Ryan Teeples

This Blog has Moved!

2009-12-12T13:57:00.000-08:00

After about a year of no posts here, I thought I should mention this blog moved. As a result of some work my companies are doing and of the work network I've been building, I thought it best to move my blog to a new URL, and make it interesting to family, friends and business associates.

RyanTeeples.com

Hallie helps with the laundry

2008-11-21T21:15:00.000-08:00

Our wonderful, sweet little girl is so helpful...and sneaky.

I swell with pride for my daughter...

2008-10-29T21:32:00.000-07:00

As soon as she was old enough to get her hands around a ball, my daughter, Hallie has loved to play with them.

Tonight I found her stuck with her head caught between the wall and a box. She was screaming. So I pulled her free, put her down, and she immediately started crying again and went right back to trying to squeeze behind the box. So I looked behind it, and of course, there was a ping pong ball back there.

So I get it for her, hand it to her, and immediately she gives it to me to put in my mouth and blow it back out. We have 20 foot ceilings in our family room, and if I get enough pressure behind it, I can sometimes launch the ping-pong ball to the ceiling. She just laughs and laughs.

Usually, though, she wants to play fetch. She absolutely loves it. She brings me a ball (tennis, basketball, soccerball, it doesn't matter), I throw it down the hall or into the other room, and she runs and gets it, brings it back, and expects you to throw it again.

The other night, I grew to love her at a whole new level when I found her pushing this pair of footballs around in her stroller like a set of precious infant twins (with leather skin).

This was way more heart-warming (and far less painful) than the time she threw a golf ball at the back of my head.

Anyway, suffice it to say I am very proud of my sports-loving tot. If only I could get Lessley to show that much interest in football.

For me, it's what's on the OUTSIDE that counts

2008-10-24T21:23:00.000-07:00

Spend enough time around me and you'll notice something odd: I usually wear my socks inside out.

I know, in terms of societal norms, that's considered wierd. But here me out and you may just try it yourself.

Think about it this way: Take a sock and look at the outside. As long as it's not been worn and dirtied, the outside is soft and most of all, smooth. No exposed seams, no balls of lint.

Now, turn it inside out. What do you see? Lint balls, rough seams, un-even surface and worse: those little strings that get caught between your toes!

So explain to me why we are supposed to put the sensitive skin of our feet into that stuff, when the outside is super smooth and soft!

So I defy conventional fashion and turn my socks inside out from the day they come out of the bag.

And speaking of socks right out of the bag: To me, there's no feeling like putting on a brand-new fresh pair of socks.

And once a pair of socks has been worn about 10 times, in my book it's time to retire it. Once they lose the softness, and get that yellow-brown tinge, it's time to send them to sock heaven and get some of those wonderfully fresh soft cotton socks new out of the bag.

Just remember to turn them inside out before putting them on.

Great Green Gringo Enchiladas

2008-10-01T13:40:00.000-07:00

I love good mexican food, but it's hard to make your own authentic mexican. Many a restaraunt has tried, only to fail. In fact, let me take this moment to bash on a popular local mexican place. To protect the reputation of this establishment, I will not call it by name, but will refer to it as Las Hermanas.

This place is extremely popular, and on a busy weekend can have up to a 347 hour wait just to get a table. While I do enjoy Las Hermanas chips and salsa, the rest of the menu to me is white-bread wanna-be mexican dishes of junk.

In fact, I think all the items on the menu are essentially the same: Unseasoned flavorless meat, tortilla and weakly-flavored sauce. It's beyond me that people love this place.

But alas, I have a confession: I actually took my wife to this place on our first date (and not to Carl's Jr. as Lessley tries to lead people to believe). I admit it, I really like their chips and salsa, but in my experience, the rest of the menu is like styrophome meat and cardboard tortilla.

Anyway, that rant aside, there are lots of un-authentic mexican foods that are pretty good. One of them is my own personal Great Green Gringo Enchiladas. They are super easy to make, and will quickly become a family favorite.

Here's the recipe:

You will need:

Chopped cooked chicken (about 2 breasts)

Mexican Blend Cheese (I use the 1/2 pound pre-shredded bag)

8 tortillas (I recommend thin ones)

Pace Brand Medium Green Taco Sauce (comes in a plastic squeeze bottle)

1 can cream of chicken soup

Preheat the oven to 350.

Put the can of cream of chicken into a saucepan on low heat. Add about a third of the bottle of the green taco sauce to the cream of chicken and blend. Let it heat about 5 mintes so it blends well. If you like spicier, add more taco sauce to taste.

While the sauce is warming, get out a casserole pan and spray it with no-stick spray.

Now, take a tortilla, put some chicken on it, some cheese on it (don't be stingy) and about a tablespoon of sauce. Then roll it up (you can fold the ends or leave them open) and place it in the casserole pan. Do another 7 tortillas.

Once you've got them all lined up in there, pour the remainder of the sauce on top and spread it around. Next, take the remaining cheese and spread it on top evenly. At this point, if you want onions, ollives, green chiles, etc, chop/slice them and put them on top.

Put it in the oven at 350 until the cheese just starts to have little brown spots. I think it takes about 15 minutes.

Enjoy!

About Investing

2008-08-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

A lot of people have asked me about investing lately and I wanted to offer some thoughts everyone might benefit from.

As you may (or may not) know, I founded an investing site called LearningMarkets.com. I've worked on the marketing and product development of investing related products and services for a while now, and over the course of my work, I've learned investing strategy in markets to fairly great depths.

As people learn about my involvement in the markets they start asking me questions like:

"What should I invest in?"
"What is a good stock to buy?"
"Have you been working out? You look great!"

Well, the answers to these questions are not simple to answer. But a knowledge of investing and retirement planning should be a focus for most people. Yet very few have even a basic knowledge of investing.

So instead of telling people what they should do, I usually try to get people to understand these things about investing:

Everyone should have an investment plan
When it comes to stock investing there are three ways to go:

Pay a broker to manage your money (this would include most basic 401(k) or IRAs, mutual funds, etc.),
Manage your own money/investments
Do some of both

3. No matter how you plan to invest, you need to take time to learn how the markets and the economy work, at least at a basic level.

Now, this post may seem fairly self-serving, but I'm asked about it so much, I think people will benefit from it. The three principles above were the foundation and motivation for the LearningMarkets.com site I founded (with help from partners).

The site is 100% free, and there's lots of information in the form of written and video lessons. They can help you learn market and investing basics.

So rather than telling people what to do or how to invest, I encourage them to learn the basics, then decide whether to manage their own investments or not. Investing is like raising children: It's frustrating as often as it is fun, it takes experience to get good, and it's extremely rewarding when you retire after a job well done. Oh, and if you do it right, your investments grow up big just like your kids.

If you do have investing questions, you are certainly free to ask me them. I promise I'll answer even the most basic ones.

My victory over "The Man" Part 2: Conclusion, I win!!!

2008-08-04T13:55:00.000-07:00

Some of you may remember almost a year ago I posted my story about a victory I was winning over a large mobile phone provider.

If you haven't read that article yet, read it at the link below. You won't understand this post until you've read/re-read the first post.

http://ryanteeples.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-victory-over-man.html

The previous story ended with me getting out of my mobile plan contract, and getting a new phone, only to have that phone break, yet again, three months later.

I thought maybe I could avoid the previous drama by sending them my phone and have them see if there was "moisture damage" again. If there was, I would simply cancel my service and get a new provider. If there wasn't, I could get another new phone without charge and then decide what to do about my service long-term.

So I called the Customer Support line, and told them I'd been through this before.

Me: "Can I send you my phone and have you check it for moisture damage before you send me a new one?"

English-as-a-second-language-Customer-Support-Rep: "We cannot be doing it this way, sir."

Me: "So I have to send you the phone, you have to send me a new one, then you can see if there is 'moisture damage' and then you charge me for the new phone if there is, right?.

English-as-a-second-language-Customer-Support-Rep: "Yes. This is how we must be doing this thing, sir."

Suffice it to say, I didn't want to go through this again. So I called the representative from the Dispute Resolution department who had helped me before when I set up the website to fight the power. I explained the situation and used poorly veiled threats like "I don't want to have to do this all over again," and "I thought we were past the problem, but maybe we're not."

Her response was better than I had hoped: "What phone would you like?"

So I got a nice PDA-phone which I use for work and surfing the web. I was pleased, and didn't have to pay anything more.

But things got better from there.

She then informed me the company would like to buy the web domain I had used to set up the original website to solved my original problem (www.thecompany'sname-lawsuit.com). She asked if I was willing to sell it.

Knowing about how much a web domain is worth, I told her I would also be willing to give the website to them in exchange for phone services, which would yield me more in the end.

Their offer was six months free service.

I had Lessley pick out a phone she liked, and I countered with 12 months of free voice and data service, plus a new phone for Lessley.

They jumped on it. She just needed her legal department to do all the paperwork.

I don't think she expected her legal team would show the speed of a quadriplegic turtle. Month after month went by with me getting an email from her saying she was still waiting for the paperwork, while she credited my account to cover service charges for that month.

Finally, after almost a year of having my account credited while waiting on attorneys, she finally had the paperwork. I signed, and my 12 months of free service officially started last month.

So in the end, I'll be getting about 2 years free service from the telephone provider, for the 1 hour and $6 I invested in a website to resolve my issue.

That's a pretty good return on investment, if I do say so myself.

He's definitely mine

2008-07-28T20:58:00.000-07:00

It's said that life is defined by moments. Tonight was one of those moments for me. I realized, that my son is, unequivocally, my son. For better or worse, many of my personality traits are glaringly obviously a part of Eli.

Most nights, Eli wants me to tell him a story before bed. The nightly routine is that I usually get him ready for bed, brush his teeth and tell/read him a story. I either make something up (Gems like Rocky Raccoon, Larry the Lion, Mario the Monkey, etc.) or fall back on some of the favorites like Hansel and Gretel, The Three Little Pigs, or as was the case tonight, The Three Bears.

Usually, he quietly listens to the story and calms down for sleep. Tonight, however, his brain was working overtime during the story. I got to the part where the Bears come home, and Goldilocks is blissfully sleeping, unaware that wild carnivores are below her.

I quoted Papa Bear as saying "Somebody's been eating my soup!" Eli quickly stopped me and asked "How did the bear know someone had been eating his soup? She didn't eat it all, right? Because it was too hot?"

I made something up about the spoon being dirty, and some being spilled on the table, and proceeded on.

Then, I got to the part where Papa Bear says "Somebody's been sitting in my chair!" Once again, Eli stopped me, and wanted to know how Papa Bear could tell someone had been in his chair. I told him the cushions looked a little smashed, so he could tell.

Anyway, as you've likely guessed, he also wanted to know how Papa Bear could tell somebody had been sleeping in his bed. But he answered his own question before I could when he asked if it was "because the covers were messed up."

Thinking I was finally through the questions, he stopped me yet again after Mama Bear noted someone had slept in her bed. I thought he was going to ask me how she knew, but he surprised me when he said "Why does Mama Bear not sleep in bed with Papa Bear?"

Of course, I have no idea. I told him maybe bears were so big they could only find beds that fit one of them.

But this experience illustrates how similar Eli and I are. I'm the same way. I interrupt stories to get minor details too. It drives Lessley nuts. And when I'm reading a book, if I see a word or place I'm not familiar with, I have to look it up or I can't continue reading.

Just last night I started reading those vampire books all the women are crazy about, and I got one page in and had to ask Lessley if Forks, WA was a real place. She thought it was weird that I would even want to know.

So now, I get a taste of my own medicine with my son.

And it's not that he can't see the forest for the trees. He sees the forest, but like me he just has to know what kind of trees are in it.

But there's one more part to this story:

When I tell the story of the Three Bears, I always add the moral: "So Goldilocks learned she shouldn't touch stuff that's not hers because it might break and make people mad."

He gave me cause for concern when he said "But Goldilocks didn't get in trouble because she got out of the house before the bears could catch her."

As I turned off his light
"It occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me."

Pre-Pay Gas

2008-07-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

I've always disliked places that require you pre-pay for gas. You're either wondering why, or you're clicking the "Back" button because I've already lost your interest and you're bailing on this post.

I invite you to stay, because this will be thought-provoking, by which I mean, I will attempt to slant your thinking toward mine and in the process make jokes that will likely only amuse me. So get that cursor away from the back button and read on!

When I go to the gas station (daily) to get gas (not daily), I like to follow a simple routine: Pump my gas right after I pull in, say hi to the employees outside having a smoke break (I know them by name, and they're always having a smoke break), go right in, crinkly my nose at the nasty-smell of the coffee, get a 44 ounce drink (Diet Mountain Dew topped off with Orange Fanta) and pay for the gas, drink and occasional hot dog/donut/Tums all in one single transaction.

The pre-pay stations throw a wrench in all this. If I have to pre-pay at the pump, I end up with two transactions. One for the gas at the pump, and another for the drink and calorie-laden impulse-bought snack.

That's bad because it's 1) annoying 2) allows Lessley (my wife) to see that I bought a drink that is likely not the first of that day and 3) multiple charges at the same place right in a row get flagged as "suspicious activity" by my credit card company, who puts a hold on the card until they can get in touch with me to verify the charges, and if I've left my phone at home, I'm stuck looking like a credit card thief when the card is rejected. And worse: I don't get my drink and hot dog!

I know what you're thinking now: "With those eating and drinking habits, this guy is gonna have triple bypass surgery at 35!"

Indeed! Or maybe you're thinking: "Why doesn't he just go inside, pay for the drink and gas, then come back out and pump. That keeps it all in one transaction."

Good point, smart reader! But not good enough, because...

In the olden days when pre-pay was gaining popularity (1994), it was actually quite a racket for the stations. Because you couldn't pay at the pump with a card way back then, you had to go all the way in, lay down your $10 (which is all it cost to fill up back then), walk back out and pump. You also had to hear "rad" a lot. But that's another story.

The real story is what happened after you got back to the pump. You'd take the nozzle off the pump, lift the metal lever for the octane you wanted put it in, and start pumping. You'd probably also insert the nozzle into the hole at some point in there (and stop giggling, you sicko).

Everything was fine until you got to $9.32. Because when that number rolled over on the little flapping numbers that indicated how much you'd pumped, life suddenly skidded into slow-motion.

You know what I'm talking about, right? The last 50 cents would take like 45 minutes to pump, THEN, the last 10 cents set you back about 2 hours. You'd sit there cursing at the numbers, shaking the pump, willing it to go faster because you had to make it home before curfew. The only thing with a worse punishment than being home late for curfew was leaving the car on empty when your Dad had to drive it the next morning to a 6:30 am Sunday church meeting.

Remember when the movie "The Matrix" first came out and there were all the previews of time slowing way down while Keaneu Reeves (sissy hack) dodged bullets in slow motion? When I saw those the first time, I had immediate flash-backs to the molasses-slow pre-pay pumps with the flapping black and white numbers.

So what did you do in that situation? You said "screw the last 22 cents, I've gotta get home!" So you left the gas station with 22 cents worth of gas you paid for but didn't pump. Doesn't seem like much, but it adds up fast...probably.

The point is, I can never make it through the grueling, agonizing marathon of waiting for the last nickel to pump. I'm just too impatient. So I try to frequent places that don't require pre-pay -- and have great hot dogs. So put that in your tank and pump it.

Eli Retires!

2008-06-28T16:50:00.000-07:00

I'd like to offer my congratulations to Eli Teeples, my oldest son, who has retired and is moving to Florida. He hasn't formally announced the move, but I found him in this outfit today, and retirement to Florida is the only explanation.

I also overheard a conversation between Eli and Lessley, wherein Eli announced he was "never going to work" and when asked where he would get his money he answered he would "use dad's."

These two clues helped me learn the truth, that at the ripe old age of 3, Eli Teeples is retiring.

I offer my congratulations with a summary of his life and career below:

Eli Teeples, born in 2004, is retiring after three years of faithful service as the world's oldest three-year-old.

In this time he developed amazing proficiency in asking complicated and in-depth questions, that while sometimes amusing, usually became cumbersome to his bosses (parents) and usually held little importance to his own existence. He is widely known for his trademark questions "Where will we park when we get there?" and "Are the batteries maybe dead?"

He also showed great skill in fake cell phone conversations during his career. He enjoyed making and taking these phony calls to and from cousins, grandparents and the occasional girlfriend. A female superior (his mom) recounts this incident that occurred while weeding the garden:

We had been out there for about 15 minutes, when all of a sudden, he said "Oh, I've got a call. He stood up, pulled a toy cell phone out of his pocket (which I didn't know was even there) and proceeded to "talk" to his cousin Katie, while pacing around the same way I do when I'm on the phone. He would ask: "What are you doing?" then pause while he "listened" to the answer, and then would reply "That sounds like fun!" The faux conversation ended when he told the phone "I have to go now. I'm helping my Mom with the weeds."

The women around him will remember with fondness his propensity to notice things any husband would surely miss. Constantly complimenting people on their shirts, pants, shoes, weight and even new hairstyles, his was an eye for fashion and compliments none could match. He had the ability to spot new fingernails on his mother in less time than it took Mom to get settled in after coming home from the salon.

His love of Florida (sometimes pronounced Floor-Did-Uh), came early, when at just under one-year-old, he visited Orlando. By the time he was 3 he had been there three times. He is excited to find a nice single-floor duplex in a planned retirement community. His love of puzzles and watercolor will surely serve his new lifestyle well. We're confident he'll be second-guessing the moves of the Home-owner's Association, just like he already second-guesses his parents.

Easy as Chicken Pot Pie

2008-05-31T16:50:00.000-07:00

I have a new favorite sort-of-homemade meal. It's a super easy chicken pot pie. And if you're really lazy, you can even make it a beef pot pie and it can be made in about 20 minutes with no work at all.

Here are the recipes for both:

Ryan's super-easy-awesome Chicken pot pie

Ingredients:

1 Chicken breast
5-6 medium sized potatoes
1 box of Pillsbury already made Pie Crusts (The box has two rolled pie crust doughs, and you'll need them both. Don't get the generics. The Pillsbury ones are way better.)
2-2.5 cups of frozen vegetables (I use broccoli and a mix of carrots, corn, green beans, and peas, just the cheap stuff in the bags of the freezer section).
1 can of cream of chicken soup
1/2 cup milk
Seasonings of choice

Directions

Slice and quarter potatoes into small chunks. Put them in a pot and boil until just barely soft.
While they're boiling, unroll one of the pie crusts into the bottom of a pie pan/dish, and let the excess come up the sides of the dish. Put in the oven and bake at the appropriate temperature for about 8 minutes.
Boil the vegetables in a separate pot for about 5 minutes, or until just soft.
Mix the vegetables, potatoes (both drained), cream of chicken soup, 1/2 cup milk, in a pot and bring to a slow boil.
Add your own seasoning to taste in the soup mix. I use garlic salt, salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme. I sometimes use a half sauted onion.
Once the pie crust has baked for 8 minutes, pour the potatoes, soup, veggies mix into the pie crust.
Roll the the other pie crust over the top and bake for the full 11-12 minutes instructed on the pie crust box.
Eat.

If you want to make a meal very easily, you can just buy a can or two of beef stew, put it in the crust, and cook it.

Allow me to ruin your plans

2008-05-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

Allow me to ruin your day by instilling in you fear and torment, and make you fearful of making a phone call, taking a bath, going to the park, shopping, doing laundry and going on vacation.

How you ask? With something you can't see, feel, hear, taste or smell!

I'm not one of those people who's too concerned about germs and touching things. I really should be, because my immune system is as wimpy as Screech from Saved by the Bell, and I get sick with every illness that floats around.

Bacteria enter my body and say "Man, this place is great! It's easy to get to, there's no annoying antibody neighbors around and there's a ready food supply! The view isn't much, but a little mucus on the walls and this can be home!"

Oddly enough, I wash my hands constantly, but that's because I hate them being sticky, sweaty or dusty. Germs - who cares! But a little dust on the fingers and I'm washing like I'm OCD.

But I read an article the other day that made me a little more thoughtful of the germ world. The article is called "The Germiest Places in America" and it's from Health Magazine in November. It lists the 12 places that have the most germs and potential for bad stuff to be transmitted. Number 1 is a Wal-Mart bathroom in Mississippi. Just kidding.

http://www.health.com/health/slideshow/0,26086,1673222,00.html

Here's the list, in reverse order:

12. The hotel-room remote control
11. Your office phone
10. Your bathtub
9. Mats and machines at health clubs
8. Playgrounds
7. Your handbag
6. ATM buttons
5. Shopping cart handles
4. Public drinking fountains
3. A load of wet laundry
2. Airplane bathrooms
1. Your kitchen sink

Now you have an excuse why you: Always eat out, are afraid to fly, wear dirty clothes, are dehydrated, don't have anything at home to eat, never have cash, always lose your wallet and keys, never take the kids out, don't go to the gym, don't bath often enough, never return calls and don't know what's going on in the world. Wasn't that easy!

I'm convinced the Soda Fountain at the Maverick in Pleasant Grove, Utah was meant to be on the list, but it was left off when the Pepsi people paid off the magazine.

So anyway, enjoy the rest of your day! Hope you weren't planning to leave the house! Wait, even that's a death trap!

Top Ten signs your suburb is still a small town

2008-05-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

10. You get stuck driving behind a John Deere going 5 MPH, and it seems perfectly normal

9. The town "Libary" just got it's first "computin' machines."

8. If the town's cow population were allowed to vote, the mayor would have udders.

7. Homelessness isn't a problem, but Road Apples are.

6. When the rodeo is in town, Main Street closes down for three days.

5. Feed and Tack stores outnumber banks and credit unions 4 to 1.

4. "Young City Slickers" are commonly blamed for all the town's problems over breakfast at the local diner.

3. Alfalfa prices are way more important than stock prices.

2. Local gas stations double as the town's fine dining establishments.

1. It's named after a prophet

Generation Gaps

2008-04-29T21:27:00.000-07:00

First of all, this post is NOT about the store in the mall (although they have broken The GAP stores up into generations these days with GAP, Baby GAP, Infant GAP, Premature Baby GAP, GAP Body, GAP Light and Senior Gap).

But there's another gap.

I'm fascinated by demographics. It's an important part of my career (marketing), and I love to learn about the attributes that make up the characteristics of groups. And nothing is more fascinating right now than the demographics of generations (OK, there are probably thousands of things more interesting, but this is still pretty good).

That may sound complicated and boring, but I promise -- it is. Actually, it's pretty simple and very applicable. First of all, there are basically five living generations in the United States (and mercifully, one of them is NOT Star Trek-The Next Generation. I just don't get the appeal):

Pre-WW II:
Anyone born before 1945 falls into this class. Today, this group is 68 years old plus, and represents approximately 12% of the population. This group is affectionately referred to as "blue-hairs," "cotton-heads," "geezers," and "Florida." They enjoy saying things like "In my day, we didn't have computers, we had to count on our fingers. We didn't even get fingers until I was in the third grade." Have you ever asked yourself who in the world watches those re-runs of the Lawrence Welk Show on PBS? This generation does.

My Teeples Grandparents, of the Pre WWII Generation

Baby Boomers 1945 - 1964:
This 25% of the population is my parents, and likely your parents. It's the generation from the 60s who wanted free love, cheap drugs, and rallied against "The man." Now, they are "The Man," and are fighting hard to keep their kids away from free love and drugs. This is the generation that was born, if not before TVs, certainly before cable. They said things like "swell," and later, "groovy," and "keep on truckin'.'" I'm pretty sure there's still nobody who really knows what that means. This group is expected to cause economic disaster by retiring and draining the Social Security coffers (more likely, they won't be able to retire and will end up working until the day they die because of poor saving and strong spending habits, which they taught well to the next generation, Gen X.)

My Parents, World-class Baby Boomers

Generation X 1965 - 1979:
This generation, also known as "The Breakfast Club" generation, makes up 18% of the present population. It's much smaller than the generations before and after it, owing to the fact that while the Baby Boomers were into "free love," the rampant drug use made them seemingly unable to produce offspring at the same pace as their parents. This group is to blame for that horrible decade we affectionately call "The '80s."As teenagers, this group loved to have this stuff called "angst." I thought it was an energy drink, but as it turns out, it's a tendency to be discouraged and disconcerted with the world around them, despite a quality of living and wealth unseen by any other generation. This led to many unfortunate fads such as rampant piercings, "Charles in Charge," and grunge music. Today, these guys are now reaching their 30s, or *gasp* 40s. They now find themselves leaders in business and community, and supporting a rapidly growing tattoo-removal industry.

I technically fall into the very tail end of this generation, but I tend to act more like the next generation: The Millenials.

Here are some pictures of me as I evolved through my generation:

At age 4

At age 16

At age 22, at the end of my mission

On my wedding day, with my amazing bride, Lessley.

Generation Y (Millenials) 1980 - 1999:
25% of the population is from this generation, which is mostly still very young. They call this group the Baby Boomers Part 2, because of its large size. This group was born with an innate ability to move their thumbs at a rapid pace over a phone keypad to send "text messages," which allow Millenials to communicate in a mode and language which cannot be understood by their Baby Boomer parents. The Internet is part of Gen Ys DNA.

So those are the generations. And there is always talk of the "Generation Gap." A generation gap refers to an older generation's inability to understand a younger generation (and vice versa), as a result of the worlds they grew up in being so different. Parents say things about "kids these days," while their children say Mom and Dad "don't get it."

So what does this have to do with anything? Probably nothing. But it got me thinking whether the Generation Gap is wider than it's ever been.

Think about it like this: In the dark ages, what differences existed from one generation to the next? You pretty much woke up, worked in the field for your Lord, hoped you didn't get beat, flogged or decapitated, and went to bed. That was pretty much all that went on for almost 1,000 years, until people started the Renaissance, and then get on boats for three month journeys to the New World (I wonder why?).

Then technology was invented, and things were developed that changed the world. At first the advancements were slow, and only changed the generations moderately. Then, in the 1900s, things started changing rapidly. The car changed the world. The television changed the world. The Internet changed the world. Each generation was very different from the one previous, because these technological advancements came around and altered the environment people were brought up in.

So has technology changed the world so rapidly in the last 20 years that Gen X and Gen Y are WAY more different from their parents (the Baby Boomers) than the Baby Boomers were from theirs?

Is it hard to relate to your grandparents? How about your parents? I truly believe the Generation Gap is wider than ever. There are things I do every day that I can't even begin to explain to my parents. I can't even explain to my Grandparents what I really do for a living, because it's so entrenched in technology they don't have any knowledge of.

But, can we say that our parents or grandparents "don't know what it's like for us." In many ways, the answer is a solid "yes." But in other ways, it's a major "no. "

Our elders have had children. They know what children are like as they develop. We may have information at our fingertips that give us parenting data faster than the speed of light, but our grandparents can tell us what it's like to have the joy of watching a child walk for the first time. Our parents can tell us what it's like to have the pain of losing a child.

The generations that preceded us have been dealing with people, religion, family and life for much longer than Gen X and Gen Y. While the details have changed dramatically, and may create a gap between us, the Big Picture items remain the same: Family, religion, work and joy. And our parent's and grandparent's generations DO "know what it's like for us" on those items.

While it may be frustrating trying to get generations to relate, there are certain aspects of human life that simply don't change from generation to generation, and we can't forget that despite our access to books, websites and information, sometimes our parents still know best.

Just don't ask them how to put an attachment in an email.

Ryan's Alfredo

2008-04-25T20:05:00.000-07:00

OK. Lessley's post seems to have created some interest in my Alfredo Recipe. So for those of you who love three of the most fattening substances on earth combined into a single delicious meal, here you go:

In a saucepan, melt the following:
- 1 package of cream cheese
- 1 cube of butter
- 1 cup milk
- 1 cup of Italian Blend Cheese (it's the pre-shredded stuff that comes in a bag at the grocery store)

Add garlic salt to taste. Pour it on your favorite pasta. I put boiled broccoli and grilled chicken chunks on top.

For bread sticks, here's my trick. You buy a Pillsbury French loaf that comes in the pop-open cans. You can actually unroll the loaf into a sheet of dough. I cut it into strips with a pizza cutter, then roll up each strip into a bread stick.

Then, I melt a pat of butter, and brush some on each bread stick. I use Parmesan Blend seasoning made by McCormick, and sprinkle some on each bread stick.

You cook it in the oven as directed, but it usually takes less time, so you watch for them to brown.

So that's it. This really is one of those super simple recipes that tastes good enough to be served in a fine restaurant. Enjoy!

100 things to bore you

2008-04-11T22:05:00.000-07:00

I love to design houses. Some have been built (two of them that we've lived in). Email me if you want one designed :)
I play the guitar, but not often enough.
I am a music snob. (I'm picky about what I like, and I think there's a lot of stuff that's just no good)
I love lists
I love maps
I hate wind
I think the good ol' days weren't as good as people remember
I'm addicted to Diet Sodas. My favorite is Diet Mountain Dew, which I mix with a little bit of Fruit punch, Orange soda, Grape, Cherry, etc. It's the ultimate mixer-base.
I read a new book every two weeks or so. I would guess I'm coming up on 500 books read in my life. I love all kinds of books, but I seem to gravitate to off-beat fiction.
I've built many websites (pfxglobal.com, getmemarketing.com, relevantinc.com, teeplescustom.com)
When I was in the Missionary Training Center, it was full, so my group lived on BYU campus, in the dorms next to where I was a Sports Camp Counselor the week before. My friends were still all Camp Counselors, and I saw them every day I was in the MTC.
I think Saturday Night Live is almost always stupid and un-funny
I love the TV Show Psych (Thanks Danielle and Steve for introducing me)
I love to cook. I do all the cooking in our house (which is fortunate because my wife hates it. My specialties include burritos, calzones and Olive Garden Zupa Toscana.) I love using the slow-cooker (crock-pot)
I can build things. My dad is a builder, and I worked for him when I was a kid, so I learned to do framing, trim work, electrical, and other stuff.
I have a tendency to not finish some of the things I start building.
I speak ebonics. Seriously.
I dated 3 Jennifers and 3 Stephanies in my life.
I can sum up the 1980s in one word: Regrettable.
I love classic rock music. I can usually name song an artist for everything that comes on classic rock radio stations.
I love watching football.
I love watching and playing basketball.
I get REALLY into football and basketball games when my teams are playing (BYU and the Jazz). My family is always telling me to calm down.
On our third date, I played the guitar for Lessley. She melted on "Grow Old With You," the Adam Sandler song from The Wedding Singer.
I think it's insane to require your clothes have a brand name or be designer. (I worked with lots of people from New York who were brand-conscious, and one woman once told me her husband had the same Armani suit as me. Suffice it to say, mine wasn't Armani. It was from the clearance rack at Target. It was another high-quality Italian brand: Merona :)
I'm often accused of using "big words"
I'm a Nazi about personal finance. Lessley hates it when I do the bills, because she feels like I'm scrutinizing her every purchase. I'm not, I just have to categorize all our purchases.
I have a dream to attend every single BYU football away game for the rest of my life.
I think it's a crime that 3 times more women die from Breast Cancer in the US each year (reference) than men and women with AIDS (40,000+ for breast cancer reference vs. 15,000+ for AIDS reference), but in the U.S. we give 320 TIMES more federal funding dollars for AIDS victims and research (reference) than we do for breast cancer victims and research (reference). It gets even worse. In 2007, there were 553,000 deaths (reference) from all types of cancer in the US, or almost 40 times more than AIDS. Federal spending on ALL types of cancer research: just under $5 billion. That means we spend 4 times more money on a preventable disease, than we do a disease that kills 40 times more innocent people. Sorry for the rant, but as you can tell, I'm very passionate about it, as it's a complete and sickening injustice. If I ever make my millions, my biggest philanthropic effort will be to advocate and lobby money away from AIDS funding to Cancer funding until they are equal, by the ratio of people they kill in the US.
A large portion of my brain-power is devoted to remembering lines from the Simpsons and Seinfeld.
I love to golf.
I played volleyball and soccer in high school.
I'm an entrepreneur to the core. I've done the following things in my life to make money:

Paper Route (age 12 - 15)
Reselling 25 cent bags of Doritos for 50 cents (Age 13. The school charged 65 cents. Even at that age I knew that was a really bad price from a marketing standpoint. I made a killing until we (my friend Ryan and I) got called to the office and shut down by the anti-free-market commies at Orcutt Jr. High)
Selling sodas from a wagon-cooler during parades (age 13)
Selling day-old donuts and hot cocoa one summer to commuters (age 13)
Construction worker (14-20)
Freelance Sportswriter for local paper (age 16-18)
Freelance Graphic designer (age 16-28)
Resume writer (age 19-23)
Term-paper writer (age 16-20). I'm not proud of it. But it was good money then.
BYU Summer Sports Camp Counselor (age 17-22)
Pizza reseller (age 17-22)
Newspaper page and ad designer (age 21)
Thrift-store tie reseller (age 21, on my mission)
Plasma donor (age 20-22)
Short-term money loan man (on my mission. Loaned money to elders who spent all their allowance money before the end of the month)
Shaved Ice Dude (ongoing)
Marketing, freelance and as an employee (age 22-27)
Marketing Executive in a public company (age 27-28)
Stock/options/currency market investor (ager 26-29)
Freelance web design (age 28-29)
Freelance Event Planner (age 28-29)
Part-owner of marketing company (age 28-29)
Part-owner of online education publishing company (age 28-29)
Author of investing/economics articles (age 29)

I didn't buy any textbooks in college after my freshman year. Whenever I needed info from the book, I went to the library and borrowed it. Usually I just read the chapter summaries and then took the tests. Most classes I would go to the professor the first day of class and ask them if they would allow me to just take the final and get that grade for the class.
I believe rap music is a tool of the devil. Seriously.
I am baffled as to why pro baseball appeals to people
I love Jack in the Box tacos
I love to eat.
I fell in love with Italy when we were there a year or so ago.
When I was a kid, I had a crush on Melissa Joan Hart, from "Clarissa Explains it All"
I like Japanese cars
I consider myself a googling genius.
I was born in very rural Wyoming and lived there until I was 8 (Glenrock is the town).
I love the mountains, and alpine forests. My only real desired extravagance in life is a cabin in the mountains near a lake.
I think every high school student in America should have to watch Saving Private Ryan, edited only to dub out foul language. It would help everyone realize war is not glamorous, but it is an unavoidable part of human nature, and the terror, pain and sacrifice suffered by those who fight for us (and all of Europe in the case of WWII), cannot be repaid, and should never, ever be trivialized.
I don't like horror movies.
I love board games. I'm pretty good at most.
I'm usually squeamish about blood and gore, but I watched the cesarean birth of both my kids and wasn't at all phased. It was fascinating.
I'm scared to death for the day my daughter becomes a teenager.
I love to read about history.
I did most of my growing up in Santa Maria, California. The only thing I miss is the weather.
I'm afraid of swamps and jungles
I am a proud cheapskate.
I'm on my second year of gardening, and I love it.
I was going to Business School at Harvard, and my company was paying for it. But I quit my job and had to give up the scholarship. I'm kinda glad. I don't like school.
I proposed to Lessley through song.
Lessley and I are avid users of the Starving Student Card
When I was in college, another Ryan Teeples moved into the apartment across the hall from me. Over the years we have received mail and email for each other.
In May I will be a Licensed Commodities and Futures Trader, sanctioned by the National Futures Association.
My experience has shown that most college graduates without any work experience (even MBAs) are ill-prepared to face real business situations, and I rarely found any qualified enough to hire even into entry level positions.
I enjoy boating and wakeboarding
My dream job is to be a part-time lawn-mower at a golf course. When I get to the point I can take that job, it will mean I have already made myself financially secure, and I can golf every day.
I really, really don't like mosquitos.
I really, really love good chips and salsa
There are so many things to worry about in this world, that I believe in order to achieve bliss (or true happiness), you must allow yourself (or force yourself) to be ignorant to some things.
I'm constantly looking up things on wikipedia.com. Whenever I hear a reference to something I don't know, I look it up right away. If I ever wonder about why something is the way it is, or who someone was, or wonder what a word means, I always have to look it up. I have an insatiable curiosity that way.
I'm a good speed-reader.
My best friend growing up was/is also named Ryan.
Ryan and I have pulled more pranks than I care to remember. From framing the seminary president for theft, to making the Relief Society snowman anatomically correct, we've pulled doozies across the board.
I once got to stay in the Presidential Suite at a 5 star hotel. It was pretty sweet (Ha! Get it?)
My mom says I taught myself to read when I was 4.
When I was a kid, I got really sick from allergies. I got some shots and got better, but blinking a lot and sniffling a lot didn't do me any favors on the elementary school playground.
Lessley had to dump me and go out on a date with an old boyfriend before she could consider marrying me.
When I was 5, my brother ran over me with my grandmas car. He was 2.
I always have an inferiority complex at church when I see how truly devoted some people are in comparison to me.
I love to teach.
I love to write.
I really wish I had served a foreign speaking mission. When I was preparing, I wanted to stay in the states really bad. Now, I wish I had learned a language. If I could do it all over again, I would hope for Mandarin or Cantonese-speaking.
I think anyone who complains about the plight of the poor and lack of government help for people in poverty, then spends $75 on a tee-shirt, or $250,000 on a car, or $5 million on a house, is the worst kind of hypocrite (I just described most Hollywood celebrities).
Lessley almost dumped me while we were dating because late one night I asked her what her biggest fear was, then proceeded to fall asleep during her answer.
I love sausage. One of my favorite foods is called "dirty rice," and it's ground sausage (preferably hot and spicy) mixed with rice.
I support the death penalty for repeat rapists and child molesters (or castration at the very least)
I hate traffic. My commute now is awesome (bedroom, to bathroom, to home-office).
My family is loud. We all talk loud and often.
When I was a kid, barbequed ribs were my favorite food.
About two years ago I was almost in size 40 pants. Lessley said she would stop buying me clothes if I got to 40, so I slimmed down. This month I was a 34 again, for the first time since before my mission. My secret to weight-loss: Don't eat everything in site, and exercise.
I love being in the water, or playing in water. Something about it is soothing and mesmerizing to me.
I hate my hands being sticky, dusty or dirty.
I have a terrible habit (well many, actually, but this one is annoying): I chew my cuticles. Sometimes to the point of bleeding. Especially during BYU games. It's a nervous habit.
I rarely get butterflies in my stomach. I'm don't get that kind of nervous often.
On my mission, I used to write and record spoof songs about missionary life. Last I hear, some 8 years later, copies of copies of copies of my tape were still floating around my mission.
I love Crystal Light. I mix apple and peach for my favorite flavor.
I'm not big on treats like cookies and candy and cake. I would rather eat beef jerky than any of those things. I love trail mix too (but I pick out the M&Ms).
I can't imagine anyone developing a better pizza than Papa John's.
I think one of the last truly great bargains of this lifetime is the $1.50 Polish Dog and Drink at Costco.
I guess I'm too simple to understand the appeal of New York City.
My mom was on the Price is Right when I was 3, and she gave Bob Barker a little toy cap-gun and told him it was from me. She won a recliner and a hot tub.
The first time I remember Lessley coming to one of my basketball games, I played one of the best games of my life. I scored 30+ points and I don't think I missed more than 3-4 shots. After the game, I kept waiting for her to congratulate me, and when she never did, I asked her how she liked the game and she said "it was good." Turned out she hadn't watched any of my shooting display, instead she had chatted with friends.
Most people think I'm funny. Lessley doesn't believe people think I'm funny.
Jesus loves me.

Calvin and Hobbes live here: An Interview with Eli

2008-04-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

.
Note: Be sure to watch the video interview with Eli at the end. It's pretty funny. It contains an explanation and demonstration of his "fuzzies."

Remember Calvin and Hobbes? It was a very popular comic strip in the late 80s and 90s, which featured the shenanigans of a boy named Calvin, and his stuffed tiger, Hobbes. Hobbes was alive to Calvin, and the pair spent every waking moment together. Calvin was wise, well beyond his years, and in many cases, too smart for his own good.

Often he was found philosophizing about the world around him (he's named after the philosopher John Calvin), and his intellect and poignancy leave him poorly adjusted to the childhood world around him, and ostracized by his peers.

In 2004, my son, Eli Teeples was born. In February of 2007 Eli met his own Hobbes (Tiger), and ever since, they've been inseparable. While we don't allow Tiger to tag along on trips to the store, dinner, our out to run errands, Eli always knows where he is, and carries him all around the house all day. Sometimes he'll even ask us to watch Tiger while he runs to the bathroom.

We (Lessley and I, his parents), on the other hand, use Tiger for more sinister and selfish purposes: As a tool for discipline. Nothing gets Eli's attention faster than, "Do I have to take away your tiger?" When he does get Tiger taken away as punishment, he wails, "But he's my best friend!"

Eli is even a little like Calvin. He's smart for his age, and maybe too grown up. He'd rather sit and listen to adults chat than play with kids his age on the playground. He's an eavesdropper extraordinaire (gets it from his Mom), and he never forgets ANYTHING. Plus, at 2 he had already begun a mastery of the art of manipulation, and a love of technicalities.

The other day we were reading a book about butterflies, which explained they eat pollen, which gives them sugar for energy. He asked if he needed energy. When I said yes, he wanted to know why, then, it was bad for him to eat too much sugar. I had to explain that his body converts his food into sugar inside his body, so he didn't need any more from candy. He understood, so he accepted that.

Recently, I downloaded an album of kid songs called "The Big Red Barn" to my MP3 player for him, and when we'd get in the car, he'd ask if we could listen to the "Big Red Barn CD." He realized quickly we didn't put in a CD for it, and wanted to know how we got the music to play without putting a CD into the player. I told him it was on my MP3 player and explained a little how that worked. Today, I read him a book, coincidentally called "The Big Red Barn," and I said "It's just like your CD, huh?" He immediately said, very matter-of-factly, "It's not a CD, it's just on your MP3 player."

Anyway, we have to watch what we say very carefully, because he'll call us on it. Or he'll tell on us if we do something wrong while the other spouse is away. And he will never forget anything. I worry about some of my qualities he got, and I have to learn to be patient with him. But I love him so much.

All that said, he's still a kid, and says and does some hilarious things. Here's a video interview, on the subject of "Tiger." I plan to do regular Interviews with Eli.

Jock or Nerd?

2008-03-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

Pretend you're in high-school and play along with this hypothetical:

Teenage boy 1: "Hey, man. Are you new at this school?"

New kid in school: "Yeah, I just moved in from Oklahoma. I had a girlfriend back there. She's hot."

Teenage boy 1: "Sure. So I see you like to wear a long-sleeve shirt under a short-sleeve short. That's cool. But I can't tell if you're a Jock, or a Nerd?"

New kid in school: "Uh...neither. What are you?"

Teenage boy 1: "I'm totally a jock. But what do you mean 'neither?' You have to be one or the other."

New kid in school: "Why?"

Teenage boy 1: "Cuz that's the way it is in this school, we have a two-subculture system."

New kid in school: "But I like sports, and I'm also interested in reading and getting good grades."

Teenage boy 1: "Dude, that's just messed up. Suit yourself, but neither the Jocks nor Nerds will like you. Good luck with that. "

Have you ever encountered a situation like this in your life? Seems a little absurd, eh? Well, I'm pretty confident everyone out there has been asked this:

"Are you a Republican or Democrat?"

What's your answer?

You have one, right?

Most Americans have aligned themselves with one party or the other. Why? Because our democracy has a two party system.

My answer the last few years has been "neither," and the response to that answer has been interesting. Sadly, most people give a reaction like there's something wrong with me. They say "what are you then?" like there can't possibly be anything else. Unfortunately, I don't have a simple answer or label to that last question.

I love history, and I'm gonna talk a little about it now. If you don't like it, I'll warn you that you're probably gonna be bored for 5-6 paragraphs. However, if you've ever wondered how the Republican or Democratic parties came to be, you might like it.

The founding fathers almost unanimously opposed a two-party system, and preventing political parties from becoming part of the US political system was a major topic of discussion during the drafting of the Constitution. In fact, George Washington did not belong to any political party.

Parties in the US came about when proponents of a strong central government (the Federalists) banded together during Washington's presidency (he served for 8 years).

This helped them quickly gain strength, and in order to compete, those opposing Federalist viewpoints were forced to create a party as well. Thomas Jefferson hated political parties, but felt there was no other way to run against the Federalist candidates. So they created the Democratic-Republican party.

The Federalists quickly lost their appeal and died out, and eventually the Democratic-Republican party also split. One side became the Democrats, who supported a very small central government (which is funny considering their platform advocates bigger government today), and the other side became the Whigs.

The history lesson is almost over, I promise. The Whigs broke up (sounds like a band), and the Republican Party developed as its replacement, as a party opposed to slavery, while the Democrats mostly supported it.

Later, Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt made the democratic party "progressive," and it became the party we know today that supports heavier taxation, regulation of business, government creation of social programs, environmental regulation, and pacifism.

The Republican party evolved at the same time and was the "party of business," for a while and became the party we know today that says they support lower taxes (but rarely backs it up), more free business and economics, more military buildup, conservative social views and harder stances on crime and terrorism.

So that's how the two parties came about, and obviously, they've evolved over the years, and sometimes seemingly changed places. Hopefully they will continue to evolve, because they both need a lot of work.

Anyway, the founding fathers and early Democratic-Republican party didn't like a two party system, or parties at all, and wanted a small central government in Washington. They were very concerned that parties would allow government to get too big and start putting its nose into places it didn't belong. Ironically, in the end, they actually started the two party system, and in fact, government did balloon and does have it's nose in places it doesn't belong. Sometimes you hate to be right.

Which is the basis of my political neutrality. I don't like the fact that we've drawn a line in the sand with the two party system and put nearly every American into one of them. Considering there are thousands of issues, it's rare that any two people would every completely agree on all of them, let alone an entire political party that includes over 100 million people. Yet, you call yourself a Republican or a Democrat, and you'll immediately be lumped together with 99,999,999 others. .

And for the most part, I don't like either party's platform, because they both call for government to fix problems, and my opinion is that government is the problem, not the solution.

I support economic freedom, religious freedom, and the freedoms outlined in the constitution, and I think anything not in those categories should be eliminated from the federal government altogether.

Today, you can call me a Christian, a Capitalist, or a Cougar, but you can't call me a Democrat or Republican.

And I don't mind the odd stares. And for the record, I'm a Jock and a Nerd.

What do I do?

2008-03-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

I am frequently asked what I do for a living. At times in my life, it's been easier to explain than other times. Right now it's kinda tough.

You may be asking yourself: "Why would I care what you do for work?" The truth of the matter is, I'm writing this post for my wife, Lessley. You see, people have been asking her what I do for six years now, and to this day, she still complains that she can't answer it well. The truth is, I am a male exotic dancer, and she is either 1.) embarrassed by it, or 2.) afraid people will find out and always want me to take my shirt off. My stage name is Rock Solid, and the ladies can't get enough of me.

Seriously though, Lessley does struggle explaining my bread-winning works, and when I told her my idea for this post, she loved it. Now she can just refer people to the blog.

So here's what I do. It's kind of a chronological order summary.

My degree (Bachelors, B- average, night-school, UVSC, tested out of a lot of classes) is in Marketing. But I went to school at night, and worked full time in marketing/advertising since the day I got home from my mission.

It all started when I was a journalist at a local newspaper, while I was still in High School in 1996. Bill Clinton occupied the White House, Jerry Seinfeld ruled Thursday nights, and the Macarena gave us all a reason to slit our wrists.

And I was covering local sports, and was paid by the column inch. After a while, I started designing news pages, and quickly ventured into designing advertisements for the paper's advertisers. I became expert in graphic design, as well as writing. Before long, I started offering the advertisers advice on ideas and promotions for the ads, designing them logos and brochures, thus marking my foray into marketing. These nut-case companies were taking marketing advice from an 18 year old kid with no formal training. Little did I know, I was WAAAAYYY undercharging them compared to what an agency would charge for similar work and advice.

Then I went on a mission, and one day after returning, I was offered a job at a medical and dental device/software company as a Marketing Specialist. I managed all the marketing efforts for a product line, and I became proficient in developing direct mail campaigns, magazine ad campaigns, press releases, product release strategies, and many other types of simple marketing. I also stayed close to graphic design and copy-writing, as something my creative side has always loved. I also learned why Dilbert is incredibly funny, and I developed a chemical dependence on Diet Mountain Dew.

After that, I was recruited by a marketing agency, where I broadened my understanding of marketing and advertising in multiple industries and businesses, as well as made lots of great contacts with very sharp marketing minds. Less than two years there, I left for a management position at a financial services company.

There, I started as a marketing manager, and I developed strong skills in data modeling, forecasting and analytics, as our marketing efforts were very database driven and complicated. Wait! Don't fall asleep! Just push through, and it will get more exciting, I promise!

It was there I began and learned to manage people and departments, instead of doing everything myself. That was hard, as I tend not to trust anyone to do the job right. I managed many areas of marketing there, from email and direct mail, to TV advertising, to loyalty programs, to customer communications, to conferences and events and everything in between. I was responsible for delivering revenue results (managing a P&L) from my department's marketing efforts. When I left, my responsibility was to drive $40 million in revenue.

I rose to an executive level there, where I was able to learn how business works (or doesn't, in some cases), across multiple departments, and from the board room. I developed and managed many strategic company projects from conception to delivery, working with other executives and their departments. I was able to manage projects that were wide ranging, even things like Event planning and Software implementation. It was all invaluable experience.

I traveled frequently between the Utah, New York, Chicago, and San Francisco offices in the process, leaving my poor wife and kids to fend for themselves. I think they ate out every single meal.

After a while, the trips, politics, and burdensome corporate life over-shadowed the prestige, stock options, bonuses and office perks, and I decided to move out of the corporate world.

I was frustrated with how slow the company began to move as it got bigger, and I was tired of waiting on other people, many of whom were utter morons. Even though I loved my work, and was very successful at it, I realized I couldn't work in the slow corporate world forever without going insane. I love fast-paced movement, and growing a business, so last year I became a true entrepreneur.

I started one business with two partners. It's an online media company, and we produce written and video education and commentary on financial markets for ourselves, as well as other financial services companies. (Stuff for Investors, basically). My partners are the experts in investing and economics, and they produce all the materials and media, and it's my job to run most of the rest of the business, handing the marketing and site design. But we all do a little of everything. I even write economic commentary from time to time myself. (Here's a sample article. Warning! It will probably bore you!)
The site is www.PFXGlobal.com.

I also do freelance marketing consulting. Basically the same things I did for all my previous employers, but now, I do it as a contractor/consultant. I don't actively seek work, but take it as it comes along (My rates are pretty expensive, so it's not something I just go out and sell often).

Right now, I'm also working on a business that would give small and medium business owners tools and training to manage their own marketing. So Joe Retail Store Owner can use our tools to learn what marketing is, and how it works, and then run his own marketing campaigns. That's under construction now, and will launch soon. The site is www.getmemarketing.com

Wow, that was a long and boring post. If it made you sleepy, sorry. Just remember, this is my journal as much as anything, so my grandkids are the ones this is really for. They'll be bored too.

What I believe is the WORST fad ever!!

2008-02-08T20:24:00.000-08:00

So, this is actaully Lessley (the wife). I broke into Ryan's blogger account. I cracked the password (which is actually very easy since he uses the same password for EVERYTHING). Anyway, I debated whether or not to post this on my blog, but then I decided it would make so much more sense here. So here goes what I believe to be the WORST fad ever: Guys with long hair with the sides shaved underneath. If you don't know exactly what I mean, please let me give you a visual:All I can say is Ryan is DANG lucky that he realized this wasn't cool by the time he met me, or else he would never had scored the Trophy wife that he did.

A picture is worth...

2008-02-08T19:17:00.000-08:00

Great "bad fad" comments to those who posted. I thought it would add to the "tight"-ness to include some pictures (apologies to Danielle for the use of that word).

Who's afraid of the Big Bad Bangs? Me, for one. Carrie Christensen for another.

Was that Kate Hudson?

The horribleness of the Flock of Seagulls hairstyle was only surpassed by the music of the band.

While we're on the topic, though, nobody has had a worse run of hairdos over the years than Rod Stewart. I know he's British, but come - on! Can't he afford to hire people to tell him how bad he looks?

The sad truth is, Ernest didn't need to get scared to be stupid.

"Just say no," to Flipped Up Collar (FUC).

On the plus side, no woman in the 80's had cold feet.

If you ever think about wearing spandex again, please look at this picture first.

Although it looked terrible, at least nobody's pants got wet walking through puddles.

I welcome more nominations for worst fad ever. Just comment on this post.

Worst fads ever (Please don't bring back spandex!)

2008-02-04T11:16:00.000-08:00

Note: You are not allowed to read this post unless you comment with your most hated fads. I mean it! If you've already read it, and have not commented, you are stealing!

Leg-warmers, neon, and greatest of all: The Mullet.

Regrettable fads. Over the years, there have been thousands of them that have surfaced in popular culture and fashion, which seemed "cool," "rad," or "boss" at the time, but looking back we realized they were indisputably stupid and lame.

The 1980 hit movie Fame ("I'm gonna live fo-ev-ahh") made leg-warmers, leotards, and men dancing seem cool and socially superior. However, Six Oscar awards, a 5 year TV spin-off, and 243,984 gender confused young men later, we realized how insanely stupid the whole idea was.

Pretty much everything in the 1980s falls into the Regrettable Fad category.

Unfortunately, human beings possess a horribly short memory for such lapses of reason and good taste, and these fads seem to cycle back into popularity and coolness.

Take for example, the Flipped Up Collar (FUC). In the mid-eighties, you were pretty much from another planet if you didn't flip up the collar on your neon colored polo shirt (also regrettable with the collar down). After a while, people realized this severely impacted their neck-tan, and the FUC went out as fast as it arrived, never to be seen aga....

But Wait! I distinctly remember the day in 2003, when I was sitting in my office at work, and I noticed one of the Metro-Male interns walking by. I was horrified to see that the collar on his $1,423 polo shirt from Hollister (another regrettable, and expensive fad) was flipped up!

It was like there was a time-warp portal right outside my office, and he happened to stumble through from 1985! I was terrified he would have a giant WalkMan tape player clipped to his belt with Purple Rain playing into giant foam headphones.

A chat with the woman in the office next door ended my fears of a time-warp portal, but replaced it with an even more grave fear: The 80s were coming back.

So for the last few years, I've been going up to people, fixing their collars, and telling them "Hey, I don't mean to alarm you, but you left your collar up. I put it down for you to save further embarrassment."

So it got me thinking: What fads might come back that I would have a hard time accepting?

And what fads would you not accept? Maybe there are some that have already come back that have given you hives?

So here are my top 2. I want everyone who reads this to submit their top three also. That will be so Boss.

1. Heavy Bass Stereo Systems in cars

This one isn't exactly "out" yet, but it's far less predominant than it used to be in the mid-nineties.

Remember the days when you would pull up to a stoplight, and as you listened to the Best of Bread on CD, your body began to vibrate uncontrollably?

Then, you would develop an instant headache, and sudden rage against rap music (another horrible fad. Just longer-term).

You look over, and what do you see in the turn lane? The cause of your nausea and anger:

A 1985 Ford Escort, colored rust brown, muffler being held on with bailing twine, and killer plastic Wal Mart hub cap covers.

But it wasn't what was on the outside that was so aggravating. It was the stereo system inside. While the sum of the exterior of the car, added to the value of the of the owner's trailer house added up to $1,123, the stereo system in that car had a retail value of $35,098, and the bass could blast the doors off the Space Shuttle.

But it wasn't bumping near the Space Shuttle. It was shaking the air freshener off your rear-view mirror and causing your insides to churn. Plus, the lyrics were turning your brain to mush, and giving you a strange desire to turn your hat backward and leave the tags on it.

The funny thing is, nobody who liked good music had these systems. It was the people with zero taste and brains to match.

Anyway, that's one thing I hope continues to fade out and never comes back. Because the technology has only gotten better, and the music even worse.

2. The Michael Jackson Glove

So this would be in the top 5 worst fads ever. Not just because it was completely stupid and in totally poor fashion, but because it was just a single glove!

First off, people in southern California don't need ANY gloves. Second of all, Michael Jackson was, and is, a sick pedophile, whom nobody should ever try to imitate. And third, the thing had sequins! Are you kidding me? Sequins? Did you need any more evidence that Jacko was a sick nutjob?

Worse, an entire generation of young kids (white, black and in-between) for some drug- or smog-induced reason thought it would be cool to where a glove like Michael. So they did. And it was embarrassing and uncomfortable for everyone.

Honorable Mentions:

The word "psych"
Any movie with Ernest
Miami Vice
Achy Breaky Heart
British Knights Shoes
San Francisco

I'm a cheapskate

2008-01-25T19:28:00.000-08:00

And I'm not afraid to admit it. I'm a real tight-wad. I don't save dental floss, or re-use ziplock bags, but I'm pretty dang cheap.

This posed a problem while I was dating. Well, a problem for the girls I dated, anyway.

This is how it all started:

It was my first date-dance: Homecoming. I was excited. The girl was hot (even though she had me by at least 2 inches in height). My friends and I all had dates. We were dreaming of good-night kisses. Then, the expenses started rolling in.

First, there was the dance ticket: $10. Then (unbeknownst to me) I had to pay for pictures Another $10. In my mind, that was (and still is), the stupidest thing ever. Isn't a nice 4x6 enough to remember the event? It's not like you're marrying the girl!

Then, I'm supposed to rent a tuxedo. Are you kidding me? Dressing up an awkward gawky teenager in a tuxedo is like putting lipstick on a pig. So my friends all dropped another $25 or so on a tux, and I wore a Thrift-Store blazer and black dockers.

Then, there was dinner. We went to the Olive Garden. I'll never forget the moment of horror I experienced when I opened the menu (it was my first time ever eating there). I had no idea there were places you could eat where a meal was more than $10 -- and that didn't even include a drink!!! I distinctly remember that I ordered spaghetti and meatballs, the cheapest entree on the menu. I also remember my date ordered Fettuccine Alfredo that was $12.95. I wept in the bathroom.

Anyway, we go to the dance, where I'm mentally calculating the losses in my net worth, while she talks to her friends and mostly ignores me. We have a nice time. Not a great time, but a nice time. After the dance, my friends want to go get ice-cream. I like ice cream, so I'm thinking that might be fun, as I picture us at Macey's grocery store ordering the .15 cent twist cone.

But no! We end up at Baskin-Robbins, where my date proceeds to order a chocolate dipped waffle bowl with two scoops, which must have been studded with diamonds and lined with gold, because it cost like $5.95. I got a single-scoop, no cone, and a pit in my stomach.

Mercifully, the night eventually ended, but not with any touching of lips to other lips. I never went to prom or homecoming again, instead, I was the DJ at them (I got paid). I went to a couple of the casual dances, but that was all the money I was willing to spend on a girl I wouldn't be seeing over an altar.

It's not like I couldn't afford these dances. I worked from the time I was 14, and since my Dad was my boss, I was well paid (for a teenage construction worker, at least).

I had the money, I just couldn't part with it. And this has been a problem ever since. After high-school, I went to college and on my mission, where excessive frugality is a necessity, so it only got worse.

As I've developed in my career, I've mellowed out quite a bit. Traveling the country on the company dole made me realize there are some things worth spending money one. So I've loosened the purse-strings some. But not a lot.

In the process of being frugal, plus having many profit and loss duties in my work, I've become very proficient in managing my finances and investments, so I wouldn't change a thing about my embarrassingly stingy ways as a young man. It made me a consummate saver. I find joy in seeing my savings account and retirement portfolio grow.

And I still think everything's too expensive. I have a strong background in economics and finance, so I understand free market pricing and consumerism. But logic and fact can't prevent me from holding fast to the Ryan Teeples Pricing Policy Theory.

This quirky theory holds that there are certain items that should be priced a certain amount, regardless of supply and demand. They just should, that's why! Here are some of those things:

The 99 cent tier

All of these things should be priced less than $1, including:

Any single fast-food item (a 3 item combo meal would therefore be $2.97
A gallon of gas
2 gas station hot dogs
A gallon of milk
A 2 liter bottle of soda
A 2x4 stud
Batteries
A pair of socks
A can of soup
A gallon of ice cream
Chapstick
A roll of tums (which I buy frequently)

The $9.99 tier

Any DVD or CD
Articles of clothing including pants and shirts (It's been a long time since I paid more than $10 for any article of clothing (excluding shoes).
Entrees at restaurants (appetizers should never exceed $2.49)
Any pizza (most should be less than $5)
Any home decor item
Pillows (I realized recently that these are expensive)

The $99 tier

Any hotel room
The utility bill
Any gadget, including mobile phones, MP3 players, VCRs, DVD players, stereos, etc.

Yeah, I know I'm just a crazy cheapskate, but I can't help it.

The Mexican Soup and Sandwich Combo Meal: Only 500 Calories!

2008-01-20T19:21:00.001-08:00

I truly believe that the Combo Meal is one of this century's greatest accomplishments.

Top 5 Inventions of this Century

1. Combustion Engine
2. Internet Transfer Protocol
3. The Combo Meal
4. Wikipedia.com
5. Free soda refills

Admittedly, my list is poorly researched and possibly biased. But I stand by my contention that Combo Meals are a beautiful thing (It's more than a little concerning that two of the items on my list have to do with fast food restaurants).

By the way, does anyone remember what the last major food chain to add combo meals was? I think it was Taco Bell. The reason I remember, is that you could look at their Combo Meal prices, and then look at the price of the individual items from the combo totaled up, and they were always exactly the same price. No discount at all for the combo. It took me a long time to forgive Taco Bell for this obvious crime against humanity.

So in honor of this great accomplishment, today I invented my own Combo Meal -- Tex-Mex Style. For those of you who don't know, I do the cooking in our house so that my wife can have time to read blogs (Ha ha! I'm just kidding. I enjoy cooking, and she would rather be run over by a steam-roller feet first than cook most nights, so I do it).

Since I am cutting back my calories, I've been very conscious of my cooking lately, so this recipe is even Lo-Cal! About 500 calories per serving, compared to my favorite Combo Meal, the Western Bacon Cheeseburger at Carl's Jr., which has over 1,200, not including the drink.

The Soup

This is the simplest part of the recipe. You go to the grocery store, and you buy the Campbell's Select Mexican Style Tortilla Soup. It's very, very tasty, and it only has 130 calories per serving. It comes in a 16 oz can, and they're only about $1.25 a can. Each can serves two. In fact, check out all the Campbell's Select soups. They're all lo-cal and they are cheap.

If you prefer a nice homemade soup, here is another recipe I made up once for Chicken Enchilada Soup. I cannot vouch for it's caloric content. Serves about 4 small bowls

You need:

A 10 oz. cans of Red Enchilada Sauce (Don't cheap out here. While on most canned foods, my philosophy is "They all come from the same factory in Sandusky, Ohio," with enchilada sauce, you really do get what you pay for)
A 10 oz. can of Cream of Chicken Soup
1/2 an onion, chopped. I prefer Walla Walla Sweet onions, but any white or yellow onion is fine.
Cooked, chopped or shredded chicken (optional)
Garlic salt
Pepper

This is pretty easy. Saute the onions in some very light oil, until they are just barely soft. Open the cans, mix them together, add-in the onions, and the chicken if you want some. Bring to a soft boil, then simmer on low for about 5 min. Add garlic salt and pepper to taste. Also, sprinkle in cheese as you like, and crumble tortilla chips on top.

The Sandwich

This is a fun one. You need:

Corn tortillas (50 calories each)
Cooked, chopped chicken or beef (about 50 calories, but mostly protein)
Shredded Cheese (I use the Mexican Blend pre-shredded stuff. It makes things so easy, about 75 calories)
Salsa (Not Picante Sauce. There's a big difference. I use Rojos Medium, calories are negligible)
Cooking oil (about 100 calories)

Heat some oil in a frying pan (I use a brush or spoon to spread a thin layer right on the tortilla, rather than filling a frying pan with it. Saves tons of calories). Put one corn tortilla in and let it start frying. Spread chicken, cheese and salsa on it, then place another tortilla on top. Let the tortilla fry until it starts to look and feel hard, then flip carefully and fry the other side. You can add refried beans too if you like.

When it's done, you have a crispy tostada sandwich, and it's quite tasty. You can dip in sour cream or guacamole if you can afford the calories.

The Drink

I like Crystal Light. Some people hate it, others have to acquire a taste for it, but I like it. Plus, it's basically zero calories. My favorite is a mix of Apple and Peach. You mix one little packet of each to make a gallon. It's a great mix if you can get used to it.

Doing Things Half-Donkey Style (It's not something dirty, you sicko)

2008-01-16T19:53:00.000-08:00

I have a problem. Thankfully, I'm not alone in this problem, as I share it with approximately 98.72452% of the male population, but it's a problem nonetheless.

I have a tendency to kind of, sometimes, every once-in-a-while, sort of, maybe, more likely than not, start a job -- and not finish it. Sound familiar?

Well, it's ingrained into the male DNA, all the way back to Adam. It all started in the Garden of Eden when Eve asked Adam to fix the leaky roof on their perfect little hut. Adam, wanting to be a good provider and protector, climbed nobly onto the roof and began patching the thatch. Unfortunately for him, he was wearing only a fig leaf, and the thatch was awfully prickly, and he ended up with scratches all over the place, including spots very near to the fig leaf.

So after a morning of fixing and scratching, Adam came down for lunch (non-forbidden fruit cocktail), and feeling a little sleepy after his hard work, uttered words that immediately became a integral part of the male language: "I'll do the rest later."

As you may know, the roof went un-fixed for about four months, and eventually, Eve became so fed up she would have done ANYTHING to get out of that leaky hut.

So from that time forward, men have followed Adam's lead and started literally billions of projects, only to abandon them somewhere between 1 and 99% of the way through.

Often times however, this is a good thing. Because another problem with men, is our inability to admit we don't know how to do something, and our inexplicable hatred of paying someone to do "something I can do myself."

Here's an illustration:

There's this dude, Guy Manly, who is a regular man, living a regular life, with a regular wife. One day, said wife says, "I think I want to hire someone to come swap out the light fixtures."

Guy Manly, as if under the spell of some horrible home-improvement demon (Home Depot Ads), says, "I can do that myself. Why would I pay someone to do something I can do myself?"

So Guy's wife, goes to the aforementioned retailer (likely on a Saturday, when I'm running in, and all I need to pick up is a box of drywall screws, but she's looking a each and every light fixture, blocking the already crowded aisles so I can't get by, while her kids knock stuff of the shelves, and make faces at me. And then all the self-checkouts are broken, so I have to wait in line behind the rocket scientist who's got a dolly full of the wrong lumber, because he thinks he can frame his basement himself, even though he has no plans, and then, none of the lumber has a barcode on it, so he waits for someone to do a price check on 47 different types of 2-bys, and when he notices I just have a box of screws, instead of asking me if I want to go ahead of him, he chit-chats with another guy he must know from work, who is there to buy PVC pipe to do his own sprinklers, despite the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about it and, like his buddy, has no plans) -- Wow, sorry, that was quite a rant. I apologize. Back to the story:

So Guy's wife, picks out the fixtures, and brings them home. "I'll get started Saturday," Guy says. Three months later, he brings the fixtures in from the garage and gets down to business.

He begins by opening the first fixture, looking at all the parts and staring at them, while turning them over and over, scrunching up his face, thinking "Oh, crap."

Thinking maybe he'll have a better idea what's going on if he first disassembles one of the existing lights, he looks up to the ceiling. Getting a chair from the kitchen to stand on, he realizes when he gets over to the fixture, that his ceilings are 9 feet tall, and even with the chair, he can't reach. So in true male fashion, he thinks, maybe if I stack 2 chairs up I can reach!

After two falls and a trip to the neighbor's to borrow a ladder, he has the fixture removed from the ceiling, with only minor drywall tearing. Unfortunately, he's even more confused now, as when he opens the light, to his dismay, he finds THREE WIRES! (each with its own little hat).

"I thought it would plug in like a blender," he mutters under his breath, along with a few words that are not appropriate for this blog.

After spending most of the day trying to get the new fixture's wires to match up with the wires coming out of the ceiling (plus 2 trips to Home Depot to pick up supplies), he finally puts the last screw in the light and is ready to flip the switch.

With a drum roll in his head, he flips the switch and...VIOLA! All the other lights go out, as he popped the breaker. "Maybe I should have put those little hats back on the wires," he thinks to himself.

Frustrated with his lack of progress, he decides to give up for the day, and tells his wife he'll give it a go again tomorrow. Three weeks later, she calls an electrician, who finishes in three hours, and only charges $75 extra to fix what Guy screwed up.

Wow, that story was a lot longer than I anticipated. But it illustrates the kind of instinct man has for doing things half-donkey.

So I personally have many of these "projects." I call them "The House." But unlike Guy in my story, I know how to build houses, do electrical wiring, and other home-improvement chores, and even I have to spend hours of time figuring out and fighting these projects (with bad words sprinkled in liberally).

So to my lovely wife Lessley, I say: I'm sorry I haven't finished the fireplace, speakers, trim, window-sill, caulking, toilet, deck, shingles, and 2002 taxes. But please know that I promise, no matter, what, come rain or shine, I will absolutely, positively do the rest later.

Men are from Iceland, women are from Ecuador

2008-01-11T21:47:00.000-08:00

Everybody has heard of the popular book "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus." But I'm here to tell you the guy who wrote it, John Gray missed a major part of the proof that men and women are, in fact, from these different planets.

Venus is close to the sun. Women, being from there, are used to very hot temperatures (a balmy 800 degrees Fahrenheit). You see, according to Wikipedia, (Venus) Venus is approximately 50% closer to the sun than Earth is, and about 2.5 times closer to the sun than mars. And, wikipedia goes on to say: "Because Venus is an inferior planet, from Earth it never appears to venture far from the Sun." I'm not sure what it means by "inferior planet," but I like the sound of it.

So when women were on Venus, they acclimated their core body temperature to those temperatures found there. This posed a major problem when they immigrated to earth in the year 1492, because they found themselves constantly cold. Their core temperature, even after all those years, still has yet to adjust to Earth's more temperate climate (maybe they still hold out hope one day they can go back to Venus).

This is why women are constantly cold, in places like "outside," and "saunas."

Additionally, Wikipedia.com has taught us (among many, many things), that "Venus is covered with an opaque layer of highly reflective clouds of sulfuric acid, preventing its surface from being seen from space in visible light."

So it's obvious, that women have bonded with their home planet, and have even taken on similar attributes. Women also have a "highly reflective" layer, which prevents anyone from seeing inside. Allow me to illustrate with the following conversation that has occurred over 1.74 quadrillion times over the years:

Man to woman: "Are you OK? You seem upset."

Woman to man: "I'm fine."

Man to woman: "Are you sure?"

Woman to man: "I'm sure. Why do you always have to question me! Why can't you understand! I just want to be left alone! You never listen to me! You never pick up your socks! Why don't you like my mother!? Do these pants make me look fat?"

Man to woman: "So you're not upset?"

Woman to man: "I'm fine."

Man to woman: "Touchdown!!! Touchdown!!! What a pass!!! I can't believe we won!!! Oh...Sorry...what were you saying?"

Anyway, as you can tell by this real-life conversation, women have a reflective layer of protection just like Venus.

Plus, we've established that women are always cold on earth because they are still on Venus Standard Temperature.

On the other hand, men were born and raised on Mars (The Sports Planet). Mars is about twice as far from the warmth of the sun as Earth. So when men first arrived here in 1776, they said "Honey, did you turn up the thermostat again?"

Men find themselves still struggling to adapt, fighting the endless torment the scorching sun blasts this planet with.

This is also compounded by the fact that women, while on Venus, absorbed vast amounts of heat from the sun, which radiates off of them, heating up everything around them. This is especially apparent when men are in the same bed as a woman, where they often encounter third degree burns by simply trying to spoon.

So how do we manage to coexist? How are we able to overcome these starkly contrasting histories?

The answers are simple: Compromise and Dual Climate Control.

P.S. I have some great thoughts next on the redeeming qualities of men, like the ability to let our minds wander to unimportant things when we're supposed to be listening to something important; like where and when to pick up the kids.

Plus, I'll expound on the ability to say we're going to do something, and then do it partially to appease whomever we're doing it for temporarily, and then let it go unfinished until we are threatened with death or no lovin'.

Don't worry ladies, I'll tell the horrible truth about guys next, and I can tell you, we've got WAY more issues than temperature.

Guitar Hero is tweaking me

2008-01-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

As if I needed to find another thing to suck all my precious time, in the last 3 weeks I discovered Guitar Hero. For those of you who live in closets, or are over 40, Guitar Hero is a video game.

Imagine being the game developer who was first pitching the idea to his boss: "So, basically, in this game, you like, strap on a guitar-shaped video game controller, and you, like, press buttons while "Paint it Black" (Rolling Stones, 1966) plays."

You'd be lucky not to get fired. Thankfully, the boss it was pitched to at Activision (possibly when high) said "That sounds sweet. Go for it." So the game was developed, and now a generation of Americans will get all their Music Appreciation from a video game.

There's really far more to the game than pressing buttons, actually. You actually have to press the buttons in sequence, and in rhythm, and it's quite entertaining and addicting.

But I'm telling you, it's been messing me up somethin' fierce. In addition to Guitar Hero, there's a similar game called RockBand. In this game, you have the guitar, plus a bassist, drummer, and you can sing it karaoke-style. It's a blast.

So on New Year's Eve we visited my sister in Middle Of Nowhere, Utah (Altamont, a suburb of Roosevelt), where my brother-in-law had RockBand set up on the giant-screen. So my brother, sister, brother in-law and I played it one night until about 3 am.

It was a blast. We totally rocked. We went on a world tour, and gained something like 237,556,095,984.5 fans. Finally we decided we should get some sleep. That's when the problem started.

It was without a doubt the most restless sleep I've ever experienced. Everytime I closed my eyes I saw green, red, yellow, blue and orange circles flying at me in warp speed. As I slipped into unconsciousness the dots morphed into bullets trying to kill me. Then they were coins I had to collect. In the dream, I absolutely had to catch every single one, or something bad would surely happen. It was inexplicably stressful.

Then, there were times that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hit a single note, no matter how much I concentrated. And this went on all night. Many times I woke up and thought, "This is stupid. Just think of something else." So I'd close my eyes, and think about something less agitating, like a baby crying or nails on a chalkboard.

But as soon as my conscious mind relented to sleep, my mind went right back to playing life-and-death variations of Guitar Hero. In the REM stage of sleep, I have no doubt my eyeballs were moving to the beat of "Rock You Like A Hurricane" (The Scorpions, 1984).

So I woke up after just 5 hours of sleep that felt like 15 minutes. But my dreams were so stressful and exhausting, it felt good to be awake, even with little rest.

Over breakfast, talking about the previous night's success in the game, I found that everyone was experiencing the same sensation I was. They too, had their sleep ruined by horrible dream-induced variations of the game.

I didn't play the game the next day, and a fitful sleep returned. But now, there's another side-effect.

Doctors call it The Googly-Eyes (As in "I'm sorry to inform you Mr. Periwinkel, that you have come down with a terminal case of The Googly Eyes). Those of you who have played the game will know what I'm talking about. In the game, your mind learns to quickly adjust to watching the music and notes scrolling downward at rapid speed. You play, or even watch the game, and you follow the scrolling. It's hard to turn away, like being hypnotized to the strains of "My Name is Jonas" (Weezer, 1994).

But when you finally break away from the spell of the game, and look at something else, everything seems to be moving up, even though it isn't. Your eyes play tricks on you, making you see movement that doesn't exist. That's Googly-Eyes.

My wife's cousin and her husband (Danielle and Steve, [the Burdens]) were over playing the game, and as he was watching someone play the game, Steve kept asking what was wrong with our TV that was making it move all weird-like. He developed a nearly instant case of the Googly-Eyes.

So anyway, please, please, please be careful with Guitar Hero. If you're not, you may find yourself sleep-deprived, wandering the streets dodging green, red, and yellow bullets, asking why everything around you is moving all swishy-like, while "Mississippi Queen" (Mountain, 1970) plays in your head.

The Teeples

2007-12-28T11:44:00.000-08:00

So I decided not to work the entire Holiday season, and I've found some time on my hands. I can only play Trucks and Perfection with my son for so long, before I have to do something to keep my brain from turning to mayonnaise. I've already read a book or so, and I'm actually working on my own book, but I've also found some other things to entertain myself. One of the funnest is this site: www.simpsonizeme.com

As a big fan of the show, I decided to Simpsonize our entire family, and post here for your enjoyment.

Happy Holidays from the Teeples!

Tick-Tock, where's the clock?

2007-12-11T21:46:00.000-08:00

Lessley (my wife, for those of you who don't know) has this thing for clocks. Over the last few years, she's kind of become obsessed with them, and I have to admit, they make for classy decorations for the house.

So, she has come to use clocks as a decorating staple, in areas of the house like bedrooms, bathrooms, and broom closets. I've never actually counted them, but if I had to guess, I'd bet we have 237 clocks on our property, not including watches or appliances.

We have a nice antique clock in the living room. A small elegant clock sits on the shelf in our bathroom. And a clock the size of West Texas sits above the table in our kitchen (and the battery has been dead for some time, but it's so high up there on a shelf, and so clunky to try to handle, that we haven't bothered to change it. It's always 6:40 at our house!).

But working or not, those clocks don't threaten our marriage like the one in our bedroom does. You see, we, the Teeples, have the honor and privilege of owning the world's loudest ticking clock.

I'm not talking about a gently soothing tick here. This thing pounds so loud you want to bang your own head against the wall to the rhythm just to make it stop. It's so loud, I literally can't sleep. Lessley, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind the jackhammering tick-tocks, and sleeps through the decibels.

So every night, I have to remove the clock from the wall, and put it in the closet so I can't hear it, allowing me the luxury of restful sleep at night. Lessley takes great pleasure in the fact that this clock drives me nuts, and unfortunately, I rarely remember to take the clock down BEFORE I get into bed. Every time it happens Lessley laughs and laughs. I think it secretly makes her day.

Usually, I crawl into bed, weary from a long day and and an early start (9 a.m.) , burrow in the covers, and get myself in that spot/position where all my muscles are relaxed and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud and sleep is sure to come instantly.

Then, finally lying still, that horrible drum beat hits my ears, and takes away all the comfort I worked so hard to create. So I have to climb back out into the cold, pull it off the wall, and put it to bed in the closet. This has been going on for a year now.

The worst part of this story is that I bought the blasted thing. I always struggle finding thoughtful Christmas gifts for Lessley, and her clock phase/obsession offered me a slam dunk gift. Now I pay for it every night.

So now I've resorted to hiding the offending timepiece in the closet. Lessley always finds it, but the fact that it's hidden sometimes deters her from putting it back up for a couple days. So at least I'm earning moral victories.

This Christmas, before I wrap any gifts, I'm sleeping in the same room with them to make sure they aren't annoying so I avoid this pitfall in the future.

A random funny story

2007-12-05T22:50:00.000-08:00

It's totally random, but this is one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me:

I was eating at Carl's Jr. (Borderline WT Tendency, but I love that place! I also love Jack in the Box, for their tacos. I know it sounds crazy, but I can't get enough of them. Whenever we go to visit Idaho, California, Nevada, St. George, etc. I have to get 4 JITB tacos a day. Uh...yeah...that sounds really bad when I write it out like that, but it's true.)

Anyway, I was eating at Carl's Jr. and I placed my order and went to our table. For those of you who aren't familiar, when you place your order there, they give you a little plastic number that you take to your table, and then somebody who doesn't speak English or doesn't look people in the eye, brings your food to you.

And like many fast food places, they are afraid that if they give you ketchup when you don't ask for it, they'll go bankrupt, one half-cent packet at a time.

So I place my usual order (Spicy Chicken Combo, no mayo, $2.99), and get my number (15) and take it to my table. The lady comes with my tray, sets it down, and starts to walk away. Then, this exchange, which I swear to you is 100% true, transpires (I even have a witness):

Ryan: "Excuse me, do you have any fry sauce?"

Woman: "Yes."

She then proceeds to put her hand in her apron pocket, pull out two little packages of fry-sauce, hold them out in her palm, pause for about 1.27 seconds for me to see them, then puts them right back in her apron pocket and walks away.

My friend and I looked at each other and immediately burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. I kept saying "That did NOT just happen, did it?"

I have to imagine that a fast food employee is asked countless times per day if she has condiments, so for her benefit, I'm assuming that our encounter was the very first she had with a customer on her first day of the job. She's probably the Manager now.

Anyway, that was one of the funniest moments of my life.

By the way, Carl's Jr. is one of the most brilliant companies around. Here's why:

Go there on an average day, during lunch. It's like a melting pot of different social classes, ethnic groups, and sub-cultures. Migrant laborers stand in line with Soccer-Moms. Office workers sit at tables next to construction workers. BYU fans share salt-shakers with Utah fans (who are still crying). It's truly amazing, and I've eaten at enough places to know that this is uncommon.

So why does this phenomenon occur? Marketing. The TV ads for Carl's Jr. are geared 100% to men. They show greasy, dripping burgers and hot women, (because they go together so often in real life). So men naturally go to Carl's Jr.

But the restaurants themselves are geared toward Moms with Kids (MWKs). They all have modern and (relatively speaking) clean indoor play places. Plus, the menus are very kid friendly, and they have a wide variety of chicken sandwiches and salads to appease the MWKs. So you see lots of them there, with their 3.2 kids each. Seriously, it's like a Thirty-Something Relief Society meeting in that separate, not-quite-sound-proof section of the restaurant at lunch time.

And the price appeals to migrant workers and construction laborers.

(Oddly enough, a Carl's Jr. commercial just ran on TV while I was typing this, geared toward thirty-something male office-workers.)

So basically, Carl's Jr. embodies the principles of tolerance, integration and acceptance that this country was founded upon. The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!

P.S. Thanks to so many of you for the kind comments about my Top Ten list. I'll have to do more of them.

Random Thoughts

2007-12-05T21:30:00.000-08:00

I really don't have any one good idea for a blog post right now, but I have a few random things to drone about that somebody might find interesting.

Exposing the Lie
In a previous post ("Tag, I'm It") I told people some things about myself, but I said that one of the things was totally made up, and you were supposed to guess which one. Since nobody guessed, I forgot to report which thing was bogus (Although, since nobody guessed, maybe nobody cared!).

Anyway, this was the fabrication:

"2. When I was in college, I wrote a novel called "Into the Breech," about an unemployed construction worker who accidentally becomes involved in an assassination plot of a foreign diplomat vacationing in Santa Barbara, California. It's still in my Box-o-Memories, and it's about 300 typed pages. I never got the book published, but I talked to a couple publishers, and once had dreams of being the next John Grisham."

Nope; I never wrote a novel, and if I did, it wouldn't be about an unemployed construction worker. I do however, have intentions to write a novel. I have many ideas for them, and I have a publisher (my business parters are authors) but I've never focused enough to actually write it.

My background is actually in writing. When I was in High School in Orem, I wrote sports articles for a local newspaper. I was paid by the length of the articles. I've worked in marketing ever since, and have written more ads, proposals, web pages and brochures than I care to remember. But I love to write, and wish I could write more fun things (like this blog!)

Anyway, my first novel will have to wait until after I make my first million and have time to dedicate to it. Maybe I'll write it chapter by chapter and post it on my blog. That way, if it sucks, you guys can tell me.

And to the rest of you lying to yourselves
I'm disappointed in all of you out there! I've heard from lots of you through the grapevine or from the horse's mouth (Two Figures of Speech in a row!) that you all have White Trash Tendencies, but were too embarrassed to admit it to everyone. Shame on you all!

There's a 4-Step recovery program to reform your WT Tendencies, and admitting it in public is an important step. Here are the full 4-Steps:

1. Turn off CMT and get up off the couch.
2. Admit your WT tendency publicly (You cannot admit this to a true WT person, because they will not understand why you want to quit this behavior. He or she will likely invite you over to his/her trailer to sit on the couch and watch CMT)
3. Go to a public place where WT people are likely to be. Bowling alleys, Carnivals, and rural Wal-Marts are excellent choices. Observe people exhibiting the WT tendency you wish to reform. Once you see true WT people in their natural habitat doing something you sometimes have a WT tendency to do, you will immediately have a desire to give up the behavior. Mercifully, this is how Spandex slowly phased itself out.
4. Repress any memories of "Achy-Breaky Heart."

Actually, Gina Steinagel was the only one to admit a WT tendency, and kudos to her! She admits:

"...after giving it a lot of thought my white trash tendency would have to be the times(and yes it has happened more than once) I go to walmart in my pajamas...and not the new superwalmart like in Lehi but an old crusty one that makes you feel dirty all over and you really need a shower when you get home!!"

Gina, don't feel too bad. Since I started working at home, I find that I go places all the time without combing my hair, putting on clean clothes, etc. But it is definitely a WT tendency.

To the rest of you: Don't be scared! Admit your WT tendencies. It's fun, and therapeutic.

Ryan

Top Ten Signs The Santa At The Mall Might Not Be The Real Santa

2007-12-02T20:03:00.000-08:00

Here's a fun Top Ten list I created to make your holiday merry:

10. There are migrant laborers outside his workshop with a big sign that says "Shame on Santa: Labor Dispute"
9. He and his elves wear tights: on and off-duty
8. His beard is white from a fine powder, and he seems to have the sniffles
7. He's charging the kids a nickel per gift-wish
6. You recognize him from the news as the leader of an Elf Fighting Ring.
5. He calls every kid "little Johnny"
4. He's got pieces of Chinese in his beard from the food court - including half an eggroll
3. He only accepts requests for gifts from "Hot Topic"
2. His breath smells like Peppermint Schnapps
1. He keeps inviting the Moms to sit on his lap

An Ode to Lessley

2007-11-25T20:13:00.000-08:00

Sitting here thinking aloud about some things I could write about for a new blog post, Lessley (my wife of 6 years!) said "Write about me!"

Since I know she was joking, and she'd be embarrassed if I really wrote about her, I decided to do just that.

So, for the enjoyment, amusement and possible boredom of those reading this, I hereby declare this Ode to Lessley (An Ode is an odd form of poetry, and sometimes you have to read it a couple times to follow the rhythm):

From Taylorsville, Utah she hales
     Her fairness known throughout that land
She journeyed out in search of males
     At college found she one so grand
Her love and kindness ne'er is matched
     Two handsome children will agree
         Her family has become her greatest work
Her man rejoices her he's catched
    The children daily shout their glee
          All three love her, every quirk

Wasn't that fun! In all seriousness, Lessley is quite a woman. Here are some things you may not know about her:

1. Lessley is an amazing Mom. While she can be frustrated by them, her children are the most important thing in the world to her. She loves nothing more than spending time with Eli and Hallie, reading stories, playing Candyland (the most boring game in the history of mankind. We usually try to cheat and get Eli to draw Queen Frostine so the game ends sooner). She also loves to dress the kids up like living, breathing dolls. And with the exception of a couple outfits for Eli (there are two that are a little too Metro for me) we have, be far, the best dressed kids in town.

P.S. When Lessley gets frustrated with the kids (Eli mostly), she has a little frustrated grunt she does. It sounds like this: "Unggggh!" It's not loud, and it's kind of under her breath.

Well, the funny thing is, Eli has started doing the exact same thing! In so many ways he is just like me, so it's funny to see the little ways he's like his Mom.

2. Lessley LOVES cereal. If we weren't slackers, and truly had 2 year's supply of food, we'd have 423 boxes of Captain Crunch, 297 boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats, 144 boxes of Coco Pebbles and 97 bags of Malt-o-Meal "Scooters" (Generic Honey Nut Cheerios).

On average, she eats two bowls of sugar-coated, artificially flavored corn product each day, one in the morning, and one while we're watching TV at night. Her favorite used to be Count Chocula (she can respond if this has changed), which is chocolate flavored corn puffs with little chocolate marshmallows.

The thing I love most, is she has an unbelievable ability to get cereal at amazing discounts. She knows when the stores are having good sales, and combines that with coupons, to the point that she gets her cereal at ridiculously low prices! Sometimes she gets in "the zone" where she is so focused and so prepared, that her coupons require the store pay US, and we walk out with, like 74 boxes of Honeycombs plus about 50 bucks.

3. Lessley has become a pretty good writer. Now, you're thinking to yourself, "Why is that an accomplishment? Why would you spend your valuable, world-renown blogging skills to tell us Lessley can write "pretty good."

Here's why: When we met, she could barely write a grocery list! I don't mean to be mean, but she wasn't blessed with an innate ability to write. Lots of people aren't.

But here's where she's different:

She never gave up trying, and now she can write! When we first met, it was in English class. She hated writing, and often would con me into doing her writing for her (By the way, the only time I ever got a "C" grade on a paper was on one I did for Lessley. I was pissed. It was at least "B-" work. But since I didn't draw the conclusions the professor wanted, he downgraded it).

So anyway, I helped her a little, and mostly, she just continued trying. By the end of that year, she had improved drastically. And by the time she graduated, she had become pretty good. I've told her this before, but I don't think she gets it, but I am SO proud of her for that. She can be pretty self-defeating and afraid of failure. But in this case, she came out the conqueror. She defeated her El Guapo (If you don't know why that's funny, you need to watch the 3 Amigos again, because trust me, it's funny).

And now, she's more willing to try new things. Her blog has become something she loves. And she's becoming very good and creative in her cake decorating. She may not believe it, but I think learning to write got her creative juices flowing, and now there's lots more juice yet to be...uh...juiced?

Anyway, Lessley is an amazing wife and mom, lover of cereals, and average writer. We (Eli, Hallie and I) love her more than anything, and we're glad she puts up with us.

Tag, I'm it

2007-11-09T20:44:00.000-08:00

Carrie Christensen, a friend of ours, "tagged" me, which, I learned from Lessley, means that I have to tell seven things about myself that are unique or interesting. I came up with six, and then completely made one up. Everyone can try to guess which one is a complete fabrication :)

1. I was born in rural Wyoming, where my Dad is from. We lived a few years in the town he grew up in (Glenrock, population less than 2,000, not counting sheep). Remarkably, my Dad never developed much interest in country music, cowboy boots, or shootin' critters, so I never developed an interest in those things either. We moved to Southern California when I was little, and I was a City Slicker the rest of my life (although now I live in Lehi).

2. When I was in college, I wrote a novel called "Into the Breech," about an unemployed construction worker who accidentally becomes involved in an assassination plot of a foreign diplomat vacationing in Santa Barbara, California. It's still in my Box-o-Memories, and it's about 300 typed pages. I never got the book published, but I talked to a couple publishers, and once had dreams of being the next John Grisham.

3. When I was in school, I excelled at writing Top Ten lists, and over the course of high school and college, I probably wrote at least 100. I used to do it to impress girls and amuse myself through boredom (School at all levels bored me to tears, and although I graduated with a Bachelors degree in Marketing, I spent more time in class reading, working and writing top-ten lists than I did listening or studying. In fact, after my freshman year, I never bought a text book. When the semester began, I'd look at how each teacher graded each class, and I'd decide what assigments I'd just skip, how many classes I could miss, and how many points I needed to score on exams to get a C or above. I graduated with a C+ average and never looked back. Even with all that, I was accepted to the Business School at Harvard, which my company sponsored and was going to pay for until I quit).

4. I love to design houses. I regularly will design floorplans and elevations for houses when I'm bored or have some pent-up creative energy. Three houses I've designed have actually been built. The two I've lived in and one my brother is building right now.

5. I love to read. I read a lot of news and business commentary online, and I love a good novel. When I'm in the groove, I read about 3 books a month. And I'm sad to admit, I like to read the enclopedia, via Wikipedia.com. Lessley says it's because I'm a nerd, but the truth is I'm obsessively curious. Whenever I hear a reference to something I don't know, I have to look it up. I think too much, and I'm constantly wondering Who did what, where, when, etc. The other day I wondered what part of the world tomatoes are native to, so I read about it on Wikipedia.com(Mexico is the answer). I know, I'm lame, but I can't stem my curiosity.

The other think I love to read is maps. I know, you're thinking "You're kidding, right? You read maps?" I know it's lame, but I'm obsessed with Geography. (There's another blog post in me somewhere on "Geek Tendencies.") You know how when you meet someone, and you ask where they're from, and they say whatever state they are from and you say "What part?" even though you only know where one major city is in that area? Well, I ask "what part" because I have probably studied the map for that state and will likely know where the city is. Google Earth is the biggest distraction I've ever faced.

6. I play the guitar. When I play regularly, I can actually be pretty good. When I was in college, I played in a band called the Rehabilitated Blues Associates. I played guitar and sang lead vocals. We played a couple gigs, but mostly just pissed the people in the apartments around ours at The Glenwood in Provo. When my roomate and I were bored and wanted to meet girls, we would go sit in the commons room of a girls dorm at BYU and play the guitar, telling anyone who asked we were waiting on a friend (Yes, it worked more that you'd care to believe). I still love listening to music (my first MP3 player changed my life), but I'm kind of a music snob. I like music that requires talent. I listen to classic rock, and I love singer-songwriter acoustic guitar stuff like Jack Johnson, Ben Harper and the like.

7. I love to try new things, and I love sports. I love almost all sports (baseball being the major exception), and any game that requires physical or mental skill. In high school I played soccer, volleyball and basketball, and today I love to play basketball, golf and tennis. I spend most of my Saturdays in the fall watching college football, and I'm rabid about my BYU cougars for basketball and football.

OK, Lessley just told me I'm spending too much time on this, but I can't help it, I love to write too. And on my favorite subject! Anyway, hopefully you've learned something about me, even though it will do you absolutely no good in the grand scheme of things.

Ryan

Confessing a White-Trash tendency

2007-11-08T11:59:00.000-08:00

There's no hiding or denying it. All of us have some white trash (WT) tendencies. Some may have more than others, others may be better at hiding them, and some may be in complete WT denial, but we all have them.

So what is a WT tendency?

Here's an example: Sometimes you'll find a seemingly well-adjusted middle class guy, with a good job and strong family, who harbors a secret love for, and collection of: shot glasses. He has no idea why. He even knows it's kinda dumb. But at some point, for some reason, he stareted collecting shot glasses, and now he can't stop. That's a WT tendency.

And we all have them. There's nothing wrong with having them, we just have to admit it to ourselves and accept that it truly is WT.

One of my favorite (and common) WT tendencies is a love for Disney (or Looney Toons) character shirts (Ties too). I personally can't stand these, but I know others love them. Usually when you see someone wearing one, it's at least 3 decades old. Like Mickey Mouse standing with a surfboard entitled "Disney World, summer 1991." Or Goofy holding a sign that says "Dukakis '88."

It's been worn and washed so many times that it's about the same thickness and opacity as Plastic Wrap. Plus, it looks tye-died, but those discolorations are actually years and years of stains from chicken wings and cheap domestic beer.

But these flaws in the shirt are very minor to the person wearing it, and does nothing to deter him/her from sporting it in settings like fine restaurants and church. So this is without a doubt a WT tendency.

(By the way, I was curious, so I went to ebay and searched for "vintage Disney Shirt" and was astounded by the results: http://search.ebay.com/search/search.dll?sofocus=unknown&sbrftog=1&from=R10&_trksid=m37&satitle=vintage+disney+shirt&sacat=-1%26catref%3DC6&sargn=-1%26saslc%3D2&sadis=200&fpos=ZIP%2FPostal&sabfmts=1&saobfmts=insif&ftrt=1&ftrv=1&saprclo=&saprchi=&fsop=1%26fsoo%3D1&fgtp=)

So, in the interest of self-humiliation and full disclosure, I reveal one of my major WT Tendencies:

Loitering at the gas station

You're probably shocked and appalled to hear this, but it is, in fact, a horrible truth. I loiter outside the gas station - almost every day!

So now I must explain why. In fact, you have to be able to explain with sound logic why you have a WT tendency. If you can't explain it, you may be just plain WT.

To explain my loitering, I must reveal another WT tendency: I'm addicted to caffeinated sodas. And like so many things in life, one WT tendency inevitably leads to another, and another, spiralling swiftly out of control, until one day you wakeup in a trailer, hung over, with a cigarette in one hand, a shot glass collection on the dresser, and a Taz t-shirt on your back.

But anyway, I love to have soda in the morning (or any other hour of the day). Recently I quit my corporate job and became an entrepreneur. In my primary business, I have a business partner who lives about 20 minutes from me, who also has a caffeine addiction (He's from Payson, so he has a built in excuse for his WT tendencies).

So we meet every weekday at a gas station that's approximately half-way between us, we fill up our 52-ounce soda mugs (another WT tendency, you can see it spiralling), and we stand outside and discuss business for 30-45 minutes, which I'm pretty sure, by legal definition, is loitering.

Sure, sometimes our loitering is cut short because the employees come outside to smoke and we can't take the smell. And sometimes we get annoyed by the pounding bass coming from the music of the teenagers who park their cars at the gas station to show off to girls in spandex pants and halter-tops.

But either way, the bottom line is that two highly-skilled, middle to upper class, white, formerly senior managers at a publicly traded company get together each day to conduct business at a gas station, while sucking 52 ounces of liquid poison into our bodies with a straw.

Now that's a White-Trash Tendency. (Sometimes I even get a hotdog, which further flings me into the WT depths).

Now that I'm "out of the trailer" on this one, I invite others to share their favority WT tendency. And rest assured, I have others that I will reveal once the shock and horror of this revelation has faded.

Ryan

P.S. I have an update to my Mobile Phone Saga coming this week. It's pretty cool, so stay tuned.

A spaghetti recipe to say sorry

2007-11-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

I admit, I was pretty hard on spaghetti noodles in my last post. So to make up for it, I'm posting my new favorite spaghetti recipe. It's actually a Chinese dish, but this will impress your whole family, and it's super easy.

I made it the other night (I do the cooking in Casa de Teeples) and everybody liked it, as it's a pretty mild, but tasty Chinese meal. Most of these ingredients you'll have at home, so don't worry about having to buy some odd oriental spice, or fish-eyes, or MSG. Bon apetite!

Sesame Chicken
Likely, the only thing you won't have at home is the seasoning packet. You can get it at Albertson's. It's "Sun-Bird" brand Sesame Pineapple seasoning packet. It looks like a taco seasoning packet, only it's yellow, and you find it where you find the teriyaki sauce. If you're serving more than three, get two of them.

Follow the instructions on the packet to make the sesame chicken. It includes things like brown sugar, corn starch, soy sauce, etc. It's super easy to make, and takes about 20 minutes.

I serve it over boiled white rice. You can also pick up the "Sun-Bird" fried rice seasoning packet if you prefer fried rice.

Oriental Noodles
This one's totally home-made, and super simple. I made it up the other day.

Cook spaghetti noodles. Drain and rinse.

In a wok, or no-stick frying pan, heat oil and saute:

1/4 of a yellow onion, chopped
1 full size carrot, shredded thick or sliced thin
Broccoli, cut to whatever size you want

Now, once the veggies are nice and soft (you might want to boil the broccoli first, just depends how crisp you want it), and the oil is nice and hot, add the cooked noodles.

Next, you add flavoring. You can use teriyaki sauce, or soy sauce for a basic flavor. I used Kikoman brand "Garlic Teriyaki" sauce. It has a nice even flavor. There are lots of flavored sauces to choose from in the oriental section of the grocery store, so have fun with it.

Mix in the sauce to taste. I find it takes about 5-6 good shakes of the bottle (you know, they have that little hole on top that only lets a few drops out at a time), but just go with your own taste.

Let them fry, stirring and mixing often. You'll start to see the cooked ones get a little less flimsy, and a little lighter in color. Once about 1/2 of the noodles look that way, you're ready to serve. Don't let them get too cooked, or they'll get hard. When in doubt, just taste some.

That's pretty much it. Enjoy, and let me know if you try it, and how it was.

Lessley says I'm a girl for posting a recipe on my blog, but I'm secure enough in my masculinity to share a good dinner idea. Plus, if I'm a woman for posting a recipe, is she a man because she hates cooking?

Why spaghetti?

2007-10-27T14:15:00.000-07:00

Shopping with Lessley the other day, we came across the pasta aisle, and determined we needed to add some to our food storage.

Lessley instinctively grabbed spaghetti noodles. I disagreed with the choice of pasta selected, and asked why she wanted spaghetti. "Well, what if we want to make spaghetti?" she asked.

I proceeded to argue that you can use any kind of noodle to mix with tomato sauce, but in the end, she bought the spaghetti.

So it got me thinking: Why in the world do we use spaghetti noodles? Think about it, there are much better pastas out there to make marinara dishes out of, that have distinct advantages over spaghetti.

Spaghetti is sloppy and messy. It has to be cut, or wrapped around a fork to eat, which can be considered impolite by some. Even if you manage the stab-and-twirl maneuver, and get it wrapped around the fork, there's always that last 4 inches of noodle(s) that just won't wrap. No matter how many times you rotate, it just keeps slipping off, foiling your attempts at civilized eating.

So what do you do? You slurp, of course! You get as much of the swath of noodles as you can inside your mouth, and whatever is left outside, you slurp up.

I don't know how it works for you, but whenever I do this, I end up with WAY more sauce on my shirt than in my mouth, as the splash-back from the slurp sends micro drops of permanently-staining red-sauce all over my non-designer clothes.

And don't even try to eat it with meatballs (FYI: Spaghetti is never eaten with meatballs in Italy. That's solely an American creation). Trying to cut a chewable piece of meat off the ball without shooting if off the plate and onto your dining parter is tough enough. But getting spaghetti noodles in your mouth with it? Fuhgettaboutit.

Penne, farfalle (bowtie), macaroni, gemelli and rotini are all sold in nearly every grocery store in America, and are far easier to eat. They're bite-size, fit more easily in a pot, and don't require any slurping for consumption.

So why do we so instinctively grab spaghetti? My rabid curiousity wouldn't allow me to let the question go unanswered, so I did some research. Here's the gist of it:

A large majority of Italian immigrants to the US in the early part of the century came from the region of Campania, where spaghetti noodles were commonly eaten. Why those people chose them, I can't find, but suffice it to say, they brought their inconvenient pasta noodle tradition with them on the boat.

As these immigrants began to introduce their cuisine to the Americans, spaghetti noodles caught on. Macaroni was already here, but it was brought from the British, so mixing it with tomato sauce would have been like putting Mussolini and Churchill in the same carpool.

When women's magazines caught on, they had diverse recipes in them, and spaghetti was a common culinary inclusion.

(Here's where I got my info: http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/198607/pasta)

So, as a result, a generation of Americans in the 30s - 60s grew up thinking italian food consisted of watered-down tomato sauce with oregano and skinny, hard to eat noodles.

I know some of you out there are thinking, "But it's so fun to eat spaghetti! And don't you remember how cute it was in "Lady and the Tramp" when they both started eating the same noodle and ended up kissing?"

My answer: That was only cute to women, and give me pasta that doesn't require a special fork-maneuver to eat, and won't leave spatter on my shirt.

Ryan

Why I gave up Politics for Sport

2007-10-21T19:47:00.000-07:00

I used to be really into politics. I mean, REALLY into politics. While in high school and college, I followed them with a magnifying glass, listening to talk radio, reading all the news magazines and multiple newspapers, even participating in volunteer polling and campaigning for candidates. I was a total junkie (Insert your geek, nerd, or loser jokes here. But know that I also was involved in sports and girls. I may have been a nerd, but I was a well-rounded nerd :)

I studied how government works, and I read philosophy of all political thought leaders, old and new. I followed specific policies in great depth. I could tell you what congressman was from what state, and who was the head of what committee of congress.

I developed passionate views on issues, and I easily became enraged at the ignorance of some, and the apathy of others in high positions in government. I got frustrated and angry as I watched issue after issue find itself unresolved, even after years of debate and policy-making. Yet, for all this, I still had a love for it.

Then, in 2000, that all changed. The last political event I recall following closely was the 2000 presidential election. I remember it well, because I learned that day that my future wife really liked me. The night of the election, she sat next to me on the couch, bored to tears, as I watched state after state report their electoral vote counts. Lessley fell asleep around the time Iowa checked in. But she stayed with me the whole time. She was obviously crazy, or maybe just sick of her roommates.

But for some reason, that election marked the end of my life-long interest in politics. I mean, I gave it up cold turkey. No more talk-radio, no more news mags, no more reading 5 newspapers a day. I was done. And I didn't make a conscious decision, I just lost interest. Something that was such a major part of my life, suddenly carried no appeal to me.

The void left by my abandonment of politics was quickly filled with sports. Now, I've always been a pretty big sports fan. But I suddenly found much greater pleasure in it. I started listening to sports radio in the car, and read everything there was to read about BYU sports, and began to follow college football, basketball, golf and the NFL pretty closely (I basically ignore baseball. I'm too impatient to enjoy it).

After about 12 months, I had fully made the transition from the ins-and-outs of D.C., to the Wide World of Sports. And I stood back, wondering WHY this happened. Why did my appetite for politics basically wither overnight. Why did my love of sports so naturally take its place?

Then, it hit me. It was so simple, yet clear: Sport resolves itself; Politics never do.

You may recall, that 2000 was the election where all the cotton-heads (that's old people. Maybe you prefer "blue-hairs?") in Florida couldn't figure out the ballots, and the results were debated and challenged for a couple days.

Elections were/are the ONE thing in politics that are supposed to be final, and completed without debate. Yet, even the election couldn't be resolved.

With sports, it's all decided on the field. And nobody leaves until it's final. And while there is dispute over calls, rankings etc., in the end, it's always resolved through fair play, and everyone accepts the result (The MAJOR exception is college football, but that's a whole different blog post).

Politics is played on a field with no rules, no fair play, and no scoreboard. In the end, I guess I outgrew games without end.

So there it is. I no longer follow the flow of the political river, I opt instead for the mindless, trite, and somewhat primal world of sports. But at least I get closure after every game.

P.S. I should point out that I still have a love for History. And I love to study the history of government. But there is a difference: when it's history, there's no frustration, because it's already water under the bridge. With history, there's no need for closure, because you can't change what's already happened.

My victory over "The Man"

2007-10-19T13:30:00.000-07:00

History is written by the victor.

I recently emerged victorious from a great battle. So, as the winner, it falls upon me to write the story. I share it with you in the hope that you learn from my experience, and beware of the pitfalls that exist.

In January, I decided my mobile phone sucked, and I wanted a new one. Knowing it had been a while since I got one, I called my provider, who, for legal reasons, must remain nameless (not joking).

The "Provider," as I will refer to them throughout this post, gave me a new phone, on the condition that I sign a 2-year contract extension. Having been with the same provider, and the same phone number for over 7 years, I figured I wouldn't be changing, so I went ahead and did it.

I got my new phone, and all was well. Then, one day, the phone started turning off intermittently. Annoyed, I called the Provider again, and told them of my issue. They were cordial, and sent me a replacement phone.

Fast-forward two months, and I get a $106 charge on my bill. Irritated, I called the Provider and asked what the charge was for.

"Your new phone," they replied. "The old phone you sent us had "moisture damage," and therefore could not be returned for a replacement."

I told the guy that I've never exposed my phone to water by dropping it in the toilet or anything.

He replied that sometimes moisture damage can occur without submersion.

I told him that I live in the driest state in the country (Utah), and that there was no way any moisture was in there.

He responded by telling me that sometimes phones can get moisture damage from "regular use."

So by now, I'm pissed off. I tell him to send me proof of the damage.

"We can't do that."

I tell him I want the old phone back then.

"We can't do that."

"What can you do then?" I ask him.

"There's really nothing you or we can do."

So I summarized:

"Let me get this straight: You get me to sign a two-year contract extension, by giving me a phone that will get 'moisture damaged' by 'regular use.' Then, you refuse to offer me proof of damage, and refuse to send back my phone. And finally, you tell me I have no recourse?"

"Yes, sir. But what reason do we have to lie?"

"Uh, you just billed me another $100!!!"

"Sir, there's really nothing you can do."

But, I knew better...

For those who don't know, by trade, I am expert in online marketing. So, I put my skills to use.

I set up a website called (CompanyNameHere)Lawsuit.com. It cost me $6 a month, and I spent about an hour (while watching TV) one night setting it up.

The site explained my story, and allowed people in the same situation a chance to fill out a form and join a potential class-action lawsuit. I told Lessley that all I wanted was my money back for the phone, and out of my 2-year contract.

Then, I marketed it. I wrote a mock news article titled "(CompanyNameHere) May Face Class-Action Lawsuit," and posted it to news sites. I posted it in the "message board" section on the stock symbol page for the company at Yahoo! Finance, CNBC, MSNMoney, etc. I did a couple more things that I cannot disclose, as they are business secrets that I get paid for, but suffice it to say, I spent about 2 hours marketing my new site.

I had over 200 visitors a day on average in the 3 weeks the site was up. I got emails from lots of people with varying issues with the company.

Then, I got a call. The lady said she was with the legal department of the Provider. She asked some questions about my issue, and made sure she had the facts straight.

She told me she was happy to inform me that they were giving me my money back for the phone. And then, she politely asked me to take down the website.

I told her I would take it down if they would break my 2-year contract, and make my service month-to-month. She did, and asked how quickly I could take the site down. I told her it would only take 15 seconds, but I wouldn't do it until I had it in writing.

I got the fax about 20 minutes later, and the battle was won!

But not the war...

About 3 weeks later, the new phone also broke!

Now, I'm preparing for the next battle.

Stay tuned...it could be rough.

Ryan

Introducing Myself

2007-10-14T21:10:00.000-07:00

Why am I writing a blog? Will anybody read it? If a blog is written in the woods, and nobody is there to read it, is it really ever written?

These are questions I'm ignoring as I write this blog.

Actually, writing is part of my trade, and it's actually very therapeutic. So even if nobody reads my blog, at least I'll get something out of it.

Since I know you're dying to learn more about me, here it goes:

My name is Ryan Teeples. I'm a business entrepreneur living in Lehi, UT.

I was born in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming, where my Dad is from (and no, he is not a cowboy, he doesn't where boots, I'm pretty sure he's never rode a buckin' bronco, and to my knowledge he doesn't even own a gun).

My family moved to the Central Coast of California when I was 7, and I lived most of my formative years in Santa Maria, famous for strawberries, tri-tip steak, and the Michael Jackson trial.

When I was in high school, my parents ruined my life when they told us we were moving to Utah (OK, it just seemed like that at the time. Looking back, I'm VERY glad it happened). We moved to Orem, UT, and I went to Orem High. My first day there I couldn't find gangs, drugs or minorities. It was certainly a culture shock coming from a school that was only 40% white and had gang fights break out during pep rallies.

While in high school, I started my career as a journalist for a local newspaper, covering local high school sports. I was 16, writing for $2 a vertical inch. It was awesome. I was also the manager of the girls volleyball team, which as you might have guessed, was totally sweet.

I graduated from Orem High without honors, and by some miracle was accepted to BYU. I moved out of my parent's house (I was only 17...crazy) and moved into Deseret Towers at BYU, where I was a summer sports camp counselor (Best job in the world. I did it for 3 summers).

I lived at the Glenwood (pronouced: Glen - hole) as a freshman, where my best friend from California was my roommate. We pulled lots of crap down there, and had a blast. BYU football went 14-1, and the basketball team won just 1 game. It was awesome.

Academically, it was not so awesome. I took hard classes, early in the morning, and I can kind of remember going sometimes. I managed like, a 2.1 my first semester, and that was with a volleyball class and a guitar class buoying things.

So I ignored my academic career and focused on playing the guitar and sleeping in.

After a year at BYU, I transferred to UVSC (UVHS to the locals), where all my friends were going. Suddenly I was a genius and even got a scholarship (Funny story about that I will blog about later. UVHS has come a long way).

I got back into writing and took a job at the newspaper again. Then, I decided to go on a religious mission. Then, playing basketball (which I wasn't supposed to be doing because I was rehabbing my knees), I broke my finger and had to have surgery, which pushed my mission back.

But I finally got my mission call in May of 1998, and I was called to Columbia. Not the drug producing, war-torn banana republic (That's spelled with an "o"), but the city of Columbia, South Carolina.

While on my mission I learned many things about the gospel, southern culture, wal-mart and I even learned to understand and speak the southern languages.

I came home and enrolled again at UVSC, where, as fate would have it, I took a writing class. In that class there was a a blonde girl, who couldn't figure out the computer, and the whole Internet thingy (BTW: She now has it figured out, WAY too well. Can you say ebay and KSL?).

Gallantly, I swiveled my chair over to her, and in a sexy deep voice said, "You're typing your name wrong."

Once she entered the correct name (Lessley Mangone), everything worked. And I continued to work it. Next time in class, I was looking at movie start times for a date I had, and we started talking. We were chatting about a specific movie, and she said "You should go see it." But I heard: "WE should go see it."

So I was like, "how about Tuesday," and she was like "I can't do it Tuesday," so I was like "What about Wednesday," and she was like "How willing are you to do homework for me," and I was like, "Depends what happens after the homework," and she was all like "Kiss me now!" and I was like "Dude, not until after the movie, or at least the opening credits."

Maybe I don't remember it word-for-word, but that's the gist of it. We went to dinner at Los Hermanos, and to the movie "Return to Me" at the Provo Movies 8 ("the Eight" to locals).

From there, she was smitten, and a year later we got married.

We lived in Provo, UT for the first couple years, while I worked in marketing for a Fortune 500 company called Henry Schein (NASDAQ: HSIC). I was recruited a while later to a marketing agency, where I worked for a couple more years.

I was a bit bored, so I interviewed for a position with a company called Investools (NASDAQ: SWIM), where I quickly rose to Senior Director and became part of the senior management team. I learned a LOT in my 4 years there, and then realized my great ideas were making the company rich, and while I was grossly overpaid, I still wanted to get the big score for myself.

So about 8 months ago, I quit the corporate life and started a marketing/publishing company. I love the thrill of starting and growing new business (and helping other companies do the same) and I continue to pursue new business ventures.

Lessley and I have two beautiful children: (I promise, look at the picture) Eli, who is almost 3, and Hallie who is 3 months. You can learn all about Lessley, Eli and Hallie on Lessley's blog at wetheteeples.blogspot.com.

I'm a lover of Brigham Young University sports, and my fall is devoted to football. I enjoy playing basketball, guitar, reading working (yes, I love my job) spending time with the family, and my other family, The Simpsons.

So, now that I've really bored you to tears, check out my observations, rants, thoughts, ideas and other miscellanea I will post on this blog.

Ryan