Startisha

Well, the Seventh Seal (finals week) has been opened, so I have been studying like a Korean molecular engineering student named Pho Kung Phet. At about 11 pm last night, the roommates and I decided that we needed to get out of the house for a bit, and maybe go use the free wifi at a late night coffee shop.

Thirteen minutes later, we were unpacking our laptops and books for a little study sesh at Salt Lake Coffee Break, located in downtown SLC. About the time that I started to purposefully distract myself by surfing the web instead of reviewing a web article for class, an odd site caught my eye.

This young black girl, maybe 22, came walking into the coffee shop with no shirt on. Don't worry, she had her brassiere on... kind of. Actually, her "situation" was a little discombobulated, and her right nip was completely periscoping from the top of the cup, but thats neither here nor there. Other than the indecent exposure, there didn't really seem to be anything else amiss with her.

I tried not to stare as she walked behind me, but I couldn't help but keep her in my periph, just in case any other shenanigans went down that I needed to witness As my luck would have it, she pranced over to our table and stood right next to me. Like, her hip was about to touch my right shoulder and I could smell her breath. She dropped a coupon to try Sprint's new service plan on the table and walked off without a word. A few minutes later, she came back and stood in the exact same spot, and pulled a stack of photos out her back pocket. As it turns out, they were a stack of those little proof photos that you get when you develop film at Wal Mart. You know, the kind that have a thumbnail of every picture on the roll. She carefully reviewed each proof, and then laid it down next to me for approval. After a minute of this, I summoned my most "what the hell?"-face and said "So... are these yours?"

Not looking me in the eye, she just responds "Be my guest. Just be sure to leave them to the owner when you are done. He will give them back to me". I glanced at a couple of them, and they consisted of completely random photos of her face, the Salt Lake Temple, a couple shots of Dicks Sporting Goods at the Gateway mall, and a few pics of some car tail lights.

As I was formulating a reason for why this chick was acting completely loony, I looked up from the proofs at the same moment she was launching into a full pirouette, all the while singing along to "Billie Jean", as it was playing on the house stereo system. She stopped for a moment to glance at a flier, gave it a laugh, and then went back to "... be careful what you do, don't go 'round breakin young girls' hearts, Yeaah eaaaah.". For the grand finale, she went into full out gymnast splits to grab a flier that was laying on the ground, and walked silently out of the coffee shop.

Scout's honor, I didn't just make this up.

Stuff White People Like

This blog slays me. At last, a comprehensive list of things that sums up the average Caucasian. Aren't stereotypes bad/wrong? No way man. There's a reason stereotypes exist: cause they're true.

My own contributions to the list of stuff that white people like:

-wearing sandals with jeans
-facial piercings
-smoothies
-rock climbing
-coupons
-Seinfeld
-sport sunglasses
-surfwear
-cycling
-mediocre restaurants
-festival concerts
-tattoos containing designs from distant cultures
-yoga
-stickers on their car
-American Eagle

Secure in my masculinity

I just did something borderline h-mo... I am not sure why I feel it necessary to divulge such things in Spit Hot Fiyah, but maybe its to give you all a better insight as to what makes me tick, my quirks, my strengths, and my cunning. I'm kind of a funny guy.

Anyways, I just purchased 4 near-front row tickets to John Mayer, who will be shredding Salt Lake on July 21. These babies were expensive...thank Jah Jah for the Visa. Thats not all, I actually paid $25 a few days ago to join the Local-83, which is Mayer's official fan club. Local-83 members get first dibs on presale tickets, access to the pre-concert soundcheck, and a bunch of other crap. Clearly, you can see that paying club dues was necessary to ensure that I will be sitting within spitting distance of all the shred.

H-mo? Yeah, kinda. But... if you older folks had the chance to see Stevie Ray Vaughan or even Hendrix from that proximity, you'd have done the same thing. Thats right, I compared them.