Sunday, December 30, 2012

The Arm Rest Anxiety


So I went to view the Hobbit opening night dressed up like Gollum, wearing only a loin cloth held together with dental floss. I have to be honest it wasn't a wise choice, it being December and all.

But I took my seat and found I was sitting next to an older gentleman and his wife. As I sit down, I notice that he hadn’t pulled down the arm rest that separated our two seats. 

I am not going to lie to you. It was uncomfortable. I was sitting extremely close on essentially a love seat, with someone I didn't know. And our legs were touching…not like “touching” touching,  but the fabric of our pants was touching.

 So I sat down thinking, well knowing, that this might be an issue for me, considering I have major personal space issues. How was I to enjoy the Hobbit with the fabric our pants touching and no discernible barrier between us?

 I could deal with this…(deep breath
Who am I kidding? I couldn't deal with this.

So I started an internal dialogue. You know the kind where outwardly you pretend to look peaceful like a river, but inside you are completely freaking out

“For the love of the Shire does this man not realize how close we are sitting? Does he not realize that the arm rest separates us into our own personal little comfort plots of movie enjoyment? Is this man insane?”

So I took a deep breath and said, 
“Ya know what, Rob? The movie hasn’t started yet. I am sure once the movie starts, he is going to drop that arm rest like it’s hot.”

So I crossed my legs and just pulled myself as far left, without injury myself, as I could.

So the coming attractions started, and guess what? The arm rest was still in the upright position. 

What in the what people?

So then I started thinking, this is serious now.  I have got to take matters into my own hands.  So then I started asking questions, very important societal questions which may lead into a further study of human personal boundary issues.
 Questions like:
  1. “Is is appropriate for me to pull down the arm rest?"
  2. "Will this man hate me if I pulled down the arm rest when it is clearly his responsibility to pull it down?"
  3.  "If so, will it make the movie less enjoyable, sitting next to someone who clearly hates me for violations of unwritten armrest polices and procedures?”

So the movie started and AT THIS POINT, i WAS ABOUT TO LOSE MY MIND

So finally I got up my courage and said,
 “Hey precious, can I pull this arm rest down.”

He nodded and then went back to his conversation and box of Fiddle Faddle.

I am not goin’ lie to you; I might over think things a little…or do I? 
Do you totally hate me for asking that? 
You totally hate don’t you?

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

The Halloween Faux Pas


I have never been a big “Halloween Guy”.  May be it’s because I had a bad experience in a haunted house or may be because my entire family was murdered on Halloween when I was 10. I don't know, it's hard to be sure, but for what ever reason I have always felt a disdain for Halloween and Halloween related activities. I just can't seem to embrace the fun of of it all.

Last Friday, we had an Office Halloween Party complete with a costume parade and trick-or-treating. So for the children I decided I would rise above my dislike for Halloween and give out candy to the kids that came through our office.

 At first it was tedious, but as the day wore on, I really started enjoying myself as I engaged in the parade of costumes.
Here is Iron Man”
“Look it’s the weird guy from Yo-Gabba-Gabba!”
“Oh look...It’s an adult belly dancer who needs to wear a more age appropriate costume next year. Good to see you...and I mean off all you.”

So by the end of the day I was really enjoying myself.  I was hopped up on candy and I was feeling great! I felt like a regular Willy Wonka, minus the weird eccentricities, the poofy hair…and the Umpa Loompas.

Towards the end of the day, I saw a child, who appeared to be 13 or 14, with long curly hair heading my way with a Spiderman costume on. So I shouted,
Watch out everyone here comes Spider-Woman.”
To which the child replied, 
“But I am Spider-MAN.”
“Oh course you are, honey. But because you are girl we would call you Spider-WOMAN. Oh isn't she precious?” I said turning to my coworkers.

Then the mother of the child gently cupped my elbow, and in an intense whisper, said, “This is my son. He is a male. He is Spider-MAN.”

A heavy awkward silence fell over the entire office.
I dropped some candy into his bag and they promptly left.
Where upon, I handed the candy bowl to my coworker, walked into my office and turned on some Christmas music.

Halloween...I hate you. And Kid...get a hair cut.





Thursday, October 25, 2012

The Awkward Pick Up


An interesting event happened to me last night that changed me in a deep and profound way for many minutes thereafter.

Last night I was sitting alone reading a book at a Latin culture event I was attending.

As I was sitting and reading my book, a beautiful woman kept looking at me from across the room. Of course I was flattered and gave her a smile back. Although, I didn’t speak her native language, I was pretty sure as to what was being communicated between us.

She started walking over to me, and it was just like something out of a movie. Time seemed to stand still as her hair billowed in the cooling breeze of the air compressor I was sitting on.

Her lips parted and she spoke, “Hi my name is Carmen. I hope this isn’t awkward, and I never do this, but I was wondering if you would like to...

She paused.
My thoughts raced, "Like to? You would like to what? Have my number? Bear my children? Slow dance to the gentle purr of the air compressor? What?"

 After what seemed to be a very long and pregnant pause, she said, “I was wondering if I could set you up with my MOM?"

To which I responded, “I would love to go out with you. Wait. What? Your mom? Whaaaa?” 

Really?  Really

I just stood there in silence, and told her I would have to think about it. I think my reaction must have been a physical manifestation of the air escaping from a birthday balloon.

What the heck people? I know I may not look like a twenty year old, but I know for darn sure, I am not to a point where I look like I should be set up with someone’s mom. 

Right?
Right?  
OK,Your silence is deafening.

It doesn’t matter what you think, I am still confident in my ability to attract people of my same age group.

This whole event has made me really made me rethink what kind of a vibe I am sending out to people. Maybe wearing a cardigan and smoking a pipe is not appropriate attire for my men in my age group.

I may need to pick up a bottle of Oil of Olay and Spanx on my way home tonight.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Zombie Attack Safeguards


So one of my friends told me to watch this TV show called the “Walking Dead”that is about zombies attacking the world. 

As I watch it I keep thinking, “Are zombies really a viable threat?”  Every time someone dies on the show from a zombie attack I have to do an exaggerated eye roll and say, “Um, sweet friends that death could have been completely avoided."

Here are some tips that I came up with to avoid being eaten by zombies, should the problem ever arise:

1-Shut Up and Run-Friends, it would be one thing if once if zombies developed some super human strength or could run really fast, but they can’t. Most of the time zombies are dragging a limb or other appendage behind them, so they can’t sneak up on you or run after you. So if you see a zombie, shut up and run, chances are they can’t out run you.

2-Boom Box It-So in “Walking Dead” the zombies supposedly are attracted to loud noises. So if you are living amongst zombies friends, always carry a huge 80’s style “ghetto blaster” with you at all times. If you ever get into a jam with a group of zombies, drop your ghetto blaster, push play and while the zombies are enchanted by the musical stylings of Kenny G, you can make an easy escape. No muss…no fuss.

3-Drive and Live in a HUGE RV - So these poor, sweet people in “Walking Dead” are driving around town in Jeeps with the tops off, and one guy has the gall to ride a motorcycle. They also feel like it is safe to camp outside for some odd reason. Really?(with my voice going up at the end.)

Friends, aren’t you asking to be eaten while spending so much time in the open? 9 out of 10 zombie survivalist say, "YES!"

If there are zombies running around your town friends, sneak over to RV Outlet, steal yo’ self a pimped out motor home and STAY INSIDE.  There is no reason we should spend time in the open at all. If zombies attack your motor home you can just run over them. Again, let’s not over think this.

4- Stadium of Fire- All the people in the show are worried how they will win the war against the zombies. And here’s me, “Ah, doy! It’s not rocket science people, geesh.”  

OK,here is what you do, you take your RV, slap some speakers up top, start playing Jock Jams Volume 4, lure the zombies to a football stadium lined with tar. The zombies feet will stick and they will get all stuck together. You light a match, and, boom, zombie problem taken care of. 

Then you go from town to town doing the same thing. And you could make t-shirts that say “Zombie Farwell Tour 2012” or something cute like that, I don’t know, you decide.

So friends don’t let the fear of a zombie attack keep you up at night…vampires are a whole other story. If “Twillight” has taught us anything, it is that a vampire attack is a very serious concern to the safety of society, unless you fall in love with one, and then it’s awesome.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Neighbor Gift


Friends, the holidays are rapidly approaching and as I have always said it is never too early to start stressing out about what to give for “neighbor’s gifts” this year.
If you are like me you don’t want to give bake goods again because let’s be honest, they end up in the trash. And last year I gave Costco muffins with the tag, “I’m getting’ “muffin” for Christmas” which was really cleaver, but it cost me like $12,000.00 to fund.

Well my good friends and crafting muses, down ta' Craft-acular, Krystal and Carol, introduced me to a fun and easy craft to give your neighbors this year. 

It’s a gift that is inexpensive, and a gift your neighbors will never forget, I guarantee.

Behold, I bring you glad tiding of great joy in the form of…(wait for it)…The Tampon Angel.
It’s fun, it’s festive, it’s fantastic.

The hard part of this craft is coming up with the note to put on it because; you know it’s a…a tampon. 
What my tag is going to be this year is this, “Come they told me, Tampon-a-pon-pon…”

But you come up with your own because I would love to hear your ideas on this.

If the tampon angel is not your thing or your neighbors are avid hunters, how about the tampon blow gun? Some PVP pipe, some duck tape and box full of tampons and you are good to go.

For more fun craft ideas with tampons, see this website, whose only medium is tampons in the creation of some amazing holiday art. It's Tampastic! http://www.tamponcrafts.com/


Monday, October 8, 2012

The Respect Star Wars Deserves


Is nothing sacred?

I just saw an ad for the new the Star Wars Angry Birds, being launched in November, and I have to say unto the creators, "Woman Please!"

As a youngster I reverenced Star Wars. It was as important as the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Many a parallel was drawn from my life to Star Wars, and the lessons I learned in the Star Wars universe shaped me into the amazing person that I am today.

And now we are making mock of something that I consider sacred. George Lucas when is enough, enough? Stop selling your birthright for a mess of pottage, already.

Am I the only one who feels that Star Wars needs to treated with a little bit more respect and not be cheapened with each passing year?

I mean haven’t we suffered enough watching those terrible prequels and that Star Wars Christmas Special? (P.S. if you haven't seen this Christmas Special, it is a must see train wreck.  To see our fearless heroes lessened to a holiday special where Princess Leia sings...wow, it's pretty bad. You can almost hear Harrisn Ford whisper through the wails of the Wookies, "I can't wait until I make Indiana Jones."
You might feel fear and anger during your viewing, those feelings are normal and are letting you know this Christmas Special was produced by the dark side.

Do we need to watch this franchise become an angry birds game? Do we? Honestly?

What’s next? An animated comedy that pocks fun at Star Wars? Heaven forbid!




Thursday, October 4, 2012

The Actors Studio

So this year one of my goals has been to try to cultivate my acting ability. I have been in back to back shows all year, and although it has been a wonderful experience, I have realized some things. One of them is that theater people are very odd indeed.

Show Don't Tell
I have never met a group of people that love to tell you how awesome they are more than actors. I say “tell” but I really mean “show”. 
For example, supposing I was talking to an actor and I asked if he could do a Scottish accent. The actor wouldn’t be content to say, “Yes, I can do a Scottish accent”, but they would immediately start talking to you in a Scottish accent, which is fun for a minute, but when it drags on for 15 days it gets, how do you say, old real fast

So I have learned to never ask people their qualifications unless, I really want them to burst into song, perform a tap number, or mime something.

Physical Touch
I don't like people touching me, let's just be clear. I don't ask for much personal space, but I need at least, I don't know, 100 yards to feel safe and at ease. 

But I have noticed that theater people are obliviousness to personal boundaries. I used to take it in stride and let them touch, pock, hug,...and accept  the unsolicited back massage (exaggerated eye roll)
I don't know why people think I need a massage.They are always like,
 "Rob, You are so tense." 

And inside myself I am silently screaming, 
"That's funny I was perfectly relaxed until you started awkwardly kneading my shoulders. I don't know, maybe it's your massage that is making me tense? There's no maybe, it 's your fondling fingers that are making me tense. Now desist.", and then I have to punch them. 

Awkwardness
The most unique people with the worst people skills work in theater. I don't participate  in theater to make friends, I am there to work...OK and to wear the sparkly outfits, but mostly to work. And I can't figure out why such odd people are drawn to the theater. 

In my everyday life I am surrounded with well adjusted people who are polite and seem to have a good grasp on societal norms, but I walk into a theater sometimes and it's like walking into "thunderdome".  People are yelling at each other, there are people bursting into spontaneous musical numbers while other people are trying to talk, and some have a complete lack of hygiene and are borderline...um, how do I put this gently, socially retarded. 

Conclusion
Sometimes I wonder if I am the one that is considered weird among my acting brothers and sisters. I am sure in some back hallway other cast member are saying things like,
 "What's with Robierto? He never talks to us or gives into our forcible massages. We are astonished, not a little by his actions. What's his problem?"

My problem is I like to act.
In my real life I am emotionally constipated, I have a hard time expressing myself, and I am anxious about something almost every hour of the day.
When I am onstage I feel like I can express the inexpressible, say things that I didn't know I had in me to say, and after the end of a show my mind and emotions are finally at peace.

So if I have to put up with some nutty thespians to create some magic in my life...bring it on.



Wednesday, August 22, 2012

The Provo River Sprite


So Friday I had a rehearsal for a play I am in Provo. I got there about a ½ hour early, so I decided to go walking on the Provo River Trail to try to memorize my lines.

I found that as I was walking I was pretty much the only one on the trial, so instead of whispering or reviewing them silently, like a normal person, I started speaking them in full voice.

But I kept thinking, “Robierto, be careful someone is magically going to appear on a long board or bike and you are going to look really stupid.

But no one came, so I just kept right on a goin’. So I just went for it, shouting, shaking fists in the air. It was quite a scene, man.

And then to my right, I heard the sound of little voice clear its throat. As I turned my head, I saw a little body, and that little body was riding a little yellow bike.

I did a full body cringe, and thought, “If I don’t make eye contact with him maybe he will just ride away.”

He didn’t ride away friends, but rather just kept right in stride with me, staring up at me in with a questioning look.

He then said, “Sure is beautiful up here isn’t it?”

I said nervously, “It sure is.” Knowing the follow up to that would surely be, “Gee mister, you sure seem like a crazy person talking to yourself and shaking your fists like that.

But then he asked honestly with a squinty eye, “What are you doing?

I was grateful for his question so I could explain to him that I wasn’t crazy.

I am in a play”, I said, “and I am trying to memorize my lines.”

Oh,” he said, “That’s great. Good luck.” 

And then he rode away, never to be seen again.

Now I have heard tell of some mythical creatures that dwell beneath Mt. Timpanogos, none of which ride little yellow bicycles. But me thinks this little sprite was sent by the Gods of Awkwardness to say, “Robierto, you do weird and reckless things, but you are all right.

Thank you little sprite, wherever you are. You have taught me some valuable lessons, but mostly, perhaps when acting the fool, one should only do this in the privacy of his home...or perhaps locked safely in his bathroom closet.

Friday, July 27, 2012

The Blind Dates


Sometimes blind dates cause more questions than they do answers, don’t they?

This last month was five years since my last blind date and since that time I have built up a lot of self confidence, got a haircut, and cut my nose hair so it doesn't dangle below the rim.

So one of my good friends, who I would says knows me really well, approached me about going on a blind date. Normally I would just shut the man down, but he assured me that he had found the perfect girl for me. He assured me that we had so much in common, and that we were so similar that we could be related. I am pretty fantastic, so why wouldn’t I love to hang out with the female version of me?

So I walked into the restaurant looking for a tall, funny girl who was devastatingly good looking.

But after looking around I didn’t see anyone that fit that description. The only other person in the restaurant was a short girl in a turtleneck. I asked if she was the person I was there to see, and she said that she was without making direct eye contact.

So we both sat down and started chatting about ourselves, well mostly I started chatting; she was really busy on her mobile device. I think she was on a really difficult stage of Angry Birds or something.

So within the first five minutes, I maxed out all my conversation skills. And there we sat in a very loud, awkward silence for what seemed to be an hour.  I sat there sweating profusely trying to come up with any topic to talk about, and she entertained herself with an intense game of “Draw Something” with her super fun friends online.  

Needless to say, the whole experience was a nightmare, with a capitol "N", which rhythms with SIN, and that stands for blind dates. Oh we got trouble...

So naturally this wasn’t a love connection, and I am really not upset about it because…forgive me…, who wears a turtleneck in July?

But the thing I am most concerned about is, why people who claim to know me so well, set me up with people that are not even close, nay, not even in the right galaxy of what I would be interested in?

And when the people closest to me say things like, “You have so much in common” and “You guys are so much alike, that I could wet myself”, I have an expectation that this date could really be something great. 

And then I show up to find a social retarded girl who wears turtle necks in July. It makes me wonder if they see me as a socially retarded man who enjoys wearing socks with his flip flops, to set me up with such ding dongs.

I am really beginning to wonder what kind of a vibe I am giving off here. I have to admit, I am trying to tone down my awesomeness, but maybe I have toned it down two notches too low. It’s hard to say.



Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The Iron Man Sighting


Iron Man texting on the train, next to his super cool 10 speed.
A lot of people don't know, this but when it rains outside, Iron Man takes the TRAX train.

He got off at the mall where I can only assume he is meeting Thor and the Hulk at the food court for a "slice" at Sbarro's.

They will discuss their next mission and then stop on over to the Gap to buy some skinny jeans.
But not the Hulk, he is kind of stuck on the purple capri pant look.


Wednesday, June 20, 2012

The Best Birthday Gift Ever!

So yesterday was my birthday. (I am still accepting gifts by the way, so please drop off yours ASAP),
and I got like 8 trillion "Happy Birthday" wall post on Facebook, mostly because I am so popular, but fear face to face interactions with people.

My friend Chris sent me a birthday video that change me in deep and a profound way for 20 minutes. It was this special, special video entitled "Tight Pants/Body Rolls".

Oh friends I don't know where to start, only to say that this video is so "out there" that I really like it a lot. I relate to the "high kicks" portion. Many of you may not know this, but one of my special gifts is high kicks, I get it from my mom.

Enjoy, and get your birthday gifts to me as soon as you can!

Friday, June 15, 2012

THE DMV IS MY FAVORITE!


What is it about the DMV that I love?

Is it the wonderful potpourri of smells? A subtle mix of body odor, second hand smoke, and just a hint of poopy diaper.

Is it the breath taking gallery of body art that is on display by people wearing tube and tank tops?

Or is it the line you wait in for 45 minutes, to receive a number so you can wait in another line for another 45 minutes?

Probably, my favorite reason for going to the DMV is the quality of customer service and care I receive from the staff there.

For example, my recent experience at the DMV was a classic example of public service at its finest. 

I had received a letter from the DMV that I needed to renew my license in person, since for the past 20 years I have been carrying around the driver’s license I had in high school. Sure I look great, but I have to be honest, it hasn’t been to my advantage when they check my ID when I go clubbing on the weekends. So I was excited to get the photo updated ASAP.

So after, for what seemed like days waiting in line, and seeing many people turned away because they did not bring the proper documentation to receive their license renewal, I finally arrived to the renewal portal.

Friends, I felt so confident with my renewal situation because I had read through the instructions that were mailed to me. I had my Driver’s License, my social security card, my birth certificate, and I even brought my proof of insurance just for good measure. I was pretty sure the whole process would go pretty quickly, maybe only 2 or 3 hours.

So I came to the window and met sweet Sheila, a fellow civil servant, who, without greeting me or even looking up, snatched my paperwork and began scanning it. She seemed very efficient so I didn’t mind that she came off a little abrupt and crabby. Underneath her rough exterior I knew she just wanted to make the best use of my time and get me out the DMV expeditiously.

And so the our conversation unfolded thusly,
Sheila- Did you bring two pieces of mail since you moved to a new address?
Robierto- No, I called and reported my address change to the DMV, so you should already have my new address.
Sheila- I am going to need two pieces of mail to get your new address.
Robierto- Sweet Sheila, you already have my new address. You sent me this letter (holding up the letter I received directly from DMV) at my new address telling me to come and renew my license, so it should be in the system already. So…
Sheila- Sorry sir, according to policy I need you to bring two pieces of mail with you.
Robierto- Oh Sheila, you have my address. It’s in the system because you mailed me my renewal letter to my new address. Can you just…um…look in the system…I am sure if you look…
Sheila- Sir, I am going to need you to stop crying and come back with two pieces of mail with your current address.

And so we danced, she insisting of on my bringing back two pieces of mail, and I pleading not to have to come back to the DMV.

So in the end we both agreed, well mostly she agreed, that I would need to return the following day with two pieces of mail.

I am super excited to meet with Sheila again today.  Because I will be bringing her a 50 pound bag of mail with my new address on it for her to verify, well I should say two pieces of mail and 50 pounds of rocks.

Love the care I receive at the DMV! LOVE IT!

FOLLOW UP:
So I just got back from the the DMV, and friends I have such news.
So I still had to wait in line for 30 minutes with my two letters to verify my new address with Sheila.
But Sheila was busy yelling at another crying customer, so I when to another, kinder worker named Brad.
So as soon as I got to the counter I gave Brad my two letters to verify my new address and he said, "Rob I don't need these, your new address is already in the system."
THANK YOU BRAD! In your face Sheila.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Lavatory Leg Rest

Has this ever happened to you as you walk into a bathroom?
You sit down on the toilet and think to yourself, “This toilet is wonderfully comfortable, but what about my feets? I have walked from the couch to the bathroom and my feet are in need of a well needed rest!

Well friends wait no longer, for today I would like to introduce you to “Lavatory Leg Rest”.

That’s right friends; No longer do your feet need to be in pain unnecessarily while your bottom is sweetly cooled by the porcelain of your toilet. Your feet can now get in on the sweet relaxation, that is the whole body, (well at least your lower extremity) bathroom experience.  

Everyone is getting one today. You’re getting one. You’re getting one, and you’re getting one. (Pause. Wait for people to scream raucously. OK)

That’s right friends, everyone is getting a “Lavatory Leg Rest”…or you can just stop by my mom’s house and take the one she has in her guest bathroom. 

Seriously, It’s my favorite part of visiting my parents.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Cutting of the Cheese

So yesterday our ward got to serve at the LDS Dairy, packing cheese

And do you know what my job was?

Wrong. I didn’t pack the cheese. I got to cut the cheese.

I cut cheese for 5 solid hours. And friends, I cut it long and I cut it hard.

The supervisor said that she had never seen anyone cut the cheese as well as I did. She said that I had a real talent in cutting the cheese.

Although, I always knew that I had some natural raw talent in cutting cheese, as I cut cheese at home on occasion, it was nice that someone else acknowledged my gift.

Sometimes, people get angry when I cut cheese around them, but why should I hid this talent under a bushel? Shouldn’t I let it shine as the primary song says?

If you are looking to have someone cut cheese at your next party or family gathering please call me.

If you have never been a 14 year old boy you may not appreciate this entry as much as you should.

In all seriousness, at the dairy they use such phrases as:
            “Who wants to volunteer to cut cheese?”
or
            “Bretheren you need to stop throwing butter at each other and get serious about cutting cheese!”

No one around me thought is was funny, probably because they are so spiritual.
But as for me and my house I almost fell over laughing whenever they said “cut the cheese”.

You would think that being 25 years old, excuse me 35 years old, no I am sorry, 36 years old,  that I would have matured past laughing at things that are so juvenile and crass.

But your still reading this so what does that say about you?

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The C02 Leak


So I had a really scary thing happen to me over the weekend that changed me in a deep and profound way for at least 5 hours.

Friday night before I went to be bed I partied and had a Coke. A beverage I don’t drink very often, so when I do drink it I get the “shakes” and can’t sleep for days.

So Saturday morning at 4:00 am my smoke alarm starts beeping. So I checked my house and nothing was on fire or smoldering (unless you count that smokin’ hot tall guy with the Coke hangover and pajama bottoms).

So I looked on my smoke alarm and my CO2 light was flashing. So I rushed around my house and opened all my doors and windows to get out this C02 that was infiltrating my house. (I don’t really know what C02 is…but isn’t the stuff that makes Coke fizzy. How could that be bad for you?

I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t and my C02 alarm kept beeping. So I decided to do what any brave man would, I evacuated my house and called my father. He said that I needed to call the fire department and have them come over to check my house.

So reluctantly, I called the fire department and they said they would send someone over to inspect my house. So I am thinking some guy in a Honda Civic with a little C02 instrument will come and just do a little walk through of my house to see if everything is OK.

So I sat on my stoop, yes stoop, to wait for this little man to appear in his Honda Civic. But much to my dismay a Civic didn’t pull up to my house, but a full on fire truck with lights and sirens. Immediately three firemen, in full uniform by the way, came bounding up my stairs, running through my house looking for C02 and to see if I was still alive.

They didn’t find anything and then one of them asked me, “So why did you think you had a C02 leak again?” I told them about how I had a Coke and I was a little “shaky” to begin with, and that my fire alarm was beeping and the light said that C02 was leaking into my house.

So the fireman reached up, pulled down my fire alarm, looked at it and said matter of factly, “Your fire alarm is beeping because your battery needs to be changed. So you are not going to die of C02 poisoning. OK?”

I guess the real moral here kids, is that it might be better to die of C02 poisoning than to die of the embarrassment of having the fire department come to your home to tell you that you need to change your battery in your fire alarm.

I blame the Coke. 

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Lavatory Photo Shoot

Don't you love people like Nina Katchadourian  who go into an airplane lavatory and decorate themselves with only items found on the airplane. 
Most people just go into the lavatory to pee or join the mile high club, but not Nina.  While the rest of us are using the blue water toilet with suction power that could carry a way a young child, young Nina is creating art out of toilet tissue and neck pillows. 
Shine on you crazy diamond!
Check it.
http://laughingsquid.com/airplane-lavatory-self-portraits-in-the-flemish-style/

Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Ward Choir Anger


So I have been attending our ward choir. Not because I really want to but because, like all good Mormons, my guilt compels me there.

I am not a great singer by any stretch of the word but I can carry a tune and I can sight read music a little.  So by ward choir standards I am freakin’ Luciano Pavarotti.

So the choir director makes me sit next to a guy who can’t sing his way out of a wet paper sack, in hopes that he can follow me and pick up on how to sing parts.

However, in the last few rehearsals a development has started that I don’t love concerning this brother. He keeps criticizing me on how I sing. “You sang that part wrong”, “You are singing “yeah” instead of “yea”, and my personal favorite “you are sing to loud, who do you think you are Luciano Pavarotti?”.

I have tried to bite my lip and thank him for his constant critiques of my already fragile self-esteem when it comes to my ability to sing, but enough is enough.

I think this brother is why more fist fights break out in ward choir than any other church meeting, second only to PEC.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The Dental Visit


Don’t you hate it when you go to the dentist and after examining your mouth, he looks at you with a raised eyebrow and asks, “Have you been brushing and flossing every day like I told you to do on your last visit?

And very truthfully I say, “Yes sir. I floss and brush at least two times a day and sometimes I gargle after a filling lunch.”

And then he gives me this look, like, “How dare you turn my dental office into a den of LIES.”

And then I feel like I have to apologize because I wasn’t taking better care of MY mouth. As if somehow my dental “goody” bag was tied to the regularity of my flossing.

And then I drive home feeling guilty for something that I was already doing to begin with.

I am not sure how I feel about it.
Maybe it’s time to stop going to a pediatric dentist. 

Friday, March 16, 2012

The Special St. Patrick's Song

I love this so much that it needs to be shared. My three favorite muppets performing a very special St. Patrick's Day song.
Friends, I give you the musical stylings of Beacker, The Swedish Chef, and my favorite, sweet, sweet, Animal.

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Mate

So I finally bought new pants. Yes friends, I finally found a normal pair of pants that weren't skinny fit tailored to fit a 16 year old girl. Thank you Macys for clothing the unusually tall man.

Yesterday at church as I was wearing my new pants, I had occasion to put my hands in my pocket and noticed there was a slip of paper inside. Which read "Ask salesperson for mate"

Well you can imagine how sad I felt knowing that if I had only found this slip of paper sooner I could not only have wound up with not only a pair of fine looking slacks, but also an eternal companion from Macy's.

As I returned to Macy's to ask the salesperson for my mate, she informed me that the "free mate with purchase of a regular priced dress pant" event had ended last week.



Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Lazy Eye


Have you ever talked to someone with a Lazy Eye?

I mean, bless their hearts for carrying the burden of that because that has got to be rough. And just FYI, my intent today is not to make fun of these wonderfully courageous people who go about their daily lives with the challenge of having an eye that fades ever so slightly to the left… or to the right. But rather, my intent is to come up with some protocol so that when I address these brave people I can make them feel more at ease.

This has been on my mind because this week I had an occasion to talk to a gentleman with the lazy eye malady. I was trying to look him in straight in the eye, but then I noticed that his other eye was looking somewhere else. So then I thought, “That must be his good eye”, so then I switched my focus.

 But through the course of our conversation I kept second guessing myself as to which eye was his “good eye”. So then my eyes started darting back and forth because I wasn’t sure which eye I was supposed to be looking at and I just wanted to cover all my bases.

What do you do in that situation? Do you just look at another appendage like their ear or nose? And what is the secret to figuring out which eye is the “good eye”?

If you know the answer to this conundrum I would greatly appreciate some input.

Monday, March 5, 2012

The Costco Sharpie Worker

Have you ever gone to Costco and wondered what the reasoning behind that person with the Sharpie that strikes a line through your receipt as you exit is?

 I guess it’s to stop shoplifting. But if I am honest with myself, and I would like to think that I am, how in the world does one shoplift at Costco? Everything is like the size of a grand piano. I mean, I guess if you had a huge hoop skirt or trench coat you might be able to hide a pallet of muffins or a hamper of Alaskan crab legs close to your person. But the likelihood of that happening isn’t that high…unless you where in some kind of high school choir, then you probably have a dress that you could hide some pretty amazing things under.

I think the Sharpie Costco worker might be wasting my time and theirs. That sweet Costco worker might be better served working in the kitchen where they can serve me a “slice” or a delicious hot dog and a drink.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

On this day of love,I would like to share a beautiful dramatic reading by my friend Precious, not to be confused with Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire. She has such a way with words that her dramatic reading left me, the audience, and the announcer utterly speechless. Happy Valentines Day!