Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Life is so much like a haunted hike!

First I want to thank TAMN for saving my Relief Society post by dropping by and announcing the stake tan-a-thon.  Also, I want to thank my BBFF, Lisa for shielding me from public shame and humiliation by commenting 67 times on my Relief Society post and giving me all 3 measly votes on my poll.  

You know what I love about spook-a-ramas (besides the spook and the rama)? The all-you-can-eat-buffet of ghost stories. I love this week-long blog fire we've got burning. So fun to know you've got a place to gather whenever you need to lay down your burdens and your cares and your skepticism and get freaky.   It's a lot like Woodstock--without the nudity (and the music) (and the free love) (cause in real life free love always comes at a price). 

But you know what cracks me up about this contest? People are seriously sending in ghost stories! We were totally joking about this whole blogfire spook-a-rama, but the stories keep coming in.

What I want to know is why do we get chills when we read ghost stories because I seriously got chills reading every single ghost story (except Pat's because I was too busy ROFLOL!)  If you get chills does that mean it's true?  Is there like an UNholy ghost who confirms UNholy truth?

ANYWAY, here's a cute holy haunted story.  Last night our whole neighborhood went on a haunted hike for family night. Our adventurous, party planning neighbors set up the whole thing, and even spent 3 weeks blazing the trail through the jungles behind our house. At first we were all a little jumpy, especially when their dog came bounding out of the trees and pounced on us in a Dracula mask. (I bet they set that up.) But after a while it got almost sweet, especially when all the kids started singing If the Savior Stood Beside Me at the top of their lungs. (Now that is one of the many reasons I love the primary program so much!)

Even though we saw a lot of cockroaches and centipedes and gravestones and a cat refuge camp and tripped over a lot of stumps on the path, I wasn't scared at all because my son was holding my hand and telling me jokes.

(Do you know what has 4 wheels and flies? (A garbage truck) hee hee hee)

And then everyone kept saying, "Watch out! Stump ahead. There's a stump right HERE! Careful not to trip on that stump!"

I thought to myself, life is so much like a haunted hike. As long as you've got people looking out for you and holding your hand and telling you jokes and singing songs about the Savior, it's just not that scary.

But can I tell you something embarrassing? Lately I've been fighting this compulsion to drop in on Sewl and click on her comment box just to see what the word verifier says. I swear the ghost of Yoda lives in that box. It's just like that Magic 8 Ball? You just think of a question and then click on Sewl's comment box and you'll get your answer (sometimes you have to switch the letters around and add a few vowels until you get the answer you want.) It also works the other way around. Click on the comment box first, then figure out the question. 

Do you think ghosts can get vicariously addicted to blogging?

Can I tell you something else embarrassing? I've been thinking about my one and only readers from Provo, Dan and Marci Smyth. I posted a shout out to them on my side-bar and they didn't even notice. You know why? Because they don't really read me. They just pop in once in a while to represent Provo, probably because they don't want me to think Provo is prejudice against Crash Test Dummies. I hate political correctness.

And now my husband is saying Dan and Marci don't count toward my quota because they're only sometimes, semi-regular, every-so-often, when-they're-not-too-busy-with-their-wonderful-life readers. Don't you think it's cute that their family blog is titled Our Wonderful Life and they live in Happy Valley? It's also a bit coincidental because we call our family blog Our Pottersville Life and we live in Paradise.

Now can I tell you something cute.  I'm following the old boat guy's blog.  How cute it that? The old boat guy.  How can you not follow a blog titled the old boat guy?  And the cutest part about the old boat guy is he has no posts at all.  Just a blog.  I have a feeling we can learn a lot from a silent old boat guy.  

Okay, so there are so many things I'm worried about right now.  First I'm worried because I think my next door neighbor is trying to steal my husband.  She says she just wants to borrow him because she needs a tennis husband.  Then she tells the whole world via my comment box that they played doubles together last night, which I didn't even know about.   How embarrassing!  Does that mean I get to steal her husband when I need a handyman husband? (Even if I did steal him, I would never write in her comment box, "oh, btw, did you know your husband fixed my toilet yesterday?")  Then she comes back and tells me she's only using him for tennis and basketball, and I can have him the rest of the time.  Like he's not good enough for her the rest of the time!  

Another thing I'm worried about is my daughter's hoity toity English teacher, Mariko.  She's only 28 and she wears tie-die (SO Woodstock-with-the-free-love).  Plus she says she's all for polygamous relationships, as long as her husband sits by her at the video party.  Then she tells me she's addicted to foodporn (Eww) and T.V. sitcoms on DVD and that high schoolers using adult humor is totally funny.  Now she's saying that she doesn't bring her manual to Relief Society and just pretends to cry at the end of the lesson.  Do you think I should turn her into the principal?   

The thing is, sometimes I don't think people get that I am not a priest and this is not a confessional.

The only good thing about Mariko is she's got my daughter hooked on blogging so now I can call her lame-o and weirdo when she's on the computer like she calls me lame-o and weirdo when I'm on the computer.  

Other stuff I have on my mind is life-goals.  Do you know what my #1 goal in life is? (Don't you hate it when people ask you that, like you care, and then they proceed to tell you, but they never bother to ask you what your life goals are so you finally just hang up on them and pretend you had a bad connection. Bad connections and dead batteries are my 2 favorite things about cell phones (besides the qwerty keyboards).

My number one goal in life is to get my husband to laugh at one of my jokes. Even a smile would make my life complete. The only time he smiles at me is when I'm disrobing in the dark. And the only time he laughs at me is when I'm disrobing in the light. It's not fair because I laugh at him all the time. Not at his jokes, but at his dancing. I think the minute I get a genuine deep belly laugh out of him I'll file for divorce because my work here will be done. Either that or I'll be translated. 

I can't figure out why he doesn't laugh, but I've narrowed it down to two reasons: 1. I'm not that funny. 2. He was born and raised in Provo.

You decide.

BTW, what are your life goals?

P.S. I just went to Sewl's word verifier and asked it why people from Provo don't read me. It spelled: sinnes. If you add an R, it spells sinners. It only took me 8 tries to get that message.  


Kristina P. said...

Does you head ever fall off, with all those thoughts you have rumbling around in there? I mean, don't dummies heads fall off sometimes?

Emily Anne Leyland ( Art-n-Sewl) said...

DUDE-that was a hilarious post. And your verifier says "arting" now that can be taken 2 ways. Either very appropriate for me, or like you say add a letter and that could be farting. I don't fart, so that can't be it. :)

Alyson (New England Living) said...

I think I should be thanked for beefing up your comments in your last post too! Come on, now I'm a 58 year old man living in a cramped, unfinished basement, and I need a little love too!

Seriously though, if your husband doesn't laugh at you, there's something wrong with him because you always get me cracking up!

Your verfication is saying "sastra". With the mood I'm in, I think that stands for "sassy transvestite". Is that what you really are?!

Emily Anne Leyland ( Art-n-Sewl) said...

Ok- I also forgot to say that the hike with one of your boys holding your hand was sooo precious!

Ok- now your verifier says psand.That must be a message for you. I think you need to be careful next time you go to the beach. yuck!

KnightSlayer said...

CTD, I just finished reading your last blog, which turned out not to be your last blog, because when I was done with the comments, this was your last blog. If I could just get past that next level in runescape!

It was good to see Alyson come out of her mom's basement, or at least let us know that she was living there. Being an old man myself, I thought I would confide the fact that I am a secret hip hop blogger with Pat (I know the whole SNL thing is going to come back up isn't it). Anyway, several of us follow you, and loving refer to you as Blog-Master-D. Why, because we are guys, and can't stand the association with words like 'dummy', or 'dummies'. They remind us of childhood bullies. Instead, we meet at the gym and use affirming words like 'champion', 'stud', 'bad-mo-fo', and we love to talk about all the fortune cookies.

So keep laying it down BMD! Peace out!


Emily Anne Leyland ( Art-n-Sewl) said...

Blog Master D...Hee-larious Eric!

Noe your thing says dhouse..hahaha meaning we are up in D's house. Foshizzle-word to your mutha. :)

The Crash Test Dummy said...

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Loving the giggly slumber party with the hip hop vibe going on in here!!!!

And Kristina that's exactly what my husband asks me when I'm laying in bed late at night talking his ear off.

"Dummy" he says "doesn't your head ever fall off with all those thoughts rumbling around in there?"

You're psychic girl. (Notice I said psy chic. That was an accident but I like it.)

And as for the rest of you who are saying things my husband never says (except for the farting, he says that a lot) you guys are tooooo funny. You should all get your own blogs.

How fun to have my own hip hop name at the gym.

I just wish Lisa were here.

Pat said...

I can't believe that I got another mention on your blog.

And Kristina first again. You remind me of the little sister who races ahead of everyone to get the shotgun seat in the car. I may have to try and beat you just once. Although I don't think my chances are very good.

And Eric I don't even know how to hip hop. I am old and funky don't you know. And don't get started on that androgenous Pat thing, I hate that.

bermedly, a lovely medley sung by bears.

Mariko said...

Is it so totally obvious that I want nothing better to do?
I must only correct one detail about your description of me. I want to be in a polyfamily, not a plural wife thing, and still have video nights. But only if I get to choose the movies.
I want to get in on the husband stealer thing if anyone's fixes cars. I have an artist to trade.
Definition: The extra around my middle.

Mariko said...

Oh! And now it says
Who in here is responsible for that T? Sinnes!

Jami said...

Your word verifier says enetere. I'd say that means "in the world."

Jami said...

Catici. My cat is cold?

Jami said...

Excuse me? Sparimp. That's just wrong.

Martha said...

Can inviting you on our "Haunted Hike" count as an entry in your contest? I'm fresh out of scary stories and my back is aching from cutting down trees, and raking, and hitting overheads, and killer serves.

Yes, your husband can play a mean game of tennis and bball, but can he blaze a trail like mine can? I'm not saying yours isn't good enough, I'm just saying we all have our own individual worth and gifts. I appreciate his sports talents because it would be inappropriate to appreciate anything more.

Thanks for appreciating my husband's handyman skills and his aptitude for making trails (you know I didn't want to use the word talent again so I looked it up on the Word thesarus and found aptitude. I wanted to pretend I was clever like the rest of your fan club) it's just that when it comes to tennis and bball, I don't like playing with him.

Jami said...

I hate that number between 12 and 14 (not the infinite ones, just the one that you get when you count by one), so here's a fourteenth comment.

You made that old boat guy up. But I'll secretly follow him just for fun. Sh. Don't tell.

sildsol. Silence--it's loud, dangit! Sing, old lady!

Jami said...

Oops. Took too long pondering the word verification. Make that 15 (and 16).

sprinep: inept in the spring.

Mariko said...

Oh, I totally forgot to tell you that the only reason I haven't voted in your poll is because the choices don't apply. "Yes, because I want to laugh my head off." Vote 1.
Oh #2. You can't say that you have all these great ideas for these food issues and not SHARE them. Do I have to give you points? The kind on Whose Line is it Anyway points? Ok then, I award you 3714 points, because those are all my favorite numbers.
Definition: I am a comment whore.

Funny Farmer said...

What the hay?! I was still over playing on the RS thread and this one was hiding over here and I only just found it this morning!

Really, I think you guys just snuck off to party without me. Thanks. A LOT! Maybe I'll take my fortune cookies and go home!

That'll show them!

So here's my theory on why your husband doesn't laugh at your jokes: He's desensitized. He's so used to your wit that after 20 years it doesn't phase him anymore. And he's heard them all umpteen million times. Or maybe he just decided that you're crazy.

My husband almost never laughs at me either. I think it's just a side effect of knowing someone so well that there aren't many surprises left.

Maybe you need to get boring and sad for awhile and then maybe he'll appreciate you more. Of course the hazard of that is that you'll stay boring and sad... so I take back that recommendation.

Oh and should I be reporting the husband swapping to your bishop? Yikes, people. That's a slippery slope yer walking on there. Complete with STUMPS and everything!

Heidi Ashworth said...

The disrobing comments were pretty darn funny. Maybe you have to be naked? I dunno . . .

Funny Farmer said...

Does that mean Crash is NAKED while posting to her blog!?


I am scarred for life now! Thanks SO much for THAT image, Heidi!


Mariko said...

shut it, that's what it's telling me.
I never laugh at my husband, because he becomes desperately funnier in order to get a laugh out of me. That's my theory for your situation.

Martha said...

I don't think it's your fault that your husband doesn't laugh at you. You are dang funny. Everyone that knows you in real life and blog life thinks so.

Just thinking about his dancing makes me chuckle. I was so disappointed when he wouldn't bust any moves at all at our last neighborhood dance. I think you must have laughed at his dancing one too many times so now he won't do it publicly any more.

Now your son #3(or #2 can't remember who's older) he is a gifted dancer.

The Crash Test Dummy said...

Whoa people! I fall asleep for a little while and Jami turns on the laughing gas and you all start smacking each other with pillows.

Wait for me!

Even my next door neighbor and my daughter's English teacher and my mo fo brother are dang funny on laughing gas!

But Heidi, the nudity is way out of line girl. Hey everybody, Heidi's got a book coming out! Go see her sight.

And Jami, I lOVE That number between 12 and 14. It's my favorite number so you shall have a lucky day.

Martha No, the hike doesn't count, but I'll make you some cupcakes. Some real one. Or I'll just give you back the ones you gave me on Monday.

And YES, Mariko I am a comment whore.

And Lisa, that was rude! (About the naked thing).

The Crash Test Dummy said...

I mean, YES Mariko, YOU are a comment whore.

(That was just a freudian slip the first time I said it).

Cupcakes anyone?

Shelle-BlokThoughts said... deep ya know? Obviously Kristina doesn't know that Crash Test Dummies fall off EVERY DAY at their jobs!!! Crazy...thought she was smarter than that! :)

Funny Farmer said...

First you're whining cuz I wasn't here, then you're complaining that I'm rude.

Make up your mind already!

(LOVE YOU!)(So that makes it not rude, right?)


Laura said...

deb- be worried.. my word verifier says.. "preni" slang for prego? and we both know that can't be a prediction for me... maybe another set of twins in your future?

I love having the word verifier redict our futures.. I think you've hit a new trend!

The Crash Test Dummy said...

Ooops. Did she just say, deb? Who's deb? I think she's on the wrong blog.

The Crash Test Dummy said...

At least Martha can keep a secret! If I was preni I wouldn't tell YOU, Laura! (And that's her REAL name).

The Crash Test Dummy said...

And Shelle, that was a good one! ha ha hah a ha I just got it! Ha hah ahaha

Crash Test Dummy's head fall off every day at their job! ha hah a

Cause that is their job! hahah

Kristina P. said...

Hey, look at me! Getting your comment count up!!!!!

Where's my Hawaii girl been?

Jami said...

Your off writing oldboatman posts, aren't you?

Sumbo-short for somewhere over the rainbow. These are like Rorschach's blots.