Possibly the Longest Single Post in GUAGL History

Holy crap, I am bored. The program my job pretty much revolves around doesn’t work so I have NOTHING to do. I checked my blog and noticed that I only have six posts about roommates, and that those six posts are part of one story, then that reminded me of last night (Thursday) and since I have nothing to do you get to know about last night too.

Rob and I returned home from Lacey’s at about one in the morning and our house smelled like warm feces. I proceeded to complain about the stench as loud as I could hoping to wake our two roommates downstairs so they knew how much I hated when this happened. You see, our two roommates who live downstairs are both from Enterprise, Utah, and they come from farming families. I could write post after post about the friction this simple difference in culture causes; in this case it is that they cook huge dinners for themselves every night, and sometimes breakfast and most of the time they result in a similar smell we had just encountered. Not only does it smell bad but you feel like you need to take a shower just by being in its midst, scratch that, you do have to take a shower just by being in its midst. Also, while cooking these meals of theirs they use more dishes in one day then Rob and I would use in a normal week.

Right before we left Lacey’s we were talking about how Roommate One has horrible aim in the bathroom and doesn’t like to clean up the mis-fired . . . ammo. And how way too often when I wake up in the morning and head to the bathroom to take care of business, I encounter R1’s business (serious business, if you know what I mean). How do you sit on the toilet, do that, and then stand up and totally forget what you have been doing for the past 5 minutes!!!!???? It is hard to think of a worse way to start my day then lifting up the lid and encountering an hour-long stagnant deuce. I mean bloody hell.

Anyway, since we were just talking about them I sent Lacey a text message.

“Words cannot describe the smell our roommates have filled our house with.”

“Sick! What did they do?”

“It smells like they cooked an old man’s diaper.” I sent it and then thought for a second and sent, “Hey, maybe words can describe it.”

By the way, keep in mind that it is now one in the morning, meaning the smell is at least a few hours old and still crazy potent. My last thought before I went to bed was ‘I bet I have weird dreams because of this odor I have to sleep in.’ I usually have freakin weird and very vivid dreams anyway, so I was scared what was going to happen with adding this extra element to the equation. The sum of that equation goes like this:

I was in a co-ed locker room, and I was way confused because I thought there had to be segregated locker rooms somewhere around there. I hated getting dressed in front of other guys let alone gettin nekked in front of a bunch of girls (in the dream that is, heh heh). So, I was getting pretty stressed over it until I finally found the guy’s locker room. I changed into my swimsuit and headed out to the pool. This pool, by the way, is a re-occurring object in my dreams. I don’t remember any dream where I actually swim in it, so if any psych majors read this maybe you could help me out there. This dream was no different; I just walked around it and then went outside to play football. I was fully dressed and back in high school all of the sudden and with some kid who was my friend, I guess. Anyway, Alta’s football team was having practice and we stopped by to see if they needed help. We sat with the team on the grass and listened as their coach told them how pathetic they were. He then started yelling at me, telling me that I’d better play really well being that I had RoboCop shoes on. I did have RoboCop shoes on. They were black and said RoboCop in silver. Even though he had just humiliated me I was still confident my RoboCop shoes were awesome, and that everyone else still thought so. I think that part of the dream comes from Napolean Dynamite. “You think I got to where I am by dressing like Peter Pan over here? Forget about it.”

At this point I started narrating my own dream like a movie. One of those movies where you find out in the end the narrator is actually the main character years after the story. When practice actually got started they realized they didn’t need our help, so my friend and I walked over to this grassy area and started playing baseball by ourselves. I guess we were both really good at baseball. The area we were playing on used to be a pretty popular field back in like the fifties, but now you could hardly tell there was ever a baseball field there. We played until it started getting dark, then we came up with the idea that we should re-build the field so people could play baseball on it again, so we started taking care of the field. While watering it I realized that I would never ever have enough money to make the field into what we thought it deserved to be and I started crying, but like balling and feeling so horribly sad because our dream would never be realized. Now the narration just took over and I just saw everything that it talked about. My friend and I got the field to where games could actually be played on it. We started a team that was called something Broncos, I can’t remember. We were so good that we got Triple A status and became the Bees, and we got a big budget to make the field better. Eventually major league teams played in the stadium we had built there, and it eventually became the “Wrigley of the West.”

How often is it that your dreams come true in your dreams?

There you have it.

Chapter One | The beginning of the start of the first part of my story that I will commence to tell you now

I haven't really talked to my roommate before this night. I had maybe said all of ten words to him, and he had let a few sentences slip out. I am pretty sure they were all about macaroni and cheese, and one time he came into my room without knocking while I was sitting on pot that everyone became so familiar with a few posts back. Trash was supposed to be coming over, so I opened the door expecting to see Trash. Instead I saw my roommate just standing in the doorway. It was freaking creepy. I quickly shut the door.

"Yeah?"

"I just paid the power bill. It was 58 dollars."

"So I owe you 20 dollars."

"Yeah."

What the dump? (Pardon the pun) That was one of the weirdest experiences I have ever had. I recognize that now as a foreshadowing of the adventures I was going to embark on with Ryan, my roommate.

I just got home and was about to start work on a paper, when he knocked on my door.

"Do you know anyone with a four wheel drive?"

"Phil in #4 has one," I said thinking that that was the end of the conversation. He wanted info and I gave it to him. But the conversation continued after about thirty seconds of the most awkard silence. I wished I was back sitting on the toilet with the door shut.

"I think he is home."

"Could you ask him if I could borrow it?"

"Why?"

"I got my truck stuck up in the mountains."

"Where at?"

"Duck Creek."S

o I mosied on over to #4 and asked Phil if we could borrow his Jeep. Phil came over to my apartment to talk with Ryan. We walked in the dark living room. I walked into the kitchen to turn on the light. When I turned it on Ryan was there standing in front of the fridge. What was he doing just standing there in the dark? And why didn't he say anything? This dude is creepy. Phil needed his car, so we asked some kid if we could use his truck. He told us we could take it but he couldn't come with us. At this point I realized I was going up the mountain with Ryan, and I didn't feel comfortable taking this kids truck because it was stinking nice, and I didn't know where we were headed. I tried to ask my roommate several times how his truck was stuck and how it was situated on the road only to get so frustrated by the inability to answer the question that I wanted to punch him in the throat. I did know it was in the snow. After about a half hour it was decided that I would take Phil's Jeep and he could borrow my truck. We borrowed a shovel from the hick with the truck just in case. We didn't, however, take his tow strap with us because Ryan had one in his truck.

Chapter Two | Time, a waste of

You see, I am new around here. I had no idea where Duck Creek was. Duck Creek is about 55 miles east of Cedar City up and down and up the canyon. Two miles past Duck Creek is a dirt road. Three miles down the dirt road, it turns into a pure snow road. Five miles up the pure snow road is where our new friend got his truck stuck.

I knew making conversation was going to be difficult, but I had a long ride ahead of me and got started.

"So what were you doing up there?""I don't know anybody in our apartment. You know more people than I do. I know Elle, but I don't really go over there to see her. I don't really know anyone in our apartments."

I was going to re-phrase the question, but from what I had experienced already I knew it would be to no avail, so I just took that to mean, "I had nothing to do, so I took my truck up the mountain."

"I only really know the guys in #4 and the girls in #3." I knew that was a dumb thing to say because that was still like 9 times the amount of people he knew.

"What about Stefanie?"

"Oh, well yeah I know her too."

"And Elle?"

"Yeah, I know her too I guess." That's what I get for trying to make him feel better about not knowing anyone. He continued to ask me what Elle was up to, and to tell me about how much he cared for her. Apparantly, he had waited too long to ask her out. By the time he did, she said that some guy had just asked her to be his girlfriend. I knew she didn't have a boyfriend, or want one, but I knew I better keep my mouth closed tight about that. I did think about how awkard that conversation must have been. He later told me of an experience he had that had to do with Elle, and I don't feel comfortable talking about it here, so if you want to know, ask me in person, and depending on who you are, I will tell you.

This was also my first dose of how he talked. He has a tendency to repeat the same phrase over and over again. It is quite entertaining to listen too actually. "It's my grandpa's truck. I have taken it everywhere. It's my grandpa's truck and he his dead now. I will never get rid of it because it is the only thing I have left from my grandpa, so I will never get rid of. It is like the only memory I have left of my grandpa. That's why I won't ever get rid of it. Even when the engine is shot and there is no way it will ever work again, I still won't get rid of it." And to those of you who think I am exaggerating, I am making a considerable effort not to exaggerate any of this story. It doesn't need it.

Eventually we made it to his truck. He was completely sideways on the road and his front end was buried. I have no idea what he was thinking. His truck isn't even four-wheel drive. There was no way we were getting it out with the Jeep. We would bury right in the snow. That is why I tried to get this information out of him earlier. Plus, I guess when he got stuck, some guy tried to help him and ended up getting his car stuck, and that guy came back earlier this day and got his car unstuck and took Ryan's tow strap and come along with him. So we turned around and drove back down the canyon.

On the way home I said I didn't think that we would be able to pull the truck out with the Jeep. He said he agreed. Agreed!! Couldn't you tell that it would have been impossible without dragging me up the mountain!?

Chapter Three | The fact that there is a chapter three makes me very upset

It is now a few days later and Saturday. I am making a mixed cd and awaiting a phone call, and thinking to myself, "It is 10p.m. If I had a TV I would be watching Simpsons right now.

Knock, Knock. Aaah @#$%.

"I just got a call from the sheriffs office. They say I have to come get my truck tonight or I will get a citation and it will be towed."

During the awkard, but expected silence that followed, I realized that this is a pet peeve of mine. That is, when someone needs something of you, but instead of asking, they just sit there and hope that you will offer whatever it is they need. And as bad as I wanted to hold out and make him ask, I couldn't take it anymore. I wonder if the agony showed on my face. I bet it did. I bet he saw it too, and thought, "I have him for sure."

"Well, Phil isn't home. He is at work." I didn't know that. He was earlier anyway. "We couldn't get it out with his Jeep anyway."

"The Sheriff's department pulled it out."

"Oh." These awkard silences are really starting to wear on me.

"You don't think your truck can make it up there?" Look at what happened to your truck dummy!

"No way."After a few phone calls we ended up borrowing Stefanie's Jimmy. She is my neighbor and Elle's roommate. Of course he didn't go over there with me to get the keys and stuff. I stalled over there for as long as I could. I tried to persuade her to come, because I had had enough alone time with my roommate to last me forever. She of course knew Ryan also, and declined in a very determined manner.

We had just about the same exact conversations on the way up that we did the last time we drove up the canyon. I wasn't in too poor of a mood. I was bugged that I had to drive him up the canyon, and I wouldn't receive that phone call, but at least we didn't have to pull out his truck. We would drive up and drive back, and I would be my myself on the drive back. This time the drive to his truck seemed to be about twice as long as last time, but we eventually made it to Duck Creek and then the dirt road and then the snow road, to his truck.

I stopped a bit away from where his truck was because I didn't want to get stuck. We walked up to his truck. The Sheriffs department, in their spirit of service, decided it would be a good idea to pull his truck out of the hole it was in, and plop it in another hole on the opposite side of the road. You know, then they could call us and tell us that they pulled it out, and when we got there we would find that they indeed did pull it out, but put it into a freaking ravine on the other side. What a gas. They sure got us this time.

"Well, we will have to go to that guys house and get my strap and come along."

"You know where he lives!?"

We went to the Jimmy to find that it was stuck. The four-wheel drive didn't work at all. Stefanie must not have known because I told her like three times that that is why we needed her car and couldn't take my truck. Now we were in a pickle. We didn't have gloves, hats, or coats because we thought I was just going to drop him off at his truck and come back. It is easily single digits way up there. We tried pushing and digging it out with a stick; it didn't go anywhere and only one tire was moving. I then caught a glimpse of a cabin through the trees and started hiking to it through knee deep snow. By the time I got there I was soaking wet. My feet weren't quite numb yet, so they really hurt. I looked all around for a shovel or something useful. I found a big long board underneath the cabin. While I was trying to weasel it out I heard Ryan scream, "Where'd you go?" I ignored him and tried to get the board out. He yelled again. "Shutup!" I said to myself outloud. The third time I yelled back and told him I was coming. We wedged the board under the the tire to try and give it some traction. It didn't work at all.

"We will have to go to that guy's house. It's down the road a ways, but it is our only option. It's down the road a ways, but it's really our only option." After hearing him say this again I started working vigorously. The last thing I wanted to do was start walking down the road but I eventually gave in. It was also at this time that I started making up my own swear words. The strongest curses I could think of could not sufficiently represent my frustration. They just couldn't do my anger justice. So, I made up these words and pretended that they were really horrible and strong. I don't remember most of them, but I know Dagle and Snart were two of them. I realized Dagle didn't work. All the great curse words have good hard consonants. Dagle started off ok with the D sound, but didn't really go anywhere from there, so I adapted and made sure my words were more harsh sounding. On the way down I asked why we didn't get the strap and come along on the way up, or the other day when we had the Jeep. His answer was that if he had thought about it we would have. How could you not think about it? If someone takes your stuff and you know where it is, don't you go get it? That would have shaved off hours from this excursion.

And then he said laughing, "Don't you just hate stuff like this?" I couldn't quite pin point why this made me so mad.

Chapter 4 | So close, and yet so very very very very very very very far away

We made it to that guy's cabin. It was about two miles away. We found the strap and come along laying on a snowmobile, and we turned around to start the journey back. By this time my feet were sufficiently numb, and it felt like I was was walking on stumps. My face felt like if I wiggled it, it would crumble into pieces and fall off.

I think it was around this time that I realized why that statement made me so mad. During this whole experience there was no "Sorry about this." or "Gee, thanks for wasting two days helping me get my truck unstuck." Maybe I wouldn't have been so mad at him if he showed that he was tiny bit grateful.

I was on the verge of losing it--and then I did, but not the way I expected. After about a mile of silence he said, "It would suck if a cougar came out of those trees and attacked us." And I lost it, except I was laughing really really hard. I think I found it so funny because he wasn't joking or trying to be funny. He was just stating that it would probably not be a very good thing at this point. I mean that really would suck. You know what else would suck? If a centaur came out of nowhere, and told us that his name was Wayne, and that he would protect us from the cougar, and we felt relieved that we wouldn't die, but then the cougar killed the centaur and ate us anyway. Man, that would blow.

We hooked the come along to a tree and started to pull out the truck. I got in to turn the steering wheel. He was making some good progress, but then it got really hard. I got out to try and help him, and then it suddenly got easy.

"Did you have your foot on the brake?" he asked.

"No."

"Well, it's a lot easier now."

I thought for a second. I must have had it on there out of habit. I started laughing, "What a moron!" I laughed, but then I saw that he was really annoyed, and then I got mad again. What right did he have to be bugged with me!? None. I don't care if I did have my foot on the brake. Screw you! You are lucky I don't shove that come along where the moon won't shine and tie you to a tree.

I started working the come along after a bit, and we got it out in just a few minutes. One down one to go. And then a very unwelcome thought entered my brain. This is what it said: "I almost wish that something else would happen to make a this story cooler." It was quickly thrown out. No, I just want to get out of here!

We walked down to the Jimmy. There was only one tree big enough to handle it, but it looked like it was close enough. The tow strap was 20 feet long, and we had an extra 6 feet with the come along. But the guy who had took the tow strap had tied two knots in it making it six inches too short. We could not get these things out. They had been through pulling two cars out, and were super tight. I still have no clue why he would do that. We tried to extend the come along but it had jammed. Trying to get that thing unjammed was the worst. It was metal and freezing cold, and you could only have your hands out of your pockets for so long. We worked with the come along and the knots for awhile until it became clear that another walk was in order.

Chapter 5 | Suicide. Easy way out, or doing yourself a favor?

Walk walk walk. All night long. Walk walk walk while I sing this song. I can't feel my feet, I have no nose. And now I will repeat: Dude, this really blows.

This walk seemed to be the longest of the three. To make the time go faster I would pick out checkpoints a ways down the road, like a tree or a clearing, so that way when we got to the checkpoint it felt like we were making progress. Neither of us said anything until about half way again, and then he made another random comment.

"I can't help but think about what Elle is doing. She is probably sleeping, but I wonder what she is dreaming out."

I wanted to scream from weirdness overload. He has said maybe 20 words to this girl in his entire life. That does not warrant a 'I wonder what she is dreaming about' statement, and I don't care if you are married; don't say that to me, or anyone. Say it to yourself. In your head. Where no one will hear you.

"I am thinking about a hot shower," I said.

"I waited too long to ask her out." Coo-koo. Coo-koo.Once we would get to the road where the guys cabin was, there wasn't much snow on the road itself, but it was very muddy, or was muddy earlier on because now it was frozen solid. And since there had been big fourwheel drives driving over it all winter it was very rutty. It seemed a sprained ankle was inevitable. But, alas, we made it yet again to the cabin without serious injury and without me assaulting my roommate.

"He is going to be pissed," Ryan said as we banged on his door.

"I'm pissed. You should be too. He stole your tow strap and your come along, and then tied a knot in the strap making it too short. Who cares if he's pissed," I said.

Dogs started barking from inside the house. Us knocking on the door hadn't woken him up, but the barking did. He didn't realize we were there, and we could hear him swearing at his dogs to shutup. We waited for the dogs to take a breath and knocked again. He eventually came to the door and we told him the whole situation. He said he needed a second to get dressed and stuff. So he went back inside. I then looked at my phone. It was ten to two.

"Best case scenario is we get home by four," I said.

"What time is it?"

"Ten to two," and then the guy came out. We started walking down to his little Suzuki. He had a flashlight, but the battery was super dead. I don't even think the light made it to the ground. He also had a sprained ankle, and limped creepily. My roommate brought up the knot in the strap. "Yeah, I got that bastard tight," said the guy, completely missing the point. I sat in the back of the car. The backseat was folded and wasn't attached to the floor anyway so I sat on the car floor amidst a mass of mystery items. I pictured greasy car parts and tools, oily rags, cigarrete butts, and old socks. I was sure when I got home I would be filthy from sitting back there. He smoked a cigarrete with the windows rolled down, but I really didn't mind that much because it gave the impression of heat.

Chapter 6 | The end of the last part of the story that will stop now

I got into the Jimmy and the guy tried to pull me out. It took a few minutes and he really had to jerk the car to get it out, but we kind of went off the side of the road and we were still stuck. The guy had unhooked the tow strap and drove away already. We just sat there waiting for him to come back. He eventually did, but he was walking. And since he had a hurt ankle it took him forever to get to the car. The gimp looked like a zombie coming up the road.

"We are still stuck," I yelled, "you will have to pull us out again." But he just kept coming. He arrived and just walked around the car looking at. Then he sat in the car and tried to drive it out. I bet I said we need to pull it out again like five times. I was screaming inside my head. "HEY!!! YOU YAKK WERT!!! THE BLOODY CAR ISN'T GOING TO GET UNSTUCK WITH YOUR LOOKING AT IT, YOU DUMB DERKIN DIKKLE IDIOT!!!!!!

Around a century later he started his limp back to his car. We pulled it out again and had to reverse it down the road about 100 yards to a big pine tree. There was a dry spot under it and we were able to get turned around there. And we were off. We were mobile. Hoo-rah.

It was a little before three by the time we were off and running. As the heat got going in the car it seemed like I was getting colder. I was thawing out and all the feeling was coming back to me, so I was able to feel how cold I really was. On the way home the radio played 'Cumbersome' by Seven Mary Three. Spooky.

I stopped off at the gas station to get something to eat, and walked in the door at 3:45 a.m.

The frickin end.