Organ Extravaganza

Okay, with the risk of sounding so cool that you'll melt at the keyboard, I decided tonite to write something of my artistic side. Everyone knows that girls want to date band members...you know, drumbers, lead guitarist, base players, mandalin players, and oh yeah, the lead vocalist. But, a little known fact is that there's one instrument that outdoes them all, yes, and that is the organ! All the girls want to date the organ player and you know it....actually i just made that up. No girl in their right mind would want to date an organ player, believe me, I am an organ player. You're lookin at the 35th ward organist baby! I've got so many dates I don't know what to do with myself...NOT! Now that we're all agreed on that point, we can move on. I play in sacrament 2 to 3 times a month and it never fails that I screw up at some point in the program. I dont' know what it is, I just can never have a perfect meeting on the organ. For instance, my freshman year at college. My first sunday at the organ I was super tired (probably because I thought it a good idea to stay out til about 2:30 in the morning the night before 9:00 church...bad combo). So there I was at the keyboard for 9:00 sacrament. I played a little prelude, aka the sacrament hymns cause I forgot to practice them, and was ending the song to let the bishop start the meeting. So on ending the song I stretched my foot out and pushed down what I thought was the volume pedal all the way down. Now you have to understand that there's a certain pedal that turns down the volume and then there's a pedal that if pushed in the exact same direction makes the feet pedals on the organ turn on....this is a distinction that I had not made yet. So I'm not gonna lie, bishop was a little/really boring with the announcemnts that sunday and I fell asleep at the organ, embarrasing I know, but it doesnt' end there. My feet were perched nice and firm on the foot rests on the organ bench, but as I fell asleep, my feet slipped off the rests and, you guessed it, came crashing down onto the foot pedals causing a horrific sound to emmenate from the pipes. So being asleep as I was it took my brain at least a good 2 to 3 seconds to realize what was going on, and by that point the bishop was already making his way over to me to rip up my temple recommend and banish me to outer darkness. Needless to say I turned redder than Rudolph's nose in about a half second and kinda just gave a shy little grin to the congregation...and the rest of the meeting followed suit with hymns sounding like funeral processions instead of praises of glory...not a good day. Then there was last month at the beloved instrument. I played "I Stand All Amazed" for the sacrament hymn, a personal favorite. All was going well by the last verse, I hadn't screwed up yet and the spirit was settling in for the passing of the sacrament, I go in for the final chord and....BAAAH, a wrechedly flat sound billowed from the pipes. I check the notes on the page, check my hand, double check the notes and still couldn't find the problem so I just lifted off the keyboard a half beat early leaving everyone holding a very confused and akward note by themselves for a good 2 seconds....akward. Luckily it was just before the passing of the sacrament so I just closed my eyes and pretended I was invisible. After the meeting the bishop came over and commented, "Gee Coby, you sure do know how to chase away the spirit, don't ya?" Yeah, laugh it up people, laugh long and hard cause deep inside, under my forced smile and weak attempt at a laugh....I was laughing histarically in my mind!! Laughing so hard my brain had a side ache. See, unlike some really stoic and seroius organ players, I love to laugh at my screwups, I figure it's my contribution to the aura of the meeting...right? The way I see it, the spirit didn't really leave, per say, he was just on the ground rolling with laughter. He just had to recover a bit and get back into character. It happens to the best of us.

The Organ Bandit rides again!!!

Do you bleed blue?

Okay, so I know it's been a while since the last post, but you can thank Organic Chemistry, Cell Biology, Physics, and Leisa for that. It's not that akward things don't happen, just not as many happen in the basement of the library in the dark corner where I study....you're jelous I know. But now I'm back and ready for a laugh, and this post is a special one. COUGARS UNITE!!! Yeah, you heard it Dallon, I bleed blue, but not that murky, aggie-contaminated blue, the true blue, COUGAR BLUE. And in light of the super-duper-awsome-amazing-ridiculousy-exciting event happening this weekend I am writing today. If you don't know of what I speak of you probably live in a cave in isolation (or you're my brother Tyler and hate following sports...almost the same thing though). IT'S TIME FOR THE HOLY WAR PEOPLE!!! This year's game is gonna be just as intense and cut-throat as ever. And guess what, this cougar has infiltrated the ute ranks. Last weekend, 10 friends camped out in line to get tickets to the game. Of those 10 friends, 8 of us were cougar fans....and we were deffinately not alone as blue-blooders. And that's the key, strength in numbers. I think I might die if I went alone dressed in blue. If you haven't noticed, I'm not too large in stature (I know, shocking). I'm fast, but I don't think I can outrun all of the flying beer bottles and cups of "special apple cider". But that is why I have big friends...they make really good shields, and on saturday I'm gonna need a few of those barriers.
Ya see, my mouth tends to run on the big side and just ask anyone that went to high school with me and they'll tell you I like to have my opinion heard. Sometimes that's a good thing, but most times it's not so good. I think the coined phrase is "Nepoleon complex"? Price boys tend to be diagnosed early with the disease. That's why Tyler and I almost died more than a few times in childhood....and why I'll probably die on saturday (I'd like oak for my casket please). So if you don't hear from me for another little while, I'm proabaly in the hospital recuperating from a glass bottle to the head or being trampled....but man is it gonna be worth every second of it. "Rise and shout the Cougars are out!"

The Emplyee Health Specialist

Alright, today's is a dusey. I'm sure that everyone at least once in their life has had to have a physical for sports, work, or girls camp, but let me tell you, they don't get any less akward with age (like I'm old...). So this morning I had to get a "health screening" so I can volunteer at Primary Children's Hospital (just in case I'm on crack). It was all very nice and comfortable for the first twenty minutes or so, consisting of the usual questions ("have you ever eaten something bigger than your head?", "are your hands bigger than your face?" you know, the usuals). Then she gets out the needles, which I'm okay with so I act as macho as possible and say "Yeah, I dont' mind needles at all...my brother on the other hand"....(sorry Ty, couldn't help it. Remember the little birdy on the pole? HILARIOUS!). So after the tetnus and TB shots she gets out this little cup and tube.....um excuse me, what's that for?...then the paper comes out that's labeled "Speciman Receptical Instructions".....I see where this is goin', and I don't like it. Then I think, "oh crap, I already used the bathroom like 30 minutes ago!" Then ensues the mini panic attack. She leads me down the hall and stops at the restrooms....opens the door, steps aside and says, "just fill it up to the black line, don't flush or use the water, then show me the sample." I enter the bathroom, but she doesn't go anywhere. OH COME ON!!! At least go around the corner or something! Talk about the most akward experience of my life!....almost. I think it can be counted as one of those "World Wonders" (are we up to 7 or 8 now?), that whenever someone gets in this type of situation that they always manage to "fill it to the black line". Then you have to show the dang thing to her ("wow, you're really dehydrated"...akward), and she tells you to transfer it to another little test tube dealy (Do I get gloves for this part or what?). Finally it was over and I grab my bag and ditch out of there as fast as me and my Buggs Bunny bandaid could go. After such an experience I contemplated, " Do I really want to be a doctor and make people feel akward all the time?"....heck yes I do!! It'll be payback for all of my akward moments!

Man Hands

Okay, MEN, today's topic is of extreme importance. With the whole world preaching acceptance and tolerance, sometimes it takes it tooooooo far. Hands are a very simple thing. We use them every day as tools, implements of the human life with which we sculpt of our lives out of the clay God gave us. That's what they are, and that's what they should remain, tools. Especially for men. It seems that the world today has confused the word tool for a-soft-squishy-delicate thing. Sitting in chemistry lecture the kid sitting next to my friend (who is female), held up his hands and tried to show off that his hands and fingernails were in better shape than my friend's (which they were sadly). Okay, I draw the line right there. First, if I had girly hands (no offense Dallon), I wouldn't brag about it. Men's hands should be just that, MAN HANDS!! Personally I am very proud of my hands. Ask anyone and they'll tell you I have "old-man hands" or "wrinkly man hands", BUT THEY'RE STILL MAN HANDS, full of calloses, scares, and character. Granted I take care of them so I don't look like Wolverine with foot long nails, but I couldn't care less if my cuticles are dry and flaky or that my skin isn't nice and soft. That's what girls do, and so should it be. Women are genetically and characteristically softer, more docile creatures, which can be expressed through their nicely soft and oft-times nicely smelling hands (that's my personal favorite ;) ). BUT AS MEN OUR HANDS ARE OUR TOOLS!!! A saw blade that is nice and soft can't do squat except mess up the job you're doing. So this is a clarion call to every male within sound range. KEEP YOUR MAN HANDS, DON'T SUCCOM TO THE WORLD!! Go out and rub them on the cement if you have to, anything, but don't let them turn into the completely useless butterfingers that the world wants. If you can't tell, I feel extremely pastionate about this subject. VIVE LAS MANOS DURAS!!!

NEW RULE

OKAY NEW "COBY'S-BLOG" RULE: IF YOU READ IT RESPOND!!! Leave your innermost thoughts, another tidbit of something that happened to you....anything! I get bored really fast so you should say something.

My "ugly" blog

okay, I've just had a recent complaint from a certain someone (cough cough Amber cough cough), not to meniton any names, that this blog is "ugly". First of all, it's not "ugly" it's "unique," and second of all.....second of all.....I can't remember how I changed it in the first place so if I wanted to change it couldn't. There! Is that what you wanted to hear, that I'm technololgically illiterate? Well I am. And what's so bad about that? I think that more people should be technologically illiterate. That way, those that do know what to do will still have a job and get that warm-fuzzy feeling for helping someone, and the rest of us can keep complaining about how much they charge. For instance over the summer my dad and I experienced a little "technical difficulties" with the computer store. We took the stinkin computer in to get it overhauled (the same computer with this store previously "fixed" 4 months ago). Then we bring it home and it goes crazy and has a disco party on the screen and won't boot up.....problem. So we take it back and they "fix" it again. We bring it home and I take it down to Salt Lake for school. Before leaving my dad turns it on to make sure it works. Once again it goes into party shock and once again it doesn't start....problem....BIG problem. So Dad and I flip out and take it back and demand our money back cause they "fixed" the computer. Now you're probably thinking "why the heck did he just write about that?" well let me tell you. I learned a very valuable lesson: Never take your computer to a store with employees who have 2 foot mohawks, wear death-metal t-shirts, and go by the name of "Killer," it just never seems to work out. It's kind of like the blind leading the blind. One illiterate person fixing another illiterate person's problem of illiteracy. That will fly about as long as my old RC airplane did before plummitting to the ground...about 2 seconds. So next time you feel the need to call something "ugly" just feel grateful that that "ugly" exists so that your's looks "pretty" (or "groovy" for Amber). Opposition in all things, my children, opposition in all things.

Ryan Shupe & the RubberBand

Yes Heidi, you now have my permission to be absolutely jelous of me! A couple friends and I went to a Ryan Shupe concert at Thanksgiving pointe on Saturday night, and it was absolutely awsome! It was totally worth ever cent that I paid out. There was nothing akward or random about, just plain amazing-ness. So I just thought I'd let everyone know about it. The sweetest part of the whole trip is that Simon actually won something! They passed around these clipboards with glow sticks attached to them and everyone and their dog put their name down and at the end of the show they chose random winner and Simon got his name called and got a free CD and we all got a picture with the band. Oh, then I bought a Shupe hoody and had the band sign the sleeve....yep, pretty much the best night in the world.

Public Transportation

Okay, today was the best day yet. After a grueling 6 hours straight of class and study I headed to the trax station to catch a train up campus. The train had just left so I had about 25 minutes to wait for the next one. Seated next to me (see photo above) was a young girl who looked emotionally distrought. I know what you're thinking, I talked to her and helped her find solution to her quagmire through the gospel, but no I did the exact opposite. I put in my headphones like I was listening to my music and allowed her a false sense of security (I'm the kid looking thoroughly engaged in his electronic device there pretending like he's not listening....ha, yeah right). Wicked, I know, but enjoyable by what followed. She perceded to call "Jeff", obiously the guilty party and boyfriend. Apparently Jeff had made comments after a full year of dating that he might like to go out with other girls.....(after a comment like that, you're dead as a doornail Jeff, even I know that)....to which "Suzy" did not take kindly to. Then, for what turned into a 30 minute discourse by Suzy, which lasted the rest of the wait and the whole ride up campus, on the topic of what was a "long turm relationship." I couldn't help but chuckle at the conversation. First because she was in a very public place and by this time there were 3 or 4 other people "nanchalantly" listening in. The whole time I wanted to scream at her, "YOU'RE IN PUBLIC! WE DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR FAILED LOVE LIFE!" We can hardly handle our own for pete's sake (who is pete by the way?). Secondly I laughed because obviously Suzy and Jeff were not on the same page with the whole "long term relationship" thing. And quite frankly, I'm with Jeff. If after a year you've become bored with a person, why would you think it would last 4 more years, or for us long-term-goalers, eternity? So after today I have come to two very important conclusions. First, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never (enough?) talk about personal things in public because one way or another it will make on to the internet......oops. Second, if you're going to mantain a "long term relationship" make sure it's with a person that can surprise you every day with something new you haven't seen before (and no this does not include mercedes or lamburginis or feraris), and make sure as heck that you can do the same or you'll be the one like Suzy trying to define "long term" with such short sighted peramiters.

The Doily Effect

Okay, today's topic is related to the doily in the above foto. I was setting up for an activity at the institute last night and my buddy Spencer and I made a very interesting observation that I think as been made before but deserves further attention. Subject one: the art of the doily. The art of the doily has been isolated to certain cultural cirlces....mainly the intense-Relief-Society-mormon-sisterhood circle. Notice I don't mention men in that ingenious name. It seems that this gift has (gratefully) been lost in mormon men. While strolling around the institute, Spencer and I saw the brothers and sisters of the local student stakes having their meetings. We pass the brothers and they're seated in a botched semi-circle with someone with horrendous hand writing scribbling something resembling the meeting's agenda on the board. They're talking about last weekend's football games (all of course are by now qualified ESPN analysts), how many girls they've tried to ask out this week (the number grosely over exagerated), and acting like they are all "The Man." Then we walk by the sororities...a whole different ball game. They had their seats in a perfect cirlce (measurements were made beforehand) with "cute little ribbons" on the back of each chair which were labeled with the names of each sister (which were carefully planned and plotted out to garauntee maxmimum fellowship). Then, there sitting on each chair was the doily. Not just nay old doily, no, but a doily attached to the agenda. I mean, what would a meeting be if no one knew what the conducting officer's favorite color was? A total waste, that's what. They're talking about how they did 1000 things at the same time today (because everyone knows that a good sister can multi-task), and how many creapy guys asked them out in the last week (the number grosely under exagerated). Another interesting result of these meetings is the distinct arroma that eminates from each room. They brethren smell like your highschool's freshman locker-room while the sisters smell like the latest "Herbal Essences" product. So I submit the question: Which cultural stereotype is worse? I contest that the frats have it made. Just K.I.S.S it. Keep It Simple Stupid. See, if you K.I.S.S., you save time, money, and the worry if the sisters think your scrapbook skills are up to par. The problem with the sisters lies in "the doily". Thanks to recent productions of "the RM" and other LDS films we've seen that Relief Society center pieces can get way out of hand. So the leftover energy from the lack of a center piece has been converted into the doily effect. Everything has a doily now. Visiting teaching assignments have to be magnets with a cute little phrase to make the sisters feel all guilty inside if they don't complete their assignment. Activity announcements are a class unto themselves, complete with rivets, ribbons, and rasberry perfume to lure more sisters in. A word to the wise: Sisters, if someone is not going to an activity, a cutesy little ribbon is not going to change their mind. Just do what the brethren do, lure everyone in with an intense game of out-of-shape church ball, and go around with the biggest van and round up all the ones that were too lazy to get off the couch. It works like a charm. Bloody noses are such an effective way to bond, and if you lean just right it makes such a nice design on your t-shirt. That's kind of a doily, right?

The Language Barrier

Okay this post is for all those bilingual people out there. Especially the spanish speakers. Have you ever had that really akward experience of starting to talk to someone in spanish who you thought spoke spanish but didn't? Yeah, that totally happened today. There I was just waiting in line to get my lunch at the Union, listening to the only spanish music I have (Juanez, "mi sangre" yeah baby!), and then I see a "spanish-looking" guy at the register. Call me racist, a racial profiler, or just plain stupid, but I went for it. So I start, "hola, como estas?"....and then the silence ensues....more silence....I think, "maybe he didn't hear me" and I repeat the greeting. Then he slowly looks up to me and says (with a not-so-nice tone in his voice), "I don't know what the F&*%@ you just said, but it wasn't english." Yeah, talk about akward. I think my face turned as red as the Coke cup I was holding and I felt as dumb as Brian Regan in a spelling contest. It would be okay if this was the first incident, but no, there have been many: the girl at church; the man on TRAX, a fellow construction worker, and the random kid wearing a mexico shirt and blaring Banda in his car (yeah he deffinately didn't speak spanish). So here's a warning to all you RM's: It's better to be 100% sure they speak it (and want to speak it), than to be a 100% certifiable idiot. I know in Matthew it says to let your light shine, but just don't blind people with it, they don't react very well.

The Bathroom

Well, the first blog....what shall I write about. Aha! We'll start basic. One of the most basic functions of life...the bathroom. See I live in a house with 12 people (6 guys 6 girls) and....drum role please.....2 bathrooms! Well, if you haven't already gasped in disbelief, you're timing is off, because I'll let you in on a little secret: 2 BATHROOMS IS NOT ENOUGH FOR 12 PEOPLE! This morning I woke up bright and early at 9:30, confident that I would have more than enough time to shower and get ready before my ride (aka my mom) came to pick me up for a baby blessing. Oh how I was wrong. Ihad flashbacks to all the "running of the bulls" clips I've ever seen on TV. As soon as one person even thinks about using the bathroom everyone else makes a mad dash for it. And I always manage to get the memo last. I had to wait 2 hours to even manage a shower (with cold water I might add). In the meantime and I managed to read two articles on the church website, clip my fingernails, and even resorted to organizing my desk for the hundreth time (Heidi, you would be proud). So after an extreme-makeover desk edition, a little lite reading with Neal A. Maxwell (aka read with a dictionary and a thesaurus), a personal manecure, and helping an old guy find the married-student housing (buddy you should have graduated a long time ago!), I finally made it. Memo to self, taking a shower is never a gimme. Oh and another amazing thing about our bathroom is that a girl lives just to the right of it! Yeah, that's not akward walking into the bathroom and seeing a member of the opposite gender watching you go into the bathroom. "Hey how you doin'?! I'm just gonna use the bathroom right now, hope you don't mind." Well let me tell you, it's very weird.