the sometimes interesting life of david keithly

David endorses this forwarded email

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 23:13:00 +0000

It doesn't happen very often...but this one made my Friday afternoon:

I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to have fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they've invented the lighter?

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again.

Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

There is a great need for sarcasm font.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what was going on when I first saw it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

Was learning cursive really necessary?

Lol has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

My brother's Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, "Cuz we beat you, and you hate us." Classy, bro.

Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.

MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem....

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

While watching the Olympics, I find myself cheering equally for China and USA. No, I am not of Chinese descent, but I am fairly certain that when Chinese athletes don't win, they are executed.

I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles...

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn't know what do to with it.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cellphone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time...

My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?

It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

Television

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 02:26:00 +0000

Chances are if you married a man, unless he was raised with 9 older sisters, his television viewing tastes are entirely unacceptable. You often ask yourself why God allowed Walker, Texas Ranger to be placed on this earth in the midst of all of his beautiful creations. How many times have you walked in on your man - practically passed out in the middle of enough crumbs and food scraps to feed at least 11 of those starving African children - watching something called Deathwatch Cage Fighting IX - The Bloodiest Bloodbath of Broken Bloody Brains or Bounce House VIII - Bikini Babes Unleashed or (perhaps the worst of all) Sportscenter? I know, the mere thought of that peppy Da na nA, da na NA makes your blood run cold. Why does he watch these horrific shows? Doesn't he know that he could be watching The Real Housewives of Cochabamba Bolivia? Has he ever even watched TLC? I'm sure he'd love So You Think You Can Dance if he would just give it a chance! If you want to continue living with your man and also maintain your sanity, something's gotta give...and we all know that something is him.

So rather than suffering through another playoff game or another Southpark episode, you need to take control and let him know who picks out the pants for him to wear. Try some of these handy tips and you'll never have to watch Spike TV or Versus again.

Step 1. Hide the remote. Turn the TV to your favorite channel (TLC, HGTV, Bravo, Lifetime...) and hide the remote somewhere he'll never think to look - like where you keep the empty trash bags that he can never seem to find after you finally get him to empty the trash. He'll show up, see what's on TV and start looking for the remote. He'll start by checking all the usual places - coffee table, entertainment center, refrigerator...when that doesn't work he'll start digging into couch cushions and throwing pillows out of the way...finally, in desperation, he will actually start overturning furniture as if trying to free a trapped child. Rest assured ladies, the one thing the man will never do is walk up to the TV and change the channel manually (ie: the old fashioned way). There is something in male DNA that will not allow him to do this. He feels it's somehow beneath him...as if ever since man discovered fire, invented the wheel and figured out how to make self-adhesive stamps...he was freed from such menial tasks as changing a channel "by hand". Eventually he will either pass out from exhaustion or simply leave the house to buy another remote control...which is when you need to move on to:

Step 2. Food. Men are simple creatures. Their feeble little minds can only hold so many ideas at one time. When he comes back from Radio Shack with the latest universal remote, you should be waiting with copious amounts of food. If there is enough of it, he won't even notice what's on TV, he won't even know where he is. He'll most likely assume he's slipped into some magical parallel universe where buffalo wings sprout from the table and pizza bagels fall from the sky. And so while he works himself into a food coma, you can relax and enjoy The Bachelor.

Steps 1 and 2 are only temporary fixes. For a long-term solution, you're going to have to bring out the big guns (no, I'm not saying you should shoot him, instead try):

Step 3. The Ultimatum. Sure you resort to this one all the time...but why shouldn't you? It works. What was it that Maslow said? "If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail." It's a simple choice really, he's gonna have to choose between you and his TV viewing habits. Now you need to be careful in how you present these options. If you come right out and say "You have to choose - it's either me or your 52" High Definition Plasma TV"...you may not be entirely satisfied with his answer. If, on the other hand you present these options when it's "business time" (see below) both your television and your man will both soon forget that there ever was such a thing as ESPN.

His Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 23:12:00 +0000

His stuff was nice when you were dating. You wandered through his apartment looking at all the furniture, the little knick-knacks and the "wall-art" thinking - how cute! When you saw his attempts at interior decorating, you felt a little like you'd feel if you happened upon a two-year old trying to dress herself or perform complex mathematical equations - well isn't that just adorable! In fact, the only thing you find more adorable than his early attempts at decorating is the quaint little idea he somehow got stuck in his head that he's going to be able to keep anything he purchased Before Marriage (B.M.). Now that you're living together, you don't want to live in a man-cave. You want doilies and table-runners and pink frilly toilet seat covers made of thick shag carpeting that make it impossible to leave the toilet seat up! But how do you banish everything he ever owned or loved from the B.M. era? I'm glad you asked...

You'll need to start small. If you come right out demanding that he jettison his entire collection of medieval torture devices on display, you're likely to get some push-back. I know you hate them. You need to be patient. The first step of course is identifying which of his items need to be disposed of. No doubt by now you'll realize that I'm joking about the first step - of course all of his things will need to go. If he had interior decorating skills he no doubt would have married another man who also had interior decorating skills.

Some effective methods for the eradication of all he holds dear include:

1. Arson - While this may sound risky, as they say - the ends justify the means. There's nothing like a clean (albeit charred and blackened) slate to start your marriage off on the right foot. Be sure to remove any valuables you don't want entirely destroyed. This method has additional unintended benefits - like pest control and getting rid of any old love letters now that he'll no longer need them.

Pros - no long, drawn out arguments; possible insurance money to buy more pillows.

Cons - prison time.

2. Hide-then-Toss - Practicioners of this method will take a single item and hide it somewhere he'll never think to look (ie: behind the tampons). If he notices that the item is missing, you can pull it out from it's hiding place and say something like "Oh, I just wanted to polish that up for you" or (if he seems particularly suspicious or upset) claim you were "thinking of getting it chromed." More than likely he won't even realize that it's gone (unless it's electronic in which case - good luck). If he doesn't say anything for a month, you're free to throw it away and move onto the next item. While this method can be time-consuming, it's currently being practiced successfully by over 73% of wives according to an independent poll.

Pros - subtle; low risk

Cons - time consuming - especially if he has a good memory or large collections of anything that needs to be disposed of.

3. Blackmail - This one is really easy. "How about this? You can either keep your autographed poster of Steve Young or we can keep having sex on a regular basis. I'll let you decide."

Pros - he can still maintain the illusion that he's in the driver's seat.

Cons - sex on a regular basis.

4. Hypnotism (aka: Jedi Mind Tricks) -

Step 1: Remove Clothes.

Step 2: Tell him what to do.

Step 3: Repeat (as necessary)

*Note - this also works in a variety of other situations.

**Warning - do not attempt while he is driving or operating heavy machinery.

Pros - you can, quite literally, get him to do anything (yes ladies, even housework).

Cons - pregnancy.

If you've had success with these or other methods, please share with the rest of our readers in the comments section.

Pillows

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 05:39:00 +0000

When you're planning the domestication of your man, be sure to start simple. If you start throwing words out like "pillow shams" or "duvet covers" or (heaven forbid) "Ballet Dress Tutu Bow Holders" you're going to scare him off faster than you can say "Pottery Barn". Instead, start slow. Nobody jumps right into heroin use...that's why they invented marijuana (the "gateway drug"). To introduce your man to the world of civilized interior decoration, you need to wean him of his bad habits (ie: everything he's ever known or done up until this point). One relatively painless way to do this is to introduce him to a "gateway decoration".

A successful gateway decoration is something he's already seen, something he knows...even something he thinks he understands. My suggestion: Pillows. Chances are, your man has already developed a relationship with pillows. He's probably already spent a lot of quality time napping on them, fighting with them, throwing them at people and spinning them on his finger. He sees them as a useful tool and an acceptable weapon in civilized encounters. So you make the innocuous suggestion that "maybe a couple of pillows would look nice on the couch"...and if you've done your job and lured him into a false sense of security, he might even agree. "Sure - pillows sound nice" he says picturing future pillow fights and fondly remembering naps.

You start slow - Rome wasn't built in a day...and it probably took a few years (and thousands of dedicated women) before the Roman empire was completely inundated in pillows (which arguably led to its ultimate downfall. 1-2 should do the trick for starters. The trick is you find pillows that are somewhat masculine. If you can find pillows with ninjas on them - it's worth the investment to lull him into that false sense of security (besides, along everything else he loves, you'll be throwing them away soon enough). From here, add a pillow a week - but never more than 1. Alternate between a throw pillow for the couch and a "decorative" pillow for the bed. (***IMPORTANT NOTE*** - BE SURE TO THROW AWAY ANY RECEIPTS FOR PILLOWS YOU BUY. IF YOU KEEP RECEIPTS, WHEN HE FINALLY FIGURES OUT WHAT'S GOING ON, HE MAY DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE SOME BACK. WITHOUT A RECEIPT, YOUR HANDS ARE TIED.)

By the time he gets wise to the plot, there will hardly be a square inch of living space that is not "accented" by a pillow of some sort. And by then it will be too late. And thus we see that by small and supple things are great things brought to pass.

Living With a Girl

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 23:57:00 +0000

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However, if the aforementioned man were made aware of the effect such a wife would have on his "good fortune", not to mention his wardrobe, eating habits, manly decorations, waistline, television watching habits and aspirations to become either a ninja or a professional athlete...it should be fairly easy to convince him that it might be a better idea to be "in want" of something else - like a puppy, or a housekeeper or a rattlesnake. Alas, such a man in the throes of passion would surely ignore any such warnings and continue to skip merrily towards that brave new world of marriage.

They say that before a horse can be of any use, it must be broken. So in order to create something "useful", you must first take this wild creature, with all of its desires, hopes and dreams...and carefully and systematically crush its will. I've often wondered, if the poor beast could talk, what he might say in the midst of this cruel process. I imagine that a broken horse remembers very little about its previous life. A broken horse would have little more than a hazy recollection of hanging with its horse-bros or staying out past 10pm. It has indeed become something new and different...but if we could somehow capture his thoughts before the transformation is complete - what might we learn?

I've been told that the first year of marriage is a lot like that period of horse breaking. This wild creature is taken and confined and then carefully and systematically its will is broken...so that eventually it can be of some use. Right ladies? Spoiler alert: when most women look at potential mates, they're looking for potential - they're not looking for a finished product. In fact, women get the same look in their eye at the sight of an unbroken male that a man might get if he were to find an old broken down '67 stingray for $500. "Wow! This is going to be AMAZING...in four or five years" they both think as they rush to their respective acquisitions. And when the purchase is made and the vows exchanged, the gifts neatly stowed and the thank yous mailed out...when the man and the woman move in together in marital bliss...like a symphony at the first waves of a conductor's hand, the process of breaking begins.

And so I begin my triumphant return to the world of blogging. If anyone is still reading this after many, many months of silence, you're in luck. For the first time in recorded history, you'll get a firsthand look at this process from the perspective of the horse. The beast will open his mouth and speak from this no-man's land - neither completely wild nor completely tame; no longer "free" per se, but not yet broken.

September and Everything After

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 05:55:00 +0000

When you get engaged - so many other aspects of your life get put on hold. Not least among these is blogging - well, at least until you start having children and have nothing better to do than chronicle your life for the entertainment of all of your friends with children and blogs and inordinate amounts of free time.

I apologize for the haitus...and must warn that it will, most likely happen again and again and again...

Also - please don't take this entry as evidence of any pregnancy. We've taken many, often overlapping precautions against such a joyous event. I just wanted to take a moment to catch anyone out there who's still reading up on my life over the past few months.

On September 13th, I took this beautiful girl to the Newport Beach Temple and married her forever.

FYI - they're completely right when they say that this day passes by in the blink of an eye. One minute I'm eating a delicious cinnamon treat with my brother Scot in front of the temple...and then, in a blur of family, friends, pictures, food, and dancing I'm carrying my bride across the threshold of our little 1 bedroom apartment and the thousands of dollars and millions of hours of preparation have cumulated in this new life...which - two months in, I'm still only beginning to comprehend.

We honeymooned in the Dominican Republic - and spent a week doing absolutely nothing...which was fantastic.

And now we're back home and back in the swing of things...getting used to our new ward (FYI - for those of you still in singles' wards - the weirdest thing about going back to a family ward isn't all the children - it's the old people). We're pretty much engrossed in the process of learning how to live with someone of the opposite sex and everything that comes with being married.

In other news - Obama got elected to the presidency. That's right, you heard it here first...tell your friends. I didn't vote for him...but sitting on the couch, listening to his victory speech, I couldn't help but feel some of that excitement. Love him or hate him, he has brought a lot of positive energy into this country at a much needed time. I'm excited to see what he'll do...and while my tone may change in the months and years to come, on 11/4/08, I couldn't help but feel this enormous pride to be an American.

Also - Prop 8 passed. I'll save my commentary on that one for another entry...

More to come in the weeks (but probably the months) to come. I hope you'll all keep checking for updates at least semi-annually. I promise I'll try not to disappoint.

What's new...

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 05:50:00 +0000

Well hello there. You're still coming here, huh? I'll be honest...I don't get you...I mean this kid hasn't posted anything in the past five years or so...and yet here you are sniffing around like a lost puppy looking for home. Seriously...where's the self respect?

So what's new in the sometimes interesting life of David? Well, I'm glad you asked, because there are definitely a few things I've been meaning to tell you about.

First of all, I finally broke down and bought myself a pair of those noise-cancelling headphones. Before you start laughing, let me explain. I was once like you. "How can a mere set of headphones cancel noise? That's just silly...that David's just chasing another fad." I've had some decent headphones in my day and while they've overpowered the noise, there has been no cancellation. Well, brothers and sisters...what can I say? I'm a believer. Pop these bad boys in your ears and it's as if noise ceases to exist. They're magnificent.

Okay, next - you know when you're out shopping and you find an item that screams your name and won't stop screaming until you purchase them? Well friends, I was cruising the aisles of Marshall's recently (oh, come on - don't pretend you've never done it) and in the shoe aisle I found what was for me the holy grail of shoes...that's right folks - white loafers. Now I know what you're saying: "____(fill in the blank with some witty comment worthy of you)_____". But I'm here to tell you that white loafers are the FUTURE...not the past. Trust me on this one, go and buy a pair today. You can thank me later.

Hmmm...what else? Um...well, maybe that's it. I won't bore you with the story of the windshield wiper insert that would not fit (I'm advocating the death penalty for South Coast Acura's entire "Parts" department). So I guess I'll sign off...

Oh wait...

That's right...I knew I was forgetting something - I got engaged.

So in the interest of those of you who haven't yet dragged the story out of me, I've decided to post the details here in two convenient versions (male and female) so that if any of my friends ask me about it, I can direct them to the blog. It's all about efficiency with me kids.

To uphold the ladies' first tradition, I'll start with the female version of the story (fellas - please skip to the end. I'm doing this for your own good):

Twenty seven years and eight months ago I was born to a loving mother and father... Oh, wait...you don't want that much detail? Right, okay.
So a couple of years ago I was dating a girl...let's call her Guadalupe (Lupe for short). Now Guadalupe was a really cool girl, we had a great time together. But, as often happens when relationships don't work out...we broke up.
Fast forward a year and a half or so to the beginning of this year and I got a call from Lupe's brother "Admiral McAwesome". The Admiral asks if I'm dating anyone, and while I'm flattered that he's interested, I'm a bit confused since he's already married to a woman and all... So he continues to tell me about how, back when I was dating his sister, there was this other girl who he really thought that I should date. Odd, I know. So after ensuring that Guadalupe wouldn't be upset, I agreed to the setup.
Enter - logistical problems, schedule conflicts and a boy named "Johnny Idaho" who was kind of busy dating this young lady.
So, a few months later, the stars aligned, Taurus was rising in Leo's third phase (or some other such nonsense) and the blind date was planned an executed.
Now it's been a fun little courtship - the kind where you hang out in the car after dates (the front seat, not the back you perv) and just talk for hours and hours, the kind where you laugh and laugh and cancel your gym membership because hanging with this girl is a better ab workout than anything else you've ever found, the kind where you finally feel that things are "just different"...and for the first time, you know what all those annoying married people meant when they said "You'll just know" or "It'll just feel different".
I knew after about a month that I wanted to marry this girl. I even wrote it in my journal (yeah, I keep one of those too...and no, you can't read it). A month or so after this realization, we talked about it...and I was relieved to find out that she felt the same way. So before rings were bought or questions popped, we started telling the entire world what we'd discovered. To have kept something like that quiet would have been tantamount to finding the cure for cancer and not telling a soul...it just wasn't happening.
But eventually (after just about everyone already knew), a ring was bought and a trip planned to Brazil (in separate transactions). Now, if you ask her today, she'll tell you that she really didn't think that I'd propose there. I'm not sure I believe that...but I love her for lying.
Brazil was a blog entry unto itself. Midway through the trip we went to Iguacu Falls:(not bad, eh?)

We got to a point about here:

And Vanessa started tearing up because "it's just so beautiful" (apparently seeing beautiful things makes women so angry that they burst into tears. It's a natural defense mechanism...if not for the tears, they would burst into flames...the tears are just to keep things under control...but i digress). I've always been told that the best time to propose is when the girl's crying...because the tears actually make the diamond look bigger. So I shakily removed the ring from its strategic hiding place (switzerland) (not really) - my pocket, got down on one knee and (the cameras pan away, the music rises and........magic).

Then some tourists came and took this picture:

Afterwards it rained about 400 kilometers of water on us (Brazil uses the metric system...for you yanks, that's about the equivalent of Lake Powell).

Oh...and she said yes.

And that's that.

Oh...one more thing. I know the women-folk need to see this or I'll be in huge trouble:

This is the actual size (unless you're reading my blog on your phone in which case you must be in a REALLY long line...or perhaps stuck in traffic). Vanessa has very, very large fingers - they're one of the many reasons I love her.

Wow...that was actually much MORE painful and time consuming than I thought it would be...I don't know how you women do it.

Male Version:

So I took her to Brazil and there are these really cool waterfalls there...so when we got there i proposed.

And now finally my mom can find something else to fast for.

Fortune-ately I'm keeping track

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 01:33:00 +0000

Luckily for you, when I eat a fortune cookie, I hang onto that little slip of paper inside. I know, I know...many of you think that's just plain silly. What do those delicious cookies know anyway...right? Wrong.

I'd like to share with you (my diminishing readership) some of the gems that have been hidden away in my wallet until quite recently. You may want to keep reading, after all...some of these may involve you...or someone you know...or me:

YOU OR A CLOSE FRIEND WILL BE MARRIED WITHIN A YEAR
See, I told you you'd want to keep reading. That's right my friends...it might be me...it might be you. It might be any one of my fifty million Mormon friends out there who've actually taken that step within the past three or four weeks. That's the wonderment (yes, that's areal word) of the fortune cookie. Somehow it KNOWS that within the span of a mere 365 days, someone's gonna tie the knot. Magical. Look out ladies, cuz I don't need game when I've got a fortune like that in my back pocket.

YOU DESERVE RESPECT AND WILL GET IT
Damn right I will (sorry for the profanity Mom, but you know how fortune cookie talk gets me riled up). So now that the fortune cookie gods have decreed it, I think it's time you and I came to a mutual understanding of what it means to respect David Keithly. I've taken the liberty of drawing up a short list:
1. It's always appropriate to bow when I enter a room. While I don't expect you to prostrate yourself on the ground (I don't discourage it either), a simple bow from the waist will suffice. Try to pass off a head-nod as a bow and I hope you're feeling brave...and lucky. And I also hope you have a fortune that says something about staring death in the face and walking away...
2. Appropriate titles for David Keithly include (but are not necessarily limited to: my lord, my liege, oh enlightened one, admiral, fantastico, commodore or chuck norris.
3. Friendship dues are due by the first of the month or said friendship will be suspended. No exceptions. No extensions. No refunds.
4. Stay away from my frozen hoho's.

AN OLD FRIEND WILL INTRODUCE YOU TO NEW PEOPLE AND PLEASURES
Here's the homework assignment for this blog entry - if you've known me for longer than 7 months, you'd better get on this one. It's not really up to me HOW you're going to do it...or even WHAT you're going to do. Be creative...and remember that the fortune cookie gods are watching.

AMONG THE LUCKY, YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE
Proof positive:

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 07:53:00 +0000

I like to update my blog at night...generally well past midnight (which is probably the closest I'll ever come to actual intoxication). There's nothing quite like a Dr. Seuss movie (oh yes, I did) and a crepe to make me wax contemplative in the wee hours of the morn'.

These past couple of weeks have been extremely eventful - I met a girl (yay!), separated my shoulder (boo!), my baby sister got married, a good friend "came out" to me and another good friend is tying the knot ten short hours from now (and then there were two).

There are so many fantastic things about meeting someone new. I love the awkwardness of first dates and doorstep scenes. I love knocking on the door for the first time and getting that sudden, gut wrenching feeling that suddenly your skin doesn't fit right. And yes...sometimes it can be exhausting to get to know someone new - to fill them in on all of your quirks and idiosyncrasies...but then sometimes it can feel like you're Columbus stumbling his way onto the American shore for the first time. You wonder - "how could I have lived this long, so close to something this amazing, without ever knowing it?" I love the talking in cars after the dinners or movies, the awkward phone calls where you're never quite sure what to say but still end up talking for hours. Most of all I love the (treacherous?) hope that rises unbidden from somewhere deep within. It's the same hope that robs me of confidence and propels me forward into....?

Shoulders were not meant to be separated...in fact, I've come to believe that shoulders were meant to be left entirely alone. There should be no tearing, dislocating or otherwise misusing this joint unless you plan on never changing clothes, or really ever moving that region of your body, again. But, if you're like me and you do stupid things occasionally and end up messing things up - I would advise you to pray for Vicodin.

The one good thing about separating your shoulder though is that you'll DEFINITELY stand out in your sister's wedding pictures. ("Who's the idiot with the arm brace?") Shortly after said shoulder injury, my baby sister got hitched. For me, the hardest part of the entire process is watching the photo-montage that they put together. You know the one - there's a country song playing in the background while the bride and groom blossom before your eyes blah blah blah. I thought I'd seen enough of these to be forever immuned to their tear-jerking ways...but then I saw my baby sister on the screen. It's different when the little girl on the screen is still a little girl in your mind...when you remember that easter dress or the fabulous 80s hairstyle. It's somehow different when you remember the baby, the little girl, the young woman...and somehow difficult to put all of those memories into the beautiful bride you see dancing with her new partner - and realize that your baby sister is all grown up. I love that little girl, and I'm so proud of what she's grown into.

You're going to have to wait to hear the rest because my Nutella-induced melancholy has faded - but rest assured that the next time sugar and I meet late at night, you'll find our love child in the words of this blog shortly thereafter.

Thoughts, a sad tale and a dash of Shakespeare

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 01:13:00 +0000

I realize that it's been a little while since my last entry...and I have a very good explanation for my absence - I'm a lazy S.O.B. who would rather watch old episodes of "Scrubs" than blog. (For other sad facts about the writer, please visit scotkeithly.blogspot.com and check out the latest post). Also - I don't think I had a single interesting thought during the past couple of weeks...and there's really nothing worse than listening to nonsensical ramblings by those with nothing better to do than rant at the expense of you, the poor, unsuspecting reader (again, see scotkeithly.blogspot.com).

A friend of mine (who, in order to protect myself, will remain nameless) had an interesting experience on Saturday night.

This young lady recently got out of a pretty serious relationship, and has been suffering from the after-shocks of lost love. Luckily, she's a cutie, and the gentlemen (and others) just can't seem to get enough of her...so she hasn't been sitting at home alone on the weekends. She even started moving towards serious with a certain young man. unfortunately, like many of us who have felt the fury of a hot stove...she's afraid of getting burned again, especially with scars that are just now beginning to heal.
So our little friend told semi-serious boy that she wasn't ready for anything REALLY serious...and wanted to date around. He, being a pretty understanding guy, was fine with that as soon as she promised not to kiss any of these others.
But then Saturday night came along (as it tends to do) and with it a smooth young man with a silver tongue and lightning quick texting thumbs. And later on that same evening, our little friend found herself in his sculpted arms.
Unfortunately, chaste reader, we must leave them there...and pick up our tale on the following evening.
Semi-serious boy came to pick up our little friend and spend an enchanting evening by the sea - gazing into each others' eyes and whispering sugar-coated nothings into each others' ears. But the light of the setting sun revealed more than the love in our little friend's eyes...it also revealed a little (actually, quite big) something that the sculpted, silver-tongued young man left behind a few degrees north of her collarbone.
"what's that?" semi-serious asked? and, faithful reader, that was the end of the magic on that fateful evening by the sea.

The next day our little friend lamented her lasciviousness and her loss, but could not (no matter how hard your persistent penman pressed) come up with a reason for her lapse. Instead she bemoaned her semi-beloved's departure and cursed her folly.

When I finally found the fortitude to forego my fit of fun (at our fair little friend's expense), I was reminded of a bit of shakespeare that I had memorized in jr high that seemed particularly fitting under the circumstances. This passage comes from The Rape of Lucrece:

What win I if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?

So enough with the olde english and alliteration. In this passage, Billy explains why so many of us are moral. In the end, who would destroy an entire vine in order to eat one grape? It seems like a foolish thing to do. And while it would be overstatement to accuse our little friend of such a gross misdemeanor, in a small way, that's exactly what she did. And it's the same thing so many of us do so often. We allow ourselves to live so much in the moment that we forget that life is made up of such moments. Life is, in fact, a compilation of millions and millions of moments, the vast majority of which mean almost nothing. But every now and then we come across moments that determine who we are. And in those moments, we simply cannot afford to sell eternity...no matter how shiny the toy.

Remember the time I ate a burrito the size of Cuba?

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 07:40:00 +0000

It's time once again for a few healthy eating tips from David the Dietician!*
(*note - David is not an actual "registered" dietician in the strictest sense of the word [if by "registered" you mean qualified in any way to give dietary advice], but just because he's never taken a dietetics class, read a dietetics book or [if you want to get technical] eaten an entire vegetable, doesn't mean he doesn't know enough about dietetics to have survived to the ripe age of 27. And if that's not enough, his sister is a dietician...and we're pretty sure these kinds of things are genetic.)

People approach me constantly and ask how it is that I maintain my fantastic figure while consuming a diet made up almost entirely of otter pops, corn dogs and Hostess products. They often marvel at the fact that I haven't intentionally consumed a so-called "vitamin" or "mineral" since 1972. I've always been one to give the public what it wants...and so in response to repeated and adamant inquiries, I've compiled this list of David Keithly's Do's and Don'ts of Dining Dietetically:

1. DO freeze your hoho's before eating. In addition to rendering them absolutely DELICIOUS, this quick and easy solution also helps to burn calories. Think about it - what is a calorie (also known as a megawatt)? It's the amount of energy it takes to raise 1 gram of water 1 degree celsius. So, in order to bring the temperature of the hoho up to a digestable level, your body will literally have to use at least (insert large number here) calories. The more you eat, the more calories you burn. Also, the colder the hoho, the more calories you burn. So, if you have one of those industrial strength freezers, or some liquid nitrogen, you can go ahead and throw away that gym pass.

2. DO NOT shop at Trader Joe's...unless you're buying their holiday caramel corn with peppermint and dark chocolate - OR the candy cane oreos. My reasons for a ban on Trader Joe's are almost too numerous to...um...number. For one - only tree-huggers shop at Trader Joe's. Secondly, they no longer carry the sugar-coated dried pineapples that were, for me, the only reason to enter the store outside of the holiday season. Finally - the word "organic" in Navajo actually means "death to the white man"...and while you may think it's worth the risk to go there and buy your vegan pork tenderloin, you'll thank me when the scalping begins.

3. DO skip breakfast. Contrary to popular belief...and the advice of so-called "experts", breakfast not only is the LEAST important meal of the day, it's also the only meal that was actually created by Satan himself. You'll find this somewhere in the Bible. Breakfast has been proven to increase energy levels and brain function early in the morning - and, let's face it - nobody likes a Spunky Sally before noon.

4. DO NOT, under any circumstances, eat mushrooms. Some people might argue that mushrooms are both safe and delicious - but the thing that they're not taking into consideration is that they're idiots. Mushrooms are deadly...I've lost dozens of friends to mushroom attacks in the last year alone. And while we're on the subject - who in their right mind would want to eat something that grows on urine soaked carpet if left untended? This one may require some explanation - back in the 80s (which was a horrible decade, but that's a story for another entry) we lived in a large house on a golf course. Now, because this house was fancy-shmancy, some misguided homebuilder decided to put carpet in the boys bathroom upstairs. With four boys regularly using the bathroom, and two of those boys under the age of 6, let's just say that the collective "aim" of the younger generation still required a bit of honing. As a result, occasionally urine would end up on the aforementioned carpet. One fateful day, I woke up and found my way to the bathroom to get ready for school. When I went to use the facilities, i looked down and saw that mushrooms (similar to the ones you crazies pay good money for at the store) had sprouted from the urine-soaked carpet. Now, I agree that carpet in bathrooms is a bad idea, especially in cases where at least 50% of the end users don't value "aim" - but on that day I learned a valuable lesson: mushrooms show up when your little brothers pee on the carpet. So the next time you're ordering that pizza and you're thinking - "ooh, mushrooms sound good"...I hope you remember this story - and remember that most mushrooms are made up of over 83% urine.

So, until next time - remember: frozen food is ALWAYS better (and better for you)...and beware the Indians at Trader Joe's.

Faith

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 02:07:00 +0000

Since I was a boy, I've believed that my life would end up a certain way. One day I would grow up and when I crossed that threshold into adulthood, there would be certain things just sitting around waiting for me - there would be a great job, a wife, a few kids, a couple of dogs (although I've never been crazy about them), a house with a white picket fence, and all the junk food I could possibly eat. For the longest time, this was more than some ethereal vision of what my life would some day be, I viewed these things with a sense of entitlement that defies comprehension. And yet part of me knew with near-perfect faith, that those things would one day be mine.
Now, had things worked out as I had envisioned, I certainly wouldn't have time to blog - what with all the kids and dogs and picket fences running around causing a ruckus. But since the only thing waiting for me when I crossed that threshold was the nearly unlimited supply of junk food, I find myself wifeless, kidless, dogless, houseless, and fenceless...with plenty of time to blog and plenty of questions about faith that need answering.
See, I always learned that faith meant believing in something you couldn't see that was true. I also learned that God loves all of his children and wants the best for them. So when you add the simplified version of faith with the idea of a loving God, you get my recipe for the ideal adult life. And the best part about it is that all you have to do to make it happen is believe (I feel a Disney song coming on)...and somehow all that belief travels to some metaphysical realm where's it's transformed into tangible reality and delivered back to you with a big red bow. Somehow I made it through quite a lot of my adolescence with this "faith is like an ez-bake oven" theory firmly entrenched in my mind. It wasn't until I grew up and didn't find my perfect life waiting that I really started to question this theory.
Now I realize that there are plenty of problems with the above theory...and I have neither the time, nor the energy to explore each of the many fallacies I happily ignored for all those years. But somewhere along the way, I started to doubt. I doubted my theory. I doubted the premises upon which I had based my theory...and ultimately I found myself in a decidedly unhappy place. I had developed a certain sense of entitlement...and like a spoiled child who doesn't get his way, I felt somehow betrayed when I wasn't given those things I felt entitled to. So there was a lot of complaining and mumuring and listening to whiny music...until I finally realized what it was I'd been missing.
This is extremely simple, but also extremely important, and disturbingly easy to forget or even miss altogether. The reason faith works, and the reason my ez-bake oven analogy didn't is that faith is a principle of action. So faith leads to miracles and all sorts of other fantastic things...and all because ordinary men and women find the courage and tenacity to step out of the realm of belief and into the realm of action.
So here's the moral of the story - the wife, the kids, the dogs, the house, the fence, the job, the candy...they're all out there...they're just waiting for you to stop waiting.

"Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition" - Alexander Smith

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 20:54:00 +0000

I remember one Valentine's day a few years ago when I was still in college. Since I'm a huge slacker, I was single at the time - but rather than sitting at home staring at the walls feeling sorry for myself, I decided to stop being such a bum and bring some Valentine's joy into the lives of some of the single ladies in my ward. I went to Sam's club and bought enough chocolate to feed a small army of single women, and went door to door bestowing boxes of chocolates and reciting poetry - like some strange love child of Cupid and Santa.
And so although it's a little impossible to deliver chocolate via blog - I can continue the tradition with a couple of my favorite poems. So here's a little reason to hope for everyone else who's sitting at home alone tonight...and a little reason to thank God for those who are lucky enough to find themselves in the arms of a lover.

Sonnet CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

--William Shakespeare

And perhaps my all-time favorite poem:

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

-- e. e. cummings

Have a very happy Valentine's Day!

Colorado

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 02:42:00 +0000

I recently spent a few days snowboarding in Colorado. Word to the wise - if you're planning snowboarding for three days in a row, it's a good idea to let your body know what's about to happen. Unfortunately, I gave my body no such warning. Surpringly enough, it's not the best idea to go for three months with your exercise consisting of playing guitar hero on "hard" and then suddenly expect your legs to cooperate on a double black diamond. I praise the heavens for Advil and Ben Gay...and had a fantastic trip! It snowed on the first day we were there so we got to board VAIL with 6-8 inches of fresh powder.

Other than the boarding, I'm going to say that the best part of our trip had to be the hotel room. If you're ever in a town called Frisco, you'll have to check out the Woods Inn. If you're lucky and you slip the receptionist a $20, they just might put you in room 201...and THAT, my friends is where the vacation begins. "I didn't know you could get that much animal hair onto one bedspread," you might say, but I wouldn't worry too much about that, you won't be getting much sleep on the sleep-defying mattress. You'll be thankful that the last guests left some coffee in the cups for you...and for the claustrophobic guest who's afraid of the "cozy" bathroom, they thought of that when they left the "ventilation hole" in the door. The adventure continues with the cable...which works like a dream provided you change the channel every 6.3 seconds...otherwise you may run into some trouble.

Here are a few pictures. We spent a little time in Denver too...but, trust me, you wouldn't want to see pictures of the Denverites. Colorado may have the lowest percentage of obese people (bravo!) but after spending some time there, I'm fairly certain that the ugly stick lives and works (and works hard) in Denver.

Musical Chairs

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 19:27:00 +0000

Do you ever feel like the last person standing when the music stops?

Every year around Christmas time I get together with my high school friends. We had a pretty tight knit group. But as they inevitably do, the winds of life blew in and scattered us like sand across the country. Nowadays I don't get to see them as much as I'd like to - but I know that once a year, we'll get together for one night...and on that one night the years and demands of life melt away like snow smiled upon by the sun...and on that one night, surrounded by babies, wrapped in the blankets of memories - on that night we're friends again.

Haha...this isn't what I was planning on writing at all. I was going to write a funny, whiny diatribe about how all of my high school friends are married with the cutest babies in the history of babies...and then there's me (and Amanda)...but then I started getting all nostalgic and using metaphors...and here we are.

If any of you read this - I love you Amanda, Amanda, Cheryl, DeAnne, Julie, Michael, Micah and Scotty! I can't wait to see you all again next year.

Actual Interview Question

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 23:48:00 +0000

At my work we have this program called The Associates Program (TAP). They work for us for two years and travel all over the world to our different offices working on projects. The recruiters really only go to 6-7 of the top schools to recruit for the position. They look for extremely intelligent people who are good at thinking "outside the box". The recruiters were in Boston recently and asked the following question as part of the written portion of the interview:

You have 8 metal balls in front of you. All appear identical, but one has a manufacturer's defect and weighs slightly more than the other seven. You also have a scale (one of those old school ones that weighs two quantities against each other). Your job is to find the defective ball. You can only use the scale twice. What do you do?

Think you know? Post your answer as a comment.

motorcycles and mothers

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 23:28:00 +0000

moms are funny things...always changing the rules around on you and what not. First it's:
"You're not allowed to buy a motorcycle while you live in my house."
Fair enough, you probably saw this coming anyway...so you move out and go to college. Of course the next time you dare to breach the subject it becomes:
"You're not allowed to buy a motorcycle as long as I'm still paying any of your bills."
That's all fine and good...her money, her rules, right? In the name of speed and coolness, you embrace self-sufficiency. Finally, in the exasperation that only a mother could conjure comes the coup d'etat:
"You're not allowed to buy a motorcycle as long as I'm still your mother."
So you think and you think and you try to come up with some loophole...some way around this wall. And then one day you give up, decide she's outside of her jurisdiction and get one anyway:

Meet my baby. Isn't she beautiful? (I'm talking about the bike boys, not Alexis...we all know she's beautiful...but let's FOCUS here).

So what do you think?

Motorcycles - Thumbs up / Thumbs down?

Oh...and if you don't mind...please don't tell mom.

thus it begins - david jumps on the bandwagon 7 years too late

noreply@blogger.com (david) — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 06:24:00 +0000

Well well well...here we are. in typical david keithly fashion i've decided to join the "cutting edge" of internet fads...seven years too late. i like to think that my reticence in joining the blogosphere was due to the fact that i really couldn't think of a way to use the word "reticence" in a sentence. now that i've used it not only once, but TWICE in the same sentence, i feel i'm ready to join your world.
also, i just got back from a two week trip to australia and needed somewhere to post my pictures. now...if only i can figure out how to get them on here...