July 30, 2008
Am I supposed to capitalize the words 'Shark' and 'Week'? Probably not. But am I gonna? Definitely. You see, at our home, we take Shark Week very seriously. Even before this week begins, Jeremy and I carve out time between our taking over the world and his plans for brewing gasoline in mason jars in our garage to reevaluate our TIVO goals for the week. It's probably the most highly organized anyone will ever see my husband.
It goes down like this. Jeremy will scan through all the shark programs on The Discovery Channel, categorize them and assign his own ranking to them. He likes to get a smattering, if you will, of different programing. He wants a variety of shark-centric programming to fill up our recording space. My husband, he's all about variety, folks. I often heard him say, "If you've seen more than two shark bite programs in a row, you've seen too many."
He then summons me into the room and reviews/defends his choices. He takes this activity so seriously. I can't think of a single time when I've objected to any of his decisions about Shark Week, but for his sake, I just play along like it's imperative that we reach a common goal.
I just checked the TIVO and so far we've recorded the following:
Shark Attack Stories
Surviving The Bite
Day of The Shark
Top Five Eaten Alive*
*Mental Note: I'm not entirely certain the last program scheduled to record has anything to do with sharks. I need to look into that one a little closer.
July 28, 2008
Jeremy: Yeah, it's the weirdest thing. The one side is fine, but the other end is miserable. Only hot air comes out.
[pause for phone call recipient to respond]
Jeremy: (laughing) Oh, sure. My wife's not pleased. Can you help me?
[pause for phone call recipient to respond]
Jeremy: Thursday should be fine. I'll be up and in really fast so hopefully you can get a closer look. I'd like you to really poke around in there, you know, feel around.
After this phone conversation ended, Jeremy looked over at me. I KNOW I had a horrified look on my face. It was, however, not even close to the expression on the face of the poor woman who had heard the one sided conversation while sitting next to us trying to eat her Chick'Filet meal.
What is Jeremy talking about?:
[a] His very personal bodily functions.
[b] His truck.
[c] Our small home network connection.
[d] Henry and his not so personal bodily functions.
I just so happen to know the answer. I will not reveal it though. That is why this post will remain a mystery.
July 27, 2008
"Oh, Jennifer," she said as she brushed her hand in my face. She then nervously laughed a little bit. I think she was silently wondering to herself if I was serious about this. I totally was. She must have wisened up to me because at the end of Mama Mia, she told me that she would go bra shopping alone. Drats.
Let me take you back to before the movie started. We had a little mix up with the theaters. Our tickets showed that we would be in theater 14. But once we got to the doors, we noticed The X-Files was sheduled to show there. A group of us Mama Mia-ers gathered outside theater 14's doors. As I surveyed the small crowd I could see that all twelve of us, were above the age of 55 with the exception of me, a teenager and the five week infant she brought along to the movie. I KNOW. What's the teenager doing there, right?
It felt like the most uncomfortable forty seconds in my life as the group of us stood around and wondered to each other out loud, "Should we just go in? Do you think the candy people would know anything about this mix up?"
I had just seen The Dark Knight the day before and I had learned from that movie that every situation calls for a hero and sometimes an unlikely one. I was just trying to recall verbatim the whole speech that Christian Bale had worked up about this very topic because it seemed oddly appropriate for this very situation. Just when I was going to start launching into my 'unlikely hero speech' something overcame me and I suddenly stepped forward and said very slowly, very deliberately, "I will get to the bottom of this."
It was nothing profound by any means, but just how long were we all going to stand around and look at each other shrugging our shoulders? Also, just how long was that infant going to make it through the movie?
With that, I was off. I scurried up the hall, past the candy people who apparently were all busy trying to breaking a $20. I then walked confidently up the ADA ramp to the gangly teenage ticket usher named Jaren who probably got a ride to his theater job from his Mom. I briefly explained our situation to Jaren. He looked at me like I had worms crawling out of my ears. I had to use props and hand gestures to gain his understanding. But after my game of charades was over this kid gave me the answer I needed.
I then turned around to meet the other eleven movie goers anxiously awaiting the verdict at the bottom of the ramp. One of them spotted me coming and pointed in my direction and exclaimed, "Here she comes!"
It suddenly dawned on me the power I held in my hands. These people were all waiting on me. I drank it in and shortened my stride a little to savor the anticipation a little more. I concentrated really hard on keeping my best poker face as to not let on either way what the answer might be. At the end of my promenade, I proudly walked up to those ten strangers and my Mom and said a little too dramatically, "Come on folks, we're in theater 8."
I would like to say that's where the story ends. It's such a nice tale. But no. In a panic that theater 8 might only have a dozen seats my dear Mother thrust me forward and said in an urgent voice, "You go on without me! Get us good seats. RUN!"
Also in the 'I would like to say' category, my Mother did the loudest girl inhale when the preview for The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2: Electric Bugaloo flashed on the screen but passed harsh judgement on the High School Musical 3 trailer. Eck. Who would see HSM3 anyway? (Seriously, Julee, call me. We'll make plans.)
July 25, 2008
Here’s Buckner. He’s trying to buy a house.
He and his wife have been utilizing the services of a part-time Real Estate Agent who just so happens to be a friend. However, things just aren't working out for the Buckners because the part-time real estate agent takes his part-time status very seriously.
Scott asked my advice the other day on how he could gently let his friend/agent down easy while still letting him know that he is a little disappointed. I told him that I’d be more than happy to help him find an easy way of letting his friend go by lending him some wisdom that I’ve learned from breakups in my past. (In the remainder of this post, the word ‘agent’ shall represent the person who is no longer the object of affection.)
1. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve heard this before. Turns out, it IS you and not them. However, I’ve used this excuse myself and really believed the words coming out of my mouth just to discover weeks later that it WAS them. If someone ever tells you this it means they are too lazy to come up with excuse.
2. The Friend Zone. I like you (agent) better as a friend. This wouldn’t work with Scott’s situation. The agent already is his friend.
3. Double Timing. Just show up with another agent. This method has proven highly successful on me. Some people call this cheating. I’m some people. It’s a clear indicator that you’ve moved on. I’ve had a few agents end relationships with me this way. If Bucker chooses this escape route, he will have to do one of two things when confronted; 1) Deny what the agent is seeing with his very eyes and tell the agent that the other agent is just a friend, or 2) Ignore his agent and hope he goes away. This is probably the most uncomfortable of all the break up techniques.
4. The Freeze Out. This is the method of choice for a lot of people looking to loose their agent. Simply put, Scott should just start putting his agent down, stop returning his agent’s calls and make life pretty miserable for him. This will force the agent to break up with Buckner, thus, letting him off the hook for being the instigator of the break up. Caution: this technique will take longer, sometimes up to years to execute. It will often lead to scarring the agent with self esteem and trust issues, but in the end, you DO get the break up without having to say the words “break” and “up” together in the same sentence. However, the sad break up story DOES go to the agent and they will use this mojo to attract other ‘prospective buyers’.
5. Witness Protection Program. Scott could tell his agent that he’s been living a secret life and protected by the witness protection program. His cover has been compromised and he has to move on. He can’t tell the agent where he’s moving on to due to security reasons. This honestly happened to the father of a friend of mine. He bought the story and was heartbroken as he told us this whole drawn out saga. Even as a ninth grader, when I heard this scenario, I was thinking to myself, ‘Dude, you got scammed. Big time.”
In the end, Scott opted to not take ANY of my advice as to how to cut ties with his agent. As of press time, Scott had decided to pass a note to his agent letting him know that he wanted to break up and that he would no longer be his BREAF (Best Real Estate Agent Forever).
July 24, 2008
Here's Reesie wishing you all a Happy Pioneer Day from Utah!
July 23, 2008
Reesie spend some time with her pants on her head.
Henry spent a lot of time wading in the river near our camp site.
Reesie spent a lot of time watching him.
I spent some time teaching Henry how to smile.
No, no, no. That's exactly the opposite of smiling.
There you go. Much better.
Perfect. He's a quick study.
Uh, oh. Looks like Dad's forgotten how. Now, that's just sad. Try again.
Et tu, Reesie?
Aw, she's working on it.
And now? Well, now she's just workin' it.
After we sat around and just smiled at each other for a few hours, our cheeks were really starting to hurt. Someone suggested we go on a hike. I think it was the couple camping next to us. They wanted us and our dogs to get the he-- out of the camp ground area.
This couple were older yuppies who apparently thought that children, dogs, and everyone else camping should be seen and not heard. We're pretty sure they didn't like Henry riding his power wheels in our camp spot, nor did they care for the loud children camping in the spot just adjacent to us. They didn't like motorcycles, trucks or cars circling the campground to look for open sites either. I think the campground host must have told them to quit their complaining and moved them to a new spot...RIGHT NEXT TO THE OUTHOUSE. Take that, elderly yuppies.
For the record, their two dogs charged another person while we were camping. These dogs were small enough to kick so they weren't too menacing. Also in the 'for the record' category, since the campground host gave us the green light on Henry's four wheeler riding and everyone else around us thought it was an awesome toy, once the elderly yuppies moved RIGHT NEXT TO THE OUTHOUSE I took it upon myself to guide Henry on several, SEVERAL trips up and down the campground road, passing them and waving to them each time.
See, I'm nice. I waved at them, didn't I?
Take some deep breaths, Jen. Serenity now. Ahh. Here's Hank and the dogs on our hike to Fehr Lake.
Henry incurred a scrape on the hike. It was so important to him that I document his owie. It was also important that everyone that came within 50 yards of us know it too. He was so proud of it. I told him that chicks dig scars.
This is what I look like whilst hiking.
This is what Reesie looks like hiking.
This is what she looks like grabbing for the camera.
The pups decided they would go for a swim.
See Batty dog wet.
See Maxie dog wet.
See Henry sit by Lake.
See Henry hike out of lake trail.
Then it was back to our camp site and down to the river. Henry thought he'd throw some rocks. As you can tell from his rock selection, he's a little ambitious for his own good.
Then Henry showed us how dirty his hands had become after two days of wilderness living.
Reesie shows off a cleaner version of hands.
Because Henry was so filthy, we thought it would be nice to hose him down to get him clean. Instead, we spread canned cheese lines along his legs and let Bat lick him.
Then we retired to bed where Henry and I played and told stories under the covers until Dad told us to knock it off or we would both be grounded.
Whatever there, Dad. Remember the squirrel?
Didn't get enough of us camping? To see all the pictures of our latest wilderness event click here.
I couldn't find an attractive way to wear my bandana. This is nice enough, but it doesn't really do it for me.
Uh, no. Sideshow Bob anyone?
Aw, come on. Now I look like Carrot Top before he got on the juice.
What's a girl to do? There's got to SOME way to wear this bandana thing in a cute way.
Behold. I finally found it.
July 22, 2008
Here's Jeremy. You should all know him by now.
Here's Jeremy demonstrating what his fire will look like once it takes off. I can't be sure, but he may be using Navy SEAL signals here.
Here's the awesome fire he built. (with gasoline and two matches)
No, wait...here it is.
Here's Jeremy explaining to me what an awesome Survivor Man he would make because he can keep his family warm (fire), provide for his family (he and Reesie caught two fish while Henry and I napped) and because he uses pine needles to pick his teeth.
July 21, 2008
Witness the happy Super Hero in the making.
Being a Super Hero doesn't just automatically happen like they show it in the movies. It takes preparation, planning and the knowledge of how to work velcro.
But every Super Hero just makes the best of it. Totally. Pulling. It. Off.
Ah, that's better. Now the Super Hero works on his web slingers to make sure they are in top condition.
Sometimes Super Heros break for awesomeness.
And to apply the head gear that comes with the new suit.
Head wear? Check. Flashy sandals? Check. Conspicuously placed rope that will definitely result in rope burn? Check.
Ladies and Gentlemen, you have just witnessed the emergence of a new Super Hero. Consider yourselves warned.