In doing a lot of flying back and forth this month, I've become familiar with the following terms:

DESCENT TINKLE - The sudden urge to pee induced by the pilots informing the cabin of their plans to descend to the destination.

FLIGHT VOCAB INTOLERANCE - The absolute malice felt towards words like "placard." Just call it a sign already.

PRESSURE ALE - Be honest, when else do you drink ginger ale?

LAME ICE BREAKERS - When, even though you know it's lame, you still decide to ask the person next to you, "Are you coming or going?" This goes into the annuals of such horrible ice breakers as "What's your major?" and "Come here often?"

TOO COOL - Even though the flight crew politely asks you to open up the safety card in the seat pocket in front of you and follow along, you just can't do it (for no other reason than you feel it will make you look uncool).

PANIC MOMENT - The feeling you experience during that very nano-second that your eyes send the signals to your brain connecting the number of your seat and the highly unattractive person sitting right next to it.

PRACTICALLY DRAWN ON - The guy in the United Airlines safety video who has the most perfectly-shaped goatee possible.

THE STAND AND WAIT - As soon as the plane stops at the dock, the desire to instantly stand up - as if you are even going to be able to move off the plane for another ten to fifteen minutes.

LAVATORY FRIGHT - The scared sensation you get just before you flush the toilet on the plane because you can't help but wonder if that story you heard when you were a kid about the lady who got all her innards sucked out of the plane cause she flushed while sitting down was really true.

Behold, the monkey walk.

You gay? Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cool thing: While I'm out in LA working on Volkswagen TV commercials I get to drive a nice VW like the Touareg or the Passat 3.6.

Uncool thing: Both of those cars have been unavailable for the past week so I've had to drive the bright yellow Beetle.

Stop, collaborate and listen. Steve is back with a brand new mix tape.

I've formulated a concoction of twelve fresh jams for your listening pleasure. So, pour yourself something luke warm, download and unzip the files, crank the speakers and let us in blogland know what you think.

MixHappens Volume 2

I'm a sucker for cool alternative furniture.

I just turned my life completely upside down.

Last week, I arrived bright and early at LAX to board a flight back to Salt Lake City to close on our home that afternoon. Instead, I was met with a message telling me my flight had been cancelled. Three hours later. New flight. Also cancelled. At this point, I called Hailey to ask about rescheduling our closing time to later that day. She called. No dice.

Six hours later, I got on a flight destined for the great Salt Lake. I touched down approximately 12 minutes before our closing time. Thanks to my lead-foot friend, Mark I made it. Nice drivin' Mark.

Next day. Moving company showed up and took all of our stuff. Only needed 1/4 of the truck. We were left with an empty feeling and an empty heart. And, thankfully, a blow-up mattress.

Next day. We set off into the rising sun down I-80. What was supposed to be a simple 7-hour drive turned into a 10+ hour drive from the underworld. Three hailstorms, seven construction zones, one flaming semi truck and two temper tantrums later, we arrived in the dead of night in Colorado.

The night before, I had confirmed a stay at the Holiday Inn Express in Lafayette, CO via the web. As I followed the directions that were given me I couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of skepticism. When I reached the distination, I looked up to see the motel. Instead, I saw some cows, fields and a couple vintage broken down tractors.

I called.

HOLIDAY INN GUY: Hello, thanks for calling Holiday Inn Express. How may I help you?

ME: Yeah, I'm trying to find you. I followed the map and can't see you anywhere.

HOLIDAY INN GUY: First off, what state are you in?

*heart sank*

ME: Colorado.

HOLIDAY INN GUY: Sir, we're in Lafayette, Indiana.

ME: Indiana?

At that moment, I looked over to my dear wife who was listening in from the passenger seat to see one of the most depressed and irritated expressions ever. Fortunately, the guy cancelled my reservation without any penalties on account of the fact that it was an error on their website. Unfortunatley, he couldn't be of any assistance in helping me find a new place to stay that night. It was too late to stop and ask for help as everything was closed. Eventually, we found something.

We crashed.

The next day, I awoke to my daughter singing "Happy Birthday" to me. Unfortunately, it was that singing that reminded Hailey of the occasion. She was forgiven instantly. Bless her black and blue heart.

But I'm happy to report that we finally closed on our new home and moved in. I use that term lightly as most of our stuff is still in the garage.

But, we made it.

I only wish I was able to be there to help Hailey and the kids get settled in. Instead, I'm back out in LA shooting TV commercials. Meanwhile, Hailey is dating the mailman.

Three decades and still going.

Today, I turned 30. We celebrated by unloading a million boxes.

Me casa es nuevo casa.

After much searching and deliberation, the Happens family finally found a new place to call home. Delightfully positioned on Lucca Drive, this two-story domicile will serve as the headquarters for our family affairs and memories. While currently unfinished, the basement will soon serve as our guest headquarters, so consider this blog post and open invitation to all those who would like a little Boulder in their lives. And since I'm blogging this from Los Angeles right now, allow me to speak in the native tongue, "Me casa es nuevo casa es su casa."

Do the sideburns stay or do they go?

In three days I will board a flight back to my family in Utah. While my two little children will offer open arms regardless of my appearance, something tells me the Mrs. won't be so liberal in her embrace - that is if I still have these homeless man sideburns going on. But perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps these burns are nothing short of amazingly sexy. Who knows? So I offer the issue to you, oh blogland. Do the chops stay or do they go? And why?

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