Don't Leave Me Here, Patrick!

I love living downtown. I have the weirdest experiences. This morning I was awoken at 1:30 by some shouting outside. I pulled myself out of a daze quickly enough to poke my head out the window and see what was going on. My eyes came into near-focus as a young woman pulled herself up from the sitting position on the sidewalk. From what my blurry eyes could make out she was pulling her pants up and trying to run. At first I thought maybe I had barely missed seeing this girl getting raped. But as she ran into a parking lot she screamed, "Patrick!! Don't leave me here!" And she was weeping dramatically. "Patrick!!!" She screamed in complete distress. I didn't see Patrick anywhere near by. "Come back!"

Then she started running up the street in her flip flops. "Patrick!" She pulled her cell phone out and I could see from the glowing screen that she was making a phone call or sending a text, mostly likely to Patrick because he had left her there. "Boo hoo hoo" she cried. Then she was gone. I layed back down baffled by what I had just witnessed. Suddenly I heard her coming back. "Hello?" she said, answering a phone call. "Patrick! Come back. Don't leave me here." She resumed weeping melodramatically. Running in the opposite direction her frantic screams for Patrick faded into the night air.

I hope she found Patrick.

Hello, My name is Adrian

Last night I had a particularly awkward experience. My mom convinced me to go with her to the viewing of her Uncle Jess. I met my mom, Grandma, and Aunt Geri at the funeral home on South Temple, which I swear is haunted. While the ladies were taking a quick potty break before viewing the corpse, I took myself on a little tour of the facility. Sure enough, it was about 100 years old, which means it HAS to be haunted. I found a secret dark staircase that went to... I don't know where. The light on my cell phone was not bright enough to light all the way to the bottom of the stairs. A chill ran up me spine, so I turned around.

Well, that's not the awkward part. When we entered the viewing area there weren't more than 20 people, counting the dead body. My mom introduced me to some of her cousins. I have never seen these people in my life, but I pretended to be interested in knowing who each one was. Then one of the cousins came up and my mom introduced me. "This is my son Jon. Jon, this is so-and-so." (I've already forgotten the names.) She said, "Nice to meet you, Adrian." I was like, "What?" She was like, "Your name is Adrian?" I was like, "No, Jon. But close."

Anyway, after a few more similarly awkward experiences I decided it was time to leave. Afterall, you can only sit and stare at a dead body in a casket for so long before it gets kinda creepy. My mom walked me out to my car and while we were outside chatting her cousin pulled up and climbed out of her Expedition wearing a bright blue linen dress and white socks and white sandals. Pretty classy. I had to giggle. This cousin's name was Benet (like Jean Benet). She has a sister named Monet. I think their parents like French-sounding names.

So the moral of the story is that family can be the cause of some of the most awkward experiences in life. I hope when we get to heaven and meet all our dearly-departed that it isn't as awkward as my experience at the funeral home was. I'll just need to make sure my heavenly name tag clearly says "JON" so no one confuses me for Adrian again.

Classic Peg

This is hilarious. You must watch it at least 5 times until you think it is as funny as I do.

Why Do I Feel Bad for Homeless People?

This morning when I was returning home from the gym I was stopped in my drive way by a man. He was homeless, as I found out later. He asked if I could do him a favor. I listened to his tale of misery and wo. He got permission from the "father" of the LDS church down the street to sleep behind the building. Well he left his sleeping bag and blankets there the night before, and when he returned someone had stolen them. So he walked over to the Sacred Heart Church down the street and slept there. A kind woman had given him a quilt to sleep in, but at 2 in the morning the sprinklers came on and drenched him. Poor guy. Well, he was waiting for the alcohol sobriety facility to open, although he was "not an alcoholic." He asked if I could give him some change to go to the Burger King and get some breakfast. Well, there I was standing in my gym bottoms and the only thing I had on me was my gym membership card, my phone, and my keys. I told him I didn't have anything but really wished I could help out.

Now, here's the moral concern of the day. I told him I wished I could help. I really did feel bad that he had to sleep behind the church, that he got his livelihood stolen, and that he got soaked by the early morning sprinklers. But if I really wished that I could help him I could have gone inside and gotten a few dollars from my wallet. Or gone to my car and given him the little sack of change I keep in the glove box for emergencies. But I didn't. And as I soaked myself in a nice warm shower I thought that I should go find the man and give him some change to buy breakfast at Burger King. But I didn't go find him.

Next time I will help. I think.

Millie's Open Now

Last Saturday was opening night of my latest production "Thoroughly Modern Millie" at Rodgers Memorial Theatre in Centerville. I think it went alright. There were a few minor errors, but I suppose that's normal. If anyone reading my Glob is interested in coming to see it, you should. It's a really fun show. I recommend this one!

Happy New Year

Well, it's a new year. I can't believe 2008 is already over. To be completely frank, 2008 was not my favorite year. So I'm glad it's over. And now I have this whole new year ahead of me that will hopefully be much better than last year.

So I know everyone comes up with new years goals every January. This year I decided not to make any. I mean, I know better than anyone that I am awful at keeping my goals. So, what I'm going to do is just hope that I become a better person somehow this year. I think that's a good "goal." (I use that term very loosely, of course.)

I have some big plans for this year. First, I'm going to be in a musical called "Thoroughly Modern Millie" this February and March. I'm way excited to play Jimmy (if anyone knows the show well enough). It's going to be a blast.

Then, I'm planning a trip to Disneyland sometime this spring. April or May sounds good. I just need to be sure Spring Breaks are all over before going. You know, I have this motto that children should not be allowed at Disneyland. They drive me insane at the park. They're always just walking around like they own the place, completely unaware that there are one million other people there at the same time as them. They also make the lines so much longer because there are so many of them. Therefore, I am starting a petition to Walt Disney himself to restrict admission to those 21 and older.

This year I would also LOVE to go to Europe. This plan has been on the drawing board for about 6 years since I returned from my last "trip" to Europe. So, if anyone is seriously interested in coming, please let me know. I think fall would be ideal. The plan is to go to Switzerland (of course), Austria, Paris, and Rome.

The End.

My Walk Home

Today’s top stories: The United States wins some more gold medals in China, a quadriplegic girl starves to death on the streets of Salt Lake after her wheelchair runs out of power, and a woman is murdered by an intruder as she enters her home last night. All this and more today on Jon’s Glob.

So last night I had the most interesting time I’ve had in a very long time. It all started when I decided to walk to the Salt Lake City Public Library to return a book I’d borrowed and to pick up a book on CD that I had on reserve. That wasn’t the exciting part. The excitement began on my way home.

As I exited the library I heard some loud music coming from across the street at the County Building. There was some type of festivity with music, dancing, and vendor booths. I decided to get a closer look. Why not? I had nothing better to do. So I walked across the street and found that it was a celebration of “Hispanic Days.” I walked around the building grounds and observed people in native tribal costumes dancing around. There was a stage set up with lights and all the works. A girl was busy singing a song, the likes of which I’d never heard before. I couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, probably because she was singing in Spanish. A man walked by with glow-in-the-dark swords that he was selling for ten pesos apiece. Well, I don’t know really. I didn’t understand what he said as he approached me with his swords, but I assumed he was trying to make a buck off me. Suddenly it was as if I had the gift of tongues. I could understand every word of what the performer on stage was singing. Then I realized that she was singing in English to a karaoke of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” She did an awful job mimicking the pop idol and for a moment I felt a deep desire to play Simon Cowell and tell her that she was pitchy and had fake vibrato and poor diction. But I suppressed my desire and decided it was time for me to go home. I left the grounds just as the Hispanic Days Royalty took the stage to strut their stuff and say some words in Spanish I didn’t understand.

The real excitement took place on my walk back home. I decided to take a new route home, just for kicks. On a dark and empty street, I heard a raspy woman’s voice shout: “Hey, could you do something for me?” There was a woman of about 50 standing on the side walk with her big black dog. I said, “What’s up?” She said, “I live right here and I think I just saw someone in my house. The curtain in the window just moved.” I looked at the window and saw the house was black inside. There was an air conditioning unit in the window and I said, “Are you sure it wasn’t the air conditioner moving the curtain?” She said, “Oh no. I saw someone.” I said, “Well, I don’t feel comfortable going in there.” She said, “Well maybe if you just walk around the back there and look inside.” Again I said I didn’t want to do it, but suggested we call the police.” She said, “Oh no. See, I have cancer and I smoke marijuana. There might be some out on the counter.” This sealed the deal that there was no way I was going in there to play the hero. I could be getting myself caught right in the middle of some drug deal gone bad or a robbery or something. So I said, “No I don’t feel comfortable going in there. I’m sorry. Maybe your dog will scare them away.” I started walking again. I guess she had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die no matter what happened that night, so she headed through the back gate to enter from the back door. I crossed the street and waited there for a while to listen for any screams come from the house. I didn’t hear anything, and never saw the lights come on inside. Perhaps her intruder slit her throat before she could scream as she came through the door. Or perhaps there was no intruder and she just wanted me to come smoke some pot with her. Either way, she was a crazy old lady.

As I continued down the street I saw something that made me think, “Where are all these crazies coming from?” I heard some crunching noises in the shadows. I look deep into the darkness and saw a person in a motorized wheelchair driving in circles on a little driveway close to the sidewalk. I thought at first her wheelchair was out of control and she was panicking. There were CD’s all over the driveway and she was running right over them, crunching the plastic cases with every turn. There was a bag on the ground as well as a sweat shirt. I wasn’t sure if it was her stuff that she had dropped. She started making incomprehensive grunting noises which I thought were a cry for help or assistance. But she just kept running over her CD’s. I was nervous. So I kept walking. Suddenly she started driving behind me. I slowed my pace in case she was trying to get me to help her. She zipped right on by and drove toward the intersection. I thought for sure she was going to drive right out into the road and get hit. But she screeched to a halt at the last minute. I watched her from across the street as she disappeared into the distance. I went back to see what the CD’s were all about. They were a set of about 10 entitled “Music to Live By.” On the ground near the CD’s was a piece of wood with the words “Not in this body” written with permanent marker. I couldn’t figure out what was going on so I gathered the CD’s and put them in a nice pile on top of the piece of wood and placed them off to the side of the driveway in case she came back looking for them. I continued my walk home. I crossed a few streets. Then I saw on the other side of the road the woman in the wheelchair. She was stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk. I’m not sure if her jazzy had run out of juice or if she was taking a rest. Perhaps her battery died and she stayed there all night. Or perhaps she was waiting for a friend on the corner. Either way, I didn’t know how to handle the situation. Do I call the police? No, she wasn’t committing a crime. Do I call the hospital? No, she wasn’t sick. I didn’t know whom to call, so I just kept walking.

As I finally reached my house I thought, “I’m so glad that this all happened tonight. Now I’ll finally have something to write on my glob.” I watched the news this morning to see if either of these stories had made headlines. They hadn’t. I guess the woman in the wheelchair made it home safely. I guess the woman with the pot lived through the night. But it sure was an exciting walk through the streets of down town Salt Lake.