Utah: Now with 0.0005% more Mormon!

Yes, someone actually gave a shit enough to do a study. Apparently this is interesting because over the last several years the number of LDS in the state has been declining--albeit at a very slow rate--because of the influx of people who move to Utah for work and are not Mormon. Not that that's been much of a goldrush...just 1500 people moved to Utah in 2009, including my wife and me.

More here if you give a shit.

Letter to Wisconsin, circa 2004

I used to carry notepads with me to the bars in order to record my various thoughts about things. On closer, and more sober review, much of it is gibberish. Tough, I'm posting it anyway. I also used to write frequent letters to various people, places, and things that I found vexing. To wit, a 2004 (ish) letter to the State of Wisconsin:

Yo Wisconsin--
can I call you 'consin? Good. You can call me Al. I am writing b/c I saw your quarter. It's cool...I guess. I get the cow & the cheese, but Not the corn. B/C I am from Indiana, & WE make corn, NOT you guys. Also, WHAT THE ABSOLUTELY RAINSTORM FUCKING FUCK IS UP WITH "FORWARD"?! THAT SHIT DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE YOU DUMBASS!!

Apparently I followed up that letter with another one:

Dear 'Consin--
I thought you were cool. Why you gots ta hate? My newest friend "Honey" tells me that perhaps "Forward" really means "straight". Is it true that you may actually be trying to keep gay people from living there? It is totally NOT 1952. Get w/the times! What if Brett Favre was gay? Not that he is, I'm just saying, wouldn't you love him just the same? Don't hate 'Consin, appreciate.

No, I don't know either. Alcohol is a helluva drug. Bitchin!

Drunken Haikus

Recently I found a series of haiku that I forced drunk strangers in bars to write about 5 or 6 years ago. My plan was to approach complete strangers, say nothing, but hand them a pen and a piece of paper. At the top of the paper I had pre-written the following: "Hello. My name is John. You have 3 minutes to write a haiku on this page. Welcome to the game!" No, I don't have any idea what "the game!" was or why I thought it was necessary to write something so goofy. Also, my name is not John. Or maybe it is.

Anyway, only one or two people refused to participate initially. More often than not the person would initially openly ridicule and mock me in front of their friends, then proceed to actually concentrate and write a haiku. I like to believe this proves that my awesome has the ability to overpower trepidation and lameness. Enough of this explaining of things and more haiku! The following are transcribed exactly as written, grammar, spelling, and all.

Haiku One:
Hank was a great man
He went allot af places
His Hat fit him well
ZACHARY A BELL
[Ed. note: If you ever read this Zachary A. Bell, drop me a line. You deserve to be recognized for your haiku.]

Haiku Two:
Video Saloon
How I love to drink High-Life!
Only five dollars.
--Merett

Haiku Three:
i like tasty drinks
liquor flows in my belly
i will be drunk soon
*lauren*

Haiku Four:
Elvis was a narc
chasing squirrels in the park
man, pop cultures dark
--Aaron

Haiku Five:
I drink beer all night
Then I go home to
smoke weed
Get out of my sight
--B.O.
[Ed. note: I guess B.O. didn't understand the format of a haiku.]

Haiku Six:
Pabst Blue Ribbon is
as the bird flies south-western
good in my wet mouth
--Jay McClurey
[Ed. note: Again, Jay, should you read this feel free to contact me. Also of note is that this haiku was written many years before the current set of idiotic hipsters "discovered" PBR, so I guess that makes Jay ahead of his time.]

Haiku Seven:
I want beer
beer
deer
[Uh, this one must have been too drunk to join "the game!"]

Haiku Eight:
I don't know
Goddamn you fucker
Haiku is really tough here
I'm just drinking my beer
[This was illegible, but fortunately I asked for a translation and wrote it on the back.]

Haiku Nine:
I like sex a lot
I will have it everyday
If you will fuck me
--Tabby
[Creative!]

Haiku Ten:
blue jeans hanging low
asscrack has become the new
statement of fashion

Let's try something new

It's obvious I got bored with this blog pretty quickly--maybe not as quickly as some of you, but that's another matter. I have decided that I will keep up with the occasional posts related to Utah, but that perhaps I can keep my own interest going more if I discuss other things as well. As a result, this blog is now going to be fully as random as my own mind. Enjoy. Or don't. Whatever. It's up to you. Though if you do enjoy it, even a little, be sure and let me know. Or don't. Happy Sunday.

Cover Letter

Saw this ad on craigslist today asking for help to write a resume cover letter. What interested me about the ad is not the ad itself, but the fact that the person who posted it knew enough about the internet to be able to post to craigslist, but didn't think to google "resume cover letter".

State Liquor Issues Volume II

I've already explained the issue of the hours of operation for the State Liquor Stores here in SLC, but I wouldn't be doing this blog any justice not to discuss the shortfalls of the actual stores.

1. Nothing is sold cold. I suppose this is to keep you from immediately guzzling the stuff. No matter, you can still go and buy lower % beer cold at the grocery store. The problem comes when you actually want to drink a decent beer--in my case Newcastle or Peroni--which is not sold at the grocery stores.

2. No mixers of any kind. Not even bottles of Coca-Cola. No margarita mix. No sour mix. Not even margarita salt. No sir (or ma'am) you're going to have to go somewhere else for that.

3. No mini-bottles, half-pints, or pints. Again, I guess that promotes alcoholism. I suppose selling an entire fifth of whiskey is more likely to prevent alcohol abuse?

4. The wine selection is shit. There is a separate store for wines if you want a decent selection of wine (I'm told), but again you're going to be making multiple trips around town if you're planning to have a party or just to have a nice dinner.

5. Price. The prices of the warm beers are astronomical. Contrary to the anti-alcohol slant of the places, you can buy single (warm) beers--which is nice if you want to try something new. Of course there are only about 12 different kinds of beer at the store so you won't need to do that much. As an example: You can buy a single Peroni for $2 or a six-pack for $12. Compare that to the $12 that a 12-pack costs in the mid-west and you start to see what I'm on about.

Oddly, apparently you can bring small children in with you--and no doubt dogs too since I see people bring their dogs inside of almost every store I've been to in town so far.


Liquor laws in general are from the stone ages here. Aside from the issues with buying liquor at the stores there are the problems with the way in which they handle serving liquor at restaurants and bars.

Let's say you'd like a good glass of wine or maybe a decent beer. You're walking by a good looking restaurant and think you'll just pop in and have a pint right quick. Not so fast. You MUST have food if you are going to have a drink in a restaurant. Go back and read that again so that it sinks in. That means you cannot join friends and have a drink and not order food. What if you're not hungry or you've already eaten? Guess you shoulda thought of that first, heathen.

As for bars...there is some confusion on this issue because of the positive press Utah has gotten about this lately. Until July 1 of this year the bars here were run like private clubs. A patron was required to fill out detailed paperwork about themselves and pay an annual membership fee in order to have a drink in a bar. Utah abolished that requirement but some of the bars kept the club style because they liked the free money of the membership dues. What is often left out of the happy news of the change is that in exchange for getting rid of the private clubs Utah created a big-brother system to replace it. Now, when you enter a bar you must hand your ID to the bouncer who then scans it with a special machine. This machine stores all of your ID information for a period of time (some news outlets have said 7 days some have said 60 days) just in case you have a car accident later--that way they can prove you were in a bar beforehand.

As if that isn't enough, there is no free-pour of alcohol in Utah. No alcoholic drink can have more than 1.5 ounces of liquor in it, unless it is a mixed drink which can have no more than 2.5 ounces. Good luck ordering a Long Island Iced Tea then I suppose...

The most hilarious part of all this bullshit is that the people who live here really don't seem to understand just how ridiculous these laws are. To be honest, it is difficult to understand just how annoying the combination of all of these rules are until you spend a couple of days here. I am just happy I didn't move here from Kentucky or any number of southern states where they keep their laws off of your drinking--I can't imagine the shock of going from being able to buy cold single beers at a gas station 7 days a week, 24-hours a day, to living here. If you like to drink recreationally--or like it's your full-time job--I would recommend you stay far away from this entire state.

Whaddayoulookinat?

There is a pronounced difference between the people out East and the people here. It has been hard for me to figure out exactly what has been striking me as so odd because it turns out that these differences are somewhat subtle. I am going to do my best to try and explain...

The first thing that I noticed around here was an unusual refusal to speak when in close quarters. You know how it goes, you’re coming down an aisle in the store for example, and a stranger is blocking the aisle examining the array of hot dog buns or whatever. Maybe the person doesn’t see you coming, and you don’t really mean to inconvenience them, so your natural response is to say, “Excuse me” as you pass by. Now to be sure, this is not always an observed courtesy in all areas of the country, and even back East there can be times when you are made to feel invisible by the occasional jerk in a store. Here in SLC however, it is the norm to ignore everyone else. Not once, not one single time since I’ve been here, have I said “excuse me” and had the other person so much as look my direction. Not to mention when I was the person to whom the “excuse me” should have been delivered--boy oh boy is that EVER asking too much of the locals. They will walk by close enough to smell your breath, their clothes may even brush against your arm, and not say a single word or grunt for that matter. It is infuriating. In fact, I honestly would prefer it if they said, “Fuck you” as they passed. At least they’d be speaking a language I could understand. Nah, they’d rather just move on pretending you’re not there. Shit, even in NYC if you say “Excuse me” as you pass by they may not speak to you (though they often do) but they’ll at least look at you and move their cart or body out of your way. Not here though, we’ll just keep pretending you’re a ghost.

The second thing I noticed is very odd: they stare. And I don’t mean you happen to catch someone sneaking a glance at your shopping cart or checking you out physically. No, this is more like a direct, unflinching stare; the kind that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, like maybe you have a booger on your nose or your fly is down. It doesn’t really matter where you are in the town either...grocery store, parking lot, restaurant...wherever you are you can be sure that if you look up for a moment there is at least one person staring at you. Unlike the rest of the world, where when you catch someone staring they tend to avert their gaze quickly so as not to cause the stare-ee to feel as though they are being challenged. I’m sure this goes back to when we were animals living in the wild and seems to be a standard response understood by everyone over the age of 8. Not here though, where even the dudes keep staring even if you lock eyes--which is creepy, and in violation of the long-established man-law (Section 9, Paragraph 14, Lines 10-25) against locking eyes with another man unless you’re about to punch him. Also, the staring combines with the complete refusal to speak mentioned above to create the sense that these people must all either have IQs no higher than 65 or they’re going to murder you when you turn your back.

The third difference that has become more apparent is the overtly rude demeanor when they do actually get around to speaking. Uncharacteristically, I have waited quite a while to make up my mind about this because I wanted to be sure I was not just running across a lot of people having bad days. At this point, however, it has become clear that it is simply normal behavior for these people to not give a shit about what you may be asking or what you have to say--especially if it is their job to provide you with such assistance. [link to DMV] If you ask a question of someone you have a 60/40 chance that they will show some sign of annoyed body language before providing you with the minimum possible amount of information. Frequently this causes you to need to ask follow-up questions, which are almost always answered with a high degree of frustration--I mean, what are you some kind of idiot that you didn’t understand me the first time when I gave you the most vague, half-assed of answers?

Example: Today I had to call the benefits office of my wife’s employer four times to find out our health insurance ID number for the pharmacy. (We don’t have the cards yet.) The first three calls were me asking for the information and being given one sentence answers like, “You’ll get the cards in 2 to 3 weeks” [what does that have to do with anything?!] or, “It’s just her employee ID with 9-0-0 at the beginning” [oh, so I guess I’m supposed to be psychic. My bad.] The fourth call, however, was me asking why the pharmacy was unable to find us in the system. The lady on the phone, exasperated with my repeated calling--yeah lady, like I really wanted to call you four times this morning--proceeded to tell me, “Well the problem is that you just sent in the paperwork at the end of last week, on Friday, and now you’re trying to use it today.” WHAT? For those of you who know me, you will be proud to know that I did not snatch her bald-headed over the phone. However...who the fuck does she think she is? Is it not her JOB to make sure that when she informs someone of their policy number that the plan is actually ACTIVE? Oh but nevermind because now she will just interrupt me while I try to ask another question and tell me that if I’d just, “WAIT for FIVE minutes” she’ll have it active in the system. So, not only is she a bitch, she’s a bitch because I’m asking her to actually do her job.

I cannot wait until I get a job here, because apparently you don’t have to do anything once you get one.

So yeah, the people here are different. Also, no one over the age of 19 is without a wedding ring and at least two small children; hardly anyone can parent (I know that’s not unusual in America, but I find it odd in a place with so very many kids--shouldn’t they have mastered it by now?); and you cannot go anywhere here without hearing scream, trantrummy children.

Now, if I can just find the strength to explain what it’s like to drive here...

Liquor Store

Tried to go to the liquor store tonight at 10:05pm. Nope. Can't do that. God (Joseph Smith) forbid I might want to have a drink in the privacy of my own home. I mean, we all know that makes you an alcoholic. The liquor stores are owned and operated by the State of Utah. Yeah, you read that right. And not only that, here are the hours: 10am to 10pm Monday through Saturday.

Image courtesy of The Payphone Project website.

Just in case you thought this was America

I came upon this story today. Apparently the Mormons bought a section of Main Street from the city several years ago and made it part of their Mormonland Temple Funzone (TM), or whatever they call it. I guess since they own it you're not allowed to do anything there that they don't approve of, like kissing a dude on the cheek. I don't know about you, but it seems a bit overkill to ARREST someone for having a gay kiss on the cheek--and anyway, is a kiss on the cheek even gay? I mean, yes, these dudes are gay but I unless they were humping on the lawn then I doubt there is any way the guards could have known that before the kiss on the cheek. No matter though, the cops still picked them up because the Mormons told them to stop being affectionate on their lawn.

How the DMV works

In an effort to blend in more readily with the locals, and to try to stop all the road rage I have been getting--I figured it might ease up if I had Utah plates--I decided to go and get new license plates and a new driver's license. After looking up the DMV location online I discovered that there were only two DMV branches listed for Salt Lake. I chose the closer address and headed down.

As I walked in the door I was immediately confronted with three foot high cubicle walls arranged in some sort of corral. As there were no toddler office workers around I guess the point was to form a line. Of course, there were no people in line, so I had to do that awkward zig-zag walk you do through maze lines when there are no other people there so that when you finally get to the person who works there you feel like an idiot. After I had worked my Indiana Jones magic on the toddler cubicle maze I was confronted with what I can only assume is the hostess for the DMV. She was in her 20s and sitting behind some sort of hostess stand with a computer that she was clearly not using. As I approached she said nothing, just stared (I am noticing that this is a trend out here, but more on that later) and after a second I said, "Yeah well I just moved here and I need to get new plates for my car and a new driver's license." She was already looking at the papers I had with me, then asked me what year the car was. When I told her it is a 2001 she told me I needed to have the car safety and emissions inspected and directed me to a garage next door.

I drove next door to the garage, which was a small mechanic shop that clearly has the best location in town, parked in front, and started to get out only to discover that a car had quickly parked next to me with a red-haired older woman in the passenger seat. We waved to each other to give each other the right of way to get out first and finally she accepted my invitation. After getting out she stood next to my door for 2 or 3 minutes making it impossible for me to get out of mine--though she did twice look at me through the window (to make sure I was still trapped inside I guess). Finally we all go inside the garage office and I learn that she is the mother (mother-in-law?) of the shop owner. As I waited for them to inspect the car, Red, as we'll call the older woman, sat across from me drinking what I can only assume was straight vodka, maybe gin, with ice from a clear plastic insulated cup. She sat and made odd remarks while the shop owner's wife howled about how "great" all the little objets in the office were. Also, they loudly asked shop workers questions about Willie Nelson such as: Where does he live? Is he married? Does he still tour? "I don't know!" came the frustrated answers which were met, every time, with an intense and loud, "These are things we MUST know!!" [I swear to God]

Out of sheer boredom and the hope that I might somehow engage in this world of crazy, I looked up Willie Nelson on my phone. By this time it was just me and Red in the office. I turned to Red and said, "Willie Nelson is married, by the way." Red just looked at me and gave me the kind of smile you get from polite people who don't speak or understand a word of English. I paid for the car inspection and left.

I went back to the DMV, navigated the baby maze, and met with the hostess again. This time she pressed a button marked "Titles and Registration" on her desk and a piece of paper with a number on it was printed out. She handed it to me and told me to take a seat. So, what is the purpose of the hostess if she doesn't even lead me to my seat?!

As I am getting my plates the middle-aged Eastern European lady helping me tells me politely that they don't do driver's licenses there. WHAT?! Where do I get a driver's license then? "At one of the driver's license branches," comes the answer. Uh, does she know where one is? No, she doesn't off-hand but I could look it up online myself. WTF? So I look it up on my phone and discover that the license branch is conveniently located ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF TOWN. What kind of sadistic idiot decided it was a good idea to pay for separate offices for licenses and license plates?
Naturally after driving to the license branch which, appropriately enough, is located at the Utah State Fair Grounds, I discovered that I needed another form of ID I had not brought and had to drive home and back before being told I needed to take the open-book driving exam. Cost? $25. After passing the test (first try!) I got my picture taken and the man handed me a pink piece of paper with what looked like a b&w copy of my new license. I asked what it was and was told it is my new license. What? "They'll mail you the laminated one in two to six weeks, but keep your old Indiana license (which he had punched holes in to make it invalid) because sometimes the cops don't like these paper licenses." What? What? [I should have named this blog 'What?!'] So I guess the driver's license branch doesn't give a fuck. Actually, that's kind of cool, so I'll give them a pass.

Overall I'd give the DMV a C- for inconvenience and confusion.

Off Topic

So I am watching Mtv--cut me some slack it's a new town and I don't have a job yet--when I happened upon a show I didn't know existed. You know how Mtv makes new shows and you think it's definitely a sign that our society has imploded because there is just no possible way there could be a showcase for worse human beings? Well, they've topped themselves again with this one. It's called Teen Cribs. The premise is that they find kids with permissive parents who will agree to let the camera crews in their home and film it while the kids walk around embarrassing themselves. Allow me, if you will, a moment for a recap.

I missed the start of the show, so all I know about these kids is that they're brother (19) and sister (16) and that they live in Dallas. They're wandering around the upstairs of the house talking about how they love playing ping pong in the ping pong room and then showing off their "home theater" room which, for some reason known only to their idiotic parents, not only has the requisite sectional couch but also a bar and bunk beds with full sized mattresses (they make those?). Bro and Sis talk about how many of their friends they love to have over and how awesome it is to party there. One of their hangers on sitting on the couch--a requirement for Cribs is to have random losers sitting around your house while you give the tour, right?--tells the camera that "everyone" comes there to party "all the time". Oh, so they're those parents.

This is followed up by the siblings heading out onto their "private" upstairs covered porch that overlooks the pool. The brother then explains how "awesome" it is to hang out there and relax and says there are "great stories" about the things that have happened there. You want an example? He'll provide. One time his friend dropped his hat off the balcony and reached out to grab it and fell over the rail to the pool deck below and "shattered his leg". I hope this family is well insured. Scratch that, I hope they're not.

Finally we get to go out to the cul de sac...WAIT A MINUTE...they live in a fucking subdivision?! How exclusive is this stupid show?! Anyway, the kids show us their "rides". He has a Chevy Avalanche which he tells us he doesn't take off-road much because he doesn't like to get it dirty--which I think in Texas means you're gay. Sister shows us her Nissan Xterra and tells about how she loves to drive around in it with the windows down singing with her friends--yeah, she's your typical annoying teenage girl at a stoplight.

The best part about this show was how there were interspersed clips from Dad explaining about how he's really glad they "have liked living here" and that he really just hopes that "they have wonderful memories of growing up here". HAHA, take that dose of reality kids, this ain't yo house! You didn't work for it so get out--and I'm pretty sure he's looking at you, 19-year-old deadbeat gay son.

The Move

For the most part our move was uneventful, provided you don't count the one or two or three boxes that didn't make it out here. Among the tragically lost items in those boxes:

• My record collection--including the irreplaceable family heirloom Georgia Bulldogs fight song LP

• A scrapbook I had made when I taught emotionally handicapped children--including my beloved death threats from the kids

• My college diploma (framed)

• My certificate of awesome* from the BMW Driving Academy (framed)

And various other items that I'm sure we will realize are gone months from now when we go looking for them. So far the moving company sent me a "claims form" so that I can request a payment for the items lost...as if that can help bring back my "Fuck you Mr. C, Die Die!" and "I'm sorry I said you should die. You're the coolest teacher ever" scrapbook pages!

*Okay, so BMW didn't give out certificates of awesome, but I am sure that I would an inaugural recipient of such an honor if they did. Provided they didn't try to make me pose for it with an X6 or X6M, because those are just nasty.


[UPDATE!] The movers called this morning and they have our missing boxes, so problem solved!

The randomness of this city is well exhibited by this picture I took today on State Street. Across the street from this spot is a bar called the "Mixed Emotions Club" and a scooter dealership. SLC is definitely a moped-loving place. Seriously, it's like 1992 up in here. At least they keep them off the sidewalk...for the most part. The only trouble for your average scooter rider is that SLC drivers really don't give scooters any respect...well or any other drivers of any other motorized method of transport either for that matter, but the post on drivers is one for another day.

Who tah? We Tah.

Okay, so we've moved here...now what? So far the weather has been nice enough and the people have yet to be terribly rude, so I'd say all-in-all things are going well. Thanks to anyone who cares to check this out. I will try to keep it entertaining.