On Saturday we had our annual family adult Christmas outing. Wait. That sounds wrong. That sounds like my family once a year engages in x-rated Christmas festivities.
You know what I mean. The adults get together and have an evening in December where nobody is having to scream, "STOP BITING YOUR SISTER" the entire time. Well, they have to scream it less anyway. Guys, I'm only 29. You can't expect me to be completely well-behaved.
As you can imagine, adult Christmas outing is a wonderful thing.
There are eight adults in my family, which is the exact number of seats in my sister Krisanda's gigantic Mormon assault vehicle that she and my brother-in-law use to drive around their four adorable children. So we all rode together.
Showing posts with label Tellin' It Like It Is Award. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tellin' It Like It Is Award. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Yahoo! Answers IV
I hope it's not too soon, but today I bring you Yahoo! Answers IV. I want to scoop all of these people up and take them home with me. I think my favorite part of this one is that people actually tried to give real answers for question 6. Also, I am officially awarding Ninjai from question 1 the "Tellin' It Like It Is" Award. Congratulations, Ninjai. Join the list of mind-speakers proudly.
Question 1: Am I too old to have children? My husband and I will both be celebrating our 90th birthdays next summer. We are thinking about adopting a baby because everyone needs a home. Is this crazy? My husband has a hard time remembering things, but I'm in pretty good shape and can usually drive a car and we both know how to play a mean game of canasta!
Question 1: Am I too old to have children? My husband and I will both be celebrating our 90th birthdays next summer. We are thinking about adopting a baby because everyone needs a home. Is this crazy? My husband has a hard time remembering things, but I'm in pretty good shape and can usually drive a car and we both know how to play a mean game of canasta!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Way the World Works
Have you ever gone to a road race? There is one thing that is certain to happen at literally every single road race that is ever planned: they will not have your shirt size. This is absolutely the case 100% of the time. No exceptions whatsoever. They will, however, have hundreds of t-shirts that are 2 sizes larger than anyone could possibly ever wear who would be interested in running a road race. They will have exactly 0 smalls, 4 mediums, 75 larges, 2,000 XLs, and roughly 8 million XXL-XXXLs (and this all despite the fact that only 200 people registered to run). And I am absolutely positive that nobody who has ever run a road race has ever wanted anything larger than a large and 98% would prefer a small. This is even more ridiculous when the race is a marathon (although maybe not as I am regularly passed in marathons by overweight middle-aged men who don't seem to be straining themselves--this is depressing for many reasons, not the least of which is that this is evidence that regular exercise is no guarantee, apparently, of anything. Interestingly in last year's marathon the large group of overweight middle-aged men were all dressed as the Statue of Liberty. I never did find out why this was the case but I was embarrassed for humanity).
Races don't have the market cornered on nonsensical order decisions. I am always floored that in every store I ever enter I can find a pretty similar ratio of clothing items. Some have argued that surely the store ordered an equal number of sizes initially and the smaller sizes just sold more quickly because the smaller sizes fit actual people. To this I have two responses: first, this does not explain why the ratios are so imbalanced even when the item is clearly new, and second, if it really is the case that the normal sizes are selling more quickly, then why on Earth wouldn't the store order more in those sizes in the first place?
And these stores have other problems as well: I went to Sears recently. At least I think I did. I pulled up to a large building that looked like it had been shot-out during the Civil War. When I walked in I had the distinct impression that this store had been shut-down in 1985 and they just forgot to lock the doors. I noticed a sign pointing me to the appliances, which apparently were located in the basement. When I got there and asked spandex lady with a Sears name tag where a certain item might be located, she informed me that that appliance was on the third floor with some of the other appliances (all of this amid cackles, the source of which I never really understood). When I arrived on the third floor after walking up the escalator (yes, walking. It of course was not working at the time) I searched for a while until I found butterfly eyelashes girl who was about 40 years younger than spandex lady but equally helpful. Butterfly eyelashes girl nodded and assured me that what I was looking for was located in the basement. Feeling like I was well on my way to getting caught in an eternal loop (and at Sears, the happiest place on Earth), I explained to her what spandex lady had told me (but without the mysterious cackles) to which butterfly eyelashes responded, "well . . . it sounds like you figured out that we don't have any then." I know I just gave one out recently, but I would like to officially award butterfly eyelashes the Tellin'-it-like-it-is-award. She seems like the type who has probably earned it every day of her life.
Because I'm the easiest customer in the world to please, I'm sure I'll go back. Maybe they have a pile of XXL t-shirts I can dig through.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Races don't have the market cornered on nonsensical order decisions. I am always floored that in every store I ever enter I can find a pretty similar ratio of clothing items. Some have argued that surely the store ordered an equal number of sizes initially and the smaller sizes just sold more quickly because the smaller sizes fit actual people. To this I have two responses: first, this does not explain why the ratios are so imbalanced even when the item is clearly new, and second, if it really is the case that the normal sizes are selling more quickly, then why on Earth wouldn't the store order more in those sizes in the first place?
And these stores have other problems as well: I went to Sears recently. At least I think I did. I pulled up to a large building that looked like it had been shot-out during the Civil War. When I walked in I had the distinct impression that this store had been shut-down in 1985 and they just forgot to lock the doors. I noticed a sign pointing me to the appliances, which apparently were located in the basement. When I got there and asked spandex lady with a Sears name tag where a certain item might be located, she informed me that that appliance was on the third floor with some of the other appliances (all of this amid cackles, the source of which I never really understood). When I arrived on the third floor after walking up the escalator (yes, walking. It of course was not working at the time) I searched for a while until I found butterfly eyelashes girl who was about 40 years younger than spandex lady but equally helpful. Butterfly eyelashes girl nodded and assured me that what I was looking for was located in the basement. Feeling like I was well on my way to getting caught in an eternal loop (and at Sears, the happiest place on Earth), I explained to her what spandex lady had told me (but without the mysterious cackles) to which butterfly eyelashes responded, "well . . . it sounds like you figured out that we don't have any then." I know I just gave one out recently, but I would like to officially award butterfly eyelashes the Tellin'-it-like-it-is-award. She seems like the type who has probably earned it every day of her life.
Because I'm the easiest customer in the world to please, I'm sure I'll go back. Maybe they have a pile of XXL t-shirts I can dig through.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The End of the World
In case you hadn't heard yet, the world is ending on May 21st (this coming Saturday). See http://www.wecanknow.com/. These people mean business. When I tried to order a bumper sticker from them this afternoon, I was told that it's too late because "with our Lord's Return such a short time away, we are no longer offering free printed materials since there is not enough time remaining for us to effectively produce and distribute them." (And by the way, I would like to take this time to formally award wecanknow.com the "Tellin-it-like-it-is" award. Congratulations. May you join the short list of mind-speakers proudly).
When I saw this, I thought, maybe I should stop studying for the bar. I mean, I don't have that much to lose because they've given me a date that's close enough that I don't forfeit much if I alter my week plans in vein. Had they listed May 21st of next year as the date, it would be a trickier decision. On the one hand, if I stopped everything boring that I was doing and the world did in fact end when predicted, then I would have made out pretty well in that situation. Of course if I wasted the year and nothing happened after all, I would be pretty upset with someone.
But Saturday? I could blow some pretty miserable things off this week, because there's no sense in memorizing a bunch of stuff about criminal punishments if God is going to swoop down and take care of it all with his own form of due process just four days from now. If he doesn't show up, I can make up four days pretty quickly.
Other things you may want to consider blowing off this week:
1. Brushing your teeth
2. Exercise
3. Eating sushi just so your friends think you're cultured (it doesn't really have that effect anymore anyway).
4. Planning your summer family reunion (especially if you're ordering t-shirts (see wecanknow.com message above)).
5. Yard work (it may all get burned up on Saturday anyway)
6. Anything at your job that has a deadline post-May 21st (you're probably pretty safe to hold off for now)
7. Don't start Crime & Punishment. In my experience it will take more than six years to finish it (I did read 3 pages recently, in case you wanted an update on my progress. But it's going back on hold until after May 21st).
8. Calling any customer service line to get a problem resolved (especially if it's Dell or T-Mobile, in which case you may be on the phone until the judgment day no matter when it comes anyway).
9. Buying anything from Costco. You won't get through it in time and it will take you an hour to find what you're looking for.
10. Dieting. I mean, you probably don't want gluttony to be listed among your final acts, but there's really no point in starving yourself for the next four days if there will be no need to have a beach body this summer.
I only wish I had heard about this before my long run last Saturday where I actually attempted to drink out of a river because (surprise, surprise) I somehow forgot, again, that my body needs fluid when I exercise in the blazing sun for two hours at a time. Fortunately I stopped myself from river-drinking after noticing a dead animal half-way in the water just four feet up-stream (it was a May miracle).
Anything else anyone would like to hold off on until we're sure that there will be a next week?
On the bright side, if the world does end, at least that means that "Glee" won't return for a third season.
~It Just Gets Stranger
When I saw this, I thought, maybe I should stop studying for the bar. I mean, I don't have that much to lose because they've given me a date that's close enough that I don't forfeit much if I alter my week plans in vein. Had they listed May 21st of next year as the date, it would be a trickier decision. On the one hand, if I stopped everything boring that I was doing and the world did in fact end when predicted, then I would have made out pretty well in that situation. Of course if I wasted the year and nothing happened after all, I would be pretty upset with someone.
But Saturday? I could blow some pretty miserable things off this week, because there's no sense in memorizing a bunch of stuff about criminal punishments if God is going to swoop down and take care of it all with his own form of due process just four days from now. If he doesn't show up, I can make up four days pretty quickly.
Other things you may want to consider blowing off this week:
1. Brushing your teeth
2. Exercise
3. Eating sushi just so your friends think you're cultured (it doesn't really have that effect anymore anyway).
4. Planning your summer family reunion (especially if you're ordering t-shirts (see wecanknow.com message above)).
5. Yard work (it may all get burned up on Saturday anyway)
6. Anything at your job that has a deadline post-May 21st (you're probably pretty safe to hold off for now)
7. Don't start Crime & Punishment. In my experience it will take more than six years to finish it (I did read 3 pages recently, in case you wanted an update on my progress. But it's going back on hold until after May 21st).
8. Calling any customer service line to get a problem resolved (especially if it's Dell or T-Mobile, in which case you may be on the phone until the judgment day no matter when it comes anyway).
9. Buying anything from Costco. You won't get through it in time and it will take you an hour to find what you're looking for.
10. Dieting. I mean, you probably don't want gluttony to be listed among your final acts, but there's really no point in starving yourself for the next four days if there will be no need to have a beach body this summer.
I only wish I had heard about this before my long run last Saturday where I actually attempted to drink out of a river because (surprise, surprise) I somehow forgot, again, that my body needs fluid when I exercise in the blazing sun for two hours at a time. Fortunately I stopped myself from river-drinking after noticing a dead animal half-way in the water just four feet up-stream (it was a May miracle).
Anything else anyone would like to hold off on until we're sure that there will be a next week?
On the bright side, if the world does end, at least that means that "Glee" won't return for a third season.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Oil Change
Last week I went somewhere to get my oil changed. There are only 8 things I hate worse than getting my oil changed (8. Moving, 7. My foot disease, 6. Wet locker room floors, 5. Animals, 4. The Blackberry Pearl, 3. Swimming laps in a pool, 2. Laundry, 1. Grocery Shopping). This is partly because I have no idea what I'm doing when I walk into these places. Normally I have a little pep-talk with myself before I go in, sometimes driving around the block two or three times to make sure I get through it. It usually goes something like this: "O.k. son. It's just an oil change. These people can't ruin your life unless you let them. It's o.k. to say 'no' if they offer you something you don't want. Be firm. You are a strong person. That doesn't have to change just because a bunch of men covered in grease are yelling at you using words you don't understand in a small dirty room that smells like popcorn, cars, and coffee. Why on Earth do they offer popcorn in there anyway? Do people actually dig a handful of oily popcorn out of that machine that clearly hasn't been cleaned since 1975 and has black fingerprints all up and down the sides? By the way, you need to stop by the grocery store on the way home and get some milk. Might as well pick up a couple of bags of Peanut M&M's while you're there. Oh, and apples."
Once the pep-talk has taken place, I go inside and do my best to make them think I know all about cars but I'm just having them change my oil because I'm too busy to do it myself. Employee then looks at my car for 3.2 seconds and then approaches me with a long list of things that he swears up and down have got to be fixed that day or several small children in China will die. Usually, in an attempt to feel like someone who actually takes care of his car, I choose one of the things on the list to agree to while declining the rest against employee's judgmental head shakes and warnings. I then sit down in the waiting room again with stale popcorn and girl with giant bump-it Utah hair who is screaming into a cell phone about how cute someone else's hair and shoes are. Then employee walks back in and calls out that they are finished with the Sentra. I pause for 23 seconds and look around the room to see if anyone else is going to claim it because I never can remember what kind of car I drive when I'm put on the spot like that in front of so many people. When I finally check out, I always end up paying somewhere around twice the amount I had anticipated. Oil change place, one. Eli, zero. I get into my car and before doing anything else I quickly study the new sticker they've placed on the windshield, telling me the exact date they expect to see me again. I consider it the new dooms day. Another day to dread, now months away. And I speed away promising myself next time will be different.
But last week something special happened, throwing me into a whole new routine. I stopped by the place on my way home from work. I was dressed in what I thought was classy business casual, complemented with my favorite green socks. When employee came into the waiting room to get me, he looked me up and down and said in a voice reserved for breaking bad news, "Oh, it must be laundry day."
Eli: Huh?
Employee: Laundry day. Because of how you're dressed.
Eli: Yeah . . . What?
Employee: Well I just mean . . . obviously you're wearing that.
Eli: You mean my green socks?
Employee: Oh yeah, the socks too.
Eli: Too?
Employee: No offense. I think it's great man! I love it when people dress however they want, whenever they want.
Eli: Well I don't dress like this all the time. I'm just coming from work.
Employee: Oooooooohhhhhhh. Do you work at a call center or somewhere where they don't care about how you look.
Eli: . . . So how's that oil change coming?
For obvious reasons, I would like to officially award "Oil Change Employee" the "Tellin-it-like-it-is" award.
Getting my oil changed is darn near moving between wet locker room floors and animals on my list of things I hate. Darn near it.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Once the pep-talk has taken place, I go inside and do my best to make them think I know all about cars but I'm just having them change my oil because I'm too busy to do it myself. Employee then looks at my car for 3.2 seconds and then approaches me with a long list of things that he swears up and down have got to be fixed that day or several small children in China will die. Usually, in an attempt to feel like someone who actually takes care of his car, I choose one of the things on the list to agree to while declining the rest against employee's judgmental head shakes and warnings. I then sit down in the waiting room again with stale popcorn and girl with giant bump-it Utah hair who is screaming into a cell phone about how cute someone else's hair and shoes are. Then employee walks back in and calls out that they are finished with the Sentra. I pause for 23 seconds and look around the room to see if anyone else is going to claim it because I never can remember what kind of car I drive when I'm put on the spot like that in front of so many people. When I finally check out, I always end up paying somewhere around twice the amount I had anticipated. Oil change place, one. Eli, zero. I get into my car and before doing anything else I quickly study the new sticker they've placed on the windshield, telling me the exact date they expect to see me again. I consider it the new dooms day. Another day to dread, now months away. And I speed away promising myself next time will be different.
But last week something special happened, throwing me into a whole new routine. I stopped by the place on my way home from work. I was dressed in what I thought was classy business casual, complemented with my favorite green socks. When employee came into the waiting room to get me, he looked me up and down and said in a voice reserved for breaking bad news, "Oh, it must be laundry day."
Eli: Huh?
Employee: Laundry day. Because of how you're dressed.
Eli: Yeah . . . What?
Employee: Well I just mean . . . obviously you're wearing that.
Eli: You mean my green socks?
Employee: Oh yeah, the socks too.
Eli: Too?
Employee: No offense. I think it's great man! I love it when people dress however they want, whenever they want.
Eli: Well I don't dress like this all the time. I'm just coming from work.
Employee: Oooooooohhhhhhh. Do you work at a call center or somewhere where they don't care about how you look.
Eli: . . . So how's that oil change coming?
For obvious reasons, I would like to officially award "Oil Change Employee" the "Tellin-it-like-it-is" award.
Getting my oil changed is darn near moving between wet locker room floors and animals on my list of things I hate. Darn near it.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tech "Support"
This one is for all of you who have ever called tech support. Or customer service numbers for that matter.
I had quite the fantastic experience this week which I will painstakingly detail for you now in a minute-by-minute recap. Prepare to be amazed . . .
~
Thursday
1:45: I realized that my power cord for my laptop (which I'm disturbingly addicted to by the way--one day they'll have to surgically remove this thing from my hands), had stopped working for reasons unknown. My laptop is under warranty (and it's pretty new) so I went up to the tech support office in the law building who promised that if there was any problem with our computers they would immediately take care of us if we bought the kind of computer they told us to buy at the beginning of the school year.
I fell for it of course and bought the computer they told me I "just had to have!" When I approached the law school tech support to ask them about my problem, none of them made eye contact with me and one of them eventually told me that there was nothing they could do so I would just have to call Dell.
I fell for it of course and bought the computer they told me I "just had to have!" When I approached the law school tech support to ask them about my problem, none of them made eye contact with me and one of them eventually told me that there was nothing they could do so I would just have to call Dell.
~
~
1:52: I got the phone number from another student who overheard me complaining and apparently had the same problem recently.
~
~
1:55: I sat down to call Dell and got someone named Austin on the phone. I generally really try to see the good in people and always try to remain polite on the phone no matter who I'm talking to. So now all my credibility will go out the window when I tell you that I discovered that Austin may be the dumbest living organism to EVER be employed by ANY company that has EVER been in existence since the beginning of time and maybe even beyond.
~
~
1:56-2:00:
Austin: Hello sir and thank you for calling Dell. Can I get your phone number?
Eli: Sure. It's 801-123-4567
Austin: OK so that's 578-1121?
Eli: . . . no . . . 801-123-4567 . . .
Austin: OK thank you and can I get your address?
Eli: Could you repeat my phone number again for me so I know you got it?
Austin: . . . um. . . 71-34
Eli: OK, you are asking for my phone number right?
Austin: Yes sir. Now may I have your address.
Eli: First I would like for you to get my phone number correctly. 801-123-4567
Austin: OK thank you and your address?
Eli: What's my phone number Austin?
Austin: OK thank you and your address please?
~
~
2:00-2:10
Austin: And what's your problem today sir?
Eli: Well my power cord has stopped working and I need you to send me a new one.
Austin: OK sir so your computer is broken?
Eli: No my computer is fine. My power cord has stopped working.
Austin: OK sir. Can you please explain to me how you know the power cord is not working?
Eli: . . . I plug it in . . . and it doesn't work.
Austin: OK sir. So do I understand correctly that your computer is broken?
Eli: No . . . my power cord is not working.
Austin: Sir, how do you know it's your power cord.
Eli: Because the power cord doesn't work when I plug it in. I tested my computer with other power cords and it works fine with others.
Austin: OK sir. Do you think the problem may be with the power cord?
Eli: Yes
Austin: OK sir. Do you think the problem may be with the power cord?
Eli: Still yes.
Austin: OK sir. So your computer is broken?
Eli: . . . no . . . my computer is fine. I have a problem with my power cord.
Austin: OK sir. How do you know the problem is with the power cord?
Eli: . . . seriously?
Austin: OK sir. I will put you on hold for 5 minutes but probably 2 or 3 and I will find help for you but I will put you on hold for 3 minutes but I'm going to put you on hold now.
Eli: OK
Austin: but I'm going to put you on hold now.
Eli: OK
Austin: to help you. Probably 4 minutes OK?
Eli: OK
Austin: OK I'm going to put you on hold now.
Eli: I know!
Austin: OK just for 2 minutes. OK?
Eli: . . .
~
~
2:10-2:20: On Hold
~
~
2:20-2:30:
Repeat the conversation from 2:00-2:10 EXACTLY but this time add a lot more irritation in my voice.
~
~
2:30-2:35:
I give the address for the law school and ask them to send the power cord there. Then Austin explains 5 times that I need to send back the faulty cord when I get the new one. Austin asks another 6 times (I'm really not kidding on this one) if the problem is with the cord and how I know the problem is with the cord.
~
~
2:35-2:37:
Austin: OK you should see that cord in a week or two.
Eli: Can't you send it faster?
Austin: OK you should see that cord in a week or two.
Eli: . . . What do you suggest I do until then?
Austin: Use your battery.
Eli: OK I have two hours left on my battery. That's not really going to last me for a couple of weeks.
Austin: Well you shouldn't have broken your computer. (For this I officially award Austin the tech guy the "tellin' like it is award.")
Eli: . . . Well you shouldn't have sent me a faulty product! Perhaps I should go advertise that Dell makes crappy merchandise.
Austin: OK you should see that cord in one day.
Eli: Thanks.
~
~
2:37-2:50
Austin calls my cell FOUR times while I sit in on the last 13 minutes of class that are left. Each time he leaves a message. Each message says the exact same thing almost word for word: Another reminder to send back the faulty cord when I get the new one and then another question about whether I'm sure it's the cord and how I know something is wrong (as if I was on the phone with him to answer the question).
~
~
2:50-2:55
Austin calls AGAIN and I answer this time.
Austin: I was just calling to ask you if you're sure the problem is with the cord and ask you how you know it isn't working.
Eli: ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!!!????
Austin: I'm sorry sir. Did I catch you at a bad time?
Eli: Listen Austin, I know we really hit it off on the phone before but I'm really not interested in maintaining this relationship if we have to talk on the phone this much.
Austin: . . . Sir I'm calling to remind you to send back the faulty cord when-
Eli: I KNOW!!!!!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!
Austin: Also sir, I looked at the address you gave and it can't possibly be correct because there is no street name here.
(I explain that the address is correct and not to worry about it).
~
~
3:00-3:10
Austin's supervisor calls me.
Allen: Hi Eli; I'm just calling to tell you that your order was cancelled because you gave us a fake address.
Eli: You have GOT to be kidding me!!!
Allen: Perhaps you could give us a real address and we'll consider resetting your order.
Eli: Allen, could you do something for me? Pull out the hierarchy list at your company, find your name, count about 13 people up from there and transfer me to that person. I know it's a long shot but I'm bound to find someone there that has the ability to help me without giving me an ulcer.
Allen: I understand you are getting frustrated. Perhaps you could just give me the correct address.
Eli: Allen, I gave you the correct address. That is all. Send the &$#% package.
Allen: OK but if there waaaas another address, what would it be?
Eli: Hmmm. . . lets see (I give him the same address).
Allen: I don't think the FedEx guy will find this address.
Eli: We're done here.
~
~
Friday
I received the package first thing in the morning. And yes, I remembered to send back the faulty product.
~
~It Just Gets Stranger
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The 30 Page Ballot
After tragically getting rejected at the voting booth two days ago, I decided today that it was probably inspired as I haven't really checked out any of the issues I would be voting on and the only thing I was sure about was my choice of presidential candidate which I've been pretty solid on for several months now. I guess the rejection will probably require some explanation: When I tried to register to vote I forgot to sign the form so about 2 months later it was sent back to me in the mail (I have no idea why it took 2 months to get rejected but I'm sure it has to do with some pernicious scandal). By the time I got it in the mail it was like the last day to register so I had to run it down to the Provo city building and turn it in in person. Well it turns out that you can't vote early if you registered late so after driving all the way down to the voting station and standing in a long line (ok the voting station is a 3 minute drive and there were only 4 people in line), I was told I can't vote until election day. I was mostly bummed because I really wanted an "I voted today!" sticker but they wouldn't give me one because apparently those things are a hot commodity that scream "VIP" so they don't just give those out to voter rejects. (Consequently I asked for an "I tried to vote today but I got rejected because I was too flaky to register on time" sticker and the girl did NOT think that was funny).
I was so excited to vote because I've never participated in a presidential election and I feel like I've put WAY too much time and brain power into studying this thing out over the last 12 or so months (sometimes bordering on obsession . . . ok always bordering on obsession) to not vote. Plus I feel it's an honor to get to vote and I'm doing my patriotic duty by engaging in the system even if I'm not overly thrilled about any candidate. Now to answer all of your disgusted gasps when you learned that I've never voted before: during the last election I was on my mission on the other side of the world. Yes I could have gotten an absentee ballot but I hadn't been in the states for a year and a half and my mind was far from politics at that time. I didn't even know who was running against the incumbent and by the time I realized it was election time it was too late anyway. The election before that one I was too young to vote (yes I'm a baby).
So today I decided, despite DESPERATELY needing to study, to get online and check out what I was going to be voting for. What I saw invoked emotions in me that I didn't even know existed. Let us begin:
Presidential Candidates:
After reading through all 65 names of candidates that I had never heard of, I was already feeling a bit ignorant of the whole process. You know what I'm talking about; these are the candidates that have a nickname in quotation marks next to their real name as if the nickname will somehow manipulate enough people into thinking that they know this person so they might as well vote for them (Example: Dale Bardene--"Dale the Rockstar!", Peter Barthollondecker--"Pistol Pete, the one-eye treat"). So by the time you get past all the "nickname candidates" the next set start to look pretty legit. The next set are the people who knew their name was diverse enough sounding to get a few votes so they got someone else to run with them who had the same quality. There are 7 or 8 of these (Example: Sergei Littlefoot Tonga and Maria Sayeed Johanson). You will be tempted to vote for one of these candidates in order to make yourself feel exotic. Then you get to the perennials; you know their names because they've somehow made it onto every ballot for every election in every state at every level for the last 30+ years, as if eventually the entire nation will freak out and elect them out of pity. Ralph Nader will always be found somewhere in this section; I believe even after he's dead they'll still accidentally put his name on the ballot out of habit. Then you get to Bob Barr and you almost vote for him because of how fun it is to say his name. Then you remember his campaign commercial which provoked no strong emotions in you other than the desire to play canasta and eat Cornflakes while talking about the good old days. By this time you've got to the only candidates that you're really familiar with (enough to dislike wholeheartedly) so you pick the less crappy of the two because you can't look at the other's name without wincing; or you'll write in Ron Paul on your way out to start your revolution because you're positive that 75% of the country is as addicted to him as you are because he got 110% on the latest Youtube poll.
Amendments:
Wait, Utah has a constitution? Well it must not be a good one because this ballot has 12 pages of proposed amendments. Each amendment has pages and pages of explanations that you'll never fully study out. You'll just vote "yes" or "no" based on what kind of a mood you're in that day. Or you might do an every other thing or whichever pattern you choose. Nonetheless, if you're under the age of 75 you won't have studied these out as efficiently as you should have, whether you want to admit it or not. I read up on most of them today and finally just assumed that politicians created them to make their jobs easier, something I'm not really interested in supporting as I'm not a huge fan of politicians right now. I'll likely vote "no" down the board so I feel like I'm sticking it to someone. (By the way, one amendment had to do with starting sessions a few weeks later so "people" could enjoy MLK weekend more without having to go back to work on Tuesday. So is the amendment going to let me have the week or two after MLK day off as well?).
Governor:
You despise the governor but you'll vote for him anyway because you don't want to vote for that whack-job that used to sell computers on TV. But you'll still complain about him and his creepy fake smile for the next 4 years.
The Rest:
I won't bore you with detailed descriptions of everything else on the ballot, mostly because it's all really the same. More people you've never heard of. Some people you have heard of and start to vote for but then realize their name is only familiar because you've driven past their overly large sign every day for 2 months and wondered what the heck it was for. You'll vote for your party on this one.
By the time you're ready to leave, you want that sticker; not because it looks nice; not because you just want it for your scrap book; it's because you feel like you just took a grueling test that you didn't study enough for which was probably irrelevant as there are no right answers anyway and you want some kind of gold star or recognition for doing it. And you'll wear that sticker proudly.
Well I better cut it off here. I've offended all 2 of you that are reading this (thanks mom and dad). I think I'll study up a little more on "Pistol Pete" and Bob Barr; there may be something promising there.
I was so excited to vote because I've never participated in a presidential election and I feel like I've put WAY too much time and brain power into studying this thing out over the last 12 or so months (sometimes bordering on obsession . . . ok always bordering on obsession) to not vote. Plus I feel it's an honor to get to vote and I'm doing my patriotic duty by engaging in the system even if I'm not overly thrilled about any candidate. Now to answer all of your disgusted gasps when you learned that I've never voted before: during the last election I was on my mission on the other side of the world. Yes I could have gotten an absentee ballot but I hadn't been in the states for a year and a half and my mind was far from politics at that time. I didn't even know who was running against the incumbent and by the time I realized it was election time it was too late anyway. The election before that one I was too young to vote (yes I'm a baby).
So today I decided, despite DESPERATELY needing to study, to get online and check out what I was going to be voting for. What I saw invoked emotions in me that I didn't even know existed. Let us begin:
Presidential Candidates:
After reading through all 65 names of candidates that I had never heard of, I was already feeling a bit ignorant of the whole process. You know what I'm talking about; these are the candidates that have a nickname in quotation marks next to their real name as if the nickname will somehow manipulate enough people into thinking that they know this person so they might as well vote for them (Example: Dale Bardene--"Dale the Rockstar!", Peter Barthollondecker--"Pistol Pete, the one-eye treat"). So by the time you get past all the "nickname candidates" the next set start to look pretty legit. The next set are the people who knew their name was diverse enough sounding to get a few votes so they got someone else to run with them who had the same quality. There are 7 or 8 of these (Example: Sergei Littlefoot Tonga and Maria Sayeed Johanson). You will be tempted to vote for one of these candidates in order to make yourself feel exotic. Then you get to the perennials; you know their names because they've somehow made it onto every ballot for every election in every state at every level for the last 30+ years, as if eventually the entire nation will freak out and elect them out of pity. Ralph Nader will always be found somewhere in this section; I believe even after he's dead they'll still accidentally put his name on the ballot out of habit. Then you get to Bob Barr and you almost vote for him because of how fun it is to say his name. Then you remember his campaign commercial which provoked no strong emotions in you other than the desire to play canasta and eat Cornflakes while talking about the good old days. By this time you've got to the only candidates that you're really familiar with (enough to dislike wholeheartedly) so you pick the less crappy of the two because you can't look at the other's name without wincing; or you'll write in Ron Paul on your way out to start your revolution because you're positive that 75% of the country is as addicted to him as you are because he got 110% on the latest Youtube poll.
Amendments:
Wait, Utah has a constitution? Well it must not be a good one because this ballot has 12 pages of proposed amendments. Each amendment has pages and pages of explanations that you'll never fully study out. You'll just vote "yes" or "no" based on what kind of a mood you're in that day. Or you might do an every other thing or whichever pattern you choose. Nonetheless, if you're under the age of 75 you won't have studied these out as efficiently as you should have, whether you want to admit it or not. I read up on most of them today and finally just assumed that politicians created them to make their jobs easier, something I'm not really interested in supporting as I'm not a huge fan of politicians right now. I'll likely vote "no" down the board so I feel like I'm sticking it to someone. (By the way, one amendment had to do with starting sessions a few weeks later so "people" could enjoy MLK weekend more without having to go back to work on Tuesday. So is the amendment going to let me have the week or two after MLK day off as well?).
Governor:
You despise the governor but you'll vote for him anyway because you don't want to vote for that whack-job that used to sell computers on TV. But you'll still complain about him and his creepy fake smile for the next 4 years.
The Rest:
I won't bore you with detailed descriptions of everything else on the ballot, mostly because it's all really the same. More people you've never heard of. Some people you have heard of and start to vote for but then realize their name is only familiar because you've driven past their overly large sign every day for 2 months and wondered what the heck it was for. You'll vote for your party on this one.
By the time you're ready to leave, you want that sticker; not because it looks nice; not because you just want it for your scrap book; it's because you feel like you just took a grueling test that you didn't study enough for which was probably irrelevant as there are no right answers anyway and you want some kind of gold star or recognition for doing it. And you'll wear that sticker proudly.
Well I better cut it off here. I've offended all 2 of you that are reading this (thanks mom and dad). I think I'll study up a little more on "Pistol Pete" and Bob Barr; there may be something promising there.
For your information and my validation, here's a link of everyone up for election: http://www.elections.utah.gov/2008Candidates.htm. See if you can pick out my favorite nickname candidate (hint: he's under "Utah Constitutional Offices").
By the way, I'm officially awarding myself the "Tellin' It Like It Is Award" for this post.
I'm a sarcastic sap, and I approve this message~
~It Just Gets Stranger
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Every Child's Nightmare: A True and Tragic Tale Part II
By way of update: It's not me. It's him.
As you know, I am going through a healing process right now in which I'm learning to come to grips with the fact that this 10 year old despises me like the desert hates the rain (that was so poetic of me! I get really artistic when I'm hurting). But what you may not know is that I now have a witness to the abuse.
While consulting a dear friend of mine at law school about my situation after seeing her all but adopt her assigned 5th grader, I was told "I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe you should just tell him a funny joke." I told her I tried that and got blank stares so she asked me what the joke was and I got the same reaction from her; it turns out that just because my 5-year-old niece just about got a hernia when I told her the joke a few weeks ago, I can't assume that a 10-year-old who has at least twice the reasoning ability is going to wet his pants over the same joke. I should have known that Kaylee was not a good test subject because right after I told her my joke and she laughed like a menopausal woman in the audience of "Ellen", she told me a joke that went something like this: "How many shapes are lights? . . . A LOT of colors!!!" She then laughed at her own joke at least as hard as she laughed at mine. At the time I thought that maybe I just didn't get it but now that I think about it, she may not be at the point yet where she understands the simple schematics of the common question/answer joke, the humor of which relies on some sort of organizational clarity or play on words.
So my friend Corey told me a joke, that was guaranteed to "kill", about a duck that visits the same store every day to ask for duck food. In the joke, the store-keeper tells the duck every day that they don't have duck food and finally threatens the duck that if he comes back again he'll "nail the ducks feet to the floor." The next day the duck comes back in and says, "do you have any nails?" The store-keeper responds, "no." So the duck says, "ok. Do you have any duck food?" Kills! Really. You're laughing.
Just after she told me the joke my 5th grader entered the room and plopped down in a chair, completely ignoring me when I said "hello." Corey gave me an encouraging look so I said "do you want to hear a joke?" He said, while rolling his eyes as if I just asked him to help me move and I hadn't even begun to pack when he showed up, "fine."
"So a duck walks into a store-"
"I've heard it!" (another roll of the eyes. For this I finally award child X the long overdue Tellin' It Like It Is Award).
I looked back to Corey whose eyes were wide, and she mouthed, as if she finally understood, "I'm so sorry. He really does hate you."
Corey, trying to help, said "maybe it's a different joke. How does yours' go?" He then said, "I don't remember." End of convo.
How am I going to make it every Tuesday until April? Maybe I should try Kaylee's joke on him . . . "A lot of colors." I think I almost get it.
PS- Uncle Will, I tried to tell him the Brown Chicken/Brown Cow joke (which is impossible to explain in print) but it didn't work. I think that may have been my fault though.
It Just Gets Stranger~
As you know, I am going through a healing process right now in which I'm learning to come to grips with the fact that this 10 year old despises me like the desert hates the rain (that was so poetic of me! I get really artistic when I'm hurting). But what you may not know is that I now have a witness to the abuse.
While consulting a dear friend of mine at law school about my situation after seeing her all but adopt her assigned 5th grader, I was told "I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe you should just tell him a funny joke." I told her I tried that and got blank stares so she asked me what the joke was and I got the same reaction from her; it turns out that just because my 5-year-old niece just about got a hernia when I told her the joke a few weeks ago, I can't assume that a 10-year-old who has at least twice the reasoning ability is going to wet his pants over the same joke. I should have known that Kaylee was not a good test subject because right after I told her my joke and she laughed like a menopausal woman in the audience of "Ellen", she told me a joke that went something like this: "How many shapes are lights? . . . A LOT of colors!!!" She then laughed at her own joke at least as hard as she laughed at mine. At the time I thought that maybe I just didn't get it but now that I think about it, she may not be at the point yet where she understands the simple schematics of the common question/answer joke, the humor of which relies on some sort of organizational clarity or play on words.
So my friend Corey told me a joke, that was guaranteed to "kill", about a duck that visits the same store every day to ask for duck food. In the joke, the store-keeper tells the duck every day that they don't have duck food and finally threatens the duck that if he comes back again he'll "nail the ducks feet to the floor." The next day the duck comes back in and says, "do you have any nails?" The store-keeper responds, "no." So the duck says, "ok. Do you have any duck food?" Kills! Really. You're laughing.
Just after she told me the joke my 5th grader entered the room and plopped down in a chair, completely ignoring me when I said "hello." Corey gave me an encouraging look so I said "do you want to hear a joke?" He said, while rolling his eyes as if I just asked him to help me move and I hadn't even begun to pack when he showed up, "fine."
"So a duck walks into a store-"
"I've heard it!" (another roll of the eyes. For this I finally award child X the long overdue Tellin' It Like It Is Award).
I looked back to Corey whose eyes were wide, and she mouthed, as if she finally understood, "I'm so sorry. He really does hate you."
Corey, trying to help, said "maybe it's a different joke. How does yours' go?" He then said, "I don't remember." End of convo.
How am I going to make it every Tuesday until April? Maybe I should try Kaylee's joke on him . . . "A lot of colors." I think I almost get it.
PS- Uncle Will, I tried to tell him the Brown Chicken/Brown Cow joke (which is impossible to explain in print) but it didn't work. I think that may have been my fault though.
It Just Gets Stranger~
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Scandal
Well I've completed day 2 of a 3-day-long BYU law school orientation (emphasis on the "long"). It's been pretty interesting so far and by far the best part of the experience is getting to meet so many new people and already feel the anticipated camaraderie that has presented itself as genuine niceness thus far. The law orientation adventure has been informative and mostly uneventful other than my all time best performance in today's mad-dash to get to the few remaining used books before they were all sold for a tenth of the price their new counterparts go for in the book store across the street. I was 25th in line and I managed to secure all of my books as well as the books for two other students who I tag-teamed with to find books for specific classes while they rummaged through the piles for our other classes. I didn't even have to run; I just walked in authoritatively and calmly claimed my prizes. I still don't know how it all worked out but I'm ecstatic that it saved us hundreds of dollars.
But the real reason I'm writing tonight is because of this evening's adventure. All new students were assigned in groups of 8 or 10 to go to professors' homes tonight for an intimate chat and refreshments: another ploy to get us to mingle, about which I have no complaints. I did, however, worry greatly about attending said event as I had not met a single person in my specific group and the instructions specifically stated that "you and a guest" are to come. I'm no expert but two days of law school orientation is enough for me to realize that that "guest" meant "spouse" as I'm quite sure I'm the only person in the class who isn't married and raising four or five kids. Realistically, (I know everyone gets a bit skeptical when I use that word) we were told that just over half of the class is married, but unless they are counting me as 50 people, I don't understand how on earth it isn't more like 85%.
So understandably I didn't want to show up to the small gathering with strangers and their wives completely alone. This is partly due to my shaken confidence this week which is a result of two hair-cuts at two different places within 30 hours of each other (another dramatic story for another dramatic day; suffice it to say, my hair is tragically MUCH shorter today than it was on Monday morning). In order to rectify the situation I asked my very good friend Alyssa to come with me and pose as my wife (we've often considered getting married purely out of convenience so this was just a trial). She graciously agreed to come thinking that I was probably exaggerating (imagine that) and that there would be plenty of other single people there. Well she was wrong and we knew it right when we got there and saw each person sitting next to their spouse in a circle of chairs while they talked about how to get through law school as a married couple (we did find out later that one girl in the back was also single; she must be the other one in the class).
Of course the group assumed that Alyssa and I were married (although we told noone this) and we got some great marriage advise directly from the professor who recommended that Alyssa and I take some class together. This was all after she and I realized that we missed our chance to set the record straight when we thought we heard someone ask if everyone there was married when we were disruptively mumbling back and forth about the girl who started breast-feeding right next to me in front of the entire group despite not knowing anyone there other than her husband and regardless of the fact that we were sitting in a circle fully exposed to each individual member of the group. Anyway, we weren't sure if that question had been asked and we thought it would be a bit awkward to say that we weren't married if that wasn't what they were talking about in the first place so the lies continued until we sat at a table 10 minutes later with one of the couples who asked us where we lived. I said that I lived in Provo and Alyssa in Springville which finally required the clarification that we were not married. Or engaged. Or thinking about getting married (we thought it was odd that anyone would ask that after we already told them we were not engaged. What if that was a touchy subject?) Anyway, apparently it was a bigger deal to this couple than it was to us that the whole group was functioning under the false pretense that Alyssa and I were building a life together because five minutes later it was announced to the professor that we were a "scandal" which I thought was a rather harsh and interesting choice of nouns but hey, I'm always looking to be a part of a good scandal. For this I officially award law student X the tellin' like it is award. Then the professor apologized profusely for recommending that Alyssa and I take a class together when we weren't even married which we assured him was no problem as we were really excited by the idea regardless of our marital status as it would be a fun way for us to sit on the back row together and be disruptive to an entire graduate class two or three times a week.
Despite the drama and looks of shock on the faces when our true selves were revealed, the evening wasn't so bad. Everyone we met was extremely nice and friendly and I can't wait to get to know them better. . . all except for the breast-feeding girl who didn't offer her milk to anyone else even though it was really hot and everyone was very thirsty.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Dead Bird Massacre Part II
Trust me. I didn't know there would be a part II either but my parents' backyard seems determined to be a toxic wasteland of death or some sort of bird graveyard. I really don't understand why this keeps happening here. I've always thought of my parents' yard as a birds' paradise: trees everywhere surrounding the immaculately clean bird feeders. Why don't the birds come here to live and then go three houses down to die where the neighbors seem absolutely determined to kill their grass this summer by taking the "Slow the flow save H2O" slogan a bit too seriously.
But I discovered the continuing trend of days-old-dead-birds this morning when I walked out into my parents' backyard and came tragically close to kissing a rotting dead bird lying face up, its beak opened wide, when I bent down to pick something up inches away from its body. I suddenly had flashbacks to the Dead Bird Massacre of July 26th (although today's specimen looked much worse) and I quickly fled into the house. I use the word "fled" because that's the word they always use in the scriptures when groups of people get freaked out and run for their lives.
I didn't think about it again until tonight when my mom came rushing through the back door, almost inaudibly ranting about some dead bird "with slugs coming out of its mouth!" (Cathie McCann: tellin' like it is) asking me to go out and get it. I must admit she handled the experience better than I did on July 26th which may have something to do with her experience with such situations; her brothers frequently put coiled rattlesnakes in the refrigerator growing up and I'm pretty sure she also had ring worm at some point when she was five although that may have been a made up story to get me to take a bath one night when I was seven.
Anyway, I told mom about July 26th and said as forcefully as I could that I took care of the last one and I was not willing to take the bullet again for these people. She laughed and 10 minutes later my dad walked outside with a thin garbage bag pulled over his bare hand (he had at least 10 fewer tools with loooooong sticks than I used to dispose of the previous bird) muttering something under his breath that was probably a curse to the heavens for only giving him one son and then making that son a pansy. On a side note I stopped feeling guilty for this about 8 years ago when I realized that Micalyne was the son he never had when she almost beat me in an arm-wrestle despite being my little sister, 2 years younger and about 70 pounds lighter.
But gone are the days when children could safely run barefoot through the grass without worrying about a decaying beak slicing their toe open.
And yes, I am in my mid-20s, and I do still live with my parents.
But I discovered the continuing trend of days-old-dead-birds this morning when I walked out into my parents' backyard and came tragically close to kissing a rotting dead bird lying face up, its beak opened wide, when I bent down to pick something up inches away from its body. I suddenly had flashbacks to the Dead Bird Massacre of July 26th (although today's specimen looked much worse) and I quickly fled into the house. I use the word "fled" because that's the word they always use in the scriptures when groups of people get freaked out and run for their lives.
I didn't think about it again until tonight when my mom came rushing through the back door, almost inaudibly ranting about some dead bird "with slugs coming out of its mouth!" (Cathie McCann: tellin' like it is) asking me to go out and get it. I must admit she handled the experience better than I did on July 26th which may have something to do with her experience with such situations; her brothers frequently put coiled rattlesnakes in the refrigerator growing up and I'm pretty sure she also had ring worm at some point when she was five although that may have been a made up story to get me to take a bath one night when I was seven.
Anyway, I told mom about July 26th and said as forcefully as I could that I took care of the last one and I was not willing to take the bullet again for these people. She laughed and 10 minutes later my dad walked outside with a thin garbage bag pulled over his bare hand (he had at least 10 fewer tools with loooooong sticks than I used to dispose of the previous bird) muttering something under his breath that was probably a curse to the heavens for only giving him one son and then making that son a pansy. On a side note I stopped feeling guilty for this about 8 years ago when I realized that Micalyne was the son he never had when she almost beat me in an arm-wrestle despite being my little sister, 2 years younger and about 70 pounds lighter.
But gone are the days when children could safely run barefoot through the grass without worrying about a decaying beak slicing their toe open.
And yes, I am in my mid-20s, and I do still live with my parents.
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