Thou Shalt Not Dew It To It

So there was a big hoopla recently about BYU students petitioning for caffeinated sodas on campus.  You can't buy a caffeinated beverage anywhere on campus currently, much to the dismay of many students, faculty and visitors.  When you go to a basketball game and the announcer reads off the sponsors, he won't say Coke, he'll say Caffeine Free Coca-Cola, lest anyone believe that BYU took money from the caffeinated kind of Coke.  That would be scandalous. 

It's not against the rules for students to drink caffeinated sodas, or even bring them on campus.  They just won't sell the drinks to you, which is perfectly within their rights, shortsighted as it may be.  But when BYU spokeswoman Carri Jenkins stated that the school does not sell caffeinated drinks because there has not "been a demand for it," well, that was simply laughable. 

BYU student Skyler Thiot created a Facebook page "BYU for Caffeine" which had over 1700 likes before he removed the page stating that the issue was becoming "too contentious."  In a recent radio interview, DJ's suggested to Skyler that BYU officials must have told him to remove the page.  He wouldn't confirm that, but he wouldn't deny it either, which leads me to believe that "The Heavy" did put some pressure on him to remove it. 

So what's the big deal exactly?  If BYU doesn't want to sell caffeinated drinks, then fine.  Students don't have to attend school there if they don't want to, or they can just drive down to the nearest gas station or grocery store to get their caffeine fix.  But it's silly for a spokesperson to claim that there hasn't been a demand for caffeinated drinks, which just can't be the real reason.  What is the real reason then?  Is it because caffeine drinks are bad for you?  Well, they can't very well say that or else they'd have to stop selling chocolate covered cinnamon bears and their famous mint brownies.  Besides, I'd be willing to bet that the sugar in sodas is way worse for you than the caffeine.  The church doesn't prohibit the consumption of caffeinated sodas, so they can't say that either.  They don't have to give a reason if they don't want to, but don't go making up silly excuses that no one will believe.

The Missionary Training Center in Provo has the same dining services as at BYU, which means that missionaries in training can't buy caffeinated sodas.  While I was there, one missionary received a package containing a 24 pack of real, fully-loaded Coke.  It was amazing how quickly these Cokes became currency, like cigarettes in prison.  Suddenly there were missionaries scrambling to buy Coke from him for $1.00 per can, then $2.00 per can.  One missionary who was short on cash offered to trade his Afterglow cassettes.   

So while we're taking digs at BYU, let's talk about their policy on socks.  They don't have one now, but when I was 11 or 12 years old, my friend and I were kicked out of the Games Center because I was wearing flip flops (with no socks).  Some worker came up to us while we were playing video games and made us leave stating that I was not wearing appropriate footwear.  Perhaps he was afraid that the brazen way in which I was showing off the skin of my feet would cause some BYU co-eds to have evil thoughts.  We'll ignore the fact that there was nary a female to be found playing Spy Hunter or Dig-Dug.  Today the policy is simply that shoes should be worn in all public campus areas.  How progressive of them. 

And how about BYU's facial hair policy?  I've been a goatee wearer for the last 15 years or so.  One time I went to a comedy show on BYU campus and the nice girl who sold us the tickets asked me if I was a student.  When I said no, she said, "Oh, good thing, or you'd have to go shave."  So, that's fine.  My main problem with BYU's facial hair policy is not that they don't allow beards.  My problem is that they do allow mustaches.  I'm sorry, but plain mustaches are just ghastly.  They should have changed that policy when they stopped requiring socks.  We'll also ignore the fact that Brigham Young himself had a nice bushy beard in his day. 

I don't think we'll see BYU lifting their ban on caffeinated sodas anytime in the near future, nor do I think they should be compelled to.  But if you are outraged like I am about how immodest the statue of Chief Massasoit is on BYU campus, then sign the petition by posting a comment here. 

Goodbye Tumbleweeds, Hello Cave Nation

So, Lois and I have lived at my parents' house in Eagle Mountain for over 5 years now.   Mom and Dad have been great to live with.   I think I could count the number of times I've mowed the lawn with my shoes on.   Well, I always mow the lawn with my shoes on.   I just mean that I could count the times on my fingers and wouldn't need my toes.   No, I don't really need my toes to count that high, it's just a silly saying!   Okay, forget it.   I'm saying that Dad almost always mows the lawn.   I guess he figured he can't give me chores to do since I work for Lois now.   We've also had the benefit of Mom and Dad volunteering to tend the boys (for free!) so that we can go out on dates.   It's nice when we can just put the boys to bed and go for a drive, and since Mom and Dad are in the house, we have no qualms about leaving the kids.   And sometimes you're just in the mood for nachos and Mountain Dew, right?

The city of Eagle Mountain is not without its charms.   You know in the old Peanuts cartoons where Snoopy's cousin Spike makes "snowmen" and "Christmas trees" out of tumbleweeds in the desert?   It's kind of like that.   Who wouldn't want to live in a place like that?  

But, the time has come at last for us to bid a fond adieu to the tumbleweed capital of Utah County.   We're moving to American Fork, which my sister Carmela very helpfully pointed out is called "Cave Nation."   I learned this mere hours after closing the deal on the house, so there's no turning back.   Now, I admit that most school mascots are kind of stupid.   I grew up in Orem, home of the Mountain View Bruins.   I was always under the impression that a bruin was a certain type of bear.   But it's not.   It's simply another word for bear.   But it's really not even that.   It came from an old Dutch fable, where the bear was named "Bruin," which is the Dutch word for "brown."   That's just silly.  

But come on, the Cavemen?   How does anyone even pretend that cavemen represent anything that a person would want to emulate?   Cavemen lived in caves because they were too stupid to build their own houses.   Their marriage ceremony involved conking a cavewoman on the head with a club and then dragging her by the hair back to the cave.   Expressions such as "living in a cave" have become cultural metaphors for a modern human who displays traits of extreme ignorance or uncivilized behavior.

Here's one of my favorite Jack Handy Deep Thoughts: I bet when the Neanderthal kids made a snowman, someone would always end up saying, "Don't forget the thick, heavy brows." Then they would all get embarrassed because they remembered they had the big hunky brows too, and they'd get mad and eat the snowman.

So anyway, we're going to live in American Fork, aka "Cave Nation."   When it comes to it, "American Fork" is kind of a silly name for a city too.   It used to be called Lake City, but settlers renamed it in 1860 after the American Fork River that runs through it to avoid confusion with Salt Lake City.   I can see how a caveman might confuse the two.  

We are pretty excited about the new house.   It is a rambler built in 2001 with a fully finished basement and a 3 car garage.   It has 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms upstairs, and 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom downstairs.   There's also a little kitchenette downstairs with a fridge, sink and dining area.  So, I guess if we wanted to, you know, have dinner in the basement or something, it would be that much easier to do it.

Before we knew we would be closing on the house, I booked a trip to DC for work, which is where I am currently.   We didn't want to delay the closing, which was scheduled for the 12th, so I notarized a Power of Attorney document which allowed Lois to sign all of the closing documents.   So while I was eating fish & chips at McGinty's, Lois was buying our house.  

It's all taken care of now, and we're going to move this Saturday.   If you know me and are looking for something to do, feel free to stop by the house to move a few boxes, or maybe a refrigerator or dresser.   We'll get started around 9am.  Also, this Saturday is my Mom's birthday, so there's that too. 

Reading Between the Lies

Kids are not very good at lying, but this is only because they haven't had as many years of practice as their parents.  Parents love to lie to their kids.  Well, let's face it, parents simply love to lie.  But it's so much more fun when someone believes you, so we tell the lies to the most gullible people we know.

Parent: You better be good because Santa is watching and if you're bad you'll get nothing but a lump of coal in your stocking.
Kid:  What's coal?
Parent: I meant bologna loaf.
Kid: Eeew!  No!

Parent: If you leave your tooth under your pillow, the Tooth Fairy will come at night and leave you a quarter.
Kid: My friend Amber said the Tooth Fairy left her a dollar!
Parent: Amber is a liar.

Kid: Why can't I have Dr. Pepper?
Mom: It's bad for you.
Kid: Then why does Dad drink it?
Dad: It's only bad for kids.  Now finish your McNuggets.   


When Buzz was three, we were on a long flight to Kansas to visit Lois's parents.  Buzz kept getting out of his seat and wouldn't hold still.  Finally I whispered to him (so Lois couldn't hear), "If you don't stay in your seat, the pilot is going to come back here and yell at you."  We didn't have any more trouble with him the rest of the flight. 

Lois's uncle, Dr. Teeth, is an orthodontist.  At a family reunion a few months ago, he told all of the kids that if you don't brush your teeth, bacteria will get in your mouth and eat the food left on your teeth.  What happens after you eat?  That's right, you poop.  And where do you think the bacteria will poop?  That's right, IN YOUR MOUTH!  For all I know, this is actually true, but I don't care because whenever Buzz or Rocky give us any trouble about brushing, all we have to do is remind them of what Uncle Dr. Teeth said. 

So we shouldn't be all that surprised when our kids start to invent falsehoods of their own.  Has your kid ever told you that he hasn't been in the chocolate stash when there are tell-tale signs all over his face?  A while ago I caught Rocky with his finger in his nose.  I said, "Don't, Rocky."  His reply, "I wasn't!"
"You weren't what?"
"I wasn't picking my nose." 
"Who said anything about picking your nose?"
"...Well, I wasn't."

A lot of times, my kids know when I'm full of it.
"Dad, what are you drinking?"
"Broccoli juice.  It's really good.  Do you want some?"
"No it isn't, it's Dr. Pepper!"

"Dad, are you eating chocolate?"
"No, I'm chewing tobacco."
"What?!"
"Oh, I mean, I'm eating broccoli."
"It smells like chocolate."
"Huh.  That's weird."  

Studies have shown that it is the intelligent kids who are the most effective at lying because it takes a strong intellect to recognize the truth and then invent a plausible alternate reality.  So think about that the next time your kid lies to you.  And if they're not lying to you, that just means they're smarter than you are and you haven't figured it out yet.

What Spews Forth

My brother Fritz pointed out to me that it has been over six months since my last post.  He apparently thought that six months was a long time.  It's all a matter of perspective, though.  I mean, if we're talking about how often I shave, then yes, I suppose some people would say that six months is a long time.  But if we're talking about how often I shave my legs, then I think six months is just about right, right?

Anyway, I really just haven't come up with a lot of good material lately (and if I have any readers left, you can submit suggestions to rob@robfromreality.com.  I might even read them!).  Usually something random pops into my brain, and then it starts writing itself. So I figured I'd just start typing and we'll see if what spews forth ends up being funny.  Spew is kind of a funny word, right?  Maybe I could just make a list of funny words.

Spew
Pants
Gazump
Burrito
Gordita
Chalupa
Taco 12 Pack
Slobberknocker

Hmm... my list seems to have morphed into the Taco Bell menu.  Isn't that just the typical way of things? 

I suppose I should address the rather large elephant in the room and tell you how things went with my attempt at Veganism.  I am afraid that I did not successfully stay meat free for the full 40 days.  My downfall was cheating during my trip to DC.  Once I again tasted shrimp, chicken and beef (and I think an ostrich burger came into play too), there was just no going back.  And cheese, oh wonderful cheese.  There just weren't enough reasons left that I could think of to continue on with the experiment.  I did manage to stay away from Dr. Pepper for about 2 months, and I also managed somehow to get rid of the extra pounds that gradually snuck up on me since high school.  I suppose my body was afraid I might subject it to more tofu, collared greens, and flax seed.  But anyway, I am now once again happily eating food that once walked and frolicked and had parents.  And odds are that I probably ate their parents, too.  Mmm... tasty, tasty parents.

Lois, of course, is still faithfully eating only things which sprang forth from the ground.  I thought she was nearly cured when she mistook mustard greens for kale and had a very nasty green smoothie one morning (I mean, nastier than usual).  But no, she threw out the smoothie, used the remaining mustard greens in a miso soup, and right now she's probably happily crunching away on a raw zucchini.  And I am dying to try this braised partridge recipe I just found. 

And another thing:

Glabella
Bloviate
Hemidemisemiquaver
Widdershins
Shneee
Flink
Skullduggery
Hoi Polloi

More Rob to Hate Less

I’ve always been a skinny guy, despite the fact that I make no efforts to watch what I eat, and I rarely exercise on purpose.  It has amused me over the last 10 years or so to be able to declare that I weigh the same as I did in high school.  For some reason, the people I say this to don’t often seem to appreciate how awesome this is.  In fact, more often than not their response has been, “I hate you, Rob,” or, “You suck, Rob,” or, “Stop posting your pie recipes on my weight loss blog, Rob.”  I really don’t understand people sometimes.  

Lois and I took Buzz and Rocky the other day to the Museum of Ancient Life at Thanksgiving Point.  They have a large platform scale, big enough for around 10 people to stand on at once and it will tell you which dinosaur you weigh the same as.  When I stepped on with Rocky, I was mildly surprised to discover that we tipped the scale to 210 pounds, which was only 30 pounds short of the Herrerasaurus.  Rocky doesn’t look like he weighs 60 pounds, but he is rather tall for a three year old.  What has Lois been feeding him anyway?  Rocky quickly got bored of standing on the platform for some reason, so he ran off to growl at a nearby Gargoyleosaurus.  This is where I went from mildly surprised to “What the…buh, wha?!?”.  The needle should have gone below Protoceratops (158 pounds), but it stopped well above him and was getting rather cozier than I thought appropriate with Tanycolagreus  (180 pounds).  

This cannot be.  I weigh the same as I did in high school, but I didn’t weigh 170 in high school.  The large bold letters in the middle of the scale proclaiming, “No Springs – Honest Weight” suddenly took on a mocking tone, which I found rather annoying.  

How did this happen?  Has the Pastrami Burger finally turned on me?  Or is it the fries?  Surely not my Westerner sandwich?  Yes, it has two meats, but how can something as delicious as beef brisket with Polish sausage be bad for you?  The whole thing is really a mystery.  Lois thinks I put too much cheese on my omelets, but I’d like to see you make a seven egg omelet with less than half a pound of cheese.  Sure you could do it, but then you might as well just give it to the dog, and why are you making omelets for your dog anyway?  But the most important question is, why do all my pants still fit?  

Okay, I suppose I’m not getting any younger, and I may have developed one or two bad eating habits.  But I really like my eating habits, which sounds a lot like eating rabbits and now I really want some hasenpfeffer.   Argh, no!  I think it may be time to go cold turkey, which also sounds really delicious, especially if it were on an onion roll with swiss cheese, mayo and mustard.  And some pastrami.  Gah!  This is not helping, and I could really go for two or three helpings right about now.  

My calendar says that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, which is the beginning of Lent which, according to my limited understanding of Catholic customs, is a tradition in which you choose a bad habit to give up for 40 days.  Then, I suppose at the end of the 40 days it’s party time again.  I’m not currently Catholic, but perhaps I could give this Lent thing a try.  Lois’s crazy Vegan diet is supposed to make people lose 10 pounds within the first three weeks.  I’m not going to be a Vegan, because we all know that Vegans are, I say, crazy.  But I’m going to act like a Vegan for 40 days starting tomorrow.  It will definitely be a challenge, but I suspect the crazy will find me after just a few days, and I’m counting on that to keep me going for the duration. 

This means no meat and no dairy.  And apparently, no Dr. Pepper.  I very patiently explained to Lois that there’s not a trace of meat or dairy in Dr. Pepper, and it even has real juice in it (somewhere).  But no, she insists that while not technically forbidden under the Vegan by-laws, sodas and anything with refined sugar are on the naughty list if I really intend to make this experiment work.   She also says that I should put in some exercise while I’m at it, but this is where I remind you that Lois is a Vegan and, therefore, crazy.  

I am going to allow myself to cheat a little bit.  I’m going to be traveling on business for a few days later this month and my company pays for my meals when I travel.  And well, when The Man is picking up the check, I’m having prime rib and lobster and I don’t care who knows it.  And probably cheesecake.  And while I’m cheating anyway, I find that a nice Dr. Pepper pairs well with those particular culinary items.  

Aside from that, I fully expect to make it through without even a… hang on, I just remembered that I still have some gruyere in the fridge.  It’s not quite midnight yet… time enough for a grilled cheese.  Hmm, I don’t think I can make it in time if I go out for a Dr. Pepper run.  Well, it’ll still be Tuesday somewhere by the time I get back.  Bye. 

Just when you think you know someone

After 11 years of marriage, Lois and I have gotten to know each other pretty well. I know that Lois likes her chocolate dark, her movies romantic, and the heat set to 72 degrees. I also know that when I get home from work, if I sneak up quietly to the room she’s in and then yell, “RAWR!” that it will scare the absolute bejeebers out of her, and I will be in trouble for anywhere from 1-3 hours.

One thing I did not know about Lois, however, something that she definitely did not disclose during our courtship and revealed only recently, was that she is a vegan. This came as quite a surprise to me. She hid it so well over the years, and I don’t know what she did with all that meat and dairy that I was sure she was eating.

Lois claims that she wasn’t a vegan before and only decided recently to try it out for a while. How does that even work? Maybe I’ll “decide” to try out having O positive blood for a while. Or maybe I'll “decide” that my astrological sign will be Virgo instead of Libra. And maybe I could just “decide” that I’m going to be a Democrat instead of a Republican. Balderdash.

Luckily Lois does not insist that the rest of us participate in the odd rituals associated with being a vegan, like the consumption of the green smoothie each morning. I don’t know what all she puts in there, but I know it includes copious amounts of spinach, a frozen banana, and a vile weed called kale. She claims that it is delicious, but she is a vegan after all, so I don’t know why I should believe anything she says.

About a year ago Lois’s sister, Chloe, had her wedding rehearsal dinner at a very nice Thai restaurant. Rather than ordering from a menu, the restaurant staff would regularly bring out various dishes and we would help ourselves. Some of Chloe’s friends from New York had flown in for the occasion, many of whom are vegetarians. They were all sequestered to a specific table so the staff could make sure to get the appropriate dishes to them. I remember how relieved I was not to be sharing the table with them. Not just because I’d have to eat their food, but because vegetarians are just weird, man. What do you even talk about with a vegetarian? And what if they tried to convert me? Would they be offended at how prominent my canine teeth are?

Without being overbearing, Lois has undoubtedly hoped that her new “healthy” lifestyle would rub off on me. On the contrary, however, for each healthy change Lois makes, I find myself needing to keep things balanced. When she ate only a salad for dinner the other night, I was compelled to make a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich to go along with my meatball sub. When she checked out Vegan Planet: 400 irresistible recipes with fantastic flavors from home and around the world from the library, I checked out Man Eats Man: the story of cannibalism. And for every batch of vegan cupcakes Lois makes, I shoot one of the neighborhood cats. Granted, I was going to do that last one anyway, so…

I'm not really sure how long Lois is going to keep this up.  I've been trying to entice her back to carnivorism, but subtlety isn't really my strong point.  If anything, the gusto with which I devoured that brace of pheasants the other night seems to have made her retreat even farther into her devotion to veganism.  In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have butchered them in the kitchen while Lois was hosting her book club in the next room.  And perhaps I should have taken more care to avoid getting blood on her Flirty apron.  On the plus side, as long as she remains vegan, that means more dark chocolate for me. 

The Laws of Gravity and Karma

If you don’t know me and you look over at my photo to the left, you’re probably thinking, “Now there is one good looking guy who is probably awesome at sports.” Well you’re half right, but let’s just say that Lois didn’t marry me for my athletic abilities. Considering the sedentary lifestyle I lead and my special diet of trans fats and red meat, I should weigh 400 pounds and ride a Rascal Scooter to commute from the buffet to the soda fountain. But I don’t. The only plausible explanation I can think of is that I must have two metabolisms. It probably happened during a freak lightning storm sometime in the 80’s. You scientists should really look into that.

When the guys want to get together for some basketball, or football, or volcano boarding, I always have an excuse ready. “Sorry, I gave blood today and they took an extra half-pint.” Or, “I was up all last night writing my thesis.” Or, “I’m allergic to magma.” It’s easy to get out of doing things that will make me not be in a sitting position.

But when my buddies Slim and Chaos asked me if I wanted to go biking down the mountain at Sundance, I didn’t even hesitate to say, “Heck yeah!” This, I thought, was the sport for me. You get to ride up on the ski lift and then ride down the mountain on trails. There is beautiful fall weather and scenery, the lift does all the work getting you up, and gravity does all the work getting you down. What could be easier? I shall now pause here while those of you with at least a Payson education laugh at my naïveté (for those of you from Payson, that means I’m dumb).

Slim is in marketing and Chaos is a corporate attorney. These are guys who spend about as much time sitting at their desks as I do. Surely the HR guy (that’s me) should be able to keep up with them and show them a thing or two.

When we get to the top of the mountain Chaos asks Buff Dude, who is working the lift, which trail is the best. We take Buff Dude’s trail and I quickly learn several things: (1) gravity is quite a powerful force; (2) mountains often have cliffs; (3) I am the slow kid in the group; and (4) when you want to know which is the best trail, instead of asking Buff Dude with the No Fear t-shirt, you might be better off with advice from Skinny Girl with the Justin Bieber t-shirt.

Being the slow kid gave me the advantage of not having my spectacular wipe-out witnessed by my companions. I did, however, perform this feat just as the trail went below the ski lift, and was regaled with the applause of my loving audience. I quickly picked up my bike (originally christened “Silver Bullet,” but now affectionately known as “Mule”), took my bows and then proceeded to fight against Gravity once again as he made his vigorous attempt to catch me up to Slim and Chaos.

The three of us had paid for a full half day of “see if you can hurl yourself down a mountain while balancing on a two-wheeled transport without swearing aloud.” A quarter of the way down on the first ride, I felt as though I had already had more than my money’s worth, so I started to contrive reasons of why I should focus my efforts on conquering the gift shop since Slim and Chaos seemed to have the mountain conquering gig pretty well under control. Somehow I was unable to think of any acceptable excuses, so I found myself back on the lift making the slow, scenic trip to the top of the Mountain of Affliction and Agony. And then, inexplicably, again for the third time.

I have no problem admitting that I gleaned quite a lot of satisfaction when I learned that Slim and Chaos also crashed. Too bad I was too far behind to witness their tumbles, but the scrapes and bruises I could see on them were some comfort.

When I arrived back home, I decided that I would act heroic and not show any signs of having been pummeled. But then I realized that acting tough doesn’t really do anything for you when your audience (Lois, in this case) has no idea that you were pummeled in the first place. As far as she knew, a ride down the mountain was like riding around the park a few times, and why did I come home so sweaty?

In retrospect, I should have known I was out of my element when the Sundance clerk wanted us to sign a release of liability. Chaos had said that the release couldn’t stop us from suing if we were injured. This should have been another red flag for me, but I figured it was just another one of those things lawyers are always saying so that we don’t accidentally forget that they’re lawyers. Plus, I had been a little preoccupied trying to figure out why there was a “karma jar” near the register.

So the next time you find yourself doing something that requires you to sign a release of liability, I highly recommend that you don’t forget to put a little something in the karma jar. And take about 2000mg of ibuprofen.