Rantings of Stu

I remember a time when you would visit the Sconecutter in Orem late at night (which I often did back in the day when I worked graveyards) and there would be several questionable looking fellows working the drive thru. Thing was, these long-haired druggy looking freaks took the greatest of care in putting your order together. No finer sandwiches were ever built!

But now, thanks to a little economic downturn, more people are willing to accept the graveyard shift what with employment opportunities being limited. This has resulted in “cleaner” looking persons being hired to run the graveyard shift at the Sconecutter.

No sooner had the Sconecutter begun to hire these “cleaner” looking (albeit, I’ve noticed, far less professional) persons when the service started to go to pot (uh, as in bad, not as in the employees were smoking pot… that probably would have been a good thing).

An actual conversation that my wife had with the drive-thru operator on August 31, 2009 at approximately 22:00 hours (that’s 10 pm for all you weirdos out there) as best as I can recall:

Us: Hi, I’d like a ham, egg, and cheese platter on white with spicy fries and a Dr. Pepper.
Them: Ok, in a platter?
Us: Yes.
Them: Spicy or regular fries?
Us: Spicy.
Them: What drink?
Us: Dr. Pepper.
Them: Okay, what half sandwich did you want?

In all the years that my wife and I had eaten at the Sconecutter, we had never heard of any menu item called a “half sandwich”

Us: What?
Them: What half sandwich did you want?

This naturally confused my wife because she hadn’t ordered a “half sandwich”

Us: Uh… what half sandwich?
Them: You know, [rattles off some of the sandwich items from the menu].
Us: Oh. Ham, egg, and cheese.
Them: White or wheat bread?
Us: White.
Them: Anything else?
Us: A honey-butter scone on white.
Them: A cinnamon honey-butter scone?
Us: No, a honey-butter scone. Just honey butter.
Them: Okay, a cinnamon honey-butter scone. White or wheat?
Us: No, just honey butter.
Them: Okay, honey-butter scone. Wheat bread?
Us: White.
Them: Wheat?
Us: No, white.
Them: Okay, so I’ve got a ham, egg, and cheese half sandwich in a platter with spicy fries and a Dr. Pepper and one cinnamon honey-butter scone?
Us: *SIGH* Yes.

Turns out a half-sandwich, as you might have guessed, is a kid-sized sandwich, more like a third of a sandwich. So I ate that in about three bites and tried to enjoy my Dr. Pepper and fries while my wife ate her cinnamon honey-butter scone.

To the Sconecutter in Orem I say, “Bring back the questionable-looking sandwich makers! They always got my order right and always made my sandwich look like the picture!”

It’s been awhile since I posted cell phone pictures. I’ve gotten a few good ones since that time, so here they are.

To start things off, what would you expect if you ordered a chicken nugget kid’s meal from Burger King? Probably not what I got when I did the same:

Not enough for me to stop loving the Burger King. After all, it’s not his fault minimum wage doesn’t buy good help. Speaking of which, minimum wage quality employees probably explain this next one, taken in the K-Mart toys section:

Bet you didn’t know you can buy dinosaur butts, huh? Okay, so enough ripping on the minimum wagers. I had one of those jobs once. Err… twice, three times? Plenty of them anyway.

Well, let’s see what else I got here. Hey, how would you feel about eating this egg?

Which came first: the retarded chicken, or the retarded chicken egg?

Let me ask you a question. What do you imagine when you think about U.S. Marines? Manly men? Heart breakers and life takers? Or hot pink girly letters?

You gotta be one BAD ASS Marine to have enough courage to put that on your car. Oh yeah, and that’s a manly Dodge Charger those letters are on.

As long as we’re looking at patriots:

Dude, what’s with the upsidedown flag? Proper flag etiquette states that you only display the flag upside down under conditions of “dire distress.” Well, the driver was pretty old. Maybe for him, that’s direly distressful.

Now that we’ve moved on to disrespect, how about a little disrespect of city property:

Hmm… now that I think about it, having Dwight painted on you would be considered an honor in some circles.

So there you have it folks. Pictures right off my cell phone — believe it or not. For past episodes:

Episode 1
Episode 2

Until next time…

A coworker recently asked, “I want to know how to ask people about their guns. Do you ask people about their guns? Where they keep them? How accessible they are? Are they loaded?”

I read the many responses and began to formulate my own response… which turned out to be WAAAAY too long. So I decided to respond here on my blog. If you need help falling asleep tonight, please feel free to read on.

I always hear people say they don’t understand why anybody needs this or that type of gun. Well, for me, shooting guns is sport. I only hunt paper, soda cans, old phone books, and water melons.

I grew up with guns which were used in sport. Self defense is pretty low on the list of reasons why I own guns. I took a martial arts class for that. I own guns because I enjoy shooting them and I’m good at it. I was high shooter in my USMC boot camp platoon. And let me tell you, I LOVED firing the M-16. Hitting the bulls eye 10x in a row at 500 yards and no scope? Oh yeah, that was a gratifying feeling to know I did that and nobody else did. I would love to own one.

No reason to own assault rifles you say? Of course not! There’s also no reason to own a 70″ TV, sports car, cat, dog, horse, basketball, baseball bat, etc. But people get them because they want them. I can kill a man with a baseball bat. Hell, I know how to kill a man with my bare hand. I know people who have killed with a shovel (servicemen who did so during combat). But nobody is trying to restrict sales of baseball bats, shovels, or trying to stop me from studying martial arts.

A person plays baseball because they enjoy it, and therefore owns the equipment that goes with that sport. If I were still physically able to fire an assault rifle, you better believe I’d own a few because they are tons of fun.

A friend once asked me point blank about my guns, just out of nowhere. Asked me how I stored them, etc. I had no problems at all discussing it with him so he could understand that he would be safe in my home and not have to worry about me or anybody else accidentally shooting him up.

I’ll also say that I’m a proponent of requiring a gun license. That teenage boy that recently shot and killed his friend? Would never happen in any responsible gun owner’s home. To start with, the boy should have understood that he is not allowed to ever touch something that dangerous. My father grew up with guns in the house. He never once touched them because he understood they were not his to touch. And more importantly, he should have understood that all guns are to be treated at all times as if they are loaded.

Secondly, that gun should not have been loaded. Why in the world would you keep a loaded, chambered gun in the house like that?! Police did not say whether the gun was brought into the home or if it was already in the home. But if it was brought in, then the next point comes up.

Thirdly, the gun should have been locked up. Even if the child understands to never touch it, why play with fire like that? Why risk a neighbor kid, who is not trained about gun safety, coming in and finding it? If you are really that paranoid about having some bad guy come into your home, there are specialized gun safes that allow you to get into them quickly while keeping others out. Even then, don’t have it loaded. Leaving the chamber open with the clip next to it allows you to quickly load and chamber the weapon.

Or just get a concealed carry permit so the gun is on you rather than sitting in your unlocked desk drawer. I mean, seriously. Imagine coming home and being held up by a burglar who is using your gun because you’re not smart enough to lock it away! If your kid can find it, then I’m sure a burglar can.

My kids learn to shoot my guns. And in so doing, they learn to fear them just like me, just like my father, just like my grandfather. They learn that every gun is loaded, no matter if the chamber is open and there isn’t a bullet in sight. There are too many people out there who do not fear guns, and thus leave them easily accessible — loaded and chambered even?! — for their teenage boy to play with like it’s a toy and end up killing someone with it. Tragically, that boy (and hopefully his parents and everybody in that room) just got the lesson of his life about gun safety. It’s too bad that someone had to die for him to learn that lesson. If you are going to own something that was specifically designed to kill people, then you should prove that you are responsible by taking a class and getting an ownership license.

Because they don’t require that, you have no idea if your neighbor is a responsible gun owner or not. Ask them point blank if they own a gun, and if so, how they store it and ask them if they’ll agree to never take it out of lockup while your kids are over. If they get defensive, then better safe than sorry. My experience has been that the more defensive they get about their guns, the more likely they are to be irresponsible with them. Some people are just looking for an excuse to shoot somebody up. I might be one of those people. You simply can’t know for sure.

I would have no problem with a neighbor deciding to not allow his or her children in my home based solely on the knowledge that I own a gun, despite knowing there’s no way anybody other than myself can get to it or to the bullets (which I store in a separate location). I take no offense to that.

I didn’t join the service to fight for the restriction of one’s opinion of me. Some people think their service gives them that right. Nobody fought for the flag as you’ll often hear said. They fought for what it stands for. That includes the right to be afraid to let your kids in my home, no matter the reason.

I would also like to respond to everybody who’s freaking out about the “new administration trying to take away their guns.” Seems like people are running out to stock up on bullets and guns before our new president does something nasty. These people scare me the most.

Do people realize that gun ownership is protected by the constitution and would require a two-thirds majority vote in both houses (senate and congress) PLUS be ratified by THREE-FOURTHS of the individual states to change that? Do they realize that the Supreme Court just set an incredible precedent by ruling that Washington DC’s ban on pistols was unconstitutional? Do they realize the President has no role in the amendment process? Seriously people. Your gun rights are not in danger.

Stop buying up all the bullets at my local Wal-Mart! Leave them for somebody like me who is actually going to use them.

It’s said that Utahn’s have a thing for giving their kids weird names. And, perhaps, that is true. The Mormon influence here has some sway on that I suppose.

I remember going to high school with a kid name Moroni. Working with another named Nephi. Having a college professor named Von Del. Confessing to a bishop named DeVerl. Hearing rumors about a gentleman named Moriancumer (though I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting him).

Well, if you’re expecting and you just absolutely gotta give your kid some weird and crazy name that will emotionally scar them for life, check out the Utah Baby Namer. No joke. You’ll find some seriously sweet stuff on there.

But for those of you who keeps pets in lieu of kids or (so as to not offend anyone who views their pets as their precious children) as their kids, check out the list of crazy pet names.

Sparklemonkey? Now why didn’t I ever think of that?!

How about you? Know of any crazily named people (or pets) — Utahn or otherwise?

So, the weatherman said that we were going to get 3 to 4 inches of snow today. Here’s a picture of my extremely short sons in that 3 to 4 inches of snow:

The snow start coming down pretty light yesterday afternoon. And the crazy thing is, it never stopped. It may have been light, but it was certainly consistent. It hasn’t stopped since it started and, as of this writing, is still coming down.

Mr. Ruler’s tally so far:

Well, I resisted for as long as I could. But for the many millions of you who have ruthlessly emailed me over and over again that I need to blog more often in order to make your lives worth living, I have joined the masses by starting a tweet, or whatever they call it when you start a Twitter thing.

You can now get your Stu fix multiple times a day. I figured this would be good since there are probably a million things that I want to blog about, but simply don’t have the time (stupid job!), so writing a real quick and short tweet about them all ought to satisfy both myself and my raving fans.

Join my incredibly huge fan club of 3 followers at http://twitter.com/stuthewise

I’ll see you on the next tweet!

So… I stopped by the Macey’s on my way home from work today to pick up a bottle of some sweet Pace Picante Sauce. It was on sale for about a third off. Wow! Could there possibly be a better deal to be had anywhere in the universe? I think not!

Anyway, let’s get to the conversation part shall we?

I hit the express lane. Ten items or less, and I’m second in line. I’ll be out of there in no time! Unfortunately for me, the older gentleman ahead of me was using an archaic payment method. I think they call it “writing a check”?

Okay okay… I know. The conversation.

Okay, so the gentleman ahead of me takes a look at me and says, “Too much basketball?” and pointed at my slung-up arm.

“Too much motorcycling,” I respond.

I was about to continue the conversation when the man’s wife walks up and informs the man that he wrote his check out for the wrong amount. So he tears up his check and starts anew.

Now, this is where things get interesting. After the man finishes writing his new check and hands it to the amazingly hot cashier (yes, as you’ll find later on, the hotness of the cashier is an important factor to the story) he turns to me and says, “You know, six years ago they found a tumor in my colon that was this big,” and he holds his hands up to express a tumor that is roughly the size of an orange.

Okay. Now for some people, that might be a perfectly normal thing to say to a complete stranger that you meet in the checkout lane of the local grocery store. But for me, not so much.

My first thought was to respond with, “Wow, that is really gross!”

I managed to get out, “Wow…” before catching myself and realizing the rest probably isn’t very socially acceptable. Yeah, talking about your gigantic, cancerous, stage three colonic tumor is okay. Saying that talking about your gigantic, cancerous, stage three colonic tumor is gross is a bit inappropriate; or so says Miss Manners.

A bit taken aback, I’m not sure how to respond, so I say, “You know, I write for a living and I’ve written a lot about cancer treatments. It’s amazing what they can do these days.”

So after I learn that after 6 months of chemo treatments — no radiotherapy! — the tumor disappeared, the cashier has rung up my picante sauce and, looking quite apologetic for interrupting our stimulating discussion about cancer in the 7th planet from the Sun (Uranus… get it? Hahaha! It never gets old!), tells me I owe her $2.05. I hand my cash over.

The man then says he’s gotta go and bids farewell. Of all the places to get tongue tied! I wasn’t sure what to say. I almost said, “Good luck!”

Then, realizing that would be stupid (we’re in Orem Utah, not an unregulated whore house in Reno), I stammer out, “Have a good one!”

I turn to the amazingly hot cashier, who I would normally have been quite charming with, and simply thank her for allowing me the pleasure of spending my money

The end.

Remember the Family Guy episode where Peter accidentally locks his keys out of his car at the grocery store parking lot? He yells at passersby to hand him his keys which are lying on the ground just outside his car, but nobody helps him.

Something quite similar happened recently. Luckily the girl who locked herself in her car had a cell phone. That’s good because with all her windows rolled up — her battery dead, making it impossible to roll them down — she couldn’t hear the instructions from the cops who were there trying to help her, so she signaled them to call her on her cell phone.

See, with her battery dead, she couldn’t roll down the windows and crawl out, and the electric door lock switch didn’t work either. So when she finally got the cops on the phone, they were able to give her instructions on how to use the manual door lock override. Yeah, they told her to use her finger to slide the door lock to the unlocked position.

I wish I could say that this was Paris Hilton or some other equally useless “celebrity.” But alas, this actually happened in Utah, right here in my home town of Orem.

Here is an excerpt from the story, taken from the website of local news station KUTV:

Automatic car features are supposed to make life easier for motorists, but they may be leaving some people without the know-how to do things the old-fashioned way. That’s what happened to a driver in Utah County who became trapped inside her own car.

When police arrived, they found the woman sitting in the car, unable to get herself out.

Once officers were able to talk to the woman on the phone, they were able to tell her how to manually operate the slide lock mechanism on the inside door panel to open the door and free herself.

“I’m just glad she had a cell phone to call for help,” an officer said.

Uh, yeah. Good thing she had her cell phone, because it would have been so unfortunate to lose one of this century’s greatest minds!

Read the actual story on the KUTV website.

Alright. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, so I’ll cut the lady a little slack. Then again, no. I’m sorry, but that was just really, uh, how you say… stupid?

So a few months ago, my old TV started to go on the fritz. It started with the speakers, then the on/off switch started to fry. Just the excuse I needed to go out and finally hook up with a brand new HDTV.

Now, normally I’m an early adopter. I bought my first DVD player for $350 (and that was the cheap one!) way back in 1996′ish. I believe me, I’ve wanted an HDTV ever since 1988 when I first heard of their use in Japan, and I REALLY wanted to get one when they finally introduced them in the states. Unfortunately, I didn’t happen to have $10 grand lying around begging to be spent, so I waited.

Well, I saved a few bones by waiting. Thanks to James, Best Buy area manager in northern Utah, and Johnnie, manager at the Best Buy in West Jordan, I totally got hooked up with a sweet 1080p 42″ Panasonic plasma screen.

Am I happy with my purchase? Incredibly so. The picture is awesome and, uh, big. Not as big as the 70-incher that I hope to someday have (oh man, that just sounds so naughty!) but it will tide me over until the day I take over the world.

Next step? A Blu Ray player. I already switched my Netflix account over to Blu Ray… I better buy one soon!

I was speaking with my friend Elwon Bakly yesterday. Elwon, for those who don’t know, is one of the most talented actors the world has ever known! Well, he would be if the world knew of him.

This speaking with Elwon lead me to consider watching a movie he was in called The Basket. He plays a returning WWII vet who is one pissed mofo at the German Nazi basties who messed him up somethin’ fierce while he was trying to free Europe.

Anyway, so I logged in to my Netflix account to watch the trailer for it. That’s when I realized that I could watch the entire movie (well, the important parts anyway… the parts with Elwon in them) just from the trailer.

So to honor my friend Elwon, I decided to put together this Eltage… or Monwon? Er, I’ll just say Elwon montage. Thus, you can now enjoy the greatness of Elwon Bakly.

So there you have it folks!

Now, Elwon normally plays comedic roles. However, The Basket is a drama, and Elwon has played the part of Jesus of Nazareth in the past. Nonetheless, if you want to waste your time watching the parts of the movie that don’t have Elwon, well, I guess I won’t hold it against you.