MoMo Mocktails: New Year's in Utah

Here is a short smattering of Utah's non-alcoholic drinks. I do not vouch for any of their taste, quality, frequency of appearance in my own home, etc.

Go ahead and take a guess at what my favorite is.

Suit & Tie with a twist: Caffeine-free diet Coke, straw, lemon wedge.

Surely Temple: Sprite and any kind of fruit juice.

Mud Backslider: Chocolate milk and a graham cracker.

Ox in the Mire: Basically a root beer float, but really any soda pop with something frozen added to it. 7-Up and sherbet works.

Blood Atonement: Fruit punch concentrate and a splash of Tabasco Sauce.

Service Project: Any drink containing an actual food item -- shredded carrots, fruit cocktail, turnip wedges, or even ham chunks. (sick!)

Scripture Chase: Shot of Red Bull with a liter of Pepsi chaser.

Mission Call: Glass of water.

High Council Toddy: Hot cocoa and NyQuil.

Rise and Shout: BYU blue raspberry punch and marshmallows.

Home Teacher: Nonalcoholic beverage served at final moments of the party.

Apocalypse: Mountain Dew Code Red and a dozen NoDoz, shaken vigorously.

Jack Mormon: Whatever you got (and please sneak some booze into it).

*list compiled from the article found here

Poinsettia Bowl December 2009 - Utes v Cal

Vacation is all about the food

The Slow and the Furious: SLC Drift

It’s been a week now but every time I drive to work I have a minor PTSD flashback to the incident I think you should become familiar with.

With the first full-fledged snow storm of the year causing traffic delays all over the city I awoke to the happy reality that I live 5 minutes from work. Sure, no plows were working to clear my parking structure but I could manage the snowdrifts without a mountain guide. I trudged up the poorly constructed wooden stairway to my covered parking space, my feet sinking 8-10 inches in fresh snow. Twice my foot met a slick surprise at the bottom of the fresh footprint. I should have paid attention to this foreshadowing as I started up my car and waited for the seat heaters to kick in.

Opting for 2nd gear instead of D(rive) I started my egress from my parking stall and headed down the incline to the street out front. The crunchy snow quickly turned from the fresh, virginal stuff in my drive to the dirty, mulled over, slush that was turned over by brave commuters trying to get to work earlier than I. With a few taps of the accelerator I made my tepid approach up the hill to South Temple. It was a slippery slope to the intersection but it was timed with a green light so I wouldn’t have to pray to the commuter gods in order to prevent my pending backslide down the hill.

As I got up to speed (a brisk 9 mph) I was passed by a new Audi SUV that was oblivious to the road conditions or any cars around them. No plates, no clue, no problem letting them speed pass me to their soon-to-be-realized accident. A cycle began to develop. I would meet this SUV again and again at every red light, very tortoise and hare. As I passed the elementary school heading up South Temple at a reduced speed of 4-5 mph my car did something it hadn’t done in a long time.

I was drifting.

I was drifting towards that damn Audi at a speed that made the entire situation a living slow-motion movie moment. The world slowed, my senses heightened, and I had time to realize that I was about to have a morning interrupted by a car crash – my own! More importantly, the slow pace of my vehicular triple lutz gave way to the reality that this was going to take place to the tune of the B-52’s song: Love Shack. My mind raced faster than normal and I actually tapped the button on my steering wheel to change the station.

I refused to have such a pivotal moment in my life feature that song.

To my dismay, as this Tokyo Drift inspired collision progressed, the radio did not provide a tune that fit the situation. The 2nd option was “I just died in your arms tonight” by Cutting Crew – this was awful, didn’t the DJ’s know that it was morning and I had no intentions of dying and there were no other arms around except mine?!

My thumb tapped the radio control button on the steering wheel again.

I named the third tune in less than a second – it was that awful “Christmas Shoes” song. It sent shivers up my spine and I tapped a third time. Of course it was a car commercial for the car dealer that sold me my car (I hate them). NEXT! Morning DJ’s. Next!

My power slide continued through this 8-second delirium. The Audi found traction and cleared the way for me to head right into the curb (thanks lady). In the back of my mind I heard the words of that fighter pilot from Star Wars (you know, when they are flying into the gully’s on the Death Star to blow the thing up). “Stay on target, stay on target” (that’s when the guy gets nailed and explodes in the vacuum of space – fitting, isn’t it?).

By now my foot wasn’t anywhere near the accelerator or the brake. I was on my own personal cruise with a panoramic view. Here I was, moments away from hearing that noise – the one where you know it’s going to be expensive (even with insurance). I looked in my rearview with a glance that tried to convey my apology for the traffic jam I was about to cause. I envisioned how I was about to become ‘that’ guy on the side of the road. Yes! That guy.

My thumb desperately tapped one last time as if I were on the old game show “Press Your Luck”

….no whammy, no whammy, no whammy…stop….“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin rooof. Rusted!”

I had no other choice but to accept that the B-52’s were destined to be intertwined in my morning. I slouched my shoulders and braced for the geriatric-paced collision that was my life that morning. My eyes rolled almost as much as my tires in their uncontrollable trajectory.

Just as the song geared up for one last chorus my tires gained traction. My steering wheel jerked in my hands. I tensed up, forgot the last 10 seconds of my life and was on my way once more. As I approached the light at 1300 East I slotted in next to that Audi yet again. The light turned green, the song came to an end, and I turned off the radio so the moment would be ingrained in my mind – just like it is in your mind now.

True Story.

A holiday song for Sen. Hatch & the Mormons

As a way to thank Sen. Hatch for his Hanukkah song, Conan's drummer, Max Weinberg, wrote a nice song as a thank you gift. It only seems appropriate to give a gift of thanks in return. We can all add this to our collection of holiday favorites.

Shock and Awe (the good kind)

Simply put: awesome

All we got as kids was a house with lights put up after Thanksiving and left up until spring. Sometimes they blinked, sometimes they blew out but never anything like this (I guess this kid reaps the benefits of having a dad that is a former Disney Imagineer).



This video was found at Switched.com

Shock & Awe (& Horror)

It's like "Making the Video" or "Behind the Music" but in a baaaad Casio Keyboard-filled universe. It pains me that a Mac was used to make this. Persevere until 0:48 where a special treat awaits you.

Eight Days of Hanukkah from Tablet Magazine on Vimeo.

A Holiday-worthy Distraction

If you haven't visited Sketchy Santa's photoblog you should take the time to relive some of the most horrific "come and sit in Santa's lap" moments of your childhood:

http://sketchysantas.com/

An ode to Max Hall: By Paul Rolly

http://www.sltrib.com/news/ci_13902030

Tribune Columnist
Updated: 12/01/2009 03:54:29 PM MST

*This is reposted from the link above - think of it as a creative way to respond to the Classless response on being Classless (this is the only time I will post about this event).

Let it die people, it's football, it's a rivalry, and it's what happens when you give a microphone and audience to emotionally immature college athletes).

- - -

(To the tune of the Whiffenpoof song: "We are poor little lambs who have lost our way, Bah, Bah, Bah ...")

My name is Max Hall and I hate you all,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

I'm a Cougar QB and you're mean to me,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

When I played a game my family came,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

They had to fear, someone threw a beer,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

It doesn't matter who it was,
Waa. Waa. Waa.

You're all to blame, just because,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

So the Ute coach's wife got hit in the face,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

I don't care cause she's not on MySpace,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

'Cause I am good and you are not,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

I'll go to heaven and you'll be hot,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

You're all so mean 'cause you yell "Boo,"
Waa, Waa, Waa,

We're so much nicer at BYU,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

So your cheeleaders once got hit with snowballs,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

It's 'cause the Ute refs made many bad calls,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

So what if you have an institute,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

You're no true believer if you're a Ute.
Waa, Waa, Waa.

You say naughty things and your drink contains malt,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

I think it's all Obama's fault,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

And why do you keep picking on me?
Waa, Waa, Waa.

Our P.R. folks wrote an apology,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

There is a reason your players wear red,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

You're all commies at heart and in the head,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

If you live in Salt Lake, you're a liberal too,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

And yours is the town that has a zoo,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

When you act out and yell at us,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

It's because you have that sleazy MUSS,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

But when our good folks raise a voice to you,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

It's in a righteous way 'cause we're BYU,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

I hate you though we've never met,
Waa, Waa, Waa,

You're all exactly the same, I bet,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

And I hate you even when I can't see,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

That's because you're not just like me,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

If you think I'm a whiner, oh what the heck,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

We'll get support from our friend Glenn Beck,
Waa, Waa, Waa.

prolly@sltrib.com