Friday, January 27, 2006

It has often been said that a suit is just a suit until it's been put into action.

I decided to take this time-honored mantra to heart by road testing the suit at work. In doing so I found myself constantly surprised by its level of versatility. It quickly became an appropriate combination of fashion and function. The best of both worlds. Any task I put before it, it politely mocked and then conquered with relative ease.

Most vestments would approach the job of toasting pop tarts with much discretion. The combination of crust-encased molten puree and sprinkle kissed frosting spells disaster more often than not. The suit waverethed not. Sans hesitation, it toasted each pastry to a desired consumption temperature. And as if this wasn't enough, it even managed to pour a co-worked a friendly cup of coffee whilst mid toast. Impressive.

Copying. One of corporate America's unseasonable pastimes. Traditionally, said activity is appointed with such descriptors as boring, mundane, and monotonous. Not to the suit. With a sense of positivity unlike anything I've ever seen, the suit took to the task. Much like the multiplying of bread and fishes, the suit took a single document and turned it into 20 at the flick of a button. It then commanded the sea of onlooking co-workers to part as we delivered the holy documents to the boardroom.

One should not be surprised by the correlation of fine attire and wealth. The suit took my meager Wells Fargo checking account and turned it into a extensive portfolio of currency in the form of stocks, bonds, and other governmental monies. At this point, it would be very difficult to say just how much I'm worth. Suffice it to say, a lot.

Just because it's a suit, doesn't mean it's strictly business. The Tiawanese Dream proved that today by double fisting two bottles of grape sparkling cider and saying, "Let's get this party started right? Let's get this party started quickly, right?"

The creative review process is one filled with anxiety, emotions, and excitment. Typically, my critique and direction is met with laughter and weiner jokes. The suit isn't typical. One of my art directors, Spennywhistle came to me with a project he'd been working on for months. While presenting he said, "Steve, this is probably the best ad I've ever done, don't you think?" The suit replied, "Don't you mean, the worst?" leaving poor Spenny in a state of sorrow.

I was amazed at the multifaceted suit. Everything from traditional office chores, to the much more complex nature of physical punishment and breakdancing - all easily handled by the suit. But I certainly didn't expect it to handle blogging. It caressed the keyboard much like a seducer of maidens. Words poured from its silken majesty. It blogged like I've never blogged before. The wit, the charm, the suspense - all wrapped in a whirlwind of emotions and dreams.

Yes my friends, today was a good day. The suit was put to the test, and my every expectation was surpassed. From this moment on, I am not merely Steve. I am not just another person on a busy street. I am not a small fish in a big pond. I am not a silent passer by, begging for life's upper hand. No, my friends. From this moment on. I am...

The suit.

Thursday, January 26, 2006


Tucked lovingly on my back porch, my wife discovered the package from Tiawan. Little did we know the contents of which would change our lives forever. Behold, the suit.

Once put on, the suit demands a constant state of pose. It gives all those who wear it a sense of acclaim, even to the level of posting poker-faced GQ-esque pictures on the interweb, and feeling completely fine about it. Who am I to argue with the suit?

Sure, it's a nice lookin' suit, but how can we be assured of its promised high quality? Individualized!

The power of the suit is something I haven't even begun to comprehend. I'm finding myself overwhelmed by its Taiwanese necromancy. To the naked eye, it would seem nothing more than imported fabrics mingled with curious craftsmanship, but once experienced it becomes a portal to an eminent state of existence. I am the suit.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I often find my career field (the field of advertising) to be a melding concoction of perplexing affairs. Today's occurrence is no exception.

As some of you know, I've been working on the Utah Travel and Tourism account for some time now. This account brings with it the challenge to get more people to dedicate their precious vacation days to our little corner of the world. Obviously, this is much easier said than done. There are many misconceptions to overcome that are unique to this state. Of course there is the whole alcohol conundrum. The polygamy problem. The Mormon misfortune. And West Valley City. But thanks to a concerned citizen, we've been able to flip the coin and see the bright side to our test.


Of course. How could we have been so blind? What a golden opportunity. The following is his letter written to us just this week.

Dear (name withheld):

It's been nearly two and a half years since the Supreme Court invalidated Utah's archaic sodomy laws. In my opinion, that's plenty of time for your organization to implement a marketing plan to welcome sodomites, like me, back to your state. And yet I haven't seen a single brochure, pamphlet or website designated for this purpose.

It's worth mentioning that sodomy is a mainstream American activity. Consider that many of the defunct laws proscribed activities that are now downright vanilla by the standards of your average Desperate Housewife or former president.

I'm curious to know why your tourism industry has not stepped up to the plate and said, "Hey Brokebacks, c'mon back now, y'hear!" or something fun and hokey like that.

I don't think it's too much to ask. Please advise.

(Sodomite's name withheld)

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

For all of you who live within reach of FOX 13's morning show, I'll be making a guest appearance on tomorrow's segment featuring various creative advertisers from the region. I believe the ever-so vast, self proclaimed "Big Buddha" will be at the helm. More on this story at 11.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Strictly out of curiosity, does the following image intimidate any of you?

PS: It should.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Animated gifs are quite possibly one of life's most underrated miracles. Lucky for us, the superweb interhighway is chuck full of 'em. Behold some of my choice favs. Ratings are on a scale of 1 to 10 (ten being the highest)

Title: Chuck Norris Backhands a Lady | Stevehappens rating: 8.5

Title: Jack Black on Proper Pleasure Etiquette | Stevehappens rating: 12

Title: Stretch Pants iPod | Stevehappens rating: 5.5

Title: Catchin' A Hassellhoff | Stevehappens rating: 8.2

Friday, January 13, 2006

It is not uncommon to hear my wife critique my lack of ability to stand up for myself, specifically in the case of a questionable purchase. If a business were to wrong me in any way things like, "You've got to be more aggressive" and "You can't let them walk all over you like that?" are the first to escape her lips.

Well, this time it's different. This time it's personal. This time, it's the suit.

In deciding to take my wife's criticism to heart, I enlisted the help of my ball-bustin' friend, Jamie to do the dirty work. The following is the e-mail she sent. (Note: The edits in blue have been added for dramatic effect).

Hello you no-good, lying, piles of dirt-sucking butt punches,

A few weeks ago I was informed that my designer-knockoff suit which was still rather expensive, thank you very much order had already been sent to me but I still have yet to receive it, thus throwing me into an active rage of fury and destruction, of which I have no problem bringing down on your empire of lameness. Can you please provide a tracking number if possible? Otherwise, there are good odds that I'll be sending YOU a package of throat punches, only this package won't arrive on time. It'll be EARLY! It is for Steve Babcock in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Thank you! Jerks!

The following is their reply:

Dear Ms. Jamie,

Warm greetings from Bangkok. We sincerely apologise for the delay of Mr. Babcock's order. We would like to inform that we sent out his order since the middle of December, but unfortuntely, his parcel along with with other 14 parcels of our customers, are stuck at the customs in the U.S. Our courier company is in contact with the customs officials in the U.S. at the moment, and they are trying to have the parcels released as quickly as they can.

We hope to get a good positive feedback from them by early next week. Please be a little more patient. We will definitely inform you right away once the parcels are released, and will also compensate Mr. Babcock for the delay and inconvenience that this has caused. Thanking you.

Yours Sincerely,


We would like to inform that we sent out his order since the middle of December? Good postivite feedback? Thanking you?

I'm screwed.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

It's time for a SteveHappens word scramble!

Oh no! The following letters are scrambled. And it's up to you to unscramble them and figure out what they are trying to say! You must hurry!


The first person to solve this word scramble gets an open-mouthed kiss from yours truly.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Identity theft mingled with the strong scent of gasoline makes for my life right now.

Earlier tonight, Hailey and I sat down to officially set up our family budget (New Years Resolution). As we scanned through our bank statment we quickly started to notice random charges that neither of us could account for. Fifteen dollars here. Nine dollars there. I noticed one charge by FT*GRTFUN was accompanied by an 800 number. I decided to investigate by calling. I got an answering machine. "Thank you for calling Great Fun! Please leave a message." BEEP. "Yeah, while it may seem like Great Fun to randomly charge my account, could you please stop? Thanks." Confused I googled the 800 number. Suddenly, I was faced with page after page after page of links to blogs and messageboards containing posts from others around the globe who have fallen victim to said scam. I felt abused. I felt used. I felt naked.

Much like greased lightning, I called the number on the back of my Wells Fargo debit card. I was greeted by a customer service representative who apparently did not check the "I speak fluent English" box on his job application. Determined, I spoke slowly. After several minutes of "what was that?" and "Sorry, could you say that again?" my account was closed and a fraud report scheduled to be delivered.

Still I felt naked.

If only I had a nice knock-off designer suit to clothe my nakedness.

As I sat down to reflect on my victimization I thought to myself, certainly tonight couldn't get any worse that this. I was wrong.

All of a sudden, there was a loud knock on the door, quickly followed by repeated ringing of the doorbell. This was quickly followed by a flurry of bell/knock combos. Who the heck is at our door? Why are they being so obviously annoying? Do they have ANY idea that my kid is trying to sleep? Irritated, I opened the door.


With a voice that could wake sleeping kids in China, he entered. "Hello Steven, where's my daughter?" As he invited himself in and walked passed me a potent wall of gasoline punched me in the bread basket. *cough*

Hailey: Dad, what are you doing here?

Keith: I've got to pick up a snowmobile tomorrow.

Hailey: Why do you smell like gasoline?

Keith: The darn shut off valve at the gas station was broken. *sits down on my new couch*

Instantly, the fumes transformed into headache form. I couldn't take it. I relocated to the kitchen. It was no use. The scent must have predetermined my move and thus spread into the kitchen before I could get there. I was trapped. Nowhere was safe.

Keith (yelling from the living room, despite my sleeping child): Steve, where can I store some four wheelers?

Me: What do you mean?

Keith: I need to store a couple four wheelers in your garage for a few months.

Me: Actually, we don't have enough room in our garage for two four wheelers.

Keith: Well, I'll just put them in your back yard. They'll increase the value of your house. They'll make it easier to sell.

I wanted to reply to this, but for the life of me couldn't formulate an appropriate response. Somewhere between the incomprehensible nature of that comment and the formidable stench of fuel, my mind froze.

I still felt naked.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Tonight, my little daugher, Berlin, wanted to post an entry in my blog. So here she goes...

kkkkkkaslsllll ''0-0azzzzddf d djf39jafj

Now, for all of you who don't speak "little fingers," I'll translate.

"Hi everyone. I have an announcement to make. I'm going to be a big sister!"

Yup. It's true. Hailey and I are gonna give it another go in July. Wish us luck!

PS: No suit.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Suit status/update: No.

Monday, January 02, 2006

Hello 2006.

First of all, my condolences go out to the cashiers of the world. For the next few weeks, they will play subject to the following conversation.

CUSTOMER: Oh my! I accidentally wrote 2005 on my check.


CUSTOMER: I can't believe it's already 2006.


CUSTOMER: What happened to 2005? *light chortle*

CASHIER: *charity chortle*

Fortunately, I can shed some light on an otherwise infernal conundrum. I have developed a system that once applied, will bring peace to both customer and cashier. I call it the Line-A-Nator.

Financial advisors, professionals, and scientists recommend the use of ink as opposed to graphite when filling out a check, (or cheque if you wear fancy shoes). The reason for this is that graphite can be erased with relative ease and thus makes for effortless alteration. Ink, however, is permanent and thereby thwarts potential tampering. But what happens when you accidentally write the wrong date, specifically the year? Is the check wasted? Is it no good? Is it to receive the dreaded four capital letters written aggressively (and usually with a slight diagonal) across it? Thanks to the Line-A-Nator, not anymore.


Waste not that chegue (I'm wearing fancy shoes). Thanks to my one-step program, that form of currency does not have to be forfeited. By simply adding a vertical stroke to the lower left side of the five, you create the appearance of a six.


As you can see, like a harbinger of peace, the Line-A-Nator has cuddled the problem like a frightened child and soothed it to a blissful slumber. Now, make no mistake about it. I did not develop the Line-A-Nator for commercialization. And I'm not about to exploit its market value. No, in fact, this intellectual property is yours to keep, for free. Use it now and you'll also receive a lack of embarrassment, at no extra cost. Also, if you act fast, you'll receive the VibraComb - a stimulating way to style your hair. Offer good while supplies last. *Note: Supplies did not last.

That's a total value of a probably, like a billion dollars.