In the Last Days...

A writer for Slate said this about Mormon culture. Interesting.

If I had a million minutes...

I think I might try to write a few books. Not because I think I could write them well (I don't have the raw talent for that, which is why I work in the business world), but because I think it would be fun.

The first few books I would write:

From Deacon to Dating: A Guide for LDS Teenagers. I would write this in a style much different than, say, a John Bytheway book. There'd be a lot of lists. Practical pointers. Tips. I think the style would be like a modern men's magazine (not a dirty men's magazine, but something like Esquire, GQ or ESPN:The Magazine).

A satire of LDS romantic fiction/anything that Stephanie Meyer writes. Self-explanatory. Have you read that stuff? Someone needs to respond.

I've Been Everywhere, Man A book about truck drivers. There's gotta be some cool stories floating out there. Heck, I could even write a memoir. Quit my job as an accountant and drive truck for a year across the country. Learn Trucker Talk. Freight turnips and trusses and plastic combs across the continent. If at all possible, the book would have a foreword by C.W. McCall (unless he's dead).

Brothers don't shake, brothers gotta...

Crazy.

NY Senkyoshi

I loved this. Watch it.

9/9/09

I coulda sworn that I joked with a friend of mine of the fairer sex back in the day that we would get married on

9/9/09.

Or was it 8/8/08? Maybe 7/7/2007?

Huh. Well. Whoops. Missed that hay ride.

Here's to the auspicious 10/10/10, 11/11/11, or 12/12/12.

Pro's Ranch Market

At the advice of my aunt, I stopped by Pro's Ranch Markets, a big-box Mexican grocery store on Southern and Stapley.

If you go on a Saturday, be prepared for pandemonium. Key limes, 99 cents for four pounds? Beans selling in giant bins by the truckload? Tortilla machines operating with six-sigma efficiency? Puts Food City to south-of-the-border shame.

When I saw massive barbecue racks smoke firing chicken outside, I knew had I found my new favorite food store. My hypothesis was only confirmed when I encountered a pastry aisle, tropical fruit drink bar, and "deli" that really should be classified as its own Mexican restaurant. And that was just one third of the floor space!

I might have been the only white guy in the building. I bought a bag of beans, some garlic, peppers, and freshly made tortillas. I think I also bought a grapefruit soda called something in Spanish that I can't now, even one day later, remember.

And I might have even made a friend. As I was eating in the crowded food court (ahh the Pro Ranch cooked food! My new favorite Mexican restaurant--in a grocery store!), an older man with a Nacho Libre mustache noticed me devouring a smoke-grilled chicken burrito a little too quickly. He saw that I didn't have any napkins, and so he grabbed a few out of his bale-sized stack and handed them over towards my plate. I don't think he spoke English, and I can't speak a lick of Spanish, but we shared a moment of instant understanding--good food like this, on a crazy, crowded day like today, needs a coupla napkins.

Have someone in coach fiddle for me...

I know I'm a few years late, but I love this article.