Sharon Jones, the Dap Kings and One Special Lady

This is Sharon Jones. She is a woman with soul. On Thursday night we witnessed this woman have security escort a 6' 5" white, coffee shop, long hair and bearded brother from Salt Lake's hippie scene onto the stage so she could grind on him while performing. We also witnessed her dance four women and one extremely flamboyant young man in a pink, V-neck shirt named Ludwig off stage.

This woman get's down with the sickness. But she doesn't hold a candle to the drunk, high or who knows what the chuff was wrong with girl behind us at the concert. This bonnie young lass was five foot nothing, extremely hyper active and had absolutely no personal bubble.

I was getting my groove on to the gospel/soul/funk when Alex leaned over and informed me that "the girl behind me keeps on grabbing me." All the sudden I felt a hand clasp my shoulder, and felt a body jumping up and down on my back and a voice screaming into my ear "Hey, Hey, How's it going?" on the off beats.

Correction: I felt breasts on my back.

I could tell by the general weight of the body, feel of the "protrusions" in contact with my back and timing between words being yelled in my ear that this was a short, square woman who could pass for a viking queen. I looked over only to see a truly disturbed look on Alex's face. I erupted in laughter and he soon joined me. We just laughed and ignored her as the mammography took place on our backs. After about five minutes she was separated from us by a crowd of front row fans who needed refreshment.

I'm not sure if it was drugs, alcohol, loneliness, mental illness or a strange craze that can only be inspired by an African American diva complete with back up singers and an eight piece ensemble. I only know that it was rather gross, and I almost received a hernia from laughter.

AS FOR THE MUSIC:

It was so rad!! ! I've never been to a concert with this type of music. I wasn't alone in my ignorance of her songs. In fact, I didn't know a single jam, but I still had a blast. I, yes even I, the king of anti-dance, cut a rug with the soul/funk. Alex and I couldn't help but boogie down.

So we give thanks to:

Sharon Jones

The Dap Kings

The entire Salt Lake coffee house community who was in attendance

And for honorable mention:

She who has no name.

Can't say thanks, but what a memory!

The P & A Stamp of Approval

On the 5th day of the 8th month of the two thousand and tenth year since the birth of our Lord, Alex and Phil had been together for approximately six days. That's one day shy of a week for those of you who don't believe in calenders.

Upon awaking from a deep slumber the dynamic duo entered into a discussion on the finer things in life. I'm not talking about any MTV "Hot or Not" crap, but the revival of an ancient tradition that has been passed down for thousands of years from our ancestors: The P&A Stamp of Approval.

First up on the list: Carne Asada Fries. Possibly the most unhealthy meal on the planet. Take the usual deep fried potatoes we call french fries and smother them in sour cream, guacamole, cheese and picco de gallo. Then throw on some red and green salsa, squeeze some limes on there for good measure and voila! you've got God's lunch. Seriously. This will most def change your life: certain to result in supreme satisfaction, death or both. If you've got depression and high cholesterol just go for it. Suicide has never been so satisfying. Enough said.

Heavy Weights: "It's just Father Sky, Mother Earth and your dear old Uncle Tony."

Who needs an chuffin' Oscar when you can get a P&A Stamp of Approval? If I were to give a synopsis of this movie it would go as follows:

A bunch of chufflets at fat camp who are under the supervision of Richard Simmons on speed and LSD. Ben Stiller is Tony Perkis. Get ready to Perkisize, and "come here you devil log!"

We've been quoting this movie all week. You should too.

"You've been a good guard Nicholas. Strong and fair, your Queen would be proud."

Number three: Radical Face.

Take a base of The Shins and throw in a touch of Explosions in the Sky and Radiohead and you get this Indie Rocker (with shades of Iron and Wine thrown in the mix). He's a Pandora find for me. I've heard his music a few times on one of my stations over the past few months, and I've liked every song. So when I heard him this week I decided to buy the album. Dude. Legit. Alex bought it the next day and we've been rockin' the album nonstop since. It's a few years old, but it's fresh for us. Check it out!

Titled "Ghost."

Last but certainly not least, this gem is a result of clicking random links on ESPN.com.

Anytime a UFC fighter decides to write a survival book and the cover is a picture of him in a loin cloth we will support it. Let's be honest, we'll never read it, but it is still B to the A.

Plus it seems rather ironic since we watched Terminator Salvation yesterday. This lead to a heated discussion: Zombie Apocalypse VS the world of Terminators. I maintain that living in the world of Terminators would be infinitely better than a world of Zombies, but Alex is more in favor of kicking zombie butt with out taking ANY names.

In either case we're certain we would be raiding Uncle Sam's Army Navy store across the street and buying a copy of this novel ASAP.

There you have it. P and A Approved and ready for business. Peace.

Quote of the Week

For those of you who are unaware of my current employment, I am a counselor for BYU Sports Camps. It is a fine job with lots of opportunity to have a good time. The following story takes place at my place of work. I was returning to the dorms after a meeting with my supervisor when I came across two young volleyball players. The lads asked me if my name was Harvey. Unbeknownst to them, my nickname amongst my fellow counselors was Harvey Dent or Two-Face due to my resemblance to one Aaron Eckhart. I laughed at the question posed by the two campers and told them that that was not my name, however it is one of my aliases. The boys then asked me the following question, "Who is Harvey Dent and Two-Face?" Anger stirred within my breast as I contemplated the sheer stupidity of that question. I wished to sit and educate the young lads and tell them the grand stories and adventures of Batman and his duels with Two-Face. However, they had angered me too much. So I responded, "They are one and the same. He is from Batman. I love Batman. And you have defiled him. Go to your rooms." Then I watched as they hung their heads in shame and marched off to their lonely dorm rooms. Mother chuffers.

Skinny Pete and Big Bubba Joe

In the days of yesteryear Nickelodeon made a show called, "The Adventures of Pete and Pete."

I never watched it.

I may not have the right to bash it.

But I'll do it anyway.

They obviously didn't see this coming. Alex and Phil, Phil and Alex, either way you say it it means "too legit for television." Luckily we have the Internet and anything is legal here. It just depends on how repressive your government is. God Bless America.

So we've been apart for 8 months. You may think that's not that long since we live hundreds of miles apart, but to us that is an exorbitant and ungodly amount of time. We've made up for it. God Bless America.

We started off our reunion at a complete stranger's house with a scream, followed by a spit shake, followed by a hug. Immaturity, audacity and Weezer music are like oxygen in this relationship. The image above is of us holding hands, jumping off a rock and clicking our heels as we plummet toward a rocky river bed. God Bless America.

Today, we drove from St. George to Provo in style. Luckily we each had our own vehicle, allowing us to take multiple perspectives of the road simultaneously and create a road block for any chuffer who we felt deserved it. God Bless America.

Under the aliases of Skinny Pete and Big Bubba Joe we navigated the difficult course through a constant barrage of redneck banter: our instruments, $25 Wal-Mart walkie talkies, our language, trucker. Four hours of people watching on the road is way cooler when you're speaking like a hick into a radio. The trip was magical until Satan reared his ugly head and smote Skinny Pete's walkie talkie with a loss of power. Luckily our love for our country and the fact that we only had thirty miles left helped us to pull through. God Bless America... and no one else.

What a wonderful day in the neighborhood...

Greetings inhabitants of the earth! A long, long time ago two men became life-friends. No, we are not "partners." Merely life-friends. Two men bonded by friendship and a love of adventure. For over 3 years we have embarked on adventures and shenanigans. The time has now come to share those adventures with the world. We can no longer contain our awesomeness. The purpose of this blog is to share our adventures with all the world. The adventures will be both shared together and in our own separate lives, but they are ours. Enjoy. And may the mass times acceleration be with you.