Extreme Extremism (or how to love)

I forgot to tell you the funniest part about my daughter's homecoming date. It wasn't the chastity belt, or even the piano belt. It was an incident which occurred while they were taking pictures at the public park across the street from the temple.

Suddenly a guy jumps out at them and starts yelling that they are trespassing. I mean he's really letting them have it. Freaking out, as my 15-year-old son would say. He paid $500 to reserve the entire park for a wedding reception so he tells them at the top of his lungs that if they want to pay him $500, they can take all the pictures they want.

Then he pushes the photographer and threatens to call the proper authorities.

Which. he. does.

Wouldn't you know it, the police actually arrive on the scene and start questioning the photographer. He had to fill out a report and everything.

Imagine the poor cop who took that call. "Mr. Policeman, sir. I'd like to report four teenagers in Sunday best trying to take adorable photos in the public park. Could you please come and arrest them ASAP! Before they get away with it."

But my daughter, through it all, found a way to say what she needed to say.

Bless her li'l subversive heart.

You probably don't get that do you? Raise your hand if you get that? You're too young to understand the subtle innuendo, huh?

First person who gets that I'll send you a Jamba Juice. Hopefully you don't live in Florida or something because it might be melted by the time it arrives. I hear Florida's hot like that.

Okay, I'll give you a clue. Two words. First word. Sounds like Potter. Only it's not spelled like Potter. It's the stuff that came out of the drain when my laundry room flooded last night.

Second word. Sounds like late. As in, I was up late last night because my laundry room flooded.

Now put it together . . . Potter . . . late. Potterlate.

You still don't get it do you?

Okay, last clue.

Now you're laughing, huh?

Me neither. But mostly because my laundry room is flooded.

You know when I lived in Hawaii I only feared one thing--besides racism and socialism and my kids being killed on Kam Highway--and that was skin-cancerism. Now that I live in Utah I'm afeared of many things. Underground pornism, blind perfectionism and culturally-induced depressionism, to name a few. I'm also afeared of women who look like they've been sucking on lemons or playing with Barbies. And of teenagers who only group date. And of adults who alert the proper authorities because they don't want to share the public park.

Come to think of it, I'm only afeared of one thing--extreme extremism.

In Hawaii that photographer probably would have been beaten to a pulp, or vice versa, without the proper authorities ever being alerted. (Especially if one of them was a "stupid haole" (I would add a URL link to that quote, but all the Urban Dictionary definitions include swear words.)

Or if the proper authorities had been alerted, they probably wouldn't have showed up.

Case in point. You get me?

You know what I'm most afeared of in Utah? Extreme happiness. Did you guys see that Acappella group from BYU on The Sing Off last night?

They say they want to conquer the world with happiness. YIKES! Is that a scary thought or what? I'm worried that outsiders are going to get the wrong idea about Mormons. What if they think we want to force everyone at gunpoint to smile from ear to ear? Not all Mormons want to impose their happiness on others like that.

It's just too bad the miserable Mormons aren't ever represented on t.v. The ones who didn't score a 32 on their ACT.

Isn't there an accapella group somewhere in Utah made up of those who failed their AP exams and who single dated in high school? Exclusively?

I would like to see those BYU singers sing about something that really happens for once. I mean, fer reals, no one jumps, jives or wails when it hails anymore. I want to hear them sing something by Lil' Wayne. Something like How to Love. Even extremely happy Mormons are trying to figure that out.

Am I right? Or am I right?

What not to wear

Well for starters, if you're a dog, please don't wear a chastity belt when my daughter's homecoming date comes to pick her up.

My daughter made this very clear. Several times. And by that I mean, she made it VERY VERY clear. In no uncertain terms.

In other words, she felt exceedingly strong about not wanting her date to see anything resembling this upon his arrival:

But poor Lulu is in heat right now so I insisted that her chastity belt remain intact. (I just have this thing about morally clean dogs.) However, I did oblige my daughter by chaining Lulu up behind the house for the big arrival.

Then my daughter started in on my son who was mowing the lawn. "Put a shirt on!" she called to him from the kitchen door. "Or at least take your necklace off so you don't look like a gangsta rapper!"

Then she noticed my hub's t-shirt, which, heaven help him, he somehow keeps finding at the bottom of his drawer in the pile marked, "Emergency use only."

"Honey, please!" I said. "PLEASE change your shirt. We want to make a good impression now don't we?"

"Yes, we do mom," my daughter jumped in. "So you need to change your shirt too."

Hmmph!

Once we were all sufficiently dressed, or chained up behind the house, her date arrived and we learned what you can wear.

A piano belt. And suspenders. Suspenders are all the rage this year. I don't know if piano belts are all the rage, but I didn't hear my daughter ask her date to change so I'm assuming it is socially acceptable attire to meet the rents.

So while we were taking photographic evidence of her date's piano belt, Lulu began making a joyful noise from behind the house. It sounded something like "Hey, I want to see the piano belt too!"

I ignored it, but I guess my hub didn't get the fervent memo about chastity belts as opposed to piano belts, or maybe he wanted to give an object lesson, but unwittingly or not, he let Lulu off her chain.

Oh my! What happened next happened in super slow/fast motion.

Lulu came bounding towards my daughter's date, diaper and all, and you should have seen my daughter's face . . .

Her date, who's favorite movie happens to be Nacho Libre (he now has permission to marry my daughter (as long as he doesn't wear his piano belt to the wedding)) thought it was heeelarious, but my poor daughter could not stay in super model character after that.



Although I think she and her date would make surprisingly good animatronic-car-models.


I must say she looked loverly riding off into the sunset in that sleek black Lexus.



As did her date.

Long live the queen!

Ah heck, they all just looked loverly.



The End.

P.S.

I did her hair my very own self, btw.


But I can't take credit for her eyelashes.

Those were a genetic mutation.

(Either that or a gift from the Barbie Doll gods.)

The power of a loser

I have, as of late, been checking off a few items from my bucket list.

Since I already got a dog--check, and bought a house--check, I am on to making other dreams come true. Namely, climbing a hay bale, and yelling yeeeeehaaaw! Always wanted to do that. At least since last march.

See I pass huge hay bales every day when I'm out in the middle of nowhere taking Lulu to run in the fields, and yesterday I finally decided to carpe diem! (Minus the yeeeehaw!)

(Baby steps, peeps.)

Instead I climbed that bale of hay, stretched out on my back and thanked gad I'mma country girl.

I didn't used to be a country girl, I used to be a city snob, but heaven help me, I'm becoming the opposite of everything I used to be.

Old age is a bugger like that.

Another thing I've always wanted to do is go back to bed after I send my kids off to school. Yesterday I also made that dream come true. I planned on sleeping until the holy cows came home, but I woke up at 1o with a sudden urge to water my plants.

(Don't you hate it when that happens?)

Please refrain from spreading rumors that the dummy is depressed. I know that laying on hay bales and sleeping till 10 sounds suspicous, but I was just recooping. Too much 9/11 footage for my stone cold heart. Plus I saw Planet of the Apes last weekend. Nothing breaks my heart like a misunderstood monkey. Especially a smart misunderstood monkey.

Seriously, that monkey had my eyeballs sweatin' to the oldies.

Yesterday my daughter checked something off her bucket list too. She split sets at her tennis match against one of the best players in the region. (Martha, you would have been so dang proud!) What that means is both players won a set, taking the match into a third set. My daughter ended up losing the match, but she won a set.

A WHOLE SET!

And she made that girl beat her in three sets.

Just goes to show you that in every loss there can be found a small victory if you put a fancy spin on it.

The whole match kinda helped me forget about that smart monkey for a minute because the thing about best players is they think they're all that. And the thing about playing for a losing team is that best players treat you as if you have a big L on your forehead.

I say never underestimate the power of a loser!

Don't ask me why, but for some reason I love to watch losers make best players squirm.

Is that sacrelig?

It's just so entertaining the things best players do when they start squirming. Things like calling for their entourage to come and massage their legs and heat their shins. Or accusing us of coaching our daughter from the sidelines, even though we are clearly wearing muzzles.

Not complaining though. It's all just part of the game. See the golden rule in tennis is, "Do unto others, before others can do unto you."

He who rattles first, rattles last.

Unless the loser rallies back.

Rally back, losers! Rally back!

SuWeeeet!

A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs a little mulch of letters and phone calls and small, silly presents every so often - just to save it from drying out completely. --Pam Brown


MAHALO to my twin's lifelong ex-door neighbor besties, Jimmy and Nana (who also happen to be twins) for keeping the friendship alive with this birthday package to my twins. They were SOOOO excited!



Everyone was fighting over everything!

And Nana, this picture poem made us--as my daughter would say--smile and be happy!

How cute is that?

Hip hip hooray for friendship that never dies!

P.S. Martha, I found the letter and will drop it in the mail first thing in the morning.