Some Days Are Better Than Others

The Perfect Gift for an Over Anxious ESFP

I often tell people I struck human gold with my friends. The other day I was at the store when I got a phone call. It was my buddy Justin. Justin told me that he, Mark and Brian (two of my other buddies) all wanted to go to lunch and they were calling, because they wanted to go with me.

I told them I would love to go--mostly because it involved two of my favorite things: 1. Getting invited to do stuff and 2. food. We set a time and they picked me up and took me to Friday's. What they didn't tell me is that they invited two of our other friends, Tanner and David. What they didn't tell me(#2)was that we were "celebrating." What we were celebrating? I didn't know. Nor did I know until we were well into dinner and Justin pulled out a small package wrapped in a brown paper bag.

He told me that we were celebrating our friendship and that they had gotten me something that they really thought I needed. Needless to say, I was a little scared and I was thinking it was probably something inappropriate or embarrassing and I would probably regret opening it at the restaurant or ever agreeing to have dinner with them. Needless to say (#2), I opened it anyway. Like I've said before, I am much to fond of awkward situations to let getting embarrassed ruin them. I tore a little piece of paper at the edge only to peer in and read the word "pregnancy" on the outside of the inner object. My suspicions were correct. At that moment I knew the object contained in that wrapping was both inappropriate and embarrassing. I finished unwrapping the present to find this little number:

I was delighted of course. There is nothing I like more than presents and there is nothing I like more than presents that are meant to be funny. Let me insert here that they changed the description at the top from "A sexuality resource for teenagers" to A sexuality resource for over anxious ESFPs." I loved everything about it. I was even more delighted because the kids I tutor at Slate Canyon call me the 40 Year Old Virgin and I always retort with, "Abstinence rocks!"

If I may share a line from chapter 13: There are many other ways to make love.

"Many sexual experiences can be enjoyed without losing your virginity. These experiences are more pleasurable when both partners understand that they are not intended to stimulate feelings that would lead to intercourse."

So kids, take my advice and heed the 501 reasons to hold off on sex. You'll be happy you did!

Thank you Justin, Mark and Brian.

Rest in Peace Ticka-Ticka

Last night I watched the last episode of Lost. My thoughts after five years of devotion (I say five years, because I started watching Lost partway through the second season. I was out in DC and I watched the whole first season on a video iPod. That's right, I was introduced to Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Locke and everyone else through a 2 1/2 inch LCD screen.):

Above all, I'm sad to see it end. I'm not a fanatic nor did I spend my sleepless nights speculating possible endings to the series, but I have gotten attached to the characters and their story lines. An island full of troubled plane crash survivors with sordid pasts, just makes for excellent TV.

I will miss the social outlet Lost provided me. Even when I watched Lost on my buddy's iPod, I ended up sharing the earphones with someone else at least half of the time. At one point we had four people watching that tiny screen! Since then, I have either rented the DVDs and watched them with friends or I have simply met up with others to watch it air on TV. Not only do we get to watch the show, but we get to talk about it after. I'm all for excuses to get a group of people together and Lost has been that excuse for at least four years.

And last, but not least, I am going to miss Kate. Especially in season four and five when she is off the island and looking really good...

In honor of a show that's had us all on the edge of our seats for the last six years, I include my favorite scene from six seasons.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UALYfVCLlYM

I guess now I'll have to find something else to look forward to every Tuesday night. Any ideas?

The Symbolism of the Solitary Slipper

Monday night, after a rather blustery FHE at Kiwanis Park, I was over at my buddy Mark's house. Several of my other ward friends were there i.e. Tanner, Kylee, Rachi-chi (honorary ward member), Laura and others. We were having a good time talking about yesteryear when Mindy sent me a text saying she had made ice cream and that it was at her house waiting for me (My favorite flavor of ice cream is homemade.). I decided right then and there that I was going to go to her house and I was going to eat that ice cream.

Once I had made the decision to leave, I knew that a goodbye would ensue and that always makes me a little nervous, especially at Mark's because I hate leaving and I hate having to say goodbye to my best friends, even if it is to go eat ice cream with my girlfriend. I started heading for the door and people started saying goodbye. Tanner insisted that I come back with Mindy and probably the ice cream too. I told him I would see what I could do and he then demanded collateral to make sure that I would come back. I simply laughed at the joke and pulled my wallet out in jest, but then I took my shoe off and gave it to him. The adventure factor of it all got the better of me and I drove the 10 minutes to Mindy's without a right shoe.

Needless to say, I didn't end up going back to Mark's that night, but on the ride over to Mindy's I may or may not have gotten a little misty thinking about how good it feels to have someone want you to come back. It's a remarkable feeling...

Yesterday I made my way back to my shoe and picked it up to take it home, but decided to set it back down. The sight of it there alone on the shoe rack in Mark's living room was a symbol to me of "coming back" and I felt taking it home right then would marr that memory. So, to make a long story even longer, the shoe sits alone as a reminder of what it feels like to have friends who want you back.

An Ode to the Dictionary

If you were to ask me what the best birthday present is that I've ever received, I would tell you without hesitation that the Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary from my best friend Phil and his fiancee (at the time), Jenn, was one of the best (if not the best) birthday present I have ever received. "A dictionary?" you ask. Yes, a dictionary.

It all started in the seventh grade when I was herded into the "regular" english class with all of the other students suffering from literary dificiencies. I was never good at writing or vocabulary and I honestly don't remember ever liking English, but after spending some time in class, I felt like I needed more of a challenge. I had my mom talk to the "system" and she managed to get me bumped to the honors class despite my repugnant scores on the English portion of the state exams. I loved my new class and I really started to love words.

In high school, I managed to get a hold of an old collegiate dictionary and would refer to it often at home. I'm guessing that is what gave Phil the first clue. That, and the fact that my dictionary was missing about three pages in the "M" section (drove me crazy).

I bring all of this up because a series of recent events has caused me to think about that dictionary and dictionaries in general. Call it an ode to the dictionary, if you will.

Event #1: The other day I was trying to describe how I felt to a friend and I couldn't come up with the right word. I was hungry, but I wasn't full-blown hungry, I was inbetween slightly and moderately hungry and for the life of me, I couldn't come up with the right descriptive word. It was then that I decided I needed a reverse dictionary. So instead of wondering about a word for a while, I would simply pull up the "I" section and find the reverse definition of "inbetween slightly and moderately."

Event #2: Yesterday morning I opened up my closet to find a slow drip, drip of water from the upstairs toilet conveniently leaking on my favorite suit. I hurried and moved the suit out of the flow along with all of my other clothes in jeopardy of being soiled, but my major concern wasn't saving my clothes, it was finding the right word to describe the water that had a very unpleasant smell. I kept thinking of the word "fetid." I had a somewhat flimsy grasp of its meaning but didn't know for sure until I looked it up later that night in my collegiate dictionary and realized it meant "having a heavy offensive smell."

Event #3: Perhaps spurred by all of the dictionary happenings of the previous days, my dream last night involved a dictionary. It just so happened that in this dream of mine, I dropped my favorite birthday present into the toilet on accident. I was devastated to say the least and I was frantically trying to dry it off without completely ruining it. I'm pretty sure it could have been described as fetid at that point.

I know, I know, a little boring, right? But as a PR person, I love words, I love to write and I love to peruse the dictionary.