I'm a fast talkin' hell raisin' son of a bitch

Immediately following my sister's graduation ceremony, my brother and I were talking about what a good job she did with her valedictorian speech. He couldn't remember what he said in his, and I couldn't remember what I said in mine, but we know that neither of them were as good as hers.

Thinking back on it though, I'm pretty sure mine went something like this:

Hey there buckaroo and buckaroo-ettes, as we sit here on this graduation day many of us have come to the realization that the days of roping miniature rocking-horse type bulls in the halls are over. It's time for the big rodeo of life. Many of us don't know what the future holds, but it's time to cowboy up, take that bitch by the horns and ride that sucker for all she's worth. We're talkin' the full 8 seconds baby. Now, go out there and git 'er done. Yeeeeee haaaaawwww!!!


At least that's what it looks like I'm saying in this picture*:

*I don't know who took this picture, I'm pretty sure it was my friend's mom, but I love how they didn't bother to try and move a few inches to the side in order to miss the back of someone's head.

Once you're outside you won't want to hide anymore

My youngest sister graduated from high school on Friday. I took my kids to the ceremony so that they could see her give her valedictorian speech, hoping that it might inspire them to do well in school. My sister is someone who I would hope my kids would strive to be like. However, since kids tend to be clueless about these sorts of "life lessons" my motive was probably lost on them. I'm still glad we went.

Here's my sister giving her speech. She did a really good job. Much better than what my brother and I did for ours (more on this later).

Not to take anything away from my sister and what she's accomplished (graduation, valedictorian, 4 year college scholarship), but I think the best parts of the weekend came after her graduation ceremony. Notably, the kiddie trike olympics that were held in my parents' driveway later that evening:

Or Sunday, when I took my kids to Goblin Valley. First, we went on a short hike through a slot canyon just outside the park. The actual hike through Little Wild Horse Canyon is a nine mile loop. Since we didn't have a lot of time (or water) we only hiked about the first mile, then turned around. We hiked the entire thing about seven years ago when my oldest kids were still young, but they didn't remember much about it so I think it was good that we went again. They certainly seemed to think it was cool. As you can see, it's a great place to go to find out whether or not you're claustrophobic.

On the way back my youngest got tired of walking.

Him: Dad, can I have a piggy back ride?

Me: Yeah, but why do you have to be so lazy all the time?

Him: Because I love it.

After we got back to the car we drove to Goblin Valley and hiked among the rock formations.

It had already been a pretty long day at that point, plus we had a long drive back to my parents' house, so we didn't stay there too long. After about an hour I told the kids that we needed to start heading back to the car.

My youngest: Why? I'm happy here.

Obviously:

We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars

10 yr old: Dad, which way are we going?

Me: North.

10 yr old: Wait, I thought that way was north.

Me: No, that's east. But to be honest, we're really driving northeast.

4 yr old: No! We're going desert.

I must confess I like this mess I've made so far

Daughter: Dad, I don't know how much I weigh because . . .

Son: Because you broke the truck scales?

Daughter: No, I don't know how much I weigh because . . .

Son: Because you're too afraid to look?

Me: Don't worry kiddo, that's what brothers are for.

Daughter: I know, he's always this annoying.

Well I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed that they really didn't want us around

Last week we had our annual Valley of Fire campout. I'll spare you most of the details, but thought I'd give you the following examples of why the people I work with are hilarious.

Example 1
Guy 1: How long's it been since you last shaved?
Me: I don't know. Two or three days.
Guy 1: It looks like a pre-pubescent mustache on a kid.
Guy 2: He wishes!

Example 2
Guy 1: Look helicopters. I guess the strippers are finally here.
Me: I wish. Two helicopters full of strippers showing up would probably be the best thing that's ever happened in my life.
Guy 2: Yeah, it probably would.

Example 3
Or you get to hear exchanges such as this:
"I believe it."
"Yeah, but you're mormon. You'll believe anything."

Example 4
Or this:
I'm* gonna chili-whip your ass





*Happens to be one of the most 'proper' people I've ever met

Raise my glass 'cause either way I'm dead

Bartender: What can I get for you?

Me: Could I just get a cranberry juice?

Bartender: Sure, no problem.

Friend: Would you like some balls with that?

So, are you ready to go my lady?

There was a wedding at the hotel we stayed at on the first night of the workship. While we were sitting around the lobby talking, leering at babysitters and such, people kept coming in and out of the ballroom where the wedding was taking place.

I mentioned to one of my friends that it was very tempting to go in there to try and get some wedding cake. She encouraged me to do it, and had I been wearing something other than shorts I might have.

Me: But I can't go in there dressed like this. It'd be too obvious.
Her: I'll give you $50 if you go in there and get some wedding cake.
British Scientist: And I'll give you another $100 if you go get one of the bridesmaids.
Other Friend: Really! What more could you ask for? There's a wedding. There's alcohol. There are bridesmaids with nowhere else to go, and you've got a room upstairs. It'd be just like shooting fish in a barrel.

Tell them Albert Einstein and Copernicus were wrong

This past weekend was a pretty busy one for me. I didn't get a signal on my cell phone where I was, let alone have internet access, hence the lack of posts. My advisor hosted a workshop for the National Science Foundation, and we were coerced into doing things like running shuttles to and from the airport with the 'reward' being that we would get to listen in on the proceedings (I use the term loosely because when I explained that to one of the attendees, he told me that we needed to organize a grad student union).

The workshop itself was a brainstorming session of sorts. Twenty-six top researchers from around the world came together to try and define the future direction of our field. Needless to say, there was a lot of brainpower in the room. Oddly enough, this time I didn't feel as much of a mental midget as I did at the meetings I went to last year. That's not to say that I was anywhere near the level these guys are at, but maybe I'm making progress. Or maybe I'm just lying to you to make myself feel better.

One of the organizers of the workshop is a single mother. The only reason I'm bringing this up is because she arranged to bring her son and his babysitter along with her to the meeting. I talked to one of the attendees that knows her quite well and he said that the kid is probably the most well traveled seven year old on the planet (just to solidify that claim, she's taking him to Madagascar next summer - lucky kid!).

Anyway, after everything was done on the first day of the workshop, a group of us were sitting around talking in the hotel lobby. The babysitter was sitting across the room reading a book. She happened to be rather attractive, so I kept sneaking glances in her direction.

One of my friends noticed.

Her: I see you looking at that girl. Why don't you go talk to her?
Me: Because I'm just not going to.
Her: You should.
Me: She's reading a book and wants to be left alone.
Her: Look, she's not even reading her book, she's been on the same page for ten minutes. She's just looking around waiting for you to come over.
Me: Would you shut up?

A minute or so later:

Her: You should go talk to her.
Me: I thought I told you to shut up.
Her: Why won't you?
Me: Hi, my name's [Minnow], we obviously haven't met. Besides, I'm trying to be professional here.
Her: Well, if you're not going to talk to her then I will.
Me: Go for it.

At that point, a world renowned British scientist who had been listening to us turned around to see who we were talking about.

World Renowned British Scientist: Oh, you're talking about the babysitter. That's easy. Go for it!

I've hiked and hiked and wandered too, but I ain't seen any candy

I told one of my friends the reasons why I'd never be able to pull off pedophilia. Like most people, he thought it was funny because it's true. Yesterday he got this picture in an email and immediately thought of me. I'm flattered.

I don't know where the picture* originally came from, so I can't give credit where it's due, but it looks like something that would come from this site. At any rate, it made me laugh really hard.

The scary thing is, I'd probably take the chance.

I mean, hey, how many chances do have to get free** candy?




*but I totally need to get a van like that

**excluding Halloween

Viva Las Vegas!

The past two weeks I've been doing a lot of Vegas-ey type things. I've been on the Las Vegas Strip, a street which I normally avoid as much as possible, a total of 9 times. The most recent was for a friend's birthday.

My friend informed me that she had the whole day planned out. First, we were going to the Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay. Then we were going to ride the roller coaster at New York New York, followed by ice cream at the Bellagio while we watched the fountains.

This was my first trip to the Shark Reef, despite numerous opportunities to go in the past. I thought it was great, but I got a little frustrated by my camera's slow shutter speed. I tried taking about 100 pictures, but the only one that I thought came out nicely was this picture of a lionfish (the rest were blurry):



We finished that before dark, and decided that the roller coaster would be better once all the casinos had their lights turned on, so we went to the Bellagio first. We wanted to see the Conservatory because they always have it decorated nicely for each season, but they were in the middle of changing from a spring to a summer theme, so we didn't get to see any of it. The ice cream was good, and I saw one of the best fountains I've ever laid eyes on.

Of course, then we went outside to see the more famous fountains. You know, the ones that weren't running with chocolate, but were instead the regular lame water kind. We went outside at dusk, which was cool because I got to take these shots of the casino.











While we were waiting for the fountains, I had the following conversation with my friend:

Me: You know, we're going to have to make out as soon as the fountains start.
Her: And why is that?
Me: It's just what you're supposed to do.
Her: Funny, I've come to watch the fountains with other people, so why haven't I made out with any of them.
Me: That's because they haven't been showing you how to do it right.

She didn't fall for it.

We went back to the roller coaster ride, and I have to say it was much better than I expected it to be. We were in the front car, and I found myself getting a little shaky as we began our ascent. I'd definitely recommend it if you've never gone.

When I was a kid I saw a light flying high above the trees one night, thought it was an alien, turned out to be just God.

When I was sixteen years old I did a lot of stupid things. The kind of things that you read about on the Darwin Awards site. A friend of mine reminded me of one of those stories today, so I thought I'd share it here.

I grew up in a small town in rural Utah. Needless to say, there wasn't a whole lot to do for entertainment. Many nights consisted of dragging Main Street, and that was it. Sure, driving up and down a single street in the hopes of running into friends so you could talk to them in a parking lot is a pointless exercise, but it beat sitting around the house, so that's what we did.

One of the other problems with living in a small town (and part of why dragging Main was the thing to do) is that everything closes by six o'clock p.m. If we got in the mood for snacks, we'd have to drive to purchase them at the "busy" gas stations along the freeway exits. One evening, we got in such a mood, so a carload of us went to the north end of town to buy some sodas and candy bars. It just so happened that I was the last one to pay, so my friends did what any normal sixteen year olds would do in an attempt to be funny: They ran out to the car, got in, and tried to leave me there.

I finished paying, then ran out just in time to be able to jump up on their back bumper and grab onto the car, thus insuring that I would not be left behind. Of course, I was under the mistaken impression that they would stop the car and let me in once they realized I had caught them. Instead, they decided it would be funny to go the other way, and they took the dirt road that led to the city dump. By this time, the car was moving too fast for me to be able to jump off without receiving any bodily harm. Everyone knows how afraid I am of receiving bodily harm, so there I was, stuck standing on the rear bumper of a car traveling ~50 mph down a dirt road, unable to do anything about it.

About this time I looked ahead and saw that one of the Sherriff's deputies was parked ahead, so I did what I thought best given the circumstances. I squatted down on the bumper, foolishly hoping that somehow he wouldn't notice me there as we went speeding by.

He noticed.

Fortunately, I was able to get down off the bumper safely once the officer pulled us over. Unfortunately, we had some explaining to do.

Officer: Alright boys, where's the party at?

Us: What party?

Officer: I'm not stupid you know. You guys are about the fifth car I've seen heading out this way, now where's the party?

Us: Honestly, we don't know anything about a party. We were just fooling around and came out this way.

Officer: So you guys aren't on your way to get drunk?

Us: No. None of us even drink.

[He then checked our IDs and eyed us all suspiciously for a spell]

Officer: Ok, I believe you. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna treat this like a UFO. I saw somethin', and I don't know what it was, but if I see it again I'll know.

Then he let us go. No tickets. No calls to our parents. He just sent us on our way (making sure we were all inside the vehicle this time) then got back to trying to catch underage drinkers.

I just love that line he gave about the UFO. I'm willing to bet that he practiced it at home, and probably even bragged about it later back at the Sherriff's Office. Either that, or it's the line he gives everyone when he lets them off the hook for something. At any rate, it's a classic.

I think I thought I heard that you loved me

Crazy things are happening here in The Shallows. We're talking major life changes for me here. Yesterday I told you about how I became German, and now I think I've picked up a wife.

I went to the grocery store with a friend of mine to get some snacks while en route to a party. My friend didn't have any cash, so she wanted to pay for half the items with her card, but when we went through the checkout, I didn't say anything when the cashier rang everything up at once.

When she read us our total I looked at my friend and said, "Ha ha, I win."

I punched in the number for my savings club card and paid. When the cashier handed me the receipt she looked at us and said, "Thank you very much Mr. and Mrs. [Minnow]. You saved $3.98."

I need to look into whether or not this is a binding legal arrangement. This is Vegas after all, maybe our Vons cashier did have the power vested in her by the state of Nevada to legally pronounce us husband and wife.

I drove a tank, held a general's rank when the blitzkrieg raged and the bodies stank

I had a pretty eventful weekend. For one thing, I became German on Saturday. It was a lot easier to do than you'd think it would be. Here's how it all transpired:

A friend of a friend hosted a horseshoe tournament. Registration was required, and 22 teams signed up, with mine being the last of the bunch. I had tentative plans to go to San Diego for the weekend instead, but that fell through a few days beforehand, so I asked a friend if she'd play horseshoes with me. Despite it being such a big commitment, she said yes, and asked me if I could take care of registration, which included coming up with a team name.

Since I was given sole name choosing authority, I wanted something that she wouldn't normally agree to (I end sentences with prepositions. So what?). Also, since she's German, I wanted to go with a German name. I originally wanted to call ourselves Team Sauerkraut , but I didn't know how to spell it, so I opted for one of the only other German words I know: Affentittengeil (literal translation = ape tit groovy).

My dastardly plan worked splendidly because all day long people kept coming up to us and asking what our team name meant. Every time they did I'd turn to her and say, "Hey, tell them what our team name means." Then she'd have to explain what the word meant, but also that nobody in Germany ever uses it.

For the tournament, every time a new game was beginning the host would get on a microphone and call out the two teams that would be competing. Since he didn't know how to pronounce our team name, he simply called us "the Germans." By the end of the day, people would come up to me and ask what part of Germany I was from. I never thought gaining citizenship would be so easy.

Now that I'm German, I'm considering running for public office. Don't worry though, no matter how popular I become, or how powerful I get, I'll refuse to gas any major ethnic groups.

Mom leans down and says, "My sentiments exactly."

In case you live in a cave (in which case you probably don't have internet access, so this statement doesn't make any sense and should have been deleted), it's Mother's Day.

Pretty much all I have to do is exist in order for my mom to have a fabulous day, but I sent her a gift anyway.

I know that not everyone has the benefit of a mother's unconditional love which allows gift giving on Mother's Day to be optional. I also realize that not every child remembers when Mother's Day is, or has the money to purchase gifts. If any of you fall under this category, well friends, today's your lucky day! I've created a coupon that you can download and give to your mother at no cost to you.

Please note that your mother may use the coupon to call your brother if you are not, in fact, her favorite son. If such is the case, I would offer you my condolences, but being my mother's favorite son and all, I really don't know how you feel. I recommend you get a good therapist.

Foolin' myself into thinkin' I was livin'

Friend 1: [Minnow], if you changed your last name to Belafonte you'd get laid a lot more.

Friend 2: Or at all.

Touché!

Let's undress just like cross-eyed strangers

Me: Oh man, there was this girl at the grocery store the other day, you should have seen her. She was gorgeous.

Him: Yeah?

Me: Yeah. I kept passing her while I was working my way through the aisles, then she ended up standing behind me in line at the checkout. She was hot. I couldn't stop looking at her. Not in a way that was too obvious of course, but still.

Him: Did she have a ring?

Me: No. That's the first thing I checked. If I had any sac at all I would have asked her if she had a boyfriend. The problem is, how do you pull that kind of thing off?

Him: I've never done that.

Me: Neither have I.

Him: Did you even talk to her?

Me: Yeah, but just small talk. I wouldn't even know how to go from "This sure is a long line" to "Can I have your number?"

Him: Oh, that's easy. You just say, "Long line huh? You want to come over later and see my long dick?"

Funny, I don't remember telling him that I was actually using the mascara.

This happens all the time, it's detachable

I was watching the playoffs the other night with a friend, and another couple of friends decided they'd come join us. They rode together, yet one of them walked in alone. We asked him why the other one didn't come.

Friend 1: She'll be here shortly. She had to run next door to buy some mascara.

When she came in, my other friend asked her if she'd found it ok. She had, and she pulled it out of her purse to show us.

Friend 2: Let me see. Look [Minnow], it says right here it lengthens lashes. You should try putting some on your penis.

Me: I'll be right back. I need to go next door to make a purchase.

Her: Do you need it?

Me: Well, there's one way you can find out.

Her: Let's go.

Alas, she was only joking.

This long line of cars is trying to break free

A month or so ago a girl I know got two free tickets to see one of the shows on the Strip. She wasn't interested in using them so gave them to me. The last day to use the tickets was last week, so even though it was late on a weeknight, I went to it with another friend of mine.

The show was about what we expected it to be, not great, but entertaining. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to spend money on it though. It was about 11 o' clock when we got out, so as we were pulling out of the parking garage I asked my friend if he wanted to drive down the Strip. After all, where else do you get to see unsightly tourist attractions such as this:

Him: We might as well. It's late, and it's a Monday, so traffic shouldn't be too bad.

So we drove home on the Strip. During the drive we were stopped at a light when my friend made an announcement.

Him: Not it on the fat chicks walking over there.
Me: Damn you. That's not fair, I'm watching the light.
Him: Tell it to the fat chicks when you're taking them home.

I really need to sharpen my skills at that game. He gets me all the time.

We continued the drive, which turned out to have been a horrible idea. It seems that we weren't the only ones with the idea that traffic would be light, because it wasn't. Of course, that was partly due to the fact that a few miles down the road, the southbound side of the Strip had been reduced to one lane. By the time we realized this we were pretty much locked in and couldn't get off on any of the side streets. We spent quite some time inching forward. After a while my friend said "Hey look! There's those fat chicks you've got dibs on."

He was right. It was the same girls.

All I have to say is that you know you're driving slow when fat girls are able to outpace you on foot.

Six out of ten, better luck next time

I just finished proctoring an exam. If you've never had the experience of proctoring an exam, let me just tell you that few things in this world are as boring as proctoring. Seriously. Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between proctoring or sliding matchsticks under my toenails I'd choose the matchsticks.

Anyway, the idea is to have as many people as possible walking around the room so that the students are well aware of the fact that they are being watched. That way they won't be as tempted to cheat. (Of course, those who are going to cheat probably do anyway, they just make sure they do it while none of the proctors are watching)

Luckily, there are plenty of attractive women on this campus, and I have to say, it's much easier to pass the time wandering around a silent room when there is plenty of eye candy. I probably spend about 1/4 of my time in there actually watching for cheaters, 1/4 staring off into space, 1/4 joking with other proctors, and 1/4 looking at cute girls.

Today while I was proctoring another guy caught me doing the latter. He walked up to me and whispered, "Lecher."

"Oh," I said, "is it that obvious?"

She said, "Suicide's easy. What happened to the revolution?"

[When we last saw our hero, he was being told that he shouldn't think about things such as suicide note etiquette - If you don't want to be bored to death, stop reading now]

The truth is, I have suicidal thoughts a lot. I'm not saying this as a cry for help, or because I want any sympathy, it's just a simple statement of fact, a part of who I am. I go through periods where I think about suicide several times a day. In fact, last week I was having them once or twice an hour the entire time I was awake, for the entire week. That's the worst it's been for a while, but even during my good periods I rarely make it an entire week without it crossing my mind.

Usually, the thoughts are just a flicker in the back of my mind about what it would feel like to do something so drastic, or how much of a mess it would leave and what it would look like. But that's it. Just a flicker, then they're gone. The only time I seriously entertained the idea was a few weeks after my ex-wife and I separated. It was a particularly rough time for me and I just wanted it to end.

Instead I went and got help.

I've been this way for almost as long as I can remember, or at least since fifth grade. I remember climbing the big tree in front of our house and thinking about what it would be like to dive headfirst onto the driveway. I concluded that it wouldn't feel very good. I'm guessing that it's not normal for a child to think about things like that, but I'm not really qualified to say what is normal and what isn't. All I know is what's normal for me, and having suicidal thoughts seems to fit that category. The odd thing is, for all the complaining I do, there's nothing about my life that's really all that bad. I had no reason to feel that way as a child, and I don't have any reason to feel that way now. I just do.

I debated for a long time whether I should write about this or not. Eventually I decided that I should. I see enough weird stuff that people type into Google that directs them to this blog, and maybe this could be something that allows someone to see that it's ok to have such thoughts. Just because you have them doesn't mean you have to act on them. No matter how dark things seem, they'll always get better. Always. It breaks my heart every time I go to Post Secret and see a card that says something along the lines of "By the time you get this card, I'll no longer be alive." I just wish I could reach out to those people and help them somehow. Make them see that things will get better. Just like my family and friends did for me when I was at my worst.

The whole wide world is at it again showing me how it feels good to bleed

A week or so ago I was with a friend while she was trying to find a birthday card to send her father. I did some other shopping (mostly for candy) while she was looking at cards, and then joined her at the card rack. Standing there, I saw a section that I hadn't ever noticed before. A section labeled Goodbye Cards. I picked one up, read it, and started smiling.

Her: What are you smiling at?
Me: Oh nothing. This card just made me think of something.
Her: What?
Me: I shouldn't say.
Her: Well you can't do that. Now that you've brought it up you have to tell me.
Me: Ok, but you asked. I was just thinking that it would be so much worse for someone's loved ones if they wrote their suicide note on a Hallmark card. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Her: That's bad, you shouldn't be thinking about stuff like that.

To be continued . . .

(if I feel like it)

Tied the knot that broke my fall

I tweaked my back playing basketball the other day and it's been sore ever since. Back pain is nothing new to me, in fact I experience it a little too regularly. If I was a smart man, I'd start doing exercises to strengthen my core. Then again, I never claimed to be a smart man.

(You should know that it was on a play where I blocked another guy's shot - if for no other reason than it makes me sound more cool than I really am and helps me feel better about my life)

While we were playing, one of the guys on the other team made a tough shot. I told him that it was the kind of shot that would have had the crowd chanting his name if we weren't playing in an empty gym.

As soon as I said that I realized something. One of the things I'd like to have happen before I die is to hear a crowd chanting my name. Once I said that to the guys I was playing with, my friend added, "and hopefully it's not at a public hanging."

Hopefully not, but that would technically fulfill the requirement and I could hang in peace.

Step aside, out the way, wipe that look off your face

The other day I went to the post office to send a package. I got one of the colorful padded envelopes that they have available for purchase, put the stuff I was mailing into it, and started filling out a matching address label.

As I was doing this, the lady standing ahead of me said, "Wow, I sure would like to be your friend."

Without looking up I replied, "Eh. It's overrated."

I know she was just trying to be nice, but when I'm standing in line anywhere in the ghetto I prefer to be left alone. I'm a jerk like that.

How can you know that you're right if you're not nervous anymore?

I told you about the student who makes up a new middle name for himself every week. I thought I'd show you another example of the other things he does that make me laugh. Here are a few drawings from one of his quizzes. He got 100% on it, but decided to fill in some of the empty space on the paper as well.

What can I say? I'm easily amused.








********************EDIT********************

Ok, so the scans didn't work as well as I'd hoped. Let me transcribe the things he wrote for each image.

1. The sun wearing moon shoes (IRONY)

2. [Minnow] writing things on the board (complete with the temperature control that juts out the middle of the chalkboard)

3. The most delicious bagel I ever had

4. Each test tube has something drawn underneath it, presumably to hold it up. In order: Little stick people, a pyramid, scaffolding, a pile of used playing cards, Hello Kitty, and a trampoline.

Lipstick and callous and fishnets and malice

My students have their lab final this week. After spending a few hours holding an open lab for them to come in and review the material, we had to make them leave so we could start setting up the exam. It normally takes a while to set up because we have to dissect specimens for each of the labs they've done since the midterm. This time it took us about two hours. When we finally got close to finishing, one of my friends decided that we needed to speed things up a little bit.

Her: That's the way it's going to be. If anyone doesn't like it, they can just kiss my ass.

Me: I don't like it.

She turned and walked across the room toward me.

Her: [Minnow], do you appreciate your scrotal sac?

Me: Yes, I do. In fact, I'm the only one who appreciates my scrotal sac right now.

You're looking tired, like you tried to kill yourself again, you'll probably be strung out tonight

I was walking down the hall the other day when a flyer on one of the bulletin boards caught my eye. It was advertising 'Suicide Prevention Movie Night' and a showing of Jumping off Bridges, a movie about the stigma reduction of suicide. The movie was hosted by the university's women's center.

My advisor saw me reading it and said, "Boy, that looks like a good time, huh?"

Another guy passed and said, "You should go there. You could probably find some easy chicks."

I answered, "Well, that might not be a bad idea. There's bound to be at least a few with low enough self esteem."

I know I don't know you and you're probably not what you seem, but I'd sure like to find out so why don't you climb down off that movie screen?

Another year has gone by, and another Coachella music festival has come and gone without me being in attendance. I have nobody to blame but myself this year, as I had ample opportunity to go. A few of my friends went, and I was simply too much of a tightwad to buy a ticket and go with them.

I spoke to one of my friends this morning after he got back. He said it was a good time, and he got to see and hear a lot of good music. He also told me that I missed out.

Him: "You missed out BIG time."
Me: "Why's that?"
Him: "Well, there was a rumor that this was going to be happening, but none of us really believed it, but you know the movie Lost in Translation? The song that plays at the end of that is by The Jesus and Mary Chain. Anyway, people were saying that Scarlett Johansson was going to come out and sing a duet with them, and she did! I took pictures."

It's weird how my friend talks in links like that, I know! I keep trying to get him to quit doing it, but he won't.

Anyway, for those of you who may not know, Scarlett Johansson is on my list. You know the list. But just in case you don't know the list, she's one of my celebrity crushes. No matter what my relationship status is, if given the opportunity, I get to sleep with her with no repercussions whatsoever.

I'm sorry that I missed seeing her perform, especially in the cute little sundress she was wearing. But I have to disagree with my friend. I don't think I missed out BIG time. I only would have missed out BIG time if she'd been standing next to him in the crowd because then I would have missed out on a chance for some good old fashioned celebrity frotteurism.

I hope they cannot see I am the great destroyer

I have a student in one of my labs who has a pretty good sense of humor. He's very random, and is always writing extra things on his quizzes that make me laugh. The running theme for the semester is that he gives himself a "new" middle name on every quiz that he turns in.

Here are some examples of what he's come up with:
- Rockstar
- Infectious Mononucleosis
- Dodgeball
- Calvin Klein
- Forgot the answer to number 4
- Jetpack Sausages
- Hardcore to the Maximum Extreme
- Rescue Ranger
- Hello Kitty

After a few weeks, I decided start making up new middle names for myself for each quiz that I returned to him.

Here are some that I've given myself:
- Papa Smurf
- Supersonic Overdrive
- Big and Important
- I write with pink pen
- My Little Pony
- Blitzkrieg Raider
- Don't you know who I am?
- El Bandito
- I hate riding unicorns*

Maybe I can work one of those into my new alias if/when I ever come up with one.



*I really do hate riding unicorns. They make me chafe. Even moreso than riding Pegasus does.

As she goes left and you stay right

As you all know by now, I'm basically retarded when it comes to dealing with members of the opposite sex. There's a girl I've been interested in, but haven't been able to ask out. I mentioned this to one of my friends, and then told him some of the things that she's said and done to get his opinion on whether he thought she was sending out signals.

His response was, "I'm going to smack you right now. Girls don't do stuff like that unless they're interested. Ask her to go do something with you."

The next time I talked to him I said, "I've got some disappointing news. You know the girl I wanted to ask out? She has a boyfriend."

"Really?" he said, "That's surprising because she seemed to be coming on to you pretty strong. There's got to be something wrong, like, maybe she's just a nice person or something."

I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity who uses a machete to cut through red tape

My Roommate's Son: Have you met my aunt?

Me: No. Is she hot?

Son: Why do you always ask that?

Me: I just want to know.

Son: Well, people say she's pretty.

Me: Good to know. Does she put out?

Son: She's my aunt *punches me in the arm* and she's happily married.

Me: So? Rings come off. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, remember?

Son: What would my dad say if you said that to him?

Me: He'd probably think it was funny.

Later when his dad got home I told him the story:

Him: That's pretty funny.

Me: See? I told you he wouldn't care.

Him: Maybe I should invite her out for a visit.

Son: How can you say that? It's your sister.

Him (to son): It's not my decision if they do anything, it's up to them. They're adults.

Him (to me): But I'd be happy for you.

Son: Arrgh!!!

Well I can tell you for the money the simple life honey is good

When I got out of bed this morning, my roommate was standing right outside my bedroom door folding laundry. It startled me to walk out of my room and almost bump into him because I wasn't expecting him to be standing there.

Him: I'm sorry. Was I being too loud?
Me: No. I just didn't realize you were out here because I didn't hear you at all.
Him: Well, I had to be quiet so as not to disturb the princess.

I'm sure his comment had nothing to do with this:



One of my friends gave it to me last night along with a couple bags of candy (my friends know me so well).

By the way, thank you all for the birthday wishes yesterday.

You know I'd even learn to cut my throat if I thought I could fit in

About a week ago, a friend's brother came to town for the weekend. They spent the first few nights doing some of the more typical "Vegas" things such as cruising around in a limo to see the sights, seeing one of the shows on the strip, etc. By Saturday night they just wanted to take it easy, especially since his brother's flight was early Sunday morning, so they decided on having a little get together at my friend's house that night.

Now, for a completely different subject that ties in later in this paragraph, I have a pair of shorts that I like to wear on days when I'm not planning on seeing anyone. I've had them for a while, and there's an atrocious rip under one of the back pockets, so my ass basically hangs out, but I can't bring myself to throw them away. I had them on that morning because I was supposed to meet my friend and his brother at the pool earlier in the day and figured it wouldn't matter because I would just be changing into my bathing suit then. I thought I would just shower and change between the pool and his house so I could show up looking somewhat presentable. At least that was the plan.

The complicating factor for the day was that I nearly forgot about a meeting I was supposed to go to at noon. I didn't remember about the meeting until after I'd left the house to grab a few things from the office. I went straight to the meeting from the office, even though I was wearing my assless shorts (hey, at least they're not leather chaps). The meeting ran long, so by the time I'd finished there and called my friend, he and his brother were leaving the pool. He told me that the gathering at his house was still on and that I should show up around 7. I told him I would.

Of course, then I decided to do a favor for another friend, then she and I started talking about stuff and next thing I knew it was past time for me to have been at my friend's house. I still hadn't showered or changed clothes, the first of which I was able to take care of at my friend's house before we left (I even used some of her spray on deodorant), but the assless shorts were still on. I decided that it didn't really matter, so we just went to the party. Sure I didn't get there until 2 1/2 hours after I said I would, but that's just how I roll. I'm a lot like Paris Hilton in that respect.

While at the party I made some comment about the huge hole in the back of my shorts. My friend's brother replied, "You know what else is wrong with those shorts? They're denim." Another guy added, "Yeah. That's so 1990's."

I want to make it clear that I only have a few pairs of denim shorts, but not all of them are old and ratty. In fact, I believe I bought a few as recently as last summer. I really didn't know that they were officially "out of style" until that night last week.

Now I know I'm fucking old.

Sexy woman meet me after work, I wanna show you how I handle business, I wanna show you how the mailboy* flirts

I got this picture via text message from my sister:










Great, now I want to see whores.



*When my parents moved the family to Flaming Gorge at the end of my Junior year, the high school there wasn't prepared to offer me all the classes I needed to take. They basically had to create three classes just for me to finish my Junior year, and I took a bunch of college courses via satellite during my Senior year. However, there were only so many satellite courses offered, and I still had to fill up my day, so I signed up for an hour of being an office aid. My primary job was to walk up the street to the district offices, get the day's mail and sort it into the teachers' boxes. When my friends would see me carrying the mail tote Geppetto would yell out, "Hey look! It's the mailboy," and flieswithoutwings would add, "Isn't that a double negative?"

You're perfect yes it's true, but without me you're only you

A few weeks ago I was talking to a girl I know and somehow we got on the subject of her sister. She told me that her sister is a few years older than us, but is absolutely gorgeous.

Me: If your sister's that pretty then hook a guy up. Wait, she's probably married, huh.
Her: She is.
Me: Well, if she's looking to have a mid-life crisis, tell her I'm her guy.
Her: Actually, she might be. I'll let her know.

Since then it's been a running joke between us, and every time we run into each other I ask about her sister.

About a week ago I asked how her sister was doing and she told me that she was meeting up with her "gorgeous" sister later that night. I told her that my offer still stood.

Another guy I know overheard this and said, "You don't have enough lack of moral fiber to be able to pull something like that off."

Damn! He's right. The thing is, I'm not sure whether he meant that as a compliment or an insult.

Dance 'til you can't, dance 'til you can't dance no more

Last night I went with a group of people to a karaoke place. I don't particularly enjoy karaoke, but I figured that it would be better than sitting at home doing nothing on a Friday night, so I went anyway.

Karaoke is something that I would probably be pretty good at, since I tend to be able to sing a lot of songs (if I could remember important things as well as I can remember song lyrics I'd probably win a Nobel prize or something). However, since I don't drink, there's not much in this world that would get me to go in front of a large group of people and make a fool of myself (if I wanted to do that I'd just try out for American Idol).

At one point, someone went up and sang C & C Music Factory's Everybody Dance Now. People in the audience were really getting into it and started dancing all over the place.

My Friend: Just think, if you'd gone up and sang this song you'd have a bunch of girls dancing with you right now.
Me: Damn, why didn't I think of that?
My Friend: Sure, it might just be that transvestite, but who are you to be picky?

A smooth criminal

Yesterday when I called to tell my daughter happy birthday, my son informed me that their house had been broken into. Someone took the screen off one of the windows using a screw driver, and then came into the house.

That's a scary thing to think about, but luckily nothing bad happened.

My ex and her husband had left some credit cards and some money out on one of the counters, not to mention all the electronics they have in the living room, but none of that was touched. The only thing that was missing was a stack of self help books.

Seriously, who does that?

'Cause I haven't been too brave but mostly frightened

Thirteen years ago today I was in a hospital in a small town in northeastern Utah. I was reading magazine articles about death of Kurt Cobain, trying to take my mind off the wave of nausea that was bubbling up inside me.

I was scared. Scared of what was in store for me that day. Scared because I was waiting to experience one of the best things to happen to me in this lifetime.

I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my little baby girl.

It was a long wait.

At the time, we lived an hour and a half away from the hospital, so the doctor decided to induce labor the previous day to save us from having to make another trip. There were a few complications, but after approximately 19 hours the moment had finally arrived, and my life would no longer be the same.

She was the most beautiful little froggy looking thing with a smashed up face that I'd ever seen. At 9 lbs. and 20 1/2 inches she was rather plump. Plump enough that when my car wouldn't start in the parking lot and my mother had to make the drive to pick us up at the hospital and take us home, her cheeks jiggled with every little bump in the road. As my mom drove and I watched her cheeks jiggle, car problems were the farthest thing from my mind. I was a dad.

A lot has happened over the past thirteen years. After several moves, two college degrees (with a third in the works), two little brothers for her, and a divorce, I no longer live with my baby girl, and she no longer has the pudgy cheeks that jiggle in the car. But I love her every bit as much as I did then, if not more. Even if she does like to do strange things like wear aluminum foil on her teeth.


Happy Birthday Baby!!!

My little pony, my little pony, isn't the world a lovely place?

I want to share an email I got regarding my post about the dream I had the other night.

"i ate some my little pony fruit snacks yesterday...now i want to see whores. just thought you should know."

It's good to see the influence I have on the lives of others. It makes me feel as if I'm the rootin'-est tootin'-est* blogger west of the Pecos.




*I had the idea to work this into a post quite some time ago, but never did because Eric D. Snider** used it in something he wrote before I could (Damn I hate being scooped). I didn't want to plagiarize him, but then I decided screw it, I had the idea first*** and I'm using it, I'll just give him credit, especially for the spelling, so there you go.


**I would have linked to the exact place where he used it, but I couldn't remember if it was on his blog or in one of his Snide Remarks columns, plus I'm lazy and couldn't find it in the 30 seconds I just spent on his site. Feel free to look for it yourselves.


***I really have no proof that I had the idea first. After all, he could have thought of it years ago and just never used it until recently. I guess we'll never know.

The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting

I know it's a cop out post*, but I've got nothing else. Plus I thought this was hilarious. It's Kermit the Frog doing a cover of Johnny Cash covering the Nine Inch Nails song Hurt.

I should probably warn you that if you have a soul you will probably find this offensive. I wouldn't know. I don't have a soul.





*My apologies to those of you who I already sent this to

Here's the thing that's so much more depressing than the infidelity itself

Last night I was listening to Pedro the Lion. A friend of mine gave me the album Control shortly after my ex-wife and I separated. Back then it suited my mood just about perfectly with its lyrics about infidelity, jealousy, revenge, etc.

Below are a few examples that I can think of off the top of my head (listed by song):

Rapture: This is how we multiply, pity that it's not my wife. The friction and skin, the trembling sigh. This is how our bodies move with everything that we can lose. Pushing us deeper still the sheets and the sweat, the seed and the spill. The bitter pill yet undiscovered. Gideon is in the drawer, clothes scattered on the floor. She's arching her back, she screams for more.

Penetration: If it isn't penetration then it isn't worth the kiss.

Rehearsal: You know I always said that I would kill you if I ever caught you stepping out. But now I see I did not know the half of what hatred and revenge were all about. Darlin' you are so unoriginal, each move more obvious than the one before it. I guess I could be bigger but I'd rather make you pay.

Second Best: Second best. Second best. I guess I can live with it. After all what's wrong with second best?

Priests and Paramedics: The neighbors heard a fight. Someone had a knife. It must have been the wife. Husband's lost a lot of blood, wakes up screaming, "Oh my God! Am I gonna die? Am I gonna die?" As they strap his arms down to his side. In times like these they've been taught to lie, "Buddy, just calm down you'll be alright."

I could go on, but I think you get my point.

Pedro the Lion is one of the few bands of which I own a t-shirt.



A different friend of mine bought it for me once he realized that I liked the band. I wear the shirt occasionally, and usually someone will ask about it. One day I was talking to him while I was wearing it when a girl asked me about it.

Her: Who's Pedro the Lion.
Me: It's the name of a band.
Her: Really? I've never heard of them.
My Friend: Oh, that's because [Minnow] and I are the only people in the world who have been able to listen to an entire album without killing ourselves.

The band broke up early last year, but the lead singer (and main artist behind it all), David Bazan, is still doing solo work. He's good, in case you're interested in some music that may or may not make you want to kill yourself.

Box full of letters - 5

To the woman who just hit on me while I was filling my car with gas:

Why couldn't you have been attractive? Why???

Sincerely,
Native Minnow

I almost feel sorry for what I'm going to do

The other day one of my friends cracked a joke about inappropriate email addresses (for the full story go here). In case you're too lazy to click the link, he joked that another guy's email was sexualpredator@hotmail.com.

It got me thinking about other inappropriate email addresses, so I've listed a few here. Feel free to join in on the fun by suggesting your own. Without further ado, here are the ones I came up with:

tijuanacrackwhore@gmail.com

junkiegirl@earthlink.net

genitalherpesguy@aol.com

USAnumberonecokedealer@yahoo.com

ZodiacKiller@comcast.net

polygamistwife12@us.gov

snufffilmdirector@gmail.com

10000blowjobsgiven@yahoo.com

racist1@hatemail.com

guiltyofmurderingmywife@aol.com

It's not the money, or the bloodstains on the wall, it's not my fault.

I had a very strange dream last night. I wouldn’t normally try to recreate something like a vivid dream for you, because I can hardly expect myself to convey all the details that make such a dream memorable, but I thought I’d give it a try just the same.

It’s that interesting.

Plus, it has the potential for bringing me monetary benefits as you will see shortly.

The part of the dream I remember began with me hanging out with a bunch of people I hardly know (in fact, one was a guy who I only know from reading his movie reviews online). We were at a strip club, so there were some boobies being flashed about, but that’s not what made it a memorable dream*.

A lot of the guys were buying lap dances, but I just needed to go to the bathroom. The movie critic told me that I didn’t want to use a strip club bathroom (probably good advice) and that I should just go to his place instead. Conveniently, it was right next door. So, I left and went to use his bathroom.

Now seems like an appropriate time to tell you that one of the members of our group had disappeared before I left, and the others were looking for him so they could buy him a lap dance.

When I went into the bathroom, I saw an empty box for a Spider Man invisibility suit. Makes sense, right? No wonder they couldn’t find the guy they were looking for. He was invisible! Anyway, I took care of my business and went back outside, only to hear the others calling this guy’s name (which I don’t remember). At that point I thought to myself that they could definitely get him to come out of hiding if they only had some My Little Pony toys to lure him out.

Then the My Little Pony song started playing. Except, the words were modified to the following:

My Little Pony makes you want to see the whores.

Then I woke up.

Do you see how this has potential monetary benefits? This will open up a whole new marketing demographic for My Little Pony items. Instead of only being able to sell them to little girls, they will now be purchased by frat boys everywhere.

I’ll be expecting a fat check from Hasbro any day now.




*I’m a guy. Guys dream about boobies pretty much every night (and all day long as well). There's nothing unique about that!

Hardly education, all them books I didn't read, they just sat there on the shelf looking much smarter than me

This is a sign that's on the door of one of the lecture halls on campus:



I think it illustrates this state's views on education rather nicely.

Man I ain't changed but I know I ain't the same

In case you needed further convincing that Vegas is a weird place, here are a few of the conversations I overheard* in the past week or so.

Two guys sitting on the patio at a bar:
Guy 1: Why are all the pretty girls showing up with dudes attached?
Guy 2: I know, that chick's hot.
Guy 1: Apparently they have a two year old together.
Guy 2: So, I'd still fuck her.
Guy 1: I would too. In fact, I'd do it with him right there watching.
Guy 2: (doubled over laughing)
Guy 1: I might even go for it on this table right here. Right in front of all you guys.

Two guys discussing their plans for the evening:
Guy 1: I think I'm going to go home. I have to bake a cake tonight.
Guy 2: Is that a metaphor?
Guy 1: For what? Jacking off?
Guy 2: ???
Guy 1: Well? That's the only prospect I have tonight.

Two guys who'd just passed a girl on the sidewalk:
Guy 1: Wow.
Guy 2: What, the heels?
Guy 1: The heels, legs, ass, breasts.
Guy 2: Oh, I didn't make it past the heels, legs and ass.

Two guys in the hallway of one of the buildings on campus:
Guy 1: Well, I gotta go and take a crap. Wanna come? You into that?
Guy 2: No, I think I'll be alright.
Guy 1: You're not into any of that stuff? You don't have any German sheizer fantasies?
Guy 2: Dude, I do not need you to squeeze out a Cleveland steamer on my chest.
Guy 1: Alright, suit yourself.

A guy and a girl discussing Easter plans:
Guy: I didn't even realize that Easter was coming up this soon.
Girl: Well, you're not Catholic so you don't have Lent to worry about.
Guy: What did you give up for Lent anyway?
Girl: I gave up smoking so much weed.



* I refuse to disclose whether I had a part in any of these conversations or if I was just a casual passerby.

Hippity-Hoppity Happy Easter Day

True or False. Spending a good portion of the evening on Easter Sunday gazing at the following view means that you're a pathetic individual.

Hang down my umbilical noose so I can climb right back

A friend of mine hosted a two-on-two basketball tournament yesterday. Initially, he wanted to make sure that those of us who play on a regular basis were on separate teams in order to keep it fun and not too competitive. However, as the tournament approached, he decided to let anyone that wanted to play pair up, regardless of skill level, just to make sure that there were some teams. That's how I was able to form team Shake 'n Bake with my friend Piz.

Our game plan largely consisted of coming up with uniforms (white wife beater shirts and Mardi Gras beads) and memorizing lines from the movie Talladega Nights to use as trash talk.

For example:

- We're gonna' come at you like a couple of spider monkeys.
- One of you turds is about to get smacked in the mouth.
- I'm the best there is, plain and simple, I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence.

Yeah, we're annoying.

Piz and I were talking the evening before the tournament:

Piz: Are we going to win this basketball tournament tomorrow?
Me: Of course.
Piz: Is that going to help us feel better about our lives?
Me: I certainly hope so.

We won the tournament, and while I can't really speak for Piz, it didn't help me feel all that much better about my life. Maybe it's because we don't have the trophy yet.

There were a lot of people who didn't play but showed up just to have fun watching the games, dying Easter eggs, barbecuing, etc. I'm only bringing this up so that I can tell you one of the funniest things I heard all night. My friend's daughter asked what color of egg I wanted, and then dyed one red and yellow for me. When they left, they took most of the eggs with them, but I made her leave mine. I was carrying it around, saying that nobody could eat it because it was my egg, when a guy made a crack about my masculinity.

Him: Your egg huh? You know, most guys wouldn't be able to say that.
Me: It is my egg. I keep it in my vagina.
Him: A vagina is not a fanny pack.

A hierarchy, spread out on the nightstand

I went to dinner with a friend, and for some reason the server brought us an extra straw.

Him: You want to split this?
Me: No, you can have the whole thing.
Him: No thanks, I've had my fill of plastic.
Me: What goes on between you and [your girlfriend] can just stay in the bedroom. I don't need to hear about it.

Later when we were leaving the parking lot I had to swerve to avoid running over a broken bottle. He was looking down when I swerved, so kind of gave me a funny look when I did.

Me: I'm just trying to straddle that broken glass.
Him: If what goes on in my bedroom has to stay there, then I don't want to hear about what goes on in yours either.

Darling, come here

Yesterday I was walking across campus with a friend, and a girl that was walking toward us walked onto the grass to pass by.

Me (to my friend): I didn't mean to run her off the sidewalk like that. I thought there was plenty of room for both of us.
Him: There should have been plenty of room, but even so, you should feel bad. She had a pretty face.
Me: She had a face? All I noticed was her nice cleavage.
Him: It was nice.
Me: Maybe that's what made me run her off the sidewalk. It's like when you're learning how to ski and they tell you not to look at the trees or else you end up running into them. Don't look at the cleavage or you're going to end up there.

I'll give you something that you won't forget

Yesterday some of my friends and I went to watch the NCAA basketball final. One of them called earlier in the day to let me know that he was still planning on going, but that he was going to be late. I had been playing basketball earlier, and my voice sounded a little weird (mostly because we were playing one on one and I'd been running around more than usual so I was coughing stuff out of my lungs).

Him: Are you ok? You're not getting sick are you?
Me: No. It's just because I ran more today. You know how you get that crap coming up in your throat?
Him: Semen? No, I'm sorry, I don't know anything about that.

He's such a liar!

In a car underwater with time to kill

At the mid-point of every semester there comes a time when students begin to worry whether they should remain enrolled in certain courses. Those courses are usually their most difficult ones, and that time is usually the week of the drop deadline (a.k.a., the last day to withdraw from a class you're failing without actually receiving an F on your transcript).

As the drop deadline looms, students usually approach their professors to see what chance they have of redeeming themselves and somehow salvage their grade. These students are usually willing to do just about anything except the one thing that is sure to help them, put more effort into studying (well, maybe they're not willing to do anything, but I'm sure some would even go there).

I've heard professors talking about this several times. They aren't really allowed to tell a student "yes, you should drop" or "no, you can still get a passing grade so you should remain enrolled." They just have to lay out what the student would have to do to salvage their grade. The student then has to be the one to make the decision.

Perhaps my favorite piece of advice came from one professor who said that sometimes, after laying everything out for them, you just want to look at the student and say, "I can't really tell you what to do, but if I were in your position, I'd probably go kill myself."

Ocean Man

When I was an undergraduate I worked part time in the fishing department of a sporting goods store. It was a relatively easy job, and it allowed me to justify flyfishing a couple times a week rather easily (as if I really needed much of an excuse to put off studying if there wasn't an exam looming in the immediate future), so even though the pay wasn't all that great, I enjoyed it immensely.

When you work at a place like that, everyone that walks through the door assumes that you are an expert* on everything the store has in stock. I learned how to flyfish 15 years ago, but I'd hardly call myself a flyfishing expert, let alone an expert in all types of fishing. However, in such a situation you hear enough from co-workers, customers and sales representatives that you do get an idea of what the quality products are, and which ones are junk. It was only because of this that I felt comfortable talking to people about what products to buy.

One day a woman and her son came in to see about purchasing a new reel for him. The son was in his 30s, and had an obvious mental handicap. The woman explained to me that her son really liked to go fishing, and she needed to buy him a new reel because his old one had broken. She went on to say that she didn't want to buy something cheap because he would break it very quickly if she did, but also that she didn't want to spend a lot of money because no matter what she bought, he would probably end up breaking it anyway.

I showed her a couple of reels that people seemed to be really happy with, and as I was explaining the differences to her, her son kept bouncing up and down in the background yelling, "I BROKE MY 'NUTHER ONE!"

I continued on and was somehow able to keep a straight face until she left with her son and his new reel. Forget moving out on my own, forget my divorce, forget moving 350 miles away from my kids, not bursting out into laughter on that day is the hardest thing I've ever done.



*I, on the other hand, correctly assume that most salesmen are not experts. After all, a true expert would be making a LOT more money doing something other than working in a retail store for little more than minimum wage. No, salesmen are only interested in making a sale, and are going to tell you whatever you want to hear in order to make that happen.

Without an answer the thunder speaks from the sky

Tomorrow I have to present some of my research at a symposium here on campus. It's always hard to get excited to present at this particular symposium because the only people who are going to be there are others who are presenting their research, so there's not really an audience that's particularly interested in what is being presented. However, we all received funds from the same source, and in order to be eligible to receive future funding it's required that we present at this symposium (just another hoop to jump through).

I was talking about it with one of my lab mates and he mentioned something about how inevitably people ask stupid questions at the end of the presentations (side note, whoever said there is no such thing as a stupid question lied). On top of that, someone almost always asks "Why should I be interested in this research?" (which clearly indicates that they are not interested in the research - one of the problems about speaking to an audience that is only there because they have to be). Sure, we could go on and on about how it's important to know how things have evolved and so forth, but the answer most people are looking for when asking such a question is how it affects people.

Well, fear not gentle reader, for my lab mate has offered the best possible answer to that question and it is as follows:

"Well, for one thing, it keeps me off the streets and away from your daughter."

That's one I may have to start using.

Look what you did, you idiot kid, you don't have a clue

You've got to love YouTube. They have almost everything one could ask for, which is quite handy on days when one doesn't have much time to put into a blog post. Today, one figures one can just play a clip from one of one's favorite movies, The Royal Tenenbaums.



One's not quite sure why one loves that scene so much. Maybe it's because one's been there before, and is fairly certain that one will be there again at some point in the future.

Or maybe it's because of the following scene, which one couldn't find on YouTube (although one didn't look very hard) but has transcribed below.

(the scene is set with the entire Tenenbaum family sitting around Richie in the recovery room at the hospital after the incident).

Chas: Why'd you do it?
Richie: I wrote a suicide note.
Chas: You did?
Richie: Yeah. Right after I regained consciousness.
Chas: Can we read it?
Richie: No.
Chas: Can you paraphrase it for us?
Richie: I don't think so.
Chas: Is it dark?
Richie: Of course it's dark. It's a suicide note.

Fire it up

Last night I watched my friends play softball. They lost (again), but this time it was probably just because the other team was made up of guys who live to play softball. What pleasure you get out of stacking a team with a bunch of guys who are pretty decent and then playing in a novice league is beyond me, but apparently it helps some people feel better about life. And by some people I'm specifically referring to the really fat pitcher on the other team. I haven't seen anything jiggle like that since the girl we nicknamed Jugs competed in one of those sack races in high school. When she was bouncing up and down all over the place it was awesome (you should have seen it, every guy in the school lined up to watch that one, including the male teachers and principal). When the pitcher's man boobies and fat gut were jiggling all over the place as he ran the bases, it was most certainly not awesome. I really wish that I'd had some sort of recording device so that I could have slowed it down, put it to music and shared it with you all via YouTube, but you'll just have to use your imaginations. Personally, I'd want to play in a league that was competitive so the games would actually be interesting. There's really no joy in winning a league championship if you didn't really have to compete for it, but maybe that's just me.

I was not dressed for the occasion. I knew that it was supposed to cool down yesterday, but figured I could still get away with wearing shorts and sandals. I was wrong. It was cold!

(Those of you who are not from Vegas are probably snickering about what wimps we are here, in which case I challenge you to come here in July when the temperature is 117 and we'll see who's wimpier).

I had to break down and put on the big gay sweatshirt my parents got me for Christmas (live by the rod, die by the rod). That wasn't even enough so I put on a windbreaker too. Even with that, I still got too cold just sitting on the bleachers so stood up throughout the second game of their double header figuring that it would help a little, and it did.

While we were standing there, I offered to warm up one of my friends by putting my jacket around her to shield the wind.

Girl 1: That actually does help a little.
Me (to Girls 2 and 3): Come on you two, there's plenty of room. It'll warm you up.
Girl 2: It might heat up in other ways.
Me: True. It'd probably start a fire in my pants.

Now that, my friends, would be a proper way to start a fire in your pants.

Well you talked about nothing which was more than I wanted to know

My friend and I made a detour on the way back from lunch yesterday so that I could pick up the new Modest Mouse cd. I grabbed the cd and proceeded to the check out line as my friend followed me.

Cashier: Are you two together?

Friend: Well, we're not together. We're just enjoying a nice shopping experience together.

Cashier (very embarrassed): I wasn't trying to say you were gay.

I wanted to say something to him about how it's ok, we don't have to hide anymore, at least not here because nobody knows us, but as he said when I told him that later, "You don't want to put me into a position where I'm going to say something really humiliating."

I've only listened to the cd once so far, but it's definitely got one of those catchy songs that I end up playing over and over again (4 times on the way to work this morning). The lyrics are even optimistic (for those of you who say I listen to depressing music).

Here are a few examples of the optimism:

- Well it would've been, could've been worse than you would ever know.
- Oh, the dashboard melted but we still had the radio.
- Oh, the windshield was broken but I love the fresh air you know.
- Well the car was on blocks but I was already where I want.

Note: If you'd like to hear the song, I believe it plays automatically when you click the link to the band at the beginning of this post, or you could just play the clip below.

Dead cat in a top hat, wow

This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm not much of a pet lover. Maybe it's because we were never allowed to have pets in the house when I was growing up, or maybe it's because I'm a horrible, horrible person. I'm guessing it's a little of both. Or maybe I get it from my dad.

I have a sister who loves pets. Ok, I have more than one sister, and more than one of them loves pets, but this particular sister really takes it to the next level (ironically, it's not even the sister who has 30 goats). She's the one who convinced my parents to spend $300* on a Pomeranian even after they swore that they'd never get another dog. She also recently convinced them to let her take in a Siamese cat. It was supposed to stay in the garage, but somehow that didn't stick and now it's always in the house. This particular sister has also moved out recently. Her pets have been left behind, even though I don't think either of my parents or my sister who still lives at home even like them. I know my dad doesn't.

Last time I was at their house, the cat was playing around with some stuff in the living room. My dad told me that he was trying to get it to play with plastic bags from the grocery store.

Him: My plan is to train it to jump into a bag. When she's used to being able to jump in and out, I'll wait for her to jump in, then I'll tie it off and sit and watch until it stops moving around. This is going to be fun**.





* If you knew my parents, that price tag would amaze you.

** He wouldn't really do it, but it is funny.

And the woman who says she'll have me I long for her embrace

I'm currently reading a book titled Special Topics in Calamity Physics (go here for a review of it, it's not exactly what you'd think by reading the title). I'm only about halfway through, but I've enjoyed reading it and would recommend it even without knowing the ending*.

The reason I'm bringing this up is that I read a passage this morning that perfectly sums up my take on relationships.

"I'd never contemplated relationships very much (Dad said they were preposterous if I was under twenty-one and when I was over twenty-one Dad considered it Fine Points, Minutiae, a question of transportation or ATM location in a new town; "We'll figure it out when we get there," he said with a wave of his hand) and yet, in that moment, when I moved past Milton and Joalie, both of them smiling confidently in spite of the fact at distances greater than fifteen feet they looked like a gorilla walking a teacup Yorkie, I actually felt awed by the remote possibilities of the person you liked ever liking you back a corresponding amount. And this mathematical conundrum started its long division in my head at breakneck speed, so by the time I sat down in the front row of AP Calculus and Ms. Thermopolis at the dry-erase board was trying to wrestle to the ground a robust function from our homework, I was left with a disturbing number.

"I suppose it was why, after years of playing the odds, some people cashed in their measly chips for their Zach Soderberg, the kid who was like a cafeteria, so rectangular and brightly lit there wasn't a millimeter of exciting murk or thrilling secret (not even under the plastic chairs or behind the vending machines). The only saturnine miasma to be found in him was maybe a bit of mold on the orange Jell-O. The boy was all creamed spinach and stale hot dog.

"You couldn't make a grisly shadow on his wall if you tried."

I cashed in my measly chips once before (albeit without the years of playing the odds, and it was for someone with too much "exciting murk" and too many "thrilling secrets"). It didn't work out all that well. While I don't wish to repeat that experience, I don't want to end up with a Stepford Wife either (well, except for the impossibly beautiful part). The odds are most definitely not in my favor.




* If you want to check it out from the library on campus you may run into some confusion as I accidentally forgot to check the book out before leaving the building. Obviously, it won't be on the shelf even though the library catalogue will say it should be. I know the right thing to do would be to take it back and check it out properly, but I'm far too lazy for that, so I'll just return it when I've finished reading.

I'm lonely, but I ain't that lonely yet

Ex-wife: I think you should date my biology teacher.

Me: You do huh?

Ex-wife: Yeah, I do. She's not that pretty, but she's well educated and seems to be really cool. She has a lisp, but you don't even notice it after a while.

Me: Um. I'm pretty shallow. Plus, she lives in Salt Lake City so I don't really see how that would work out.

Ex-wife: I just thought that you'd have a lot in common because you're interested in the same subject. I said she was smart, but she's not arrogant.

Me: But I am, remember? I heard that from you for years.


I don't know why everyone is suddenly feeling the need to find love for me (I mean, obviously I'm incapable of doing it myself, but still). I'm finding it to be a little annoying. Strike that. Make that QUITE annoying. I would like to take this time to add another rule to who I will consider dating.

New Rule: NO LISPS!!!

Maybe sometimes old men die with little boy faces

We are now at the point in the semester when my students get to start dissecting animals. They're usually quite excited about this as animals are infinitely more exciting to learn about than plants (sorry all you botanists out there, but it's a scientific fact).

Yesterday one of my students made a comment about how it was fun to finally be able to cut something open. A guy sitting a row behind that student said, "Yeah, this is fun and all, but when do we get to dissect a homeless guy?"

Scary as it may seem, his was not the first comment along those lines. Earlier in the day, one of my students asked if he could dissect an earthworm without anesthetizing* it first. His two lab partners looked at him like he was crazy, and started telling him that he was sadistic. He maintained that he just wanted to see how the hearts pumped. His partners kept on with the comments, so I decided to join in.

Me: "You had to go to the park over spring break and strangle a homeless guy just to get you by until you could come back to class, didn't you?"

He just looked at me as if I was the most disturbed person he'd ever met**.

Hey, at least I didn't say what I initially thought, which was "you had to strangle a homeless guy in order to get an erection."




*drowning it in ethanol

**he may be right

I tried hard to have a father but instead I had a dad

My 4 year old: I'm lucky. I have two dads. One fat and one not fat.

His Step Dad: Wow. I just got put in my place by a 4 year old.


***************EDIT******************

Speaking of my 4 year old, is he a budding young ornithologist, or a future serial killer? I'll let you decide:

And if the devil would take her I'd thank him for his pain

I stopped to visit my parents for a couple of hours on the first day of my trip. It was nice to see them. I'm sure they were glad that I showed up without having eaten anything so I could take care of a bunch of the left-overs they had in the refrigerator. After all, what else are sons good for?

Sometime during my short visit, my dad offered the following gem:

My Dad: You know why they call it PMS don't you?

Me: Why?

My Dad: Because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.

And you all wonder where I get it.