Thursday, November 29, 2012

An Open Letter to the Kardashians

Dear Kardashians,

Stop it.


For the love of all that is good and right in the world, I beg you to knock it off. Why, you ask? I'll tell you.

I try to not be a selfish person. Yes, occasionally I sneak into my closet and enjoy a piece of dark chocolate away from the kids. Sometimes I like to hold onto the remote control during prime time. But in general, for the most part, I really try hard to be unselfish.

This is not one of those times.

But I'm asking you this for selfish reasons. You need to stop it, because what's happening out there is killing me. You're creating a whole clueless army of mini Kardashians. And they must be stopped. They're standing in the security lines at the airports of the world, wearing their velour track suits with rhinestone words on the hineys, hands full of glossy, designer handbags that cost more than my rent, tripping over their stiletto heels. But who can blame them? It's probably hard for them to see anything from behind their giraffe-like eyelash extensions.

And then.

And then, after they eventually figure out that they have to unbuckle their high heels before removing them from their feet for the TSA x-ray machine, they pull out what I can only assume is a large rodent small dog from one of the many glossy bags (you're only allowed two, by the way). So then what happens? They hold up the entire security line while TSA agents stand around in their blue shirts trying to figure out what to do. AND THE REST OF US HAVE TO WAIT. We don't want to wait. We don't care about their scrappy little dogs. WE WANT TO GO HOME!

In closing, Kardashians, please. I'm begging you. Turn off the cameras. Turn on the privacy filters. Shop at Target and let the rest of us get on with our lives.

Cindy Stagg

P.S. Don't even try to keep up with me.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

All I Want for Christmas

I want to start out this post by giving a little shout-out to my nephew, Tyler Swan, whose high school football team will be playing for the Utah 5A State Football Championship next week. Go Diggers! (Yes, the students at Jordan High are known as The Beetdiggers, which, I know, sounds like a school Dwight Schrute would attend).

With the NFL in full swing and high school football the big talk in our family these days, I've already decided on what I want for Christmas this year.

Can you guess what it is?

No, it's not season tickets.

And it's not a jersey representing my favorite team.

It's not even a football autographed by my favorite player.

I want...

...and I promise this is good...

a yellow penalty flag!

You've all seen it. Somebody grabs somebody else's face mask and the referee blows the whistle and tosses a yellow penalty flag onto the field. All the players stop and the ref tells them what they did wrong, then penalizes the offending team with loss of yards.

Can you imagine the real-world applications for my very own yellow penalty flag? I mean, how perfect is that? When my kids come in from school and leave a trail of backpacks, shoes, coats, papers, and legos from the door to the kitchen, I can toss my flag and yell, "Penalty! Cluttering! Loss of dessert!"

What about when someone cuts me off in traffic? "Penalty! False start! Loss of 3 car lengths!"

And I'm all about maintaining my personal space. "Penalty! Personal Foul! 10 yards!" 

Oh, I'm getting giddy with anticipation, just thinking about all the uses for my yellow penalty flag. There is no arguing with a yellow penalty flag. You MUST obey the yellow penalty flag.

There is no stopping me with a yellow penalty flag.

I see no flaws in this plan.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Love 'em. Always Have. Always Will.

So on Facebook, I've joined in with the crowd posting daily status updates of things for which I am grateful. I figured today's thing deserved it's very own blog post.

Today, I am thankful for cars. There. I said it. Yes, it's a material thing. But anyone who knows me, knows I love cars. Why?

For starters, I used to work on our cars with my dad. He taught me how to change my own oil and check my lug nuts. We replaced the clutch on his '75 MGB. Once, he even had me stand by with a fire extinguisher while he welded the fuel line.

Ah, memories.

And that's the point. My dad and I built a close relationship because we spent so much time together beneath the hood of a car. He told me stories about his 1964 1/2 Mustang. After a day of grease monkey-ing, he'd take me to 7-11 and buy me a Slurpee and a classic auto trader magazine. Man, I spent hours staring at the pages, picturing myself behind the wheel of a '57 Thunderbird or a '55 Bel Air.

Cars are also what launched my writing career. Every writer will tell you that they were always a writer, and I am no different. For me, cars just happened to be the first thing I ever got PAID to write about. Because of it, I have had some pretty amazing adventures. I've driven a Toyota FJ Cruiser along the San Andreas Fault. I've flown on the Ford corporate jet to their proving grounds and spent a day driving the F-150 all over the desert. I got to ride in a Lexus stock car with a professional race car driver, where 210 miles per hour felt like melted butter. Oh, my heart is racing just thinking about it!

Beyond that, a car is a miraculous thing. The internal combustion engine -- a common thing anymore, but what an idea. Add a turbo charger, modify it here and there, bore this, plane that, and pretty soon, you are the envy of every car lunatic in the world. My favorite car lunatic story is that of Hau-Tai Tang, who, as a young Vietnamese boy, fell in love with a Mustang delivered overseas to the army base near his home. After the war, his family immigrated to the U.S. where he continued his love affair for the car. Mr. Tang grew up and became chief engineer of the 2005 Mustang project.

I mean, how cool is that?

Finally, to me, it's all about what the car represents. It's not status or success; it's freedom. It means I can get behind the wheel, pedal to the medal, and go anywhere I choose -- even if it's just to the grocery store.

Tell me this isn't the sexiest car you've ever seen. 
(And people think I love James Bond for the acting).

One Day...

So yes, today, I am thankful for cars.