Hoven, said "Hoe-ven" no "Hu-ven"

It was Fall 2001 and I was starting my first semester at BYU before going on my mission. I was a fan of rap music, rock climbing and I was one, cool bad-A. Pimpin' the Bronco II, with a 15" subwoofer and rock climbing gear in the back, I always, and confidently, left my 4 pairs of sunglasses on the dashboard of the car with the windows down. One pair of $85 Dragon's, one pair of $90 Spy's, one pair of Vegas sourced Elvis shades, and a wicked pair of gas-station aviators stood at attention for use at my beck and call...

...to be continued.

Post Haste

I'm in a major funk as far as blog posts go. I keep starting posts and then saving them as a draft and then deleting them because I don't like where they are going. I think I have started 2 or 3 in the last couple days that just started sounding or feeling weird and got off track. My heart wasn't in it. It didn't flow naturally and when it doesn't flow, you know it ain't no good. It's frustrating, it really is. For as mindless, immature and irrelevant as my posts often seem, I find blogging rather therapeutic. Knowing that people (very few) read my blog certainly is taken into consideration when I write, but in all reality, I write for me. I write just to see what comes out. One of the posts I started today was about my inner dialog I have with myself 24 hours a day, nonstop. It's fascinating and annoying all at the same time. It's especially troublesome when it's time to go to sleep. So sometimes it feels like the only way to get all that mumbling crap out of my head, is to put it onto the page. I think the reason I enjoy the blog better than just a notebook is because the banter in my head feels like a conversation and when you write in a private notebook, that conversation becomes a dead end. I might read it, but the thought process becomes finite. When I blog, somehow it feels like my writing lives. People can comment, they can refute, they can complain and they can agree. The words become an organism that can grow into other words and other conversations and ideas.
Fun stuff. In fact, writing this, I already feel relieved. Just maybe this was the ointment to cure my funk.

Amazon.com Forest

I have a problem. I am an amazon.com addict. I shop amazon.com DAILY for things I "need" very desperately. And apparently my problem is pretty public because I get teased every day I am online.
"What are you gonna buy today Logan?"
"Whatcha shoppin' for buddy?"
I really don't buy that much, or at least I don't think so. Upon review of my amazon account, I have only purchased 9 items in the past 6 months. That's only an average of 1.5 items a month.
Let's have a look at my purchase list and you decide if I am being excessive.
(Reverse order, oldest first)

• 1 of: Eat This Not That: Thousands of Simple Food Swaps That Can Save You 10, 20, 30
  Sold by: smokymtnbooks

I'm fat. No brainer why I'd buy a book like this, right?

• 1 of: Battery Pack for Compaq Presario M2000, V2000, V4000, Hewlett Packard Pavilion dv1000, dv4000, dv5000, ze2000 and Business Notebook NX4800, NX7200 ser
  Sold by: Northparts
  

Needed a new laptop battery, as the old one was only lasting for 3-5 minutes.

• 1 of: Hey, Whipple, Squeeze This: A Guide to Creating Great Advertising (Adweek...
  Sold by: indoobestsellers

I needed this for school, for the creative track; so shove it.

• 1 of: SanDisk Sansa m240 1 GB MP3 Player (Silver)
  Sold by: reforger_com
  

My wife didn't use her iPod much so I sold it and used the money to buy me a new one. I felt bad so I bought her a cheap on for the gym or for when she walks the dogs. She's still never even touched it.

• 1 of: The Abs Diet: The Six-Week Plan to Flatten Your Stomach and Keep You Lean for...
  Sold by: sortfloorbooks

Again...fat. No brainer. (I'm on this diet now and I really like it, so lets hope this pays off team!)

• 1 of: 11-Tools-in-1 Stainless Steel Credit Card Survival Tool for Wallet or Purse...
  Sold by: anacondatools_wholesale

Any tool that brings me closer to McGyver-hood is worth ANY cost.

• 1 of: The Wreck of the Zephyr [Hardcover] by Van Allsburg, Chris
  Sold by: _athenaeum_

This is the first book I ever remember reading as a child. I wanted to savor the memories again. I did a report with colored pencils I remember.

• 1 of: 3.5mm RCA Audio Video AV Cable for iPod
  Sold by: Gadget Dweeb
  

Double-digit dollar signs for a video-out cable for my Microsoft Zune?! Whatever, I go cheap!

• 1 of: Monster Cable RadioPlay Car Stereo Wireless FM Transmitter (MBL-FM XMTR)
  Sold by: Digital Media Source
  

I paid $10 mother-freakin' dollars for a cheap-o FM transmitter for my Zune and it sucks. I have a $70 one for my iPod, but I traded the iPod for the Zune! This should solve my in-car music issues once and for all.

So judge me; go ahead. I NEEDED these things!

Defenestration

I wanted to use the word "defenestration" in my blog so badly, that I just decided to make a post all about it.
I received my "Word of the Day" email a couple days back and the word was defenestration. Normally I would have looked at it, guessed how to say it, checked how to properly say it, and then I would have read the definition after trying to guess that too. But today, I knew what defenestration meant. I knew what defenestration meant because I remember the Defenestration of Prague. Despite what my cousin and little sister think, (classmates in History of Creativity at BYU) I actually did listen to the lessons. Sure I was surfing the internet, texting and generally dozing in my third-row-left-isle seat, but I was aloof to what was being said. Now I'd be the queen of all jerk-bees if I didn't thank my sis and cuz for basically tutoring me like a special needs student before each test, but you gotta give some cred to the brains in this head! I can do it! And gosh darn it...I like me.

By the way, defenestration means to throw out the window. Seriously, look it up.

What's In A Name?

LOGAN

Gender: Masculine & Feminine Usage: Scottish, English Pronounced: LO-gan [key]

From a surname which was originally derived from a Scottish place name meaning "little hollow" in Scottish Gaelic.

KRISTEN (1) m Danish
Danish form of CHRISTIAN

CHRISTIAN

Gender: Masculine Usage: English, French, German Pronounced: KRIS-chen (English), KRISH-chen (English), krees-TYAWN (French), kris-TEE-ahn (German) [key]

From a medieval Latin name that meant "Christian". This was the name of ten kings of Denmark. Another famous bearer of the name was Hans Christian Andersen, the Danish author of such fairy tales as 'The Ugly Duckling' and 'The Emperor's New Clothes'. In medieval England this was also a feminine name. Thanks http://www.behindthename.com/ for all the name info. It might not be the best source, but it's the one I used, so that makes it the best.

Moses Saves

Moses saved me yesterday. Actually, as I meandered around his cluttered front office, I realized its actually spelled "Moises" and Moises isn't a Jew; he's a Mexican.
Yeah, after hundred of dollars, infected scratch wounds and anti-freeze in my eyes, my AC was acting up and I wasn't gonna have it. I was referred to Moises by a gentle soul named Joe at my local Checker Auto Parts. By local, I mean the Checker Auto in my front yard, the one sitting in front of my apartment complex (which should be a great indicator of the type of neighborhood I live in.) Joe poked around the engine a bit and then said I should see Moises. So I did and after, maybe, 10 minutes and a total of 4 words, he had my AC fixed and I was on the road.
I said, "Moses, thanks man. Can I get you something? Like a drink or something?"
His reply, "Coke."
"Just a Coke?" I said.
Moises nods. I'm off for a 12 pack.

What's that you ask? What was wrong that he was able to fix? Well, in a fit of heat-stroked rage, I kinda tugged (see: tore angrily) the fan shroud off the radiator when I was fixing the radiator. Well it yanked out 2 wires from a grey wire-harness clip. I stuck them back in gingerly when I was reassembling, but apparently I don't know my own strength and I really tore 'em out to the point they wouldn't stay in.

I need anger management.

Boring Post of Noteworthy News

I fixed the car. Yes, after 3 days, I replaced a radiator, a thermostat, 4 spark plugs and troubleshot a fineky AC system. I am very proud. That's it. No seriously, that's it. I don't need to write anything else because this is exciting enough.

Surf Without Getting Fired

I was sitting at work, playing flash games, watching the original Star Trek series, checking my email, Facebook and listening to my Zune when I heard my boss walk by. This wasn't new, no, not by a long shot. He walks by all the time. But for some reason I thought to myself, on this occasion, "How could I look busy right now?" I had to figure out how I could keep enjoying what I was doing, reading, etc, without having to actually be busy. Well necessity is the mother of invention...er, googling. Well this is what I found:
workfriendly.net
Type in any URL and it will convert it to look like a Word doc. It's awesome and I think we can all benefit from this paycheck defraudment mechanism.

Man-sculinity!

So here is the update on the CR-V breakdown:
I replaced the cracked radiator all by myself. I nearly died from heat stroke and dehydration as I toiled in the hot Monday sun. Massively scratched arms, sore muscles all around (soreness?) and a mild sunburn later, I had the new radiator in and running. I was elated to think that I had done this on my own, saved us some money and got our vehicle back in on the road. But with the luck that I was destined to live with, I of course didn't get the car completely fixed. It's still overheating, so tonight I will replace the thermostat and hope that does the trick. That's all for now. I'll keep you posted.

Wisdom Nuggets

"Don't question the faith of the faithful, as you wouldn't question the vision of the blind."

-Saint Logan Tanner of Orem

I thought of this in the shower last night. I shower just rarely enough that when I do pop the faucet, it's a truly religious experience.

Screwed the Pooch: Take 2

The radiator on the Honda blew today. We stopped at South Town Mall to visit Kelly (Rayburn) Dearth and buy me some sunglasses when I noticed steam blowing out from under the hood. I popped it an saw a crack in the plastic, top portion of the radiator. Oh well, it didn't seem to be anything requiring more than just my attention while I waited to get it taken care of later next week. But, as we arrived at Asuka for our sushi dinner, it was obvious it was getting worse and on the way to Orem Summer Fest, it overheated. We had to let it cool down and then dump a half gallon of lost water back into it. Long story short, we didn't make it all the way home. It started spraying fluid on the windshield on State St. in Orem and we had to abandon it and walk 3 blocks home.
Fun times.

The Fumes, They Take Me Back

I was at my local Maverick petrol station this morning, filling up the ol' Toyota Camry Deluxe with some fuel. Filling the Camry is nice because I only do it every couple of weeks now. When I was driving my Subaru SVX around, I was putting in loads of premium every single week; and gas was around $3 bucks then. When I turned 16, I drove, what I deemed to be, the pimpinest Ford Bronco II around. As much as that car may have sucked and as much as we had to spend on repairs on it, I still adored it. I adored and coddled every single rust spot, paint scratch, rim ding and upholstery stain of that car and I loved it to pieces. I paid to put a matching 5th rim and tire on the back swing gate. I paid Ricky Tavares (sorry for the improper spelling Ricky) $40 for a welding-class-made roof rack, and I paid Andrew Johnson a cool $125 dollars for an Isuzu Trooper brush guard I painstakingly retrofitted to mount to my vehicle. It didn't stop there. I plopped in a 10" MTX sub and amp to "bump" it with my homies. But before long, 10" just wasn't enough, so I spread the word and picked myself up a 15" Kicker Competition sub that honestly ruined my hearing, broke my rear view mirror clean off my windshield and gave me daily headaches until I finally sold the car.
As I look back to those carefree days of loitering at the Conoco station on 1600 North, and "Cruising the 8" down by Movies 8 in Provo until the cops showed up, I keep coming back to one, fond thing... $.98 gas. No seriously, I paid less than $15 to fill my 15 gallon tank in my '87 Ford Bronco II back in the day. Gas was generally more around a buck, but I vividly remember filling up at Conoco once and snagging a 44oz, ice cold beverage for less than $16. Awesome.
All these memories came rushing back to me, and spilled out onto this digital page because I got gas on my left index and middle fingers at Maverick this morning. I've been able to smell it all day, and it took me back to high school when we'd rebuild and tinker with our motorcycles all day Saturday so we (us boys) would have them done in time to cruise around in the evenings and pick up babes (see "failure" in the dictionary.) But I distinctly remember wreaking of gasoline all day and all night for days after working on my bike. Apparently gasoline has taken up a fond and dusty shelf on my bookcase of memories, only to be recalled when I spill it on my hand (or rub it in eye) again. Hopefully my memory will be more selective in the future, leaving out the parts where I ran out of gas on State Street, in the middle of evening traffic, and had to push my "pimpin" Bronco to the side of the road all by myself. Those were the less shining moments of my ruckus youth.

Selective Hating Process

I'm a hater. Player hater, alligator, whatever you want to call it, I hate the player, not the game. I just realized it today; I need someone to hate at least once everyday.
I was driving to work today and I noticed this girl in a gold Nissan Sentra GXE with a baby seat in the back swing up next to me at the light, obviously jockeying for position before the light turned green. If Id been in my old Subaru SVX, I would have launched at green and smoked her, because it was clear she was trying to get in front of me, and indeed, that is exactly what she did. Unfortunately I was in my 204,000+ mile, 1986 Toyota Camry Deluxe four door with a power steering leak and a bad transmission. Needless to say, I eased off the line. Embarrassingly enough, we ended up pulling into the BYU parking lot, going down the rows, and parking right by each other. It was at that moment I realized, "I hate this person."
Woah, what? How could I hate this person in her shiny gold Sentra, and white collared, female rugby shirt? What did she do to me?
I'll tell you: She beat me.
That's it. That's all she had to do to be blacklisted like a comedian telling Communist jokes in in early 1950's America. I hated her.
So I guess this is "my thing." I find someone to hate, for some reason, every day of the week. Freaky right? Imagine how my wife feels. It's a good thing I'm not a recluse, because she'd be the only person I would be able to hate.
But its not racism or any other kind of -ism (yes, click on "-ism".) It's simply a desire to take my aggressions out on someone else during the day. Why should I be responsible for my feelings and emotions, seeking the root of my troubles, when I can simply blame them on someone else? It's much easier to displace my feelings onto a random stranger and hate them, then look introspectively at myself and solve the deeper issue.
So, until the court forces me to choose between jail time and therapy, here's to a good day of hating!
Cheers.

Why Bluetooth Makes You Suck

Bluetooth makes you suck, because it makes you look stupid. That's a generalization for sure, but unless you are wearing just the right outfit, you look like a moron. What's the perfect outfit? Nearly undefinable actually. What we need to do to define the perfect outfit is to determine what isn't perfect. Let's begin.

Shorts. Don't wear shorts with a Bluetooth headset.
Beard. Don't have a beard or a goat with a Bluetooth headset.
Socks. If we can see your socks, don't wear a Bluetooth headset.
Sandals. If you are wearing sandals, don't wear a Bluetooth headset.
Sunglasses. If you are wearing eyewear that doesn't improve your vision, don't wear a Bluetooth headset.
Hats. If you are wearing a cap, fedora, bowler, or a fez, you cannot wear a Bluetooth headset.
Tuxedo. This should be obvious, but don't wear your Bluetooth headset.
Suit. Yes, believe it or not, you look like a goob if you wear a nice suit with a Bluetooth headset.

I think that is fairly comprehensive. Jeans, slacks, sport coats, spectacles, etc seem to be acceptable if you really want to wear a Bluetooth headset.
I, for one, wore shorts today. And sunglasses...and my Bluetooth headset. I broke the rules and I feel like a total goob. So, if you saw me today, I'm sorry. I took it off as soon as I got out of the car.

Radio Killed My Childhood

Growing up, I thought there was only one radio station: Mix 107.5 KSFI. Mix 107.5 changed to Magic 107.5, but they still played the same great hits from the 70's, 80's and today (today being early 90's at this time.) My passion for Barry Manilow, Elton John and Vanessa Williams grew every time I switched on the dial of my GPX AM/FM/CD player. Then one Christmas, I got a Sony Walkman tape player and the radio wave world that I once knew changed forever.
As the story goes, I was laying in bed one night, enjoying the soft hits of the 70's, 80's and today when I stumbled upon a dial of sorts that fudged with my reception when I bumped it. Ever the eager beaver, I gave the dial a twirl and what to my wonderment I should hear but Q99, the rock station. WHAT?! I'd never heard such uproarious, irreverent and obnoxious music; I loved it. Everything was downhill from there. I went from Q99 to X96. I distinctly remember finding X96 late at night while Deacon Nukem and Reverend Pinhead were doing some kind of perverted radio call-in show. It was awesome. From then on, I was a rocker. I moved Vanessa Williams and 70's Super Groups to the back of my CD collection to make room for Green Day, Sound Garden, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Blur and Beck.
People used to look at me and say, "Awe, what a good boy."
Now they say, "Ehk, what happend? He used to be such a good boy."

My Dog, My Child

I've found a new love, Victoria Stilwell. It's ok, my wife is fine with it; in fact, she is in love we her too. Victoria is the British beauty training dogs across the pond and I've recently fallen in love with her show, It's Me Or The Dog, on Animal Planet HD. If you're not aware, we have two dogs, Chip the incontinant older brother, and Oslo the exceedingly more headstrong younger brother. It's good times, and Victoria is teaching us rather successfully how to better train or little boys.
But the real lesson here isn't that dogs can be trained, but that children are, in fact, just like dogs. Yes, it's true. Children and dogs are one in the same. It's not socially acceptable but I can definately see my kids on leashes one day. Sure, on walks, the mall, even around the yard; a child on a leash could really be a great thing. Weeing and pooing can be controlled with proper excercise and behavior training. If all else fails, we can just use pee pads in the corner of the kitchen like we do with the pups. Take heed and keep an ear to wind, because my child training techniques will either put me in jail or get me my own tv show one day. Cheers.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames

Crap. My birthday was on Monday and I wanted a book. I was trying to decide between Devil May Care, the new James Bond novel, or The Dangerous Book for Boys. Both guaranteed delicious, but I had to pick just one and my choice was the bond novel. Unfortunately for the birthday boy, David Sedaris, not only my favorite gay author, but my favorite author overall, just came out with a new book of essays/memoirs called, When You Are Engulfed in Flames. Honestly, I don't need to read a review. I don't need to debate it or make a list of pros and cons; I can just go buy this book. David Sedaris is incredible. I highly recommend reading ANY of his works. Get to it.

Sex and The Pretty (Boy)

If you look back a couple posts, you'll see my discussion on why I am "a little gay." Well, I saw Sex In The City over the weekend, and now I would say my homosexuality is 100% confirmed. I thought I could hide my viewing of this film, but like all secrets, someone always finds out and you end up on the cover of US Weekly or TMZ. And someone did find out; I ran into Brian Turner and Trevor Illes and they called me out on it while I stood in line with 50 fashionista ladies, mentally preparing myself for the assault on my orientation. I played XBOX 360 til 5am that night trying to regain the testosterone that had leaked out of my body during the film.