How's This For Noise Curfew

I wouldn't say that we were troublemakers as children, but we had our moments of excitement. My good pal absolutely loved the Fourth of July. I doubt that he was nostalgic about our the birth of our country however. He lived and breathed illegal fireworks. I admit just the fact of putting the word illegal in front of a word makes it much more extreme. For example if you were to put the word illegal in front of something tame like illegal scrap booking I'm sure there would be a boom in scrapbookers across the nation. Illegal fireworks were something of a past time for us adolescents. We weren't limited to the normal fireworks like bottle rockets or random candles, our greatest joy came from creating our own. It's surprisingly simple how far a little duck tape and pliers can go in creating some dangerous joy.  For your information the law for fireworks in the state of Utah is this.

Specifically Permitted

Cylindrical and cone fountains (effects no higher than 15’,) wheels with no more than 6 drivers, ground spinners, flitter sparklers, smoke devices, wire sparklers under 12” in length, party poppers, trick noisemakers, ground chasers that do not travel more than 10 feet laterally, snakes, and glow worms. Samples must be tested by State Fire Marshal and be listed on a published list of approved fireworks.

Specifically Prohibited

Firecrackers, cannon crackers, salutes, cherry bombs, sky rockets, roman candles, aerial fireworks that have effects higher than 15’, and chasers, whistlers, or other devices that travel more than 10’ laterally on a smooth surface or exceed 15’ in height when discharged.

As I look at the specifically prohibited firework section of this I now realize that the fireworks we were producing broke almost all of those regulations. I remember this occasion like it was yesterday. We were having a simply wonderful Fourth of July just lighting off as many illegal fireworks as possible. All of us believed that the night was young when we heard a stirring coming from the house just across the street from ours. A second story window opened with an irritable neighbor hanging out of it. She hollered, "Don't you know that it is past the noise curfew?"

First off I don't think that 15 and 16 year old minds can comprehend the idea of there being such a thing as a "noise curfew". All of us were processing this when I noticed in my peripheral that one of my friends was acting off pure impulse. Lucky for him he had an illegal firework made and ready to toss. Looking back it I don't think that he actually thought about what he was doing. All I remember is that the firework was already in the air when my friend yelled, "How's this for a noise curfew!" There are moments in life when time stands still. When you can't even believe what is going on right before your eyes. In slow motion the man made bomb landed right on the neighbor's doorstep. The crack was deafening as the firework hit the pavement. Without even thinking all of our legs were already in motion in absolute terror to what would be waiting for us if we stayed in our yard. It was great to be fifteen. There are times I wish that I had such reckless abandon. My friend got his point across that day and I respect him for that. Sometimes we just need to do instead of think.

Better Not Leave That Window Cracked

This was how close Kevin Dyson came to winning Super Bowl 34 mere inches from victory.

We as humans all make little mistakes. Sometimes just a couple of inches can cause catastrophes. My father sadly had a disastrous accident because of a just an inch or two. In conjunction with his job my father Jim had to drive around quite a bit. I don't know if you know this, but when you drive in a car quite a bit debris collects on vehicles when they are driven so frequently. By all accounts it was quite a routine car wash that my dad pulled into that day. There was nothing uncanny about the events that were about to transpire. When the blasters passed over the car he noticed however that water was trickling in from a side window. The controls for the windows were located in the center console between the two seats. As my father leaned across the seats he accidentally pushed in the buttons to both front windows. A virtual Niagra Falls erupted through the now gaping windows. My Father describes it in such a way that he was screaming like a little girl as he desperately tried to salvage the situation by rolling up the windows.

I like to wonder what was going through his head as the windows descended. I'm sure the whole incident happened in slow motion for him. Was it shock that crossed his mind? Was it fear? Or perhaps was there slight irritation at his own clumsy mistake? Whatever the case it must have been intense. It must have been a horrible feeling to know that at that point there was nothing you can do. He might have well pulled out the water wings and the snorkel and goggles. At that point it is just worth it to resign to going swimming cause he turned that Saturn into a swimming pool with wheels.

The saddest part of this story is that the work day wasn't even over. Imagine one downtrodden human being waltzing into a Nordstroms to buy a new pair of slacks so that he could get back to the office. Imagine pulling up to a car up to an intersection to watch a grown man literally ringing out his soaked shirt out the driver's side window. I have a certain pity for my dad, and the events that transpired that day. On the other hand it made for one heck of a good story.

Under Where?

Culturally, when a young girl gets her first bra, it 

may be symbolic of her coming of age.

It was a fine day in Pleasant Grove Utah. On all accounts it seemed like any other day of the year. Nobody could have expected the catastrophic events that would soon present themselves on this very ordinary day. I was sitting, and chatting with my younger brother Preston as he was playing some pointless online game. The location of the computer was such that I could sit on the bed and easily talk to him at the same time. My mother was simultaneously folding laundry immediately to my left. We chit chatted about who knows what when I realized that I was getting close to being late for work. 

At the time I was lucky enough to be an employee for the Quiznos corporation. Mmmmm toasty I say. On a side note I believe that I have consumed over 200 chicken carbonaras at that store. I would highly recommend that beauty of a sandwich. When I arrived at my place of employment I was stunned to find a beautiful woman standing there supposedly coming to visit me. I knew her well, she was in fact my homecoming date. Admittedly I was slightly abashed. I may or may not have had a pinkish red hue dancing across my cheek bones. I offered up some conversation for a few minutes and decided that it was high time that I sign in for work and help the few straggling customers that had trickled into the store. It was then that the crap hit the fan.

I was absentmindedly putting on some latex gloves so that I could properly assist the hungry customers when I was violently shoved into the Quiznos preparation room. My good friend and coworker had nothing but terror on his face when he reached down near my buttox and said, "What the freaking crap is this thing?" To my sheer astonishment and horror he lifted up what appeared to be women's underwear. I couldn't believe my very eyes.  Little known to me my little sister had begun to start wearing what they call training bras. I don't technically know what that means. My greatest guess is that the training bra is what is used to prepare to wear a real bra. I don't know if wearing a bra is strenuous and requires training, but it must be that some training is required or else they wouldn't invent the curious things. I immediately threw the brasserie into the nearest trash can. Probably trying to throw away the memory of this horrifying event.

It was the most devastating, embarrassing moment that I have ever lived, and maybe ever will live. When I called my mother and told her the story she actually forced me to sift through the trash and collect the foul under garment. The worst part was the positioning of the the bra on my backside. It wasn't just barely attached and unmistakable. Supposedly both shoulder straps had connected themselves to the Velcro of my back pockets. The underwear was literally spread eagle across my bungus. What I fail to comprehend was how the thing managed to stay attached from the house to the car ride all the way into the store. Embarrassing moments sometimes define the people we are. I just hope to never relive something like this.

Pressy Poo

My brother Preston is an interesting individual. Don't get me wrong I love the boy. Preston and I would be comparable to Mario and Luigi, to Batman and Robin (I'm Batman of course), and to Ricky Ricardo and Lucy (I would be Ricky).  All of these dynamic duos had something in common. The sidekick in the story is always a push over. My brother Preston is somewhat of a pushover. For example if there was only one green otterpop left and the the other was a purple I would always get the green. That's just how it's forever worked out in the Francis household. This is a story where my brother Preston was pushed to the limits and found himself halfway out of a nine story hotel building. 

It was my senior year of high school, and it is customary for seniors to go on what is referred to as a senior trip. A couple of my buddies were on the lacrosse team with me and we decided that it would be chipper to go on a trip to Baltimore Maryland to watch the NCAA championships of lacrosse. The details become fuzzy to me as to why my brother came along, but nevertheless he was there. We will forever be grateful that he came on the trip after what happened one faithful night in our hotel room. I remember that someone made a side comment that it would be absolutely hilarious if someone were to poop out the window. This must have sparked something in one of my good friends mind because his eyes immediately turned to my baby brother Preston. He said with a wry smile, "Preston you should poop out the window."

His immediate reaction was absolutely not. However with a little coaxing his pants were at his ankles with his bare bungus hanging out of the 9 story window. So many things were happening at once that conjuring the memory in my mind is a little tough, I do remember a few things however. I had a firm hold on Preston's right arm and leg while my other buddy had a tight hold on the left side. To insure the safety of my brother we also had another man harnessing him with a leather belt strapped around his waste. If you can picture this in your mind you will realize how hard it was to hold him in a good pooping position. I was laughing so hard I thought that I was going to poop my pants, and that I was going to have to switch Preston places. While the three of us were meticulously holding the pantless boy up another friend was taking pictures from an adjacent window. 

If you are a young child reading this I would stop for you other people I apologize for the graphic detail. When Preston had finished his business we assumed that the poop had fallen the nine stories to the pavement below. How wrong we were. It barely made it one story and hit the window ledge in the hotel room directly underneath ours. Of course this sent our group of friends into a frenzy. One of my buddies even suggested that we lie to the people below us and feed them some story that we were hammered drunk. We ended up just letting it be. The window did have to stay shut the rest of the night. It was quite a pungent odor. Like I said my brother Preston is a push over. 

Slip of the tounge

I have an Aunt who once said one of the funniest things that I have ever heard in my life. I will always and forever remember my Aunt LeeAnn for this poignant phrase. She once was reprimanding my cousin when she said, "You little J-Ass!" Of course she was trying to say Jack A and censor her language. I thought that was hilarious. It's these little tidbits in life that make life worth living.

This is my cousin Kimball or a little J-Ass I'm not quite sure.

5 things i hate about blogging...

1. When someone states that they are blogging for a release.


2. Bloggers who "Blog" for their posterity. Give me a break. 


3. Those who state that their blog has recently received a makeover.


4. Blog jargon, for example when I put something new on my blog I haven't created a new blog entry I've created a blog post.


5. The very word Blog. It sounds like it should be a super villain. 


Thank you for your time.

I have an addiction...

Salt is the single biggest preventable reason for high blood pressure. When salt is consumed, it activates the same part of the brain as cocaine and heroin addiction. The recommended maximum daily intake of salt for a healthy individual is 2,300 mg; if you're consuming more than that, you are putting yourself at risk for hypertension, vascular and cardiac damage, and obesity in addition to high blood pressure.

1 tablespoon is almost equal to 5 grams. There is 1000 milligrams in 1 gram. So therefore there are 5000 milligrams in 1 tablespoon

There was a point in my life when I consumed more than double the daily amount of recommended salt intake in one pop. This is my story. To be honest I have an addiction to table salt. There was one point in my life when I was eating a delicious breakfast burrito when I realized how far I was deep into my addiction. I sit here today proud to say that I broke that addiction. I went cold turkey and didn't use table salt for six months. Until one day I cracked this is the story of my relapse. I was sitting around the table with five of my good buddies. We were talking about stupid human challenges, you know like eating a pound of mayonnaise, or maybe a 25 foot sushi roll.  My good friend Bowman Stacey then said something that would change my life forever. He said, "It is impossible to eat a tablespoon of salt in one go."

It was improbable that Boman knew anything of my prior addiction, but before I could even think before I could even react I blurted out, "I know for a fact that I could do it."

So the challenge was laid before me. I was a Anigo Montoya, the salt had killed my father, and now it must prepare to die. There was nothing left to do but fill the spoon completely, and take it like a man. I admit more than once I was on the edge of blowing chunks, but I held it down. I was on top of the world. I was Clay Aiken when he found out his record blew Ruban Studdard's out of the water.  I was doing my little victory dance when it hit. My stomach was doing the ChaCha. I felt as if I was going to die. So I laid on the floor for two hours groaning, and passing gas as my friends laughed at my condition. This was maybe the biggest mistake that I ever made in my entire life. Imagine if a heroine addict was clean for three months and took the biggest shot of his life. That was me on that day. If someone ever raises that challenge again I might just take it cause that's who I am.  

That's a Bunny My Friend

Since the creation of this blog I have had a dream to write a story about my glorious grandfather Carl Rowley. The only setback was that I didn't have a story that I deemed worthy enough to describe this fascinating man, until now. As I was sifting through the numerous memories of my grandfather I came across this little gem. Going camping with my grandpa was always an eventful occasion. Embarrassment nearly always accompanied these  fun-filled family outings. The crew on this specific date happened to be me my brother, and my granny and grandpa. Yes, you read that right we call my grandma granny. For those of you who be hatin I would direct you to this link.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVEe7TrUabg What we call my grandma, however, has nothing to do with this story. We were busy setting up camp when I realized just where we were. I felt like I had been dropped into Kid Rock's family reunion. The wife beaters were plentiful, and the beer was flowing like wine. We were minding our own business when this dirty individual approached us.

"You turkeys need any help over here?" I don't think he really said turkeys, but it makes my story a lot more funny.
"No thanks," my grandpa answered. "I see you are a fan of the coug, what do you think their chances are this year?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" The man was obviously clueless.
"Well you're wearing that hat so I assumed that you were a BYU cougars fan." At this point I was holding back tears of laughter. I couldn't believe what was unfolding before my eyes. Could it honestly be possible that this was happening?
"Oh that, well that's a playboy bunny gramps." The amazing thing was that this man didn't even crack a smile. I was on the floor at this point. This may have trumped any other experience that I had happen to me up to this point with my grandpa.
His answer was a classic old man answer, "Oh well how about that."

My grandpa is obviously the man,and I will forever cherish this little moment that I shared with him.

Easy Mistake Right?

I Have Seen Bigfoot

Cryptozoology (from Greek κρυπτός, kryptos, "hidden" + zoology; literally, "study of hidden animals") refers to the search for animals which are considered to be legendary or otherwise nonexistent by mainstream biology. This includes looking for living examples of animals which are extinct, such as dinosaurs; animals whose existence lacks physical support but which appear in myths, legends, or are reported, such as Bigfoot and Chupacabra;^[2] and wild animals dramatically outside of their normal geographic ranges, such as phantom cats or "ABCs" (an initialism commonly used by cryptozoologists that stands for Alien Big Cats).


For those of you who don't like reading boring crap I would suggest not reading the top of this post.


My brother once did a report on cryptozoology in school. This is when I learned of the astounding field. Little did I know how close my life actually came to the truth which is cryptozoology. His main subject in the report was the infamous Chupacabra.Which is to be defined as an evil goat killing mexican monster. I would suggest googling it's mating noises online if you want to waste your time completely. 

My experience with Cryptozoology came at a young age. It was a fine summer morning. I was wearing cut off jeans and a baseball cap worn backwards. I know what you're thinking, and yes I did look exactly like Ash Ketchum. Well we were busy tearing apart the foothills above our house. We knew that place like hobbits know the shire. We'd hang out there every single day those were the days before the atari was invented. Ok maybe that was a lie. Hanging out in the foothills was a blast until it happened. Preston and I were keeping mainly to ourselves when we caught a glimpse of this man sized beast who was completely covered in hair. He stared at us for several seconds, and ran into the distance forever. I firmly believe that I saw Bigfoot that day 
he does exists kids. Don't let your parents tell you any different.




Over and Out.

The Man Who Was Struck In The Face

I have decided to dedicate my blog to incredulous, hilarious, (and any other ous ending adjectives that you can think of) stories from my excursions through life. The story I'm about to tell you will forever live in my memory as one of the greatest moments to ever happen in a sunday school setting. So I was minding my own business sitting in those terribly uncomfortable metal chairs. You know the ones you have to put up after the meeting is over. I hate that. Well a new lesson manual was given out for the rest of the year's required reading. Naturally the man at the front of the room was a lazy pile of trash so he decided to toss them randomly to people seated in the room. On this faithful occasion a man by the name of Gudmund Madsen was seated directly behind me. I received my little lesson manual in a very safe manner. As the book was tossed I watched it from the point of release until it was safely received into my hands, Gudmund wasn't so lucky. The man at the front of the room was attempting to toss one of these semi-heavy reading materials from the very front of the room to the very back row. A pump fake was given as he hoisted the book. I knew immediately that it would not make it to the end of the room. There was simply not enough velocity. This sparked my interest as you can imagine. My eyes followed the book as it soared over my head and smack dab into the face of our beloved Gudmund. I must describe this jolly man. He probably weighed a solid 350, and I don't believe that he could get up under his own power. The most awkward of scenes occurred immediately transpiring the incident. Grown men laughing, Gudmund howling in pain. Such an experience.  Physical pain of others sometimes brings me joy. 

Imagine this book rapidly hitting your face.

I pose a question to the world.

Why Blog?







I must admit that I am somewhat of a blog hater. I have a number of friends who will not be named....(anna, erin, jammie) That thrive in the blog universe. Why is this I ask? For what reason would someone pore out their very heart and soul into the cyber sphere? My quest is to find an answer to this very question. Much like mario on his quest to save the captured princess from bowser's clutches. Or Jim's heroic rescue of the beautiful Jessica in the beloved classic The Man From Snowy River. These men were on quests to find a greater truths. There must be some concrete reason why some of my greatest friends in the world blog. Recently I've been trying to expand my horizons, ride into open frontiers with an open mind. This is my attempt to ride into the sunset on a white stallion accompanied by a damsel no longer in distress....I want to learn to blog. Signing out for now.