Say What you Mean, and Mean what You Say

Hey everyone, its Corey again. Through means of some fan feedback we were told that sometimes people don't know who is blogging, so we were encouraged to state our names at the beginning of our posts. (Many of you may have noticed our blog names that directly follow our post, so maybe this new information is unnecessary. I thought it was pretty obvious, and almost laughed at the suggestion, but then I remembered who our audience is and realized, "If they can deduce all of that info without the obvious statement of fact, then they aren't uneffective." So this ones for you, UP-ers.) And now that you know its me, I will continue with my scheduled thoughts.

First things first (Wait, stating my name was first). Second things second, I just heard the most interesting statement. I was kinda eavesdropping and this guy was telling a story about a group of friends and this kid they didn't know very well that was hanging out with them. But as the story went on, the group warmed up to the new kid and found him to be pretty funny. Correction, extremely funny. To show how funny the kid was, the storyteller's exact words were, "He was LITERALLY the funniest kid ever." I wanted to walk right up to the guy and shake his hand. I mean, how often in your life will you come across somebody who has met every kid ever to live?! "Literally the funniest kid ever?!" Now, I'm uneffective, and all for exaggeration, but we have to draw a line somewhere! If you use the word, "literally," I expect to be delivered a fact, not some overblown exaggeration. Now, maybe this kid is actually the funniest of all time (in which case I owe storyteller-dude an apology). But if that is the case, I think I would have heard about him by now. There is a lot of money in being funny. (And in rhyming, if only I could find some better timing.) So why is this kid hiding out, playing the new-kid-in-the-group-until-they-realize-i'm-funny-so-I-can-be-more-popular-and-well-known card? Get a PR team together, and lets take the comedy world by storm already!!

Ok, that was way more than I meant to devote to that subject. It just struck me as strange. I didn't mean to literally take up 946 pages on that one line of conversation. Figuratively speaking, I just thought it was interesting. No lie, I laughed for 7 hours after I heard it. In plain terms, the accuracy of his pre-conceived notion of the hilarity of the aforementioned youth was preposterous, nonchalant, and negligent. I think I make my point.

Ok, now for what I really was gonna write about. I was walking out of church the other day, and as I walked down the sidewalk I noticed a guy walking towards me. I realized that we would pass each other and knew that some type of exchange would take place. You know what I mean. You know you're gonna both look up at the same time, make eye contact, and then express a salutation of some sort. Whether an eyebrow raise, head nod, or some kind of verbal acknowledgement, you will address this stranger in some way. I had about 20 feet to realize and process all of this, which is more than enough time to game-plan. However, when the time came, it all unfolded a little differently than I imagined. We both looked up, both nodded, and that should have been it. But for some strange reason, I muttered, "How ya doin." Let the record show that I did not expect an answer. It was simply the salutation that came to mind. Yet he, being a polite and thoughtful person, answered, "I'm good. How are you?" Not wanting to be the rude one, I answered back, "I'm good too. Thanks." Now, keep in mind, when this exchange started, we were about 3 feet from each other. So by the time it was all wrapped up, he was a good 5 feet past me, leaving me kicking myself (notice I didn't say literally) and feeling awkward and dumb.

I think some comedian talks about this same thing, and I'm not trying to steal anyone's joke. I just found myself thinking about why that happened, and why I felt so dumb afterwards. I mean, that was way more conversation than ever should have occurred. At first, I was accusing the other guy of being at fault. I mean, my line did not require a response. I would have thought nothing of it if he had just said, "What's up." or "Hey." So it was his fault for replying to my rhetorical question. What an idiot. Then I realized that I had responded to the exact same question... two steps after we were no longer facing each other. He responded while I could see him. I, on the other hand, muttered my response into vast emptiness before me. So I guess I'm the idiot.

I don't want to be the idiot, so I'm still trying to figure out how to explain this away. I can't, but I've thought of some interesting things in the meantime that will hopefully dispel my idiocy. First item: who established the correct distance to look up and make eye contact? Because there is a time when people look up. And how do we all know when that is? Because everybody does it. Its just a few steps before passing the other person. I'd guess about 3 feet. But the 4-20 foot space is a definite no-no. You can't look at them then. Eye contact at 15 feet is just begging for awkward. (And for those of us who have had the unfortunate experience of being paired up with someone wearing sunglasses, there is no more awkward feeling. "Are they looking at me?" "Should I smile?" "But if they aren't looking then I'm an idiot." "But if they are and I don't, I'm a jerk." "Oh shoot, now I'm staring." "Curse you eye-contact-situation-creator!")

Which brings me to thought number 2: Who created awkward? Why was my incident awkward? Was it because I expected more out of it? or less? I mean, I was being polite to my fellowman, and now I feel like I made a huge mistake! I wonder how much longer our conversation could have gone if I would have asked another question back to the guy. I challenge you UP-ites to make "awkward" something that happens so much that it becomes normal. I imagine the first handshake was awkward, but now its a part of everyday life! So lets go out and start up full conversations with passing strangers and see how long they can carry on without turning around or stopping. If someone asks you a salutary (thank you thesaurus) question, you answer it and then respond with a question of your own. See if it keeps going. But don't stop to actually talk. I imagine by the time you get to "ya, i'll probably just take the kids to soccer so my wife can rest her feet. What about your evening?" you will be yelling at the top of your lungs to make sure they can still hear you.

And with that, I leave you. Again, this was Corey writing. And I'm pretty proud of this post. Literally, figuratively, metaphorically, and ecumenically proud.

P.S. Speaking of awkward, check out this website http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com

And while you're at it, look up the photo titled "eye contact." See if you can spot it. haha

Enjoy

10 Things I Hate About...Life

There are hundreds of movies, tv shows, stand up routines, and jokes about the little things in life that drive us crazy. People make careers off being able to identify and elaborate on these types of things. Think of Jerry Seinfeld and Kevin James. Lately, I have been keeping track of such things in my phone as I see them occur in my life. Listed below are 10 of my favorites, or perhaps I should say least favorites.

-I hate when someone holds the door open for you when you are more than four steps away. You feel obligated to give a courtesy jog and a little thank you, it's awkward and unnecessary. I appreciate the thought but I am fully capable of opening a door myself and I don't need to be the recipient of your “good turn daily”. I suggest that there should be a two step maximum distance for door holds. If you are just an extremely nice and loving person and feel obligated to always make an effort to hold a door open for someone then maybe you could do the big push thing as you walk by. That way if I want to hustle up and catch it before it closes then I can, but I don't have to, and you can walk away feeling like you did the Christ-like thing.

-I hate when someone crosses the street in front of you and makes you hit the brakes. Then they take their sweet time slowly walking across the street and never look back to give the courtesy wave. If I have to hit my brakes, not only do I expect a little hustle but I also deserve at least a thank you head nod if not a full on wave with a mouthed “thank you”. Why did you have to cross at that very second? You're obviously not in a hurry, so why couldn't you have waited six more seconds? All I ask is that we are a little less selfish.

-I hate when people wear their sunglasses indoors or at night. I can just imagine them checking themselves out in the mirror and thinking; “I look so good in these that I absolutely cannot afford to be seen without them.” I agree that sunglasses can be a vital beauty accessory. I mean what other item can you throw on that will cover close to half of the surface area of your face and instantly bump you up a solid point on the looks scale? All I ask is that we use a little discretion and kindly remove them when it gets difficult to even see where you're walking because it's far too dark.

-I hate when people are inconsistent with their speed on the freeway. You know when the same car passes you, 25 seconds later you pass them, and so on and so forth all the way to Las Vegas? I know that I have been going exactly 82 the entire way, so obviously you are completely oblivious the speed of your car until it hits about 100 and you slam on the brakes. It's frustrating to watch and I can only imagine it's frustrating to witness first hand from the passenger seat.

-I hate when someone makes me break my cruise control. I have it perfectly set at 82 (the optimal freeway speed fyi) and suddenly Diane in the blue Ford Focus finds it absolutely necessary to pass that very moment when I am only 60 feet behind her. I try to use the decel button so I don't have to cancel the cruise control but you know as well as I do that that's not going to be sufficient and I am going to have to use the brakes. Now, you've ruined my cruise control and I have to wait at least 1 minute before you pass the car, merge back to the slow lane where you belong, and then accelerate (not to mention the wasted gas used in performing such a maneuver) back up to my optimal 82. Please people, be considerate.

-I hate when I am the only one in a group that doesn't think something is hilarious. Everyone around me seems to think that Joe's locker room jokes are the epitome of funny and I'm left wondering if my sense of humor is off or if I'm just surrounded by idiots. Either way I find myself in that situation too often. Do I fake a laugh just to fit in? Or do I hold strong, maintain my pride and withhold my laughter for things that I find truly funny? Why should I lower my standards just so the person telling the sub-par jokes can feel that much more comfortable? I don't think I should and I think I'll continue to make people earn my laughs.

-I hate it when fountain drinks aren't mixed properly. You know, the mixture of carbonated water and syrup. We have high speed internet on our phones, cars that drive themselves, and rockets that fly to the outer regions on our galaxy but consistently mixing the soda is a problem that we can't seem to master. And it's always too much carbonated water. Never is the Pepsi too syrupy, which is a problem that I'd maybe be more apt to deal with. Countless times I have been driving along when all of a sudden a great thought flutters into my mind; “you know what sounds amazing right now? An ice cold Pepsi or Diet Coke from the gas station.” Imagine my disappointment when I go through the hassle of locating a g-station, driving to it, going in, physically fixing the drink, searching for change in my pockets, and finally getting back into my car ready to enjoy the first sip when I discover that it's a bad batch. A bad batch! Not only am I upset because of the wasted time/effort/money but I'm still left with this unquenchable thirst and only brown colored carbonated water to quench it with. It's a less than ideal situation and it's one that is making me contemplate possible bottled soda purchases from here on out.

-I hate it when someone wears the full Lance Armstrong biking gear when they are riding around town. Why do you have to wear USPS sponsored gear from head to toe to ride your bike through the streets. I know you're not sponsored. In fact, you probably paid quite the good looking penny to acquire such a get-up. Whats wrong with some shorts and a t-shirt? Is wind drag really a problem for you? Of course not, you just want people to look at you and admire your trim physique and expensive sunglasses.

-I hate it when people can't handle simple math. The other day I bought something for like $1.34 at a place that didn't have a cash register. I handed the lady a $5 bill and waited for my change. She had this absolutely puzzled look on her face and I could see the wheels were turning as she tried to subtract 1.34 from 5. After about 30 seconds I decided to help her out and say 3.66. I didn't want to be rude and put this lady down, but I just wanted my change so I could leave. I did it in as nice a way as I could come up with (Ummm, I think it's like $3.66 right?), and then she gave me a look like she didn't trust me, as if I was trying to cheat her out of $0.14 or something. Eventually she agreed on $3.66 and I was able to leave but the fact remains that if you can't handle simple math like that and are operating a place of business where that kind of math is very needful and necessary then maybe you should invest the $3 and get yourself a calculator.

Family, isn't it about... mine?

So after a blazing fast start to this blog, we've kinda slown down a bit. (Since when is "slown" not a word? Dang spell check makes me realize how ignorant I really am. But I'd rather have it tell me than have you do it, Nik Mason.) I guess its time to stimulate the minds of all you uneffective people out there. And i feel that its time for a post that isn't about sports. (Especially since Blair and Brock just put me on blast about who I do or don't like. Go Cowboys!!!!!)

So I thought this post could be about something everyone has an opinion on. I want to hear from you people about your life perspective based on your birth order. lol. Random, I know. My little brother Riley came down to Provo over Memorial Day weekend, and we got to spend a lot of time together. (I come from a family with 4 sons. It goes me, Riley, Robbie, and Quinn. Riley is 22. Then Robbie who is almost 20 and on his mission in El Salvador. Quinn is last at 17 and hates every minute of being the youngest.)

Those 3 days are probably the most time Riley and I have ever spent together outside of a family trip to Lake Chelan a few year ago. (I think we all still have nightmares about that excursion, and I'm glad no pictures exist to remind us. But we appreciate the effort Mom and Dad. hahaha. jk, it was...um...a good escape from everything in life that we liked. haha.) Anyway, I kept introducing Riley to my friends as my younger brother and didn't think anything of it. He turned to me one time and said, "Its so weird to be called that. You're the only person in the world that can introduce me like that." It got me thinking about birth order and how different our perspectives are. I mean, I have 3 younger brothers, so the idea of "my younger brother" is pretty normal to me. But what is it like for the middle kids who have younger and older siblings? How about the youngest, who only has older siblings? Does it make them feel inferior to be called a younger sibling? I have no idea what its like. And don't even get me started on the idea of having sisters! What do you have to do wrong to be born into a family with girls?! (jk jk jk. But it would be a whole different experience to have sisters.) I realize that marriage will be a huge eye-opener for me when I have to learn how to live with a girl, but I'd much rather just get it all over in one brutal experience with my wife than have to go through years of agony as a child and youth in a house with girl issues and drama. (Hahaha. I know a lot of people are now offended, and I'm totally not entirely serious ["totally not entirely?"], but can you see my point? I'm sure plenty of guys with sisters can admit I've missed out on some horrors.) I know I missed out on a lot of cool things by not having any sisters, but do the positives outweigh the negatives? Someone enlighten me. As a matter of fact, I would appreciate any enlightenment from anyone who has a different point of view. Or even the same one.

As the oldest child, I felt like the guinea pig sometimes. I know my little brothers got to do some things that my parents never would allow me to do. And vice versa. I think its obvious and necessary that parents learn with the first child, and then make adjustments as more come along. I'm just saying that's how I felt. And I made sure to point out the times when my siblings got to do stuff I never did at their age. haha. "That's not fair!!! You never let me have sleepovers when I was that age!!!" I also feel like I was supposed to grow up quicker than the others. I was babysitting my younger brothers when I was 10 and 11, but my parents wouldn't even let Quinn stay home alone until he was a teenager. Maybe I'm remembering this wrong, but that sure is what it seems like.

Another thing, I always felt like I had to be perfect. There was lots of pressure to be the good example and not make any mistakes or else my brothers would see them and think they were okay to make. That might be part of the reason I didn't hang out with my brothers very much. I didn't want to risk making a mistake around them, and by not being around them the pressure was off. I always felt like I had to do the right things and that mistakes weren't ok. Maybe this is why I'm so competitive and can't stand losing. I don't deal with failure very well. And I know that feeling like I had to be perfect made me a very demanding older brother. I always let them know when they made mistakes or didn't do what they were supposed to. I'm not proud of that, I'm just telling you how things were. I feel bad that I was such a police officer all the time. I probably put more pressure on my brothers to be perfect than my parents put on me. Do any other oldest children feel the same way? Did this happen in other families?

Man, it seems like this blog turned into a confessional. haha. But I've just been thinking a lot about family dynamics and if they are the same or similar in all families. And what is it like if you are an only child? I was almost 5 before Riley was born, and I can admit it was an adjustment to learn to share my parents' time. But what if you never have to learn to share it? C'mon people. Pipe in. I feel like there is a lot more I wanted to say, but I can't remember any of it now. That's why I'm uneffective. :-) So fill in the blanks.

No Wagonism....

“I now consider myself the greatest player of all time.” If you do not recognize this great human being, his name is Rickey Henderson. And yes, that is his quote. This strikes me as being ironic because I’d venture to say most don’t recognize this man. Yet he considers himself the greatest professional baseball player of all time. Not only is this statement ludicrous, but it is awesome. I don’t care who you are, to literally utter those words out of your mouth for just being the all time steals leader, you have to be freakin sweet. There are a lot of great players out there, and I don’t know if I even give him top 25… top 50? Yeah. A decent lifetime hitter, but the man stole bases. He was a risk taker. Every time he got on he was looking to steal. If he got caught stealing, he was probably criticized. But at least he took that chance. (297 HR, .279 BA, 1406 SB (1st)). And this brings me to the point in writing this blog, as it is in reference to Brocks blog two weeks ago about Bandwagonism. (Please refer to this great article to find out if you are a true fan or if you are a bandwagoner).

Over the past few years I have taken a lot of criticism for the teams in which I root for. If you don’t know me, I will briefly explain my fan hood. I’m a die-hard Pittsburgh Pirates baseball fan. Yes, you heard it right. You know of any others? Please let me know so I can befriend them on facebook. To my knowledge, I have only met one in my lifetime (thank you Mr. Tuscano). I’m from Utah and don’t root for the Jazz…. Wow big shocker. I don’t willingly submit myself to that pain every year. I am a 76ers fan…(this is Philly’s year, gonna get the Villain from Ohio state!) And of course a huge Tampa Bay Buccaneers fans (hand over the heart for the 2002 super bowl champs)! And even though I attend BYU, I’m a Ute at heart. 3 Major American sports, 3 teams. Pretty easy right? Doesn’t everyone have a team that they root for in these 3 sports (preferably college too)? The answer my friends, is surprisingly…. NO. There are people out there that don’t give a crap about some sports. Which is understandable. They don’t watch a lot sports and could honestly care less if the Houston Oilers or the Montreal Expos win the championship. (That was a test, if you, in your mind, thought hey, those aren’t even teams anymore, and then this article probably applies to you).

This topic dawned on me one day when I was driving in the car. I suddenly realized how many low blows I take constantly. Then it really hit me hard when I realized that it happens almost every single day. Year round I take criticism and then defend my teams. And then, it hit me like it hits me about 5 hours after a gigantic Beto’s burrito. I take criticism from people who don’t even have teams! They feel like they have to right to call me out when they don’t even root for/claim a team. This is absurd! That’s like me telling someone they suck at Ballet, when I know absolutely nothing about it. That’s why I don’t have a favorite ballerina. Alright, so that wasn’t the best analogy. That’s why I’m uneffective. Anyways, to the point, if you fit under one of these criterion, and don't have a favorite team, you are a no-wagoner. So just try and mock one of my teams… you will be mocked my friend, you will be mocked.

1. You are semi-athletic. Ok that is a very gray area in that statement, cuz in determining yourself whether or not you are athletic, could be scary for some haha. But if you play sports at all, even city league basketball or softball, even the occasionally back yard football game, you need to claim a team in all 3 major sports.

2. You actually played sports in high school/college. I won’t say whom, but I have actually met a human being, that lives here on this earth (hey I'm watching Avatar as I write this), that played 5 years of college basketball. Is from Portland, (big sports state). Is about 6’4”, 172 lb’s on good day, blonde hair, blue eyes. Maybe you know him. This human does not even have a favorite NBA team! This is ironic…don’t ya think? Thanks Alanis. Not even a college a team either. Maybe a baseball team? Nope. Wow guys…wow. I got an idea, maybe the Blazers? How bout the ducks or the beavers? Mariners? Nothing! That my friends is called playing it safe. And is unacceptable.

3. You are from a major spots place. New York, Boston, L.A., Philly, Chicago, Dallas, St. Louis, Cleveland, Atlanta, Phoenix (yeah I’m calling out all you recent Cards/Suns fans). Almost all these sports cities have all 3 major sports and big colleges too. You have stuff to go to year round. I’m not saying you have to love that team, but it gives you opportunities to see your team if they are not from there also. You have no excuse to try and play it safe!

4. You are from absolutely nowhere! Laie, Hawaii, North/South Dakota, Montana, Iowa, New Mexico. And I’m talking like I’m from somewhere…Utah. You have absolutely nothing else to do! You should have teams. Believe me I have lived in Hawaii…March Madness and the NBA finals were like Christmas every night! You have no excuse.

5. And the final qualification is that you hang around sports oriented people. Maybe you don’t play much, live in a sports city, or in the middle of nowhere, (somewhere in the middle like Utah), but if you hang around people that are die-hards, you need to have teams too. You don’t wanna be that guy that’s talking out of his a…as I was saying, that guy that says, “You know Boston could really use a big name Pitcher…” Don’t be that guy, you have no excuse.

I hope these paragraphs have caused some serious reflection on your life. And hey, maybe they didn’t, but I better not hear a word from you criticizing another team unless you display your fan hood your own teams. Sorry for the week and half absence from posting… I know you have been checking the blog everyday in hopes of a new one haha… I hope you make the necessary changes to at least root for certain teams. I’m not saying go buy shirts and fly a banner on your car, but do something. Then maybe you can one day consider yourself, “the greatest fan of all time.”

“I don’t always read blogs, but when I do, I prefer Uneffective People.” –The Most Interesting Man in the World’s twin brother.

Now that we’ve amassed over 200 views, I guess its time to reveal the reasons behind this blog. We really didn’t know how we would be received, but so far, cyberspace has been hospitable and even encouraging. We’ve received comments, feedback, and even have a handful of followers. Now that we have been accepted by our peers, we can attempt to explain the logic (or lack thereof) behind this little nugget of literary gold.

First things first, what are “Uneffective People?” Before I explain that, did you know that “uneffective” isn’t even a word? And every time I type it, my computer tries to correct me. There are red squiggles all over the place right now. The real word is “ineffective.” We thought that letting our ineffectiveness speak for itself is just like Alanis Morissette penned. "Its like ray-ee-aaaaain, on your wedding day.” Or “a freeeee riiiiiiiiiide, when you’re already late.” Maybe “the good adviiiiiiiiice, that you just can’t take. Who woulda thunk?” We figerred. Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think? We thought so. Other than that, we don’t really have a reason. Are we really uneffective people? You decide. But consider this, I’m writing this post while I sit in the waiting area at the Blood Plasma Donation Center. If you ask me, that’s pretty darn efficient and/or effective. So maybe we are only uneffective some of the time.

But ya, we’re just 3 guys in our early to mid 20’s that do things a little different than others. We consider ourselves talented and full of promise, but maybe don’t use our talents the way they were intended. For example, we are all very observant, clever people. But instead of using those abilities to point out the good in the world, we tend to notice the small things that don’t make sence or can be twisted or are being done wrong. (Such as the typo in that last sentence. If you noticed, welcome aboard.) And usually we notice them in the things people say. My advice to anyone speaking, commenting, or facebooking us: Don’t say it unless you are sure you mean it. We all know one of the oldest jokes in the book. When someone says, “I’m hungry.” You reply, “Hi Hungry, I’m ____________ (state your name here).” Ya, that’s child’s play compared what we do (although we never pass up the opportunity to use that one). For another example, Blair once said to me, “Dude, you ready to go? Lets bounce.” To which I replied, “Ya, I’m ready, but I’d rather just walk.” Man, typing this out makes us sound really lame. But trust me, its funny in person. Just try it with your friends. If they don’t like it, they shouldn’t be your friends. And not always are our jokes funny. They sometimes are annoying. But every once in a while, someone strikes it rich with a funny one. That’s what makes it all worth it.

Another thing that we uneffective people do is to quote commercials. I mean, people are spending millions on their marketing and advertising campaigns. Why let that go to waste!? So keep your eyes peeled for commercial quotes. But only the most cheesy of them. And as you read, don’t hold back anything. If you want to yell out, “WOW! THAT’S A GOOD BLOG!” just do it. I’m sure someone will ask you if you said something about a good blog. When you show it to them, and they yell, “WHOA! THAT IS A GOOD BLOG!” You can simply yell back, “I KNOW!!!”

And that, my friends, is all I have for now. Just remember, Uneffective People. Where cleverness blogs from. Bu bu bu bu bu bu BLOGGER!!!

Bandwagoners

With the recent sweep of our beloved Utah Jazz an epidemic has once again reared its ugly head. I speak of course of that disease that infects even the best of us at times, Bandwagonism. Out of the wood work has come a plethora of suddenly loud and proud Lakers fans, and I submit that something needs to be done. These “fans” have no right whatsoever to be fans. Now I don't necessarily have a problem with the Lakers, Yankees, Cowboys, or any of the other “storied” franchises themselves (although I will always root for their demise and failure) but I do, however, have a problem with those cowardly and spineless souls that we call “bandwagoners”. Bandwagoner is defined as “A person who suddenly elects to become a fan, and outwardly displays that fanhood, of a team that has only recently enjoyed success for the selfish reasons of gloating or seeming cooler than they really are to their friends and acquaintances.”

My attention was once again drawn to this topic when I happened to stumble upon my good friend AJ's recent Facebook status which read, and I quote (hence the quotation marks) “Austin Joseph Palmer Lake Show Sweep. Goodbye Jazz.” In response to this I wrote “You would. I can't believe there was enough room left on the bandwagon for you to get on this late. I literally have never heard you utter a single word regarding your fanhood of the Lakers in my life. And I have probably spent more time with you over the last three years than anyone, minus you know who of course (Becky). This is just like you telling everyone you're from the OC and are pre-med.” If you ask AJ he will more than likely refute the aforementioned charges but I'm here to tell you that I speak the truth. He, along with countless others, were conveniently quiet during the Lakers-Jazz series but once the Lakers secured the sweep, here comes the trash talk.

On a side note I feel it should be required of all Utah citizens to at least like the Jazz. I don't consider myself a die hard, but I do pledge my allegiance to Utah's only major professional team (I clarify “major” because I guess Real SL, the Bees, the Grizzlies, and the Owls are considered professional too). It's all we in Utah have, and we should unite and stick together. Have some beehive pride for crying out loud. Nothing is more annoying then a born and raised Utahn that likes the Lakers, Spurs, or Nuggets. The only reason they would do such a thing is because they think it separates themselves from rest of us or somehow it makes them original or unique. It doesn't, it makes you a sell-out.

This brings me to my next, and perhaps most important, point; fanhood qualifications. In order to be a legitimate fan of a team I feel you have to meet one of five qualifications. If you can meet at least one of these qualifications, then by all means paint your face, buy a bumper sticker, and root for your team. The qualifications are as follows:

1. You must have a geographical tie to the supposed team. Either the team is in your actual geographical region or it is the closest in proximity to your location. An exception here is if you used to live in a city with a supposed favorite team, then you are, by all means, legally allowed like that team.

2. You must have a tie to said team through family or friends. It is allowed to like a team that you have some sort of relative or close friend that is a part of it somehow. For example, a friend of mine's brother was drafted by the Orioles, and he is now entitled to like that team regardless of geographic location or any other matter.

3. If a parent is a lifelong fan of a team through some sort of a previous allowable and legal tie to that team, then the children may also legally claim that team. For example, a coach of mine is a die hard Pirates fan because he was raised in Pittsburgh as a child, which is an acceptable reason to like such a downtrodden franchise (see qualification #1), and therefore his children, if they should make such a poor and unwise choice, are indeed allowed to like the Pirates even though they have no other acceptable ties to the team. (run-on sentence?)

4. I also submit that it is allowable to move from bandwagon fan to legitimate fan if you have paid your dues. If you started out, for selfish reasons, as a bandwagon fan, but managed to stay on that bandwagon for 6+ years, then the law allows for you to politely exit the bandwagon and climb on with the normal and acceptable fans. For example, I know many such people that love the Bulls. When asked why, they respond with “because I loved MJ when I was a kid”. So, if they were converted to Bulls in the Michael Jordan days and they are still committed and have met the 6 year rule, then they may no more be ridiculed for being “bandwagoners”.

5. The final qualification to become a legitimate fan is to declare your fanhood for a team that is utterly terrible. In that case, no one cares if you are a bandwagon fan. If you, out of nowhere, wake up one morning and decide that you are now a New Jersey Nets fan, then by all means go for it, they need you. The reason the board has approved such a measure is that you gain nothing from joining a team like this' bandwagon. No bragging rights or trash talking opportunities will become yours because of this recent conversion. An example of this would be Mr. Frei's semi-recent conversion to the Pirates. The Pirates have had 17 straight losing seasons and haven't won a playoff game since Clemente was hitting in the 3 hole, and so no one cares if he, for reasons completely unknown to any of us, wants to subject himself to that sort of torment and humiliation.

I hope the previous paragraphs make you step back and take a look at yourself. Ask yourself the hard questions and determine where you sit with your fanhood. If you have made the mistake of being a bandwagoner, then you should know that the first step of repentance is recognition. It's not too late for you.

(P.s. I know that AJ does meet a qualification or two, I have to give him that, but it was just his choice to keep his fanhood a secret for the last 3 years until yesterday that threw me for a loop. Let it also be made public that I hereby challenge Mr. Frei and Mr. Nielson to explain their fanhood of the Nuggets and the Cowboys to the people of this court, if they can.)

Rounding out the top 3...

Hi everyone. Welcome to my introduction. Alphabetically, I come in last in the group. The two B’s trump the C. I’m ok with that. There are plenty of sayings about being last that I could use to make myself feel better about being last. But I won’t use them here. My analogy of us? Two turntables and a microphone. I’m the mic. They do the hard work, and I’m the one who doesn’t do anything but sit around until its Showtime! Haha. (I’m gonna do “haha”s and “Lol”s a lot. Get used to it. Texting and IM-ing have ruined me.) But I like these guys a lot. And as you will notice, we aren't perfect. Brock occasionally uses language that some would consider "rough." I have been caught biting my nails a time or two. And has Blair ever wiped when there was no toilet paper...? Maybe that's a story for another day. lol. But might I say, I truly loved reading their intros. Very clever. Very funny. Except Brock's paragraph about how we met. Brock, don't act like I haven't been a huge blessing in your life. Might I mention how things have changed for you in the last month since i've been here? I don't want to get too specific, but maybe the term, "long brown hair" rings a bell? Think about it... within the last month... Ya, that's right. I'm referring to how I unclogged your shower drain so it drains like normal. Please, stop shaving your legs in the shower...

Ok, enough rambling. Here are some RAQ’s (Rarely Asked Questions). And A’s. So what is my approach to blogging? “This could be fun!!” What makes me qualified to be a blogger you are interested in reading about? (Yes, I will end my sentences with prepositions quite frequently. If it bugs you, I’m probably not the blogger for you. If you don’t know what a preposition is, or why prepos-ending a sentence is annoying to some, we are going to get along great!) So, what qualifies me? Shoot, I should be asking you what qualifies you to read my ingenious posts?! (I’m not quite sure if “ingenious” means what I want it to mean. We all know what the prefix “in-“ does to the word, “famous.” But I think “ingenious” means really smart/clever, so I’m leaving it.) Anyway, I don’t know what qualifies me. Come to think of it, what qualifies anyone to be a blogger? (Yes, I did just answer a question with a question… twice! I’m a definite fan of Q4Q’s.) I guess if you like what I write, I’m qualified. If not, then I’m still qualified, you just have poor taste. “Intaste,” if you will.

A little about me: (This is the boring part. I’d skip it if I were you. Then again, maybe that last part was boring too… sorry if it was. Just read the non-fact/all opinion part of the blog instead. Not this facts-only section. If you like the actual bloggy part, and are interested in knowing why I am the way I am, you can look up my info here later. But I’d hate for our UP Incredi-blog to be ruined because you judged it based on my boring facts of life. So I’ll see you back here later.) You kept reading huh? Fine, but I warned you. I’m the oldest of 4 boys, and still the tallest. (Quinn, you are the last threat. But I’m not scared of you.) I grew up in a bunch of different places: Northern and Southern Utah, Iowa, Oregon, and Hawaii. I lived in 11 different houses by the time I turned 16. The longest I’ve lived anywhere was in Hawaii. My life timeline (lifeline?) goes basically like this. Utah (two weeks), Hawaii (two years), Utah (five years), Hawaii (three years), Utah (five months), Hawaii (two years), Iowa (two years), Hawaii (two years), Oregon (three years), Chile (two years, LDS mission. I didn’t mention Chile earlier because I didn’t grow up there, thank you very much), Oregon (two years), Hawaii (two years), Oregon (four months), Utah (6 months), Oregon (one year), and now I’m back in Utah. Whew, putting that on paper even surprised me! For the few of you who didn’t do the math, that puts me at just over 27 years old. Well… that’s false. As I write this, I am still 26. I rounded up with all the year measurements. So that made me older than I actually am. (Just like Blair and Brock do all the time. Can’t wait for all their old-jokes to be immortalized through our blog.) I hope you aren’t offended by my casual attitude towards time reporting. (I venture that more of you are offended that I wasn’t more casual and instead of all the details you wish I had just told you about my lifeline by saying I moved a lot but survived. Sorry. I told you this was boring.) I went to Mt. Hood Community College (GO SAINTS!) before going to BYU-Hawaii (MORMON OARMEN UNITE!) where I received my Bachelor’s Degree in International Business Management. Yeah, that’s right. College Grad right here. I played basketball in college, and now can finally put that experience to use in doing something I’ve wanted to do my entire life: City League basketball. Yes, my whole life has been pointing to this. Rec league all-star in the making… lol.

As far as blogging goes, I think I’ll be funny. But the proof is in the pudding. (True UP’s will be all over that line.) I think I’m a good writer, but I also think you need to know me to understand my tone and voice in writing. I once wrote an article for a school newspaper. It was about dating. Most all of my friends thought it was hilarious and well done, but people who didn’t know me thought it was rude and horribly written. So I hope that doesn’t transfer here. Although I don’t really know how someone who doesn’t know me will find this blog if it isn’t any good. Hahaha. In an effort to combat my writing dysfunction, I hope to post some videos of me and the UP Guys. I think seeing us visually (redundant) will work wonders for you as an audience. Cuz we’re some funny guys in person. Just ask our moms.

Alright, I’m done. This was way too long. If you made it this far, you must be a huge fan. Thanks again, Mom. (Too soon for another “only-a-mom-could-love” joke? Probably. Deal with it. They were both funny.) Well, I’m tired. This one-hour workday thing is exhausting.

Uneffectively yours,

Corey

Blair's Intro. Er... Blintro

Why hello to all readers of this blog and welcome. What made you stumble upon this blog? I don’t really know, nor do I really care (ok actually I do, and I wanted to put one of those poll question thingy’s that survey’s usually have, the “how did you hear about us” thing, but that is way too much work and I don’t have a clue on how to do that either). Anyways, sorry for that tangent. As an introductory note for myself, my name is Blair. And I’m a boy. I just like to clarify that before things get rolling, cuz it is after all a unisex name. Born and raised in St. George, Utah. Unlike Corey, I’ve lived in one house all my life, then went on a mission to the Philippines and come home to a different house, within eyesight of home I grew up in. After a boring first 6 months and semester at Dixie State, I transferred up here to BYU and have been stuck in Provo for the last 3 years. Recently engaged..(sorry ladies) haha, I don’t know why I laughed that wasn’t funny. If you knew me maybe it would be though. So you can laugh too.

Anyways, enough about me… and on to why you need to read this blog. And tell your friends about it. And your mom. And your friends moms. The purpose of this blog is to analyze. Analyze the world. Haha I don’t even know… but what I do know is it is gonna bring a smile to your face and a tear to your eye. My analogy of this trio? THE BIG 3.

No. Not that big 3.

This big 3.

Why you ask? Maybe you didn’t ask. But I will tell anyways. We all recognize these brands in the auto industry here in America. We are 3 extremely competitive guys that all bring something different to the table. The GM and the Ford trucks bring the power to the table. The durability. The dependability. Although similar they both have very different styles too. This is me and Brock. Mottos – “Like a rock” and “Built Ford tough.” Then there is Corey… the Chrystler. Style and Class.

That is why this blog is going to be funny. Not only funny, but inspiring. Funspiring if you will. And now that you have read this far I expect you here often.

And that’s all I got to say about the war in Vietnam,

B. Robert Frei

Introductions...

“You know me-I don't need no introduction and sh*t”. Those, my new friends, are the finely crafted lyrics of one of the most under-rated and under-appreciated artists of our time. I speak, of course, of the great Bryan Williams, a.k.a Baby, Birdman, or B-32. However, in the off chance that you don't know me and that I do need an introduction, allow me to take this time to do just that. I'm Brock Sargent and I'm a man. 6'3, 235 lbs of semi-rock hard muscle, dark skin, dark hair, kinda hairy, gregarious, apprehensive, funny, dull, witty, and doltish (yeah, I looked the last one up). Well, I think 11 adjectives is sufficient.

I approached this inaugural post in the same manner I would a major life decision because, well, it means that much to me. After days of prayer and fasting I went up into the mountains where I could clear my head and allow nature to guide my thoughts to the appropriate topic and content. Whilst in the middle of a meditative state it came to me that it was not only befitting but also necessary that I take it upon myself to explain, expound, and divulge the complexities that surround the relationships the exist between Mr. Frei, Mr. Nielson, and myself. And so without further ado here is the story....

The year was 1996, it was a typical fall in Santa Clara, UT, and Clinton was enjoying the end of his first term. As the children filtered out of their classrooms for a.m. recess on that first day of school at Santa Clara Elementary, they probably didn't notice the new kid hanging around by himself. This particular new kid had just moved here from California and was eager to establish himself on his new turf. So when a game a RAD (rebound and die for those who didn't have childhoods) started up, he quickly recognized this as a chance to prove himself. He got right in there and with above average size, athletic ability, and a will to win that rivals post-cancer Lance Armstrong's, he began to amass victories like the Angels win AL West Championships. Now, to say he began to turn heads on the playground would be an understatement. He created a buzz and his new found stardom didn't sit too well with the recently dethroned RAD, and Santa Clara Elementary for that matter, king, Mr. Blair Frei. Blair was your prototypical most popular kid in school. He was tall, good looking, mean to un-cool kids, dated the cutest girl, and had a mean set of Dr. Martens. There began our relationship, not our friendship necessarily, just our relationship. We were nothing more than acquaintances, but we both knew deep down that we would end up together. After a few more years of Blair being secretly jealous of this semi-popular kid's superior RAD and female attracting skills we finally became what you might call “friends”, and from that point on we were known as the twin towers (because where we come from 6'3 is out of the ordinary tall). This was the start of high school and little did we know the adventures we had in store. Now the purpose of this post isn't to dive into the details of the years and years of Blair's and mine experiences together but more to introduce the logistics of our meeting. So let it suffice to say that we had our ups, we had our downs, we laughed, we cried, we fought, we hugged, and now we sleep with his feet less than 2 feet from my face.

Now, onto the story of Corey Nielson. Okay, I have to be honest here. I literally have no idea where Corey came from, and I really don't know anything about the kid. He just kinda showed up one day, forced himself into our group, and hasn't left yet. I would kick him out, but he usually has cereal and ice cream laying around, of which I freely partake. So as long as the food supply stays readily available, I guess he can stay.