[watching beach volleyball on digital TV]

"Where's Kerri Walsh?"

"That BABE?!"

Our Mistake

You know what's not a good idea? Running around at night in all black carrying around your household items, such as stereos and computers. Those cops will mistake you for burglars and take you right to the clink.

Who know who's a little jerk?

This guy.

He's always ditching Wendy for mermaids or Indians or Tinker Bell.

it's a paint-by-number

if brittany and i starred in Good Will Hunting, she'd play the role of matt damon because she's wicked smaht. and i'd be her dumb best friend ben affleck, because we all know how much i look like him and how i'm going nowhere.

let's smoke some weed

RU-FI-O! RU-FI-O!

RU. FI. OHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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A tale of deodorant:

Julie had this Secret deodorant that smelled of vanilla and Hawaii, I believe.  The scent was too much for her non-so-stinky pits.  She entrusted it to me.  I wore it with pride until I left it at my parents' house one weekend.  My mom then took it on her journey to Connecticut where she knew she would be stinky.  There, my cousin thought her mom bought it for her and was very excited at which point my mom knew it had to be left to those younger than us who enjoy fancy deodorant.  And there it remains, in Connecticut to bask in the pitts of  a 12 year old.  I'm sure it ran out on her in a week.  

My mom said it, not me.

"Even when you do get a boyfriend, he won't be as fun at family events as Julie.  You'll have to bring both!"

"When Julie starts dating that guy, she better not blow off our family because she has to hang out with him."

Best friend integration into family: Complete.

and i'm always like,"Who's playing the drums?"

I wish the dorks downstairs who play HALO every second of everyday, providing a never ending barrage of fake automatic-artillery and various grunting noises, would go to war. The real war. Where they'd have to man up. And then they'd get shot. But they wouldn't die. They'd lose a limb here and a limb there, but with technology so advanced these days, it might actually be an advantage for them because they would be part robot. But the technology for robotic hands is not yet so perfect as a human hand's fine motor skills so they would either have to give up playing video games and crush cans all day or learn to play with their tongues. But hopefully the game would just give them flashbacks to the trenches and they would just sit there in silence with the blinds drawn and crushed cans strewn about, thinking only of dark days to come. And then I might go down and swap war stories and ask if I could try out their bionic replacement parts. We might even become friends and I would help them out of their depression by providing numerous statistics about soldiers who commit suicide and how they would have wanted to live if they only had a friend. Like me. And I would take their robot hand and say,"Don't you be a statistic [insert name here]. DON'T YOU BE A STATISTIC - DO YOU HEAR ME!?" And I would crush the Xbox in dramatic culmination, beautiful in its simplicity. Then after we all got over the moment, I would ask, "How the hell did you guys have girlfriends before you went to war?" Which is the real question.

When you land, try and land like an 8 year old - these bouncy castles are not designed for adults.

Were we a little TOO excited when we heard that the truck with the jumping castle was out front?

I don't believe there is such a thing as "too excited" when it comes to jumping castles.

Were we a little TOO disappointed when we were told that, No, there was not going to be a jumping castle for the birthday party?

You tell me.

"I'm scared to death." "We all are, Jeff Daniels - but our brains secrete a neurotransmitter that enables us to deal with them."

Today I was told that spiders are not "Gross" (as I had just declared them to be upon encountering one outdoors) - they are "Good." Whatever. Tell that to any child who grew up in the 90s and saw Arachnophobia at the tender age of 6 and 1/2, and you will most assuredly witness a slight look of terror and convulsion as we have flashbacks to the many nights we laid suffocating in bed with the covers over our faces, knowing hundreds, millions, of arachnids were crawling on top of us, trying to find a way in. Everyone remembers that scene when the man and wife are eating a bowl of popcorn and then the spider EATS THEIR BRAINS. Good, my ass.

We are victims; spiders and parents who don't censor what films their children are watching are the villains.

Good News

Both Spiderwick Chronicles AND Nim's Island were pretty good.  Just in case you're into kiddish movies like some people we know who told us about those 2 movies.

"Did you puke last night?"
"Yeah."
"Same... Well, we accomplished what we set out to do."

all it takes is faith and trust. and a few beers.

dear diary,

oh glorious day! it finally happened. i got to hug BAB's brother-in-law. i didn't even have to force him to by pretending to give a high-five then sneaking in for the embrace, which is how i've always imagined it going down. now that we are best friends, i think i'll finally have the courage to ask him what i've wanted to ask him from the very first day i met him: to join me on that greatest test of man's moral fiber, that 1,161 mile expedition where hypothermia and mental deterioration is the name of the game, that race - The Race - known simply as Iditarod. please, God, let him say yes. let me finally have the stouthearted dog sledding partner i've only ever known in my dreams.

bye for now,
julie

I'm Staying Young Forever!

Remember that movie Cocoon that you saw on tv that one Saturday?  Well in our apartment parking lot we have our very own Cocoon.  I have documented it as follows:

I will be rolling this into our pool where I will swim and stay young and sassy.  Eventually the aliens will come and take me away to live a wonderful life as their experimental specimen.

When I got home today, I had a hitler-like stache of dirt on my face.  Boy, I hope it wasn't there all day.

You run 8 miles a day? Well, see I'm a sprinter so we just run 400 meters

I don't think a 48 year old "sprinter" should talk running with a marathoner it just seems unbalanced.  

Talk About Stank

How did I know there was reefer in that Jeep?  1 dude in jammie pants, tie-dye t-shirt, long hair, beard, flip flops, and head band.  1 dude with headband, long hair, dirty clothes.  And what gave it away for sure - reek of pot.  

That dude's future.

Biking in the wind in Ft. Collins is probably as hard as having a baby.

"I appreciate this show because it's about a fat guy who has a fat wife."
"...That's a blog right there."

some of the lamest conversations i've ever had have been while getting my haircut at Great Clips.

highlights:

"So... uh... what do you do with all the hair?"

"We just throw it away."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't make sweaters..."

.

"You have really thick hair."

"I know."

"I have a scar on the back of my head, it's not sensitive."

"What's it from?"

"Uh... I don't remember."

(actually it's a birthmark, but I thought it'd be cooler to say it's a scar. unfortunately for both of us, i hadn't rehearsed a cover-story)

"Mama was in vaudeville, you see."
"Right..."

"What kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Finesse."

"That's why you have a dry scalp."

"What kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Herbal Essence."

"That's why you have a dry scalp."

"What Kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Dove."

"That's why you have a dry scalp."

today when i got my haircut, i swear the lady was trying to rip my birthmark off my head with her comb. i didn't mind that much because she was the silent type and it saved us 45 minutes of lame conversation.

I have no knack for business

If only I had purchased 10,000 of those Liberty Bell stamps at 41 cents.  As of today I would be making 3 cents on the stamp.  My investment would have increased by $300, that's almost a whole month's rent.  Biggest opportunity I ever missed out on.

#10 HAVE FUN!!

As I am about to embark on 3 weeks of solitude, I take out my 10 Rules of Karate list and refresh my mind.  I must remember #5 Maintain an Indomitable Spirit.  And I can't forget #2 No Junk Food.  If these 10 sentences of wisdom weren't hanging on my wall, I doubt I would be able to stay away from things like fighting with siblings and I might struggle with #9 Be Loyal to Your Country.  So thank goodness I'm well equipped, now jan can go on her journey knowing that I'll probably survive.

It's ten simple steps to kicking someone in the throat.

I aint as pretty as I used to be but god damn it I'm still standing here and I'm The Ram.

Last night I had a dream that I was asking The Wrestler how he dyes his hair.

The dream concerned me for two reasons:
1) Why would I ask THE RAM for hair advice? His mane isn’t exactly something I should aspire to.
2) Mickey Rourke!? That pervert? Get outta mah dreams, sir.

The whole dream felt dirty and uncomfortable in the same way it felt dirty and uncomfortable to watch the movie and find myself being attracted to his old, dirty abs.

jagged little pill

I wish I could still listen to Alanis Morissette with the same
renegade spirit, like I did in 3rd grade.









oh to be 8 again.

i can see your nuts

i once had this teacher who told his wife if he ever lost his mind to just drive him deep into the woods and drop him off and leave him there forever because he wouldn't know the difference.

you know he'd be naked after so long in the wild and he'd scare hikers every so often with his crazy nakedness, eventually becoming a legend told at slumber parties by little girls who had already tried (and failed) to do "light as a feather, stiff as a board."

my question to you:

WHO NEEDS TO BE CRAZY?

I'M DONE WITH SCHOOL!!!

ode to a frankfurter

i love summer. mostly because it means i get to eat hotdogs all day every day.



speaking of hotdogs - here's a song from my childhood:

In the bedroom, the mighty bedroom,
John Bobbitt sleeps tonight.
In the kitchen, the mighty kitchen,
Lorena gets a knife.
A-weenie-whack, a-weenie-whack,
A-WEENIE-WHACK, A-WEENIE-WHACK...


it's more of a hotdog-hate song, but i still like it.

a convo with our new best friend "jerry the safeway clerk"

Jerry to other clerk: "Can I get some bags from you?"

Us: "We can just carry our stuff."

Jerry is despondent: "But I just got all these bags for you."

Us, hearts melting on the spot:  "Aw, Jerry!" 

I'd like to thank whoever had the brilliant idea to paint Colorado's roads with non-reflective paint for making us have to drive like a bunch of terrified little bitches when it rains.

blueberries everywhere!

One time Julie had a box of super blueberry muffins, which usually comes with 2 cans of berries, but ours had 3!  So with our extra can we made blueberry waffles.  And that's a true story.

What Do We Eat??

We have the stinkiest trash in the world.

HEY EVERYBODY!! I got 8 hours of sleep last night!








Tonight, i'm going for 11.

in the words of Drew Barrymore in the hit film titled ET: "Whaaaat's haaaapeniiiing?"

finals used to just turn me into a monster. a napping, grouchy, crying monster with unkempt hair.

but now... it's turned me into an insomniac. and i'm losing it. i'd much rather be the monster. do you hear me? I'D MUCH RATHER BE THE MONSTER.

my room is stinky

it smells like garlic in here and meatloaf and some other stenches and not in a good way.  i lit a vanilla candle so it smells like vanilla flavored garlic meatloaf stink.  what a life.

take that

I recently went under scrutiny for possibly having bed bugs.  After the Orkin man inspected the seams of my mattress and said "I don't see any signs, but never say never."  I understand that I never had nor ever will have bed bugs.  So all of you who were creeped out to be near me, know this, I just have extremely, extremely, creepy dry skin.

No bed bugs here.

i change my vote

In a recent debate with a 12 year old, I argued that Zaq Effron was cuter than Chance Crawford. On this date, April 26, 2009, I'd like it to go on record that I redact my claim on the basis that:

A) I was under the impression that Chance Crawford was someone else of lesser refinement

B) his name is actually Chace Crawford. not Chance.

The real Chance Crawford lives in Idaho and attends BYU Idaho and sports a red leatherjacket:

He's nice enough, but not really. Not nice enough to be included in the debate.

go back to your shanties

[poor dad was just trying to watch tv]

Sister: "Golf?"
Dad: "It's the Masters."
Mom: "Whatcha watchin? Golf?"
Dad: "It's The Masters."
Me: "Hey guys. Golf!?"
Dad: "It's not golf, it's The Masters!"

girls just don't get it, i guess.

It's a Nut Cruncher!

Why did the whole scene have to go down with two old guys listening and one little lady loudly saying inappropriate things?  Cupboard, you should think a little more about supplying us with goods that are family friendly to say and a little less about fine china for babies.

what the heck is that thing?

all that urine wasted on plain ol' Utah

The four courners ain’t the four corners. Many years ago Bab and I visited the fake four corners. If I had a time machine, I'd go back to the day we said, "Let's go to the four corners!" and I'd shake my head and say to us, "Don't be so lame."

The Firefly

When warming up for a vigorous exercise it's always a good idea to do something like firefeet to get your muscles in gear.  We put a fancy little spin on things by making it into a dance - the Firefly.  You hop around and gracefully move about.  The two guys waiting for the racquetball court can attest to Julie's Firefly skills.  

say it's the Best Blog in the World, or we'll eat your soul

we have acquired another follower.

she took the oath and passed the urine test.

the Great Leader will reward us for this.

i'm a person, not a seal, ok?

Leave it to Bab’s family to throw me to the lions. I told them NEVER to mention my adoration for a particular uncle to THE particular uncle, but I believe that through a series of hand gestures and devious winking, said uncle received the classified information this day. With all that talk about his “broken hip,” and his “inability to feel any pain,” I didn’t stand a chance in this game where my heart was merely a pawn to be forced to the line of scrimmage, then sacrificed. And what was with the prolonged, detailed descriptions (with exaggerated gestures) of his intensive stretching sessions with his sensei? Please. It reeked of conspiracy. It’s like they didn’t want me to eat my $15 worth of Italian buffet but instead were saying, “feast on this,” as they all watched me watching uncle who caught me looking on numerous occasions. Don’t even get me started on the extended embrace goodbye. You knew my weakness and you punched it repeatedly. Cruel, heartless hyenas.

"look alive, julie!"
"hey..."
"what were you doing?!"
"i was thinking."

I can't feel my feet.

I just ate a giant piece of Easter cake covered in frosting, it was delicious.  If you need me, I'll be on the couch, in a diabetic coma.

no children, that bunny isn't full of carrots

one time my cousins had these two rabbits that they never fed and then one day they went out to the cage and there was only one rabbit. an evil rabbit. that had eaten the less resourceful rabbit.
and my cousins were never allowed to get Easter bunnies from the state fair ever again.

the end.

my very own hagrid

I don’t know how many times I have to ask Julie to stop playing card games in shady joints where some dude in a hooded cloak bets a dragon egg.  She either needs to start losing those games or raise her own dragons.

Is it summer time yet?  Because I could really go for some watermelon.

put the Stakeout in the stocks!

we're staking out the Stakeout tonight. be warned to all who enter and exit the Stankout your face could find itself in an all out war with rotten turnips as we express our dislike for the Stinkout by hurtling the ripe contents of our fridge in protest. maybe next time the ol' bartender will check his attitude.

need sleepy

Just because somebody slept - quite literally - all weekend, often for 6-8 hour intervals, doesn't mean there's something wrong with that person. It means I'm tired. Also, just because you find me facedown in the backyard doesn't mean I'm dead. So quit poking me "Just to be sure."
Remember that one guy that was dead near the top of Everest and they knew he was dead because the sherpa had poked him in the EYE "just to be sure" but it turns out that the dude was alive afterall? Of course you remember because when you heard about it you were like, "I'd give anything to have a sherpa." Let that guy teach you a lesson: poking is an ineffective Dead Person Detector, so don't start rolling me into a hole and covering me with dirt if I appear unresponsive to a single prod. Be a good man and check for a pulse, common courtesy.