Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

This morning my tire blew out on my way into the office. After an excessive amount of effort that I don't have the face for, I replaced the destroyed tire with a spare and then took the car in to the experts. The experts told me that I needed four new tires and I immediately accepted this because I'm a sucker when it comes to people telling me what to do with my car. Then the tire man told me that this would cost two hundred trillion dollars.

Eli: What?! I guess I'll have to dip into my child's college fund.

Man: Oh? How old is your child?

Eli: Huh? Oh I don't have one.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

I received this text from Cathie without any accompanying explanation. 

Broome Bungalow

Recently Matt bought a new house. And when I say "new," I mean "super old and disgusting."

I swear to you he was purposefully looking for the grossest house available. He didn't want anything remotely updated. I saw him scoff at one that had a newly remodeled kitchen.

In Matt's confusing mind, he can't understand why he would spend money on someone else's remodel. Even if the place had been recently renovated, he would tear it apart and make it his own anyway. And so, he set off to buy the most disgusting house in all the land, because the price would be right, and that way he could gut the whole thing and turn it into exactly what he wanted.

Accordingly, as soon as he found a terrifying house with a floor plan he could "work with," he offered 14 cents for it and signed the papers a few weeks later.

I can tell that you don't believe me about this house. But please be advised that one entire room in the basement was filled with the world's creepiest dolls.

Bob and Cathie Need Each Other

Recently Bob and Cathie flew to Washington DC. The capital of the United States of God Bless America.

They had a layover in Denver. And for reasons unknown to their offspring, they felt it imperative to text all of us the step-by-step details of their every move. That's when we got the below text from Bob.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

My assistant, Brianne, walks into my office every morning and asks me what kind of "mood" I'm in before saying anything else. I don't know if this means that she sees me as a moody person. But if I say anything besides, "I'm super happy today," she offers to give me a very uncomfortable hug, which I know she doesn't actually want to give because she has more personal space issues than I do. This essentially becomes a very inappropriate and confusing game of chicken that I feel like I always lose.

I feel like only a mom can pull that off as well as she can.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Mr. Pants does not like to be bothered during Survivor.

Return of the Ants

I lived a nightmare recently.

You guys. ANTS.

Some of you are old enough to remember that this isn't my first foray into ant-tastrophe. Daniel and I participated in World War III with the creatures in Palau three years ago.

So when I saw a small bundle of ants crawling through my kitchen recently like they owned the place, I was all like, "this isn't my first rodeo." So I killed them with my bare hands like a man without a conscience and then I ate cheese with those same unwashed hands because this is America and I can do whatever I want here without any consequences.

Well the next day I saw a new gaggle of them in the same spot, but this time they looked pissed. Like how a gang looks after one of its own gets shot.

NOT THAT WE KNOW WHAT GANGS ARE, CATHIE!

So I killed those ones, too. With my same old bare hands. I ate more cheese. Everything was fine.

Troop Beverly Hills is One of the Most Important Films of Our Time

If you're one of my 7 disappointed Twitter followers, you may have seen me what-the-kids-are-calling "tweet" this recently:

You likely wondered what prompted me to express such a controversial opinion. Well, I'll tell you.

I watched Troop Beverly Hills two weeks ago. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. Because it was AMAZING.

Obviously I had seen it when I was a kid. I mean, it didn't raise me to the extent that Full House did. But it was sort of like the fun aunt that you get to go stay with when your parents go on vacation without you. And then you put the fun aunt's toddler onto an office chair and spin it around and around until the toddler falls off and onto the the concrete basement floor and then fun aunt's scary husband comes and yells at you and you still feel awkward around him today even though that happened more than 21 years ago and you're a thirty-one year old man.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

I've been listening to Hamilton non-stop for 72 hours and now all of my thoughts are happening in rap. But then when I try to talk it just comes out sounding like a bad Yoda impression. But OMG, y'all. I freaking love Hamilton. I want to have all of Broadway's babies right now. AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'M READY TO BE A PARENT.

Also, not that we know what rap is, Cathie! We only listen to Christian rock!

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

I helped the Pantses move last weekend. Matt Pants hit 300 things with that truck.

Behind the Scenes

You know how I can't technology? Remember how that's a thing? It's like one of the cornerstones upon which It Just Gets Stranger was built. The other ones are my hair, interpretive dancing, and Tami's wig collection.

Well, you must understand that my inability to technology has hardly been exaggerated over the years. Not that I've ever exaggerated anything else on Stranger. Of course.

I'm reminded of a time in 2008 when, while surrounded by roommates whose patience should earn them a Tony, I asked after receiving a very simple explanation about how the Internet works, "so tell me this: what's the difference between Yahoo and the Internet?"

Please do note that Stranger was born in 2007, four or five months before, what-is-commonly-now-called, "the Yahoo incident" occurred.

It is truly a miracle that Stranger ever got off the ground in the first place. I actually think that several thousand years from now when civilization is reading their Bible based off of our people, Stranger's origins may be included as one of the Old Testament miracle stories. It will go right after the part where my right ear somehow stayed attached to my head despite Cathie holding me off of the ground by it for seven consecutive years beginning in 1990. And right before the part where I got a girlfriend in Moscow in 2009 despite having worms and looking like a British lesbian Presbyterian in the 90s.

Episode 3: The World of Pranks

Welcome back! Join us for episode three of Strangerville, in which we explore the World of Pranks. A barbershop mishap, vehicle misidentification, police corruption, and destructive homemade projects teach us the boundaries of pranks and the repercussions when things go bad.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Cathie: Why do you always say "not that I know what that means, Cathie" on your blog?

Eli: I'm covering myself so I don't get in trouble since I know you read Stranger.

Cathie: Well I'll have you know I'm actually much rougher around the edges than you think. I smoked a cigarette once when I was ten!

Eli: WHAT?! You bad ass!

Cathie: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT WORD!?

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Hiking with good company in Salt Lake City.

A New Flaw

I've been having this really weird problem lately so I texted Sam about it because he's an orthodontist so I insist on going to him for all of my medical needs.

Is Adele Real?

Remember how Adam came and tore out my entire concrete pond while I was out of town and then I nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize (decision pending) and had 30 stars named after him?

Well there has been a large pile of jagged and probably-asbestos concrete in my yard for past couple of weeks. I decided to hire someone to haul it away because I already did manual labor this year and this face wasn't made for work.

So I started calling people and everyone was like, "sure, I'll come do that for you. It will cost you 12 billion dollars." And then I would yell back into the phone, "well I've never!" like a classy broad in 1940.

Apparently everyone in the whole world hates hauling concrete and so nobody is willing to do it unless they are paid 12 billion dollars for it.

That is, everyone except for my brother-in-law Jeff, who I think might actually be a perfect human being.