The Satan Clause

So Rachel's mom recently figured out I had a sense of humor. That's a relief. Maybe now she will forgive me for desecrating her childhood memories of Santa. This was the first time meeting Rachel's family. You know what they say about second impressions: nothing because who cares about them. First impressions are ingrained in people's memories forever. People care. I am much more opened minded than that: I judge everyone as harshly every time as the first time I meet them. Anyway, first impressions are the official judging phase of introductions.

So everyone encircled around me and the inquisition began. Somehow we were talking about Santa (did I mention this was the weekend after Thanksgiving?). Rachel's mom just loves Santa to death. For some gosh awful reason I thought it would be funny to point out that Satan is an anagram for Santa. Pretty cool huh? No not cool.

She goes on to calmly explain why she thinks it's OK to like Santa and why she doesn't feel he is evil. I just sit there not trying to make it worse by pointing out that I was just being "funny." Just another reason why I need practice being funny.

Parking Violators

I had a friend at work post a blog about someone who parked terribly at the grocery store parking lot. Bad parking for sure. But nowhere near as bad as my little Rachel. Worst parker alive.

Here is Rachel's parking at her average. I took this photo this morning.

Not too, too shabby. She's mostly in the lines. I should point out that she tries really, really hard at this. She gives it her best go. But really it is always a crap shoot with her.

Nevertheless, brace yourself for the worst parking job of the last 250 thousand years. And I of all people was the parking violator in question.

In all honesty Rachel has done worse (parking right over that line) but we don't have current photographic record to amuse ourselves with.

So parking isn't my thing. And it definitely isn't Rachel's. I do all right most of the time since that infamous day. Bear in mind that I was rushed and those empty spots in the photo were all crammed with cars and the car that was parked in front of me was over the line a little. And I had trouble squeezing beside the colossal gas/space guzzler truck next to me. It was a tight fit and Ol' Betsy (may she rest in pieces) was a hefty gal. Did I mention I was running late for class?

Rachel blames her bad parking on a lack of visualization. I blame mine on laziness, carelessness, nonchalantitiy, laziness, poor training, and lack of hand eye coordination. And laziness.

Did I mention I got 6 parking tickets in a 2 month period at BYU? But that was only because I couldn't register my vehicle because. . . I don't know. There was a reason. I think it needed a new everything to pass safety and emissions.

Americanish Is Going to the Dawgs

'K so anyone who doesn't know nothing about no history of no language thinks they know the English language is going to hella in a hand basket. Well, they are wrong.

Texting is often criticized for its unique (aka bad) spelling and interesting (aka no) use of punctuation. Mark Twain says it best, "Before the spelling-book came with its arbitrary forms, men unconsciously revealed shades of their characters and also added enlightening shades of expression to what they wrote by their spelling, and so it is possible that the spelling-book has been a doubtful benevolence to us."

He also says "I don't see any use in having a uniform and arbitrary way of spelling words. We might as well make all clothes alike and cook all dishes alike. Sameness is tiresome; variety is pleasing. I have a correspondent whose letters are always a refreshment to me, there is such a breezy unfettered originality about his orthography. He always spells Kow with a large K. Now that is just as good as to spell it with a small one. It is better. It gives the imagination a broader field, a wider scope. It suggests to the mind a grand, vague, impressive new kind of a cow.
- speech at a spelling match, Hartford, Connecticut, May 12, 1875. Reported in the Hartford Courant, May 13, 1875

No punctuation? That is just classical. The ancient Greeks had no need for punctuation and they turned out some of the best literature ever written. It wasn't until later that punctuation was added to songs so the singers knew when to take breaths. Do you need someone to tell you when to breath? That's called fascism.

And we also don't speak English English anyway. You know you wouldn't want to for nothing. We speak American English, or Americanish for short, which the Brits think is just atrocious.

The thing to remember about texting: form follows function, not the other way round. Punctuation was invented for clarity. Therefore, if the msg is clear w/o something then its function is no longer relevant.

One day my collective generation will raise an angry collective fist in the air as high as our old collective arm will reach to the lazy kids who instead of saying "for shiz" as we correctly did when we were young folk, will then say "fiz." Lazy efficient independent thinking delinquents. And on that day when I am an old man (if I live that long), I will look at whatever new fangled device is hot on the street and say, "the brainwaves kids are transmitting these days are so ungrammatical. Americanish is going to the dawgs!"

Controversially Boring

We all know it's better to be feared than loved. And being unloved and unfeared is the worst ever. No one cares about that. But I ask is it better to be controversial or totally accepted?

So I watched the one and only aired episode of "Heil Honey I'm Home!" No surprise it was controversial, which is why I was initially interested in watching it. It also comes as no big surprise that it was cancelled after only one episode due to its controversial nature. What is controversial about a sitcom about Adolf at home with Eva and their obnoxious Jewish neighbors? I thought it was funny but maybe should have been the length of an SNL skit. I think it would get boring after the debut episode anyway once it's initial hullabaloo wore off.

I sometimes write blogs or whatnot that people dare to disagree with. Don't they know that I am insanely right all the time!

Sometimes I do this with the intention of convincing people of my rightness. Other times I hope they vehemently hate me (a rock needs no friends). Other times I hope they just click the "like" button. If I were a status would you click my "like" button?

I figure if everyone agrees with me then I am probably stating the obvious or commonly acceptedness. E.g., pie is yumtacular. Boring ya? Ya. Agreed.

A little controversy never hurt anyone. Except for minorities and lots of people in Nagasaki. Yulp see right there, controversy. This post is getting boring though.

I guess the most I can hope for is to be remembered as controversially boring. I should end with a bang so I can get lots of discussion going. Death panels will come for your grandma in her sleep! The moon landing was faked by Barack Insane Obama! Cake is for morons!

The Dishonor Code

I am just gonna say it. BYU's honor code is stupid. There I said it. It's been said. Out here on the Internet. Now what? I guess I have to sizzle lightly in heck now for eternity. Might as well grow my beard out if I am gonna burn anyway. Too late, already did that (the beard not the burn). Forget that, where's the O'Doul's?

K so here's why it's stupid. First the phrase "on your honor" has nothing to do with the honor code. Because you are not on your honor. You are watched closely by the Ystopo. I just invented that term BTW (the Y + Gestapo + stop = Ystopo). Anyway the Ystopo has an army of moles who are on their honor to rat you out or be considered an accomplice to unauthorized facial hair or using the wrong gender restroom without preapproved medical emergency.

So it's hypocritical. Also no beards? That's pretty hypocritical considering the school's founder was famous for his beard. I won't bring in someone else really famous and has a long beard too.

They make a weekday curfew for opposite genders. That's cool. Midnight. I get it so no sex right? Sure. Except then why is the curfew on Friday 1:30am? If there were any time to have sex with your girlfriend/boyfriend/random stranger it would be a Friday night, you know so you could sleep in the next day. No homework due the next day. Yeah, makes no sense. Unless their strategy is to get you to do your homework. Thanks mom!

That's pretty much all the honor code has to offer. Except for the regular stuff like the other rules Mormons need to follow. Oh and no cheating on tests. Good thing we have the honor code to tell us that. If the Ystopo tortures a confession out of me, I'll just tell them the beard made me do it.

Twilight Sequels

Twilight can't be out of the limelight yet! Here are some ideas for sequels centered on Edward and Bella's daughter Renesmee.

Nighttime

Bella's daughter Resmeneaia has to choose between the Native American werewolf Jacob and the mysterious Ricardo, a new boy at preschool without any friends. Ricardo doesn't say much but he has a terrible secret. She is captivated by his long stares and lack of friends. He doesn't nap during nap time. She follows him and sees him eating the class hamster. She discovers he only eats the flesh of the living. But he is a nice zombie who only eats dogs and mice (and hamsters). Meanwhile a sinister zombie is eating human brains creating a secret zombie army at the middle school across the street. Facing charges of pedophilia, Jacob leaves saying he wants to save Rensmareia from getting her face mauled up by accident. Then the bad zombies strike the preschool and try to eat Resmerlena. But a nice older man comes to her rescue. It's Patrick, the groundskeeper from Egypt with a dark secret; he is really an ancient mummy looking for a new bride. He gives Rasnemer the talisman of amun rur, which claims her as his new wife in the afterlife. Patrick and Ricardo fight and Ricardo is wounded but manages to escape. Resniena gets advice from her mother who suggests she becomes friends with the two until her lover werewolf returns to her. Bella says, "String them along as long as you need comfort." But then Ricardo is conveniently decapitated by a bad zombie and in the process saves Resmemererre.

Crescent Moon

Now that the Circle of Ancient Mummies has heard about Patrick's revealing of his identity, they kidnap Resmerlian and take her to Cairo. Warned by Patrick, who has revealed himself as King Tut, Bella and Edward follow her trail but are met by the Bride of Frankenstein ex-wife from Edward's mortal life. She was resurrected by a mad scientist. She wishes to reunite with her former lover Edward but the scientist promised the Frankenstein male that he would make him a wife. Edward is torn because his once deceased yet now Alive! wife is bringing back painful memories. He decides he must free her from the life she doesn't want. Trapped in indecision Bella calls Jacob and tells him that Rashmena has been abducted by the Circle of Mummies. Jacob rushes to meet them but fears her death as the mummies announce her drowning. Not wanting to live without the girl he swore weeks ago he would live without, Jacob lunges into a silver chair but is not mortally wounded. He wakes to find Restlemania alive. She was thrown into the sea but was saved by a charming merman. She was hurt by Jacob's leaving but still loves Jacob and knows he would only abuse her emotionally because he loves her. She also loves Pete, the merman who saved her. The question remains will she live with Jacob or return to the sea.

As Seen on Feeling a ‘Lil Bloggy

The worst way to sell me a product: place the "As Seen on TV!" logo right on the box. What is the strategy here? If it was on TV it must be good. Here is a list of things seen on TV:

1) Obamacare

2) Hitler (See #1 [JK calm down crazy])

3) Lifetime original movies

4) "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV"

5) Hurricane Katrina

6) Pedophiles on "To Catch a Predator with Chris Hansen"

7) The Yankees

8) Batman and Robin

'K you get the idea. Also there is a stigma in my brain closely associated with crazy sales people (HI! BILLY MAYS HERE! ON OXYCOTTON!) and products sold on infomercials. To purposely link the product in question with the widely clichéd and pathetically obvious sales approach is a big mistake. Wait there's more! What a surprise. . . . But it is nice to have a tip off warning me not to purchase said gimmicky item off the store shelves.

"You'll say WOW every time."

"You know the Germans make good stuff." (See #2)

The item we made an exception for: the PedEgg. If you don't know what the PedEgg is, it is basically a cheese grater for feet shaped like an egg for some reason (if you like scrambled eggs then you'll love this!). Rachel wanted one to make her statuesque feet smooth as a baby's buttocks. It works well as far as we can tell.

Bad sales approach on my part: she asked if it would hurt. I said (thinking back to the informative-commercial and the smooth talking packaging), "they use it on a balloon."

"No! I hate balloons!"

For complete reasoning why that was a terrible attempt at comforting Rachel please refer to Irrational, as seen on Rachel's blog in her own words. Anyway, now you know you can buy a PedEgg with confidence knowing you've seen it on Feeling a 'Lil Bloggy.

The Correct Level of Analysis

If there is one thing I have been accused of over the years, it's being too good at analyzing. People often ask me, "why do you overanalyze everything?"I usually choose to take it as a compliment. But then again after long careful considerate deliberation I must conclude that the word over cannot be a positive. Otherwise they would be asking why I always use the correct level of analysis. The answer to that question of course: because it's there [to be used]. Even the best attributes can be overcriticized with the use of over. For example "why do you overachieve?" or "why do you overshoot the drop zone?" or "why did you barbarians overrun that city?"

But wait there's more! Yikes there's so much to look at in this question. Where does one begin?

How about the word Everything? Like I have enough time to even underanalyze everything. So unrealistic. You always exaggerate. That's a joke. I realize it is not meant literally, but every side must be considered.

Secondly, and much more importantly, that question is guilty of the fallacy plurium interrogationum also know as a complex question. It is assuming that I am overanalyzing, a fact yet to be agreed on by both parties. To answer the question directly I would have to agree that I am overanalyzing something without addressing the erroneous assumption. My response in turn should be "why do you always ask fallacious questions?"

Why is underanalyze not a "real" word. I see a lack of dichotomy here. Not good. (BTW there's a word for the opposite of good: bad). But then again, I am using underanalyze now so it is a word. Phew that's comforting.

From Merriam-Webster

Over: so as to exceed or surpass (definition 2 of exceed: to be greater than or superior to)

+

Analyze: to study or determine the nature and relationship of the parts of by analysis

=

Exceedingly study the nature and relationship of the parts (sounds like a compliment to me!).

Besides I think Overanalyze is an oxymoron. If you analyze correctly there can be no overanalysis. We can never reach the limit of analysis. Unless you are omnipotent why would you ever stop studying something (except with time limitations and maybe a need to prioritize but that is more of an issue with the prioritization of resource dedication)? Either way the term overanalysis haters should be using is incorrectly analyze.

Why do I always overnalyze everything! Is this meant to be a rhetorical question? What kind of answer could the inquirer really be expecting? "Oh well, let me ponder that deeply for a moment. I suppose my overindulgence for analysis began when I was a small child. I think it comes from my mother's side of the family. They observed facts and deduced their meaning more than they should. I never listened to my father who always told me to keep one eye closed not to oversee. . ."

What is the goal of said question? Is it to incite annoyance in the hearer, namely me. Or is meant to humble me and make me feel bad enough to change my overanalytical (i.e., incorrectly analytical) ways. Thanks for the lesson, Socrates. Now I know everything should be considered superficially without a deeper context.

OK overanalysis naysayers, why don't you define for me the correct level of analysis. Can you even figure that out? I imagine the "correct" level analysis is something like "uh. . .like don't think too much I guess. I don't know. That's why I collect garbage/push papers/say yes for a living."

Whoa. Let's not get too carried away here. I could spend all day looking at the question in question. But I don't want to risk analyzing too much (as if there is such a thing). I'll stop here at the correct level of analysis. Or should I rather say the correct amount of analysis? Correct manner of analysis?

Invent These!

So it turns out my genius cheapway idea is already a reality somewhere else (stupid San Francisians and Washington DC-ers). Just as well, now I can spend more time working on my portable communication device. It will allow me to "call" people from long distances so they can "hear" my voice. Like a two way television with only audio.

Anyway here I present my solution to hand-washing grossness. I know we have automated water dispensers, but they don't let you control the temperature. My new very simple invention, with quick easy installation, makes it so you won't have to get your hands gross upon turning off the hot/cold/warm/icy water. Not that it matters: as soon as you leave the bathroom everything is gross. But that doesn't stop the germ haters from buying this kind of stuff.

Anyway my solution is quite simple. You simply reinstall a new Water Faucet Temperature Control Handle Operation System. Basically it ensures (when used properly) that a dirty hand operates the water control system from a different piece than the clean hand which turns the water off. You turn it on and adjust the water flow/temperature with the "dirty" lever and turn it off (with clean hands) with the "clean" lever.

The diagrams illustrate further. Also a unifaucet version could be used as well (shown last). Let's see those freeway engineers invent these babies! Knowing my luck they are already using these in Japan.

Also I have an idea for another invention, a square device but without corners and is sorta roundish. It can be used to "roll" stuff places. "Wheel" see how that invention goes.

"Normal" sink.

Version 1 of new hygienic sink

Version 2 of hygienic sink

Version 3 (with colors for hot and cold)

Unifaucet (can have 1 or 2 bars)

What’s All the Blogger Buzz About?

So I saw that Blogger Buzz had over 3,000 followers. Whoa that's a lot. That many followers would get you a religion by UK Census standards. (How do I gain my own Bloger-based religion?) While reading the boring not so great Blogger Buzz, I saw it had links to these 3,000 "followers." So I was curious and clicked on a few to see what their blogs were like. Am I par the course?

This one is hilarious but not on purpose:
http://sangkutsa.blogspot.com/

"All it takes is 250 cups of White Hat Yogurt for us to provide one scholar with one year of high school education, and when one unites, it can do so much more."

Isn't high school free?

Aside from this, most of the blogs were so-so that I looked at. They read like family Christmas letters. Some were nearly funny or accidentally funny and some were a little interesting and a little funny (on purpose). Most tried too hard or not enough. Many took themselves way too seriously. I probably fit one of those last three categories.

I guess most blogs (including mine?) are written in a way that only family and friends of the author would give a poo about. And that's the way they likes it.

So is my blog pretty OK in comparison? Iunno, maybe. It's not as popular as that lying potty mouth Julie Powell's blog. They probably won't ever make my blog into half a movie (without taking some big liberties). But then again, why would I want my life to only amount to half a movie? That's lame. I will take a whole movie or none at all. But if I unite I can do so much more!
I'll leave you with these words of wisdom:

"Every moments with her..every minutes with her...every seconds with her...and i wished that she'll never was to be a part of me before!!!"

Right on, brother.

The Sky Is Falling (Into Obama’s Hands)!

I think it's funny how crazy these Repubs can be sometimes. Almost as crazy as the crazy Demo[n]crats. Repubs sometimes suffer from mass hystericalness. Probably because Rusharoundlikeachickenwithitsheadcutoff Limbaugh and the like are such alarmists all the time. They are like Chicken Littles without heads. Glenn Beck is always good for a laugh but not from his jokes (because those ain't funny).

So I get forwarded a ton of these activists grassroots emails (I stopped weighing them after the first couple tons). Anyway I get forwarded these ultraconservative emails from my ultrahyperconservative friend. My views, though, are really very conservative though my grassroots don't run deep (only as far as Facebook). My philosophy: government = dumb. Dumb = bad. We should limit dumbness; therefore, we should limit government. OK preaching over. Funny ranting start. These emails are always very urgent about every cause they are for or against or whatever. The sky is falling: write your senator! The following is an excerpt from the most recent of these emails calling all Americans who love their country to action.

"For months, President Obama has all-but threatened to use the EPA to bypass Congress and seize government control of the air we breathe -- especially if Congress could not pass Cap and Tax. That plan is just weeks away from full implementation through the EPA."

This email goes on for ages about faxing our senators and the diabolical way Obama is seizing power of our air unconstitutionally. No not our air. I breathe that to live! Pretty soon life will be like Mars in Total Recall. "The Governator will be shouting "[Obama] give these people air!" We'll have to pay taxes to breathe. And there will be mutants as a result for some reason. He can't claim the sky! Noooo! The sky is falling into Obama's hands if we don't stop him.

Ride’n the Cheapway

Every day I drive home in traffic. And I think boy I wish I were going the other way, the empty-ish way. Everyone is driving the same direction as me. I think this must be the same commuting issue in every big city, only much, much worse in larger cities like Los Angeles. This is why they invented carpool lanes right? So people will be rewarded and encouraged to drive together and clog up freeways less. That's great for the carpoolers but it doesn't solve the problem. What it does is empty up a perfectly good lane for a few lucky drivers with coworker buddies.

Don't get me wrong: I am all for carpooling. It's good for the environment. It builds comradeliness. It saves gas (i.e., money). It puts fewer cars on the road. Which is good for everyone. Yay carpooling! What I am against is carpool lanes. Especially now that any hybrid owner can get himself a fast pass. This isn't Disneyland, folks. (I do confess I will hate carpool lanes slightly less when I am carpooling with Rachel to work next month).

OK so I have a better solution. It's not free but it is relatively cheap. I realize it is expensive to widen the freeway by building more lanes. And land has to be purchased and businesses scooched over. That is no good is it. Since we really have an issue of resource mismanagement the issue can be resolved by managing our resources smarter. I don't know anything about business or engineering but I have common sense. I know that it is better to maximize the utility you get out of your resources, in this case freeway lanes.

I drew up these very detailed (haha) plans. The freeway would consist of three sections. One section (with 3 lanes) permanently rides north. One section (also 3 lanes) permanently rides south. This is where it gets tricky. The third section (in the middle with 2 lanes) is designated for northbound traffic in the morning and south during rush hour when traffic is heavy going away from the city. Between the morning time and evening switch, there is a long buffer period where no cars will be allowed in the center lanes. With the possible exception of police and other emergency vehicles (maybe). If they were then emergency vehicle drivers would be trained to know to stay to the right of the middle two lanes as if it were a normal street. Violators of course would be hit with a steep penalty as violation of this law could be dangerous.

Signs would be posted clearly, which would be automated to switch during alternating periods. The middle lanes would be separated by concrete barriers and entered though by designated points. Entrance signs would dictate hours of operation. Anyway I think my design would save lots of money for the American people in the long run. It is the cheapway to go. Haha good pun, no? Yeah no.

Another possible variation. Have the two lanes revert to 1 lane northbound and 1 lane southbound during non heavy traffic period. This may incorporate some extra precautions to avoid accident by confused morons who think they own the road. I don't see any necessity in it though.

Low Enrollment Rate

So I just checked my Google analytics spy program tracking technology device, and hardly anyone reads Jonathan Reddoch University. Sad day (sad face). But that's OK. I guess it is not as cool and trendy as my real blog. Basically I just needed a place to dump my dumpy writings. That's what it's doing, serving as a landfill for amateur science-fiction rejects. JRU probably appeals to a much smaller audience. I had multiple days with only two visitors. Just me and my devoted fan base (Rachie McRachelson). Plus it's random junk that nobody would want to read anyways. Czech Your Calendar? Probably 3 old people read that in the whole country.

I don't know. Rachel likes it. Then again she likes everything I do, so she's not the best measurement for this sort of thing. I mean I could write blick balck blook bear snarf fruhling nervous spider monkey pogo stick and she would laugh. "Oh hehe," she'd say, "you are so cute and funny, my husband."

That's good enough. She's the only pupil I need. Who cares if no one wants to get matriculated?

Pair of Doxes

Rachel talks in her sleep. She has conversations in her sleep. She has dilemmas. She has paradoxes.

Rachel: I'm cold!

Jonathan: Do you want me to get you an extra blanket?

Rachel: No! They're covered in bugs.

Jonathan: No they aren't, sill [sic].

Rachel: Yes. They have 43 ladybugs on them!

 

25 minutes later. . .

Rachel: I'm cold!

Jonathan: Do you want me to get you an extra blanket?

Rachel: No! They're covered in bugs.

Jonathan: They aren't, really.

Rachel: Yes. They have 43 ladybugs on them!

 

10 minutes later. . .

Rachel: I'm cold!

Jonathan: Do you want me to get you an extra blanket?

Rachel: No! They're covered in bugs.

Jonathan: I am gonna get you an extra blanket.

Rachel: No! They have 43 ladybugs on them!

 

15 minutes later. . .

Rachel: I'm cold!

Jonathan: Do you want me to get you an extra blanket?

Rachel: No! They're covered in bugs.

Jonathan: That's OK we'll just eat them.

Rachel: No we don't eat bugs! You're silly.

Pledge Driven

I think most people have to agree that I am pretty smart. I am smart about remembering facts. I am smart about most life decisions. I think critically and analytically. I am a genius about picking a wife. I always did well on tests in school. I would do well on Jeopardy! I am a decent editor. And so on and so forth.

But. I am dumb when it comes to little things. I can be quite absent minded. One time I put the milk cap into my cup of milk. Wait that's not where that goes. One time I put the milk in the cupboard. I've poured milk and forgotten about it. Not to mention buying milk and forgetting to put it in the fridge. Or buying milk and putting it in the fridge then accidently buying more milk that doesn't get drankened. Good thing I am lactose intolerant now. My intolerance for lactose keeps me from ruining more milk. If there is one thing I do not tolerate, it is lactose!

Once I waited at a stop sign under the big flashing UVU advertisement sign for like 3 minutes while I waited for the light to change. And don't get me started on potlucks. I can't figure those out for the life of me.

I have worked at WGU for a year now (full-time since December). And I still find a way to screw up my timecard every single pay period. My boss must think I am completely special (we don't say retarded anymore). I don't know what is wrong with me. Every time, my boss emails me that I forgot to fill it out or email it in (when I was an independent contractor) or filled out half or filled it out but didn't save it or didn't put the right amount of hours in or worked on a holiday when I wasn't supposed to or forgot to put in my vacation time and save it or, like today, forgot to put my lunches in. Somehow I always assume I did it right this time. La de da. Then I get the email and am somehow surprised (and super embarrassed) that I am not competent in this one very easy area of an otherwise complex vocation. No thinking is even involved. Just filling out a thingy. One measly little thingy.

I think I am really good about learning from my dumb mistakes and not repeating them, but as the various milk mishaps and variations of faulty timecard filling out demonstrate, I am equally adept at discovering new ways to foul up. And it actually took me several embarrassing (AKA funny to others) failures but I got the potluck thing down. So I know I can get this right too. I vow a vow and pledge a pledge that I am going to get it right at least once. No not once. I am gonna get it right every time. But don't worry, I'll easily find something else to routinely muff up.

Sarcasm. . .Whatever

"Cool" old people know a whooooole lot about me and my generation. Apparently. . .

The "so-called" greatest generation are like "whoa dude you kids talk all sarcastically and stuff. My generation shot Hitler's eyes out and saved the earth from total destruction or something. We are the greatest generation pretty much ever." Yeah greatest generation of worst parents. If they are so great why are all their kids hippies? Awesome job greatest generation!

OK I can't stereotype my generation anymore; it's giving me a headache. But I still mean the gist of that stuff I said. We are sarcastic but so what? That's our thing. They had their rock and roll and world wars. We have sarcasm and reality TV.

Sarcasm is here to stay. Until the next generation is born and starts making cheerful politeness and optimism popular again. Blagh, can't wait for that! The biggest challenge my generation has communicating is how to communicate sarcasm through texts and IMs. Sure we can just auto-assume that sarcasm is ever present but you know what happens when we assume? Something about a donkey. . . .Anyway, here are the ten best ways to get that sarcasm out front and center. Subtlety is the best! Examples are demonstrated above.

1) Ahhh! Scare quotes. From the Chicago Manual of "Style": "Quotation marks are often used to alert readers that a term is used in a nonstandard, ironic, or other special sense."

2) Use a less than flattering way of saying something. If you know a euphemism for something, use the something that the euphemism is for. E.g., crazies instead of mentally disturbed.

3) Add extra letters to represent saying the word really long. Go ahead, lay it on real thick. A grammatical exxxxxxpert from WikiAnswers: "There Just Trying to be Dramatic lol-"

4) Use ellipses after the sarcastic word or phrase. This is nonstandard outside the rising new grammar of texting. OK. . .

5) Adding words after the fact to create a sense of distrust. E.g., apparently, or something, sure, and whatever. Right. Whatever.

6) Adding "so-called" or "supposed" before something to deride it disrespectfully. The "so-called" Chicago Manual of Style: "The expression ["so-called"] itself indicates irony or doubt."

7) Phrase something so it is obviously incorrect. Show you don't care by purposefully disregarding its importance. Old people love this!

8) Hyperbole can be a very negative tool. It's so super amazing! But be careful because it can also be taken to mean really positive hyperbole. Consider your hyper intelligent super brainy audience.

9) Take a positive phrase and amend it to add a negative ending. If Triumph the Insult Comic dog read this he would say: "This is a good blog. For me to poop on!"

10) If by the context something couldn't possibly be positive, it isn't. From the mouth of Rachel J Reddoch regarding any terrible crises: "That's good." Yeah do that.

So I guess apparently that's an awesome way to supposedly be "sarcasssstic." If you're dumb. Whatever. . .

I am Just a Red Itch to Scratch

So the customer service cyborg man keeps calling me Jonathan Red-Itch. Probably the stress is getting to him from his crazy work hours. He works all the time! And he works for my credit card company and my cell phone company. Sometimes I call him. Sometimes he calls me. We are pretty close by now. So you would think I wouldn't have to keep correcting him. Where does he get the "itch" from? I could see "awch" but not "ich" so much. Reddoch pronounced as Reddock is way too incredible for him.

Spellcheck always wants to call me Jonathan Reddish. They also suggest Reddick (guess Bill Gates is a big fan of the Chronicles of). Reditch works for me. I say we stick with that. Rachel and I will be Red Itches. At least I will have one less problem calling my credit card company. Dial 1 to be told you don't know how to pronounce your own name. Sorry to be such a red itchy annoyance, customer service cyborg.

Actually after Googling red itch, the results are not pretty. Well whatever, neither am I.

Shrieks from the Basement

So Rachel is insane. Not because she is afraid of balloons and gross monster bugs. And not because she can't visualize anything. Those things are just funny/normal/bizarre. She is really only crazy when she is "sleeping." I say it with quotes because she has normal human sleep mode but also her own unique brand of crazy Rachel sleeping. She might look awake and act awake, but she ain't awake. And by act I mean act out. Usually she just shouts in her sleep about some nightmare she is going through (especially at 5am). Usually the pattern is something like, "No don't . . . ."

I only have myself to blame (at least that is Rachel's prognosis) for this last one. I was finishing reading or Facebooking or blogging or some such nonsense on the computer. So I was about to turn off the light. I saw Rachel looking awakish. So as a joke I said, "OK I'm going to work now. I'll see you later." She freaks out and shouts over and over while clutching me in her death grip, "No don't leave me!"

It's half an hour later and she still hasn't released me even to go turn the light off. I manage to break free long enough to turn the light off. She keeps begging me not to leave her. She wants to know why I don't love her. "Is it because I am fat?"

"You're not fat and I love you. I am not going anywhere."

"Is it because I'm not green?"

"No sweetie, I like that you aren't green."

"Is it because I'm purple?"

It's at least another hour of this before she stops asking me to stay. But it's my fault of course for tricking her into thinking I was "leaving" her. I also almost won my revenge by saying, "OK, I'll promise to stay if you take a shower with your clothes on (the idea that the shower would wake her up and I could sleep). She somehow guilted me into "staying" unconditionally.

Of course she conveniently remembers nothing of any of this (I should record her for scientifically hilarious sake). The next night while I was in passionate slumber, she snuck off to snooze in the living room, thinking she might save me some lost sleep. I woke up at the usual screaming hour (my internal clock knows when it's time to shake Rachel awake) and she wasn't there. But luckily I found her and dragged her to back to our boudoir where her nightmares belong: right next to my ear. It's really no big deal. I think she will grow out of it in a few years. And if not, I can live with a few dozen blood curdling screams every single night for the rest of my life.

I wonder what our upstairs neighbors think of the shrieks coming from the basement.

Proof That Monsters Exist

So this little scoundrel (only 1 inch or so) Opheliaed himself right in to a cup of water on the kitchen counter. The little devil must have sunk to the bottom to await his burial at trash when I came home. He might have struggled to climb out, feebly but who knows. The wife of course was unable to enter the kitchen until the deed was done for fear of reanimation. We would need to electrocute it for that to work or some kind of voodoo magic, silly wife. The cup of course was to be ceremoniously destroyed and the pieces were strewn into the fire pits of Tarsus. OK I washed the cup very thoroughly but rest assured I will never drink again from a cup of this color or shape again.

What's the point of all this? To prove that monsters are real of course (didn't you read the title?). What is that you say? But it's only 1 inch long! * Indeed a valid point. You get a cookie for your astute examination. Now quit interrupting with your obvious observations. I know a bug is tiny but it is all relative. If this bug (let's call him Chuck) were really big people would certainly scream. "Monster!" they would shout. And if you were tiny it would seem to be a monster. You see it's all relative. While we're at it, Rachel did scream. She screamed a whole bunch when I offered her a drink. Not thirsty, fella?

So I decided that the definition of a monster is relative to the beholder. Rachel saw a monster: I saw something unpleasant. Ergo monstrosity is in the eye (or head) of the beholder and monsters are real depending on who is being asked.

I should probably wrap this up, because that picture is grossing me out. I wonder how many of these things crawl in and out of our cups when they are not committing suicide. I wonder how many are crawling on your face at night. Monsters exist (even if they are relatively tiny most of the time). Sweet dreams.

*Insert inappropriate joke here.

Secret Frozen Burrito Recipe

Sick of burning your tongue on microwavable Mexican foods only to freeze it on the next bite? Here is my new secret recipe for frozen burritos. No frozen center. Prep time and clean up is a snap!

Ingredients:

2 microwavable burritos (thawed for two hours)

Steps

Leave frozen burritos in a generic or brand name re-sealable storage baggie on your desk (or kitchen counter) for two hours to thaw. Remove from baggie and place on 2 paper towels. Cook in microwave for 2 minutes on high while you use the restroom. Make sure to wash your hands. No need to flip them over. Remove from microwave. Place on plate. Eat yummy goodness exactly 1 1/2 minutes after removing from microwave.

Press 1 for a Waste of Time

For a good time call 1-900-Jon-than. For a waste of time call my Best Buy Mastercard. Press 1 for English. Si senor. Press 1 for account information. Press 0 to speak with a representative.

"For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Um. . .Jonatha—"

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Jon-a-than Red-dock"

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Oh Jonathan J. Reddoch [Reddock]."

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Jonathan J. Reddoch [Reddock]."

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Jonathan J. Reddoch [Reddock]."

Curse condescending robot-man.

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. For verification purposes we must first pull up your account information. Please say the full name on your account."

"Jonathan J. Reddoch [Reddock]."

"I am sorry but that name does not match our records. Please say or type your ten digit account number."

There is no account number other than the 16 digit credit card number. But alas there is a ten digit member ID number. Type that in.

"For verification purposes what is the full name on your account."

"Jonathan J. Reddoch [Red-itch]."

"We are sorry we are now closed. Please call back between the hours of [whatever] and [whatever]."

Call ended for me.

The Curtains to the Soul

So they say eyes are the window into the soul. I guess that makes my mouth the front door. Feed my soul! I think I might know what the backdoor to the soul is. No not that! It's poetry. No just kidding it really is what you were thinking. So what does that make my eyebrows? The shutters to the soul? No dummy that's the eyelid. Eyebrows are more like curtains, drapes if you will. They sort of dangle there kind of looking pretty. They serve to accentuate the eyes. They can be inviting or unwelcoming. Yeah that is a fair summation of my eyebrows. They are very telling, in a loud way. Seriously have you seen these things? They are ridiculous.

I think I must have been born eyebrowless. Because mine are abnormally big and bearish. My current set was formed when my mother stole a clump of bushy brown hair off a bear's backside and superglued them on my tiny brown baby face. That explains a lot. More than you know. Also they kind of form a funny shape when I am interested in something. They also serve as my main form of communication. I have lead entire discourses with my plush hair-wings.

What's the point? It is a shame I always have to ask. I guess that my eyebrows are kind of funny looking and they are very communicative. For my next blog I should just film them. You would learn so much about me if I did. After all, the eyebrow is the curtain to the soul.

APe Tests

AP tests are stupid. Here's why.

They are supposed to be the equivalent of a college course? Apparently the AP testers don't have a clue how college is. I have never taken a class in college where they teacher teaches you as much as he can possibly fit into your brain hoping beyond hope that some of it will be on the test. This makes the teacher and the student responsible for a near infinite amount of knowledge to cover the very finite and very secret tested knowledge. Gosh forbid you know what you're supposed to know.

What other educational system is so similar to playing pin the tail on the donkey? I learned more in my U.S. History class than I have ever studied in any other class since or before it. Did I pass? Yes barely. I should have gotten 16 credits for the amount of knowledge I stuffed in there. And I still got only a 3 out of a 5! That's only a 60%! What a load of pucky. Puck that!

The one plus side to AP tests: they made real college courses seem like pie. And cake. Wait the teacher teaches you the material that will be on the test?! Are you sure that isn't cheating? Wait there is not just one huge 3 hour test that proves you didn't waste an entire years worth of your time? Intriguing. What a novel approach to learning.

The apes who write these tests should be stripped of their academic credentials. Better yet they should have the tests administered to them for their jobs. I would like to see them recall random dates and names from the oceans of facts in U.S. history.

Oh and don't get me started on DBQs. Document based questions? Yeah that's real objective. How about I throw a random document at you and then watch you squirm as you try to BS on something you have no context for nor background nor research. But what do you expect from a bunch of chimps in mortar boards.

Nicholson in the Hotel Room with the “Overdose”

OK I know the Dark Knight is old news and Batman from 1989, which I vaguely remember loving immensely as a kid when it came out, is really old news. Also 1989 was the year my wife was born. Does that make me creepy or her? Anyway but I really still think Jack Nicholson did a pretty bang up job in that movie. "Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light?" Good line. "This town needs an enema!" Great line. Keaton even does a pretty decent job as the Batman. But we all know that the punk kid from 10 Things I hate about You, Heath Ledger, stole the show in the Dark Knight. He got all tripped up playing the role and accidently killed himself. So of course he won the Oscar, which I guess he deserved (he did do a pretty amazing job).

But why do I feel so bad for Jack Nicholson? Like he is getting snubbed by all this? It still bothers me to this day. Like the only thing I got out of this movie after watching it was wow, that was the most perfect Joker ever. Poor Jack Nicholson. Does Jack even care that the dead gay cowboy from Broken Back Mountain stole his thunder? Probably not. He's Jack freaking Nicholson. I would like to see (if her were alive) Ledger play the crazy hotel caretaker from the Shining. Actually he might be able to pull it off. Anyway well whatever, Jack Nicholson does his thing and Ledger did his, right? So should I worry about being bottom hurt on Jack's behalf? Of course not. Will that stop me from feeling bad for the guy? Not a chance in heck.

Correction: I just did some research and found this interview from groundbreaking news organization MTV. I did further research and the M in MTV used to stand for Music. It now stands for Mutton. Jack was furious that he didn't get the Joker part. Wasn't he kind of old for that anyway?

MTV: What do you think of another actor, Heath Ledger, playing the Joker in next summer's "The Dark Knight"?

Nicholson: Let me be the way I'm not in interviews. I'm furious. I'm furious. [He laughs.] They never asked me about a sequel with the Joker. I know how to do that! Nobody ever asked me.

MTV: It was never brought up?

Nicholson: No. It's like, in any area, you can't believe the reasons things do or don't happen. Not asking me how to do the sequel is that kind of thing. Maybe it's not a mistake. Maybe it was the right thing, but to be candid, I'm furious.

MTV: I'm surprised to hear you sounding competitive about a role like that.

Nicholson: Well, the Joker comes from my childhood. That's how I got involved with it in the first place. It's a part I always thought I should play.

MTV: Will you see the new film?

Nicholson: I'm not inclined to watch it because of what I said. But if it's a good movie, I'll catch up with it somewhere. I don't think they ever really captured Tim Burton's spirit [since he stopped being involved]. They kind of drove the franchise into the ground. Tim Burton's a genius. He had the right take on it. That's why I did the movie. I did the movie based on a single conversation with him. We both come from the cartoon world originally. We had similar ideas. Tim said [the Joker] should have a humorous dark side to him. [Burton is] one of the great moviemakers. I think the world of him. He's the most unassuming man. And he doesn't feel pressure. That's what I love about him. Once he's in there, he's smiling making the movie. That's it!

Also Jack "warned" Heath about doing the Joker role. Mmmmmmurder! It was Colonel Nicholson in the hotel room with the poison!

Also after reading his whining on his own behalf, I don't feel bad for Nicholson anymore. I hope he doesn't warn me for saying that.

Chronic Blogging (This Time about a Book)

I know I already blogged like 16 times today but I just finished reading this book and I wanted to write about it! It is a short children's book and it took me all week. I am what they call in the doctoring biz, slow. Can you guess from the title what series I started?

I know I watch too many movies and don't read enough books when the entire time I read this the Magician's Nephew, I was constantly questioning whether it would make a good film. BTW I decided it would. It would need a little change but that's always the case when turning literature into screenplay. For example it could be turned into a frame tale as it is told by the professor to Lucy and the other Pevensies. Also If I made this a movie I would have Digory and Polly talking to or meeting the cabby in the very beginning. Otherwise it's weird that he comes out of nowhere late in the book to be so important of a figure. Only thing missing is a big battle scene like the ones in Prince Caspian and the Lion, the Witch, etc. But it would. Because as a flashback Jadis tells the kids about the big battle on Charm. That would be fun to recreate on the big screen, no?

I don't know why but the one thing that bothered me about this book was when one of the animals took Aslan's name in vain. I was like blasphemer! Oh wait, he is a just a magic lion right? Or he is supposed to be the real Jesus though in our world? I know it's an allegory and all for the creation story (I am not the dumbest person alive). I mean, I know he is fictional, but in that universe, he is Aslan and he is Jesus, one in the same ya? You don't need to agree. I am just typing out loud. I blog waaay too much. It's a chronic condition. Sorry the pun title doesn't really explain that this is mostly about making a movie out of the Magician's Nephew; puns are my best attempt at cleverness.

Illustration of Hey! Quiet Down!

http://jonathanreddochuniversity.blogspot.com/2010/05/tat-for-tit.html

Short Blogs Live Longer

Short people live longer than tall people. My blogs have been really long the last few days. I promise this one is considerably shorter.

Jonathan Reddoch University Is Open for Business

A friend suggested I publish my various written things on my blog. I have no room for such nonsense on here so instead I founded Jonathan Reddoch University. I am now accepting customers/students. OK it's free but whatever. You'll find stories/articles/other things/etc.

I figured anyone can start a university, so why not me?

http://jonathanreddochuniversity.blogspot.com/

If I Don’t Know You Then I Don’t Like You

I have some real crazy social issues. Some are paradoxical: I don't like meeting people but I want more friends.

Every time I get a new job I have to meet new people. It's the worst. I hate them all. Until after I know them. And it is like a swimming pool situation. I like to ease myself in. None of this cannonball stuff. Actually I like jumping right into swimming pools. It's more like a cesstub. The most I am ever really gonna get myself in is like knee deep. And I will not enjoy it for a real long time.

Anyway I don't really like people I don't know. And I hate when people try talking to me when I am trying to be all pathetic and solo. Quit interrupting my solid wall of antisocialsm (not like the Berlin Wall but like a wall of anti-social-ism). When people come up to me and start force talking to me, I am usually pretty good at wearing my "Blagh go away can't you see I am trying to be all morose and friendless" face. People though are really bad at seeing it, at least the approachers who thrust their words into my unwilling ears. Don't they see my clinched teeth and annoyed look. Don't they feel my unresponsiveness? Don't they hear my dismissive 'uh huhs as I try typing stuff on my keyboard or eating my turkey sandwich with Munster cheese and avoiding eye contact. Eye contact is the devil.

But I clandestinely (BTW I picked up the word clandestinely years ago from the Wicked soundtrack and love using it. Is it weird that I know the first time I learned a lot of words?) I know that it is good for me. I need to take my medicine when it presents itself. So I usually reluctantly but alertly crawl out of my metaphorical hole (like the groundhog) and begin interacting with ugh—new people. Usually it turns out I eventually like people when I get to know them. In fact most of my closest friendships began this exact way. Yep all of them except for Rachel. I force talked my way into her life. I know she wasn't about to start talking to me. I really like my coworkers, especially the nosy ones who forced their way in.

Which gets me to my next point. How I met Rachel. Our mutual friend Camilla had a RiffTrax party. I don't normally go to parties. Because parties are a merely social affair—socializing = no good. But this one had a movie to watch and I already knew almost everyone there. Also I had this really strong feeling I should go. Any Mormons reading this will know what that feeling is called. Anyway not to get too preachy but I couldn't ignore this feeling. So I went. RiffTrax was nice. Afterward some people stayed and talked about movies. Rachel was sitting at the table. I was already in love with her from seeing her towering in the back behind everyone. She was the reason I stayed. She was only waiting around for everyone to leave so she could be with her friend Camilla. She was playing with a water bottle while everyone talked about movies (she's seen like 6 movies in her life). I couldn't tell her I loved her and wanted to marry her on the first sentence. Some women frown on that sort of honesty. I had the gumption to ask her if she were trying to make a tornado in a bottle. She was. And she was embarrassed. She was pretty good at avoiding conversation and she had no idea I wanted to marry that face.

I guess the point is. Wait what's the point? Something about how we should give people a chance or something like that. Never assume. Never surrender? Never mind. I used to want to be a rock. And an island (can you be both?). But you know what. Islands do cry. They cry on the inside. You just can't see it because islands have no tear ducts.

Also if you are reading this and I don't know you (why are you read a stranger's blog creeper?) then I don't like you. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. It just means I'll fight you tooth and nail while you try to befriend me.

Woo Goo Is for You (Maybe)

So I work as an editor in the assessment development department for Western Governors University. It's an online school. I know what you're thinking, "scam alert!" That's what I thought when I started working for WGU (Woo Goo or WuGoo?). Schools like University of Phoenix will hand out degrees to anyone so they can get a little (a lot!) of scratch. WGU is not a corporate monster.

I had no qualms working for fake schools. Before Woo Goo, I worked for Prosper University, scamming old people out of the money they didn't have ("gotta spend money to make money"—"the only way to eliminate that massive debt is to spend a little more"). I guess anyone can call anything a university. I should rename my blog "Jonathan Reddoch University" instead of "feeling a little wheezy." Actually I did have qualms about scamming old people, which is why I was such a bad salesman there (oh and I am lazy). Now Prosper scams like no other. They really take their students to school if you know what I mean (they also waterboard like no other). But the more I work at WGU the more I realize this is not Prosper ScamU. It's totally legit. In fact the more I work here, the more I realize we are actually developing a better way to educate students than even BYU where I currently attend. I gotta admit most a the english education I payed four was pretty unpractical, but thats what i get for being a English mjor.

WGU is trying to improve the way students are assessed (measuring competency) without ridiculous outdated methods. Curves for example are the result of a failure in teaching, specifically teaching uniformly. One of my jobs here is to improve the quality of test questions by flagging easy ones, stupid ones, confusing ones, tricky ones, opinion based ones, best answer ones, etc. You know the kind of questions professors write who have no idea how to write a test that measures competency (like every teacher I've ever had). Being a good test taker should not earn you a degree in something you are not competent in.

Identifying the "correct" answer shouldn't require you to live in the teacher's head. Correct answers should NOT be justified by "well the book does say that but remember in class I disagreed with the book."

What brought this on was this. So I was reading these online reviews of WGU and they are mostly really positive. Most of the students thought WGU was pretty good, even (or especially) compared to brick and mortar schools. The negative ones, as many of the positive reviews point out, stems from a failure on the student's part. The negative responses came from whiny Gomezes. One student was halfway through the teaching program before they discovered that Oregon apparently doesn't recognize the teaching degree from WGU. That sounds like an issue with Oregon to me. I know BYU teaching degrees aren't accepted everywhere either (I looked that shiz up when I was originally a teaching English major). Some other whiny baby said that Pennsylvania required the student to take three additional classes, and somehow that is WGU's fault. So? Take three more classes you crybaby.

One guy had trouble with financial aid. Ha! Really? What a surprise. I am sure no one has ever had trouble with that anywhere else. Holy heck financial aid is a quagmire of red tape and ridiculousness at BYU. Probably because it involves the government so much in the process. Maybe they should be giving Obama a bad review.

Here is my review: Woo Goo is for you! (Maybe) actually it might be too hard for you.

Anyway. Sorry this post isn't very funny. Maybe I should make a joke. So a pumpkin walks into a bar and says, "Can I get a whiskey sour." The bartender says "We only have cheerful whiskey." Actually ignore that joke. It needs work, but in this economy who doesn't? Haha get it. The whole set up was to make a recession joke about a nonsensical pumpkin joke. . .bah I should just stop while I'm a behind. Get it. I'm a behind? Like a bottom? K blog finished.

Minor Issues

I have a secret. Are you ready to hear it? OK, here goes. Brace yourself for deep impact. I am half brown. Take a moment if you need to. I know it probably comes as a pretty big shock. There's more. My brownness doesn't come from a rich amazing tan that you probably assumed I have from hours basking in the golden warmth of del sol; it comes from my Mexican mother. . .dun dun dun! Yes my mom is a. . .a Mexican person.

Phew! I got a load off my brown chest. Now let's keep this our little secret. No one else needs to know. For now let's just act like I am entirely as white as white rice is white. My Mexy half is fine quietly letting the white half run things (as if he had a choice anyway).

So I do embrace my white anglo awesomeness. Is there anything wrong with that? It's totally PC to have Latino pride so why not white anglo European pride? I love my Scottishms. If I could I would deport the brown half right out of my body. If there was a way, I would put up a cement border down half my body to keep things segregated.

OK not really. I like Mexicans even if I don't necessarily super relate to that culture. They do good work. I even put that I am a Latino or whatever they're called on standardized tests so they (ugh we) look smarter overall. Honkeys don't need my high scores; they're doing well enough with their finely trimmed yards and swimming pools and Dockers and make out parties.

Also there has been a lot of talk for the past iunno forever about illegal immigrants or what have you. There is only one argument I hear: it's illegal. That is the best you got? So what. That's not a reason at all to care. Things are supposed to be illegal because they are bad, not the other way around. If that is the only reason, I am pretty sure we have a simple solution. Repel the laws!

Not to sound too offensive but we kind of want them don't we? They clean for cheap. They cook our burritos for a reasonable rate. They seem friendly enough. They don't blow up things so why are we afraid of them? Unless there is dare I say it, racism involved? That is impossible. My white side disavows any such thing. Although my brown side quietly accepts the stereotyping of my racist white side. Since my skin is brown, I can say whatever I want about whites and browns so stop judging me, racist (unless you are not 100% white then you can't be racist).

Still, these all seem like minor issues to me. That is all I have to say for now.

Thursday Is Lock Out Day

Two weeks ago. . .

Rachel borrows my key to move her stuff into my old apartment, where it will wait to be transferred to our new place after our honeymoon. She leaves the key on the table. After work I pick up my brother from my place and we go to my male stripping Gatorade chugging, throwing up bonding before marriage event. Afterward my brother and I go back to my place. Key is on the table! We are on the other side of a locked door. Long story short it sucked and it was super annoying to track down a key from my roommate. It was a long sucky night.

One week ago. . .

Flash forward to one week ago, also a Thursday. First day back from our honeymoon! Finally we could move in to our new place! The door was locked and we didn't have a key. Where oh where could it be? Not under rocks. Not under mats. Not here nor there, nor any freaking where. . . I remember the guy who we are subletting from saying something about leaving a key somewhere. But where? And whence? Then I thought maybe the chiropractor's office. They were closed. But there was a guy working and he called the management lady and we had a terribly communicated conversation and she decided to rush down to our aid. It turned out the previous tenant had left it with our upstairs neighbor who saw us wandering around like dummies. Sorry management lady, don't need you. Go home.

Last night. . .

Last night. Oh what a night. I dropped Rachel off at work, did some things and some stuff. Mind you every day I see Rachel's keys lying here or there and say "why don't you keep these with you?" When it was time to pick her up I was a few minutes behind because I had an important blog post to post. She texted me "Where are you?" I texted, "On my way." Then I clarified by sending, "On my way to my pants." Anyway I hurried to get ready and took two steps out the door before I checked my pocket for my usual accessories. Wallet? Check. Phone? Check. Keys? F. Rachel's keys of course were on the table. That's where they go. Long story short we called a friend Arnie who saved our lives/souls from destruction.

Inappropriate Guestbook Entries

"Wonderful stay. . .sorry we accidentally stole this journal. We hope it gets back to you in good order." Accidentally stole the journal. Don't worry they get better and better (AKA more scandalized) as you get down the page. Please define "good order." It should have been thrown back into the fires of Mordor.



This blog post is rated NC-71. That means Kristina and John Bohman are too young for this content. That means don't tell your mom you read these guestbook entries. And don't let little "innocent" Julia read them.

During the last night of our honeymoon, Rachel and I stayed in a nice little bed and breakfast in Provo called the Hines Mansion. The Seaside Room or whatever was quite lovely. Some of the guestbook entries for our room were not so lovely. The last inappropriate entry is ours.

"Me matey and I came landside to celebrate his 1/2 century birthday! We'll see how much steam the ol' capt'n has to 'em!"

"Morning Report: Despite the treacherous waters, the capt'n sailed his vessel successfully into port. We shall take this voyage again!"

Half century relations described in naughty nautical innuendo is gross.

Murrrrrder. . . .

Perfect! Perfectly gross. Who ends their guestbook entry "Lots of FUN & Relations"? Weirdos, that's who.

"The room was spectacular. Everyone was really nice. The sex/food was great! Can't wait to come back [smiley face]." -The Thompsons

In case you missed that, it says "The sex/food was great!" Mmm sex/food. . .

Above: the jetted tube. "And it looked so clean!"

Below: When the fish tank used to be it were here.

What more can you say than this, "Oh be wise, morons."

Best end to a honeymoon ever: Breakfast was good. Morning breath. The end. -The Reddoxen

Easy to Convince: Hard to Unconvince

I wanted to get Rachel a bike for her birthday. I outlined the reasons. Bikes are fun. They make for good transportation. Al Gore approves of them. Rachel doesn't have a car while I am at work. Rachel hates driving. We can ride together for a little recreational exercise. I did everything short of sing Bicycle Race by Queen. She became convinced it was quite necessary.

As I persuaded her with my fancy college learning she had postulated with great intelligence that she didn't need one. We needed other things more. We are poor. I already got her too much stuff already for her birthday. We could afford a better one when we were both out of school and working. We didn't want to lug a bunch of cycles across country when we moved wherever it Is we might move to (wherever it is they better carry Chocodiles). She could only ride it to school for the first month or so before it got cold. She hadn't ridden one in 8 years, which she claims is half her life ago (I married an underage girl it turns out who should only just barely be allowed to start going on group dates this week let alone going steady with her husband). She tried riding in the store and somehow forgot how to turn (apparently riding a bike is not at all like the old axiom promises).

Anywhoo after we were both swayed by the arguments of each other, I was vehemently against wasting our money on some death contraption. She felt it was a necessity for our eternal enjoyment. I implored her to consider the needs of our new home. We had a vacuum to purchase. Water filters. Jars of upscale brand alfredo sauce. [Boh]Man cannot live by bicycles alone! She counter argued the benefits of the purchase. It would be fun! She could go to the grocery store. She could carry a little puppy in a basket (actually that was a recycled argument from when I was pro-bike). The debate continued in like manner as we returned to the original scene of the initial eruption of the loving debate debacle. It was all a moot point because the bike we wanted to get her (or didn't want, whatever the case may be) was all sold out. Good thing too or our marriage could be in jeopardy!

On a side note, you can convince me and I can be convinced and I can be unconvinced but you can't unconvince me? That seems like a huge oversight to me. Webster, you better check yourself.

New Emo

I don't like you

I want to die

I want to live

Forever?

No, not forever

Forever?

OK forever

Twig Lit

I hate you stinky human

You are all emo. That's hot

I love you delicious human

Be mine

No you be mine

Forever?

Forever

Books You Won’t Find at Borders

So I was bored. I came up with some "interesting" sounding titles for stories I could write. Then I made up taglines and quotes and whatnots. Then I made up "funny" genres for them. Anyway, here they are for your reading enjoyment. Did I mention I was bored when I came up with these? See if you can identify the books/pop culture I am citing/mocking.

 

Title: Corn on the Bob

Back cover: Crispy and delicious! Just wait until you sink your teeth into these succulent favorites. Whether you're having Brad for Breakfast, Larry for Lunch, or Dan for Dinner you're sure to love fresh Butterfingers and Toes, Soylent Violet, and Shin Shish KaBob or Mark or whomever!

Genre: Cannibal Cookbook

 

Title: Waste of Tim

Opening line: He was the best of Tims. He was the worst if Tims.

Genre: Classical non-literature

 

Title: Firestarter Local 501

Quote from book: "Gentlemen, we got a fire to get started. Get it, everything is backwards here! Is your mind blown yet?"

Genre: Mad, Mad, World Literature

 

Title: Where the Wild Thing's Ain't

Synopsis: Here they is! Oh, wait never mind. . .

Genre: Children's illiterature

 

Title: Weekend Getaway You Creeper!

Tagline: It started out as such a nice "retreat."

Genre: Horror-ible Vacation Guidebooks

 

Title: Life, the Universe, and How to Go About Ruining It for Just about Everyone

Chapter One: Don't Drink the Water.

Genre: Self Hinder Books

 

Title: For Us, the Dying

Last line: "If they don't get us, the tedium will."

Genre: Love Advice and Pickup Lines for Zombie Survivors

 

Title: Them! And It! And Us?

Surprise twist ending: We are the villains in this nerve shattering nightmare!

Genre: Clichés from the 50s

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01001001 01100110 00100000 01101111 01101110 01101100 01111001 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110111 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01101111 01100010 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100110 01110010 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100100 00100000 00001101 00001010 01001001 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01100111 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100101 01110000 00101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100101 01110000 00101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100101 01110000 00001101 00001010

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Chocodiles: Now That's the Stuff!

So normally I think advertising for companies sans payment is just dumb. Advertising with payment still isn't very enticing. For example I am not likely to sport a tee-shirt with the word Heinz on it , even if it were free (even though I wear that particular brand of ketchup all the time). So I think it is just as foolish to wear a shirt with Abercrombie & Fitch on it. What could be more foolish? Paying to wear an advertisement, that's what.

Anyway this is not about tee-shirts or products with walking billboards. It is about Chocodiles. AKA sweet delicious yummy goodness. Unless you are Rachel, my brothers, Camilla, or like 3 other people in the world who have tried these, you are probably thinking, what the frig is a chocowhatty and why do I care? I care. I care a lot. They are my favorite and everyone needs to know about 'em. Try one. Try one and you'll see. With a fox in a box without socks. Tell your mama. Tell your pa something something Arkansas, I mean Chocodiles! The bird is not the word. Chocodiles is the word. Haven't you heard?

Chocodiles (for some reason 1 single individual wrapped pastry is still called Chocodiles. Go figure) are soft sponge cake filled with cream filling and covered in chocolate. They are the best and somehow I don't see "Hey where's the cream filling?" commercials. They are so the best. So much the best. Twinkies are so plain and boring. I see a dumb 'ol Twinkie and ask "Hey, where's the chocolate? Chocodiles, now that's the stuff."

Your Vote Can Actually Count for Something!

Unlike those rigged elections of yesteryear (like literately last year) in Iran and I assume in the U.S. since I have never even met a single person who voted for this Hussein guy in Utah and I imagine Utah is a pretty decent measure of the country's political flavor. Where did he even come from?! (The answer is Kenya BTW). JK, I know Hannah and Camilla voted for him. Anyway how about a real chance to have your real vote really count for something really important? Yes? Better be yes. Rachel and I need (though she doesn't really know it yet) a celebrity couple name.

If you don't know that is when a couple's name is combined all cutesy into one like Bennifer (Ben Affleck and J-Lo) or Brangilina (Brad and Angelina) or Nitsy (Nick + Betsy = too cute). In the morphology field of linguistics they call this blending. Look at how much you are learning! Anywhoo here are the runners up! Please vote for as many as you want. Standard text messaging rates may apply.

Jachel

Ronathan

Jonathel

Jonel (too—sorry I don't know how else to say it so I am just gonna say it—"black"?)

Ronel (see Jonel)

Jachies

Rathan

Ronathan Roseph (does this sound too much like Scooby-Doo trying to say my name?)

RJ

RJJR

Last names (Reddoch + Bohman)

Bohdoch

Redohman (Oh man! Reminds me too much of that movie with that creepy kid)

Bohman&wife (traditional but sexist plus confusing 'cause it makes me sound like I am the wife or Rachel is one of them inhabitants of that Greek isle of which I won't name here. Unfortunately I am sure Camilla knows which island, right Josh?)