Four-Nine-Seven
Greetings to one and all on another incredible Tuesday night in America. I'm posting late again, but it will be worth it in the end, possibly, probably, maybe. In the end, this may prove to be one of the biggest Issues of the entire year, so grab a pen and paper. You may want to take notes. Topics to be discussed: Discovering how they make fireworks, the second-greatest country in the world, my victorious return to stake softball, my latest company party, an unexpected acquisition, the Jazz's big moves, the newest installment of "The District: Season Two", and my newest celebrity friend. Well, not really a celebrity, but, uh... kind of. Anyhoo, what a Newsletter we are all about to experience. Together. Are we ready? On we go!
Do you know what always seemed like the coolest, most interesting job in the world? Making fireworks. Remember that? I think that a lot of kids growing up love fireworks and sometimes say to themselves, "Hey! It would be cool to find out how those things work!" Then one day you're stuck in a stuffy science classroom watching a video about how they make fireworks and you realize that it's probably the most boring thing in the entire world. Some things are just better left unknown.
**QUESTION TIME!!**
Q. "Dear Aaron,
Are you forgetting something?"
Just Curious,
- The Junior Mounties
A. I had a feeling you'd bring this up. It pains me to admit that this past Sunday was Canada Day and I failed to recognize it on Facebook and Twitter. I hurt on the inside for my neglect. Deep down inside. Please accept my sincerest apology as I hereby publicly take invite my Loyal Subscribers - and Junior Mounties everywhere - to take some time to retroactively celebrate the second greatest nation in the world, Canada! (SALUTE!)
Q. "Hey A-Town,
Riddle me this! How did Peter Parker get his powers? #SotT"
- @totally_psyched
A. How did Peter Parker get his powers? With a peck of pickled peppers? Or was it, perhaps, the prick of a poisonous sppppider? I just sppppat some sppppit. It was quite the sppppectacle.
Last week, I found out that Katy Perry has a cat named Kitty Purry. I admit, that's kind of funny.
Stake softball started up last week and this year I'm taking it seriously. I've got a little vendetta this time around because last year they failed to inform us that it was single-elimination and we got decimated by my rival ward to the tune of something like 17-1. I just want to win, dang it! So I rounded up some ward members and friends and we took to the diamond of overgrown grass last Thursday against a team of 99% men. It's co-ed and, due to the lack of females on their team, it was, technically, a forfeit. We split into teams and played anyway. It gives me great pleasure to announce that, despite the other team being allowed five outs in one inning instead of just three, we emerged triumphant in the end! I went 2-2 in two at-bats with a double and two runs scored. Additionally, we witnessed outstanding performances by two fellow A-Towners - Whitney Wilson scored two runs and Sam Dunford prevented a potential grand slam by a miraculous snag in left-center late in the game. Not too shabby! We've got the week off this week and will be back in action next Thursday night as we seek to lay waste to any and all competition that stands in our way.
Kaboom.
Q. "Dear Aaron,
Are you forgetting something?"
Just Curious,
- The Junior Mounties
A. I had a feeling you'd bring this up. It pains me to admit that this past Sunday was Canada Day and I failed to recognize it on Facebook and Twitter. I hurt on the inside for my neglect. Deep down inside. Please accept my sincerest apology as I hereby publicly take invite my Loyal Subscribers - and Junior Mounties everywhere - to take some time to retroactively celebrate the second greatest nation in the world, Canada! (SALUTE!)
Q. "Hey A-Town,
Riddle me this! How did Peter Parker get his powers? #SotT"
- @totally_psyched
A. How did Peter Parker get his powers? With a peck of pickled peppers? Or was it, perhaps, the prick of a poisonous sppppider? I just sppppat some sppppit. It was quite the sppppectacle.
Last week, I found out that Katy Perry has a cat named Kitty Purry. I admit, that's kind of funny.
Stake softball started up last week and this year I'm taking it seriously. I've got a little vendetta this time around because last year they failed to inform us that it was single-elimination and we got decimated by my rival ward to the tune of something like 17-1. I just want to win, dang it! So I rounded up some ward members and friends and we took to the diamond of overgrown grass last Thursday against a team of 99% men. It's co-ed and, due to the lack of females on their team, it was, technically, a forfeit. We split into teams and played anyway. It gives me great pleasure to announce that, despite the other team being allowed five outs in one inning instead of just three, we emerged triumphant in the end! I went 2-2 in two at-bats with a double and two runs scored. Additionally, we witnessed outstanding performances by two fellow A-Towners - Whitney Wilson scored two runs and Sam Dunford prevented a potential grand slam by a miraculous snag in left-center late in the game. Not too shabby! We've got the week off this week and will be back in action next Thursday night as we seek to lay waste to any and all competition that stands in our way.
The other week, I had a customer call in to my call center. I answered the phone. They asked if they could speak with a human. I asked if they could wait for about two minutes while I attempted to locate one. #ThingsIWishIReallySaid
True story: An online associate recently posted the following message - "My level of hotness is about to double... Signed up for my concealed firearm class!!!" ...and the chances of me never asking you on another date just doubled, as well. Girls with concealed weapons seriously worry me.
My company had its annual summer party last weekend at Utah's beloved amusement park, Lagoon. Before last year's company party, I think the last time I had been to the park was the ever-illustrious "9th Grade Lagoon Day," so it's not a place I go an awful lot. Let's get one thing straight - it's no Disneyland, but it's a fun little getaway if you've got a day to spare. ZAGG always knows how to throw a good party, so I was looking forward to a fun weekend with my coworkers. We had a big lunch together in the afternoon, along with the much-anticipated company raffle. Last year they gave away a few laptops and a bunch of other way nice stuff, so everyone was excited to see what would be given away and who would win. I didn't win anything last year, but they gave all the employees new iPods, so that was awesome. (Amy won a free DVD last year, which she reluctantly accepted after much coaxing.) Now that the company seems twice as big as it was last summer, I pretty much (and rightfully) assumed that there would be no free iPods, but that was fine. There were allegedly about 650 people in attendance, so the odds of winning one of the 90 raffle prizes was substantially lower than it had been in the past. There were a lot of really awesome prizes that were given away, ranging from golf gear to gift cards to "as-seen-on-TV" juicers. There were also a couple "grand prizes," including a 50cc Yamaha scooter, two all-expenses-paid trips for four to Disneyland, a cruise to the Mexican Riviera. I wasn't planning on winning anything, but I was secretly (ok, maybe not so secretly) hoping to win a pair of Jazz season tickets. There were two pairs of tickets given away and the first lady who won looked like she was just sentenced to lethal injection or something, so that made a little sick on the inside. "Re-draw! Re-draw!" I yelled, but to no avail. Every once in a while, I'd make a joke about the prize if the number they called was close to the one on my ticket. ("Aww, I was ten tickets away from learning how to golf!", for instance.) As the raffle continued and I remained prize-less, I figured two things: my odds of winning a Disneyland trip instead of a golf club were increasing, but, in reality, my odds of winning anything at all were decreasing. I tuned out for a second, but snapped out of it as the next number was called over the PA system. "Four-Nine-Seven!" Somebody just won the scooter. I looked down at my ticket. Then the voice echoed again in my head as it took a moment to register - "FOUR-NINE-SEVEN!" ... I took a harder look at my ticket. ... I just won the scooter. As if out of reflex, I pumped my fist in the air and made my way, shell-shocked, to the front of the lunch area to claim my prize. They obviously didn't have the scooter there for me to ride around the park, though that would have been incredibly fashionable, so they just had me sign my name on an envelope with a Sharpie. My hand was shaking really badly. I couldn't believe that I actually won something - and a freakin' nice scooter, at that! At this point, I still haven't picked up the scooter. It's waiting for me at a dealer in Salt Lake City that closes at 6:00 PM, which isn't entirely ideal with my work schedule, so I will have to arrange a time to go get it. The hilarious thing about all of this (other than the fact that I, A-Town the Great, won a scooter) is that my popularity with female coworkers has probably tripled since Saturday afternoon. Oh, and you can bet your sweet bippy that A-Town Webisode 9.0 is going to be the greatest thing you've ever seen in your life.
Is this the new me?
"Congratulations to Joshua Christensen on a very prolific and provocative blog entry [last week]. I laughed, I cried, it may have changed my life.
When David Robinson of the San Antonio Spurs retired (the year after Karl Malone did) was, in my opinion, the end of the 'Golden Age' of basketball. Up until 2003-2004, star players stayed on their respective teams and worked hard to earn their way to success. It's been 20 years since the "Dream Team" of basketball was put together and one thing that all the pundits agree on is that we will never see a team like this again. One special on ESPN stated that 'these guys put their egos aside for a greater goal.' That will never happen again.
I still say that if you put John Stockton, Karl Malone, Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Charles Barkley, Clyde Drexler, Chris Mullin, David Robinson, Patrick Ewing, 'Magic' Johnson and Larry Bird on the floor today, they would outclass, out-hustle, and out-compete the rest of the NBA."
- Michael Brunson
Amen, brother. Amen and amen.
Speaking of the Association, it's free agency time, which means there's movement across the league. I love seeing people get traded and swapped around from team to team. I'm not sure what it is, exactly - an I'm not being sarcastic or rude here - but I love seeing people change teams. The Jazz have made a couple huge moves in the last couple days, bringing former Jazz rookie Mo Williams back home and trading Devin Harris to Atlanta for UNC alum Marvin Williams. Honestly, I'm sad to see Devin go. I liked him. I know that a lot of people around here really hated him, but I thought he was a good player. I don't know much about Marvin Williams, other than that he's a Tarheel and got drafted before Chris Paul and Deron Williams. I suppose that would classify him as a draft bust, but I don't think he's a bad player. I think he'll be a decent addition and I think it will help our team improve. Shipping away Harris opened up the starting point guard slot for Mo Williams (or, as I like to call him, "Maurice"... *whistling noise*) and I think that will be good for him. He's a much different (and much better) player than he was when we let him go after his rookie season, so I am excited to see how he plays now. I'm sure the Jazz aren't done making moves here, either, as Raja Bell and CJ Miles are both begging to leave. I'm excited for this new team and really want to see them in action. (I'd by lying if I said I didn't try to trade my scooter for the season tickets.) I'll definitely find one way or another to get some Jazz tickets for next season. Who's with me??
Welcome back, Maurice.
The District: Season Two - Episode Four
When we last left "The District: Season Two," a wild bar fight full of hairy bikers had broken out in Denver, CO. We now rejoin our heroes...
So then Craig T. punches the guy in the face. The biker whirls around and Donny, grinning, smashes him in the head with a bottle, and Craig T. rejoins me to assist me in double-powerbombing him through a table and onto carpet that's thinner than school carpet. Pleased with ourselves (as I'm sure you can imagine we'd be), we proudly wipe the dirt from our hands and walk out the front door to the now-burning building. Donny suddenly realizes that our vehicle is missing and nowhere to be found. We converse for a moment about how to proceed from here - and then it hits me. It hits me like a steel chair in a three-way dance at Wrestlemania. We steal the bikes. Together, the three of us run around to the parking lot where, to our great dismay, a majority of the motorcyles have been hijacked, as well. Luckily, we do see two Harleys and another bike. Craig T. and Donny call dibs on the Harleys and I'm left with a little, black scooter. The license plate reads "497 PMU". I smile. And, hey - it's a free scooter. What's not to love? We know where to go. There's only one possible place. So we hit the road. We're headed to Mt. Rushmore.
Road trip!!
We're hot on the trail of Raymond Richards, who we recently discovered is the one behind the scenes of the Whoop Grass heist. We've got to stop him and we've got to make sure we stop him soon. From some additional information we had gathered before leaving the biker bar, we can clearly deduce what he's planning to do next. He's going to sabotage the Fourth of July fireworks show at the nation's most patriotic mountain. It's about a six-hour trip from Denver to Mt. Rushmore. Six hours, ten minutes, to be a little more precise, but my scooter's not the fastest of little hog in the herd, so to speak, so it takes us a little time. Luckily, we get there at 7:46 PM on July 3rd, so we've got a little bit of time to strategize. We quickly come to the conclusion that the best idea is to go in guns-a-blazing. Craig T. points out that we don't have guns. Donny asks if we should consider using disguises. Craig T. points out that we don't have disguises, either. Things aren't going well for us so far. As I pause to think, I gaze into the stony eyes of President George Washington, himself. My mind harkens back to a movie I once saw as a child where there was a bad guy's headquarters inside this very landmark. One way that the good guys in that show found entry and exit from said secret base was through the mountainous countenance of our Founding Fathers. Luckily, Donny just so happened to bring his rock climbing gear. You know. Just in case we ever had time to go spelunking or something.
"Belay on!" yells Donny as I secure my harness and begin to climb from the base of Mt. Rushmore. Up, up, up. Despite the underwhelmingly-small appearance of South Dakota's most famous geographical feature, it's not really as small as I thought it would be. It's a tough climb, but luckily I'm ripped and a fast climber. After a few minutes, I'm nestled safely beneath the chin of Theodore Roosevelt. Craig T. follows after me and he eventually joins me amid the setting Central-Time sun beneath the shadow of the Rough Rider, himself. As he settles in between the chins of Mr. Roosevelt and the Vampire Hunter, he asks me how Donny plans on getting up. I shrug and peer silently down the mountain to find our pious partner reaching into a pack on the back of his motorcycle. I see a small flame and squint to see what on Earth Donny is doing down there. Suddenly, he blasts toward the heavens as if he were flying. Was that... a jetpack?? Sure enough, Donny flies right up to the upper brow of Thomas Jefferson, slowly descends, and lands softly on his rump, looking happy as a clown. (Wrong choice of words, I realize now.) Shrugging, Craig T. unbuckles his harness and urges us toward the nose of President Washington. There's a hole in one of the nostrils, just big enough for a grown man to sneak in or out. Interesting. Very interesting.
A quick "Paper, Rock, Scissors" tournament determines that I am to lead the way. I inch my way closer to the nasal cavity, attempting to be as quiet as possible so not to inform our counterparts of our presence. The closer I get to the opening, the more I can smell something so foul and stenchy that I am nearly knocked unconscious. Whoop Grass. It had to be. Donny taps me on the shoulder and hands me a gas mask. Where he gets these things, I may never know. I strap on the mask and poke my head into the nose, which is, quite possibly, the strangest thing I have ever done in my adult life. Craig T. boosts me up and inside the stone face and I hop down onto a small ledge which, coincidentally, is just big enough to fit the three of us. I help my two friends through the nostril and onto the alcove and we crouch down to get a better view of our surroundings. It clearly had the look of some type of factory. We could see circus paraphernalia from wall to wall, ranging from animal cages, Jack-in-the-Boxes, and clown suits strewn across the floor. As we surveyed the large room, we all eventually saw it - there in the very back. Gallons and gallons of Whoop Grass, that toxic, fatal substance that had caused us so much tribulation in the past three episodes. And next to the gas tanks were boxes and boxes of imposing-looking fireworks. This was all going down tonight. Raymond Richards and his clown cohorts were planning something big - and it was only a matter of time before they attempted to poison and kill hundreds of thousands of American spectators during the big Fourth of July celebration. I turned to my left to face my companions, but - where did they go?? They're both gone! I whip to my right and my face smacks into what, from the quick glance I got, seemed to be some type of bowling pin, likely used for acrobatic juggling. Everything got fuzzy fast and then I felt myself collapse, out completely cold.
I'm not sure how long I was out, but as soon as I woke up, through the blur, I could see Donny and Craig T. They were bound and gagged, sitting across the room from me and looking helpless. I soon came to. I look through squinted eyes to try to get my whit about me again. Then the most hideous-looking clown I have ever seen walks through a door to my left. He slowly saunters over to me, occasionally skipping and chuckling as he comes. He stops right in front of me, leans forward so his face is squarely in front of mine, and says, "Hello, A-Town. My name is Raymond Richards. And this Fourth of July, you and both of your friends... die..."
TO BE CONTINUED!
--
I have some horrible news. Well, it's horrible for me, anyway. This afternoon, I got a phone call from a high-ranking CBS official. He had an important message to tell me. That message was that "The District: Season Two" has been discontinued due to insufficient ratings. Apparently, the revival of America's once-beloved television program has not recaptured even a fraction of the popularity it once had and CBS has decided to pull the plug on my most recent escapade. So... that sucks. Oh well. Guess it just wasn't as good as Craig T., Donny, and I thought it was. Maybe next time.
That's a wrap, sadly.
Well, let's get the heck out of here with the Shoutout of the Week. This week, the Shoutout goes to... Melissa Alatorre, previously of "Love in the Wild" fame. Yes, it's true - she just responded to one of my tweets on Twitter. I couldn't even remember who she was because she was only on the show for one episode. Here was our Twitter exchange:
@atownmania: "#LoveInTheWild is like glorified camping."
@m_alatorre: "It looks more glamorous on TV than what it really was, but still agree..."
Oh yes. I am so proud of myself. Now I can join my sister, Amy, in the exclusive group of family members that have been retweeted by "Love in the Wild" cast members. What a glorious, fantastic club that is. ... There it is. Of course. As if on cue, Amy just got mentioned by LITW's Ben for the second time. Dang you, sister. Always one-upping me.
Wow! That's about it for this week, kiddos. Seriously, though. Wow. What an incredible episode. It blows my mind that there may actually be some people out there in the universe don't actually read this. Wow. It's the best blog in the world. Anyway, it's late and it's past my bedtime. Oh wait. Tomorrow's a holiday. Let's stay up all night! Woooo!!
Until next Time,
Move It! Sell It! And Leave the Door Open!
Aaron
2 comments:
I watched Marvin Williams play in highschool.
That's nice. I have no idea who you are, but... good job.
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