Whistle While You Get Worked to Death

Jenny, my wife, is a logistics genius. We have been finding that getting Saturday jobs done has been a little difficult. Everyone gets distracted so easily, or we simple have an aversion to work. Jenny solved the problem with one short sentence. She simply said that I can't do anything fun on Saturday until all the kid's jobs are done.

It has been amazing how things changed over night. Jenny knew that I liked to get up early and get my stuff done and then distract everyone else. Now, I'm a slave driver whooping all of those kids into shape. No sleeping in until 6:00 a.m. anymore on Saturday mornings for those little darlings. It's Jenny's ultimate win-win-win: Get the house clean, in record time, without the kids blaming her for their tortured lives.

Who Invented the English Language Anyway?

There's nothing like the English language to embarrass the crapola out of you (I give some some credit to the English language for allowing me to come up with the word crapola).

In our church we often refer to each other as Brother or Sister (you know, we are all part of one big happy or sometimes not so happy family). Well, a gentleman that I work with in my church calling who is new to his calling was talking to me, and as part of the conversation said, "Now, your brother?" Thinking that he was trying to make a family connection with me and my more famous brother, I stated my brother's first name. When he paused for a second, I again stated my brother's first name and his last name and said, "the talented stake organist and music specialist". He kind of said, "oh", gave me a little bit of a strange look and went on with his conversation.

I later had another conversation with this gentleman and he asked me about my musical abilities. I said that I was not that talented and that my brother was much more talented than me. He again kind of looked at me funny. Then all of a sudden it dawned on me why I had been getting all of the strange looks. I realized that in the first conversation we had he asked, "You're (you are) Brother?" instead of "Your (meaning possessively, my) brother?"

So fit this back in to the original conversation and see how much of a strange duck he thinks I am. I'm sure he has been going around saying how strange my brother is (thinking he's referring to me).

No way was I going to correct him and tell him my real name. Not as long as my brother will take the rap for it. I hope he doesn't find out who I really am.

You don't see anything wrong with that do you?

In the Eyes of the Beholder...Whatever!

It's about over and gratefully you will not have to hear about this darn body fat contest much longer (10 days to go in the 5 month long ordeal). When it is over I will post the before and after shots (From Jabba the Hut in episode 6 to Jabba the Hut in episode 1. I think there is a minor distinction.)

Well, to show that there is more than one opinion of my new girlish figure, I offer an alternate to the one from my last post.

Last night we were at a ward function where I nice older lady came up to me and asked if I was feeling ok. Well, I did have a slight runny nose and indicated such to her. She looked at me reprovingly and said, "No, I'm talking about the serious illness and life threatening disease that you have, it looks like you are suffering something terrible. Your body is just wasting, so I wanted to know if you are feeling ok."

Not missing a beat and not wanting to dissapoint her, I simply said, "they say that I have less than two weeks left. I'm well enough off, though, knowing the suffering is almost over."

Man, I think that the contestants on American Idol get more consitant feedback out of Paula and Simon.

It was Like Kissing Your Sister

This one's kind of embarrassing. I've been swimming at the local high school as part of a body fat contest that I have been participating in. Well, often there is a water aerobics class that I have to walk by after I'm done swimming. I'm kind of self conscience about my physique, so I kind of look away towards the outside glass as I hurriedly walk by. As I walked by the other day I heard my name called out. At first I thought that I had misheard until the whole class yells out my name. I turn and see that my niece is in the class and that she just wanted to say hi to me. Knowing that I now had the whole attention of the class, I mosey along as fast as I can.

Later that night, I get a call from my niece to hear a little confession from her. She said that her friend had seen me get out of the pool as I started walking toward the class. She motioned to my niece and said, "hey, look at that hot guy!", and she replied, "Yeah, he's kind of buff!" . Well, obviously distances are deceiving because when I got close enough she all of a sudden realized, that she had been talking about her uncle. I think that is when the nausea set in for her.

Her final comment to me on the phone was, "oh, by the way, we noticed how you were checking yourself out in the window." I've been doing all of my swimming laps ten feet under the water since then.

Raisin' the Bar

On more of a serious note, but nonetheless this brought a massive smile to my face and warmed my heart. Andrew, our 4-year old, was greatly saddened to not get the chance to say the family prayer the other night. So, I said that the person who was called on, which was Jenny, could delegate the assignment if she wanted, and of course, she asked Andrew if he would say the prayer. Andrew always gives meaningful and thoughtful prayers, but this prayer for some reason really struck me. During part of the prayer Andrew asked Heavenly Father if he would bless us to be a Great Family.

That really struck me. In today's world it is not just good enough to just be just good enough. Thanks Andrew for your example and petition.

Wrestling at Twenty Paces

My four-year old, Andrew, loves to wrestle. In fact, he is actually getting pretty good. He has mastered all of the great techniques that I have taught him, like feigning injury if for some reason you get rolled onto your back. We are even able to use wrestling as a means to get him to eat healthy food. We just say, "Well, it looks like dad is going to beat you at wrestling today if you don't eat your brussels sprouts," and he's on them like a tornado in a trailer park. Talk about pretty strong psychology, I won't even eat those yucky things.

Well, Andrew has taken his game to an all new level. His latest strategy is to catch me at my weakest moments and then fly out of nowhere at full speed in an airborne tackle. Like the other day I come in the door after running a grueling 8 miles, and before I knew what hit me, I'm on my back with Andrew saying, "Let's Wrestle", and then he counts to three as fast as he can while simultaneously slapping the ground to indicate the pin. I had no chance. He was like lightning and I was...well, like pooped.

Like I said, he's getting good. He's got me always looking over my shoulder. I'm losing sleep thinking that out of the darkness at 3:00 a.m. will come this ninja styled attack. Who would have ever thought that a preschooler could strike the fear into the heart of man by uttering the words,

"LET'S WRESTLE!"

Catch and Release

Keeping with the White Trash theme, my office is in a group of trailers outside our main office complex. One of my fellow co-workers in an adjacent trailer came into my office and said that he had heard a cough and some scratching underneath his office. We quickly surmised that we are dealing with a skunk or some other nefarious critter. He asked me if I could bring my trap and my wife. Not catching on at first, I asked, "Why that combo?" He said, "You know, the catch and release program, where you catch the skunk and then you have your wife release it."

OH, the pain of stories that never die.

If you are one of the very few that have not heard of this infamous story, please go to belligerentblogging.blogspot.com and looked under past posts labeled 'Creatures' and look for the story called 'The Skunk'. And then someday, when the statute of limitations has expired and the gag order is lifted, I will be able to tell my side of the story.

Honey, I'm Home! Honey? Where are You?

I recently heard my wife speaking to a friend on the phone saying how much she enjoys having me home on Fridays with the new state work hours. How she loves having me here all day so she can...

Here's where I get warm and fuzzy inside thinking of all of the wonderful things that she wants to do with me: talk, do projects together, read poetry, etc. I'm thinking, "this woman deserves a foot rub, right now."

She then finished her statement, "take off and spend the day alone."

-ouch.

Well, at least I brought her happiness.

I am Man, Hear Me...squeek

So Grandma Smart calls yesterday. It is the first time that we have talked to her since the big Orlando trip of which she came with us. We have been excited about the big post trip party that we are going to have where we will show the movie (I know that you are about sick of me talking about the trip and the movie by now) that I made. So everyone is excited to talk to her, especially me because I want to tell her about 'the movie'. So all of the kids talk to her first. I keep interjecting that I want my turn to talk to her. They each take forever going over all of 'their' exciting news from the past several weeks. Finally, the kids are done and the last one hands the phone to Jenny and says that grandma wants to talk to her.

In the back ground I can her Jenny saying things like, "And then he put in the bird poop scene matched to this song, and then he put in the I'm too sexy song when Grandpa Smart stripped down to jump in the Ocean, and blah, blah, blah, (loud laughter)..."

All of my jewels that I was so anxiously awaiting to tell her. The next thing that I know is that Jenny comes back with no phone.

I said, "Hey, when do I get to talk to Grandma?"

She said,"Oh we were finished so we hung up".

"But, I wanted to talk to her" (with my best whiney voice).

"Oh, we didn't think you were serious, plus she only needed to talk to one adult."

...I wish I was a kid again.