Hello.
It's finals week. I also got an iPad for my birthday. It is a week of F words. Finals. FIFA on the iPad. And... well, whatever other F words you wish to include.
FIFA my teams have been West Ham United in the Premiere League, Ipswich City in the FA Champions League, and Côte d'Ivoire for everything else.
Drogba!
Well, that's all I had.
Love,
Zac
Monday, December 10, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Moody's Corner - Little Things
It's been a while since I last posted and we're all very sorry. Well those of us who still post are anyway. Finals are coming up soon so I'm gonna keep this one short and sweet. Here's a list of little things that bother me:
1. Sharing spoons and straws.
Forks, knives, and sporks are all fine. Somehow it's the idea of having to share a utensil that is used mostly by pressing one's lips against it really bothers me. I won't even share spoons with my immediate family.
2. When someone licks my ice cream.
Again this goes back to the spoon idea. No one else's tongue belongs on my delectable combination of sugar, dairy, and rainbows.
3. When people make gross sounds with their mouths.
What is worse than someone smacking their lips or swishing goodness-knows-what inside their mouths when I'm close enough to hear it? The answer is bad haircuts. Or someone licking my ice cream. But that's it! It's like, the third worst sound in existence.
4. Someone arguing with me about a topic that is purely opinion based.
Now I don't mean those fun arguments that occur just for the humor of the situation. For example people arguing that country music is good is just hilarious. I'm talking about someone arguing with me that The Hills is a good show. Or that Twilight is well written. That's up to you. It really doesn't matter to me what your opinion on the subject is, so why would you care if I dislike it?
5. Poor grammar or spelling on facebook.
I am a total hypocrite on this one. My English is still elementary at best. But when someone posts a status on facebook that looks like this:
Read that status of the guy whose name is in black and burred. He spelled basically everything wrong.
As a disclaimer I definitely spelled something wrong or used poor grammar at some point in this tirade. Haters gonna hate I guess. Or maybe YOLO is appropriate in this situation... I really don't get YOLO still.
6. YOLO
What does that even mean? You only live once right? Shouldn't that mean you take care of yourself better and don't participate in stupid activities? Oh well.
7. Instagram.
I never get as many likes as my artistically filtered photos of food deserve.
8. Bros.
If your door has a sign on it that says, "No fat chicks," I don't like you. I use the term 'bro' as a replacement for a more offensive, yet situationally appropriate word that I won't put up on the interwebs.
9. Smells
My nose is somewhat sensitive to scents and odors. I don't like things that smell bad. Or things that smell too strongly. Examples include paint, garbage, sewage, and that smell of potatoes that have been rotting on the floor for 2 months.
10. When people list their grievances.
... Dang it.
If you're taking the time to read this then you're the best internet followers I've ever had and I love you very much.
Wish us all luck with finals!
Moody
UPDATE:
This girl is trying sticking up for bad spelling, and we can't have that can we?
1. Sharing spoons and straws.
Forks, knives, and sporks are all fine. Somehow it's the idea of having to share a utensil that is used mostly by pressing one's lips against it really bothers me. I won't even share spoons with my immediate family.
2. When someone licks my ice cream.
Again this goes back to the spoon idea. No one else's tongue belongs on my delectable combination of sugar, dairy, and rainbows.
3. When people make gross sounds with their mouths.
What is worse than someone smacking their lips or swishing goodness-knows-what inside their mouths when I'm close enough to hear it? The answer is bad haircuts. Or someone licking my ice cream. But that's it! It's like, the third worst sound in existence.
4. Someone arguing with me about a topic that is purely opinion based.
Now I don't mean those fun arguments that occur just for the humor of the situation. For example people arguing that country music is good is just hilarious. I'm talking about someone arguing with me that The Hills is a good show. Or that Twilight is well written. That's up to you. It really doesn't matter to me what your opinion on the subject is, so why would you care if I dislike it?
I am a total hypocrite on this one. My English is still elementary at best. But when someone posts a status on facebook that looks like this:
Read that status of the guy whose name is in black and burred. He spelled basically everything wrong.
As a disclaimer I definitely spelled something wrong or used poor grammar at some point in this tirade. Haters gonna hate I guess. Or maybe YOLO is appropriate in this situation... I really don't get YOLO still.
6. YOLO
What does that even mean? You only live once right? Shouldn't that mean you take care of yourself better and don't participate in stupid activities? Oh well.
7. Instagram.
I never get as many likes as my artistically filtered photos of food deserve.
8. Bros.
If your door has a sign on it that says, "No fat chicks," I don't like you. I use the term 'bro' as a replacement for a more offensive, yet situationally appropriate word that I won't put up on the interwebs.
9. Smells
My nose is somewhat sensitive to scents and odors. I don't like things that smell bad. Or things that smell too strongly. Examples include paint, garbage, sewage, and that smell of potatoes that have been rotting on the floor for 2 months.
10. When people list their grievances.
... Dang it.
If you're taking the time to read this then you're the best internet followers I've ever had and I love you very much.
Wish us all luck with finals!
Moody
UPDATE:
This girl is trying sticking up for bad spelling, and we can't have that can we?
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesdays with Ian - Keep Your Options Open?
Every time I am compelled to order something at a restaurant with more than 3 things on the menu (ie hamburger, cheeseburger, bacon burger), it necessitates an almost unparalleled herculean act of decision-making and resolve. And even with only three choices, it can get pretty complicated. Am I willing to spend more money on extra strips of bacon in order to satisfy my appetite for grease and fatty meat or will I be equally satisfied with the normal hamburger at a reduced cost? The repercussions of a misstep or poor decision could be too ghastly to contemplate or, as I learned in Chinese class the other day, 不堪设想。
Judging by the paralysis induced by as simple a decision such as the aforementioned entree selection, just imagine the abject trepidation caused by a vastly more important decision, such as deciding whether Colgate is the brand of toothpaste for me or if Crest is more favorable choice where my dental hygiene is concerned.
In all seriousness though, to be a young university student in the 21st century is to navigate an ocean of decisions about the future in a 1-man rowboat of experience. In a biological sense, I am a stem-cell attempting to determine what course of differentiation will lead to fulfillment, satisfaction and future self-actualization. Do I want to be a heart-tissue cell, skin cell, brain cell, muscle cell? Musician, dermatologist, rocket scientist, mechanical engineer? The possibilities are endless... but the question is, which is best?
Here's another question. Does it matter that much? Sometimes I wish it was just like the old days and you did whatever your father did and called it quits. Who says my life wouldn't be just as happy and fulfilling if I was a blacksmith like my good ol' pop! (He's not really a blacksmith if you're wondering...) Or a farmer or doctor or whatever. The point is, in a world of outsourcing and specialization, why can't decision-making be left to some omniscient, benevolent being bent on our eternal welfare?
Unfortunately, said all-knowing being likely understands the importance of me making decisions on my own.
Bottom line is: I have far too many options.
Judging by the paralysis induced by as simple a decision such as the aforementioned entree selection, just imagine the abject trepidation caused by a vastly more important decision, such as deciding whether Colgate is the brand of toothpaste for me or if Crest is more favorable choice where my dental hygiene is concerned.
In all seriousness though, to be a young university student in the 21st century is to navigate an ocean of decisions about the future in a 1-man rowboat of experience. In a biological sense, I am a stem-cell attempting to determine what course of differentiation will lead to fulfillment, satisfaction and future self-actualization. Do I want to be a heart-tissue cell, skin cell, brain cell, muscle cell? Musician, dermatologist, rocket scientist, mechanical engineer? The possibilities are endless... but the question is, which is best?
Here's another question. Does it matter that much? Sometimes I wish it was just like the old days and you did whatever your father did and called it quits. Who says my life wouldn't be just as happy and fulfilling if I was a blacksmith like my good ol' pop! (He's not really a blacksmith if you're wondering...) Or a farmer or doctor or whatever. The point is, in a world of outsourcing and specialization, why can't decision-making be left to some omniscient, benevolent being bent on our eternal welfare?
Unfortunately, said all-knowing being likely understands the importance of me making decisions on my own.
Bottom line is: I have far too many options.
 |
| Oh if only the air was this clear... |
Monday, December 3, 2012
Comeback
Dear Folks,
I have been slacking on posting my regular Monday blog post. My deepest and most sincere apologies to people that wait around for Mondays just to read my mediocre writing. I know that this is a small group, so, I also extend my apology to all who may read this.
But, this has inspired me for my post today. My comeback post...
I have been slacking on posting my regular Monday blog post. My deepest and most sincere apologies to people that wait around for Mondays just to read my mediocre writing. I know that this is a small group, so, I also extend my apology to all who may read this.
But, this has inspired me for my post today. My comeback post...
LL Cool J said it best...
The Red Sox did it in 2004, coming back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Yankees in the ALCS en route to their World Series Title to end "the curse."
AC/DC did it after the death of lead singer Bon Scott with Brian Johnson and Back In Black
"Don't call it a comeback,"
Zac
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Tuesdays with Ian - Productivity
"What the deuce am I doing?"
Finding myself awake at 8AM on Friday morning, eyes adjusting to rays of early sunlight streaming through the window, fingers throbbing and still clutching to the xbox controller that had kept me alive during the sleepless night of frantic zombie apocalypse survival, I had little choice but to ask the above question.
Although I realize many likely take offense at the coarse diction of the above sentence ("deuce"), there come times when we all have to ask it of ourselves. Although it could, of course, refer to any number of ridiculous behaviors/unwise decisions, I'm going to talk a little about how it relates to the concept of "productivity."
I don't know about you, but I find myself having to regularly assess the "productivity" of my behavior. And although I often do so, I seldom consider what productivity really is and whether it's even a good idea at all.
Some of my first experiences with the term "productive" stem from my interactions with my parents, who are among the most "productive" people I know and consistently urge me in a similar direction. But let's take a moment and consider the meaning of the word.
Dictionary.com says "having the power of producing" which is entirely unhelpful. Producing, then, is defined as "being productive"... which causes me to wonder if the editors of dictionary.com might have spent a little too much time playing xbox and not enough doing their job... ok just kidding. It's actually "to bring into existence by intellectual or creative activity." Okay.
Adolf Hitler. Now there was a productive guy. He actually managed to bring unemployment in Germany down to 0% for a time. How's that for productivity? And how about all that forced slave labor? You can bet that sure cut down big time on unproductive activities like laughing or eating. Or sleeping.
Based on this example, we can conclude productivity to be an evil practice resulting in the pain and misery of millions.
Many of you might argue that a sample size of one is hardly sufficient to draw conclusions from. Fine. Let me double the sample size: Joseph Stalin. Booyah.
Frankly speaking, from some perspectives, life can be pretty pointless. Consider, for example, making your bed. My clever counter-argument to my parents'' admonitions to make my bed was that I would be sleeping in it again in probably less than 16 hours thereby rendering such an activity a complete waste of my time. I guess we could consider the bed manufacturer at least as a productive agent in the equation. But who's to say I wouldn't be better off just sleeping on the ground? It could, after all, be better for my back.
In any case, it could be argued that everything we do is a pointless waste of time. In which case, it may be appropriate to question why I am even engaging in an activity that so dangerously resembles bringing something into existence by intellectual or creative means... I could be killing zombies right now.
Finding myself awake at 8AM on Friday morning, eyes adjusting to rays of early sunlight streaming through the window, fingers throbbing and still clutching to the xbox controller that had kept me alive during the sleepless night of frantic zombie apocalypse survival, I had little choice but to ask the above question.
Although I realize many likely take offense at the coarse diction of the above sentence ("deuce"), there come times when we all have to ask it of ourselves. Although it could, of course, refer to any number of ridiculous behaviors/unwise decisions, I'm going to talk a little about how it relates to the concept of "productivity."
I don't know about you, but I find myself having to regularly assess the "productivity" of my behavior. And although I often do so, I seldom consider what productivity really is and whether it's even a good idea at all.
Some of my first experiences with the term "productive" stem from my interactions with my parents, who are among the most "productive" people I know and consistently urge me in a similar direction. But let's take a moment and consider the meaning of the word.
Dictionary.com says "having the power of producing" which is entirely unhelpful. Producing, then, is defined as "being productive"... which causes me to wonder if the editors of dictionary.com might have spent a little too much time playing xbox and not enough doing their job... ok just kidding. It's actually "to bring into existence by intellectual or creative activity." Okay.
Adolf Hitler. Now there was a productive guy. He actually managed to bring unemployment in Germany down to 0% for a time. How's that for productivity? And how about all that forced slave labor? You can bet that sure cut down big time on unproductive activities like laughing or eating. Or sleeping.
Based on this example, we can conclude productivity to be an evil practice resulting in the pain and misery of millions.
Many of you might argue that a sample size of one is hardly sufficient to draw conclusions from. Fine. Let me double the sample size: Joseph Stalin. Booyah.
Frankly speaking, from some perspectives, life can be pretty pointless. Consider, for example, making your bed. My clever counter-argument to my parents'' admonitions to make my bed was that I would be sleeping in it again in probably less than 16 hours thereby rendering such an activity a complete waste of my time. I guess we could consider the bed manufacturer at least as a productive agent in the equation. But who's to say I wouldn't be better off just sleeping on the ground? It could, after all, be better for my back.
In any case, it could be argued that everything we do is a pointless waste of time. In which case, it may be appropriate to question why I am even engaging in an activity that so dangerously resembles bringing something into existence by intellectual or creative means... I could be killing zombies right now.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Moody's Corner - For the Candy
Nice short one today everyone, Blickenstaff's Toy Store will give you free candy if you post their a link to their store on a blog so here it goes:https://www.facebook.com/Blickenstaffs
http://www.shopsatriverwoods.com/shopping/blickenstaffs.html
Blickenstaff's sells great candy, ranging from your traditional chocolate covered what-nots to more exotic gummy strawberries (which happens to be Carleigh's favorite). They're located in the Riverwood shopping complex in Provo, Utah and I highly recommend at least sampling some of their merchandise. Enjoy!!!
Also guys it's almost thanksgiving, and as you all should know, Thanksgiving happens to be my favorite holiday! WOOTWOOT.
Peace,
Moody
Monday, November 12, 2012
Veteran's Day Satire
Dear Folks,
Communism and the Caribbean have had a love affair and tale that is as old as time (and song as old as rhyme). But many of you are wondering, why the Caribbean?
Communism has its roots set in the bleak Prusso-German region of Europe (Karl Marx) and it eventually made its way out east to the even bleaker Russian landscape. After attempts to market itself to the world, Communism found China and Vietnam. The only problem with all of these places is that they are not the greatest tourist attracting venues. ("Welcome to Mother Russia; where the only thing colder than the vodka is the people." or "Good Morning Vietnam! Where the smell of napalm never ceases...Pho." or "China Wercomes You! You no come no reave fo' many dynasties...[Except Ian]"). The Communist gods frowned with shame as their empire was not attractive to outsiders (or insiders). Not only were they in the most miserable of climates, they would be trounced in Olympic track events as well (but not hockey or gymnastics, "You do flips or KGB fires"). But, somehow, they saw the peaceful isles of the Caribbean, and it was a match made in Leningrad. Sprinters and wonderful sub-tropical climate galore!
Since the early 20th century, Cuba was a breeding spot for socialist indoctrination (for exact facts and dates, see Wikipedia). Cuba is a beautiful island with beaches that could be filled with the proletariat and socialist elites as far as the eye could see. Communism had found its promised land. In 1961, Fidel Castro finally came out of the socioeconomic closet by openly declaring himself as a Marxist-Leninist (and the birth of the CCCP, "The Cute Cuban Communist Party" is what it translates to in English). Then, shortly after that in 1962, something called the Cuban Missile Crisis happened. After many talks of "red buttons" and "anti-red, pinko, Commi buttons" to be pushed, eventually, none of said buttons were pushed and there was a cooling down in the Cold War (but not the Havanna night life, ay Papi!).
Blah, blah, blah, we fast forward to 1983, when Communists try to extend their evil red grasp upon another Caribbean nation, Grenada (also known as the Spice Island, apparently not only are the people bland in the Soviet Union and China, but so is the food). But you know what happened next? That's right...
So, American troops land and stave off a military coup with help from other Eastern Caribbean nations, thus, containing the Communists to Cuba... and that's it! As a result, the travel and tourism industry as well as the Olympic medal counts stay in a healthy balance.
In conclusion, the Communists wanted the Caribbean to increase their tourist attractiveness and to gain an edge in Olympic track and field sprint events... The End
Veterans, we salute you!
Zipson
In honor of Veteran's Day (Happy Veteran's Day), I get to tell war stories... real war stories (not really).
(The following is a satire and is only mostly true)
"Communism in the Caribbean: What's Up With That?"
Communism and the Caribbean have had a love affair and tale that is as old as time (and song as old as rhyme). But many of you are wondering, why the Caribbean?
Communism has its roots set in the bleak Prusso-German region of Europe (Karl Marx) and it eventually made its way out east to the even bleaker Russian landscape. After attempts to market itself to the world, Communism found China and Vietnam. The only problem with all of these places is that they are not the greatest tourist attracting venues. ("Welcome to Mother Russia; where the only thing colder than the vodka is the people." or "Good Morning Vietnam! Where the smell of napalm never ceases...Pho." or "China Wercomes You! You no come no reave fo' many dynasties...[Except Ian]"). The Communist gods frowned with shame as their empire was not attractive to outsiders (or insiders). Not only were they in the most miserable of climates, they would be trounced in Olympic track events as well (but not hockey or gymnastics, "You do flips or KGB fires"). But, somehow, they saw the peaceful isles of the Caribbean, and it was a match made in Leningrad. Sprinters and wonderful sub-tropical climate galore!
Since the early 20th century, Cuba was a breeding spot for socialist indoctrination (for exact facts and dates, see Wikipedia). Cuba is a beautiful island with beaches that could be filled with the proletariat and socialist elites as far as the eye could see. Communism had found its promised land. In 1961, Fidel Castro finally came out of the socioeconomic closet by openly declaring himself as a Marxist-Leninist (and the birth of the CCCP, "The Cute Cuban Communist Party" is what it translates to in English). Then, shortly after that in 1962, something called the Cuban Missile Crisis happened. After many talks of "red buttons" and "anti-red, pinko, Commi buttons" to be pushed, eventually, none of said buttons were pushed and there was a cooling down in the Cold War (but not the Havanna night life, ay Papi!).
Blah, blah, blah, we fast forward to 1983, when Communists try to extend their evil red grasp upon another Caribbean nation, Grenada (also known as the Spice Island, apparently not only are the people bland in the Soviet Union and China, but so is the food). But you know what happened next? That's right...
AMERICA!
So, American troops land and stave off a military coup with help from other Eastern Caribbean nations, thus, containing the Communists to Cuba... and that's it! As a result, the travel and tourism industry as well as the Olympic medal counts stay in a healthy balance.
Hazzah for Grenada!
Veterans, we salute you!
Zipson
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