Sometimes I just think things that make me laugh. Today, I'm sharing some recent ones with you. If you get bored and quit reading, that's OK. Everyone else, read on. Please bear in mind that some facts have been stretched to fit. It's my artistic license, and officer, I was only doing like 80.
The picture at the first was just to peak your curiosity. Did it work?
CHANGING THE ROLL
Students have busy lives. But not too busy for some things. You wanna know one of my peeves? I get irked when someone gets a new roll of toilet paper and doesn’t put it on the dispenser. What’s the deal?
I guarantee you, there were a few moments where you just sat there staring at that empty cardboard tube.
You couldn’t change it? Really?
Maybe you just couldn’t figure it out. That springy roll holder shaft thing, yeah. It sort of boggles the mind. It’s long, then it’s short. It’s out, now it’s in. It's a mysterious object. It’s off-the-hook.
One time I found the new roll just sitting on the floor next to the toilet. This is not good. There’s a reason for the dispenser being mounted above the toilet ground-level. It’s similar to the reason for wearing a raincoat if you’re in the first six rows at Sea World.
It's also dangerous to place the roll on the back tank of the toiler. It makes me nervous for the same reason mothers don't let their toddlers get too close to the edge of a swimming pool.
You’re never too busy to change the roll out, folks. Even if you are up ‘til 3am tryin’ to figure out the little springy shaft, it will be well worth your time.
I think parents should really be more picky about who they have watch their kids. What happened to all the choosy moms? Are they all out shopping for peanut butter?
A lot of parents just call up the first little young woman on the ward list.
That’s terrible logic. That’s like the same logic used in a really bad last-minute group date idea:
“Hey, man. Wanna join us for this group date?”
“Well, I sort of need a date.”
“Oh, we got one for ya.”
“Oh, ok. That works. As long as she is a single female that is going on the group date, that pretty much satisfies my criteria.”
You could end up with anyone from any stretch of the spectrum, psycho to sane, homely to handsome. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not leave my options to random chance.
I think these potential babysitters should be screened somehow. Of course, the parents probably already know the girls in their ward, but they should take it to the next level. What kind of special talents or skills do these girls have? What will they bring to our organization? I would seriously ask my kids, “What do you guys want in a babysitter?”
“Sarah, I’m sorry but you can’t be our babysitter. Our kids want somebody who can do tricks on the trampoline. We’ve seen your performance, and it’s just not what they’re looking for. We'll call you if we change our minds, thanks."
I think it would be really cool if you could find a babysitter who talked entirely in movie quotes. Can you imagine that? This person could entertain the kids for hours. They’d be the ultimate babysitter, hands-down.
One of the kids keeps fighting with his siblings, the babysitter goes MATRIX Reloaded–Agent Smith:
“Why, Timmy, why? Why? Why do you do it? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you are fighting for something for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know?”
“Why, Timmy, why? Why do you persist?”
Timmy’s like, “Because I choose to.” And that would satisfy the babysitter and Timmy could go on fighting.
Ever since I had this idea for a movie-quote babysitter, I actually watch movies with this in mind. Any good lines in here I could use on some kids later? Next time you watch a movie, try it. It's great fun.
I have a sister who’s just 4 years younger than me. She’s so cool. We have really similar taste in a lot of ways, so we always really mesh well. But there’s one thing we disagree on: ENYA. She can’t stand ENYA!
I’m not lying. I promise. I saw a few heads jerk up when I said that, like “Honor code! He just told a lie!”
She can’t stand ENYA. I was like, why?
It’s ENYA! She’s like this immortal fair good thing, probably not even human anymore. She has transcended our realm with her transcendent sounds. It’s probably where she got her name. It’s no longer her human name, it is ENYA. I imagine the waiting room outside of heaven. They aren’t playing ENYA. She’s performing there, live. It’s ENYA eternally LIVE!
I mean, you might as well not like Santa Claus. He’s nothing short of pure goodness! I mean, how can you not like ENYA???
It’s an absurd notion. The thought makes reason stare …whatever that means. It’s in one of our hymns, right? Oh My Father. Have you ever sat there in church with nothing but a hymnbook to entertain you?
The thought makes reason stare. Have you ever tried to picture that scene?
Like, what, it gives reason a blonde moment? Reason is just starin’ out into space?
I guess. I’d like the Joseph Smith Translation of that one. That thought is makin’ me stare.
Anyway, ENYA. She’s good. The first time through the Fellowship of the Rings movie, I was just loving that they had ENYA sing in some of the Elvish scenes. It was perfect. And I was happy.
But then I watched it over and over. I’ve got a nerd-addiction to it, ok? After watchin’ it a few times, I was like, Peter Jackson, what’s Liv Tyler doing playing Arwen? Are you crazy? You’ve got ENYA’s voice, it should be ENYA kissing Aragorn up there. What the Hobbit are you thinking?
So for the past few years, I’ve done this thing for my family at Christmas. I make a mix CD of Christmas music. I have this huge collection of the coolest Christmas music. So I keep collecting it, and every year, I give ‘em all a little taste of the best stuff. Well, I made all these CDs and gave them to my family members. My sister immediately opened it and put it in her player. And a few songs down the road, I realize …there’s some ENYA on this. Oops. But fortunately, she said that after listening to it a few times, it was growing on her.
Thank goodness. There is hope for my sister. By small and simple means, great music can come to pass.
Maybe she just has some negative association when it comes to ENYA. Like maybe she had a really creepy teacher in high school who looked like her or sang their lectures in Elvish.
“It’s some form of Elvish! I can’t read it. There are few who can.”
I should be the movie-quoting babysitter.
I know a few things about negative associations with music. Here’s the deal: about 70% of classic rock sounds like garbage to me.
Not my fault! I mean, there are some phenomenal classic rock artists, and I love them. But they only make up about 30% of the whole genre. This is due to a negative association.
I would go with my dad to haul garbage to the city dump, and it was a dirty, nasty place. There was garbage everywhere, it smelled like garbage, and the workers looked like they were trying to blend in with their surroundings. Their clothes were like garbage camo.
The workers had salvaged some old ghetto radio from the garbage that had a static sound coming out of one speaker. They always had it tuned to the local classic rock station.
For that reason, I can’t hear Credence Clearwater Revival without thinking of disgusting garbage.
It’s not their fault, they just sound like trash.
I donate plasma. I do, I’m not afraid. I was. I used to be super-afraid. You could even say I was mega-afraid. Blood, needles, …they just didn’t make me smile. I couldn’t turn my frown upside-down when I got poked.
But after a long time, I talked myself into conquering that fear. It wasn’t easy, but after a few times of donating plasma, I realized it wasn’t bad at all. It just took some getting used to. Now I get 50 extra bucks a week for sitting and watching movies. It’s kind of like babysitting, without the children.
I have a friend who gave me the perfect analogy for when you’re getting a needle in the arm. He said, “Just don’t think of it as a needle. Needles are small and painful. This thing is more like a sharpened straw. It’s just like pokin’ your Capri Sun.”
Wow. I don’t know if I can ever look at Capri Sun the same way again. I’ll be trying to console the little juice box and gently patting him to try and calm him before I jab the straw in.
(Here's where artistic license is used. A little. I don't know how my Mom feels about my plasma donating, and she was really good about the whole pre-mission medical stuff. Love you Mom!)
But I’m pretty sure my Mom is scared for me donating twice a week all the time. Most parents are. She’s really good-natured about letting me do what I choose, now that I’m a big boy.
But here’s what I don’t get: she’s worried about me donating plasma, but she had no problem with them jabbing me with all sorts of crazy needles to get ready for my mission.
Oh my gosh. It was like, ok Steve, we’re going to make sure you are vaccinated for every disease known to man, and then test your blood a few times to make sure we put enough medicine in it. So many shots! The doctor was pretty much running out of needles. He had to have a nurse go grab another case in the middle of it all.
I was not happy. I was barely hangin’ in there, looking pretty pale.
The doctor looked up at my mom, like “Do you think we should let him have a break, you could come back another day to finish up?”
“Naw… keep goin’. He’s fine.”
“But ma’am, he’s sobbing like a little girl…”
And then when they were taking blood samples, honestly, it got a little creepy. The first vial was full and the doctor leaves with it and then he comes back with another empty vial and wants to fill it. I mean, wasn’t one enough? Here he is, licking his lips and filling another! Ok, it’s not a Big Gulp, Dr. Cullen! No re-fills! I kind of need that stuff. I know you think it tastes like Cherry Coke, but c’mon.”
For those of you who endured to the end, bravo. You've been a great audience.