Wedding Crasher

Since I’ve become some-what of a grown-up by working a grown-up job this summer, 8 to 5 every day Monday through Friday, I decided I’d do what all grown-ups do! And that is GO ON A MUCH NEEDED VACATION! Luckily, one of my best friends from the mission (Scott) was getting married in Salt Lake City, and this provided me with just the opportunity I needed to get away from work for a few days and have an adventure in the great state of Utah.

Looking back on the adventure that was, I’ve drawn some surprisingly similar parallels to one hilariously funny film, Wedding Crashers (of course the TBS version only). So let me “Lock it Up” for you and tell you all about it…

The first thing that I had to do was actually get to the wedding. Being from Virginia I’m not the most directionally-inclined person when it come to navigating the desert-like terrain of Utah. I’ve been visiting family and friends in Utah since I was 3 years old but I’ve never quite gotten the hang of the whole “grid system” (200N, 400S), even though everyone in Utah continues to tell me that it’s the easiest thing in the world. Frankly I’m much more comfortable following directions like “go about a mile and turn right at the second light after the Dairy Queen on your left”. But when people start jabbering on about go east a mile then bare south, I begin to get a headache and start to wish that I had remembered to pack my compass. Lucky for me my Grandpa Bunnel (my mom’s dad) is a retired engineer and a capable cartographer. He drew me maps to and from Salt Lake City, to and from the reception, and he probably could have drawn me a map to and from the moon if I’d have asked him to do so. :) Each map contained multiple routes of arrival, just in case I was somehow able to get lost. And so it began, dressed in my Italian suit and armed with my hand-drawn maps (I brought my GPS too) I made my way to the Salt Lake City Temple where I’d have the privilege of seeing my friend and his wife be sealed together in marriage.

I really wasn’t too worried about parking. My friend, Scott, had said to park in the deck next to the Temple and simply inform the attendant that I was there for the Palmer wedding. My Grandpa had also conveniently drawn the location of the parking garage on his map. The parking garage was directly under Temple Square and was in between the Church Office Building and the Temple itself. I located the place without any real problems and made my way down the ramp into the deck. I had failed to read the blaring sign in front of the ramp that stated “PARKING BY PERMIT ONLY”. So as I pulled up to the attendant’s window I told him what I thought to be “the magic words”, “I’m here for the Palmer Wedding” and he looked at me as if I were speaking Greek. It was a little awkward; I must have looked like a very confused, but well-dressed country bumpkin from the backwoods of Virginia. Then he said, “Umm, yeah, you aren’t suppose to be here!” I was pretty embarrassed, but thankfully the man took pity on me and gave me a parking permit for the day and said “I’m being nice to you. Just go park over there in L2.” It didn’t even occur to me until later that I might have been parking my car right next to President Monson (Haha…”Hey what’s shakin’ Tommy?”). I was so excited about my good fortune that I parked in the first available spot I could find, jumped out of my Grandma’s car, and began searching for a way out of the labyrinth-like parking garage.

It’s still a little unclear to me how I actually managed to get out of the parking garage. I remember going through one door here, up some stairs there, and then inexplicably I somehow found myself outside in the middle of Temple Square. It felt great to walk around the grounds and see all the people getting married (I heard someone say that 55 weddings were happening that day at the Salt Lake Temple) and how happy they all looked being surrounded by their families and loved ones. I took some time to look around the visitor’s center and I even ran into a sister missionary from southern Italy. My good mood suddenly turned to panic as I realized that I had no idea where exactly I was to be in order to see my friend’s wedding. He had told me to be at the Temple by 2:10, but now that I was here it occurred to me that Temple Square was a pretty big place and that I had no earthly idea where I needed to be. In a strange twist of fate (that I’m sure could only have happened in Utah) I ran into an ex-mission companion (Anziano Payton Johnson) and a kid that I had grown up with in Richmond, Virginia (Ryan Witt). These two very familiar faces were able to help me find first, the entrance and second the waiting area where I needed to be.

Sitting and waiting for my friend’s wedding ceremony to start I felt a little more calm because I was in the place that I needed to be. But then as I scanned the room it occurred to me that I didn’t recognize a single face in the crowd. My mind began to race in panic as I realized that the only two people that I truly knew in the wedding were the bride and groom themselves! I had seen their parents once before but could not confidently pick them out in a crowd. In truth I didn’t know them from Adam, and I was sure the feeling was mutual on their side! As I waited along with about 60 other people for various weddings I heard an announcement for “the Palmer Wedding”, and so I took this to be my cue to follow the crowd of people that were heading to the pre-assigned location where the wedding would take place.

As I followed the crowd I couldn’t help but feel very “single” (I think I was one of only two single people invited to see the actual ceremony!) and I felt the burning eyes of the other people in the crowd. I could almost hear their thoughts: “Who is that clown? He must be with the _______ (fill in “bride’s family” or “groom’s family” depending on who was looking at me).” I ignored the looks of everyone else as best I could and eventually I found a seat in the back of the room. Soon we were joined by my friend and his soon-to-be-wife and all of my mishaps, miscues and mistakes were forgotten. Scott saw me first as they came into the room and I could tell he was ecstatic that I had made it. Being able to be witness to such an important moment in my friend’s life made it all worthwhile and I felt honored to have been included. The ceremony was beautiful and at its conclusion I was able to embrace my friend and his wife, they expressed their joy and excitement that I had come so far just for them, and I was able to formally congratulate them.

Since a wedding is an event that “has to always be remembered,” pictures are a must. This wedding was no different. The forecast had predicted torrential showers, but the rain had held off most of the day and it appeared that we would be lucky enough to avoid getting wet altogether! However, our luck soon ran out. It seemed that as the photographer instructed us to “say cheese” for the first picture, the skies opened up and let loose all they had. We were instantly soaked and left fleeing for cover from the grape-sized raindrops. Someone in the crowd joked, “Well, if rain is good luck, then you guys will be the luckiest couple there ever was!” It was quickly determined that the photos would have to wait until another day, and that we would go straight to the reception that was happening in a town called Midway (about an hour from Salt Lake City).

Umbrella in hand, I ran through the rain to find my car. This proved to be much more difficult than anticipated because the door that I had used to get out of the parking deck had somehow managed to disappear into thin air. For close to 15 minutes I wandered aimlessly through the waterlogged streets in and around Temple Square to no avail. Dejected, I finally consigned myself to swallow my pride and simply walk down the entrance ramp that cars use to enter the deck. However the parking attendant that I met at the top of the ramp didn’t find my plan as acceptable as I did. Instead she directed me to a stairwell that would lead me to the parking garage. At long last I made it out of the rain and amongst a multitude of compact cars and a few luxury sedans. I dried off my face, collected my wits, and thought, “Okay, now where did I park my white…dodge stratus…uh oh!” I had forgotten that I had left my car back in Philadelphia and that I had driven my Grandma’s car to the wedding! I couldn’t even remember what type of car Grandma had! Was it a Ford or Toyota? I think it was gold, or maybe it was silver? Oh no it was definitely brown…I think?! “It’s alright,” I thought, “I just need to find L2. How hard could that be?” It was at this point that I saw a D13 posted on column and realized that L2 wasn’t a parking section at all, but rather that it merely indicated that I was on Level 2 of the parking deck! Maybe you’ve seen the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry, George, Kramer and Elaine get lost in a parking garage? This was exactly what happened to me! I walked around for almost a half an hour pointing and pushing the automatic lock button on the key-ring at pretty much anything that had 4 wheels, 4 doors, and was some form of gold, silver or brown! I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. It must have been quite the site!

I am happy to report that I did eventually find Grandma’s car (a gold 4-door, Toyota Avalon; I’ll probably never forget that again!) and made it safely to the reception. The reception was very nice. Friends and family had come from all over to give their best to the new couple. Since I had attended the wedding ceremony, many of the family members at the reception were interested to meet me and introduce themselves. I had to answer the question, “Who are you related to?” about 20 times! I wanted to adhere to the strict code set forth by my Wedding Crashing Brothers: Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, but I couldn't bring myself to follow Rule #14 (which says that You're always a distant relative of a dead cousin) by answering as follows, “Oh…me? I’m Cousin Steven’s sister’s brother! You know the one with the face?!” I was too afraid of being caught in my “lie”. Instead I had to explain that I was merely a friend of the groom from our days in the MTC before our missions in Milano and Rome, Italy. In spite of barrage of questioning, I felt much more in my element at the reception, mainly because it was full of eligible young single ladies. :)

See http://www.tbs.com/stories/story/0,,133461,00.html for a complete list of The Crasher’s Code.

Rule #1: Never leave a fellow Crasher behind. Crashers take care of their own. This is the first rule of wedding crashing. Since I had come without a “wing-man” I was free from the clutches of Rule #59; however, coming without a wingman did put me at a disadvantage, and I had to be careful not to get cornered into any unwanted situations. I was on top of my game! The Greeting Line was one of the first things I participated in at the reception. The Greeting Line itself is something of an enigma. It’s a line of about 20 people, but only two with which you really would like to speak. So you essentially have to make small talk with all these people before the bride and groom and then continue the unwanted conversations after the bride and groom until you finally lumber through the line. I was pleased to see that at the beginning of the Greeting Line was a large group of bridesmaids! Following Rules #13 and #17 I made small talk with the lovely ladies. One commented on how my dress shirt was textured, and the sly devil had to feel the material for herself. After I mentioned that my suit jacket’s material was “textured” as well and we had a good laugh.

After I had finished going through the Greeting Line I had an important decision to make. Two tables with open seats caught my eye. One was obviously full of ex-missionaries from the Rome Italy Mission, and the other table was lined with bridesmaids and girls that had done the bride’s make-up. The decision was pretty easy…and I sat myself down with the ladies and began to work my magic! Lock it up!!!

The reception was great! We saw Scott and his wife cut the cake and then proceed to smash cake pieces in each other’s faces, dance their first dance, and of course the bouquet was thrown to a pack a ravenous single girls! Before I left I made sure to thanks Scott and Sarah for letting me come and celebrate with them. They in turn thanked me for coming and let me know how much it had meant to them that I had come so far just for them. Before I left Sarah made sure to let me know that she had seen my shenanigans with her roommates. She said, “I saw you over there workin’ it with my friends!” I said, “You got me all wrong. I was just trying to show some good old ‘southern hospitality’.” She didn’t believe me for one second, and we had a good laugh before we said our goodbyes.

In closing I’ll leave you with this parting phrase and words to live by: Lock it Up!

1 in 6,720

Well it’s been a while since I last blogged, and so much stuff has happened to me. I wish I could write about it all, but there just isn’t enough time. So let me first give you a quick recap of what’s been going on, and then I’ll describe a particularly crazy awesome experience that happened to me. Do first, the quick recap about what has been going on in my life: I finished my junior year of college! (Wow, I can hardly believe it either), I survived Organic Chemistry with an “A” first semester and a “B” second semester, I was released from my calling as Secretary of the Stake Young Men’s Presidency and subsequently called to be the 1st counselor in our Singles Ward’s Elders Quorum, and lastly I moved to Philadelphia for the summer to work full time and “earn some serious coin” (thanks Sheena and Jay for letting me crash your place for the summer, you guys are the best!).

Now for the crazy cool once in a life-time experience. This past semester I took a course called Digital Signal Processing. This class was essentially a computer programming class that utilized the program MatLab to generate, filter, and isolate biological signals. It sounds confusing and hard and…well, it is! To make matters worse my professor, while a he was a very jovial and friendly Asian man, he was…well, I’ll just say that being from China, English was not his strong suit. In fact, I’ll say it frankly, his English was atrocious! He would mumble and jibber on about this and that, and whenever he would get stuck linguistically he would break out into unexplainable laughter. Learning the subject of Digital Signal Processing (DSP) was as you can imagine quite the challenge for me. The first exam did not go as well as I expected; despite my best efforts I scored 72%. I was determined that my 2nd and final exam would go much better (it had to if I wanted to have any chance at getting an “A”).

As the 2nd exam approached I made sure to study as much as I could so that I would be thoroughly prepared. The day of the exam arrived, and I felt confident that I would perform well. But as I opened the test booklet and scanned over the exam, my heart raced and I began to freak out at all of the problems on the test that highlighted principles and topics that I hadn’t expected.

I took a second to calm myself down, took a deep breath, and methodically began to work my way through the test. As I worked my way through the test I began to feel more and more confident that I was actually doing the problems correctly, but I was working at too slow a pace! Only 5 minutes remained in class and I still had an entire section left to complete! It was a matching section that included 8 equations. 6 of the 8 equations had to be matched with their corresponding graphical output; sounds easy right? Well maybe it sounds easy, but when you have no idea what you’re doing and you’re playing “beat the clock” it’s a lot harder and more stressful. So there I was, no earthly idea what I was doing, with a completely bank page in front of me. What was worse was that this matching section constituted 25% of the total test! So there was no margin for error! I could drop from A to C without even blinking an eye. I worked feverishly, trying to figure out at least one of the problems, but the more I tried the more confused I got. Soon the professor was calling time, and I had still only answered one of the questions (and I wasn’t even sure that I had gotten that one right!). So having consigned myself to lose an immediate 25 points on my test, I thought, “What the heck.” and randomly matched equations with plots. I made the long walk up to the front of the class to turn in my paper and asked the Teaching Assistant to have pity on me, and then I left disgusted with my apparent failure.

A few days later I was in my professor’s office asking a homework-related question when I noticed a stack of graded exams on his desk. Curious, I asked if he had gotten to mine. In his broken English he said that he had, and then he said, “You do very well.” I was completely confused. I had to be misunderstanding him. How could I have possibly gotten a good grade?! I was sure that I couldn’t get anything higher than a C, so how could I have possibly gotten a good grade? But as I picked up my graded test, I about fainted as I saw a big fat 85 on my paper! I was elated. How could it be? I had guessed on the entire matching section! Could it be that I was lucky enough to have guessed correctly? I looked at the matching section…I had done the unthinkable…out of 6 answers I had correctly chosen 5 of them (at random I might add). My good fortune would eventually prove to be enough to allow me to get an “A”. Without my lucky guessing I’m not sure whether or not I would have been able to get an “A”.

Maybe you’re not impressed with this story, but let me crunch some numbers for you. The odds of me doing what I did on this test were astronomical! Choosing the correct answer from a list of 8 possibilities is in it of itself amazing, but to do it 5 times is down right crazy improbable. I calculated the odds: it’s 8 factorial for all the possible choices I had, i.e. (1/8) x (1/7) x (1/6) x (1/5) x (1/4) = (1 in 6,720). Basically, the odds weren’t in my favor! But it must have been my lucky day. Thinking about it now I probably should have bought a lottery ticket or something. If I were to have this kind of luck every 6,720 days I’d have to wait another 18½ years before I have another day like the one I had the day of my test. Hopefully I didn’t use all my good luck prematurely. I’ll probably need it again someday soon!

Inspector Zentgraf

In passing, I recently told a friend that I had a "type A" personality. She started to ask me a few questions about my habits and then she suggested that I take a personality test. It was a short test that took only five minutes (found at http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp).

The following are my results. I found them to be pretty interesting and quite accurate.

Portrait of the Inspector (ISTJ)

The one word that best describes Inspectors is superdependable. Whether at home or at work, Inspectors are extraordinarily persevering and dutiful, particularly when it comes to keeping an eye on the people and products they are responsible for. In their quiet way, Inspectors see to it that rules are followed, laws are respected, and standards are upheld.

Inspectors (as much as ten percent of the general population) are the true guardians of institutions. They are patient with their work and with the procedures within an institution, although not always with the unauthorized behavior of some people in that institution. Responsible to the core, Inspectors like it when people know their duties, follow the guidelines, and operate within the rules. For their part, Inspectors will see to it that goods are examined and schedules are kept, that resources will be up to standards and delivered when and where they are supposed to be. And they would prefer that everyone be this dependable. Inspectors can be hard-nosed about the need for following the rules in the workplace, and do not hesitate to report irregularities to the proper authorities. Because of this they are often misjudged as being hard-hearted, or as having ice in their veins, for people fail to see their good intentions and their vulnerability to criticism. Also, because Inspectors usually make their inspections without much flourish or fanfare, the dedication they bring to their work can go unnoticed and unappreciated.

While not as talkative as Supervisor Guardians [ESTJs], Inspectors are still highly sociable, and are likely to be involved in community service organizations, such as Sunday School, Little League, or Boy and Girl Scouting, that transmit traditional values to the young. Like all Guardians, Inspectors hold dear their family social ceremonies-weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries - although they tend to be shy if the occasion becomes too large or too public. Generally speaking, Inspectors are not comfortable with anything that gets too fancy. Their words tend to be plain and down-to-earth, not showy or high-flown; their clothes are often simple and conservative rather than of the latest fashion; and their home and work environments are usually neat, orderly, and traditional, rather than trendy or ostentatious. As for personal property, they usually choose standard items over models loaded with features, and they often try to find classics and antiques - Inspectors prefer the old-fashioned to the newfangled every time.

Queen Elizabeth II, Harry S. Truman, Warren Buffet, Queen Victoria, James K. Polk, and J.D. Rockefeller are examples of Inspector Guardians.

The Guardian type most driven to perfectionism and detail is the Inspector (ISTJ). They are attracted to fields where accuracy and precision is needed. They are often found in business and/or finance in positions such as accountant, insurance underwriter, office manager, or bank examiner. Like the Supervisors, they may find their niche in civil service as a detective or an IRS agent. Professional positions in teaching or medicine and legal and technical occupations are also attractive. Says Benita, "I found that I wanted to work in a position where I had the time to make things right. As an estate planner, I enjoy helping people work toward a safe and secure future."

Crazy Dreamin'

So…I don’t know how often it happens to you, but it seems that I have crazy weird dreams pretty frequently. My "psychedelic" dreams, like most I imagine, are generally brought on by an overly robust late-night snack or school stress, but regardless of the motive, they are always so "out there" and full of the most random things! Most of the time when I wake up after a weird dream I can only vaguely recall having a weird dream and the details are just a fuzzy blur of insanity. But the other day I woke up and could remember every single silly detail, so I felt obliged to share it with someone. Hopefully you think it’s as weird and funny as I did.

Before delving into my dream a little background information is necessary. In one of my classes, Biotransport Processes, our grades are calculated from only 9-10 graded assignments consisting of quizzes, lab reports, and homeworks. Each of these assignments carries the same weight, so it’s important to not mess up on these assignments. Every other week we have a quiz on the material that we covered during the previous 2-week period. The instructor of this class has one important rule: DO NOT MISS CLASS ON QUIZ DAY! We only have 15 minutes on quiz days to complete the quiz and if we are not present than we receive a big fat ZERO for a grade, with absolutely no chance to replace this grade. There is a Final Exam that is offered at the end of the semester that can replace up to 3 of our lowest quiz grades, but a ZERO cannot be replaced no matter what!

Onto the dream…
It was just another normal Monday morning and as usual I was on my way into the city for my Biotransport class. I thought that I had left the house with plenty of time to spare, but then all of a sudden I looked down at the clock and I noticed that I was already late for class! So I continued on with new motivation to quicken my pace. I couldn’t be late for my quiz and afford taking a zero! I raced down the narrow and pot-hole-ridden streets of Richmond in search of a free parking spot. I was already 10 minutes late! Finally I found a vacant parking spot on the sidewalk and decided that I’d risk the parking ticket so that I could at least try and start my quiz. I was now 13 minutes late. As I entered the classroom, my instructor (who is also the Department of the Biomedical Engineering Department at VCU) stared at me and said in his nasally voice, "Well, look who decided to finally show up." I tried to apologize as I sat in my normal chair, but he wasn’t listening. He just put two pizza boxes in front of me and then handed me the quiz. I was, well…confused to say the least! Why was he giving me two boxes of pizza? I opened one up and saw a hot pepperoni pizza inside. I was tempted to take a slice out and start eating, but I thought better of it deciding that it was a "clever ploy" by my professor to distract me from starting on my quiz. So I looked down at my quiz and read the first question: "Which restaurant recently won an award for its clean eating conditions?" A) IHOP B) The Waffle House.

Yes I know that this is a very random question to have on a college exam, but that’s was it was.

I recalled hearing over the radio during my morning commute The Waffle House had just won such an award. So I was inclined to circle choice B. But, then my common sense kicked in and I remembered that just a few days ago I had eaten at a Waffle House (which I really had done only a few days before) and it was still one of the most disgustingly gross places to eat! I was torn between following my common sense or just circling an answer. So there I sat, stumped as to what the correct answer could possibly be. Then as I closed my eyes and was about to blindly circle which ever answer my pencil landed on, my professor called time and quickly came and took my paper away.

"Well," I said "it looks like I’ll be taking the final exam to make this one up."

My professor looked at me as if I was speaking Chinese. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You know that you can’t possibly make this grade up."

Now I was the one who was confused! "What do you mean?" I replied with a hint of anger in my voice. "I was here for the quiz…well, sort of…and so I’ll just take the final exam and replace that grade with the abysmal one that I will get on this quiz."

He looked at me, then my paper, and then at me again! "This," he said pointing at my paper "is a ZERO! You haven’t written anything. In fact you didn’t even write your name, so as far as I’m concerned you weren’t even here for class today." I looked at my paper in disbelief. He was right. I hadn’t written a single word on my paper, and it was certain that I would be getting a zero on the assignment. I tried to argue the unfairness of the situation, but my mouth couldn’t form any audible sound. And so my professor walked off laughing and leaving me to my two boxes of pizzas.

This is the point where I sat straight up in my bed in a cold sweat! For a second I wondered if what I had dreamed really had happened! I looked over at my alarm clock and even though I originally wasn’t going to wake up for another half an hour, I decided that I was going to get up right away and not risk arriving late to school!

Storming the Court

Have you ever watched a college-sporting event where a team wins the big game and then all the fans run onto the playing field to celebrate? Doesn’t that look awesome? Haven’t you ever thought, "Man, I’d love to do that too!" I sure have!

Monday I had the chance to fulfill this dream of mine as my school’s basketball team reached the conference championship game and handily defeated our arch-rivals the George Mason Patriots! Winning this game meant that our team would be going to the NCAA Tournament, so naturally it was big deal for us! We as fans did our part to get the "W". We worked hard the entire game by yelling, cheering, and boo-ing every chance we got!

We jumped around the entire time only sitting down when half-time came. The stadium was electric with the enthusiasm of the crowd. At times you could hardly hear yourself think. Our team dominated the entire game. And as the the final minutes of the game ticked away our team was leading by 15+ points and Whitney and I decided to join the mass of students that were leaving their seats to go line up along the side of the court so as to run on as soon as the final buzzer sounded! I ran out to center court and jumped up and down with the players and rest of the fans! We chanted V…C…U! and hooped and hollered because for the moment WE WERE THE CHAMPS!
I was in the middle of the fray and was close enough to give high-fives to our two star players: Eric Maynor and Larry Sanders! We stayed on the court as the Championship Trophy was presented to our team and even watched as our players performed the mandatory college basketball ritual of climbing up a ladder to cut down the net on the basketball hoop. As Whitney and I left the stadium the city of Richmond was still booming with energy. We high-fived complete strangers on the street and the night sky filled up with car horns that blasted non-stop! We were champs! And no one could say otherwise!

Profiling for a Lab Partner

I’ve been in college now going on 5 semesters, and it seems that every semester my course load is always filled with long tedious lab periods. I remember that my very first semester I had 3 labs: General Chemistry, Animal Biology, and even an Intro to Engineering lab. The thing about labs is that they are always more work than they are worth. Every week you are in lab for an insanely long period time (up to 3 full hours), and then the rest of the week is taken up with writing up the stupid lab report about how you "attempted" to perform the lab, and yet it somehow failed miserably anyway. I heard that, "Prayer will never be taken out of schools as long as teachers continue to give exams". I agree completely with this last statement and add my little pearl of wisdom, "that as long as students continue to perform simple experiments, the basic laws and theories of physics, chemistry, and all other modern sciences will continue to be disproved on a regular basis."

I used to think that having three 3-hour lab periods a week was terribly unfair and completely abnormal (which in speaking with other students whose majors are "normal" and NOT Biomedical Engineering, I’ve discovered that this is the case), but since my schedule hasn’t deviated much in the three years that I’ve been in college, I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll never be able to escape labs as long as I’m in school. I’ve taken so many lab classes that I’m not sure I can remember them all: Animal and Plant Biology, Chemistry, Organic Chemistry, Engineering, Electrical Circuits, Physics, Physiology, Biomechanics, Biomedical Instrumentation, Biotransport, Digital Signal Processing, and I’m sure I’m leaving out one or two. However, if there is one advantage to taking so many labs it’s that you become very proficient in picking out just the right lab partner! This is key to one’s success to surviving the weekly 3-hour-1-credit-hell know as lab! I learned this lesson my very first year in college. I wasn’t pro-active in choosing my lab partner and so I got the "bottom of the barrel". I soon found out that the "bottom of the barrel" doesn’t always come to class (mine came 5 times out of 9…which is above 50%, but just barely…haha) and they tend to leave things until the last minute. So my freshman year, while I sat alone soldering together "our" robot project I vowed never to let someone else chose my partner for me.

This semester started off no differently than any other. 3 labs on my class schedule meant 3 chances to get screwed with another leech of a lab partner. Today, I started my Organic Chemistry Lab. Organic Chemistry is a hell in it of itself, so combine it with a lab and you get hell squared! (I think I now understand what the Italian author, Dante, was talking about when he wrote about the "Ninth Circle of Inferno" in his Divine Comedy). Since I didn’t know anybody that was going to be in the lab section with me, I decided that I would arrive several minutes early. This way I would be able to scope out any "potential" lab partners, thereby assuring myself that I wouldn’t be stuck with some bozo of a lab partner that would just sit back, do nothing, and make me do everything! But actually….come to think of it, if I were someone that wanted to find a lab partner that would do all of the work for me so that I could kick back and chill, I would most definitely show up early on the first day of lab too. That way I could find some super-smart kid that would do all the work and I could just show up and reap the benefits (Dang it! My plan may have back-fired on me!!! Curses)

As I stood outside of the lab room, a few people caught my eye. Some good, some not so good. Blood-shot eyes and bed-head were definitely negative marks against potential candidates; while clean shaven faces and lab books in hand were signs that I might be getting closer to finding my new lab partner for the semester. I finally decided that this one dude in my lab looked pretty smart, and that I would try to be his lab partner. "What made him look smart?" you may ask. Well, for starters, he had glasses! You can always tell a bookworm by his glasses. Since he was early to class and carried his lab manual with him, I thought that we’d make a good team for the semester. Plus he was Asian. We introduced ourselves to one another, and I soon realized that we were actually in the same Organic Chemistry Lecture class. There are about 200 of us so it’s not surprising that we hadn’t really ever met before. But what was surprising was what I learned next about my new lab partner. He told me that he was actually the President of the Pre-Med Society! I could hardly believe it! I had hit the jack-pot of lab partners! President of the Pre-Med Society! You know this guy needs an A in Organic Chemistry. He’s got to apply for Med-School someday, and all pre-med students are always studying so they can make the good grades they need to get accepted into Med-School. So it would appear that this semester is looking up for me, and that I won’t be stressing out over lab partners that don’t show up to class. Atleast I hope not…knock on wood.

The Brog: Holiday Edition

I had the best intentions of blogging all about my holiday happenings, but as I’m sure you are well aware, time has a way of slipping through your fingers just like sand. You just never seem to have as much time as you think you do. And so, I hope you will accept my apology for the lateness, read on, and enjoy the Zentgraf Family Holiday report.

Thanksgiving: I think that Thanksgiving is slowly becoming my most favorite holiday. While on my mission in Italy I missed out on two consecutive Thanksgiving feasts. Even though most simple Italian dinners can make you feel like it’s Thanksgiving everyday, there is just something about sitting down to a big plate of mash potatoes, gravy, turkey, stuffing, homemade rolls, and pumpkin pie that makes you feel great and glad that we celebrate past historical events by stuffing our faces with food! As is the normal Thanksgiving tradition here in Chesterfield, Virginia, Thanksgiving means Turkey Bowl! Over 40 men, young and old alike, woke up early Thanksgiving morning to show off their lack of skill. It really is quite the spectacle to see everyone who comes to the Turkey Bowl trying to look like the pros. Everyone wears their sports jerseys that no matter how much we would like, still can’t transform us into the real pro athletes, the cleats that don’t make us any quicker than we already are, and the gloves that don’t help us catch the ball even when we’re wide open! Everyone had fun, fortunately no major injuries occurred, and 3 ½ hours after it began, the Turkey Bowl came to an end, and we all left the field tired and ready to eat. The Zentgraf Thanksgiving Feast was shared with another family, the Gomez family, and their 5 kids (all under 12 years of age). And our day was filled with the three F’s: food, football, and friends.

Since Thanksgiving came so late this year, Whitney and I only had one week of classes before our fall semester concluded. This fall Whitney and I have been in the same Organic Chemistry class. It has been quite the experience for the both of us. Most of the time we’ve gotten along and not annoyed each other too much. There has always been a "friendly" debate in the Zentgraf house as to who the smartest Zentgraf is, and this class presented the perfect opportunity to put this debate to rest once and for all. With such a short period of time before the start of our final exams Whitney and I set our differences aside and took over the kitchen turning it into our very own Chemistry study hall with an explosion of old exams, flash cards, text books, and other scrap pieces of paper on the kitchen table. The final exam was very difficult, but fortunately Whitney and I were able to do well enough to both get A’s in the class. Unfortunately the answer to who the smartest Zentgraf child is, remains unanswered. I was lucky enough to get an A thanks to a generous class curve while Whitney logged a 90% grade without the curve! But I was able to excel in the laboratory portion of the class while Whitney encountered some difficulty, falling just short of the A grade. So I suppose we will just have to wait another semester before we can say who is the smartest. :) However when all is said and done the answer may not be Whitney or myself because Krystal consistently brings home report cards that are overflowing with A+ marks!

Christmas: This Christmas our family exchanged some early and unwanted "presents." My Dad was the first to give his cold to my Mom, who then returned the favor by giving it to me, and now Whitney has received a late Christmas present by starting to need to take tissues with her everywhere she goes. Mom’s cold was so bad that she couldn’t even make Christmas Eve dinner. With Mom out of commission and Dad just getting over his cold, the focus shifted to me to make something for Christmas dinner. Luckily I learned a thing or two about cooking on my mission, and I decided to make one of my favorite Italian dishes for Christmas dinner, which is Arancini Siciliani. Arancini are rice balls that are held together with Parmesan cheese and eggs and then filled with a homemade meat sauce and mozzarella cheese. The rice balls are then covered with flour, eggs, and breadcrumbs and finally deep-fried in peanut oil. Making Arancini Siciliani is a lengthy process but they are well worth it because they taste like heaven on earth. The following pictures show the starting and finished product and some of the in-between steps. My mouth starts to water just by looking at the pictures.

The day after Christmas was a red-letter day in the Zentgraf household. A year ago Emily received a Yoshii stuffed animal for Christmas, and in the past year Emily and Yoshii have been inseparable! They are practically an item, and Emily takes him to activity night at church, at night they have long talks in her room, and if she could she would take Yoshii to school with her (but we have to draw the line somewhere). Yoshii has basically become a regular member of the family, and so according to Emily’s wishes we had to celebrate Yoshii’s birthday! There we were on December 26th, the whole family, gathered around a birthday cake singing Happy Birthday to Yoshii. It was a little weird, but Emily sure did enjoy the joke. :)

This year I was asked to help out with one of the young men’s church basketball teams, and we recently had our Christmas Basketball Tournament. Our team was a definite under-dog! Of the 10 players on our team, only one of them is over 16 years old. Mark is our go-to-player mainly because he is over 5 feet tall and is the only kid who can score with any consistency. The other 9 players on our team are all deacon-age and most are barely 5 feet tall! Since our roster is filled with so many "vertically-challenged players" we have decided on a suitable team name: Mark and the 7 Dwarfs! :) My fellow coach and I didn’t really have very high expectations for our team’s ability to win games, but we entered the tournament with a desire to have fun and help our youth do the same. Amazingly our team, on the back of a 30-point-per-game scoring average by Mark, notched a 2-1 record falling just short of the championship game! It was a very exciting tournament for all involved!

New Years: This year’s New Years Eve Party was a true test of my partying endurance capabilities. Whitney and I decided to join a large group from our Singles Ward that was going to a regional activity in Virginia Beach. In all about 30 of us Richmond-ites, in several vehicles, made the two-hour drive down to the beach where we were certain a night of non-stop dancing, food, games, and flirting with some lovely ladies awaited us. We left Richmond around 6:30, however, my evening got off to an inauspicious start when I quickly discovered that I would be making the two-hour car trip in a truck filled with 6 guys and 0 ladies (a ratio that is definitely more conducive to "bro-mance" rather than some good old fashion romance!). To make matters even "more awesome" I was to be tightly nestled in between two very large single dudes throughout the duration of the trip! :) The ride down to the beach actually turned out to be a lot of fun, and my car, the self-proclaimed "half dirty dozen," had our own pre-party in the truck listening to some bumpin’ music and "pre-gaming" about how we were gonna put some smooth moves on some unsuspecting ladies before the New Year arrived. :)

The New Year’s Party was held in a local church building near the beach, and when we arrived we were greeted with a mile-long table of hot-wings, chicken, and cake, a dance floor for getting your groove thing on, and even carnival games that included a giant Velcro-wall and a very fun bungee-rope contraption. The selection of music left something to be desired, but as the evening progressed it seemed that the DJ’s music standards digressed transforming the YSA activity into more of hot nightclub. Early on during the more lame stages of the activity, the group flirted with the idea of leaving the church to go form our own new year’s party on a sandy beach with a small bonfire to set the mood. However, indecision and a wind-chill factor as low as 18 degrees were the main reasons that this private party never occurred. Inevitably 2009 arrived, and every guy in the building quickly tried his best line on the nearest girl in order to roll in the New Year with a kiss ;)

The caravan of Richmond-ites left the party around 1:30 am for a Mom and Pop Pancake Diner that was right on the oceanfront. One of our number was accidentally left behind at the New Year’s party when people (myself included) decided to switch up the seating arrangements, but he later rejoined us at the diner and we all had a good laugh at his expense. Finally around 3:30 we decided that we had had our fill of the diner’s food, and that the diner employees had had their fill of us. It was time to return back home, and once again I changed cars but this time it was to drive Whitney’s car back home so she could sleep and I could fight back any drunk drivers that might have been on the roads. And so early this morning, around 5:45 am, my New Year’s party marathon came to it’s conclusion as I slipped into my bed, pulled the covers over my face so as to hide the early morning sun from my view, and thought to myself "Happy New Year to All!" and finally fell asleep!