-beef hamburger patty. And a square one at that. With sharp corners.

In the mean time, I'll pay an extra nickel for each of my 4 measly nuggets... but outside of my heart being able to pump blood easier through my veins... I'm not going to like this one bit.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

2009-07-03T21:10:00.000-06:00

In the coming weeks I will reach 27 years of age… the sun is setting on my life. Not really, but I am starting to feel old. Despite my wrinkled face, failing right knee and irritable bowels, I really am feeling quite comfortable with the aging process. In fact, in almost every way possible, I genuinely look forward to being old… I have a life goal to live to be 100, which reminds me, I need to eat better.

In many ways my life already mirrors that of an old dude… I go to bed early, wake up earlier, eat wheat toast, yell at kids if they walk on my newly cut grass, say whatever I want, touch people’s faces, wish I had more medication, and I definitely complain a lot. But a couple weeks ago I made my most aggressive preparation for oldness yet… I purchased a cane. I am one day hoping to own a cane made of pure ivory from the tusks of the last elephant on earth, but for now, I’ll have to settle for one made of the finest wood $12 can buy.

Although the actual purpose of my cane purchase was to complete my costume for a prom-themed party I was so graciously invited to, it will no doubt be something I use often when I reach the age when I officially resign on youth and need a home nurse to change my diapers and spoon feed me applesauce. Only 73 years to go...

We Suck Young Blood...

2009-06-11T21:08:00.000-06:00

Last Thursday I sat at a computer for 15.5 hours straight. 11 hours at work, 3 at school, and 1.5 working on an assignment. Believe me when I say, this is no way to live life. I'm turning into a pudgy blob. My spine is crooked, my skin is loose, my wrists and shoulders hurt, and my vision is failing. Despite these many ailments, there are a couple positive consequences of all this computer interaction...

1) We all know it's only a matter of time before computers come to life and start messing with stop lights, shooting us in the face, and giving us false positives on our pregnancy tests. I have to believe that somewhere out there all the hours I spend with these electronic beasts are being recorded, and when they finally decide to come to life, they'll realize I'm their old friend and won't mess with me.

2) Along with saving my life at some unknown future date, my new computer friendship has given me an idea for a book. The story is inspired by my own life and is entirely original. There are two main characters, me and a computer that comes to life and turns into a female vampire. But she's not an evil computer vampire, she only bites animals, which for some unknown reason, is socially acceptable vampire behavior. Because she's so romantic, me and my Female Computer Vampire (FCV) eventually fall in love. She loves me so much that she saves my life when I almost get hit by a van, and she doesn't bite my neck and drink my blood, even though she's drawn to it. She's so romantic. But there's this other evil FCV that doesn't like me for some reason that wikipedia doesn't fully explain, and she's always hunting me and trying to bite me... she's not romantic at all. And one day, after claiming she was holding my mom hostage, she bit my hand and my FCV had to suck the venom from my system to save me from becoming a vampire... She's so romantic. I finally realize that there's a lot of benefits to being a vampire, so I try to get my FCV to bite me, but she won't because she loves me. Instead, because she's so romantic, we go to prom.

I would write this book, but as you can see, it sounds pretty ridiculous. Maybe I don't have the imagination for it...

Or maybe I'll talk to my publisher... keep your eyes out for a release date.

I guess it just Depends...

2009-05-12T21:23:00.001-06:00

A couples years back a few friends of mine were brainstorming a theme for their big moving away party. I threw several brilliant ideas into the mix, all of which were adamantly rejected... largely without merit.

One of my more inspired ideas was a diaper party. As the guests arrive, they would all receive their very own adult diaper. They could go into another room to change, then... you'd just hang out like everything was normal. The cowardly guests could wear tights under their diapers, but the cool kids would go gangsta style (no tights, just pasty thighs) for sure. The line to the bathroom would certainly be shorter, and hitting on a girl with the classic "Hey baby boo, I'll treat you right..." would just feel so much more natural and actually kinda make sense. This was the renaissance of party theme ideas... Yet, for reasons beyond my understanding, they settled on a moustache party, which, admittedly, was still pretty funny.

Last week I got an email from one my friends who moved away... She asked to remain unnamed, so we'll just call her Caitlin C. Wait, maybe that's too obvious... let's go with C. Cotter. Well, C. Cotter had been tinkering around on Facebook and stumbled into some very important photos. Turns out her cool hipster friends in San Francisco had received the same inspiration I had... only years later. She just wanted to let me know that I was way ahead of my time...

Thanks, but I've known that for years.

Quid Pro Quo

2009-05-05T21:33:00.001-06:00

If life has taught me one thing...

It's way easier to like someone for who they really are, if they are rich or attractive. As a mostly broke, marginally attractive fellow, this has the potential to become an enormous problem in my life.

Generally speaking, I'm not too concerned with material goods. This past week, while trying to get my soccer socks extra white for no reason, I splashed some bleach on my favorite pair of cut-off black shorts. To remedy these new white bleach spots, I took a Sharpie and colored them in. Black blotches covering white blotches look real great... Yet, I can almost guarantee I will wear these shorts every day this summer.

Also, about a year ago I lost one of the hubcaps on my car. Due to the mild embarrassment of a 3-hub-capped-car, I immediately went and found a replacement. A couple of months ago, I lost my replacement cap, and I still have not replaced it. I also lost one of my side mirrors... don't ask.

I tell you this because I'm concerned. Am I progressing as a person, as I become less concerned with appearance and possession? Or am I digressing further and further into the infinite indifference that will eventually turn me into an obese, opaque, scare crow of a human?

Hmmm... Who really cares? I know I don't. In the mean time, I'm sticking with this:

A mile in my shoes...

2009-04-15T20:39:00.001-06:00

I wake up most mornings at 5:30am. I'd rather not do this, but the current circumstances of my life make it necessary. It takes about 4 dreary minutes for my mind to gain any form of composure... I normally sit up, look around, wish I was asleep again, question the purpose of life, wish I was eating something tasty, solve some equations, and then get out of bed and feel great. Yesterday, however, I woke up feeling slightly hazier than usual...

Six hours into my workday I was walking around the city when I felt definite discomfort in my right foot... And that's when I noticed this:

I have two pairs of black shoes, one far more comfortable than the other... I was wearing one of each. I put on two different shoes and worked for six hours before I noticed... That can't be a sign of good health.

The Old and the Restless

2009-04-04T21:18:00.000-06:00

About ten days ago I found myself taking a journey across the Panama Canal. It took about ten hours to go ocean to ocean, and I must say that it was an incredible experience. One I will not soon forget. If you're ever in the area, I highly recommend it.

Outside of myself and one 16 year old girl from Texas(who spoke with an amazing level of intelligence... yet failed to understand basic sarcasm), everyone on our tour boat was quite old. With the wisdom and grace found only in the elderly, they successfully illustrated some classic tourist apparel and behavior. I had no choice but to document my findings and share them with the masses... or at least with the 6 people that read my blog.

Harvey Ralph's 7 Steps To Becoming An Amazing Tourist

1) Get yourself a solid pair of spring coiled Velcro shoes

I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that this is probably the best photo I took the whole trip... some random dude's spring coiled shoes. Although I may mock them, I am sure they are probably insanely comfortable. If any of us were ever to try a pair, I'm confident we would consider ourselves fools for ever wearing shoes without coils.

2) If you can't get yourself a pair of spring coiled shoes, get yourself a good pair of breathable socks and comfortable sandals.

These may or may not be my grandpa's feet, in a pair of socks, in a pair of sandals.

3) You're gonna need a good pair of sunglasses

If your glasses don't block out the sun's rays from every possible angle, consider them insufficient.

4) Get yourself an unnecessarily large camera lens, a good pair of Crocs, and some solid pastel colored clothes.

This guy nailed step 4.

5) You'll need a fanny pack for sure

Along with making Bob Sagget proud and looking great strapped around your waist, fanny packs actually do prove quite useful for carrying the miscellaneous trinkets you pick up along the way. Plus you can keep an extra set of 1 inch press-on nails on hand just in case one of yours falls off mid-voyage.

6) Get yourself an unusual hat and grow yourself a mean beard

How does a person prevent the elements from threatening the front and back of their neck at the same time? Mystery solved.

7) Grow all moles or any other gross features as large as you possibly can... and then make sure they're exposed so other people can see them.

Yeah dude, don't worry about getting this thing checked out... that's normal for sure.

Ca$h, Money, Million-heir

2009-03-03T20:28:00.000-07:00

Last summer, when my life was in shambles, I came up with an idea for a website I called Ihatemylife.com. It's a pretty simple idea... You visit the website and post reasons why you hate your life. Most of the reasons would be bogus and trivial... but piling up a big collection of random life-ruining events would hopefully do two things:

1) Be funny
2) Make you realize your life is actually pretty reasonable relative to other people out there in the cruel world

Turns out this website already successfully exists... exact same concept, but a different, more colorful name...

I tell you this because today I got another stroke of inventive enlightenment. After my usual 3 daily hours of pondering how I can make the world a better place and make money at the same time... I realized there are no social networking sites geared specifically at old people... and I invented something fancy...

My idea: Wrinkledface-book.com

Think about it... All the advertisements would be for prescription drugs, adult diapers, vitamins, weird smelling stuff... you know, the basic things old people need. But much like normal Facebook, we'd be bringing people together. Old people wouldn't have to cry themselves to sleep anymore and die cold, lonely, loose-skinned deaths... they can just perform a simple search and instantly be reunited with the Class of 1944. It's pure genius. They have infinite disposable time, a lot of them have disposable income, and they are all looking for one final triumph before they become disposable themselves...

I know what you're thinking... old people don't know how to use computers... which is true... for now. But 25 years from now, when the next generations ages, they will be technologically savvy and ready for some serious Internet loving. And let's not forget that most old people are creeps. They'll soon figure out, like I have, that with the Internet, their creep-abilities can reach the far corners of the universe. The world will be at the end of their arthritic fingers... and that's when my 100% market share will be perfectly primed to exploit their sorrow filled souls.

Mail me some money if you want to invest. Cash only. No refunds.

In good hands

2009-02-18T21:37:00.000-07:00

This U.S. Marshall recently arrested an unregistered child predator in Utah.

Nice job guy... keeping our streets safe.

But uh.... guy... did you just finish a year long stint undercover??? Because you kind of look like a big creepster violater yourself.

There's no way I let you babysit my kids.

No offense of course... I'm just saying...

The Poetry of My Heart

2009-02-11T22:06:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I pen this ode to lost love and poetic relics.

It would please me if the following characters were real, and mostly in love with me:

Clementine Kruczynski:

She has a personality that promises to take you to another world... a world where things are exciting. Her rampancy would cancel my mundane, repetitive, black and gray life... That's really all I can ask for... Someone to cancel my life. Sounds like true love to me.

Margot Tenenbaum:

She's just weird. Maybe unique is better. If there is an attractive quality that surpasses unique, I don't know what it is... But maybe that's because I'm marginally attractive at best and full of sarcasm, broken record stories and stolen jokes... She has a wooden finger and is terribly secretive. She also wears the same coat a lot, which I like. She writes stuff, she's depressed, she was a genius as a child... that's about it.

Astrid:

She's had a hard life. Don't worry girl... I'll treat you right... The primary reason I find her attractive is her artistry. I'd gladly trade whatever fading athletic ability I possess to be an artist. Oil painting... that's where I could have truly made a difference... Not running ladders for Coach Garrett and losing state championships in overtime. That's no way to live life... Yep, I should have been a painter... Bob Ross could be signing my paychecks instead of Uncle Sam.

Ducky from the Land Before Time:

Yes, I'm aware that she's a cartoon dinosaur... But before you cast your filthy judgement upon me... Have you watched that movie lately? I watched it this past summer while recovery from my tonsillectomy... and I gotta say, she's pretty attractive. She's full of life, energy and the optimism only found in the young. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that if you were Littlefoot, you wouldn't want to date her?

That's what I thought. Ducky, I'll see you in the Great Valley.

Pending Letters

2009-01-22T21:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Wells Fargo,

I get it. I really do. I understand your desire to convey exceptional customer service to every person that walks through the door... You've got to gain that competitive edge. But listen, I don't need any new friends. Nor do I need a place where everybody knows my name. What I need from you is transaction processing done as quickly as possible. If you want to smile, that's great. I can deal with that. But loudly asking me what my weekend plans are, or the specifics of my day, while a line full of people eavesdrops on the entire conversation... well, that just makes me feel uncomfortable. Just smile and process and I assure you we'll have a long and healthy relationship.

Sincerely,

Harvey Ralph

Dear Homeless Man,

Listen guy, I'm not sure how you ended up here, but believe me when I say that I'm sorry things turned out this way. Maybe your homelessness is a consequence of your own poor life choices, or maybe it's largely due to factors outside of your control... Either way, I'm genuinely sorry you don't have a home. But remember that time you left a big pile of feces in the middle of the sidewalk just outside my workplace? That was pretty gross, and I kinda wish you wouldn't have done that. Next time just be a normal bum and ask for a couple bucks and go buy a sack of fries from Carl's Jr and they'll gladly let you use their facilities.

Best Wishes,

Harvey Ralph

Dear Gym Guy,

I don't know if you noticed, but there are other people in this place. Those ultra-robotic-grunting-pelvic-thrusting-lunge-squats you do with the medicine ball while charging your way across the entire workout area... they are really awkward looking, and quite frankly, they make you look like a big perv. I have no idea what muscle group you're attacking there, but I know you certainly can't attack them all at once. Please... stop.

All my love,

Harvey Ralph

Dear Skin,

I don't know if you know this, but I'm a 26 year old man. And I just thought you might like to know that I'd really appreciate it if you'd cut back on the acne factory. It would make me feel a lot better about myself and maybe I would get the courage to actually talk to a member of the opposite sex. Just a suggestion.

Thanks,

Harvey Ralph

Like the Resoluting Fools We Are...

2008-12-30T19:12:00.000-07:00

Riddled with death, prolonged illness, economic collapse, and for a time, a sorrowful heart...with a hint of disdain, I must admit that I will be well pleased to bid farewell to the year 2008. Yet in the torched wake of this mess, I find myself surprisingly happy. Surprisingly content. It's a great feeling... And to be honest, it's quite foreign to me. I can't say I mind too much.

I am the type of person that makes resolutions. Generally speaking, I am opposed to sandbagging my poor habits until the 12th hour, vowing change in the coming year. An example: While watching the NBA finals earlier this year, I ate 27 chicken wings and had three cans of Pepsi. Needless to say, I felt like a blob-o-rama.edu. In that intensely lethargic moment, my heart stopped beating, and I vowed that for the remainder of the year I would refrain from carbonation (clearly it was the carbonation that caused cardiac seizures, not the 27 chicken wings). And although there were a few relapses along the way, I pretty successfully eliminated carbonation from my life.

Despite my best efforts to correct my glaring errors along the way, there are still a few things I intend to change in the coming year. Feel free to implement these into your own life, as I am certain they will improve the quality of our collective existence.

Harvey's 4 Ways To a Better Life in 2009:

1) A straighter spine in '09. My posture is terrible. I intend to stand up straight and stop looking like young Forrest Gump. As for not sounding like young Forrest Gump when I talk... well... that will have to wait until 2010.

2) No more heavy sighs in '09. After hearing my boss/friend let out a heavy sigh after being at work for only 10 minutes, I realized that heavy sighs really are quite demoralizing and depressing to those around you... I'll attempt to eliminate the several I release throughout any given day.

3) No carbonation or fries in '09. I want to be Healthy Harvey and live to be 100 years old, with a loving nurse to change my diapers and weed the garden. It's only logical to eliminate these foods from my diet.

4) Fitter. Happier. More productive.

May the new year be full of sunshine, bliss, unicorns, leather chairs, dollar bills, fresh baked goods, soft skin, and purple clouds.

Sincerely,

Harvey Ralph

They were the best of times...

2008-12-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

I was relatively poor growing up. I deliberately say relatively because I grew up in Alpine, and anyone who has been to Alpine knows that the streets are paved with elephant tusks, the people's teeth are made of pearls, and their pockets are full of fine cheese and prescription drugs. But such was not the case with my family. To paint a realistic picture of my youth... and this is 100% true, my next door neighbor to the north: The Mendenhalls. Their dad was a Super Bowl winning professional football player, they drove a Cadillac, and had two large exotic dogs that frightened little children.

The Hansen family on the other hand... our dad was employed, but the company he worked for wouldn't pay him for extended periods of time. We drove a van of amazing girth, and an astonishingly lengthy Oldsmobile. It seemed like we ate a lot of meat loaf and bottled fruit. I wore the same clothes literally every day... I guess I still do that now, but at least now it's by choice. Below is a photo of the home of my youth. It was a great house, and they were great days. The things I used to be insecure about make me smile now...

Due to our extreme poverty, for a couple years our family of TEN, moved out of this house, and into my grandparent's pool house, which was known as the "Chalet". This was built by my dad and his brothers back in the early 1970's.

It was divided into two areas, a bedroom(which consisted of a stack of mattresses) and a living room (which consisted of a stack of mattresses). If one of us was sick, we were all sick. There was one bathroom, but the boys usually just peed off the balcony. I miss those days. Many lessons were instilled in me during this time of my life... not just balcony peeing lessons, real lessons. Maybe one day I'll write about them, but for now, because I have clearly established myself as an expert on poverty, I'd like to present to you a list of ways you can test to see if you were in fact poor as a child...

Harvey Ralph's Poverty Test
1- The style of house you grew up in is known as a "rambler"
2- The basement in your rambler was unfinished and had cement floors
3- Your dessert of choice was a Rootbeer Float
4- You ate cheese quesadillas for dinner at least 4 nights a week and the cheese came out of a can
5- You didn't have cable, but you did a lot of puzzles
6- You wore the same pair of sweats to school every day
7- The pair of sweats you wore to school every day were covered in cat hair, and your family didn't even own a cat
8- Your family didn't even own a cat
9- You figure that if you just wait a while longer, the toothache you have will just go away
10- Your reward for doing your chores was 3 M&Ms

Not all of these happened to me... but some of them did. Truth is, I've always had whatever I've needed... And I realize now that I need very little.

Tis the season...

2008-11-30T22:45:00.000-07:00

Holidays are meant to be spent with loved ones... So it only seems right that after heading to Cedar City for a classic Hansen Family Thanksgiving, I continued south to Las Vegas to spend some quality time with the Smashing Pumpkins. Relative to the other times I've seen the Pumpkins, the lighting and overall sound for this show were probably inferior. But my mind was still blown and I was as happy as a child with an Otter pop in one hand and a chocolate orange in the other... which is pretty happy.

I'm fairly certain I'm in love with their new bass player Ginger Reyes. As seen below, she is very lovely and small and dominates the bass. It's a shame she just got married, because I would have treated her right... I would have bought her silky clothes and gold watches and I would have made her bacon every morning even though it would make me smell like bacon all day at work. That's the dictionary definition of true love.

And I gotta say Billy, I'm not a big fan of the spider on your shirt... but any person that wears a black Gothic dress and massive Nike high tops... well, they get a standing ovation from me any day of the week.

Home Sweet Home...

2008-11-21T23:31:00.000-07:00

Due to a series of unfortunate events, a friend of mine recently found herself in a pretty unreasonable living arrangement. The result... Matt and I now have a new roommate. Although it was slightly difficult to give up my office, (which consisted of a card table, a folding chair, and a lamp) given the circumstances, and the fact that we did indeed have an extra room in our house, it kind of made the decision to invite Kylie to live with us pretty simple. Outside of hitting on her all the time, and finding her to be terribly attractive, we basically operate like every other normal brother and sister.

After much resistance, I was finally able to get the three of us into matching denim clothes for our first family pictures. Here are a couple sample photos from the shoot. We're one big, happy, casual looking family.

Step right up...

2008-11-10T22:14:00.000-07:00

For the better part of two years I have been sitting on a genius business idea. With great patience and wisdom I have waited for the perfect time to enter the market and change the world for the better. My friends, that time is now. Let me be the first to introduce you to... Carlos Boozer's eye brows.

I don't know about you, but I find them to be perfectly stunning. For only $2.00 plus shipping and handling, you can be the very proud owner of your own pair of Boozer Brows. Hand crafted in the Hansen Family Sweat Shop, Boozer Brows solidify your status as a loyal and faithful Jazz fan. You simply are NOT a true Jazz fan until you slap a pair of these beauties on your face. With your own pair of Boozer Brows you'll be slam dunkin' and making the defense beg for mercy like a true super star. The women will line up to polish your boots and make you something tasty to eat at the same time. This is an opportunity you won't want to miss. So yeah, send me your money, 'cause I got bills to pay. Seriously.

Kind of a funny true story... The wife of a good friend of mine is the spa manager at a spa where Boozer has gone to get his brows waxed. Well, I told my friend about Boozer Brows, who told his wife, who told the girl who waxes Boozer's brows, who told Boozer himself. No lie. She said that he kind of laughed, and then said to make sure he gets his cut of the money... Yeah Boozer, I'll be sure to send that right over.

Well Spent

2008-10-15T20:26:00.000-06:00

I don't know quite how to respond to this... I know I find it pretty humorous. Let me just start by saying that I am a big fan of second hand commerce. In fact, I actually made a purchase from this exact location less than a week ago. Every time I visit a thrift store I leave with a smile on my face... Mainly because of the amazing melting pot of people all found under the same roof. Guaranteed every time you venture into a thrift store, the following sub-groups of society will be strongly represented:

* Hippie- Easy to spot... They will have dreadlocks and random piercings. The only way you can tell a male from a female is by the saggy breasts, and even then it's still usually a coin flip...
Heads = Male Tails = Female. The workers get confused because the clothes the hippies came into the store wearing, and the clothes they are trying on, are equally grimy, crusted, and filled with the same communicable diseases.

* Elderly- Usually in a pair of slippers, pushing around a cart with a combination of items that simply doesn't make sense. I for one refuse to believe that the old person actually needs the items they are about to purchase. In fact, I will say it is highly likely they already own multiples of the items they are going to purchase, they're just hidden somewhere in the garage or attic, or most likely, buried under the pile of dead cats in the corner of their living room.

* The poor mom with too many kids- Just follow the sound of the screaming kids and you'll find her. She won't be wearing make-up. Probably in a pair of well worn jeans and a sweater with a picture of a dolphin on it. Terribly disillusioned about life... rightly so. The faces and clothes of the kids are usually smeared with Popsicles and ketchup stains and they are clearly losing the battle with childhood obesity. Kind of depressing really.

*The pervert- The guy with the moustache and poorly kept hair. I can't stress this point enough... he will have a creepy moustache. If you don't believe me just look at the National Sex Offender website... the creepy facial hair is almost universal. He'll probably be buying a flannel shirt just like the one his chest hair is protruding from right now. He'll also be about 30 feet away from the screaming kids. He would be closer, but that would violate his parole. He'll light up an unfiltered cigarette immediately after exiting the building and he'll be walking because he doesn't own a car.

* The Rich lady- There will almost always be a Mercedes or other expensive luxury car in the parking lot. She's the one popping pain pills and looking at jewelry or a lamp or a fur coat or some other terribly tacky item. And let me let you in on a little secret... her eyebrows look like they're painted on... because they are. Weird, I know.

* The common middle class- This is the group most of us probably belong to. We're here for 3 reasons:

1) We understand that great treasures are to be found in thrift stores.
2) We're kind of poor... Not as poor as the poor mom, but still, kind of poor.
3) Seeing these people once a year at the State Fair is simply not enough.

But most importantly... We are clearly drawn to the hot deals inside.

Zeroes and Ones

2008-10-09T22:34:00.000-06:00

Many of my closest peers like to mock me for wearing pretty much the same clothes every day. In the summer, I really like my gray long sleeve shirt and my dying cut-off shorts. In the winter, I like my black long sleeve shirt and a pretty standard pair of jeans. On special occasions I may pull out a light blue shirt... but usually I stick with my familiar darker shades. I take these friendly jests in stride, mainly because I know that there is complete validity in what my peers are saying... Who wears the same clothes every day? That is not normal, and it's kind of gross. But before you manifest your ignorance further... you might be surprised to know...

It is heavily rumored that after Einstein's wife died he wore the same thing every day. One web site, which I will assume is perfectly true, claimed he did this so "He would not waste brain power deciding what to wear." I read you loud and clear Einstein. When you reach a certain level of intellect, you will realize, like I did, that deciding what to wear is simply not worth the brain power. Just toss on the same thing you wore yesterday and go solve some equations. Pretty logical choice if you ask me.

Further support of my decision is Picasso. After learning of a friend's suicide, he painted only in shades of blue for 4 straight years. This is now known as his "Blue Period" and produced some of his most well known work. At the time he had trouble selling these paintings... probably because people didn't understand. Much like Picasso, people don't understand my Gray Period. It's lasted the better part of 6 years and has produced some high quality tales from the sea, inventions, and a heart that is a bowl of jokes with black milk.

Maybe someday down the road I will experiment with some other colors... until then, I will sleep well knowing that my somber tones keep me in good company.

Note: Most websites said the Einstein thing was a myth, but it was devastating to my claim, so I chose a website that agreed with me more.

Bon Appetit & Diabetes?

2008-10-09T20:59:00.000-06:00

I have inadvertently lost 12-17 pounds over the last 8 weeks. This wasn't determined on Grandma's bogus 1967 scale either, I was professionally weighed by doctors on two separate occasions. Almost universally, people's response to this information is something to the affect of "I wish I had a problem like that." Okay, I can understand that thought... But let me tell you why I am slightly concerned... My life is basically one endless routine of commitments with each day painfully blurring into the next. I've done nothing different, yet I've lost approximately 8.5% of my total body weight. That can't be normal or healthy. Furthermore, my clothes are seriously falling off my body.

One possible factor in this unexplained weight loss could be that I have been off carbonation since June... well, actually I drank one Pepsi on an all night drive to San Francisco, and today I drank a Mexican Coke... which sounds like something a lot more fun, diseased, or racist than it really is... but it's just an imported Coke in a glass bottle(I do not promote racism). I also started a new job about 8 weeks ago, but I just sit around at a computer all day and eat, so that doesn't really make sense either. I suppose I could have a tape worm in my belly that is secretly eating all my food, but where would I get a tape worm from? Imported Coke? Doubtful. Imported bacon slabs... maybe.

After further diet analysis, I soundly concluded that I have poor eating habits. Pictured below is what I eat for breakfast everyday. These tasty breakfast bars are manufactured by our friendly neighborhood grocer Kroger, and let me tell you, they are seriously gross. But I eat them because I would rather sleep five extra minutes than eat cereal or imported bacon slabs. Look how delicious and satisfying the package makes them appear... the fancy wrappings open to reveal a nasty little brown thing compiled of mystery oats and glucose swirl. It barely fills the palm of my hand. I wonder if that's how Shaq Diesel feels when he eats foot long veggie subs...

Any tips to a healthier lifestyle would be highly appreciated. Or if you could just make me a sandwich that would be great.

4 U BOO

2008-09-26T22:15:00.000-06:00

With sarcastic seriousness, I claim expertise in many fields. I'm giving serious thought to launching a search engine called "Drewgle"... It would be similar to Google, except instead of searching millions of resources to find the most applicable result, I would just invent an answer and send it out as truth... I'll be rich.

As the overwhelming evidence of my collective efforts of ten years of dating suggests, love is clearly not one of my areas of expertise. However, I have been witness to many, many, different types of relationships, both the brilliant and miserable alike. One thing that always catches my attention, is the different terms of endearment people assign their significant other. I've determined that as long as they are used sparingly, and with a general awareness of the surrounding environment, I've got no real problem with the generic use of: babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. In fact, I just Drewgled it, and it was reported that terms of endearment probably strengthened relationships by 77.7% in 2007. It also suggested a few of my personal favorites: fried chicken, big sweetie, grizzly bear, baby girl, seabass, seabiscuit, cadillac with gold rims, diamond teeth, and finally, baby boo. Believe me, the ladies love these.

I have a very close friend who I would describe as having... I don't know... a very artistic appearance, maybe borderline Gothic at times... Well, about a year ago, while speaking on the phone to her husband, she jokingly referred to him as her "baby boo." My exposure to this term was pretty limited at this point... I know I'd heard it used by Flava Flave on reality t.v. and possibly one other time by Harper Lee when she wrote the prequel to To Kill a Mockingbird, which focuses mainly on Boo Radley's infancy... Anyway, as you can imagine, when my friend jokingly used it, given her personality and appearance, I realized that baby boo, without question, is the single ugliest possible term of endearment in existence... I also realized that it was hilarious. So, naturally, I ripped it off and started using it myself, claiming it as my own. I tested it out on a few good girl friends, and even on the casual date at times... and as suspected, with awe-inspiring unity, they too thought it was ridiculous and awkward... but, despite this opposition, it has remained a part of my irksome vocabulary to this day.

Today I was driving up to the University of Utah and out of nowhere a car blazed past me. I barely caught a glimpse of the driver, I want to say she was probably in her mid-50's?? I don't know for sure. But I also caught a glimpse of her license plate, as seen below. The Gods were good to me today as not only did I have my camera in my car, but I was also directly behind her at the next stop light. Obviously, I don't know her story. What I do know is somewhere out there somebody lovingly refers to her as Boo, and loves her enough to buy her a car.

I must say... if down the road my lover ever buys me a car, I can only hope the license plate contains something as amazing and embarrassing as Boo. I'd prefer Baby Boo, but... whatever...

Good morning... Lethargy.

2008-09-17T22:21:00.000-06:00

Long before your crusted, gross eyes squint open and you curse the beginnings of yet another new day, I have likely been up for hours carpe diem-ing and spreading Christmas cheer. That's why my closest friends call me "early-rising-ultra-cheerful-drew." Maybe that's a lie... Actually, that's a lie. I will probably always complain about the fact that I get up before the sun rises. But, the one thing I really do love about my early waking, is that I get to see the sun rise, and sometimes more impressive, the moon set. The last couple of mornings the setting moon amid the soft morning light has brought a smile to my lethargic, grizzled, prematurely wrinkled, acne covered face. How sad is that? I have premature eye wrinkles and acne at the same time. I'm some form of hybrid twenty-something-hipster-elderly-chow-monster... Oh well.

Anyway, I know the moon looks really small in these photos, but it actually was amazingly large, and almost buried in the city. I don't know how to capture that image accurately... I blame my cheap camera. But the next time the cruel world forces you to rise before the sun, think of me, and know that somewhere out in the mist, I am also awake, finishing up a cold bowl of porridge and rummaging around trying to figure out how to pull the sword from the stone. Life is beautiful.

Admittedly, Avowedly, Confessedly

2008-09-14T19:41:00.000-06:00

Since the peer-pressured conception of this blog, I have had the great pleasure of crossing paths with the handful of people that occasionally read my rampant happenings and thoughts. With great confidence I will claim that if you are reading this thing, at some point in our past we have laughed and shared some moments that changed our collective lives for the better. But it has come to my attention that many of you believe Harvey Ralph to be some form of invented Internet identity I hide behind... But the truth is, Harvey Ralph is real. In fact, I am Harvey Ralph.

My full name is Andrew Harvey Ralph Hansen. It's true. That is 23 letters, not including spaces, and an average of 5.75 letters per name. I was named after my great-grandpa Harvey Ralph Hansen. I have very vague memories of him from my youth, he died when I was quite young. From what I understand he was a great man, a business genius, and someone whose name I am proud to carry. But that was not always the case. I'm sure others of you out there with odd/unique names can share in my playground pain... kids are cruel. But I've grown up some and now find great joy in this shared name.

Below you'll find a photo of me and old man Harvey Ralph taken in my extreme infancy. I think I still have that shirt, I wear it on special occasions... it has some holes in the sleeves, but as many of you know, I am loyal to my goods.

Finally, the real purpose of this blog... An ode to you Harvey Ralph. One day in the not too distant future, when my old man knees, crooked spine, and weary frame are drowned by the sands of time, I will embrace death's tragic kiss... Perhaps you and I can sit down and enjoy a box of Cracker Jacks and pretend it's 1985. Hopefully in Heaven, the prizes found in the Cracker Jack boxes won't suck like they do here on earth. May you rest in peace.

Case Closed

2008-09-07T21:01:00.000-06:00

I've never claimed to be much of an intellect, but I think the following true story provides irrefutable evidence that I am in fact a genius.

I was hanging around at my house, eating some lunch, watching T.V. with my brother, nothing too wild. So I get up to go into the bathroom... and you know when you stand up too quick and blackness overtakes your eyes and you almost pass out? Well that happened... As I get to the doorway of our bathroom I lean up against the door frame because I'm in blackness vision mode... And I get the genius idea to squeeze my neck because I know this assists the passing out process. Next thing I know my brother Matt is shaking my crumpled body asking me if I'm alright... I was in a total daze and it seriously took several seconds to figure out which way was up... Apparently my squeeze effort worked and I passed out and hit my head on our sink leaving a pretty decent gash right in the middle of my forehead.

I know this was not a very wise thing to do, but I think it will pay off in the long run. As I was in a state of confusion I had a vision. This is not a joke either, I had a real vision... I've since developed my vision into a product I call The Flux Capacitor. I don't know for sure what to do with it yet, but I've installed it in my DeLorean that I keep out in the garage. I'm hoping the next time I neck squeeze myself and pass out I'll be able to fill in some of the hazy facts I can't remember clearly... I know something happens with 1.21 gigawatts, which is discouraging because, as a genius, I know that the only thing that could generate that level of power is a plutonium powered nuclear reactor, or maybe a bolt of lightning...

Probably took that one a little too far, but the moral of the story is clear: I am a genius. Anyway, here is my wound. It looks weaker in the photo, but believe me, for a bloody second it looked like a severe wound.

Consumer Report

2008-08-31T21:18:00.000-06:00

My fellow Americans, I consume an outrageous amount of goods. The large majority of these goods are probably unnecessary. Maybe you're the same as me, maybe you're not. But I've decided it's my civic duty to inform others of goods they should most certainly avoid.

The first product I would like to discourage consumption of is Old Spice Invisible Solid deodorant. I bought a stick of this deodorant a while back, kind of excited to test out a new scent and maybe even improve my quality of life. The next day I take a shower, feeling all fresh and clean I go into my room and put on my new deodorant... I then go back into the bathroom to check out my new and improved armpits... I have to be honest, they looked pretty gross. It was pretty much 100% solid and 0% invisible. I'm a little discouraged by this, but I'm a patient guy, and I figure that maybe if I give it an hour or two it's possible that it will clear up... you know, maybe it takes a while for the magic invisible potion to kick in. So I go about my day, tinkering around with stuff like usual, come back in a few hours and check things out... I lift up my shirt and it looked pretty much like I had tried to smuggle a Yogurt onto an airplane but it accidentally blew up in my armpit.

Needless to say, the next time you're at the grocery store thinking about testing out a new deodorant, may I recommend passing on the Old Spice "Invisible" Solid.

Update: The following products have let me down within the past two days:
1) Wrinkle free shirts. They totally get wrinkles.
2) Grapes. I bought some delicious looking grapes and they were full of seeds. I thought scientists got rid of seeds years ago.

Thank you and have a nice day.

Summer time and the living is... pretty bogus.

2008-08-30T01:27:00.000-06:00

I started school last week and a full time job two weeks ago. I've come to terms with the daunting fact that my summer, and perhaps more accurately my overall life in general, are pretty much over. But I'd like to make at least some attempt at reviewing the events of this past summer. I should preface this by saying that my memory and mind in general have been failing me lately, so what I actually recall could be interesting... But if it's one thing I'm known for, it's my optimism. That's why pretty much everyone calls me Optimistic Drew(or is it my sarcasm? I get those two attributes confused). Regardless, I will start with the good things.

Good Things That Happened This Summer: (In no particular order)

*I started writing and recording music again
*I started playing competitive soccer again
*A few random trips to a lake
*Camping with Ryan, James and Sean
*I ran my furthest measured consecutive distance... 10.5 miles. The sad thing is I did this because I was bored
*Ryan getting a new liver and the transplant going basically perfect
*Seeing Radiohead in San Francisco (blog coming shortly)
*Swimming at the Grand America Hotel several weekends in a row
*Moving out of my old gross apartment and into a pretty nice house
*Sarah's annual birthday BBQ was pretty funny
*The Arts Festival
*My trip to the Indian Reservation

Not So Good Things That Happened This Summer:

*Getting my tonsils out
*14 days of illness and the darkness that followed
*5 days of total insomnia that followed the 14 days of illness and darkness
*Getting laid off my old job
*Marginal depression, which I attribute to the several weeks of inability to leave my couch (see the above mentioned reasons as to why)
*Being unemployed (I know you think that it may sound nice, but really it's not. I would much rather be working)
*Feeling old. My knee seriously hurts right now for no identifiable reason. I also got a serious, and I mean serious, calf cramp on my trip to S.F. It was pretty funny. I was asleep and the cramp actually became part of my dream. But then I woke up and was it was rampant-calf-pain-city. I didn't really know how to respond, so I just held really still until it went away.
*Having to wake up at 6:20am pretty much every day from now on. It only took 5 work days for me to wake up before my alarm went off and feel ready to get out of bed. And now on weekends I wake up way early and am ready to conquer another day... but then I just sit there cause it's 7:00 am and really, what is there to do at that hour?

That's all I can think of right now. As the dust settles, I'd have to say this summer was decent at best. As an optimist I can only assume that the best days of my life are ahead of me. I plan on living to be 100 years old, which means there are many, many, great adventures yet to come. And to be honest, there will be probably be a few solid years of diapers there at the end. At least I have that to look forward to...

The Olden Days

2008-08-11T22:34:00.000-06:00

Oh young Drew... There is so much I wish I could tell you...

The Mullet: circa 2004

Reasons why this thing was amazing:
1) It was a perfect flat-top mullet. And this was way before mullets started to make their way back into the indie/emo/whatever scene. In fact, I probably was a major contributor to the mullet comeback.
2) I went into a beauty school to get this cut and the conversation went like this:
hair girl: What can I do for you today?
me: I'd like a mullet please.
hair girl: Seriously?
me: Yeah
hair girl: I don't know how to cut a mullet. I'll have to go get my instructor.
3) It made me outrageously insecure
4) I actually only had it for about a week... I was playing tennis and I heard some girls on the other court mocking me and I couldn't take it. I went over and explained that it was a joke and went home and cut it off. What a coward I was.

This was my long hair before the mullet. I really liked it, sans the fact that it took like 40 minutes and several hand/ear/neck burns to straighten on a daily basis. Hopefully that was my mid-life crisis. It was a rough year.

My Finest Apparel...

2008-08-11T17:41:00.000-06:00

I was tinkering around on my computer the other day and found this forgotten photo from 2006. This is me and my good friend Caitlin... I'm pretty sure this is the first day we met. But it's like I always say: There is no better way to test the bounds of a relationship than by jumping in a giant baby-blue baby suit the first time you meet someone.

Oddly enough, she didn't really like me at first... seriously. But like usual, she came around and now I consider her to be one of my finest friends. Sadly, she lives in Boston these days and our paths don't cross much.

And I hate to spoil the surprise, but I'm pretty sure I know what I'm going to be for Halloween this year... and pretty much every year from now on.

Soul Mate Surprise

2008-08-11T16:48:00.000-06:00

Should I be sad that I just turned 26 and I still consider a 41 year old man in a tin foil dress to be my soul mate?

Well, I'm not sad... and it is in fact true. Now that I'm an old man, the louder Pumpkins' songs have kind of lost their appeal. But I must say that I still find great peace amongst the lyrics and tones of the quieter songs... Of which, there is an extensive library that I would gladly direct you to.

This photo was taken at a show a couple nights ago. Sadly, it was across the country and I couldn't attend... But I must say that it really is great to see old Billy back in a dress. If I had it my way I'd spend the majority of my days in a long sleeved dark purple velvet Victorian style dress... But for different reasons, I settle for a plain grey shirt instead. Oh well.

Lately I just can't seem to believe...

2008-08-04T14:38:00.000-06:00

Last night Ashley and I worked for hours to produce this cover of "To Sheila" by the Smashing Pumpkins. In most cases I frown upon self promotion... but I must say that I am very pleased with this finished product. After great effort we discovered the ability to combine my recording equipment with her video equipment, and the result... well, I think it's beautiful. I hope you enjoy. We also decided we are going to start writing our own music and hopefully will be performing locally in the not too distant future. I'm quite excited about all of this. So yeah, enjoy...

Also, both of us have other videos up on Youtube, I'm pretty sure these links will take you there:

Drew: http://www.youtube.com/smokeypurplesmoke
Ashley: http://www.youtube.com/TRETZ12

The Big Tree

2008-07-31T20:44:00.000-06:00

For over a year I lived alone in a one bedroom apartment on beloved Park Street. There are many tales I could share from that street, including but definitely not limited to:

*Deaf/mute stare-through-your-soul-transvestite... Generally speaking, I've got no real problem with transvestites... if that's what you gotta do to get through the day, knock yourself out. But this guy/girl would seriously creep around all day in these little silky summer dresses. It was gross. If he/she saw you, and you happened to be foolish enough to make eye contact, it was over... she would just stare and you'd look back and she'd still be staring and you'd look back and she'd still be staring. It was terrible. I seriously felt violated by her, almost to an embarrassing degree. I should have called the cops.

*Old, extremely long bearded man in dead winter wearing slippers, board shorts, no shirt, and Santa hat screaming at the neighbors dog, informing it that if it didn't shut up Crazy Santa Beard Man was going to eat it...

I could go on, it was pretty ridiculous... But anyways, even though there were times of excitement, and times where I seriously feared for my life, there were also times of great boredom. Sunday afternoons proved to be the worst. To remedy this boredom I started going on long walks around the city. I tried to go new places each week, but usually ended up at the Hippie drum circle at Liberty Park. Well, one day I'm walking along and out of nowhere I see this enormous tree. Now I recognize that compared to the massive Redwoods in Northern California this thing may not really be that large... but relative to other trees in the area this thing really is a giant.

After several brainstorming sessions I named this big tree: The Big Tree. Since it's discovery in 2006, I've taken many of my friends to see it. For the most part, they have all been amazed. Those who have not been amazed.... well, they're cowards. It really does have a mystical feel about it. I have since learned that The Big Tree is believed to be 148 years old. Guaranteed the cure to polio and the recipe for the Colonel's Country Fried Chicken are amongst the many mysteries found in the inner rings of this wise old tree.

If you're ever in the area and feel the need to discover the mysteries of the universe, please call me and we'll walk over to The Big Tree. Believe me when I say it will change your life.

Love Lost...

2008-07-20T00:15:00.000-06:00

The other day I went horseback riding. I almost lost my life on two occasions, and after a near death trip through some thick trees, I was happy to come out seriously wounded, but alive... Sadly, my favorite shirt of all time was not so lucky. I have had this shirt for 7 years. Although it was old, and the elbows were worn out, I still loved it, and considered it my friend. But now it's gone... So here's to you old friend. You died an honorable death. The Korean children that worked so hard for 3 cents an hour to create you all those years ago would be proud. Peace be upon you.

However, this event has lead me to establish a new rule in life: If my shirt looks like Wesley's after getting eaten by a giant rat in the fire swamp, it's probably time to retire it. Farewell + Goodnight.

The Great Outdoors

2008-07-15T23:54:00.000-06:00

Growing up I hated scouts. By no means was I opposed to those who chose to participate, and truth be told, I had no real, justifiable reason for this hatred... Let's just say it wasn't for me, and I quit when I was about 13. Since that time, I have claimed that if you put me in the woods with ten Eagle scouts, guaranteed I will live longer and more comfortably than 87% of them. That's right, 87% of ten. My fishing trip to Utah Lake last week is further evidence of this claim... I caught two fish. One Mud-cat and one White Bass. Due to the high mercury content, the good people over at the Utah Division of Wildlife recommend eating no more than 3 fish per month from Utah Lake... So if you're diet is lacking mercury, call me up and we'll hit the lake. I can still put one more fish in my belly before the mercury damages my central nervous system beyond repair.

Here is photographic proof of my success:

**Photo Disclaimer: If you were a parent and I was your kid's scout master, and you were to judge me strictly from this photo, I'd understand if you felt pretty uncomfortable. Although in this particular photo I look like a guy who has a pile of dead cats in his trunk, I assure you that I'm actually a pretty reasonable fellow.
**Blog Correction: I did NOT eat either of the fish I caught. Furthermore, if you are eating fish out of Utah Lake... Please stop. Let's go to Arby's and I'll buy you Five for Five roast beef sandwiches.

My Musical Blood

2008-07-15T21:44:00.000-06:00

Here is a cover of 9 Crimes by Damien Rice performed by the lovely, lovely, lovely Ashley, and the marginally attractive Drew. Praise be given to her grandparents for allowing us to use their piano, and for treating us to the Italian version of Sizzler. Anyway, enjoy...

My Indian Blood

2008-07-13T23:17:00.000-06:00

About two months ago I got my tonsils out... it was terrible. I often joke about things ruining my life that don't really ruin it... well, this ruined my life for real. I didn't leave the couch at my gross apartment seriously for ten days because I felt so sick... Waking up to a tub of jello every morning doesn't exactly bolster your spirits either. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure I was depressed and I needed something to turn me into resurrected Drew. Turns out a trip to a Navajo Indian Reservation in New Mexico was exactly what I needed. I'm pretty much an indian now...

Although there were countless amazing tales I could share, I will limit this entry to the following 2 major events:

Event 1: The Throat Slitting

The purpose of this trip was to build a garage for my friend's grandma. The first day we were there she comes out of her surprisingly nice home and tells me and my friend, the Mestizo, that she need our help. We jump in the back of her truck and travel about a mile and a half up a dusty road to the next closest house. Running around in a large caged area is a lone sheep. It's a pretty big dude as well. Me, the Mestizo, and two 12 year old kids have the task of running this thing down. It came at me with aggression a few times, but at this point I was still a white man, and I didn't know how to respond... so I just let it run by me... I was pretty much there for redirecting purposes. Finally, after about 10 minutes of running around, one of the 12 year old kids grabs this thing by it's back leg and we take it down. After hog tying it, and tossing it in the back of the truck, we travel another mile or so to the next closest house. There waiting for us are two 80 year old ladies. We take the sheep out of the truck and put it on the ground... I swear that thing knew what was coming... I sat back and watched as my Indian Grandma and the other 2 old (seriously old) ladies approached the sheep, grab the sheep by the neck, and with a kitchen knife begin sawing the neck. Keep in mind that this thing was still alive... surprisingly, it was a cowardly sheep and didn't put up much of a fight... but I will never forget the gargly blood spatting sound as they sawed all the way to the back of the spine and then snapped its neck... Pretty sure that's going to haunt me for some time to come. Four hours later, I was staring at a Rack o' Ribs that belonged to that blood gargling sheep....The most amazing thing was how casual the old ladies were about it. I know it's their way of life, but seriously, that is not normal to me... Well, it wasn't. But now that I'm an indian I can take it.

Event 2: Catapillar Attack

The first night we arrived I walked over to my bedroom window and moved the sheet that was serving as our blinds. To my surprise, a dead tick fell onto the floor. I'm not a big fan of ticks, or any other bug that can burrow it's head into my body and drink my blood... So from that moment on, I very deliberately shook all my bedding, clothes, shoes, hat, work gloves etc. before putting them on, to make sure they were not full of unwanted creatures. The very last day we were there, I put my work glove on to finish the last 3 hours of work. After a minute or two I noticed a weird pain on my right middle finger. I pulled off my glove and saw two dime size patches of what looked like a million black slivers. We had actually been working with some black wood, so I figured it had to be from that.... but it didn't make sense. After working for some time to get the slivers out, I go back to work and put on my glove. This time, there was no mistake, I could feel a creature squishing around on my thumb. So I freak out, pull off my glove and find a big, black, gnarly looking catapillar. Now I know what you are thinking... A catapillar? That's weak. Well, this guy wasn't weak. He was a mean looking creepster. Seeing as how we were in the middle of the desert I was somewhat concerned that this thing could be poisonous... So I went and asked the indians... they made fun of me, which I assumed meant that it wasn't poisonous. The trip ends and I go home and think everything is normal. After about ten days I'm sitting on my couch and notice some pain in my finger. I look at the back side of my finger and it was seriously boily mcboil. It looked like it had been dropped in the same acid that burned the Jokers face... I kind of panicked, but then just picked at it for a while. I went to bed and woke up and it was still blistered pretty bad. But now, after a few weeks of healing, it actually looks pretty normal, and I can only assume I will be fine. Worst case I die. Second to worse case is I lose my finger and have to get a wood one. Which I actually wound't mind too much, I could be like Margot Tenenbaum.

Anyway, I am now an Indian. Here are a few photos from my adventure.