Me and Mrs. Jones

I'm sure that many of you are familiar with my venerable vehicle, Mrs. Jones. The good Mrs. is a 1989 Toyota Camry. She and I have had our share of wacky adventures, she was severely beat up during the filming of CTU: Provo, and broken into once. Things were still good though, until this last summer. The air conditioning totally failed. This was enough to drive a wedge between us. There were many muttered complains as the sweat oozed down my forehead, and onto my glasses. But now, I regret my words said to her in anger and haste. You see, on Saturday, Mrs. Jones was diagnosed as undriveable. There had been a strange knocking lately whenever I'd hit the brakes, she veer wildly to the side for no reason. I took her to a mechanic and it turns out that she is in need of costly repairs. So costly in fact, that it's been decided that I should rather purchase another car rather than repair Mrs. Jones. So, it looks like the end of another relationship, just before my wedding. So long, Mrs. Jones.

Concern for Industry

People often stop me on the street and ask, "Jeff, I find your blog endlessly fascinating. But one thing wraps my mind up in such questions that I am unable to function as a human being. Indeed, I have soiled myself nigh unto eight times this morning alone! I must ask! What industry are you involved in, exactly?" These people I usually kick in the shin or buy them a taco. If they don't know the answer, I'm certainly not going to tell them. Or you. Ha!

Buffalo

Recently, while perusing Google Analytics. I was compelled to look at the section that details where all of the people who look at my blog live. I was surprised to find that a good portion of recent visits had come from Buffalo, New York. I don't know anyone who lives there, and I cannot think of a compelling reason that an average Buffaloan would read my blog. Therefore, I have come to this conclusion: I have a celebrity stalker. This is not to say that I consider myself a celebrity. Rather, my stalker IS a celebrity. I looked up a list of famous people from Buffalo. That's when it all clicked into place. I've often spoken of my distaste for CNN's Wolf Blitzer. I find him vaguely annoying and can't stand to watch him for more than a few minutes. I've said this aloud many times, but little did I know that it would get back to him. Alas, it did, and now I have a Wolf problem. I'm sure he's reading up on me and plotting his revenge, sitting in his Situation Room, wringing his hands in anticipation, waiting for the right time to strike.

The Six Random Things You Meet in Heaven

Laurel tagged me. I'm not overly comfortable with people commanding me to say things, but in this case, I shall. The tag requires me to state six random things about myself. Very well, here you go.

1. I have never been to Belgium.
2. My freshman year roommate shot me in the neck.
3. My first words after being safe after a potentially lethal car accident were "I'm hungry, let's get some food."
4. I hate monkeys. I don't fear them. I hate them.
5. I have not worn corduroy pants since Kindergarten, when my mom made me wear them and I was embarrassed.
6. I once saw Pierce Brosnan at Disneyland

I Don't Give One

In an attempt to clear up certain misconceptions about me, I would like to state unequivocally that I have never eaten a fig. Not a Fig Newton, nor even a date (a dried fig). I resent any implication that I have. Thank you.

The Time Between Times

Since last weekend, two of my friends have found themselves in that marvelous time unique to Provo wherein they were forced to move out of their apartment, but can't move into their new one for two weeks. Normally, this would have them sleeping in cars, park benches, photo booths, clothing hampers on the sidewalk, or any number of small containers. But I have allowed them to stay with me. Since I am the only one in the apartment, it's no big deal, but since I am moving out myself in a week or so, the apartment has adopted sort of a warehouse feel, boxes stacked to the ceiling, unopened bags of generic cereal on the table, and the number of Mechwarrior figurines in the apartment has increased dramatically. And isn't that what really matters?

Strange Gardens

The fiancee and I took engagement pictures yesterday. Or locations of choice were several gardens in the Salt Lake area. My personal favorite was the Gilgal Garden, which I discovered on a paranormal website. It's a bizarre place with strange sculptures like this grasshopper/severed head area here. Perfect for romantic pictures.