Saturday, May 31, 2008

184. Hot Dawg!

If you're wondering how I prepare for major athletic competitions, fasten your seat belts:

My church men's group recently decided to piggy back on the Cub Scout's Pinewood Derby night. The track was already going to be set up, why not use it to our advantage? So the men decided to hold our own PW Derby. However, since we're all grown up, there's no reason we shouldn't be able to build better cars than the boys, right?

Well, no. Most of the cars were not much better than what the boys can put together. Except one:







I won't tell you how I did for speed (16th percentile), but I will say I brought home the best-in-show award. How did I come up with my design, you ask? Here's my inspiration. Now my son, the Juggernaut, is not the only "the Juggernaut" in the house.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

183. Weight up!

Recently, I discovered I had O+ (O positive) blood. I guess that means I’m a “the blood bag is half full” kind of guy.

Here’s my physical state: last night I rolled my ankle playing basketball. It wasn’t too bad, meaning I think I can hide it from my wife Limpy who's prone to worrying. If a slightly rolled ankle was my only injury, things would be fine, but I also broke, and tore the ligaments in, my left ring finger. And I just had my stitches removed. I hope bad things come in threes, because I’m done being torn up.

Anyway, Sunday my neighbor and I were talking over dinner and he was lamenting his weight and telling me he needed to lose a few pounds. I also am slightly chubby (see: lard-legs) and I was complaining about my weight also. So we formed a bet. Person who loses the highest percentage of body weight in the next three months gets a free round of golf paid for by the loser.

So today I passed up on doughnuts, hoping I could use self control to plummet down in the weight standings. Unfortunately, last night while no one was looking I consumed nearly 1000 calories in fruit snacks, Jelly Bellies, and bratwurst. So I ask: if you’re on a diet and no one is around to see you fall, does the cheesecake count, or does it not count. I propose the latter.

I’m going to win the challenge. If not for my willpower, it will be because I am mighty.

That is all.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

182. Martes Trece (13)

In Spain they don’t celebrate Friday the Thirteenth (13th) on Friday. Naturally, they celebrate it on Tuesday. Like you’re supposed to.

So today, in honor of Martes Trece (13), please do not:

• let a fan blow on the back of your neck
• go out while the moon is full
• cut your fingernails (good advice, no matter what day it is)
• shake hands in a group while two other people are already shaking hands (in other words, don’t form a cross with two handshakes)
• don’t wear yellow—especially yellow spandex (I added that last part myself)
• get married
• kill your pig

And remember to keep your child’s hair uncut until he or she learns to speak, or you may cut off some of their intelligence instead of just their hair.

Why Tuesday and not Friday? I don’t know, same reason the Spaniards speak with a lisp—probably a despotic king who also happened to be stupid somewhere back in time. All I know is that the movie series Friday the Thirteenth (13th) flopped horribly in Spain, but when they recalled the film and renamed it Tuesday the Thirteenth (13th) (Martes Trece (13) in Spanish), it was wildly successful. Go figure.

Also in this weekend’s news was my horrible attempt at becoming an amputee. I don’t want to get into details, but let’s just say my tendons are all intact, but they almost stared death in the face. I wish the story was kinda cool, but it involved a screaming kid, a sunburn and a can of corn, so you can make your own conclusions...

Thursday, May 01, 2008

181. I Hate Performing CPR, But...

Today I witnessed a near automotive accident on my way to work. Someone who wasn't paying attention almost plastered himself against a moving van as everyone was stopping in traffic.

Car accidents are cool. Provided no one is hurt, they can be quite entertaining. How else do you explain crash-up derbies? Anyway, I found myself hoping the inattentive driver would stay inattentive just long enough to have a non-life-threatening collision so I could Call 911 and shout:


MAYDAY! MAYDAY!

Somehow this idea seemed good at the time, but in retrospect, maybe it wouldn't have been so amusing, not to the dispatcher anyway. Case in point: just four (4) weeks ago my whole carpool witnessed the same type of accident on the same part of the freeway at the same time of day. It was like pre-ja-vu©. If I had the May Day joke locked and loaded then, it would have been just stupid.

Here's what happened, a mere boy was driving along in his mom's Hyundai, minding his own business, when a traffic jam came out of nowhere and slammed into the front of his car. I stopped my car fully prepared to have to administer life-saving first aid. The Hyundai driver hit a Nissan Pathfinder hard enough that the Nissan impacted the next car with enough force to activate the airbags in the Nissan. It takes a lot of speed to create the force necessary for a Hyundai to do that to a Nissan Pathfinder.

PSA: Don't get in an accident.

The odd thing about the accident is that the Highway Patrolman took my information so he could call me as a witness, but he never called. Maybe I'm not the witness he was looking for. Maybe it was an open and shut case. Maybe the officer reads my blog and thought better of relying on me for anything. Maybe I was too eager. I should have been more vulnerable-looking. Maybe I came on too strong. Whatever it was, officer, you can't tell me you'll call me and then let me wait by the phone for four (4) weeks. PIG! Just pick up the phone already! At least tell me where we went wrong. That's not too much, is it?

Anyway, I did call 911 that day, but it wasn't May Day, so I couldn't use my joke. Personally I'm hoping to get to use my line one day, but not for me, for someone else. If I ever have to use it for myself, chances are no one will believe me because of this post.

Monday, April 28, 2008

180. Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

Recently a couple of hurtful comments from insensitive people have made me wonder what it is about me that makes me look fat. Is it my gigantic, monster-sized cheeks that make my face jiggle while I run? Is it the seventeen-and-a-half-inch (17 1/2") neck? Is it the plumber's crack? To elaborate:

While my wife Limpy and I were on our cruise two (2) weeks ago, we had the opportunity to wander around Paradise Island and Atlantis Resort in Nassau, Bahamas. Shortly after launching the ferry out to the island, the boat operator climbed the short ladder to the roof, pointed at me, and said, "You...there...in the Mama Cass suit..." O.K. that's not what he said; it was more like, "You...there...in the blue, the boat is unbalanced and I need you to move to the left side. Hurry mon! it's windy today."

So I moved. Instead of sitting next to my beautiful wife Limpy, I got to sit next to the creepy Euro in '80s-style weightlifter pants. No problem, I was the largest person on deck, so naturally I made a good candidate to help balance the boat, right? He was just looking for one person, not necessarily a fat one, right? I'm not so sure, to wit:

Four days later, my friend's four-year-old (4 yr. old) daughter sat next to my wife Limpy in church that week. When I sat on the bench on the other side of my wife Limpy, the bench made a slight creaking sound as my bulk rested delicately on the bottom cushion. She looked up at my wife Limpy and said, "Stupidramblings is BIG; he could break everything."

Now, I'm not one to publicly denounce pre-schoolers on the interweb, but I have to admit I found her comment quite defamatory. She probably stayed awake a few nights that week trying to find a way to hurt my feelings. She probably already posted how fat I am on her MySpace too.

If you're reading right now, my friend's four-year-old (4 yr. old) daughter, I pronounce you INSENSITIVE. Let it be known to all that your words are slanderous!

Thursday, April 24, 2008

179. Achin' for a Breakin'

My wife Limpy and I just returned from a two week trip to Miami and a Cruise to the Bahamas, and boy are my arms tired! Meet me halfway on some of this junk!

But seriously folks, remember to tip your server! Here’s a tip: don’t eat at the buffet, I’m one of the cooks. Ha!

Wow I could be a comedian on a cruise ship, because I hear the only requirement is to talk loud and say “But seriously foks…” every four or five sentences. As you may have deduced from my opening monologue, we just got back from Miami and the Bahamas.

Highlights:

  • The cruise was 4 (four) nights and I only got seasick for 3 (three) of them.
  • We got to spend quality time with old friends Mike and Tracy, motto: I’m a molecular astrophysical biotechnology scientologist or something smart, move over Steven Hawking (he explained it to me in 7th-(seventh)-grade terms, but I was still mostly lost on account-a my weak mental facilities). (Another big thanks to them for hosting us!)
  • We went to the everglades, but saw no glades, just swamp. The gators were out, vis-à-vis the photo, and I squeezed a couple of them; alas no Gatorade.
  • The South Beach diet is a hoax. The locals at
    South Beach look just like the rest of us (see: America).
  • The food in Miami is very, very tasty. Not only do Mike and Tracy cook well, someone decided the Miami area was eligible to import good food from other countries, so we pretty much bought whatever we can’t find in Utah.
  • A slightly damp, clean sock wrapped around a food item, which is then placed inside the freezer overnight, and then wrapped in a plastic bag inside a few layers of cotton T-shirts is a good way to get perishable food onto a plane and have it stay fresh for 9 (nine) or 11 (eleven) hours.
  • Shuffleboard is for suckers.
  • Sawfish are just sharks, but don’t tell them that; they’re a sensitive lot.
  • Kids don’t miss their parents, the parents are the ones who miss the kids and then project their emotions onto the kids. Don’t personify babies, I say; they’ll do fine wherever you send them.
  • My wife Limpy took a fantastic photo of some lily pads in a park in southern Miami.
  • It’s not as fun anymore to play the trick where you cut off people’s heads when you take a picture for them (see: digital cameras).
  • Cruise ship bedrooms are the size of music boxes, which is fine unless you want to sleep, relax, or sneeze, as these activities are too “big” for the rooms.
  • Some people say it's excessive to gain 12 pounds in 4 days. I say, "sounds like April."
  • Getting a room near the back of the ship doesn’t ensure you’ll be the guy who falls from the rear railing and hits his head on the propeller if the ship goes Titanic.
  • If I had a nickel for every time someone said “hey mon” who wasn’t from the Caribbean, I’d be a very wealthy person
  • Tourists are suckers. How else do you explain $6 (six dollar) water and pay toilets?
  • The following sentence is cute if it comes from a 4-(four)-year-old, however, I imagine it wouldn’t be so cute if it came from your spouse: “Stupidramblings, you’re real big. You could break everything."

Thanks folks, I’ll be here all week.

Friday, April 04, 2008

178. First Mate, First Karma

So last night I was watching the boys in the living room. The Juggernaut (4 months) was lying on the couch enjoying his Juggernaut-ness, and the First Mate (20 months) was playing with his toys and books below me on the floor. I was dozing off to a The Office marathon on NBC--all was well.

Until in my ether-like slumber I heard the faint sound of a spanking coming on. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, I beheld that the First Mate had climbed onto the couch and was standing over the Juggernaut, straddling him and jumping up and down, letting his butt rest not-so-gently on the Juggernaut's chest. I mean, I've seen him do it with a teddy bear, but not his brother, and not in front of me.

The Juggernaut was a stalwart little fella, not so much because he's tough, but because he's keeping a mental list of offenses and is plotting his revenge. The First Mate wasn't too happy when he found he'd been caught. Mainly because I wasn't happy.

Then, in a colossal twist of karmic force, last night at approximately 1:35.06 MDT I heard a thud from the ceiling followed by a baleful cry. I ran upstairs as quickly as my drowsed state allowed for to find the First Mate on the floor crying. He fell out of bed. He's been in a real bed for 3 months now, but did not fall out until the day he was jumping on his brother.

Karma, how I've longed for thy subtle touch.