Thursday, June 23, 2011

Search for a Story

            In the past few days I have found it increadibly hard to find something that matches the posts that I have previously made. This is tremendously bothersome. It has always been my intention and will continue to always be my intention to deliver the best story possible to those persons (I can now say persons because I have two followers; big ups to my main man Jake Balser and my girl Sarah “old faithful” Holden. I give an extra shout out to “old faithful for allowing me to use her computer but take that second shout out away because she is leaving to California without me.). However, as of late I have not been able to find any experience or story to write about.
            This lack of poetic fodder is not a reflection upon my laziness or indolence. Quite the contrary, whenever I can I do things that I believe will create a good story I go ahead and do them. For instance yesterday my cousin Andy invited me to go play volleyball with a couple of girls and a couple of his friends. Now there is not a single bone in my body that enjoys the game of volleyball and that is especially true when I am surrounded by a group of individuals who are completely uninterested in playing in a serious game of volleyball. However, I knew that a funny little Malaysian man who is prone to committing random acts of stupidity would be there, not to mention the fact that the likelihood of me meeting an immature girl who I could write about was pretty high given the fact that most volleyball courts somehow shrine those types of women. Much to my chagrin when I arrived at the volleyball courts there were no stupid blond girls to see and the Malaysian did not do anything noteworthy the entire night. Perhaps the best thing that I viewed while I was there was the kind smile of Jake Balser.
            My quest for the ideal story took me to Spanish fork this evening. As I have made aware in previous posts I am a rock chip salesman and as a rock chip salesman I am in a prime position to meet people with ill, strange, odd, good, and bad reputations. So I decided that I would find people who could deliver me a good story and the way that I could do that would be to head down to the outskirts of society. When I arrived at Spanish Fork, I noticed two things. First that everyone there was a redneck. Second that these so called rednecks, who usually are known for their adverse and uncouth manners were in fact the most civil individuals I have ever encountered. It is an interesting thing to think about. In places such as Provo, Redlands, and Alpine, which are supposed to have some of societies most civil individuals, I have been treated far worse then in places such as Delaware and Spanish Fork. With that being stated to say that Spanish Fork was normal would be wrong.
            Perhaps the most entertaining story that I had happen to me was I met a man who rivaled kurt cobane in regard to the tidiness of his dress and his personal hygiene. Spanish Fork’s closest thing to the lead singer of Nirvana was dressed with nothing but some cargo pants. Smoke rose from his left hand where a cigarette was positioned between his middle and index finger. The face of the Spanish forkian was unshaven and his skin looked a tad bit worn.
            I struck up a conversation with him and he treated me with the more civility than any active member of the church had. We began to talk about what he did for a living. He was a framer and sat out in the baking sun all day building houses. During the conversation I noticed that there was a metal stud poking out of this man’s right nipple. I took a mental note of what I had seen and then asked if he had any rock chips that I could fix for him. When he responded that he had no rock chips our conversation quickly began to draw to a close. I slowly began to walk away from the man when I asked “hey man did that nipple piercing hurt?” He looked at me and then calmly stated, “not as much as another piercing I got.” I scanned his body to see if what piercing he was talking about. When I realized that there was no visible tattoo on his body I put two and two together. I then said, “oh how was that one?” He then stated that it hurt but not in the way that you would imagine. It hurts the day after. 
Well I guess that that was a pretty good story. So there you have it. That has been my week thus far. 

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