Second verse same as the first

The 24th of July is usually filled with, well, the usual. There's a big parade up in Salt Lake, family gatherings of some type in the evening, and then fireworks at night. However, yesterday was my favorite Pioneer Day to date, thanks to five old British men.

While enjoying the cool weather and "rides" up at Snowbird with my family, I received a text from a cello buddy of mine inviting me to attend the Herman's Hermits concert out at Usana with her and her family. Herman's Hermits? Oh yeah, the guys that sing Henry the 8th or something. Sure, why not.

Last night I was reminded of how much I love live concerts. I'm not sure why I do, but I do. Perhaps it's because I've only really gone to two in my life. At both, my presence brought the average age of the audience down by about 30 years. Just kidding, but seriously, there were a lot of old people rocking out to Kansas, and Hermie's band.

To make a long story short, I'm very grateful for the British invasion. Think of all the good bands that have come over and rocked the American continent harder then we could have done on our own. I mean, you've got The Beatles, The Bee Gees, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Elton John, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Coldplay...the list goes on and on...and of course, Herman's Hermits. I believe our playlists would be much shorter without them.

So yes, that's how my 24th of July holiday night was spent-- blowing my eardrums out for a bunch of hilarious 60 year old men who had killer-sweet accents, and who knew how to rock and roll.

What's worse then a physical? Not much.

Yesterday I went to my pediatrician for a pre-surgery review and some shots. Once again, I came out feeling quite violated. This happens every time I go in to see that woman. She's a nice lady, and probably a good doctor. But I still don't like what she does, and never will. Trips to the doctor, when you are healthy, are one of the worst things you can put yourself through. This is why I hate going:

• The Waiting Room: The only things I like about this part are the tank of tropical fish in the middle of the room, and the occasional magazine of interest lying around. But I could do without the snot-nosed, sickly kids running around like they aren't sick, and the awkwardness of filling out that sheet they give with questions like, "Are you sexually active at the moment?" or "When was your last period?"

• The Nurse before the Doctor: Fortunately, these guys get easier to deal with every time you come in. They are so predictable. All they want is your height, weight, temperture, and blood pressure. It's the same questions every time too. No, I'm not taking, or allergic to any medications, thanks. The main problem I have with these guys is that they tell me what I already know, and they get paid for it! "OK. Looks like you're six foot seven, and weigh three hundred pounds." Gee, guess who could have told you that? Maybe the person you're torturing.

• The Pre-Physical: Not only do you have to answer those stupid questions on the sheet, you get to discuss them with the doctor herself! But again, it's a predictable routine. Yes, I wear my seat belt. No, I'm not feeling sick or ill. No, I'm not sexually active at the moment. No, I don't plan on being soon. Yes, I'm sure. See? Piece of cake. The hardest part is not being sarcastic with your answers. I was very tempted to give her all the wrong answers, just to mess with her mind. Good thing I didn't, or I'd have been there a lot longer. But then...

• The Physical: There aren't many things in this world that make me uncomfortable by just thinking about them, but this is one of them. Yesterday's episode was no exception. Always a scarring moment, always. I really could have told her that nothing was wrong with me. She didn't need to look. Or feel. Ok, we're done.

• Urinating in a cup: This part can't be anything but awkward either. The worst is when you don't have to go, and they make you drink water and wait. As I sat in the bathroom, I was extremely tempted to just take the cup, dunk it into the toilet, and then put it in that little cubby hole and wait for a response. I wonder what they would have done. Would they have been mad? What do you say to that? "Nice try. Now go pee for real this time." I don't know. But it would have lightened my very dark mood. Perhaps next time I shall bring some yellow food coloring with me and give it a shot. Oh, I almost forgot. Afterwards, the nurse told me that my urine looked fine, but that it was very concentrated and I need to drink more water. Again, something I could have told her. Can you see how all of this really isn't necessary?

• Shots: Can you believe these people? After having the nerve to do what they did, they go and stick me. Usually shots and blood drawing doesn't bother me. Usually it doesn't hurt. Usually I can't even feel it. Yesterday was an exception for some reason. The three shots didn't hurt much, but I felt them, and my arms were sore for the rest of the night. Thanks a lot.

The appointment ended with a discussion between my mom and the doctor about my acne problems. It was as if I wasn't even there. Yes, I have zits, thank you. Thanks for noticing. Geez. No wonder I walked out to the car completely cheesed off.

Grade Goons

I promise that I'm not some nerd who calendars in the birthdays of the Beatles. I just remember when they are, and for some reason I seem to blog on those days, though usually not for the sole purpose of acknowledging them. This post wasn't intended to be about Ringo. And it won't be. I'm just going to give him the spotlight for a few seconds, and then I'll get on to what I came here for in the first place. Today, July 7th, is Richard Starkey's birthday. He is 66 years old I believe. To be honest, I'm surprised that he is still alive. He's the oldest of the Beatles, had the most health problems throughout his life, smoked heavily with the rest of them, but he's still around to tell the tale. Pretty nifty. Happy Birthday Ringo.



The real reason I'm here is to say that I'm sick of grade goons. Grade goons are people who are obsessed with getting the best scores in the class, and go around to everyone saying, "Wha'dja get?Wha'dja get?" or "How do you think you did?" to make sure that they're better then everyone else. I know that some people really are just curious, and have no intention of using you to boost their self-esteem. But there are a few that I have to avoid on test days because it gets so annoying.

I used to be one of these goons myself. I really would ask certain people about every assignment and test, just to make sure I did better. I would have thoughts like, "Oh. Well, if I do better then him, that doesn't matter because he's stupid. But if I do better then her, then I must be really smart." Horrible, I know, but I guess I was that insecure. I'm not like that at all anymore. I hate comparing scores with others.

I totally forgot that the grade goons would come around after school was over, because this summer, we get our AP scores back. Curse those stupid things. Everyone says they don't really matter, so why do we act like they do? I don't know. But I haven't enjoyed people going out of their way to make sure they did better then I did. Thank goodness the mailman is late. It's bought me some time and comfort.

Grade goons shouldn't bother me. I know they shouldn't. Why do they then? All I wish to say to them is this: Get a clue. 30 years from now, or heck, even 3 months from now, it won't matter. In fact, it doesn' matter now. So bug off.