Umm... Carlton Banks Anyone? Part II

Funny, I don't seem to remember Carlton having those dance moves.

Umm... Carlton Banks Anyone?

First off, Janeen Brady FTW. I was raised on her Mormon inspirational children's tunes. I still recall running around uncontrollably with my brother and sister to "See Me Run". The very thought of the song causes me to begin foaming at the mouth. This song is a Janeen Brady classic.

Second, CARLTON FREAKING BANKS! MORMON COMMERCIAL! This must have been when he was visiting cousin Will in West Philadelphia.

The People Have Spoken: LACEY'S BLOG

Ladies and gentlemen...
Today is a day of monumental importance. It is the day that one voice became many, and many rose up as one. It is a day when several individual souls rose up and stood together in a spirit of unity, demanding that their fundamental needs be met. MORE LACEY!

Today is the day...

LACEY'S BLOG

Landscape Architect FAIL!

So, I'm working a bid for an apartment complex. After taking a closer look at the type of concrete curbing this job calls out for, I'm not sure we're interested in that type of work. Let me reiterate that this is in fact an estimate that I am actually working on.



How exactly does one install excreted concrete mowcurb? Sounds labor intensive.
(Note: It is supposed to read "EXTRUDED")

Petition for a Lacey Blog!

Are you sick and tired of going through your day without access to the inner-most thoughts of everyone's favorite Lacey? Well then, let your voice be heard here in the comments section below. AMERICANS FOR A LACEY BLOG! Let's take back Lacey. This is a Lacey I can believe in.

Trumpet Fail.

Dear Blogosphere,

Trumpeting Thunder has ceased to be awesome, and has decided to format his "pink elephant" pink blog in such a fashion that a maniacal right wing REAL AMERICA politician is censoring our freedom of blog speech, and blocking the people's blog links to such an extent that blogstalking has become nearly impossible.

Will we STAND for this injustice? Will we let the trumpet of tyranny blaze in our pathetic pondscum plebian ears, or will we fight?? I say FIGHT! FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO BLOGSTALK!!!!

From the great representative of the people,

Mrs. Thunder, aka, Thunder Hooves.

Just Another American Saturday (Friday) Night

Brad Paisley concert tonight!

I AM NOT ASHAMED!

Send The Message Tonight!

My hero... remixed.



I love this guy because he is a caricature of actual American politics. Is he really that different than the rest of our hyperbolic fear mongering politicians with their divisive politics and all of their doom and gloom? This guy is a breath of fresh air if only because he has dropped the facade. VOTE PHIL DAVISON!

The Dan Lance Beebe Answering Service

A sales person called my work. I answered the phone,
"This is Dan".
She replied "Is Lance Beebe there?"
I responded "this is Dan Lance Beebe, how may i help you?"
"Are you the owner, sir?"
"Yes I am."
"Do you take credit cards?"
"No"
"Are you interested.... blah blah blah?"
"I don't trust credit card companies. I think they're trying to steal my house."
"We also offer websites..."
"What's a website?"
"A website is something your customers can access..."
"Oh, you mean those pictures you see on those... those... computer things?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe in computers, so I'm not interested. Thanks."

The Great Salt.... Wait

It's hard to skip rocks when the actual lake is miles from the high water mark. Even so, our Great Salt Lake adventure was a success. First, we took pictures of the sunset as seen from an abandoned building.





Afterwords we started trekking towards an optical illusion which we believed to be the shoreline. After a fifteen minute hike we realized how far away we really were. We decided we were close enough.

After we hiked back to the car we tried to drive towards Magna, but instead ended up at a landfill. During adventures more often than not, the destination is the least important part of the night. The most important part: being stranded at a landfill with a killer on our tails. Either that or the massive banana split I ate once we got back to Sugarhouse.



All in all, as I've made abundantly clear, today's adventure was more fun than anything you people did. So there.

Destiny Accomplished... Sort of.

My hunger is deeply satisfied, and I am happy to see that Lorraine has posted our honeymoon pics on facebook. New Orleans was incredible. More to come on that later.

In continuation of my attempt to embrace my destiny, tonight Lorraine and I are going to skip rocks in the Great Salt Lake. A true adventure.

Del Destino

It's time for lunch my friends. It's time to envelop myself in the warm embrace of cheap faux-mexican food. It's time for Del Taco.

Bubble Tape-Colored Blog

It's that time of year. Time for the pink blog and its accompanying renaissance of blogging thought.

28. Looks like I won't be joining the club.

Birthdays for me have never been a big deal. For the past several years, I have requested the gift of waiting to celebrate for a few weeks until my dad's birthday and having a joint party so as to avoid the full brunt of birthday attention. As much as I appreciated the affection of my family and friends, I preferred to have my birthday be as unnoticed as possible. Well understandably, Lorraine wasn't going to let me get away with that this year, as my birthday doubled as our one month anniversary. Let me just say, that the past month has been unbelievable, and I've never been so happy and excited for the future.

My 28th birthday has to go down as one of my all-time favorites. First, Lorraine made me pancakes that said words. She also allowed me to put them on a plate that says "You are special today". I like to think that I am special on other days as well, but I'll take whatever recognition I can get.



Garit took me out to eat at our favorite lunch haunt Wallaby's and we discussed infusing my camera with science.

After work Lorraine took me to a Middle Eastern restaurant called Mazza Cafe and I lost my mind, the food was so good. I highly recommend it for anyone looking for something a little different up in the Salt Lake area. I was like Bob Wiley eating hand-shucked corn.

When we got home Lorraine had made me an amazing cake with jam in the middle and homemade whipped cream topping. I ate seconds even though I was full and I also ate some more for breakfast this morning.



Thanks for everything, my friends and family! It's good to be loved.

Hair Salon Waiting Room: The Tension Builds

Recently Lorraine and I have both become exasperated with our respective hair situations. Lorraine finally broke down and decided to get her hair cut, and I came along. So here I sit, stealing wireless from the Starbucks next door. Hair cuts are always really complicated for me. First, I never know what I want to do. For example, right now, I oscillate between wanting a slight trim, a long hair style, a short hair style, and a self-buzz cut on an almost daily basis. This always seems to be a problem because when I show up to a stylist, I have little to no input, and inevitably, I get an ugly haircut. This leads to complication #2. I work under the assumption that these people are experts on what hair styles look good on me. Therefore, when they finish cutting, and I look at the damage, I am either too unsure, or too nervous to call them out. So the haircut looks stupid, and I'm stuck with it until my next haircut or until I shave it all off. So despite the fact that my hair is driving me crazy, and my hair is broken and split and pretty much awful, I just can't bring myself to do anything about it. Sitting here, in the salon waiting room, I feel the tension build. The inevitable day of reckoning is on the horizon. It is just a matter of time.

Close Call.

Every morning I pry myself away from Lorraine and commute from our Sugarhouse apartment to Pleasant Grove. It is a forty minute commute, but it is against commuter traffic, and therefore is generally uneventful.

This morning I was running about ten minutes late and so I made my way over to the fast lane and hit cruise control going just under 75 MPH, with the flow of traffic. As I neared 90th South, about fifteen minutes into my drive, I saw a man on a motorcycle directly in front of me. He was on one of those glorified freeway scooters and was wearing both a full helmet, and a leather jacket. Thinking nothing of it, I continued on my way, driving directly behind him.

All of a sudden I visualized the man laying his bike down and bouncing under the carriage of my car. I envisioned the whole thing happening before my eyes, and even felt the thumping beneath my feet. I have never imagined an accident like that before, especially not so vividly. It made me so nervous, I immediately slowed down to give myself a generous following distance. As is typical in these parts, someone filled the spot I had just vacated directly behind the motorcyclist. I was very wary, although I couldn't explain why.

Within thirty seconds, traffic ahead stopped abruptly, causing us all to brake hard. The car in front of the biker slammed on the brakes, causing him to do the same. He couldnt stay upright and laid his bike down on the freeway, totaling it instantly. I watched in awe as he bounced and rolled violently, with pieces of his bike tumbling around him, just as I had seen it moments before. The pregnant woman in the car in front of me slammed on her brakes and missed hitting the man by about five feet. Despite my generous following distance due to my premonition, I missed her by even less. I have no doubt that had I not slowed down, I would have been directly behind that bike, and I would have crushed him.

The man lay motionless on the interstate, his leather jacket scraped and torn, his leg positioned awkwardly, but his head completely intact, minus some major gashes in his helmet. He was conscious, and thankfully one of the witnesses to the accident was a nurse. I stood by as he told her, in what I'm sure was a state of shock, how bummed he was that he'd ruined his new helmet. Anyway, I think he's fine. The ambulance arrived about fifteen minutes later and took him away on a stretcher.

As I stood on the freeway, emergency lights flashing, I watched the traffic merge into the three right lanes, rubbernecking as they passed. I watched two bikes drive by, two riders on one, one on the other. All three without helmets.

Want To Trade Your Peanut Butter Sandwich For My Caviar?

Sunday before last, Swell Season came to Salt Lake and we really wanted to see them. Unfortunately, tickets were a little out of our price range. The day before, Lorraine excitedly told me about a promotional contest that Whole Foods Salt Lake was doing on their Facebook page. The request was seemingly simple: "...Post your favorite brown bag lunch. We'll pick our fav!" Simple right?

Lorraine eagerly entered her selection:



This, Lorraine informed me, was in fact what she had eaten for lunch the day before. She explained, "Sure, it's pretentious, but I really want to see Swell Season!" I congratulated her on her solid plug of several Whole Foods products.

For those who have never shopped at Whole Foods, let me break it down for you. Their produce is all organic. Their chickens have never seen cages. Their beef has a better quality of life than you do... Minus the whole slaughtering thing. Ethnic foods abound. Health nut moms walk hand in hand with dreadlocked vegans. Tattoos and piercings are considered favorably when applying for positions there. In a nutshell, this place is way cooler than me.

Slowly, other entries trickled in. Each one more outlandish than the next: "Roasted eggplant" ..."nappa cabbage" ..."a thermos full of pho" ..."Ezekiel sprouted grain tortilla". I couldn't take it anymore! The indignation rose within me as this farce was paraded before my eyes. All pretenses of a "brown bag lunch" had been abandoned as the contest quickly spiraled out of control. I had to bring it back on course. I had to compile the perfect brown bag lunch.

Lorraine typed as I dictated each item after painstaking consideration.

"a pizza lunchables..." Plural or singular, it mattered not. I had to bring these people back to the lunchrooms of America.

"a capri sun..." I've never seen soccer moms break out thermoses of pho at halftime.

"flaming hot cheetos..." As I recall, elementary school kids in South Texas weren't suffering from ulcers as a result of too much roasted eggplant.

"and a go-gurt." What's lunch without a healthy dose of probiotics ...and high fructose corn syrup?

As we clicked on the comment button, immortalizing my entry, a monument to real American brown bag lunches, we knew what was at stake. A connection between myself and Lorraine would quickly be made. Their sensibilities would be offended at my brazen entry and all that it implied. We were sacrificing our shot at a great concert. It was a small price to pay.

I Am The Lizard King. I Can Do Anything.

The other day Lorraine and I watched a special about monitor lizards on Nova. It was really good. Jim Morrison, eat your heart out.

Watch the full episode. See more NOVA.

First Order of Business

...Okay now that my mortal enemy Be has been vanquished, and his blog-spam-bomb has been banished to the dark abyss of deletion from whence there is no return, I can now post the happy news that you all probably know.



Lorraine and I are married! WOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOO!

Our adventures have been legendary. Highlights to follow...

DAN'S BLOG STRIKES BACK!

親愛的敵人
我希望你會感到疼痛，
可恥的是你自己的祖先，
我希望酒店繼續蓬勃發展，
在中國台北，
停止欺騙自己
你是完全中國的母狗，
的問候，丹

This is a little message for my spammer-friend Be. I finally got around to deleting his spam comments, and I decided to write him a little note. Feel free to plug it into Google translator. Make sure it says Chinese. Enjoy :)

Now that my blog is cleaned up, I am feeling revived. Many more posts to come!