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John is Not Dead

Long live John! Well, ain't that a smack in the pantaloons....out of the blue John Barrow drops me an email. He was searching for our mutual friend and onetime roommate Kirk Hedman (living large in South Jordan, Utah, sprouting children from every pore), and came across this here weblog, and BAM he is alive again.

For those kiddies unfamiliar with the whole Raintree Apartments episode of my life, John shared a room with Kirk during the first semester of our sophomore year at BYU. John was recently returned from his mission (Mexico, I think), fancied plaid pajamas, and was in a perpetual state of returned-missionary shock. It didn't help matters that Preston and I were one step short of rabid, always looking for way to torture all of those we came into contact with our subtle form of insanity. Things like 1) listening to music at live concert-levels, 2) burning several packs of incense at a time, 3) setting stuffed animals on fire outside our front door stoop and back patio, 4) dry ice bombs in and out of the house, 5) randomly disassembling furniture, 6) bringing farm animals into the apartment and letting them loose, etc etc.

A brief snippet from his email:

I have to say that back then I was doing everything I could to stay on the straight and narrow – recently returned from a mission; it was definitely a shock to live with you guys. I thought you were nuts and always wondered what would eventually happen to you. But, at the same time I always admired your ability to do what you wanted – to be spontaneous and really LIVE your life.

Of course, the insantiy was all quite necessary. I like to think that we helped make John a stronger human being - like Kwai Chang Caine from the television show Kung Fu (ah, Grasshoppah!)

Yeah, just like that...

Have Fun! (or don't)

Someone said something to me yesterday that reminded me of a funny interaction I had my freshman year in the dorms with a fellow who was a tad bit self-righteous. I seem to remember he called himself 'Jed,' and he also thought of himself as a ladies' man and a decent singer.

In fact, I remember waking up one morning to hear what I thought was the sound of cattle being slaughtered, but no - it was Jed playing, over and over and over, a tape he had made in one of those $20-to-record-yourself-singing-one-song to that famous Righteous Brother's (how fitting) song that was used in Top Gun (still a popular movie in 86-87). It was flat out awful. But I digress.

Jed and I didn't much get along, but I wished him no ill. At the end of the semester, he had received hi mission papers and was getting ready to head home (to Orem? or somewhere far, far away) and leave, so I thought I'd congratulate him and say something nice. I said "Hey Jed. Congrats on the mission call. Have a good time and maybe I'll see you when you get back." Simple enough, right?

But no, he immediately shot back in a smarmy, rude way "I am NOT going on a Mission to have fun."

So I replied, "Ok, have a miserable time on your mission, then."

What a tard.

My Friend, The Felon

A few of my entries have mentioned one particular character from the dorms, Jeffrey Minor, and some of the havoc he raised...such as making his roommate's life miserable, poking fun at Fat Al, sneaking girls into his room, etc. Why was he at BYU? Good question.

He always found a way to surprise me (no, stun me) with his actions. Not that I was perfect, but then again...

Check out the Jeff Minor story. Sad.

Fat Al

Ah yes, another story from the dorms...

There was so much love flowing in Hinckley Hall during that first semester at BYU. I was paired up with a surfer from Florida named Scott, my buddy Preston was paired with a river raft tour guide from Placerville, CA (hangtown!) named Scott, and we had two guys named Alan running around. One happened to be pencil thin and a cool guy, the other was short and stocky - and not so pleasant to hang around.

I'm not sure where it all started, but there was distinct animosity between Jeff Miner (who is now is prison - no kidding) and Fat Al. While I'm sure most of it was not deserved, it was kind of hard to stick up for the daily taunting and practical jokes against Al because he was such a self-righteous jerk all of the time. I think he considered me one of his "friends" on the floor, but to be honest, I didn't like the guy.

During one of my phases at the Y (there were so many phases), I had discovered a unique use for hot sauce from Taco Bell. At the time, they came in little plastic cubes. I would poke a holle in one end, and place them strategically underneath the toilet seats on our floor, and wait to hear the yells. When people would sit down, they would be sprayed with hot sauce on the back of their legs. Not the most mature prank, I know. But as the youngest person on the floor, I felt it was my duty to do the most damage. Anyway, to tie it back in -- Fat Al became my last victim, and with a brand new suit. I felt bad, and dropped this prank from my list. And I think that was the day Fat Al realized I was not a friend.

There were daily attacks on Fat Al, primarily from Jeff -- but everyone seemed to dislike Al. His claims that he was going to the Celestial Kingdon and everyone else to hell didn't exactly build a case in his favor...even though he may have been right about a few folks (like I said, Jeff is now in jail). But if there was ever someone who was making a concerted effort to NOT have friends, it was Fat Al.

Man, I just read this back, and its not such a pleasant little story. Just my mood this morning, I guess.

Tyler Nebeker, Man of Mystery

I've mentioned Tyler Nebeker in a couple previous posts, but I was reading some junk over on ProvoPulse.com and was reminded of a great Tyler story (who lives in Portland and still won't return my calls).

Tyler had a little red Honda Civic Sport, and was constantly doing road trips -- most often back home to Corvallis, Oregon. He loved that little car, from what I remember, and often took it to the limits of its ability. One day I hitched a ride with Tyler and two female passengers - who were in the back seat - from campus back to our dumpy apartment at Raintree (notice their low 5.2 rating). It had snowed again the previous night, and the roads were slick and icy with slush. We were waiting to turn left in front of the Marriott Center and head down the hill past the Colliseum....you know the road. Anyway, we were last in a line of cars turning left, with many cars lined up to our right and left waiting for the lights to change.

Just as we begin to turn, Tyler kind of slows down and mumbles to me "hang on," and then smirks. We enter the 3-way intersection well behind the last car, and all of a sudden Tyler jerks the wheel hard to the left, putting us into a full spin right in the middle of the intersection. The girls started screaming, the waiting drivers sat in awe, but Tyler and I started shouting "wooo hoooo!" The car did a complete 360 -- it was quite a show for the cars waiting for the lights to turn, many of whom honked at us. The car slid around and ended up facing the right direction - as if nothing had happened, and Tyler quickly sped down the hill toward home (home crap home). It was hilarious.

The Mullett Family

Alright, I was glancing at the picture of Dave when it sparked a hilarious memory. We were cruising the backroads of Provo and Orem in Preston's black 280Z, and decided to check out the dark alley behind the Carillon Tower, which, of course, is across the street from the Orem Mall. As we drove through the alley, we noticed a huge garbage bin right behind the picture studio (Olan Mills or the like). We stopped, jumped out, and took a gander into the bin. We found hundreds of reject photos of individuals and families, are grabbed a pile of them.

We made our way back to our dump of an apartment at Raintree, rifling through the pictures and laughing at many of them. People are so funny looking. When we got home, we decided to build a sort of shrine to the unknowns -- and began taping random pictures of people all over our living room walls.

Our roommates had learned long ago not to ask questions about some of our odd behavior, and Kirk Hedman and Tyler Nebeker came out, watched what we were doing, and just admired the work. One picture in particular caught our fancy. It was an 11" x 17" portrait of a mullett family -- mom, dad, and two boys. White trash city. We made this photo a centerpiece to our collection, and oft admired that picture above all others.

People who visited our apartment were often confused, asking if these people were our relatives. Preston claimed all non-white photos as being his relatives, and we told everyone that yes, they were our relatives. But what makes this story complete is that one day we were out and about in Orem somewhere, and we saw the mullett family -- all of them -- and recognized them instantly. We laughed, followed them for a while, and may have even attempted to get their picture from afar without them knowing.

We created a fun game of sorts -- find the geeks from our wall. They were all from the Provo/Orem area, so our chances of seeing others was not impossible. We came across one other person at some point -- a teenage girl. Once again, we recognized her instantly.

While most of the pictures came down over the next couple weeks, the mullett family remained until we moved from that dump to another dump (thank you BYU Approved Housing)

About Sewage

Yes, yes. Everybody and their mother calls someone named Susan "Sewage" at some point and thinks its funny. And then there's Suey (hog call). Ok, that one is maybe kind of funny.

But I digress.

Heleman Halls during my freshman year was a veritable cornucopia of bland slather. It was boring, I tell you. Which explains why I have a dozen or more pictures of me alone or occasionally with other people up in trees in the parking lot. What the crap was I doing? I have no freaking idea. But someone who was always entertaining was Sue Brady. She sometimes had the funky hair that reminded me of Thomas Dolby or the chick from Thompson Twins, but she got over that by our sophomore year. I loved it when I came across Sue during dinner in the Cannon Center, because there was always some peculiar story to be told, or some complex analysis of somebody's lack of fashion sense.

So....about this picture, taken winter semester of our second year. Susan lived close to Raintree at some dump of an apartment (although not as much of a dump as Raintree) across from Reams or something, and called one day -- bored and looking for something to do. I can't for the life of me remember anything about this day except that I borrowed Astrid's scooter, as always, and we met up near her place. On the side of the road we found a couple peculiar snow sculptures, and Sue just really wanted her picture taken next to one. But I don't think I ever gave her a copy of the pic. Thinking back, I'm not even sure why I had the camera in the first place. Man, my memory sucks. (except when it comes to really bad 80's music trivia)

My family had dinner about a week ago over at Sue's place in Concord, CA. She and her husband Chris and their two kids just moved up to the Bay Area from SoCal. I was so excited to finally have them up here close to me -- they've been here a month, and now I'm moving out of state. I guess that's how it works. She made this freaky watermelon lime drink which tasted suspiciously like a lime bloody mary mix. But I liked it. We called it 'bloody melon'. Mmmm, yummy.

She's Got Something On Her Hands!!!!

I was in exactly one play while at BYU and it was pretty awful. It was some class project that I decided to be in just for the hell of it. However, the story isn't so much the play, but one of the people that was in it. His name was Kevin. What could be said of Kevin would be nothing sort of tragic. He was extremely unattractive, totally bizarre, tiny and worked at a Deseret Industries. He was a walking nightmare, but one where he's such a nightmare that you could only like the guy. Anyway, we sort of befriended him and he just kind of started showing up at our house "The Hole". He became sort of the mascot. Our friends started dealing with Kevin of which he seemed to attach himself to this particularly buxom chica named Tana, a girlfriend at the time of one our rich playboy friends (they ended up being married, then divorced,a nd now he is in prison in SoCal). She would tease this guy to no end (as she did with many of us). Kevin relished in it because I think the guy NEVER had friends. Crispy, Andrew and I moved that summer and Kevin faded from our lives. Wonder whatever happened to that guy. His classic line in the play that was TOTALLY botched was when he was supposed to say ONE LINE regarding seeing blood on this persons hands. He yelled out "She's GOT SOMETHING ON HER HANDS!" in completely wrong fashion that actually caused laughter. It was classic drama by a classic artisan; Kevin, poet, bard, DI worker.

Hippie Shake

Jared Banks was/is an interesting guy. Rumor had it that shortly after leaving BYU, Jared decided to make this dread locks look seem mild. Apparently he grew out his hair ("like Jesus" he said) and converted his basement room at his parent's house into some kind of Tibetan temple of sorts, only bathed occasionally, and then went off to graduate school somewhere in the midwest.

Yes, yes, I look freaking young in this photo from Winter semester 1987 (March, I think). I was 16 at the time.

Dead Head

My second roommate was a guy named Wade from upstate NY. Wade was the world's biggest Bob Dylan and Grateful Dead fan. That was my first sampling of both -- and I have to admit, I thought the music stank. On both accounts. Bob mumbles, the Dead had no talent.

But Wade was a great roommate -- always positive, always had great ideas, and was appreciative of all kinds of music. He was very active in his fraternity, Sigma Epsilon....which I came across again and again in later years. On a campus where national fraternities and sororities are not allowed, SigEp was the only one that I knew of that didn't try to act like a regular frat -- they were more like the explorer scouts I knew as a teenager: out to have fun, screw the formal crap.

That second semester during freshman year I was doing a lot of painting, and for Wade I painted a huge Deadhead skull on our window overlooking the main entrance into Helaman Halls, on the bottom floor facing the Tanner building. It brought a lot of attention, but happily, they never made us remove it. In celebration of its completion, Wade and I decided to turn our room into a dance club....which was pathetic, since we had neither heavy stereo equipment, nor women. Except for one evening a month or so, girls were just not allowed. But we partied as best we could, and even created a sign for the door, and pathetic little flyers which we posted in the lobby.

Notice the hand made poster underneath the sign -- I had this character I created called Phred the Hippie, and that was a poster of Phred and Bill the Cat (Bloom County fame) calling for love and unity between hippies and large, man-like felines. It's not a huge issue, admittedly, but I thought it was important.

I tried to track Wade down a few years ago. I talked to his mom or someone out in NY, and heard that he had been working for a ski resort out in the rockies and was caught in an avalanche and lost a hand or an arm, as well as parts of his face -- and so he sort of lost touch with people. I'd still like to talk to him again - I have great memories of us hanging out.

Searching for Debbie

I always wondered what became of Debbie Hines. Anyone know her? She was a dating queen, no doubt about it (so was my wife), and I'd love to find out what happened to her since then. I lost all contact with her in 1990.

Jen Creer

Oh Jen, to this day we feel bad about "the incident" in which we ran away from you. It was all very funny at the time, but it was at your expense. We were hanging out at the Wilk, having just left the lowbrow gourmet Cougareat (pronounced coo-GARE-eeyat with a French accent) when we came upon you in the reception area in front of the theater. You kept talking and talking, and we were confused, possibly disoriented by the barrage of words coming from you. You commented on how you'd like to hang out with us for the evening. But just then, you saw someone who you had to speak to for just a moment, and you told us that you'd be right back - and NOT to move. We looked at each other - and then ran. Through the ballroom, down the stairs, outside past the lower entrance to the Wilk, across the street to the Kennedy building parking lot. But we didn't stop there. Something urged us to run faster, farther, away.

I think you stopped talking to us after that incident. Not sure why.

The Land of Smee

Oh Smee, we hardly knew ye. Memories of running up behind you with large metal trash can lids while you pondered life and appreciated the gentle flowers. Was that a unibrow? Here's a nice picture of Sam and I investigating a long phallic growth on a potato we found (View image).

My favorite story of Sam is when he was in some kind of P.E. class down in the Smith Fieldhouse, and he was taking a shower in one of those giant stalls for 20 people. He told us how he was washing up, started to feel faint, and then completely blacked out. He woke up on the floor of the shower, the water still hitting him. The thing was - before he passed out, there were several other people showering around him. Apparently nobody wanted to help the short hairy naked guy unconsious on the shower floor. Hmmm....someone must have SKIPPED that good samaritan story.

Writer, Producer and Star!

There are so many characters from those days in college that are worth mentioning, but one of my favorites by far was the guy (I believe his name was Shane) in my theater classes who wanted to write, produce and star in his own films and plays. Never mind the fact that the guy wore coke bottle glasses, had the personality of tepid tap water, and the talent of...well, tepid tap water (hey, at least he was consistant). The guy was amazing though. His acting was miserable, he couldn't convince anyone to work with him, and yet -- he had a following. Who knows why, but he had a couple girls always latched onto him, and so in the directing class, he always had a full cast of people to act in his scenes. They were hialrious where they shouldn't have been. If it was possible, they had less talent than he did. You had to applaud the guy for the sheer spectacle of it all.

Gosh, I miss him.