Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Cinematic Anticlimax: The Feeling of Unfulfilled

Time once again for another guest blog. Today's blogger is our friend Greg. Greg teaches college kids how to write, so we apologize in advance for the big words and instant improvement to quality. Take it away, Greg:

"Nonplus – v. to greatly perplex or bewilder

Despite the fact that movies these days are as close to an entertainment absolute as you can get, I am readily bewildered by the movement away from denouement – no apex, no summit, no acme – no denouement, pronounced day-no-mah. More and more films today present plot and character development for longer and longer periods of time (shows often last an erroneous 3+ hours) only to fade to black without any happily ever after, no hero or heroine walking into the sunset, no bad guy loses and good guy wins or even bad guy wins … no winner, no loser, no closure. Instead, the purpose of films these days seems to be to only peak with a surprisingly unsurprising turn of events that leaves the viewer wanting yet left with nothing to satisfy or quench. It’s a new age in cinema where the goal has shifted from satisfaction in 2 hours, to far-fetched action and dissatisf-action in 3. Let me explain.

Movies are fun, being entertained is nice. But I’ll be honest … spending my free time in a theater doesn’t do a whole lot for me. It’s the equivalent of twiddling my toes or glazing my pastry. I guess most people would argue movies are an escape from real life, that it’s good to be fantastic now and again … after all, who doesn’t want to escape from something you’re in all the time? Obviously I tend to disagree a bit. I confess, I’m not an avid moviegoer.

Films are not the end all be all for a guy like me. Gratefully though there are options to keep me in the know-ish … I love the Red Box and the age of $1.00 movie rentals (maybe the greatest new entertainment value of the millennium to date). It lets me watch films that I would have otherwise never, ever seen – films independently created on a teacher’s salary, films that get shelved in places at Blockbuster that I would never browse. The reason I like these shows is almost absolutely because of their opposition to the mainstream construct. Unfortunately though, the absence of denouement (the mainstream trend) has even filtered into independent filmmaking, disproving the uniquification of their independence. It’s what makes the independents mainstream. It’s what makes me want to cry.

Take a couple movies I’ve seen recently like The Namesake for instance, which if you haven’t heard of, stars House homie Kal Penn, or The Savages featuring Phillip Seymour Hoffman, or Rendition with Jake Gyllenhall (who my wife pictures during intercourse, i.e., sex), or even Daniel Craig’s 007s. All are perfectly entertaining, and at times even very good, mainstream and/or small-time as they may be, yet they all share a similar or maybe even identical feature – when they end, the viewer is left with an unmistakable feeling of emptiness, not the feeling of wanting more that may draw out a desire to return to see the next episode (as I’m sure was the intent from filmmakers all along), but instead a feeling I can only describe as hollow or sunken or not solid or concave … the feeling of unfulfilled.

You may identify with it as that great date you went on that one time, the one where you were really enjoying yourself, but you didn’t get your good night kiss (or whatever it was you aimed at getting on the doorstep) … but that’s not it, not entirely. It’s that date you went on that one time where you were really enjoying yourself, everything was on course for you to get your good night thingamajig, then the evening took a completely inexplicable turn, with no fair warning, to a degree that you could have never anticipated, for no foreseeable reason … and then fade to black, no thingamajig, and worse no reason for your rejection. No explanation, no happily or sadly or tiredly or curtly or dishearteningly or dispassionately or insert your emotion here, ever after. No denouement. No wrap up. Cinematic anticlimax. There is no outcome or unraveling of the plot, there is no purpose.

When this article ends now, you may feel the same way. You might experience the sense of feeling nonplussed and unfulfilled. Maybe you’ll feel like you just got done at the movies."

Thanks Greg. And for our readers who struggled through the big words, here is a picture of Jessica Biel:

Monday, March 29, 2010

The Office: Layoff Time

I'm sorry to do this, The Office, you've been a valued member of my TV watching line-up for a few years now, but it's time to let you go.

With the ever-increasing demands of my time, more-and-more shows are being let go from the team, and you just haven't been able to compete on a high level for the past three seasons.

I want you to know you had great potential, and for your first two seasons you were outstanding. In fact, I considered you to be on the fast track to joining the ranks of executives such as Seinfeld, Arrested Development, The Simpsons, and your British cousin. You made me laugh, gave me one-liners to say at work, and used a brilliant mix of awkwardness and subtlety that made your comedy relevant.

As you know, I sensed something wrong at the end of season 2 when Jim kissed Pam. Their relationship was perfect as an office romance that would never happen, but when you took it further, your downward trend was set in motion. I thought you might come out of that slump and you did, in fact, produce some great episodes after that moment, but it wasn't quite the same from that point.

Michael slowly declined from the racist, bumbling, awkward jerk-of-a-boss we all loved during the first two seasons to one that always came out on top at the end, getting the girl, teaching the moral lesson, and serving as the tragic hero.

Jim went from funny, witty, clever, and low-key to downright dick headish. I now find Dwight to be one of the more sympathetic characters, which should never have happened. Ryan, Kelly, Daryl, and Toby all went from being hilarious secondary characters to being replaced by the likes of the who-cares love-story of Andy and Erin.

Your jokes are being re-hashed and stolen from other shows. Your sarcasm and appeal to intellect has been replaced by fart jokes and head bonking. You went from brilliant office mockumentary to a situational sitcom without a laugh track.

I thought there was a chance you could work hard to overcome some of your deficiencies, but when Jim and Pam brought a baby into the mix, I knew it was the end.

I want you to know I used to have parties with friends to watch you. Then, I set you on DVR and forgot to go back and watch you, sometimes for weeks at a time. After Thursday's debacle of a show, I have deleted your timer and have no plans of bringing you back.

I'm sorry it had to end this way. You should be able to get by for a while by being a hit with the same people who love According to Jim and Tyler Perry's House of Payne.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Something Like the Meaning of Life

Today I attended the funeral of a coworker’s husband. The circumstances around his death are super sad as he died young from cancer. I went expecting a somber and tear-jerking affair. What I got was much more touching and meaningful.

The funeral was held at an Episcopalian Church. Fortunately, my Mormon skin did not spontaneously combust as I walked through the doors.

It was beautiful. The simple yet elegant wood design in the chapel reminded me of the inverted boat-turned-church in Moby Dick.

I’m lucky I got there early. There was a huge outpouring of support and I barely squeezed into one of the last available back row seats. I felt sorry for the old ladies and new mothers who arrived late and had to stand against the back wall the whole time. They looked uncomfortable.

As the time to begin drew near, a distinct hush fell over the congregation. Suddenly a booming voice from the rear (that I originally mistook for God) commanded us to stand up. The organ fired up and began playing what sounded like the intro to Pete Townsend’s “Let My Love Open the Door.” But it turned out to be just a really catchy hymn.

The voice of God (which turned out to be the priest) then began his sermon about death and resurrection from the back of the congregation, slowly walking up the aisle toward the pulpit. If I was impressed by the organ introduction, my socks were blown over this entrance! It was all I could do to keep the Mormon in me from dancing a jig on the spot.

The services were heart-felt and heart-warming. The speakers wove a tapestry of memories and humor that made all in attendance wish they had known the departed better.

As the ceremony concluded, the organ piped up again. This time I would swear it was the intro to “Baba O’Reilly” by the Who…but I was wrong again. Just another catchy hymn.

At this point Mormon me had a bad case of the shakes, so as the rest of the congregation quietly watched the priest conclude and exit the chapel I did what any self-respecting, insecure male would do. I stood up, shouted “Mormons Rule!” and fled from the building.

But it got me thinking. What an amazing impact death can have on all of us. One man’s passing becomes a celebration of life that helps break down the religious walls we erect to identify our differences. For a few moments, we set aside the things that divide us to rejoice in the things that unite us. Very powerful.

On a completely unrelated note, what is the deal with fat girls and coats? I’ve never seen a fat girl wear more than an ill fitting, spaghetti strap belly shirt during the coldest of winter weather. Are they impervious to cold? Studies need to be done about this.

Monday, March 22, 2010

I Love You, Month of March

Not so fast, Scottie Reynolds.

Apologies for the space between posts, but during the first weekend of the NCAA tournament we tend to go a little Christopher Reeves on the rest of our lives. We fall so deep into our vegetative state, not even a suicidal Robin Williams could cheer us up on his way to becoming a famous oncologist.

I love March.

I love seeing Jay “Big Schools” Bilas proven wrong and Digger “I still think Notre Dame will win it all” Phelps eating his words. I love parents with the audacity to name a child Jimmer. I love crying fat kids carrying trumpets. But most of all I love you, March Madness.

Some thoughts after an entire four days of watching the games:

1. I can’t decide which is stronger, my elation while watching a first round upset or my disgust from seeing the Cinderella bench’s token white guy pretend to hold the entire team back. Aren’t his teammates a bit offended by this? Basically he is saying to them, “Look, I feel like if I don’t physically hold you back, you will go rushing headlong onto the court with a big, stupid grin on your face during the middle of the game. That’s how dumb I think you are.”

2. Apparently, Sonic cleaned out their basement and found a box of old commercials from the 80’s and decided to use them. That’s the only way to explain their abrupt change of direction from the witty in-car conversations to the roller skating teenagers. Also, the commercial features a black guy on roller skates, which I thought to be historically inaccurate until I saw this:

3.Speaking of commercials, I don’t think Papa John’s commercials where he shows he’s “just an ordinary guy” are having the desired effect. If anything he comes across as even more douchey than we originally thought. If I see him react to making the half court shot one more time I will probably vomit.

4.Robert Morris got screwed. The officials decided the outcome of that game against Villanova. Period.

5.I know I’m getting older because every year I get more and more concerned about the underdog dog pile following an upset. It’s at a point now where I become visibly pale and worry for the safety of each one of those young fellas.

And finally,

6. There is no better celebration than the sprinting across the court doing high knees. You just can't describe joy any better than by watching a grown man wave a towel above his head while high stepping.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Mormon Red: The Mystery Color

With March Madness at hand, there isn't a more perfect time to acknowledge Mormon Reds, as one of the most prominent of them - Britton Johnsen - played in the 1998 National Championship.

First, let me tell you about Mormon Red. It's a hair color that I can't really explain. It's a mix between strawberry blonde, regular blonde, and brown. If you were to roll up food storage, self-righteousness, and Charlie Hustle into a color, it would turn out Mormon Red.

Usually people with this hair color (referred to by my Brother and I as Mormon Reds) smell like homemade bread.

Just like regular red-heads have a reputation for being fiery and sassy, Mormon Reds have a reputation for being that guy that calls 3-seconds in the key during church basketball games, wears Dockers and button-up shirts even on weekends, and is typically a member of the ward choir.

Oh, and they usually just need a minute of your time (and an up-front investment of $350) to explain how you'll have residual income rolling in if you can just sign up three friends.

Mormon Reds are lifetime scouters. Every scout leader I have ever met is a Mormon Red, which leads me to the conclusion that Mormon Reds are craftier and more resourceful than most. If I ever need help moving, the first people I call are the Mormon Reds I know, not only because they'll work hard, but because they'll know how to pack up the truck the best.

Mormon Reds almost always have pocketknives.

Here's to you, Mormon Reds, for always being there with a compass, a somber look, and 110 percent of hustle when we need them most.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Bumper Stickers: Ruining Our Good Time

Can we finally just organize a worldwide vote to officially declare bumper stickers the dumbest form of human communication of all time?

I know what you’re thinking; aren’t I forgetting Instant Messaging, Pig Latin and Sign Language?

Sure, those are dumb forms of communication, but we are looking for the dumbest of all time.

You win, bumper stickers.

Some people might read this and think, “Hey, I like bumper stickers. I have a couple on my car that really express my general outlook on life and speak to me as a unique and special snowflake.”

If you are one of those people, um…maybe we should start seeing other people, you know? Maybe take a break. Just…well…don’t contact me for a while.

You are not unique, you are not a snowflake. You are one of millions of dimwits duped into buying a mass produced item and passing it off as your own original statement of being. You suck.

Bumper stickers range from moronic stick figures depicting family members to strong statements of anger toward the beliefs of others. My five least favorite are:

War is Not the Answer- So misguided, so condescending, so exclusive to Subaru Outbacks. I guess it is hard for me to accept that war is not the answer when I was never really asked the question. If the question is “What is my favorite card game?” or “What is Jet Li’s best movie?” or “Why do hipsters hate George Bush?” well…then I would have to say War is the answer. Be more specific with your clever criticism, losers.

My Kid is an Honor Student- First of all, I can speak from personal experience that it does not take much for a kid to make the Junior High honor roll. And parents… a declaration of your kid’s nerdiness really isn’t helping your child. Take it off and maybe they’ll be willing to venture outside again.

My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student- Might as well make a bumper sticker that says “My kids wear confederate flag t-shirts and are obsessed with fireworks.”

Jesus is my Homeboy- Nothing brings non-believers closer to the Lord than conjuring up images of sitting around the house listening to Cypress Hill and playing video games with the Son of God. Classy.

I’d Rather be Fishing- Why do fisherman feel such a need to express their attraction to fish? Yeah, we get it, you like to go fishing. We don’t need all the little reminders. We already figured it out based on your clothes, your smell and your mustache.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Letter to a Friend

Dear Sir:

I happened upon you tonight in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The truck you drove was big. Much bigger than the family car that I was driving, and for that you are not only to be congratulated, but you were entirely justified in looking at me like you are a tougher human being. And who am I to argue? The decal of Calvin pissing on a Ford emblem was all the explaining you needed to do.

I understand how much you must love that truck, which would explain why you secured nearly three parking spaces in the otherwise crowded parking lot. Clearly by the way you hopped down the four-and-a-half feet from your lifted truck and quickly strutted your 5'4" body into Wal-Mart, you were proud of your success in parking. Also, it must be challenging to be so strong that your arms don't actually go all the way down to your sides.

I applaud your courage, dear friend. While your drywall business hasn't had a job since May '08, you refuse to give up your dream and accept a "pussy" job. Sure, your house is on the brink of foreclosure - and a lesser man might take the sissy way out to support his family. Not you; you are a beacon in the community - one who will still buy that 106-inch plasma TV, with which to watch all the MMA fighting and Nascar racing.

And while some would consider a Bully Dog Chip in that diesel a luxury, you have found a way to convince your wife of its necessity. How else would you tow your sleds? You are a wizard of logic. With your tight Tap-Out Gear T-shirts, you have convinced those around you that fat equals muscle.

I would like to someday shake your hand, sir, for clearly being a better man than me. Your camouflage, goatee, and can of chew are the uniform of success. Good luck in all your future endeavors which include, but are not limited to, taking over your father's construction business and beating me off the line at the traffic light.



P.S. No, I was not "looking at your girl."

Monday, March 8, 2010

New Migraine Study: You Probably Don't Have One

Raise your hand if you’ve ever had a Migraine.

If your hand is in the air right now, I feel bad for you for two reasons:

1) I was being figurative. Don’t raise your hand like an idiot just because Internet told you to.But I really feel for you because,
2) You are one of the millions of Americans who suffers through the agony and torture that is a Migraine.

Be honest, if you are a Migraine victim like me, don’t you get a little riled up when folks start throwing the term Migraine around too loosely?

“Ooooh! I have a headache that is a bit more uncomfortable than usual. I must have a Migraine.”

Oh, really? Are you nauseous? Have you lost most, if not all, of your vision? Do you want to crawl into a tiny crack in the universe and rot there for eternity? Does your head feel like the bomb-mask Arnold Schwarzenegger wore in Total Recall as it was peeling from his face?

No, you narcissistic, self-diagnosing attention-whore, you have what we call a “mild to imagined headache.” Take an Advil and stop being such a drama queen.

While we are on the subject, that tickle in your throat is likely just some overnight dust buildup. Change the air filter to your home ventilation system and stop speculating you might have Strep.

In a time of unprecedented advances in medical technology, we have become weak. Self-diagnosis and worse, over-diagnosis, has become our crutch. It is our ticket to attention and sympathy from others to fill our empty void or boost our self esteem.

Our primitive ancestors are rolling in their shallow, unmarked graves. They would be sick, actual sick, to hear the things we have invented and passed off as legitimate illnesses preventing us from work, school, activities and general human interaction.

As a nation, we waste billions of dollars in healthcare expenses. Soon our elected officials face a vote that could change the scope of government involvement in the treatment of all these made up ailments.

My politically neutral question is, if we are willing to pay so much money now to go to a doctor every time we have the sniffles or a pretend Migraine…what will happen when we don’t even have to pay for the treatment of any of these new diseases we convince ourselves victims of?

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Handy Manny: Bringing Down La Raza

My kid loves the cartoon Handy Manny.

I, on the other hand, have several issues with Senior Manuel,

First, why is Manny pigeonholed into the profession of Handyman? What is that teaching our kids about young, Mexican, migrant workers? Why can't he be, "Attorney Manny," or "Loan Officer Manny," or "Certified Public Accountant Manny?" There are plenty of ethnically motivated scholarships that would afford Manny a college education.

Secondly, try and find a normal, successful white man on that show. The best cook in the town is Mexican (OK, that's pretty true to real life), the Mayor is Mexican, and the owner of the hardware store is a woman.

The only white man on the show, Mr. Lopar, is a bumbling, sexually ambiguous candy store owner who snuggles his cat and lives with his mom.

Third, I don't want my kid getting folk tales mixed up. I work long and hard to convince my kid that there's a tooth fairy who will come take his tooth away when it falls out. This tooth fairy is kind and leaves money under the pillow. It eases fears and helps him cope with the idea of losing his beloved teeth. It's a tried and tested story. It works.

This arrogant Latino, Manny, trying to impose his own belief system, comes along telling tales of a tooth mouse that takes your teeth at night. This may be a Mexican tradition, but you're in America, Amigo. Now my kid is afraid of teeth-looting mice crawling under the pillow at night. Gracias, Manny.

Lastly, while I don't have a problem with shows that teach kids different languages, I do take issue with Manny teaching my kid the jargon of blue-collar workers. What would be wrong with teaching my kid things like, "I would like a sausage breakfast burrito" in Spanish? It's useful. There would be no miscommunication when ordering food at Rolberto's. Even phrases like, "I really like your silk shirt and low-rider truck, my friend," would help build relationships.

Instead, Manny is teaching kids how to order a pallet of sod in Espanol. Thanks. Now if my kid decides on a career in landscaping, communicating with co-workers won't be an issue.

Most people don't even know how to speak English correctly, so why teach them Spanish? Cases in point, the following errors are frequently made, even by adults:

"For all intensive purposes." I don't care how intensive those purposes are, it's pronounced "for all intents and purposes."

"Grant it/Granite," as in, "I like him, grant it he looks like a troll." Thank you for offering me a grant, but it's actually "Granted."

"All-timers/Old Timers Disease." Try Alzheimer's next time.

"Supposably." No such word. It's "supposedly."

"Doggy-Dog World." Maybe for Snoop. For the rest of us it's a "dog-eat-dog" world.

"Expecially." There is no X in "especially."

"Mute" point. Regardless of it's volume, the point is "moot."

You get the point. But it begs the question: Why not have "Grammatically Correct Manny," a cartoon about a well-spoken immigrant who teaches kids the importance of learning the language in their country of residence?

Saturday, March 6, 2010

March Madness Madness

We want to welcome our very special guest blogger! Greg is of iconic stature among sports authorities, intramural three pointer kings and political pundits. Today, Greg sounds off about his thought on the expansion of the crown jewel of human innovation, the NCAA Tournament. Greg?

Let me preface my rant this way, I love March Madness. In my opinion, it’s the best sporting event around. I can sit and watch the games from morning to night. So, I was a little ticked when I heard that the NCAA is seriously considering expanding the field of 65, to the field of…96. Really? Why take something that can be tweaked a little and then blow it up into something unbearable. Is Obama running the NCAA now? Sorry to all the Obama lovers out there, I couldn’t resist!

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy more of many things I love. For example, at a fast food place, if I’m asked if I would like extra cheese, the response is always “absolutely”. But, 18 extra slices of cheese on my double-double is too much. And that’s how I feel about expansion.

There are only a few things better than getting my bracket and seeing what matchups I like and who has the easiest/toughest road to the Final 4. What would a bracket of 96 look like? Do the top 2 teams in each region get a bye? Look, I like reading Bracketology on I like Lenardi’s predictions of the 1st four/next four out the tournament. I don’t look at it and say “We need to find a way to get those 8 teams in the tourney…and an additional 24 teams too.”

I hope the day never comes where I hear the following uttered:

“Finally, the A-10 got 4 teams in the tournament!”

“Yeah, it was a great tournament! Did you see that Marist/IUPUI-South Bend game?”

I find it funny the NCAA is so willing to expand. This is how I see the conversation going:

Me: If you expand you could make more money, but you’d ruin the whole thing.
NCAA: Great
Me: Student athletes would be away from campus more days.
NCAA: That’s fine
Me: They could potentially miss valuable class time that helps their education.
NCAA: They’re big boys, they can handle it.
Me: Ok then, how about an NCAA football playoff?
NCAA: F%$# You…

I’m not cheap, but I can be bought. If I hear a good argument in favor of expansion I could potentially change my mind. Until then, I ain’t budging.

I think the Madness can be tweaked. What about 3 more play in games in addition to the one already played? 2 play in games Tuesday and 2 games Wednesday. Each #1 seed gets a play in winner. I think any more games would have to add another weekend which I would be against. Feel free to sound off.


Thanks Greg, good stuff. Oh, and here is another picture of Jessica Biel.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

It's Not Wrong if it's On Your Bucket List

Some buddies of mine started a “Bucket List” of sporting events they want to attend. I thought this might be a good forum to unveil my own bucket list of things I want to see (live, TV doesn’t count) before I die. Here goes:

1. NCAA Final Four
2. BCS National Championship
3. Red Sox vs Yankees playoff game at Fenway
4. Ice Dancing
5. NBA Finals Game 7
6. Jessica Biel on a Slip ‘N’ Slide
7. Big East Tournament at Madison Square Garden
8. Angelina Jolie selecting a new child
9. The Kentucky Derby
10. Ohio State vs Michigan at the Big House
11. Lebron James lifting weights with his shirt off
12. Lance Armstrong shooting roids
13. Utah State in a bowl game
14. The look on his face the day Tony Romo finally decides to get a sex change
15. The complete destruction of the Laker franchise and all Laker paraphernalia
16. Mike Tyson debating health care against Richard Simmons
17. A local teenager actually completing a trick on his skateboard
18. Rosie O’Donnell in a slap fight with Bill O’Reilly
19. A midget doing a fist pump
20. Jack Bauer asking if Chloe understands him
21. The following people punched in the face:
• Nancy Pelosi
• Kobe Bryant
• Rachel Maddow
• Sarah Palin
• Ron Artest
• Jay Leno
• Anyone ever on Real World/Road Rules challenges
• Nancy Pelosi
• Kei$ha
• Jersey Shore
• The PC/Mac guys
• Saturday Night Live for the last three years
• Al Gore
• Dora the Explorer
• Max
• Ruby
• Their Grandma
• Nancy Pelosi
• My friend Luke

I’m sure I missed someone or something. What goes on your list? Oh, and here is another picture of Jessica Biel.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Serenity Now

I just watched the Seinfeld episode where Frank Costanza is saying "Serenity Now" to keep from getting mad. At the end of the episode, Lloyd Braun tells George Costanza that saying "Serenity Now" is only bottling up anger, and eventually it will come spilling out in a rage.

This is my release of frustrations I experienced over the past week to keep me from Frank Costanza-ing someone.

Here they are in no particular order:

10. Pouring a bowl of cereal, only to find out there's no milk - This might be the biggest disappointment of my life. I could have a son end up as the only boy on the flag team in high school, but even that wouldn't match my disappointment of finding a milk-less fridge when I have a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch waiting.

9. Gaucho Pants (see picture) - Capri pants were confusing enough, but now I'm dealing with ladies wearing gaucho pants. I don't know how to compliment them. I usually end up saying, "Nice pants... I mean, shorts... I mean, skirt...I mean, sweats... I mean... you look like a pirate...I mean..." and it just goes on like that for about 10 minutes until I walk away in shame.

8. Subscription cards falling out of magazines - I feel like a magician with these things. It's like that trick with the never-ending handkerchief coming out of the top hat.

7. Waitresses younger than me that call me "darling" or "sweetie" - If I am in a truck stop in Montana and a 50-year-old with smoker's lung calls me "darlin'," it's endearing. When a 17-year-old at Chili's calls me "darlin'," I feel like Chris Hansen and his To Catch a Predator crew is waiting behind the corner to hear my response.

6. People who speak with a question inflection at the end of statements - Here's the phrase: "The other day, I went to the store and I bought a gallon of milk." Here's how some people make it sound, "The other day? I went to the store? and I bought a gallon of milk?" I'm always confused as to how I should answer.

5. Watching people sing - I literally can't watch someone sing in church anymore. People always think they sing better than they actually do. And when they start getting into it and crinkle their nose and close their eyes, I feel like someone needs to be embarrassed, and - inexplicably - I always end up bearing the brunt of the embarrassment.

4. People text messaging during a movie - I'm trying to enjoy the movie, but the corner of my eye keeps catching flickers of light from Tiffany Texty over there talking to her BFF about IDK what, but it makes them both LOL and apparently can't wait until L8R.

3. Tyler Perry - Everything this guy does has been done before, yet everyone treats it like he is a comedic genius. Madea = Mrs. Doubtfire, I Think I Love My Wife Too = Couple's Retreat, House of Payne = every sitcom ever made. It's almost like if Tyler Perry does it, it is now OK for black people to laugh at it.

2. Wide Necks on T-Shirts - My wife bought me a T-shirt the other day that I thought was cool when I first looked at it. I put it on, though, and looked like I was wearing an ice-skating costume. Note to fashion designers: normal guys like necks that fit snugly. Brian Boitano does not represent the every-man.

1. Sharing dairy products - I don't know why, but I would rather eat rat poison than share ice cream, milkshakes, or a glass of milk with someone - including my wife. I realize this offenders her, but it's like dairy magnifies, locks in, and slimes up backwash from others. I don't want any part of that disgustingness

Ahhhhhh.... I feel so much better.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Sweaty Pits: The Quiet Killer

Dear Science,

Please invent a cure for sweaty pits. I know you are currently focused on Global Warming and Cancer, but I beg you to turn your attention to an equally noble cause. Sweaty pits is a disease with no regard to its victims race, sex or age. The first human contracted sweaty pits from an infected African monkey and it has since spread at an epidemic rate never seen before.

Sweaty pits causes severe discomfort, embarrassment, lack of self-esteem and in some cases even death.

I confess I am so far a little disappointed in you, Science. You can put a man on the moon, but not a dry man. You have a pill that regulates a woman’s cycle, but you can do nothing about constant underarm wetness.

However, I am willing to put the past behind us if you will reallocate your time and energy to help solve this global crisis. I know your resources are limited, but let’s face it: We’re too late on Global Warming and cancer just isn’t going anywhere.


Dear Investors,

I am looking for any interested in the research and development of some sort of armpit maxi pad. I don’t have to tell you, this will be the biggest clothing breakthrough since the discovery of underwear. Revenues promise to be upwards of 60 billion per year. This product will become an immediate necessity for men ages 12-dead as soon as it hits the shelves.

If you are interested in this exciting investment opportunity, please contact me as soon as possible with the amount of money you want to invest. Please, no more than 10million per person.


Dear God,

Is this some kind of joke?


Monday, March 1, 2010

BYU Cougars: Perfecting Incredulity

If I could sum up BYU Incredulity, it would be this video, particularly the look on Jonathan Tavernari's face at around 0:15 (you can pause it for further review).

BYU teams have perfected the art of seeming incredulous since before that breakthrough day when neatly-groomed mustaches were finally allowed on campus

If you haven't ever had an altercation with anyone associated with BYU, here are the 4 things you should expect - I think they're Articles of Faith 14-17:

1. We believe in getting Angry - BYU fans may claim to be representing the Lord's University, but when these seemingly mild-mannered fans fly off the handle, they get downright nasty. And it's usually over something you wouldn't have predicted getting that kind of rise. Make a careless joke about their basketball coach's cancer, or a harmless comment about Austin Collie being attracted to Peyton Manning's forehead, and a non-caffeinated soda might smash into your face.

2. We believe in reacting oddly - No punches will ever be thrown,but really harsh words will be spoken. A mention of the 1984 NCAA National Championship will be brought up, accusations of one's lack of Christianity will be made, and a strong word like "hell," "ass," or "damn" may be used. Never any of the major cusses though. BYU fans tend to get redder and shake more than typical angry human beings and sound like they are going to cry for most of the argument.

3. We believe in laughing maniacally - Whenever the other person involved in the altercation matches the BYU affiliate's level of intensity, said BYU affiliate will laugh. Not a controlled laugh that makes their opponent feel embarrassed, but more of a crazy, overly loud laughter that makes everyone involved feel uncomfortable (please see Tavernari's reation during the first few seconds of the altercation in the video).

4. We believe in being incredulous - This is what BYU coaches look for when recruiting players and what BYU fans try their entire life to perfect. They are the chosen ones of God. They belong to the true university. How could anyone possibly be mad at any of their actions? If you can effectively sum up these previous statements in one single facial expression, you will be strutting your stuff on the Provo campus in no time - at least until 8 p.m., because strutting after 8 p.m. is against the Honor Code.

Just think, Cougars, whenever the NCAA decides to make balancing chips on your shoulder a sanctioned sport, you'll finally have another national championship to celebrate.