Monday, November 22, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
This is how I felt a couple of days ago when I passed my 10-year mark of returning from the mission. I know, it's really dramatic, and I'm still fairly young, but a decade is a significant fraction of one's life, no matter how old you get. I'm not quite ready to throw caution to the wind yet, but I can at least identify with the old bat above. At 100, or even once you hit your eighties, who cares? I'm sure I'll at least eat all the bacon I want, if not break out the hard liquor.
But back to the subject at hand. I've been back in the States for a decade. I'm not quite sure what to make of that. Every October 25 stands out as another anniversary in my life that I always take notice of, maybe because it's exactly two months after my birthday. I don't know if that's normal. But this year I'm especially reflective. I've done great for myself in the family department, and own a growing business in an industry I love. But all the same, I feel the need to check myself. I kind of feel like 21-year-old Aaron who was ready to conquer the world has morphed into a cynic with ongoing hot and cold faith issues. I'd like to get some of that youthful vigor and idealism back. I remember the drive and enthusiasm I had for the first two or three years home, but I don't know how to recapture it. I feel like I've become too well acquainted with the world and there's no way of really ever getting back to my innocence, because I've seen too much. And I know the goal in life is to grow and learn, even the hard lessons, but sometimes I wonder how some people are able to be so positive. I used to think overly happy people were obnoxious, but I've come to admire people who do that in the face of the same things I encounter in my own life.
Anyway, that's enough of that. I actually am largely happy with life. I have some really great things going for me. I just wanted to get some of that out. No one commented on my previous post, so I punished you by not writing for a month. But also, no one complained that I was gone, so if you're reading, go flog yourself a few times. Best of everything to you until next time.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Okay, I'm still working up to doing the blog weekly. In case you were wondering, we're doing well here, healthy and happy. The baby is getting cuter. When he gets upset, he has a face he makes that, when paired with his wrinkly brow, makes him look like Benjamin Button, but all in all, he's quite fetching. I am a father of three, and so I know there is no such thing as an attractive newborn, and have seen no evidence to the contrary. At any rate, on Sunday the little feller will be a month old, so time moves on as rapidly as ever. We (especially Amy) are eager for him to find a schedule he likes and stick to it.
The following is from a comedian named Bengt (pronounced Bent) Washburn. I went to see him at a live show last month in Logan. I wouldn't call his stuff offensive, but it's not for everybody either. He's no longer an active Mormon, and lives in Germany with his Irish Catholic, smoker, Air Force wife (which he also riffs on heavily in his standup), but is not unfriendly to the Church in his act. And some of his observations, especially about the missionary days, made me laugh until my gut hurt. And I'm not someone who laughs out loud all that much. Those who know me best would probably tell you I usually just smirk at my own cleverness (lies!) and chortle a bit. It sure seems true that the freaks are most likely to let Mormons into their house. I personally entered the homes of weirdos you couldn't even make up. Anyway, if you like this, there's plenty more on YouTube. Hope you enjoy.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Looking not-so-happy to be here, just a few minutes after getting squeezed out. Those lips couldn't get any poutier.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Those of you who know me well know that I love British humor (I guess I should spell it humour). From Monty Python to Spinal Tap to Jeeves and Wooster to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to Hugh Grant to Ricky Gervais, I have great appreciation for the comedy brought west from our friends across the pond. In recent years, I have come to love Nick Frost and Simon Pegg, the creators of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. I just stumbled across a couple of Frost's snippets on YouTube that I laughed my butt off at. Women will probably appreciate the Man Cold even better. Who knew that the wussiness of men was so universal?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Anyway, I've been no stranger to bizarre injuries in my life. My all-time favorite was when I was a missionary in Cape Verde (a small island country in West Africa), and hurriedly got out of the shower when I heard a ruckus which I knew could only mean the guys were in hot pursuit of a mouse. As I did so, I scraped my leg against the jagged edge of a bidet (a porcelain plumbing fixture, popular in Europe, that is situated next to the toilet, with a nozzle that squirts your unmentionables as an alternative to toilet paper). I bled profusely and allowed one of my missionary cohorts who was semi-trained in first aid to stitch me up rather than going to the local hospital where I figured they'd probably amputate my leg with a rusty saw. I still have the scar, but came out of it much better than the mouse, who was literally torn in half when my fat, hairy companion tried to stomp him and lost his footing, sliding across the floor with the upper body under his foot. Now that I think about it, that was a pretty colorful day, and that was just the lunch break. Anyway, I'd love to hear any stories you may have of bizarre injuries. I'm tempted to prematurely declare Julia Munns Burdych the winner, since I know about one particular owwie that you couldn't even make up, but I'll wait a few days and see if anyone can top it. Okay, go!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Anyway, I now give the floor to you. Be sure to invite your friends!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
I've known this day was coming for a good six months. Tomorrow I start the three-week HCG diet. Most of my marriage I've been around 225 pounds, but I gained a bit whilst in New York last summer, and a couple of weeks ago, I weighed in at 240. Then I drank soda almost every day last week and ate a ton of sugar, and got all the way up to 243, and 27 percent body fat. For my height and age, that is starting to get into some bad territory. Not orca territory, but I've seen the writing on the wall. The HCG diet has you on 500 calories a day for three weeks, and 500 very specific calories at that, and taking HCG and a couple of other supplements every day to help control appetite and maximize results. I was able to get a nutritionist on trade, and she swears that you don't feel hunger if you are consistent in taking the supplements and that it is much easier to keep the weight off by using her services instead of trying to do it by yourself. But I'm kind of eager to test my mental toughness. I might not feel that way in 24 hours, but I have every intention of succeeding, and plan to keep the world in the loop via the blog. Before long, I may be the runt of the family. Vance is pretty hooked on Mountain Dew and is all domestic, while Gina has gotten hooked on fried lutefisk. Anyway, tomorrow is Armageddon, hence the choice of music. I am sticking with this thing no matter what.
I did, however, abort the moustache. I let it grow for five days and it was getting fairly noticeable. The thought of being seen by clients and prospects was too much for me to take. If I were a computer programmer, I would do this, and get away with it. Computer programmers and web designers are supposed to look like slobs. I don't know how to trim facial hair that is that long, so it hurt like a bitch to take off. I guess that's what I get.
Lastly, some of you have mentioned that I failed to crown a winner for the Embarrassment Olympics. The consensus, between Amy and I, at least, was that Julia's moment was the most spectacular. I was totally in that moment and have played it over and over in my mind to cheer myself up, partly because I have a brother-sister relationship to Julia and take joy in her humiliation, and partly because she is kinda special, so she deserves a prize. About that, though, after ordering a box full of the Scarface keychains, I found out that virtually every line has one or more F-bombs. I traded for them using the Trading Floor my company's software provides, and figured there would be a "Say hello to my little friend," and a "Say goodnight to the bad guy," among others. Nope, it's basically eight very vulgar phrases. So we may need to come up with a replacement prize. If I don't find a good trinket, perhaps we can host your family for dinner at my house (after my three weeks are up). Anyway, I've gotta figure it out. Congratulations, Julia, on being super-clumsy to the point that people openly wonder if you are retarded. Anyway, until next time, I bid you toodles...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Unfortunately, virtually nobody appreciates a good moustache any more, and there are very few who can pull it off aside from cops and former porn stars. It makes me wish I had lived through more than four months of the seventies. I mean, everyone had one then. It was sexy; so help me God, it was sexy! And it's the only full-length facial hair I can pull off without looking like Joe Dirt. So here is my ode to the fashionable look of yesteryear and its many varieties.
Okay, the handlebar. It only works for cowboys and bikers, but this guy is bringing sexy back.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
I really dig Jeff Bridges. And I love authentic country music (not to be confused with most of the crap that comes out of Nashville), and Western movies and Old West lore. It just so happens that Bridges has two roles within a year of each other with a Western theme (the next one being a remake of True Grit). Crazy Heart has been the only movie on my radar for quite some time. I did eventually cave to the Avatar hype, and found the hullabaloo maddeningly but predictably overdone. And today, for the second President's Day in a row, I took off a few hours early for a matinee. It's not exactly flying under the radar, since Bridges is the favorite to win the Oscar for Best Actor next month, so I won't try to pretend I discovered it like Oprah, and I won't be too long-winded, but I will recommend it, and provide you with some music from Ryan Bingham, who wrote most of the film's music (which was sadly unavailable on Playlist; Google The Weary Kind or watch the Crazy Heart trailer to hear the theme song), and who I've been familiar thanks to my cowboy friend Kyle. At any rate, I wasn't sure how to feel about the film's ending at first, since it's not the standard predictable neat finish, but after marinating a little, I think it was perfect. At any rate, I hope everyone got plenty of nookie over the Valentine's weekend. Have a great short workweek, and see you soon with a survey I have been putting together. Invite your friends! Ciao.
P.S. Just one interesting side note. Colin Farrell plays a country singer in Crazy Heart. And amazingly, he pulls off not only the accent, but the singing. So, major props to our favorite drunken Irish lout.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Happy Martin Luther King Day! Whether you're working today or not, this is just a little piece of humor for anyone who doesn't mind humor involving the mastermind of the Holocaust, or poking fun at Mormon culture. I found it funny and hope you do too. On the commentary following the original post on YouTube, everybody weighs in on why it's offensive and I mean everybody. You've got the bitter ex-Mormons, super-sensitive politically correct blowhards who think that Adolf should never be made light of, and the extremely pious LDS who find it a horrible tragedy that anyone could find humor in someone not getting 100 percent on hometeaching. Don't be shy about expressing your own opinions. Anyway, have a great day, wherever you are.