Tuesday, June 27, 2006

You Are Jan Brady

Brainy and a little introverted, you tend to think life is a lot worse than it actually is.
And while you may think you're a little goofy looking, most people consider you to be a major babe.


Jan huh? I was hoping for Greg or Peter, but in a way, Jan makes sense.

Who comes up with this crap?

Sunday, June 18, 2006

The content of this entry probably won't go over too well seeing as most of my readers are women. Nevertheless, something has got to be said.

I know I am not alone in complaining about this.

When women who have recently given birth or who are expecting get together, the conversation inevitably turns to the gory details of labor and delivery. I call it "talking about discharge."

One fine example of this phenomenon happened during a Sunday dinner at my mom's house. Along with my siblings, our spouses and our kids, my mom had invited over a Venezuelan couple and their newborn baby. In all there were probably four women who had recently given birth or were expecting.

Before the food was even on the table, the conversation turned to labor and delivery. Suddenly it was "afterbirth this" and "mucous plug" that. . . Then the Venezuelan lady uttered a line that is forever seared in my memory. "Gwen I had birth, my bar-china tore to my rectoom."

For the love of all that is holy, let me eat in peace.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Recently, some rather clever vandals had their way with a dumpster outside my sons school.



This reminds me of something I. . . er. . . a friend of mine did about 13 years ago.

It all started when some jaded underemployed person decided to rent a bus stop bench on the corner of Timpview Drive in front of Edgemont Elementary School.

My guess is that this individual must have been passed over for a promotion or a new job in favor of someone he or she percieved to be less qualified, but who nevertheless had family ties to the employer.

The bench was painted dark green with yellow block lettering which read, "Nepotism is a Relative Thing."

This friend of mine knew nothing of the reasons for the sign, but had to pass the bus stop at least once every day. As you can imagine, after a few months the anti-nepotism message got a little annoying. What kind of person would pay good money to rent a bus stop bench in order to have it say "Nepotism is a Relative Thing?" I think maybe he or she lost out on the job because the employer knew they were petty, vindictive, and just generally a pain in the arse.

So it was the night of my friends 18th birthday, and the sign was still up. After passing off the final requirements for his Eagle scout award, my friend got together with a cousin and a girl he met at the Palace dance club on high school night, went to Smiths and bought some green and some yellow spray paint, and plotted their evil scheme.

My friends were meticulous. They cut out stencils based on tracings of existing letters on the sign. They actually removed the sign to a secluded area so they could work uninterrupted. They painstakingly painted the letters as professionally as they could manage given the circumstances.

The next day the sign read, "Incest is a Relative Thing."

Friday, June 09, 2006

I love The Simpsons. One of my all-time favorite lines is in the episode in which Homer runs for Springfield Sanitation Commissioner. He says: "Animals are crapping in our houses and we're picking it up! Did we lose a war? This isn't America! This isn't even Mexico."

On that note, let me tell you about our dog. His name is Midnight. (Guess what color his fur is?) He is a Mini-Schnauzer. Those of you who know me may well be asking yourselves what on earth possessed me to get a dog. This is a good question. Maybe I will elaborate on that at some future date. For now, just imagine I was drugged and dragged to the pet store.

Midnight is a pestilence upon my household. He refuses to eat any form of dog food, drinks only running water, and yet he jumps at the chance to munch on a filthy diaper or human vomit. Sometimes the latter follows closely on the heels of the former. I have a fairly sensitive gag reflex.

When I get home from work I always kiss and hug all of the kids. Every day Midnight waits for his turn. He's going to be waiting a long, long time. I feel bad because he is an affectionate little dog and would love it if I would let him lick me on the face. Unfortunately, I have a pretty strict policy against getting licked by creatures that lick their own cornholes. Yet they say dogs mouths are cleaner than peoples mouths. How could that possibly be true?

This whole thing is turning me into a compulsive hand-washer. I can't touch the dog without washing my hands afterwards. I can't take it.

We've been keeping the dog food in the garage. There's enough bad-smelling stuff in the house as it is. The result of this is that we have a rodent problem in the garage now. Today I found three mice trapped in a garbage can near the food. I got the kids out of the garage and set to destroying the mice with the butt end of a two-by-four. I've never killed anything larger than a housefly in my life, but I had to do it. Dog ownership has transformed me into a brute.

This is the pestilence Midnight has brought down upon my head. I rue the day we became dog people. Why didn't we just get a cat? I wouldn't touch a cat either, but it wouldn't give a crap about that because cats don't give a crap about anything but chasing mice and burying their own crap. And both of those behaviors are fine by me.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Have you ever heard of a humanzee? Neither had I until I discovered the exciting field of Cryptozoology. It is the study of creatures whose existence has not been proven. As you can imagine, Cryptozoologists aren't very well respected in the scientific community. Yet they continue undaunted in their pursuits of the Sasquatch, Nessie, and the Skunk Ape. Citing the fact that a prehistoric and believed-to-be-extinct Coelocanth was found off the coast of Madagascar as proof-of-concept, they pursue legends of living Pterosaurs in African swamps, and Sauropods in the Amazon rain forest.

How did I stumble across this fascinating branch of psuedo-science you ask? It started like this: I was at a Stake Conference at the Provo Tabernacle and my almost two year old daughter Exxxx threw her bottle over the balcony at one of the High Council (he politely threw it back by the way), then she tried to throw herself over as well, and nearly succeeded, so I took her outside and we walked around the building. On the South side of the building on a ledge about five feet up my eye caught a black shape about the size of a cell phone, but furry looking. It was covered in cobwebs and looked lifeless enough so I took a closer look and discovered that it was a small, rumpled bat.

I grabbed a stick from a nearby bush and brushed off the cobwebs. It didn't move. I poked it a little harder. It moved its head just the tiniest bit. "Exxxx, look at the bat!" I said.
"My Bat" she said as she tried to grab it.

Other passers-by were not as interested as Exxxx and I. Most women, I found, just walk faster when a strange man comes up to them and says, "Hey look, a bat!"

I did get some kids to look at it. They thought it was pretty cool. Each time I showed it to someone I poked it with a stick so it would move and the viewer would go "whoa." The bat started getting more alert and I got a pretty good look at its beady little eyes. It flapped it's wings a couple of times to swat the stick away, but mostly just tried to sleep.

I started to worry that after I left someone I had showed it to might try to hurt it. When my wife and boys came out at the end of conference I showed it to them and then used a couple of sticks to pick it up and move it. I only was able to take a couple of steps before the bat unfurled its wings and flew directly into the trunk of a nearby tree where it stuck like a furry black spitwad. It was cool to see. I don't know how they can do that and not hurt themselves.

Anyway, when we got home I googled "bats" and then somehow that led to "chupacabras" and then "loch ness" and so on. For a few days I was a regular armchair cryptozoologist.

My favorite "Cryptid" as they are called, was named Zana. She was a humanoid female discovered in or near Siberia in the 1800's. Some believe she was one of a group of surviving Neanderthals. She was covered with reddish hair all over her body, had unusually large breasts which she had to throw over her shoulders to run, was incredibly strong, resistant to cold, and didn't speak any known language. She was captured and kept in a cage for two years until she was sort-of domesticated. Then she was taught to grind grain and things and may have been treated more as livestock than anything else, aside from the fact that village men discovered that she liked to drink and when drunk she wasn't opposed to a little hanky panky. She gave birth to several children in this way. It is said that her children had unusual strength and strange personalities as well. One of them was exhumed for research according to one website.

So this brings us full circle. Have you ever heard of a Humanzee? This cryptid is a rumored cross between humans and chimps. As far as whether this is possible, Human and Chimpanzee DNA is so similar that to compare us as animals is apparently like comparing horses and donkeys. It is most likely possible. As for whether this is probable on the other hand, some would argue against it. But think of poor Zana, liquored up and seduced by the wiles of Siberian farmers. We humans as a species are pretty darn sleazy.

Recently scientists concluded that HIV began in an area of Cameroon where it spread from Chimps to humans. Chimps have a similar disease called SIV (simian immunodeficiency virus) which is pretty harmless to them, but somehow it mutated and was passed to humans. There are a lot of ways this could have happened: Chimp being slaughtered, chimp throwing feces in someones face, chimp barbeque, etc. But maybe, just maybe, it started with a man and a chimp who loved each other very much and they got married and started a family of Humanzees.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

This time of year things are really busy at the store. Everyone is always running around to help several customers at once and answer phone calls and fight off salesmen. It's easy to forget that we actually like scooters. It's easy to forget how much fun it is to go for a ride or just relax. Today I didn't get out of the store until about nine. Sometimes I just want to close up for a day and leave a sign on the door that says something like, "closed in the interest of employees mental health, will reopen tomorrow."

Maybe we should have an employee retreat. I think I'll do it.