lyin' in bed just like owen wilson did

Have you heard? Owen Wilson's recent trip to the hospital was an apparent attempted suicide. The few details that have officially been released are in this MSN article.

It makes me sad to think that this funny man could sink so low and feel so down that he wants to take his own life. It makes me sadder to view the horrible cinematic lineup he has slated for the coming months. Working on buddy Vince Vaughn's sloppy seconds. Costarring with Jason Schwartzman? Come on! It's no wonder the guy is depressed.

Where is Jacki Chan when you really need him?

due diligence post

I’m now sharing an office with three people. This has actually been the case for awhile now, but I’ve finally accepted that my fortress of solitude has been breached and it’s time to take action. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all great…er, fine at least. There’s only so much pointless small talk and office banter I can take though. If I’m within earshot of the sales guy saying “due diligence” one more time I can’t be responsible for what I do. 137 times in one day is just too much. And 137 times a day every day is slow, time-released suicide. The phrase is haunting me. I’m waking up in the middle of the night, cold sweat on my brow, worried that I haven’t done my due diligence. What does that even mean!?!

I thought my savior had come in a moment of inspiration. I remembered that I had headphones stuffed in a cabinet somewhere. I don’t bring CDs to work and I don’t have an iPod. That really leaves just one option—streaming.

There are a few problems with this. The first is that there is too much selection out there, too many online stations. The second is that each selection is far too narrow. And the third problem is that the narrow selections are generally pretty bad. All Barry Manilow, all the time. Beatles Mania. (Yes, there is such a thing as too much Beatles.) Hip hop ‘til you drop: Exclusively Hammer.

The one I actually listen to is the 80s station .977. I like 80s music. Men at Work, Divo, HoJo, Cindy Lauper and Salt ‘n Peppa are quintessentially 80s and should all be in the Music Hall of Fame. Heck, I’ll even go for a little Kenny Loggins if I’m feeling dangerous…and a little sentimental…and in the mood to eat Taco Bell with a one-eyed quarterback from Chicago. But why can’t .977 play more than 20 songs? Flashdance is a classic, but if I hear the theme song one more time, Irene Cara’s going to be doing more than dancin’ for her life—she’ll be runnin’ for it because I’ll be chasing her in a postal-esque rage.

Listening to my office mates causes homicidal tendencies, and Prince on repeat doesn’t offer desperately needed solace. So what’s the solution? I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with finding inner peace through zen meditation…and earplugs.

darron of springfield

Have you seen www.simpsonizeme.com? Burger King (boo) is sponsoring the site to promote the new Simpsons movie (yeah). This is what I'll look like when I appear on The Simpsons.

I'm not going to be on The Simpsons. Would be cool though...unless I was on one of the Halloween ones, which would just be disturbing.

for those of you who missed it

Did you know that you know someone famous...well, who was recently on tv? Yep, Kristen's story about Vonage aired on Colorado 2 News a week ago Thursday.

You can read the article and view the clip here.

snape

Okay world, consider this my Harry Potter coming out post. Not that it's a big secret to the readers of this blog...

Kristen and I recently went to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It was great! The reviews from respected critics were mixed, and most said that there was way to much build for such a little and short payoff. I disagree, but then I'm a Potter fan.

In preparation for the movie, Kristen reread book 6. This led to a discussion about whether Severus Snape is basically good or bad. I argue that he's more good than bad. Kristen isn't so sure, but I think she leans my way. Our friend Rebecca seemed repulsed at the idea that Snape could be anything other than the epitome of evil. The girls argued about this for a little while. The debate was passionate, the opponents adamant. Rebecca's husband Evan thinks we're all big geeks. And maybe we are, but we are not alone.

I just happened into this MSN article about this very topic. It doesn't really say anything terribly innovative, but it lends some credibility to our discussion. So Rebecca, check it out and see that we're not alone in our stance. And Evan, read the article and know that even if we're all big dorks, at least you know that there are bigger ones out there. Oh, and if this article isn't enough, I'll tell you about the whole IT department at Wordbank quizzing me about the movie and asking how many copies of the book I pre-ordered.

ouchie

This is one of the most horrific, terrifying and generally fascinating pictures I've ever seen.


Well dude, you get what you get when you run with the bulls. Brilliant.

is this a title?

CCC just posted that Blogger no longer accepts titles. This is my test.

father's day

I had a great Father's Day--my first official. It was comforting to realize that even though I now have a child of my own, and therefore don't have to feel silly for standing in church to receive the Father's Day treat, nothing else is different. I don't mean at home. Lots was different at home. Kristen made me breakfast in bed, took care of the baby, gave me presents and a card and just generally made it feel like a special day. That was wonderful. The part that doesn't change happens outside the house.

It is a well-known fact to members of the church that on Mother's Day there are sentimental talks about the sacredness of motherhood and personal stories of the speaker's own mom. The primary children will file up to the front and serenade their moms with an emotional rendition of Mother, I Love You. All women who are 18 years or older will then receive some kind of thoughtful gift; a flower, book or treat of some description.

It is also well known that on Father's Day, the congregation can expect a service devoted to Fatherhood. It usually takes a different tone however. This year did not disappoint.

The main message of the meeting was that the men in the chapel ought to straighten up and fly right. No kudos for a job well done. No heartwarming stories about dads-gone-by. Just an implicit reprimand, backed up by scripture. I admit that the speaker got misty when speaking of her own father. She choked back a lump in her throat as she told us that her dad never said 'I love you' and never went to a single one of her basketball games. Aww, so sweet.

At long last her talk was over and the children were ushered forward to sing. At least the kids will convey a loving message about their dad's who are sitting within spitting distance, right? Wrong. Instead they sang I Am a Child of God. So, on Father's Day they sang a song about how they have a better dad in Heaven...great. It may have been better to just be spit on.

There was redeeming value in the meeting though. We got cookies.

guest room relegation

Kristen's having a board meeting downstairs with all leaders in the Founders Ward Young Women's Organization. That means that every chair in our house is crammed down into our tiny kitchen. And that means that I'm confined* to the upstairs rooms...without any chairs.

So here I am, kneeling on the floor of the guest room, typing this. Is that dedication or what?

*Kristen told me that I could watch TV downstairs, but somehow I'd feel like a real jerk watching reruns of Friends 10 feet away from the council gathered around my dining table.

a family-friendly game

My baby girl has developed a new game, the rules of which I'm just beginning to understand. It's something we play when I feed her solids. Her mom plays too, but she gets more practice than I do and is much better.

OBJECT
The object of the game is to shovel tiny spoonfuls of pureed food into Emma's mouth as quickly and methodically as possible.

Once you get the right rhythm down, it goes pretty smoothly--Get the food, wipe the spoon, move to mouth, feed. Get the food, wipe the spoon, move to mouth, feed. It helps to repeat this mantra while acting it out.

RULES
If you cannot keep this pace, or if the food is too coarse, or there's too much carrot and not enough apple sauce or if Emma gets distracted by the window then the second round of the game starts--defence.

For every cycle that is off, she sticks two fingers from her right hand into her mouth. When this occurs, the other player is blocked from completing the cycle and must return to the start position of 'get the food.'

OPTIONAL VARIANT
The block may be followed by a typically short, but sometimes lengthy wail directly preceding the 'feed' part of the cycle.

END
The game ends when:
(a) all food has moved from the bowl into the baby's mouth, onto her bib/clothing/face, or onto the floor.
(b) the baby's arm is reflexively drawn into her mouth repeatedly until feeding is no longer possible and fingers are only partially removed for crying.

WARNING
Should scenario (b) occur, please consult the nearest Mother, as she is better equipped to restart and successfully complete the game.

a fish called emma

On a recent vacation to the great state of Utah, I discovered something about my daughter--she's a fish. I arrived at this controversial conclusion after analysing her behavior patterns as they relate to swimming and eating, and by noting other characteristics that are irrefutably fishy.


As you can see in the image (photo courtesy of Cindy Alley and Verizon Wireless), Emma exhibits classic fish-like behavior. She is disturbed by the blinding heat ray drying the moisture off of her. And she LOVES the water. While other children were crying and otherwise being irritating to all patrons of the historic Bountiful bubble, she was serene and comfortable drifting in the current. Kristen took turns with Emma's cousins wading with her through the lazy river for about 40 minutes. She was happy as she could be to feel the temperate water ebb and flow around her.

What other evidence do I have of her being a fish, you ask? Well, there's eating. While on vacation she started eating solid food. Having watched Kristen work to satiate the hunger of a girl possessed--excitedly screaching and flailing with enthusiasm for food--and having fed her a few times myself, I'm confident that Emma would eat herself to death, if allowed, just like a fish. (Were there enough commas in that last sentence?) Seriously, this girl can put it away. Feeding her would not be nearly so much work if she wouldn't grab hold of the spoon and jam it into the back of her throat with all the force her tiny arms can muster.

Speaking of baby spoons, what an amazing idea! The end of the spoon, the part that goes in your mouth, is insulated in rubber. This rubber end serves two purposes. Not only is it safe for just such a circumstance as I described above, but it is a useful squeegee to get food off of kids' faces. Why don't they make these for adults? We have adult diapers, and I think it's high time we had insulated adult spoons too.

Anyway, by the time Emma is finished with her double portion of rice cereal she looks like she's about to pop. Honestly, her stomach is completely distended. Fortunately she's a 5 month old baby, and big ol' bellies are cute at that age. It still looks painful though. If I looked like that after a meal I'd have to lay down for two or three days until I could sweat it off. She, on the other hand, seems disappointed that there's no more. She'd definitely eat herself to death.

The final point that I'd like to make in my assertion that my baby is a fish is this, she is very slippery when wet. I have experienced this first hand when bathing her...and nearly dropping her 4 feet to the tile floor. She gets all squirmy and slimy from the soap and water. Have you ever tried to catch a fish with your bare hands? It's exactly the same thing. Now I know what you're thinking. So what! Pigs are slippery when they are all wet and soapy too. But think of my other support. That's right, more support that she's a fish. Besides, look at this picture and tell me she's a pig, I dare you.

i am the walrus

...and by walrus, I mean outsourced worker in a third-world country. This is the impression I get, anyway, when speaking with my British counterparts at work. We've had a manager imported from London to help set up the office in Denver. While this person is lovely and polite in every way, he has a habit of saying things like, "Everything here is dirt cheap!" He is ecstatic when he's able to go out to dinner for under $50. He carries bills around like Monopoly money. Apparently things are so cheap in America that Brits will fly to NYC for the weekend to do their Christmas shopping! Even with the price of airfare and lodging it's less expensive than just buying gifts in London.

One of the big-wigs was here not long ago. He callously declared that he won't be hiring people in the UK anymore because he can get two of us for the price of one of them. Excuse me? Did I hear you say you're giving me a freaking huge raise? It's worthless green paper to you anyway, right?

As an IT team we are constantly evaluating what can be sent to our counterparts in the Philippines because they work for so little. I'm beginning to understand that I am only the next rung up from the bottom of a very tall ladder.

What's happened to the economic leader of the free world? Our dollar is practically worthless next to euros, pounds, and soon even the Chinese yuan. Who are we to make economic sanctions against Iran and North Korea? They should feel about as threatened by us as we would by Mexico closing its borders. How motivating would that be!?! Oh we're really sorry, Mexico. We'll stop our uranium enrichment; just please don't cut us off from the amazing chewing gum and Tijuana blankets we've come to depend on. Come on. The so called axis of evil should be much more afraid that England or Germany might cut them off than America.

I've been listening to my coworker flippantly comment on the hard truth about the value of the American dollar for some time now. I'm finally coming to terms with it, and I think I'm okay with it. I just have to keep reminding myself that if England or any other country gets too far ahead of us economically and doesn't want to ally anymore, we'll just declare war on them. Or worse yet, we'll rename their foods to something beginning with "freedom." Blood pudding sounds pretty gross, but I could definitely go for some freedom pudding with my freedom fries.

boldness for boldness

The History

In the past, my wife and I have been what some would call push-overs. Overwhelmed by a sense of social responsibility, Christian kindness and common courtesy we would often take 'the high road' and allow others to take advantage of us. This advantage-taking happened in several ways. Someone might have pushed us into doing something we didn't want to do. We may have allowed someone to go on and on when we didn't have time for a lengthy conversation. We may even have permitted others to take money we didn't really have just to avoid a conflict.

Well, that's all history now. Some time ago, we realized that allowing someone to take advantage of us was a disservice to both them and us. That's when we developed the idea outlined below.

The Theory

To ensure equitable and effective communication it is necessary for each party to speak with an equal degree of boldness. Oftentimes, one party (A, for our purposes) will exhibit greater submissiveness, humility, weakness, quiet, contentedness or exhaustion. In these cases, A must alter his/her boldness to match the other (B). Following this pattern will result in less confusion between A and B, and both will be more satisfied with the end result.

The Application

Allow me to provide a few illustrations.

1. A salesperson calls in the middle of dinner because he knows that's when he'll find us at home. We don't know this person. We don't care what he's selling--or worse, we know what he's selling and we are decidedly not interested. This telemarketer is particularly good at his job though. He knows that if he only takes breaths in the middle of a sentence, rather than at the end like a normal person, he is much less likely to be interrupted by the victim on the other end.

In times past, we would listen patiently, then angrily as he finished his 3 minute pitch. Then we would politely say, "No thank you. We're not interested." At that point, the salesperson knows he can dive into his second bit and we'll listen like the suckers we are.

Now, we understand that he understands that he is being amazingly bold, if not downright rude, by calling during our coveted time together. He is also bold to speak in a way that does not invite discussion, but steamrolls us instead. Applying our theory, we are obligated to cut him off (probably mid-sentence as it's really the only time to get a word in) and tell him we're not interested and to stop calling; then promptly hang up.

It can work the other way around too. Sometimes people are very meek as they approach or otherwise communicate with us. Their boldness level is much lower than his in the previous example.

2. *A friend calls us up and asks somewhat sheepishly whether we are willing to babysit her beautiful, little girl for a couple hours so that she can go to a movie with her husband. Obviously this person respects our time and is a little embarrassed to be asking this huge favor of us. We match her boldness by returning genuine kindness and, if possible, by accepting.

This circumstance is sadly rarer than the first. Our friends are great--this isn't about that. It's just a fact of life that a given person talks to many more strange jerks hefting their boldness around than friends whom they understand and who understand them.

3. A kid on the street, pretending to be homeless, but who is obviously trying to scrounge money to buy some pot and get back to Boulder stops my pregnant wife to ask her for money.

In times past, I would have politely said, "Sorry, man. We just don't have any cash."

Now, I would unflinchingly grab him by his dreadlocks and repeatedly pull his face into my balled, hardened fist. Wait, is that too bold?...No way!

Actually, I was quite proud of Kristen. She just threw her hands up in the air and gave the guy a look like, "Are you that retarded? Are you really stopping a pregnant woman in your smoke to try and bum a quarter? Get lost!"

The Summary

After painful reflection, Kristen and I realized that when someone bullied us in conversation or otherwise 'forced' us to acquiesce, it was actually our fault--we were the guilty ones. Those irritating people probably don't even know they're irritating. They just figure nobody around them has any kind of opinion. It is our obligation to instruct people how they must interact with us. However, when strangers exhibit outstanding boldness, it is typically futile to try and instruct them.

"Okay, what did you say your name was? Okay, Bill. If we are going to have a real discussion about whether I want a time-share in Costa Rica you're going to have to breathe a little more between sentences."

Ya, that'll work. No, it is much more effective to just speak to his level. Unfortunately, it's an uncomfortable place for us to be a lot of the time because of afore-mentioned qualities and principles. I must say though, I get more comfortable with it all the time.


*Yes, Adamses. This is a backward representation of our conversation earlier.

more vegetables, please

Big tobacco has been taking it in the shorts for a long time over the moral debate about whether it's ethical to chemically enhance the effectiveness of the nicotine drug to create an addiction in their consumers and ultimately contribute to the unhealthiness of Americans. There have been legislation and litigation which have cost the stake holders and tax payers billions over the years. That's not to mention the lives ruined by cancer and more direct death threats. How can I substantiate these arguments? Two words--The Insider. Great flick, and very informative. Also, this Google search proved quite useful.

I think there is something to learn from this whole dilemma. Big business should not be allowed to purposefully cause their consumers to become addicted to harmful substances. Harmful substances. So I propose something radical. Let's use the same principles we've been battling against to do something good. Let's use these potent drugs (i.e. nicotine, cocaine) to push something everyone needs and no one wants--lima beans.

I'm not sure exactly how to work out the logistics of it, but I think it would involve growing our little lima-green friends in caffeinated water along with a wicked marketing campaign that is sure to cost millions in advertising dollars. But that money would be recouped quickly once the craze began. And here's the best part. We'd follow the example of our cigarette forbears and wouldn't tell anyone that we're adding addictive substances until after we've all lied about it before a grand jury. Then we'd all sit back and have a good laugh about how 10 years ago nobody would have touched a lima bean with a ten-foot pole, but now we all keep a spare can in the trunk of the car just in case we need a quick fix.

If all it took was a little nicotine to convince the masses that inhaling burning tobacco is something they can't live without, just think of the food we could manipulate our children into eating using the same business plan. Cocaine-laced okra sound tempting to anyone? Maybe not now, but it will.

recompense

I recently posted a slanted article which obviously singled out Al Gore as a hypocrite and idiot. It also obviously upset my entire fan base. So...here is a letter which I found quite funny and somewhat disturbing, and I hope it will be accepted in the spirit by which it is given. True bipartisanship? No, non-partisanship.

John Cleese's Letter to America

To the citizens of the United States of America

In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories (except Kansas , which she does not fancy), as from Monday next.

Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary.
Then look up "aluminium," and check the pronunciation guide.
You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

2. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour', 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise."

3. You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra'; you may elect to respell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you find you simply can't cope with correct pronunciation.

4. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels (look up "vocabulary"). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

5.There is no such thing as " US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."

6. You will relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen", but only after fully carrying out Task #1 (see above).

7. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England . It will be called "Come-Uppance Day."

8. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

9. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

10. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

11. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric immediately and without the benefit of conversion tables.
Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

12. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling "gasoline") - roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.

13. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with mayonnaise but with vinegar.

14. Waiters and waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

15. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer," and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." American brands will be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine," so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

16. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

17. You will cease playing American "football." There is only one kind of proper football; you call it "soccer". Those of you brave enough will, in time, will be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

18. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the "World Series" for a game which is not played outside of America . Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.

19. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

20. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due backdated to 1776.

Thank you for your co-operation.

John Cleese

al gore: mega-conservationist

This is an article from the Drudge Report.



POWER: GORE MANSION USES 20X AVERAGE HOUSEHOLD; CONSUMPTION INCREASE AFTER 'TRUTH'
Mon Feb 26 2007 17:16:14 ET

Nashville Electric Service/Gore House

2006

High 22619 kWh Aug – Sept
Low 12541 kWh Jan - Feb
Average: 18,414 kWh per month

2005

High 20532 Sept - October
Low 12955 Feb - March
Average: 16,200 kWh per month

Bill amounts

2006 – $895.60 (low) $1738.52 (high) $1359 (average)
2005 – $853.91 (low) $1461 (high)

Nashville Gas Company

Main House
2006 – $990(high) $170 (low) $536 (average)
2005 – $1080 (high) $200 (low) $640 (average)

Guest House/Pool House

2006 – $820 (high) $70 (low) $544 (average)
2005 – $1025 (high) $25 (low) $525 (average)

The Tennessee Center for Policy Research, an independent, nonprofit and nonpartisan research organization, issued a press release late Monday:

Last night, Al Gore’s global-warming documentary, An Inconvenient Truth, collected an Oscar for best documentary feature, but the Tennessee Center for Policy Research has found that Gore deserves a gold statue for hypocrisy.

Gore’s mansion, [20-room, eight-bathroom] located in the posh Belle Meade area of Nashville, consumes more electricity every month than the average American household uses in an entire year, according to the Nashville Electric Service (NES).

In his documentary, the former Vice President calls on Americans to conserve energy by reducing electricity consumption at home.

The average household in America consumes 10,656 kilowatt-hours (kWh) per year, according to the Department of Energy. In 2006, Gore devoured nearly 221,000 kWh—more than 20 times the national average.

Last August alone, Gore burned through 22,619 kWh—guzzling more than twice the electricity in one month than an average American family uses in an entire year. As a result of his energy consumption, Gore’s average monthly electric bill topped $1,359.

Since the release of An Inconvenient Truth, Gore’s energy consumption has increased from an average of 16,200 kWh per month in 2005, to 18,400 kWh per month in 2006.

Gore’s extravagant energy use does not stop at his electric bill. Natural gas bills for Gore’s mansion and guest house averaged $1,080 per month last year.

“As the spokesman of choice for the global warming movement, Al Gore has to be willing to walk to walk, not just talk the talk, when it comes to home energy use,” said Tennessee Center for Policy Research President Drew Johnson.

In total, Gore paid nearly $30,000 in combined electricity and natural gas bills for his Nashville estate in 2006.

For Further Information, Contact:
Nicole Williams, (615) 383-6431
editor@tennesseepolicy.org

ticks that make me tick

In response to a recent challenge to reveal my deep, dark secrets of idiosyncratic behavior I'm laying out the list.

1. There is a compulsion deep inside of me which forces me to exhaust the usefulness of every toiletry in the house. For example, it is not enough to simply squeeze out toothpaste. There is an art to laying the tube flat on the counter and systematically pushing and rolling so as to utilize every ounce of the peppermint goodness.

2. I bite my nails. It's not pretty, and it's not easy to admit, but it's true. I stopped once in the fourth grade. I had a good month or so of freedom from my addiction, but I just couldn't keep the monkey off my back. (Frankly, who'd want to put any more distance between themselves and a monkey than they had to anyway?)

3. Arriving anywhere late makes me crazy. This is a result of being raised by a militant father who could not stand for such slackery. He would drive away while you were on the driveway, walking toward the car, if you were one minute later than the designated departure time for x. You can fill in the blank there: x=church or school or your own Eagle Court of Honor, whatever.

I'm sure I could go on and on about my OCD (an unofficial point 4, perhaps?), but I'll leave it there for now. I don't want to disillusion my readers too much by completely unveiling the man behind the curtain. We can't lose all the magic of Oz at one sitting now, can we?

my girl slash girls

tires, horses and rubber duckies

Fast and Testimony meeting is great. And it can be great for different reasons. I always enjoy hearing members of my congregation get up and bear their testimonies about principles of the gospel. It's uplifting and even necessary for me to hear others talk about their convictions.

Yesterday, church was great for an entirely different reason. I was in an admittedly bad mood upon arriving at the building. I was tired and hungry and not in the mood to be anywhere other than curled up on the couch with my wife watching a mind-numbing TBS special. Be that as it may, I did my best to be a good member of the church and went anyway, determined to have a positive experience. Little did I know that my very determination was to be my Abrahamic trial of the day.

The opening hymn was nice. The meeting opened with a sincere plea for the spirit. Two babies were blessed. Then the "fun" began. One after another, the crazies got up and "testified" of what they know is true. Apparently, one woman's testimony includes a long, drawn-out story about a trip to Utah and the phrase "air in the tires" repeated 57 times. Another person had a spiritual experience with the sale of her horse. Hmm... The self-proclaimed old woman of the ward related a story about when her grandson "pwaid (said in a self-appointed child's voice)," not prayed, he thanked God for 'wubbow duckies.' No one could have said it better, though, than the sweet sister who stood and recapped with perfect concision, "You know, we've heard many words today that testify of God's love for us. Tires, horses, rubber duckies... These are the things that let us know He loves us."

WHAT!?! "Where am I?" I think to myself. "Have I accidentally gone the the mental ward? Or am I the crazy one?"

Thankfully I was able to look over and see Kristen's confusion and surprise too. That's when the meeting really got fun for us. Yes it's true. The bishop could see the whole ugly display as we were sitting five pews from the front, red-faced with muffled laughs, but we had little choice. It came down to either leaving the church for fear of being counted one of the Castle Rock Crazies, or else remaining in the membership of the church and laughing at the insanity surrounding us.

I'm still proud to call myself a member.

a typical (atypical) conversation

Not long ago I was recruited to a localization company called Wordbank. They said that they took interest in me due to my linguistics degree and foreign experience. My first thought, "Wow, my linguistics degree wasn't a big waste of time." In my naivete, I believed that they valued my knowledge for the contribution I could make on various international projects. In reality, it had nothing to do with our processes. They knew that it would take all of my ability to just comprehend my British counterparts in the office. Here is a sample conversation:

me: (walking in first thing in the morning) Good morning, Simon.
Simon: (in a thick accent--think Eliza Doolittle before the refinement) Hey, Darron. How're you doing? You a'right?
me: Alright. How are you?
Simon: Not too bad. Not too bad. (always repeated twice)
Suddenly Simon looks up from his computer screen.
Simon: Are you okay, you look knackered.
me: What? Sorry I was kind of spacing out.
Simon: Had a bit of a late one with the biffer, did you? Up all night changing nappies?
me: No, it's just so cold out there that I think my brain is frozen.
Simon: Ya, It's not exactly cozzie weather, is it? You've got a jumper on, have you?
me: No, I forgot all of my warm clothes in my other car.
Simon: You're takin' a piss!
me: Yes, yes I am.

If you want to have a better chance of understanding this little convo, check out the glossary below:

Brito-Yank Glossary
knackered	tired
biffer	fatty (what Simon likes to call my baby)
nappies	diapers
cozzie	swim suit
jumper	sweatshirt
You're takin' a piss!	You're kidding!