David endorses this forwarded email

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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.