Unintentional Comedian, in which, well, You'll See

Setting: Our Kitchen. Jack and Morgan are sitting at the table playing, I'm at the sink, and Josh is following me every step as he is wont to do when he is eager for me to play a video game with him.

Josh: Dad, are you done cleaning the kitchen yet?
Me: Not yet buddy.
Josh: How much do you have left? Just wiping off the table?
Me: And all these dishes.
Josh (observing the sink full of dishes): It would go faster with two people.
Me: Yeah, it would.
Josh: Why don't you ask Morgan to help you?
Me: Ha!
Josh: What? You should ask Morgan.

Naivete, in which I read some Journal Entries from 15 year old me

And I quote, "I found out Cheryl and Jeanette have something against guys. We've got just one track minds. That may be true, but my track isn't that bad. Is music really that bad a thing to always be thinking about no matter what? I don't think so."

Um, no wonder girls felt safe around me as a teenager.

Return for a Day, in which I just had to Blog about it

Yesterday at work (at Seagull Book, you know, a Mormon book store), my coworker was ringing up an elderly (read: at least 80 years old) woman. The woman was writing a check and suddenly said, "Well, I just f--ked that up." I looked at my coworker, but didn't catch her eye, then I looked at other customers but no one would make eye contact with me.

I guess we all knew that if we caught each others eye, we just might laugh.

One Short of 250, in which I sort of Retire the Blog

The majority of my not-so-frequent posts on this blog of late have been less than 140 characters. Do you realize what this means?

I've been twitterized. Anything I have to say can probably be said in a tweet.

So let it be written.

So let it be done.

http://twitter.com/holdinator

My place, in which Josh once again Puts Me

"Daddy, stop trying to pretend to be funny."

Getting Really Excited, in which we Blog about BYU Football

Or mostly this. As a freshman at BYU, the biggest news story of the year was this. You need to read the whole thing.

I looked for reaction to this story, and came across this.

And this.

Here's one of my favorites.

Another.

But the best reaction by far came in my Gospel and Christian History class, in which the late Professor Paul Peterson apologized one day to the class by saying, "I'm sorry. I'm a bit discombobulated today, you see, I was hit by a flying tortilla on the way to class." When a student asked him if it hurt, he answered, "Well, it would have hurt an ordinary man."

Bring on football season.

Another Conversation, in Which Josh said:

"Dad, they lie what they say about Reeses Puffs. They say that when you eat them, amazing things happen. I ate them once, and nothing cool happened."

BRT, in which we Have This Conversation:

Me: I broke a drum stick.
Elder Holdaway: Huh?
Me: I broke a drum stick. Playing the drums. The boys asked me to play the Power Rangers theme song, so I did, and I broke a drum stick.
Elder Holdaway: But I thought you hadn't played drums in two years.
Me: I hadn't, but then on a whim I set up my drums and, well, there you go. By the way, I had totally forgotten how it feels to break a stick. It's really satisfying.
Elder Holdaway: Everyone always said I played too loud, or too hard.
Me: Or too fast?
Elder Holdaway: Yeah! Or too fast.
Me: I still do.
Elder Holdaway: Good. Good for you.

Dad, in which We Honor Him

Soon enough, Elder Holdaway will make another appearance, and we'll chat.

But today, with Father's Day being tomorrow, this:

"They broke my watch."

"Who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips!"

"Uh, Bob, uh, I think we've got a little problem."

"Are you the police?" "No, ma'am, we're musicians."

"You got my cheeze whiz, boy?"

"Hi, uh, what car number are we?" "Five five" "Car fifty-five, um, we're in a truck."

"This is glue. Strong stuff."

"I've always loved you."

"There's a lot of space in this mall."

"Four fried chickens, and a Coke."

"It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." "Hit it."

"Jake, Jake, I gotta pull over."

Ten Years Old, in which I Finally Found It

I vividly remember the BYU Bookstore, and this cassette tape, it was white, and had only one song. At ten years old, I was absolutely obsessed with BYU Football (not much has changed in twenty years), and this was one of the greatest things I had ever found.

But I lost the tape. I haven't heard the song in fifteen years, at least. But then last night, after numerous attempts to do so, I finally found it.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and indeed girls, I give you Ty Power!!

It's Hot, in which Elder Holdaway and I talk about it

Elder Holdaway: What are you wearing?
Me: I'm in my own house.
Elder Holdaway: Yeah, but what if someone comes over?
Me: I'd change before I answer the door.
Elder Holdaway: Oh, good. That's better than nothing.
Me: (smiling) Yeah it is. You're thinking about Brother G and Brother H in Lansing South?
Elder Holdaway: Yes! They are endowed members of the church! And they just hang out with their families with no shirts on! That's so weird.
Me: Meh. You're 19 years old and weigh 145 pounds. In ten years you'll be 55 pounds heavier, and your threshold for tolerating heat will have dropped a lot. You'll have a little bit more empathy for Brothers G and H.
Elder Holdaway: Uh. Whatever.
Me: Oh, that reminds me, have you lost your keys in ...
Elder Holdaway: The naked man's couch?! Yes! Now that guy was, uh ...
Me: Totally uncalled for. What about Josh? Have you met him yet?
Elder Holdaway: Josh?
Me: No, huh? I'll just say this, don't take it personally when he's offended that you won't let him take you to Hell.
Elder Holdaway: (Looking perplexed)
Me: Think about it. Enjoy everything about Jackson; you'll miss it when you leave.

Slighted, in Which A Commercial is Created

You know those NBA commercials, the ones where they use sound bites from players' interviews to create a song? You know how there are never any Jazz players featured in those commercials, save for brief visual clips?

We (Jess and I) came up with an idea for the Jazz to duplicate those commercials on their own.

The sound bites could all come from last night's game, and wouldn't feature interviews with current active players, but instead would feature (mostly) Matt Harpring's color commentary.

Picture an assortment of clips of amazing plays put to a hip hop beat with these "lyrics":

Harpring: That was a good foul. A good foul. Not silly. They have to avoid the silly fouls...

Avoid the silly... the silly... avoid the silly fouls.

Ron Boone: Just look for the orange shoes.

Harpring: They're yellow.

Boone: Are they yellow?

Harpring: They're yellow.

Boone: Look for the orange... the orange shoes.

Harpring: Avoid the silly... they're yellow... yellow.

Pace Mannion: He has to do something offensively... He has to... He has to... offensively... He has to do something offensively.

Harpring: Now that one was a silly foul... silly... silly... He fell right on him bum... Now that was a silly foul... on his bum... avoid the silly fouls.

Jazz Links, in which I link to one thing and mention two others

First of all, according to nba.com, the greatest play of the 2009-2010 season ...

Was this.

Second of all, both Bill Simmons and John Hollinger have the Jazz beating, not only the Nuggets in the first round, but the Lakers in the second round, and then losing to the Suns in the Western Conference finals.

(Both also base their predictions on the Jazz getting Andrei back--dang it!)

I'm Just Saying: in which I could be as Handy as Handy Manny

If I had tools that did all the work for me.

I'm Serious! in which Joshua is not pleased when I laugh at things he says

I hate having fights with Josh. It's just not a pleasant thing. If there is one positive that comes of it, though, it is the opportunity afterward to have an open and honest discussion about what happened.

Which inspired this exchange:

Josh: When I lose my temper, I get grounded from things, like the Wii and TV.
Me: Mm-hm.
Josh: But when you lose your temper, you don't get grounded, and that's not fair.
Me: What do you think I should be grounded from?
Josh: I don't know, like maybe doing laundry.

Dear Annie, in which I write a letter to our dog

Whatever instinct it is that drives you to roll in your own poop, I urge you to resist it.

Thank you,

Your Faithful (though grossed out) owner

Pricing, in which we undercover our home's value

Or at least some parts of the home.

It appears that our front door costs 100 cents. This is according to a little piece of paper that was taped to it, presumably by a budding five-year-old appraiser.

If we ever sell the house, I hope the back door is worth a little more.

Existentialism II in which Elder Holdaway Agrees to another Conversation

Brian: Dude! You've got to see this!
Elder Holdaway: What is it?
Brian: It's from a kids' show; this is the kind of stuff my kids watch on TV.
Elder Holdaway: Ooh! Is it Cartoon Planet?
Brian: Nope. Better.
Elder Holdaway: Better than Cartoon Planet? How is that possible? What? Do you like Johnny Bravo more now? Or the Power Puff Girls?
Brian: Just watch.
Elder Holdaway: Oh ... my ... That was AWESOME!!!
Brian: I thought you'd like it.
Elder Holdaway: Maybe you're not so weird after all.

Old Man, in which Holdinator blogs about ...

Mix tapes.

Do you remember mix tapes? Like when you would spent an entire afternoon making a mix tape for your friend of your favorite songs? Or when you would make a mix tape for driving, and you would listen to it every time you drove your car for the next six months?

This was a very involved process. You had to sort through your CD collection, and pick out which CD's you wanted to use, then you would have to put them in your stereo individually, go to the song you want to record, and press play on the CD and record on the tape deck at the same time. Getting the right amount of time in between songs was crucial.

You would develop this very intimate connection to the mix tape, because you listened to every song all the way through as you were recording it. And that was awesome. You were experiencing, for the first time, the feel and the personality of that tape. Whether for you or someone else, that tape meant a lot.

I think the last mix tape I made was one for Jess, when we were dating, in 2002.

Now we make playlists on iTunes. Very cool technology, but you don't know how it's going to sound until it's playing on your iPod and then you can skip through songs, or have them play randomly. And playlists can be hours long with nearly unlimited songs.

With mix tapes, you had 60, maybe 90, minutes of music, and you listened to every song all the way through, because if you tried to fast forward through a song, you might miss some of the next song, which was one that you really liked, and you'd have to rewind then.

And you loved every song on those tapes. And life was good.

Representation, in which we do our taxes

Tonight is my annual spend-more-time-on-the-computer-than-any-other-time-during-the-year night.

Turbo Tax is a wonderful product.

Go over there, in which we link to a really good blog

If you consider yourself to be among the sometimes-tortured Utah Jazz fan base, then do yourself a favor and read this.

Sports Nerd, in which Holdinator writes this post:

The Jazz won. Hooray! They didn't give up a gimme to the worst team in the NBA. Maybe they really have turned a corner. (I hope I hope I hope I hope)

BYU's basketball team is 20-1. Jimmer Fredette is a machine!

The Colt's have a chance to go to the super bowl, and all they have to do is beat the Jets. They can do it. Only 4 hours until the game starts.

Aaaaaand, I'm a dork.

Joshyism, in which I was corrected thusly:

"Superman doesn't use his super speed to eat fast, he uses his super speed to defeat villains."

Remember back then, when I said that I wanted to be a life coach?

Me neither.

Actually I do. But that's because I write this dang thing.

Anyway, I just came from a website of a life coach and read up on the fees she charges....

$500.00 a (!!!!) month!

For one client.

"Ok, suck that air in, now blow it out. That's right, that's how you live."

Dude. I really do need to be a life coach.That, or the Jazz should have signed me to be their thirteenth player. Seriously, I would be happy to go to all the games, wear a suit, and sit behind the players' bench.

Oh, and get paid whatever the lowest salary is for an NBA player who never plays.

(i.e. much more than I get paid now)