I'm So Cool

I did the math and I have 8 Christmas parties to go to this year. Some of them are family get togethers, so I'm not sure if those count, but plenty of them aren't. I've got a work party, a school party, a ward party, a small gathering of our four closest friends, possibly another ward party (I gotta see Brandon as Santa), an early family gathering, the big Christmas Eve party that you have to go to or you're just not cool anymore, and then the Christmas Day feast.

It's so funny to me how rapidly things can change in life. Just a few short years ago, I was sitting in a barracks room in Guam, with only a few other lonely souls to celebrate Christmas with. There were no parties, no family, no real cheer. Unless you want to use "cheer" as a euphemism for booze, in which case there was plenty of cheer. Other than the pathetic faux snow-covered wreath hung on the front door and the endless drone of holiday movies like A Christmas Story and the Grinch, there really wasn't much to indicate that it was Christmas.

Fast forward a few years to me snapping the restraints on a child's car seat as my beautiful six months pregnant wife brings out the last of the food for this particular get together. Surrounded by houses coated in Christmas lights, with Christmas music pouring out of the radio, and me in a cheesy sweater for good measure.

I know the being thankful thing is so last month, but I can't be happier to have such a wide array of good family, true friends, and all the opportunity for happiness anybody could ever wish for. I just hope I can always remember to take advantage of that opportunity.

What A Great Idea #11

My wife is afraid of electricity. There was apparently an incident involving a nightlight during her formative years. And another incident with a light bulb. And maybe another incident on top of that. I'm not really sure. Suffice to say she isn't a fan, and for that reason my daughter has yet to get a nightlight in her room.

In an effort to assuage her fears, I introduce the Safety Light (patent pending). The Safety Light is a night light that protects the user from possible electrocution/death by covering the prongs with a safety shield whenever the light is not fully inserted into the wall. In essence there is a spring-loaded plastic wall that sticks out from the light that is as long as the prongs and surrounds them.

This is useful because the risk of shock exists when the device is partially removed from the wall, exposing metal without being completely unplugged. With this invention, no matter how far out the night light is pulled there is no way to get access to the prongs, because the spring loaded shield will maintain contact with the socket until the light is fully removed.

Now you may be asking "But if it fully blocks access to the prongs, how am I going to be able to see to line it up when I want to plug it in?" Simple, you addle-pated twit, because the plastic shield is in the shape of the outlet. So all you have to do is line up the edges of the shield with the edges of the outlet and push it in. Or I guess you could make the shield clear, but that seems like more work. I'm thinking just a plain white piece of plastic.

This feels like one of those "duh" ideas, so if it's already being implemented somewhere could you send me a link? I need one for my house. If nobody's thought of it before, let's get crackin' people! Heck, there's no reason something like this couldn't be made to fit over every plug in your house and open up a whole new "baby safe" market!

Tomfoolery

Dog: What is this?
Me: It's a pizza roll. Try it, you'll like it.
Dog: It tastes like bland bread.
Me: You have to bite into it. The good stuff is on the inside.
Dog: (spitting it out)It tastes like bland bread.
Me: I watch you lick yourself for hours on end, and you have a problem with the taste of the outside of a pizza roll?
Dog: I'm not doin' that for taste.
Me: Fine, whatever, (cracking it open) here try it now.
Dog: (sigh).....FINE.........HOLY CRAP that's the best thing you've ever fed me! Gimme more!
Me: Oh, sorry, I only had one left that I didn't want. If I make some more I'll try to remember to save some for you.
Dog: "If" you make some more? You'll "try" to remember to make me some?
Me: How are you doing air quotes-
Dog: What am I doing out here, barking at every predator and woodland creature that dares to enter my domain, if not for pizza rolls.
Me: Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. There have been some complaints from the neighbors. Could you keep it down out here?
Dog: .......
Me: Well, g'night.
Dog: Whatever dude. You suck.
Me: (aside)

Little did he know his medicine was in that pizza roll. Muaahhahahah.
Dog: What was that?
Me: Oh nothing. Sleep well.
Dog: Dude, you are so weird.

What a Girl Wants...

Stephanie from Mormon Child Bride recently posted this commentary about women's perception in the world and the roles they accept in society. It got me thinking, as a father of a frighteningly precocious 2 year old, how do I feel about this? Do I want my daughter to be a smart, confident woman who is undervalued because she focused on learning instead of achieving social acceptance? Or would I rather she find her place in today's society, and accept that the easiest way to simple happiness is found in a make up bag?

I know what I'll tell her. I will tell her to pursue her dreams, whatever they may be, and I'll make every effort to make each and everyone of those dreams possible. If she wants to follow in the footsteps of Marie Curie or Mariah Carey, I will support her because I genuinely want her to be happy. But I worry that I'll feel like a failure if she sits at home alone on her prom night.

It would be wonderful if she didn't have to make that choice, if she could be the prom queen and head of the science club, but unfortunately here in the real world it doesn't always work that way. And that is entirely the fault of men like me. Men who spent their adolescence idolizing beautiful bodies and ignoring beautiful minds. And in this man's world, women have to work way too hard to have both a successful career and a happy home life.

I think I'm just going to have to make an extra effort to ensure my fears for her and the world's perception of her don't poison her upbringing. I will try my best to give her all the room she needs to grow. I just hope in the end I'm complete wrong about the way the world is, and it shows her all the beauty and joy it has, with only enough of the bad as is absolutely necessary to help her appreciate the good.

No Excuse

Pretending last week didn't happen, let's move on to something more interesting. Okay, in my defense, I did get her an i-phone, and let her sleep in. So she still had a good birthday. I need to start saving my posts and having them show up here automatically. Anybody know how to do that?

I know what you're thinking. How is letting her sleep in a good present? Well, our kid is 20 months old and still won't sleep through the night. Also, it was no simple feat. First, I waited until she was asleep and turned off the baby monitor on her side of the bed. Then I got the spare monitor and laid it on the pillow next to me, with the sound off. So the bright red lights flashed in my face every time the baby made a peep, but she didn't hear a thing. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep that night.

When the baby started getting up about 6:30 (as usual, I love being a parent) I went up and got her out of bed. Once she was playing contentedly in her playroom, I went back down and turned the monitor back on. This was important because my wife, seeing what time it was, would immediately wonder why she wasn't hearing the baby yet and check to see if the monitor was on. Upon finding it off, she would leap out of bed in a panic, certain her child had been screaming all night (not an uncommon occurrence, I love being a parent) and the rest of her birthday would have been ruined. Of course I complete all these tasks with the utmost stealth and cunning, only to have her wake up at about 7:30 and refuse to go back to sleep. At least I tried.

A Tribute: Her Cooking

Now, before anyone gets all upset about me painting her into an apron and pearls, I just want to make it clear that I don't think my wife has ever worn pearls. I should buy her some pearls.

Anywho, my wife is not a great cook. She's a fantastic cook. And the best part is she didn't think she was a very good cook when we got married. Something about a lack of experience. She was mainly a mac and cheese maker. And she could and can make some mean mac and cheese. But the funny part was she made something else (I think it was pasta in alfredo sauce with meat balls), and it was AWESOME (in a high pitch voice).

So I had pasta with meatballs for about a month. Maybe because I praised it so much, but it was really good ya'll! So I had to prompt her into trying something new. And everything she made was great. It was like a Midas touch type situation. Homemade soft pretzels, three different kinds of beef stew (not from a can), Mexican dishes, Italian dishes, I can't even remember them they were so long ago.

I would have to say her masterpiece is her meatloaf. Yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but really she puts no cheese in it whatsoever. Seriously, nobody has tasted her meatloaf and not instantly fallen in love with her. Not that I blame them, but I got to her first. So tough.

A Tribute: Her Needle

Notice I didn't say needling. Today I would like to discuss all things fabric related. Even that isn't a broad enough introduction to encompass all the things she's capable of with a needle. What's even more amazing is how frequently she taught herself to do these things, or at best had a handful of pointers and then took off with it.

When we first met, she was heavy into needlepoint. For the life of me I can't figure out how she had the dedication and attention to detail necessary to to go thread by thread, counting the number of minuscule holes over from the edge to start a particular color, only to have to repeat the process for the next color. It bottles the mind.

Little did I know she was quickly learning the art of quilting. I discovered her new found talent when she presented me with my very own handmade navy quilt, complete with the navy emblem. After marriage, I quickly learned that quilting isn't nearly as easy as it looks. I was raised around seamstresses and simply assumed the hodge-podge creations I saw them produce were a simple matter of taking a piece of fabric, sowing on another one, then sowing on another one, until you had a big enough square, then sow up the edges. Easy enough, right? Au contraire.

She frequently belittles her own math skills while praising mine, but I have difficulty tracking the multitude of measurements she had to coordinate to get everything to fit just so. And trust me, if it doesn't fit, she spots it immediately. Then it's ripping everything back to square one. I wouldn't have the patience for it. But not only has she gone from novice to someone the church calls on to teach classes in the span of a couple of years, the things she creates are astounding. I just wish she'd make a few for around the house and quit giving them all away. Yeah, the women's shelter needs them more, but they're just so darn nice to look at.

She's dabbled in knitting, and made this beautiful blanket that's wrapped around our beautiful daughter (that she also made, more on that later). She also threw together a precious collection of cupcake hats and candy corn hats for the little one, but there isn't much call for the warmth of knitted clothing in our southern climate. Of course she taught herself how to make all these things. "Yeah! Self-taught! No lessons, thank you very much, Pop." - Steve Buscemi

Something more apropos to our climate are the clothes she makes for the baby now. It would be one thing if she just took a pattern, followed it to the letter, and out came some clothes. Still impressive, cuz I can't do it, but not really earth-shattering. So of course she doesn't just do that. Numerous times she's taken a pattern and said, "You know what, this would look better with sleeves." Or, "That doesn't really fit our daughter's frame, so I'm going to change up the design to make it a better fit."

It's the difference between skill and talent. To me, a skill is something you learn through instruction and practice, until you can do it independent of direction. A talent is the ability to take that skill and through a process inherent to you improve on that skill. So far I have yet to see her attempt anything involving needle, thread, yarn or fabric that didn't turn out beautifully. Not to say she hasn't had the occasional project that didn't work out just the way she wanted, but by and large she's been a success at every type of needlework she's tried. It just makes me wonder what other potential she has in her.

A Tribute: Her Photography

My wife's birthday is this week, and I don't really talk about her much on here, so I thought I would dedicate a week's worth of blog posts to her. What makes her her, what makes her my wife, that sort of thing. Now while we have an understanding that we don't talk about each other on our blogs without content approval, I think she'll forgive me this one time. Unless she doesn't.

Today I'd like to talk about my wife's favorite diversion. My wife is a photographer. I know, I know, a Mormon SAHM who's also into photography? What're the odds? But she's different (echoes every husband defending his wife's passion). Hmm, how to distinguish my wife from the pack...She's won accolades? She's been featured on blogs, in art shows- the list goes on and on.

That's what makes her different from the hobby photographers. But what makes her better? The simple answer is heart. Not necessarily her own, but what she captures. Sure, she can take the standard picture, with everybody turned toward the camera, big fake smiles on their faces. But her true talent comes out in her photos of people being people. There's a truth to her photography, a window into something deeper than what is seen with the eyes.

Is that sufficiently cheesy and cliché? Let me break it down. The truth I mentioned is not the physical properties of the subject, but those things you can interpret from their appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions, etc. You may see a child playing, but if they have a mischievous grin, you get more out of that photo than just a child playing. An oversimplification, but it helps show what I mean.

This is what she creates with her camera. I am in awe of her. I can set up shots of pretty scenery, or ironic angles that you might not think of, but her talent runs deeper. It's one of the many things about her that amaze me.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Am I the only one who got confused when the previews for the movies "Avatar" and "The Last Airbender" started coming out last year? It took me a good 3 months to figure out that they were actually separate movies. It didn't help anything that they are both colorful, imaginitive fantasy lands full of creatures that would make the Labyrinth jealous.

So I finally got around to seeing "Avatar". I know, only 6 months after everyone else this time, I'm getting better! What was the fuss about this movie? I mean sure, it was pretty. But so is a painting in a museum, and I ain't payin' no 9 bucks to see that either. Luckily I only had to pay 1 buck to redbox.

Maybe it's elitist of me, but I spent a long time thinking that redbox was "Netflix: The Trailer Trash Edition". Okay, that's not really a maybe. It's very elitist of me. Their case wasn't helped by the sort of people I saw congregating around their numerous orifices as I made a late night McDonald's run. I certainly get now why there seemed to be more activity just as I was getting out of school arond 8:50 every night.

But I'm a convert. Redbox is definitely for me. Now does that elevate them, or denigrate me? Either way, I'm here to talk about Avatar. As previously asked, what was the big deal? I'm no movie expert, but I predicted 90% of this movie about 20 minutes in. Pretty much everything about Sigorney Weaver's character was bad. And that stinks, cuz I like her. But her scientist routine was cliché, except when it needed to be more visible (like when she found out the marine guy was going behind her back) and who didn't see one of those two dying? Oh, oops, I forgot to say spoiler alert. Somebody dies. I mean, every aspect of that movie was telegraphed. There's only been five guys ever to ride this one kind of flying dinosaur, so guess what the main character is going to do.

And what was with the heavy-handed native american influence? I mean, smacking him as he walked into camp? Been done people. Check out The Last Mohicans, or Dances With Wolves, or any of a dozen other Indian movies. I mean, they whooped and hollered like them, they communed with nature kinda like them, they used bows, arrows, horses (i know we gave them horses, no history lessons please), and used stealth just the same. Is it really so hard to invent a society that you have to just photocopy the nearest indigenous population being pushed out by marauding white people (how many people of color did you count? I counted 3. Not counting the aliens)? Not to say this is a racist film, but that didn't help anything either.

I probably should have researched this topic, because I have no doubt that a million other blogs have said all of the things I just said, but this was my take on it, without any outside influence. I'm glad I saw it, but once was enough. Oh, and it reminded me of a blue version of that movie Fern Gully with Robin Williams. It even had the big bad construction machine that the natives tried to wreck, and a huge tree that they all lived in. Awfully coincidental, wouldn't you say? Oh, you already did say? Well, whatever.

So I'm Thinking About Growing a Beard

But I'm having trouble figuring out where to draw the line. You know, on my face. I'm referring to the parts I should shave and the parts I should leave disheveled. I guess I could go hobo and not shave anything, until my chest hair connects with my facial hair, which connects under my ear to the hair on the back of my head, which then connects with my back hair (I'm going to get that lasered, I swear). Then I could go around making Chewbacca noises and none of my friends would find it all that strange. Mostly because I wouldn't have any friends left if I went around lookin' like a great big furball.

But seriously, I can't work this out. Should I cut it off right at the jawline? Should I let it creep down my neck a little? I guess it will depend on what kind of coverage I end up with. That's kind of my motivation for this little experiment. I haven't ever really just let it grow, so I have no clear picture of what my facial hair looks like. I mean, I have a picture from the fuzz patch at 18 that we all tried until our parents made us shave that looked more like the grass on a hillbilly's yard than facial hair, but that's it.

I've done the goat a couple of times. It's not easy for me to leave that sentence there, but I won't let those of you with dirty minds dictate how I run this blog. I'm a fan of the goatee, but it's almost more maintenance than just shaving, what with getting the edges right and even, and then trimming the hair you leave so you don't look like Hairy McNo-lips. Right now I have it just under my jawline, kind of in between the edge and my neck. Okay, to be honest I have it just under the jawline on one side and at the jawline on the other. I'm telling ya, it's hard to get even. I have a feeling that this experiment won't last long, since I don't see signs of a thick crop. Maybe I should just park a couple dozen cars on my face and call it good.

I'm a Loser, Baby...

Well, it's official. I suck at everything. I had these lofty goals of completing my community college career this semester by taking 5 classes (2 in a classroom, 3 online) and graduating in May. I was going to walk and everything. Well, today I had to drop my online classes. I have fallen further and further behind with every week of assignments. There was just no way for me to get caught up, let alone keep up once I catch up. I think what stings the most is the fact that I managed (I just typed manga, heh heh) to complete 14 hours last spring. AND I GOT STRAIGHT A's! What the heck is wrong with me this semester that I can't handle the same load spread out over 5 classes instead of 4? And one of them was nothing but: Work out 3 times a week, record it, and take this super easy online quiz with no time limit that you can take from home with the book and the internet if you don't feel like looking it up. And I couldn't even handle that.

My fervent hope is that there are varying levels of difficulty when it comes to courses, that economics doesn't compare to creative writing. I took economics last year, creative writing this year. I totally thought that I would ace creative writing. I mean, I'm a writer for a living. Plus, this awesome blog. Huh? Huh? Eh? Eh. Anywho, I guess summer school is in my future. If I can't pass these classes during summer school, I'm just going to go find a cave to live in and yell at the kids that come looking for a makeout spot to stay off the grass, even though there's no grass, and carry around randomly sized mason jars of varying color and viscosity just because I'll seem crazy and scary and they'll leave me alone. I swear I haven't been planning this or anything.

What To Do...

So I have a couple of options open to me. Thanks to the G.I. Bill (and all you lovely tax payers) I can go to any university I want. It's all paid for. A woo hoo. I'm nearly done with all the classes I can take at the handy dandy community college just up the street, so I'm going to have to be moving on to the big bad university next semester. Unfortunately, the school I want to attend doesn't do night classes, what with the cash cow masters program taking up all those slots.

I had resigned myself to attending a more accommodating but less prestigious institution, when I spoke to a friend of mine who shared that his boss was a kind man willing to adjust his work week to make certain days available for school, thus making the dream of big university study a reality. Well it occurred to me that my boss is a kind man, and would no doubt be equally willing to make such an opportunity available to me as well.

The downside: My boss isn't my boss anymore. He was recently offered a position in another department, leaving his job unfilled. As the next level of management is on another continent, there really isn't anywhere I can go to present my case for an alternate work schedule. So, hurray for not having a boss, but now how do I make this happen?

I don't want to bother my old boss, as he can't really do anything anyway, and I'm concerned that when they do finally fill his position, the first thing I say to my new boss shouldn't be, "Hey, nice to meet you, can I have Tuesdays and Thursdays off for the next year?" I guess it's not the end of the world to attend the other college. Plenty of people have gone there and gotten more than adequate degrees. I just don't want to regret not taking full advantage of the opportunities available to me.

Man, this post is kind of a downer. Anybody know any good bathroom jokes?

Curse You, Aqua Scum!!!

So if you hadn't already guessed it, I'm LDS, aka Mormon. Yeah yeah, I know, big surprise. I didn't say it before now because I didn't want this to be yet another Mormon blog, or worse yet another Mormon subversive blog. Maybe subversive is too strong a word, but you know those blogs where the writer's intent is to show just how off the beaten path they are, how non-conformist they are, or whatever.

Well I'm coming out to address something that has been bothering me. I've noticed that despite a moratorium on all things vulgar from anyone over the age of 17, there seems to be a pervasive need to hold on to the more truculent version of the word "urine".

Now I wasn't raised in the church, but the house I was raised in was extremely religious, and that word was just as acceptable as any other reference to excrement or where such excrement came from (how is it I always seem to manage to bring it back around to poop? I swear I'm not doing it on purpose). At the time (and even now) it didn’t particularly bother me, it just stands out as a holdover from the days when such putrescence would spill from my mouth like the cargo from one of Exxon's many dubiously piloted tankers.

Now there were worse words. The taking of the Lord's name in vain, coupled with beaver-related building, would get you smacked across the room. Also any attempt to discuss copulation in anything short of scientific terms would be the quickest route to a sore backside.

The beaver building by itself, donkey-related chats, dog talk (mainly female), or words to describe body parts that weren't often used to describe body parts would get you a stern talking to or maybe a smack just out of a need for consistency, but I feel like they weren't necessarily on the watchlist quite the way the others were. Honestly all the rest were in a happy little cesspool of depravity, hovering just above your sucks and crap, etc.

Of course I’ve made the argument and will continue to do so that any word said in anger is just as bad as another. It’s the intent that the word expresses that is foul, not the word itself. Just as I can dam a bridge, Joseph could lead the ass carrying Mary, and I don’t want to go to hell when I die, those words when said as an expletive would be strictly forbidden from or around my children. By the same token if they said “FUDGE ME” or “GO TO HECK” or “THAS SOME BULL SHIZZ” I will be just as quick to punish them as if they’d said the word they were attempting to subvert. Many of my friends and family do this constantly and then claim they don’t curse, but I don’t really see the difference.

What A Great Idea! #9

Okay, so no counter space is a problem. We've all dealt with it. You're in a tiny, cramped apartment with a microscopic kitchenette that you can barely fit 2 people in sideways. So how can you make more room? Well, I had an idea. What if, instead of filling your counter with jars of baking needs (flour, sugar, etc.), you had a dispenser attached to the wall that, with a press of a button or a turn of a knob, could measure out an exact amount of that particular ingredient?

Now there are a number of ways to accomplish this. It could be a mechanical measurement, like some sort of wheel located in the throat of the dispenser that was the size of say a teaspoon or quarter cup, and you just turn the wheel to get to the amount you need. Another option is an electronic system. You would only need a small keypad where you could enter the desired amount and the system could open the dispenser for a specific amount of time to match that amount.

This idea solves 2 big problems. First, the space saving I talked about earlier. Now you may not put a bunch of ingredient jars out on your counter, but you have them somewhere, and wherever they are they are taking up room. And if they're not on the counter, then you have to dig around looking for them every time you want to use them. This puts them conveniently at hand but out of the way. Second, it's an end to measuring cups. At least for dry goods. No more worrying if you got the measurement right, and that many less dishes to wash. All the way around a good thing.

Another benefit, maybe not that big of a deal, is if the dispensers are clear, you always know how much of whatever it is you have left. With just a glance you know to add flour to the grocery list, instead of getting ready to bake those cupcakes for your son's Halloween party that he told you about the day before, only to find you have to make a late night run to the store because when you opened up your Tupperware container you saw it was empty.

And the marketing possibilities are endless. Various sizes, from the newlywed size for those just learning to cook, to the SAHM of 5 who needs the industrial size, to the professional chef who REALLY needs the industrial size. Not to mention a whole line of mini-sizes for frequently used spices with smaller measurements, since odds are against you needing a quarter cup of cumin for anything.

Also, they should have some sort of easy fill funnel that comes with them, since they'll be up against the wall and that will make refills difficult. Maybe even a plastic membrane that covers the top, with a small stretchy hole that you can fit the funnel or can of spice into but will maintain a seal. Because trying to pour spices or really any dry good like that will create quite a cloud.

Tax Return

Never before has having money actually sucked. I don't know what to do with my tax return. Obviously I'm going to pay down some of my massive debt. And of course the car repairs that I have desperately needed will get done. The problem is, what do I do with the rest of it?

I can't bring myself to put it all toward the Gold Card, because then what am I working for? There has to be tangible benefits to so many long hours at the office (yes, yes, other than wife, kid, house, car blah blah blah). To me, this isn't one of those situations where you do the "sensible" thing. Yawn. I have a budget, with everything accounted for and my credit card debt all but gone sometime in 2013. I want to focus on now.

I thought about getting a concealed hand gun license, cuz what's the point of owning a gun if you can't secretly carry it around and feel superior to everybody? Of course if I did that, then my wife would probably want one, and if I did that then I'd have to get her a gun too. Not to mention the holsters and loose-fitting shirts required for proper concealment.

Then I thought about using it for a down payment on a second car, but that has a whole string of problems associated with it as well. Yet another monthly payment, possible increase in insurance, not to mention giving my wife mobility. I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with that (Kidding, kidding honey, put the gun away).

There's always a nice vacation. A cruise, a resort stay, a cross-country easy-rider-esque jaunt that hopefully doesn't involve drug-induced hallucinations and death by redneck. (What happened to you, Dennis Hopper? You used to be cool, man.) The only problem with that line of thought is when would I go. Between a full time job and 5 college classes, there aren't too many opportunities for travel. (See what I did there? Totally snuck in more bragging. Betcha didn't even notice. Okay, you probably did. I'm sorry.) Sure, I could go during spring break, but that's when everybody else is going. So unless I want to go to Wichita, KS, odds are against me finding anything cheap or drunk topless coed-free.

Is a puzzlement (name that movie). Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

I Finally Have It All Figured Out...

So have any of you heard of this "Southbeach Diet" thing? Apparently it's all the rage. Well the missus and I decided to give it a go, just for the fun of it (and maybe a few medical concerns, but that's none of your cotton-pickin' business, now is it?). Well it worked. We did it for 2 weeks before Thanksgiving and I lost 22lbs in that 2 week period. {Huzzah. Huzzah} I always get the genie from Aladdin singing "Hail, the conquering hero! BRRR BRR BUDDA BAH BUDDA BAH, buddabuh boppa doo" whenever I get all narcissistic like this.

Of course, I was starting from 252 lbs at 6'3", so I had plenty of room for improvement. And now I have plenty of room (wait for it) IN MY PANTS! (no, that was not an invitation. You know, if I'm not careful with these asides, this whole post could be in parentheses. Wouldn't that be funny? Writing a couple of sentences about one topic, and then spending the rest of the post commenting on those things I was writing about and the styles I was writing them in. {sigh} That'd be a hoot. Anywho.... Oh right) But we went on hiatus for the holidays and of course I gained back about 10 of those el bees, so we decided to give it another go (heh, heh, I-oh nevermind) after the new year got going.

Well, I haven't been quite as successful this time around. Maybe it's destiny for me to be this weight, but I lost those pounds I gained back during the Christmas break, and NOT ONE OUNCE MORE. I emphasize that not only to wake you with my shouting if you had started to doze off, but also cuz it sucks. Dieting is only fun when it's working. I'm so not one of those people you can tell, "give it a few weeks, you'll start to see results". Homie don't play dat. So I quit. The diet is in phases and this one is supposed to last until Sunday, but I went ahead and got some fast food last night. It was good too. What's worse is instead of the strong, supportive wife telling me,"No, we really need to stick with this. It's just a few more days." I got, "I could go for some pizza. Can we get pizza?" We got Taco Bell instead.

But at least I've started working out. I did 30 minutes on my elliptical trainer last night. And that really sucked. What I've figured out (and the title of this post, only 87 paragraphs in, way to drag it out) is that something in your life has to suck. There can't always be rainbows and sunshines and lollipops. If you don't make something suck, life will start sucking all on its own. Better you take the bull by the horns and at least get to choose the sucky parts. Now this is a risky choice, since there's always the chance that life's gonna just go right ahead and suck anyway, but I feel like the odds are greatly reduced if you're running the show.

This could be for a number of reasons. You need the bad to appreciate the good, everything must be in balance, Earl Hickey's Karma talk, whatever. But it's true. Sure some people have it better than others, and others don't necessarily see how bad some have it since others are on the other side of the fence thinking that some are just fat and happy when in fact some aren't all that happy and are wishing they had it as good as others do. And I think i need to lie down.

So what does it all mean? I'm getting back in shape! Yay me! I give it a month.