Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Year End Stats

Since none of our roommates are aware of the existence of this blog, we had to be extremely subtle in our fact finding expedition. Luckily, 2am to 4am every single day is usually reserved for the five of us sitting in our basement... discussing our lives, school, work, girls, and church. Lately, we've been using this time to gather the following information.

We are men, and because we are men, we like statistics. Statistics tell stories. Here is our story for 2009.

  • Credit Hours Completed
00 - Aaron
24 - Calvin
15 - Jake
00 - Nick
08 - Lance
  • Mustaches grown to fullness
00 - Aaron
01 - Calvin
00 - Jake
04 - Nick
00 - Lance
  • Months without doing dishes
00 - Aaron
03 - Calvin
06 - Jake
02 - Nick
01 - Lance
  • Make-outs
18 - Aaron
08 - Calvin
05 - Jake
04 - Nick
22 - Lance

  • Horizontal Make-outs
18 - Aaron
08 - Calvin

05 - Jake

04 - Nick

22 - Lance

  • Relationships longer than 1 month...
01 - Aaron
04 - Calvin
02 - Jake
00 - Nick
00 - Lance
  • ...2 months...
01 - Aaron
03 - Calvin
01 - Jake
  • ...3 months...
01 - Aaron
01 - Calvin
01 - Jake
  • ...4 months...
01 - Aaron
  • Pairs of shoes worn
27 - Aaron
03 - Calvin
08 - Jake
15 - Nick
24 - Lance
  • Number of Different Temples attended
05 - Aaron
03 - Calvin
02 - Jake
11 - Nick
00 - Lance

  • Dated/Kissed a Midget
Nick (since 4'11" is the max height of a legal midget)

  • Owned the most cell phones
Lance (9)

  • Got the most # of girls to pay for dinner
Aaron (15)

  • Kissed the most girls in a 24-hour period
Aaron (3)

  • Most tow trucks/broken down vehicle incidents
Jake (8)

  • Had the Largest Quantity of Food Stolen by Roommates
Calvin (59)


  • Blog Numbers
40 - Percent of readers who think Calvin is a woman.
7 - Months blog has been in existence.
7 - Number of people who know we write MBP.
5 - Number of people we wish didn't know we write MBP.
  • Things MBP takes credit for
0 - Baptisms resulting from reading/commenting on MBP
0 - Marriages
resulting from reading/commenting on MBP
4 - Friendships born due to the existence of the MBP

  • Random Facts
5 - Fans we've been tempted to reveal our identities to in order to date them.

0 - Number of fans we've revealed our identities to in order to date them.

Happy New Year
Jake & Calvin

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Muscle Mass

I hope everyone had a great Christmas. I know I did. Jake and I are putting together a couple of joint posts that will be going up around the new year. You know... reflecting on 2009 a little bit and maybe setting some goals for 2010. If I could write a New Year's resolution for my roommates, it would be "Stop drinking Calvin's Monster Energy Drinks unless I want to tuck $2.50 under his pillow every time I steal one." Savages.

Jake and Lisa have been getting pretty serious lately and it's pretty depressing for me. I've always kind of thought I'd be the first one to get married out of all of our roommates. I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because I'm the least social person in our house so the thought of my roomies getting married one by one scares me too much. I'd be miserable if I had to take a shovel with a bow on it to four more weddings. I'd die a little bit inside each time. Then when I read Jake's post about possibly moving away with Lisa... Criminy! So, I've set a goal to point out at least one Lisa Sanders Flaw everyday to Jake. I've told him this, as well, so it's not going to be any huge shock. The first flaw I pointed out is that she doesn't know my middle name. Pshhhh. How can she expect to marry my best friend if she doesn't know anything about me? What will she yell out the sliding door when I'm misbehaving? "Calvin... uhhhhh... YOU. Jake's best friend! Get in here and eat your dinner!"

I've also been encouraging him to snog a bunch of hotties that have been coming over to our house lately. He hasn't slipped yet, but Tiffany is cool enough that I could probably just ask her outright if she'd do it. Ok... Jake will read that and know what I'm up to, but honestly... it won't matter. If Tiffany throws herself at him, I'm sure he'd cave. If Lisa and Jake are truly meant to be, then none of my clever ploys will work, right? It will only make them stronger as a couple. Oh man that sucks to even type. "Couple".

I'm still dating Marie. It's going pretty well. In the beginning I wasn't sure if she was going to turn into a NCMO, but she's pretty fun to be around. She's pretty short, but she has the perfect body type... at least for me. And she is an awesome kisser. When we're horizontal, she prefers the bottom, which is fine with me. I like to be in control. I feel like I'm not as good a kisser when the girl is trying to impress me with her kissing technique. Just sit back and let me do the work. You just focus on exercising restraint and don't be doing any disrobing. Enjoy my magic.

Saturday night, we were rolling around pretty good and at one point, I had to pull myself up a little bit with my arms to get a little more comfortable. Marie gasped a little bit and I thought for a second that I'd done something to hurt her. I said, "Uh oh. What's wrong? What did I do?" She sighed and said, "Nothing. I just can't believe how muscley your arms are." She was rubbing her hands down the backs of both of my upper arms. I'm not the most muscular guy, by any means... but I have always had very well-defined biceps and triceps. I'm just lacking in the pectoral area. (Blast!) No girl has ever noticed before, though. The fact that Marie noticed was pretty awesome. It was pretty arousing to have a girl compliment me so sincerely on one of my physical attributes. Usually it's, "You're so funny" or "You're so sweet" or even "You're such a great listener" (actually, I'm just trying to get to a point in our relationship that you'll let me tuck your hair behind your ear, whisper something awesome that I memorized Mr. Darcy say in Pride and Prejudice and subsequently pounce on your woman-ness).

This morning, however, as I was reliving the sweetness that was Marie's compliment, something hit me. Marie seemed genuinely shocked at the definition in my arms. Did that mean she had little to no expectation of any sort of muscle mass... at all? Should that offend me? Do I really appear to be that void of anything resembling strength? I mean, the stamina is present... Marie knows that... but what about strength?

I may have to stage an arm-wrestling competition with the roomies and make sure they let me win. Not easy wins, mind you. That would look fake. EARNED victories are better. I'll propose it to them and maybe we can all take advantage by inviting different love interests over on different days and then letting the fancying roommate be the one who wins.

Genius, Calvin. Genius.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Christmas Ratings

Several people have told us that they don't see a way that this whole rating thing could ever work out in our favor. Some have even theorized that our public ratings could backfire and result in suicides, natural disasters, and even dry ice bombs on our porch. But the bottom line is, we told everyone we'd honestly rate any girl who requested it. We've had 18 people request to be rated... publicly.

The ratings may seem harsh at first, but remember to refer to the LOS often. A girl should be flattered if she receives a rating of "LOS 6"... unless, of course, she's been under the misguided impression that she's a 9. (Note: You might be a 9 on someone else's scale, but we are bound by the criteria outlined on our own LOS and you will be rated accordingly.)

Also for all of you who did not request a public rating or any rating at all please note that the following message was sent to each girl: (-Each of us will choose a picture from your pictures available on facebook that we feel best portrays our rating of you.
-We may be extra critical or complimentary for this post. Our rating will be accurate and honest. Our comments about your appearance may come across mean, rude, heartless, shallow, superficial, or insensitive. If this is going to be a serious problem for you, cause you unnecessary stress, low self esteem, or drama, please cancel your request to be rated.) All of these girls are very cool for allowing this rating for YOUR entertainment. Clearly they do not take themselves too seriously and we suspect they all score major points on the OS. Thank you ladies, it has been a pleasure.

So without further delay, our ratings in the order the requests were received.

age: 19 height: 5'6"
Las Vegas, NV
JAKE: 6.5
Definitely above average. As I scrolled through your photos, I noticed that there weren't very many pictures where it looks like you're trying to look cute. But in the few photos where you look like you tried, you were quite attractive. You're like Rachel Leigh Cook in She's All That. I also thought you were more attractive in the pictures where you were laughing. Laugh more... for me.

Even though I like the librarian look with your glasses, you should lose the flannel in all your pics. Delete all of of the photo's where you're wearing long sleeve, flannel shirts. I love your skin. That is all.

Percentage of accuracy: 80%

age: 22 height: 5'9"
Ogden, UT
I like freckles. I like your whole face, and you are the perfect height. It's not that I don't like short hair, but I don't like the way your short hair frames your face. I think you're cute, but your short hair distracts me from the rest of you.

Um... hello! This is a pretty rockin' body. It might be the angle, though. For all I know, you could be "hippy", but based on this photo and several others found on Facebook, I think you're pretty good looking. You also have several "party" pictures, which for some reason adds to your attractiveness for me. Even though it shouldn't, cause I'm Mormon and everything. But Jake is right. You should do something about that hair. Grow it out or cut it off or something.

Percentage of accuracy: 80%

age: 20 height: 5'3"
Pleasant Grove, UT
I'm not sure if "curvy" is offensive to you, but I have to say that most of your photos make you look "curvy". That's bad for some guys, but not to me. I prefer girls that won't blow away if they adjust their standing room fan to 'medium'. You might be pissed that I'm describing you as "curvy", but you shouldn't be. Don't tell your dad I said that. If we ever meet at Lagoon-a-Beach or something, I'd buy you a tube so we could ride the OutRigger together. It wouldn't be a double tube, though, cause I'd still want to tip you over.

To be honest, I started lower... just from the first few pictures. But you have a lot of pictures and the more I saw, the cuter you got. Definitely a really nice smile, but I would probably rate you higher if you were a little thinner. Your rating went up after watching your videos. Seeing you in motion was much better than the photos.

Percentage of Accuracy: 91%

age: 18 height: 5'8"
Provo, UT
JAKE: 5.5
I really like your eyes and smile and chin. I think if you lost 30 lbs it would bump you up a lot. That 30 lbs wouldn’t keep me from wanting to roll around with you, though, as you have a bit of a Kristen Stewart look to you with similar bucked teeth that I think is really cute. Generally, I’m a sucker for the brown skinned but you pull off pasty really well.

I'm just not feeling it, Brooke. For some reason, I think that you'd be pretty awesome to get all horizontal with... probably because you have some pretty killer dance moves on the video's on Facebook. You'd be a NCMO for me... and probably one of my funner ones. Even though after my rating, I'm pretty sure I've lost any chance at a horizontal NCMO with you anyway.

Percentage of Accuracy: 91%

age: 19 height: 5'7"
Las Vegas, NV
I imagine the first time we meet you would say, “Uh Jake, my eyes are up here.” Because you would notice me staring at your neck and collar bone with fantasies of wetting them with kisses running through my head. You have a great body, please never get a boob job. If you already have one, nice job on proportions. I don’t dig the boy haircut but I barely notice it because I’m still staring at your neck. I want to rate you higher because I know you like Calvin better… but that would make me a tool. Which I am not.

You are the one, single exception to my "curvy" preference. I've chatted with you a couple of times so I had to try really hard to separate the OS from the LOS. I think my rating is pretty honest. I like the short hair and I have no doubts that we would get along regardless of whether we're vertical or horizontal. I admit, though, that I'd probably take you to breakfast, lunch, and dinner at places that serve very fattening foods... with hopes of beefing you up a bit.

Percentage of Accuracy: 84%

age: 19 height: 5'6"
Moses Lake, WA
Kayla… will you marry me. Unless you are completely stuck on your pretty self, are fairly stupid, or have false teeth I could be very happy with you. You smoke. Nice bum… (sigh) and other stuff.

Crap. I tried to rate you lower, but my fingers wouldn't let me. I really hope you're stupid or shallow or something... cause if you're cool and funny and don't have a wiener, then I think you may have it all. Except me. I'll bet you suck in the sack. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. If you were eating a Rootbeer Dum-Dum and got kinda sick of it, I'd probably finish eating it without rinsing it off or anything.

Percentage of Accuracy: 88%

age: 19 height: 5'9"
Pearl City, HI
I like your tan skin. I like your hair. I like your bikini photos. I like your Facebook videos. You might be an 8 if you weren't waiting for a missionary. Just knowing that makes me hurt inside. If we were on a camping trip or something and you forgot your toothbrush, I would not hesitate to let you borrow mine. I'd even let you brush your teeth first.

I like your lips, and it’s true… I want to kiss them. There is nothing really unattractive about you but nothing has me just hoping you’ll take your clothes off either. Love the lips, lets kiss sometime.

Percentage of Accuracy: 90%

age: 22 height: 5'7"
Ogden, UT
The first thing I said to Calvin was, “Whoa, chicks got a huge mouth!” Not a bad thing, and when you're smiling, it’s very sincere. Your hair is the perfect shade of red for me. I think redheads shy away from showing too much skin because 'white' is not cool, but you’ve got a great body. Show it. Show it to me (in a way that wont get either of us in the bishops office.)

Too skinny for me. Gain about 20 or 30 pounds and then let's get together and go bowling or something. I'll even give you $10 in quarters to play that claw game that is usually so weak it won't even pick up a cottonball. You can win me a stuffed animal and then I'll show you my calves and maybe you'll be impressed enough to want to roll around for a while.

Percentage of Accuracy: 68%

age: 19 height: 5'6"
Layton, UT
I got dibs. You're definitely the hottest in your group of friends. Your arms are like twigs, though, and you're butt-less. C'mon. Go on a mission or something so you can gain some weight.

You are cute, and I would very much add you to my dating pool based off looks alone. Your hair is middle curly, not as cute as really curly and not as cute as wavy. You have a square face, nothing wrong with that, it just doesn’t force me to think about us spending the morning under the covers and having the opportunity to lovingly give you a “covered wagon”. I still want to, though.

Percentage of Accuracy: 88%

age: 26 height: 5'5"
American Fork, UT
JAKE: 7.5
When we make out I will definitely creepily keep my eyes open just on the off chance you occasionally open yours, because your eyes are amazing. Your face as a whole is awesome, awesome. You’re cute, buuut... would it be bad for me to ask you to hook me up with your friend Michelle Ortega? She's pretty fly!

I probably would have rated you higher, except I stumbled across your blog post when you didn't have any make-up on. Normally, I'm a fan of the natural look, but that was not a flattering photo. It was so unflattering, I refuse to post it on our blog. If we ever get together for any length of time, I'll pay for you to get your makeup tattooed on. That said... you're still out of my league... even first thing in the morning.

Percentage of Accuracy: 72%

age: 22 height: 5''5"
McMinnville, TN
Cute cute cute, every picture I saw, I found myself thinking you are cute. You are so wholesomely average that it actually makes you extraordinary. I would happily walking around with you on my arm… or with my arms wrapped around you… or with your legs wrapped around me.

I couldn't find any photo's where you're exposing more than 10% flesh. You seem to have a very attractive body shape and adorable face, but without videos of you building sandcastles in a bathing suit or something there's not really much for me to go on. I wouldn't describe you as "hot". You know what, though? If you drew a mole on your top lip somewhere, that would make you pretty hot. Mmmmmm. I'm thinking about that and I like it. A lot.

Percentage of Accuracy: 76%

age: 20 height: 5'7"
Jacksonville, FL
The fact that I can find more pictures of you in a swimsuit than most girls, coupled with your asking to be rated publicly means you are confident and probably really cool. That’s not really what this rating is about though, is it? You clearly have a cute face and killer cleavage but it’s overshadowed by your weight. I know the BBW industry exists because there is demand, but I find anyone who weighs more than I do unattractive. I am a shallow shell of a human being.

I agree with, Jake... except the part about a girl being unattractive because she weighs more than me. If that were true, 90% of women would be disqualified. I actually prefer women who I don't have to worry about snapping bones if I get kinda rough... horizontally. However, even I have my weight limit preference and you are beyond it.

Percentage of Accuracy: 50%

age: 21 height: 5'10"
South Ogden, UT
Judging by your Facebook photos, you're quite a partier. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I always think "party" type of people are sluttier than non-partiers. So the fact that I think you're "easy" makes you a lot more attractive... and when I say "easy" I mean it in a Mormon approved, fully-clothed kind of way. I could be wrong, though. You might actually be a challenge. If so, you'd be less attractive to me cause I'm too lazy to work for it. Deep down, though, I wish you'd have been the girl to break me in right after my mission.

You have a very unique look, which is a big deal for me. Looking like every other hottie is so... dull. Your facial features are a little small, scrunched, no biggie though. I’m sure our noses will still bump when I go in for the kill. Nice stems by the way, and when I say stems, I mean legs!

Percentage of Accuracy: 80%

age: 20 height: 5'11"
Boise, ID
Tall brunettes with freckles drive me crazy - in a completely lustful and inappropriate way. Please make me a true Aggie Kayla, please? I will ride my bicycle up to Logan if I have to. The song, “It’s great to be in love” has never been sexier and I have never wanted to snog to it so badly.

You're hot in a Sports Illustrated model kinda way. If I ever met you in real life, I'd think, "Wow she's hot, but way too tall." I'm comfortable dating girls who weigh more than me, but there's something about dating a girl who's taller than me that I can't seem to get past. I'm sure Freud would have something clever to say about that. It would probably have something to do with wanting to spoon with my mom... which I can't deny.

Percentage of Accuracy: 88%

age: 24 height: 5'4"
Australia (?)
You are beautiful and you know it. Mommy's are so sexy! I would love to walk two steps behind you somewhere very public so I could catch every guy who walks by checking you out. You might have over done it a little on the boob job. Boobs can be like jalapenos on a hamburger – sure, jalapenos are awesome, but you can’t taste all the other good stuff i.e. tomatoes, lettuce, mayo. You have so many nice features it’s a shame your boobies steal the show. Best skydiving cleavage I’ve ever seen tough.

When someone as hot as you requests to be rated (publicly) I have to assume you know you're hot and you want everyone else to see how hot you are. The fact that you have a couple of kids makes you significantly hotter, as well. Cougarlicious. It's a little bit of a turnoff that you feel you have to rub in how hot you are via our blog, but since we're rating based strictly on the LOS your score will not change.

Percentage of Accuracy: 90%

age: 20 height: 5'6"
Logan, UT
I like the roundness of your face. It doesn't work for a lot of people, but it does for you. Your eyes are beautiful, as well. You need more candid photos uploaded and maybe some video. My rating would be more accurate if that was the case. You seem like a feminist. Good for you, but you should at least try to pretend to let the guys wear the pants... even if they don't. Oh... and your skin looks super smooth. You probably moisturize four times daily. That's a good thing.

Amanda, you have great style, and from the very few pictures you have where you are smiling you have a great smile too. Most all your pictures are posed “modeling” pics though. You look soft (I guess we could call it dainty). I like you with the platinum hair best and a bit of a tan.

Percentage of Accuracy: 68%

age: 19 height: 5'7"
Las Vegas, NV
Your eyes and smile are hard to ignore and I really like the shape of your face. I probably wouldn’t ever use the word “hot” unless I thought it would help me score a sweet snog on our doorstep scene, but you are attractive.


I'd love to date you if we lived on a houseboat and you never ever changed out of your swimming suit. You probably always smell good, too.

Percentage of Accuracy: 75%

age: 19 height: 5'2"
Mesa, AZ
I'm always a sucker for women in pajamas and those full body footie PJ's sucked me in pretty well. Maybe you can put on those PJ's over the top of a t-shirt and levi's... just so I can have the opportunity to slowly unzip them with my teeth without the risk of losing my Temple Recommend. Wait... you're 18, right?

Jake: 6
Megan you are really cute and I seriously want to appropriately explore your midriff. Your smile makes me smile. You look cute in every picture and it looks like that’s without lots of make-up. You may have some FP but I can't really tell because you are young and it looks like you may need to grow into your body… still, let’s you and I “watch a movie” some night.

Percentage of Accuracy: 65%


-Calvin and Jake

For the sake of ease of reference, the following is an excerpt from the LOS supplemental post:

Extremely rare, almost flawless. Even Super models, centerfolds, and movie stars on their best days struggle to achieve this rating.
9: In a large group of women, she's almost always best in show. Includes: Models, Actresses, Pop stars and girls toted as "Hottest girl in..."
8: Extremely attractive. Most guys are lucky to date one or two 8's in their lifetime.
7: Very attractive. These are the hot girls most common in a guys regular environment
6: Attractive. Slightly above average. It should be noted that the majority of the worlds population is within the 5-6 range.
5: Starting to be attractive or unattractive.
4: Unattractive.
3: Ugly
2: Induces a gag reflex.
1: Not sure if these exist I've never seen one, but they would be seriously deformed, probably leprous, or some sort of half human half animal thing.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Emasculate... er, uh... I mean Un-Manly

Selling door-to-door the week before Christmas is pretty much the worst thing ever. Getting the door slammed in my face seems less fun when the Christmas spirit is supposed to abound. I was better received when I was out selling religion to the mostly Godless folk in Ireland.

The guy that I go around with decided we should just bail on work so that he can go smoke pot because his buddy got a really good new strain this week (I don't even know what that means). So, I am home, the house is empty and I'm just dinking around on Facebook so I figured I'd write a few thoughts.

Sanders and I are getting increasingly serious. We are talking about marriage which seems crazy to me. It's only been a few months, and I still seem to find my mind wandering to thoughts of Andrea often. However, I adore Sanders. We have so much fun together. She is very smart. She is beautiful. I know she cares about me. Our ability to communicate with each other is unsurpassed in human history.

I do however find it interesting that we have not discussed what our status is. Terms like exclusive, together, DTR, boyfriend and girlfriend never seemed to enter into our conversations... yet marriage does. I don't want to rush into anything and I'm pretty sure she doesn't either. I'll admit, in the back of my mind I do think that because she's older that she is feeling more pressure than me. Then again, she seems to be just as comfortable as me in avoiding talk about our "status" as it were. So, the whole "older" thing is no doubt just in my mind.

Sanders does have a bit of history that I haven't brought up, not for any reason other than the fact that it hasn't been a good time to bring it up. Sanders is actually divorced. She waited for, and then married her high school sweetheart after he returned home from his mission. They were married for 3 years. In that time they managed to start up a scuba diving company in Costa Rica. (I know. Killer, right?)

Then, she caught him cheating on her. I'm fuzzy on the details, who left who, if they tried to reconcile, or whatever... because, really I don't care what the details are. I'm pretty sure even if they were explained to me in great clarity I wouldn't be able to fully understand because I have no perspective on that sort of ordeal. She divorced him. Paid him his portion of the scuba business, and kept running it on her own. At some point she felt that the Lord wanted her to serve a mission.

So she left her company in good hands and touted off to Ireland to spread the word. That's where I enter the picture and we've gotten down to this point. Sanders still owns her scuba company, and is finishing up a couple of business courses at SUU before she returns to Costa Rica to live out her life.

Honestly, the idea of moving out to Costa Rica and playing with my kids on the beach while my amazing wifey brings home the bacon is titillating. In fact, I could make up no better life... well maybe I could, I do have quite an imagination, but living in a spaceship with robots that call me Master Jake starts getting impractical... or does it? Hmmm

Well anyway, we were having one of our "if we were married" talks again. Sanders suggested that were she to have children, her husband would need to stay home and take care of them, for the most part. She suggested that, indeed, her hubby would be able to run it with her, but that she would generally need to be at work, working, like 40 hours a week. She asked me if I was put in that position if I would feel emasculated. I responded that I could think of no proof of manliness more concrete than having a wife who loves me so much that she would actually make all our money and let me stay home and raise our children.

She said that it wouldn't be just cartoons and Chutes and Ladders. I told her I would make an awesome stay at home daddy, I would clean and learn to cook, and always have her nice little meals ready when she got home. I also pointed out how sexy I think I would look in an apron...

Diapers? No problem. Vomit? Piece of cake. Homework? She might have to help us with spelling. I could probably get into scrapbooking too... I mean I write a stinking blog, I'm halfway to homemaker already, right? Sanders seemed pretty skeptical. I scoffed at the idea of this even being a discussion.

Honestly, are there men out there who would not be thrilled to be put in this position? How is "emasculate" even a word? Just by using it in a sentence (unless restating like I did) a guy is automatically a ferry. My roommates are all envious. Aaron is already planning a trip to Costa Rica and hoping to mooch his way through scuba certification.

Anyway, I find myself fantasizing about wearing board shorts, every day, for the rest of my life. Those thoughts are fun until questions like, "But do I love her?" and "Why can't I stop comparing her to Andrea?" and "Why hasn't she pushed for a DTR?" pop into my head.

Most likely I am over analyzing things too early on. Sure 22 is young to be married... but if it's right... if it would make us both happy... then I don't want to toss away an opportunity just because I'm too young or unprepared. At the same time, it's something I need to be sure of before progressing anything.

I should really focus on getting Sanders a Christmas present sometime today or tomorrow instead of wallowing in thoughts of a possible future life. One step at a time seems to be the most prudent course of action. I can't help what's on my mind though, and you benefit (or suffer) from me spewing it onto the pages of this blog.

So I guess the point of this whole post is, do you have any gift suggestions for a "not-girlfriend"?


Sunday, December 20, 2009


When I was a sophomore or junior in high school I had a job cleaning a medical clinic at night. The clinic closed at seven so I usually got there at about nine or so. When I was trained on the cleaning, they walked me through every single thing. Garbages, dusting, mopping, sinks, toilets, etc. It was a smaller clinic and they told me it was supposed to take approximately four hours to clean the entire thing, top to bottom. It was a pretty awesome job.

You know that soft music they play over the speakers in the dr's office? Usually it's FM 100.3... at least in northern Utah. (by the way... their slogan is "continuous soft hits". Um... did nobody in the chain of command at that radio station notice that the slogan sounds a lot like "continuous soft tits"? Cause I laugh whenever they say it... even when they're playing "Sounds of the Sabbath" on Sundays. I just can't help it.) Well, the first thing I used to do when I got to work was change the station to 99.5 and then crank it. I'd walk around for a couple hours jamming out to my own music in an otherwise vacant medical clinic.

The bad part about that job were the hours, of course. I would work until about one in the morning. Then I'd have to wake up at six in order to get ready for school. After school, I'd come home and take about a three hour nap. One of my first girlfriends was also during this period of my life. Emily Skinner. Emily was awesome. She was only slightly above average looking and her personality wasn't stellar, but to a dude who didn't have a whole lot of experience with women, Emily was perfect. She always wore slip on shoes, white tights and a skirt that went to about mid-thigh. Always. I don't remember her ever wearing anything else.

My mom hated her. Wanna know why? Cause every day after school, I'd go home and take my usual nap. I'd sleep solo for the first hour or so, but about three times a week, Emily would come over to my house, let herself inside, come down to my room and sleep next to me for the final two hours of my nap. It was awesome... for me. Not awesome for my mom. But my mom worked until five, so she had no idea that Emily was sleeping with me most of the time. Emily was one of the main reasons my mom felt it necessary to lecture me on aggressive women in the modern world.

I think Emily is the defining influence in my love for spooning. There's something about being so close to someone who likes you that is so much fun. Notice I didn't say "someone you like". I said "someone who likes you". Sure, it's great to like someone. But there's something so much sweeter about knowing someone likes me. Like if I'm out with some guys and we meet a group of girls, I'll usually rank them based on attractiveness, natch... but if Aaron whispered to me at some point, "Hey... that average looking one with the jutting ears and lopsided nostrils totally digs you." Even if she was the fourth most attractive of the six girls, I'd still think, "Sweet. I'm going for it." Now that I'm typing it out, I'm realizing it's probably because it's less work. If she is already leaning my direction, then I might as well take what I can get. Guaranteed makeout.

Anyway... spooning. I think I've gotten pretty good at it, thanks to Emily. Lots of practice over the years (minus my two year mission [with one exception]) has built my confidence significantly.

I found myself spooning with Marie on Saturday night. When I plan my dates, I purposely try to plan them out until about midnight. Then that gives me the option of ending the date, or turning on my irresistible talent of spontaneous horizontal make-out suggestions. She was in no hurry to go home and we ended up in my basement watching The Indian in the Cupboard. I know what you're thinking. "What? Seriously? The Indian in the Cupboard?" Well, I gave her a dozen choices and that's the one she chose. When I rolled my eyes at her choice, she said, "How much of it are we really going to be watching anyway?" True, Marie. True.

Our spooning position was perfect. I know it was perfect because I was so uncomfortable. That's how I know. I had to hold my head up with my left hand. When my wrist started to hurt, I would drop my head down so I could flex my left hand the other direction... and then I couldn't see the TV and her hair would go up my nose, which I'd then have to scratch. The positioning was perfect cause when I was propped up, my mouth was so close to her ear, I could whisper stuff. When a girl wants to roll around with a guy... and she's waiting for him to make a move... I think it's fun to drag it out as long as possible. Kind of like, make-out foreplay. When a guy's lips are brushing up against a girl's ear, pretty much anything he whispers is going to turn her on. I have a favorite and I totally did it to Marie. I would put my lips right against her ear and whisper, "Marie*, can you keep a secret?" (*name can be altered depending on who I'm talking to). Marie turned her head so our lips are about two inches apart and says, "Yes." Then I moved my right hand up to the left side of her face and very gently pushed her head closer to my mouth and then I whispered in her ear, "Um. I forgot what I was going to say. Sorry." The reason I know this works, is because when we're spooning I am very aware of her breathing. Marie reacted perfectly. She held her breath when I was whispering and then started taking shorter breaths when I pretended to start watching the movie again.

It worked beautifully. We ended up making out for most of the movie, including the end credits. The only reason we stopped is because the opening menu on the DVD has really irritating music that repeats over and over and over. Ugh. I hate that .

When I took her home, she insisted on having our doorstep scene in my truck... about two blocks away from her house. She claimed it had nothing to do with how late I was getting her home, but I'm pretty sure it was.


ps You know how when you play a whole bunch of Tetris right before you go to bed, as you're falling asleep, all you can think about is where to put those blasted Tetris pieces? Well, that was me... except with that Indian in the Cupboard music instead of Tetris pieces.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Why does the fart have to be so taboo?

Finished my last final yesterday, Math 1050. Got an A, a 96% in fact. Finally (sigh) proof that I am awesome.

Sanders and I had a conversation that went further than I thought I'd be comfortable with. However, after talking, I felt really good about it. It wasn't a "we're gonna get married" convo, stop jumping the gun like you're watching the WB. It was more of a "if, by some twist of fate, everything works out perfectly, and we are both in love... with, each other, and still believe in the sanctity of marriage, and don't put on 180 pounds, and aren't bored with each other in the least, and we got married, then, if all of those things are true, how would it work?" convo... Just so we're clear.

Anyway, we started talking about how many kids we both wanted and whether we would drive them all around in a minivan or an SUV. She got frustrated because I made it pretty hard to work it all out smoothly. See I hate SUV's, for a couple reasons. One they are extremely impractical in 99 out of 100 situations. Two, and more importantly, I hate most of the people who drive them. SUV's for me are on the same shelf with Ed Hardy shirts, sideways peace signs and pucker face pictures, and popped collars. So what I am saying is SUV's = Douchebag. What? You drive an SUV? Oh... well I'd be sorry, but we all know that SUV owners tend to be, in part, more selfish, self-centered, narcissistic, insecure and vain than their car-driving peers. Oh yes they do. There have been studies. Study it.

Anyway, minivans have a pretty negative connotation too. I can already read the 20 comments that haven't been written about how mini-vans are a "Utah Mormon" thing. Right, and we can talk about Green Jello and carrots after, except that minivan sales by state have Utah ranked 14th per capita behind the we're-hipper-than-you States of New York, California, and Texas. Regardless, I don't love minivans either. I like sedans.

Which doesn't work with the 8-12 kids I want to have. Sanders says she only wants 3. I asked if that's so that when we went on family trips they could fit in a sedan. She said no, because she only wanted to have three. I said no problem, have as many as you want and we can adopt the rest. She said she should have known that my narcissism had developed an unhealthy desire to raise up lots of little Jakeys. I said whatever psychosomatic mumbo jumbo was the reason that I did want lots of kids. She said my narcissism was cute, and just barely tolerable. I pointed out that she needed to understand that my narcissism wasn't the same kind that I was talking about when I was ragging on SUV owners. She said my hypocrisy was cute. She is cute.

Anyway, I was going to talk about how inconvenient it actually is that farting is such a taboo thing to do. I had the opportunity to hear the Apostle, Elder Quentin Cook speak at a lunch thingy today. After having just had a jalapeno burger from Carl's Junior I had some mad gas. Well, there were like 200 people in the room and I had to fart. I was concentrating so much on holding it in and not sqeaking a peeper that I could focus on nothing else.

Why is farting so bad? Really? I mean coughing is gross, so is sneezing, and people do that in public without major embarrassment all the time. If I could have just let a couple go today, I would have been fine. Instead I spent the meeting repeatedly clenching and relaxing just enough to make sure nothing slipped out, and I didn't hear a word the man said. The Apostle was trumped by my gas. It just isn't right. I can't help that food gives me gas. What if Cook's dissertation on "morality in business" would have changed my life. It may have been the greatest news I would have ever heard. Yet I missed out because farting is such a "bad" thing. Can you imagine if I was at the sermon on the mount and I had to fart.

I think we, the human race, should eliminate this problem. Join me in my quest for a Free to Fart America. It will only work if you can fart confidently in front of others and if when people fart you can refrain from causing a big scene whether it's laughter or disgust. You can actually catch something from a cough or a sneeze. Nobody gets sick from a fart. Yet farts are received with laughter and mockery, and coughs score a "bless you" from anyone within ear shot. Next time I hear a "fffrrrrtttt-ftt-fffffrrr woosh ffrrt-t - ttt", I am going to say, "bless you." Seriously people, is holding your farts worth missing out on enlightenment and possibly eternal salvation?


Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Raspberry Blast of Deliciousness

I felt like total crap all day yesterday. I'm pretty sure I figured out why. We had a pretty sweet gathering late Monday night/early Tuesday morning. There were a lot of people over. When that happens, we usually bust out a cooler filled with ice and then dump in a few sixers so people can choose what they want to drink. (I know "sixer" is a term used to describe a six-pack of beer, but when I say it, I mean Dr. Pepper, Diet Coke, and if we're really living on the edge, Mountain Dew Voltage with a blast of raspberry.)

When I woke up yesterday morning, I started walking around the house and I noticed cans of soda all over the place. Next to the couch, on top of the upstairs TV, on the counter, by the sink, etc. I hate to see half consumed cans of my favorite beverages, so I did what Jake and I usually do... only this time, Jake wasn't around so it was all up to me. As I lounged around the house all day, I would randomly grab one of the abandoned sodas and finish it off. Well, it took me most of the day, but I drank them all. Every last one. I decided that somebody must have been sick or something, cause I felt like crap all day Tuesday and a little dodgy this morning. The only other thing I can think of, is maybe an apostate dropped by when nobody was paying attention and used one of the cans of soda to spit his tobacco chew into. I guzzled a few of them pretty quickly so it's entirely possible I drank someones tobacco spit without realizing it. If I did... I hope it was a hot cowgirls chew spit. It's still gross and everything, but for some reason, it's slightly less gross if I think of it being a hot cowgirls slimy mouth juice. And I think I'd also be able to add her to my list of girls I've snogged. (Clam up. I'd count it.)

I fought through my nauseousness and called Marie last night. I figured out a way to hopefully win back her affection without embarrassing myself too badly. I thought about texting her to reconnect, but every time Jake and I ran through possible back-and-forth text scenarios, I was never happy with where it ended up. It could have just been Jake trying to be difficult, but I feel like I do so much better "in person"... and by "in person", I mean over the phone... like, actual voice conversation. Not "face to face", necessarily.

This is how our conversation went (it's hard to convincingly type 'stuttering' so try to imagine me stuttering a little bit throughout the conversation. I've found in situations like this, it's best to come across as nervous and slightly unsure):

Marie: Hello?
Calvin: Hi, this is Calvin Lynn Marler. Does your name start with M, A?
M: Yes, it does. (short pause) Who is this again?
C: Calvin Lynn Marler. I'm sorry, M-A. I feel kind of stupid. I was deleting a bunch of phone numbers out of my phone last night and I saw your phone number saved under the name "Really Hot Movie Theatre Girl Ma-" and then it cut off. I think my phone only holds a certain number of characters or something so I only was able to get the first two letters of your name. I didn't realize it until now.
M: And it was my phone number?
C: Yeah. I almost deleted it, but it does say, "really hot" and I couldn't bring myself to delete it without calling first just to see if you were married, or had a boyfriend, or pregnant or something.
M: Is this the guy who asked me for my phone number, like, two months ago in the movie theatre?
C: Yes it is. And if you decide to give me another chance, can you also remind me of your first name cause all I've got is M-A?

I was worried that she wasn't laughing at all through this conversation. But then, after that last line, she started laughing pretty hard and I realized she had taken my bait. Hook, line and sinker. She pretended to remember my name from two months ago and I didn't argue with her... but I DID say my own name twice at the beginning of our conversation. I think she's already trying to play games. Amateur.

I told her I'd call her on Friday to confirm the details for our Saturday date. She told me she still lives at home. What the crap? I'm almost 22 and I still have to meet the parents of girls I date? I seriously need to meet some Cougars who have careers and can support me and my lavish lifestyle of Mt. Dew, Arby's Market Fresh sandwiches and Entertainment Weekly subscriptions.


Monday, December 14, 2009

The Trouble With Rating

After much discussion with Calvin I have decided to post this story... even though it is terrifyingly dangerous.

So, I drove down to Cedar City this weekend to hang with Sanders. We were talking in her room while she was getting ready (don't worry it was all appropriate, she has one of those fancy 3 panel room dividers). I was sitting on her bed looking through her high school yearbook, and she says, "What would you rate my looks on a scale from one to ten?" I joked, "Come out from behind the divider and I'll tell you." She said, "No, I'm serious, don't tell me you don't rate girls." I responded, "Of course I do, I just can't let you know how much I like you yet."

Sanders peeked her head around the bamboo divider and said, "I'm serious Jake." I replied, "Your looks? You're an 8, (This was a lie. She is really a 6) except for when you wear that blue shirt." She said, "Only an 8?" I said, "8 is great, I've never been with an 8 before... I mean, I'm like a 6 you know so, you're up there." I noticed specifically that she did not dispute my self prognosis.

Then she shocked me, "Have you ever heard of the Mormon Bachelor Pad?" I looked at the room divider, I imagined I could see through it, and she was standing there staring right at me, waiting for me to lie. I was frozen... I knew that at some point this would happen. I was so stunned it felt like it had been 20 minutes since she asked me and that my hesitation had blown my cover, but it had really only been a few seconds. Finally I simply replied, "No."

She said, "It's a blog, Patty showed it to me today because they are rating all these girls on Christmas." I said, "Huh? On a 1 - 10 scale?" Sanders then proceeded to explain to me the whole scale system actually using the terms "LOS" and "OS". She told me how there's this house of guys in Salt Lake who write this blog. I acted fascinated, but aloof. I said, "I didn't think you read blogs?" That was a question I now work into early conversations with girls I date to see how careful I need to be with what I post. She replied, "I don't. I just thought it was so crazy."

Sanders said she wanted to be rated a little. She said that she couldn't believe my rating of her because we were involved (smart girl) and that she would love to hear what an unbiased person would say. I asked her how she would feel if she was rated like a 5 or a 6 or something. She admitted she would pretend that it was okay, but that she would probably take it hard. I wanted to tell her that I really thought she was a 6 on the LOS, that 6 isn't bad, I adored her. On the OS I thought she was in the 9's and that number kept growing each time we hung out. I couldn't though. There is no amount of explanation I could use to say 'I think you're a 6, but it doesn't matter because I like you' without it making her a little or a lot self-conscious.

Sanders found it very troubling that this is going on because she fears for the self-esteem of girls who will be rated. Talk about ratings monopolized our evening conversation. She made a good point as we entertained the actual process that the MBP writers would be going through. Her point was that girls with more pictures would have a more accurate rating than girls who just emailed 5 pictures.

After discussing this with Calvin we have decided to add a "Percentage of Accuracy" clause to our rating system. For example, a girl who is our facebook friend that has 300 pictures and has been tagged in a video, and who has pictures of herself in a swimsuit is going to get a high percentage of accuracy, like 90%. If a girl only has 5 photos, that will lower the accuracy. Obviously those photos are ones she has hand picked for people to judge her on. If all or a lot of her photos are glamor shot, airbrushed, type photo's, that too would drop her accuracy. I could spend a whole post outlining accuracy ups and downs, but I'm pretty sure we all know how this sort of thing works. Suffice it to say that when we do hand out our ratings we will do something like LOS rating: 7, percentage of accuracy: 65%.

Anyway, back to Sanders discovery. She told me that she decided not to request a rating, and neither did her friend Patty. Apparently, Patty thinks that the writers of this blog are arrogant and in for a rude awakening someday, however she found them to be funny and entertaining.

How can I post this story without fear of getting caught? Because Sanders is right. I am arrogant and no doubt in need of a rude awakening. Sanders doesn't read blogs and admitted that she only read two posts. She doesn't even have facebook. She also doesn't use a computer except to check her email which as long as I have known her is less than once a week.

So... even though it's a bit dodgy... I posted it to point out that when we do this, we will be rating girls in the 5's and 6's and are going to get a lot of crap for it. We are going to be honest though, regardless. I was dating Becca, who on the LOS I would rate an 8. Sanders is only a 6. I picked Sanders because looks aren't everything. Just because we are rating girls on their looks only does not mean that that is all we care about. So, hopefully when we rate you and you don't like it, you too can recognize that looks aren't everything.


PS Sanders... if you do read this, call me first so I can attempt to bribe you to keep quiet. Also, you are awesome, sexy, and I would love to break the law of chastity with you, but will not due to my respect for God, God's Son and his atonement, and my respect for you.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Problem Solved

I thought initially that I'd keep the mouse in my truck around for a while. I thought it would definitely be fun if I was ever on a date. I could casually mention the fact that I let a mouse or two make a house in my truck. Oh man... that would be awesome. But then I read the comments on my last post and someone mentioned that mice like to chew and it was only a matter of time until they decided to chew on my wires (that's what she said). So I went to the store and bought two packs of two mouse traps. I thought it would be funny to set all four of them and then take a picture. So I loaded them all up with peanut butter and went out to my truck.

I haven't set a mousetrap for a long time. It's freakin' nerve-racking. I was petrified. The spring on those stupid things could break my finger if I wasn't careful. I'd wouldn't be more scared if I was setting a bear trap. By the time I'd set the second one, I decided I didn't want to risk a mouse trap related injury so I didn't bother setting the other two. Then I realized I still had to shut my door. The last thing I wanted to happen was to slam the door and have the vibrations snap both of my traps. It didn't, though.

So I went inside and started watching LOST with Jake and Nick. Two hours later, at about 1:30am, I said, "I'm gonna go see if I caught anything." Jake started laughing at me like I was a total idiot. "It's only been two hours. There's no way you caught anything yet." I ignored him and went out to check anyway. Sure enough, I had caught a mouse. You'll also notice most of the peanut butter has been eaten off the trap that's still set. It's a good thing I'd set two of them. When I showed Jake the dead mouse, he was like, "Well, it takes longer to catch them in our house since our house is so much bigger. Of course the mouse would get caught quicker in a smaller environment." Sure, Jake.

I decided to set my last two mouse traps so there were three of them in my truck. When I took the other two traps outside, I noticed the small amount of peanut butter on the third trap had already been consumed so I was relatively sure there was at least one more mouse in there somewhere.

Unfortunately, the three traps have now been set for two days and I haven't caught any other mice. I deep cleaned my truck, though, and there was mouse poop everywhere. It was nasty.

By yesterday, I was so disgusted by mice and their poop (and three girls in our ward had already complained about Brigham and his wives) that I moved the mouse cage out to our garage. What a waste of $50. Oh well.

Speaking of yesterday, a bunch of guys were coordinating a group date for last night. I was invited to go, but I don't really have anyone to ask. I was looking through my phone and I noticed "Marie Theatre" saved in there. It took me a few seconds to figure out who that was. When I remembered, I got a little embarrassed. I actually almost deleted it. Not because I don't want to go out with her, but because it has been so long since I got her number, I'll look like a jackass if I call her now... and I am tempted to call her.

I didn't delete it. And I'm still tempted. I just have to think of a witty and believable excuse. Actually, it doesn't even have to be believable if it's witty enough. And it doesn't have to be witty if it's believable enough. If I can think of something today, maybe I'll ask her out for tonight. No. That's rude to ask her out on the day of. Maybe next weekend.


ps The censored portion of the photo may possibly be concealing an identifiable skin blemish. Please ignore it.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

The Blog Report

I hate college! I have to write so many papers it seems silly for me to do this post, so I apologize if the posts looks a little like one of the reports I'm writing. Finals, though, are tough man. It's like professors feel like they have to live up to the infamous reputation of the word "finals" and make it unnecessarily hard.

I will however not use that as an excuse to shirk on my blog duties here. I discovered for the first time with my last post that I actually care... not so much with what you think of me, but I care about how well I think that I perform. My last post was the suckiest suck that ever sucked in my opinion and it's been driving me nuts. This one will be kind of long though, which is good because unless Calvin can talk me out of it, I am skipping blogging for all of next week in observance of finals. Like an idiot I thought 18 credit hours would be a breeze, not realizing that would translate into two

So, seriously all I have been doing is schoolwork for the last few days, so nothing exciting there. Which leaves me to talk about the events of last weekend that I left out of the aforementioned suck that was my previous post.

A small detour from that though... the word "suck" was forbidden in my family when I was a child. Then sometime after I got my drivers license it was just okay to say all of the sudden. We didn't have a family meeting or anything, it just became okay. The first time I heard my mom say "suck" is still with me to this day. My little brother, about 6 at the time, came in the house crying. When my mom asked what was wrong, he pointed out the window screaming, "Chase just peed on me." There was a kid that lived across the street, Chase, who was semi-retarded (actually I don't know if that's true because he just went on a mission a few weeks ago, but when I was 16 he seemed kind of Forrest Gump-ish).

Sure enough, my brothers left leg was wet from the knee down, and a little pee had puddled on the top of his blue Van's sneaker. I looked out the window and saw Chase standing outside in the street staring at our house. He was wearing a diaper or pull-up or something (I swear the kid was 5). My mom was trying not to laugh and she said, "I'm sorry, honey, that kind of sucks huh?" My brother said, in between deep inhaled sobs, "Yeah, it does suck... and Mommy." "What?" My brother sort of whispered, "I saw his wiener, too." My mom burst out laughing, and my brother cried a little harder.

Saturday morning around 3ish, I fell asleep on the old D.I. couch that we have in the basement. After dropping Sanders off, I popped in the last disk of Season 4 of LOST, and dozed off. Around 8, I wake up to find a female sitting on the edge of the couch next to me, rubbing my arm gently. I had slept in my contacts so it took me a sec to focus. I'm sure my wincing face and repeated blinks looked dashing. It was Becca. I was planning on sleeping till noon and wished like crazy she was Sanders.

"Did I wake you up?" Becca asked. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you did." I grumbled. She said, "I was thinking we could get some breakfast?" I looked at her. She looked really cute. She was wearing sweats and a hoodie and her hair was pulled back. "I heard it was unhealthy to eat this early," I said as I rolled my face back into the arm of the sofa. "Funny." She said, "Come on, I'll buy." I didn't really care that she was going to buy, but I figured there was no getting rid of her in a way that wouldn't be more work and more uncomfortable than just getting up and going.

She sat back in the sofa as I got ready. I wandered in and out of the room looking for clothes and then my wallet, and then my keys. I'm pretty unorganized. After getting busted for mass texting the night before, I asked Becca, "Hey, when you get a mass text does it tell you all the recipients names and numbers?" She said, "No. Why?" "No reason." I replied. Then while I was putting on my belt I had my body turned a bit and Becca leaned forward, pointed at me and said, "What's that?" "What?" I asked. It looked like she was pointing at my shoulder. She stood up and stabbed her finger into my skin right above my collar bone on the left side of my neck and said, "That?"

We walked over to the mirror and she pointed it out again. It was a red mark that resemble somewhat the redness of a fresh hickey. "It looks like a hickey to me." she said, her voice was getting agitated, "It looks like the biggest hickey I have ever seen." "It's not a hickey." I said. "Where were you last night?", she asked. "I was out with a friend from my mission." I replied. "A girl?", she countered. I could see she wasn't going to let this go. "Yes, I was on a date with a girl, but she did not give me a hickey. Look at that thing. It's huge. She'd have to be a hippopotamus to give me a hickey that big." I kind of chuckled at my masterful use of humor in a stressful situation... which didn't work.

She stood there. Arms folded. "You are such a dick!" I opened my mouth to try and explain, she cut me off, "I don't even want to hear whatever bull crap you're gonna try..." I thought saying "dick" was important but chose to use the word "crap." Again, I tried to interject, but she was yelling and wouldn't let me get a word in. She grabbed her purse and started up the stairs still yelling. "I knew this would happen, I knew it. You're so selfish you can't kiss two girls at the same time. You can't do that to people! You're such a douche."

I wanted to point out that we hadn't kissed for a few weeks. That I wasn't kissing her because I had replaced her with the other girl - and instead of telling her, I was kind of hoping whatever we had would just fade out and go away. I wanted to point that out but instead I just said, "Becca, let me explain." She was too busy yelling on her way out. I stood at the base of the stairs and listened to her voice drift off and right after I heard her say, "You're not that cool anyway!" I heard the door slam behind her.

The hickey? Sanders did not give me a hickey... in fact I'm pretty sure I am hickey-proof seeing as I don't bruise too easily. There happens to be a perfectly good explanation for the cell phone size hickey-like mark at the base of my neck. I had a sore shoulder from a soccer injury earlier in the year. I got one of those microwavable heat pads, and I strapped it on last night before watching Lost. As the pad drapes over my shoulder there is a portion of the pad which sits directly on the skin of my neck without a shirt between the pad and my bare flesh. After sleeping with the pad on all night, it produced the hickey-like mark on that chuck of skin. That mark, coupled with Becca's serious over reaction abruptly ended what I wasn't man enough to end myself, our future together. I was glad and I was tired, but, since I was up, I sent Sanders a text, "Breakfast?" She responded almost immediately, "You read my mind :)."

Sanders and I went to Church together to her Grandmothers rest-home ward. Before going Sanders told me that President Monson comes to this ward all of the time. We sat down, and sure enough in walked the Prophet. It was my first time being in the same room with a Prophet or any General Authority for that matter.

After the opening song and prayer, mid-way through the Ward Business, there was this high pitched beeping song that started playing, not very loud, but enough to be heard throughout the chapel, like a really cheap cell phone ring or something. The conductor stopped in his tracks and turned to look at President Monson who had a huge grin on his face which he tried to mask by looking around to find the origin of the song. Sanders leaned over to me and said "That's the BYU fight song." I'm not familiar with the tune, but when it finished playing the guy conducting look right at President Monson, the sound obviously coming from him and said, "Are you- are you playing the BYU fight song?" President Monson, simply shook his head with a "who me?" look on his face accompanied by a telling smile and replied, "Uhh-unnn."

The guy conducting laughed a bit and said, "Oh, I see..." He turned to the congregation, "Sorry for the interruption Brothers and Sisters, but it seems someone up here on the stand has a bit of a forked--" the sound beep bu-bee-bee-beeeep, started up again. President Monson laughed little kid who just asked someone to pull his finger. The people in the congregation who weren't deaf all laughed. It was way better then the usual obligatory watered down jokes that usually start of sacrament meeting. The guy conducting laughed and shook his head, as if to say, "Good one Tommy, good one."

The meeting continued as normal and was actually pretty good. Each talk was really great. I guess if you're called to speak in the ward the prophet regularly attends you bring your A game. I really hoped that somehow I would be able to find out the story behind the antics early in the meeting. After sacrament, after Monson had left, the guy who had conducted told the story to a small group of us.

The conductors name was Brett and he was a huge-HUGE U of U fan. Brett and ol' Thomas S. Monson had become good friends recently. Before the big BYU/UTAH football game a couple weeks before. Brett asked Thomas S, "So, who you rooting for this weekend?" Monson replied, "Whichever team wins." Brett said, "Oh come on. You gotta pick a side." Monson diplomatically replied again, "I'll root for the team that wins." Brett said, "Just because you have a degree from both schools doesn't mean you can just not pick a side. You're the President of the Church. The Church runs BYU, so your BYU degree means a little bit less because you can just give yourself a degree from BYU whenever you want... so I think it obvious you should be rooting for UTAH." Monson didn't seem to like the joke too much, but laughed it off, and secretly started to concoct his little plan for payback.

Monson, knowing that Brett was a huge UTAH fan, and since BYU had won the big game decided to stand by his word, and root for the team that won. So he brought in a keychain that played the BYU fight song at the push of a button. His playful interruption was hilarious. It was nice too, to see this guy who has such an awesome responsibility just being a normal, regular guy. A guy that I wouldn't mind joking around with some time. The thought, "Ohhh-ho snap, you just got zinged by the Prophet, buddy!" keeps entering my mind as I replay the experience in my head.

What can I say? Sanders is awesome. Spending the whole weekend together with her while she was up here in Salt Lake was pretty great. I find myself thinking about her... wondering what she's doing down in Cedar City. Wondering if she is thinking about me. Every night this week we have spoken on the phone. And, we text back and forth incessantly, to a point where Calvin and the guys are a little bugged by my preoccupation.

Today text:
S: How are finals? J: Silly, stupid, pointless. S: Like dating. J: Did you mean for that not to have a question mark? S: Yep, dating is silly, stupid, pointless. J: Poor jaded old lady. I hear it's all downhill after 26. S: Easy boy, you'll get your mouth washed out talking like that ;). J: Well, you should try dating you, it's much better than normal dating. S: That was cheesy. J: Yes it was, but that doesn't make it any less true. S: :)


Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Brigham the Mouse

I had my first final yesterday morning. As I was driving up to school, my mind wandered to this blog. I knew that at some point, I would need to write another blog post. The only problem is, I don't have any girls I'm interested in right now. I know our blog has kind of gravitated toward dating and relationships and whatnot, but just because we're bachelors doesn't mean that's all we ever talk about. Girls and relationships are only about 95% of what we do in our house. That might seem kind of high, but I'm not exaggerating.

If I'm not currently pursuing a girl, then I'm probably at least trying to figure out how to meet some new girls. If I'm at church, I'm scoping the scenery trying to make "accidental" eye contact with some girls. If I remember that I need to do some homework, I'll usually try to think of the quietest place with the highest percentage of attractive girls in which to study.

As I was thinking how all this could fit into a blog post, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I glanced down at the floor of my truck and I saw a small brown mouse staring up at me from the passenger side floor mat. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity. It was staring at me as if to say, "Um... what are you doing in my house and why don't you drop french fries between the seats more often?" Meanwhile, I was thinking, "Did you just move in or have you been in here for a while? And where do you sleep?" Then the mouse turned around and ran back up into the dashboard.

I looked back to the road and was relieved to see that I was still in my own lane. After I found a parking space, I realized I was still thinking about that mouse and I had a little smile on my face. As I was walking to the testing center, my smile faded temporarily when I pictured that mouse running up my pant leg while I was driving. I tried to convince myself that I'm not afraid of mice at all and that I could probably keep my composure as I pulled to the side of the road casually... but I'm not sure if that would really be the case.

For example, I don't think I'm afraid of spiders, but the other day, I took off my gray overshirt as I was getting ready for bed. After I'd peeled it off, I saw something black on my garment top inbetween my nipples. For a split second, it looked like a spider and I said a string of profanities that I don't think I've uttered since Jr. High. When I realized it was just a piece of lint, I was amazingly relieved, but was still slightly hesitant to remove the lint with my fingers... mostly because there was still a .000000002% chance it was a spider.

Anyway... after my test I stopped at Pet's Mart. I bought a medium sized mouse cage with all the fixin's. Then I bought one male mouse and three female mice. I named the male Brigham, but I haven't thought of any good names for his wives, yet. I should do some research, I guess.


ps Our Christmas Cards are going to be addressed and stamped in the next few days. If you're interested in receiving one, please email us your address. If you have any questions about whether our intentions are pure, click here.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

This post sucks

It has been well over a month now since Andrea and I last spoke. Per our agreement I sat around anxious and nervous that she would call or text me. She didn't. For the next few days I found myself pretty disappointed. I really didn't want us to get back together, I don't think. I just wasn't quite prepared for her to actually move on. Over the past couple days though, I have thought about it. I'm glad she has moved on I hope it's because she has met someone and that she is happy.

Still I find myself comparing other girls I get close to, to Andrea.

Sanders and I spent the entire weekend together. She got in on Friday night. We went and saw a movie. Before the movie started Sanders says, "So who's legs are more attractive? Mine, Renee's, or Hot Becca's?" I'm pretty sure the look on my face was priceless, I knew instantly that somehow she had seen who I sent the texts too from the night before besides her. I knew this because I had saved Becca's number in my phone under "Hot Becca". "Wha--?" I started to say as she smacked me accross the chest. "You think I'm stupid?" She laughed "Don't be sending me the same texts you send your other girls." I started to try and dig myself out of the whole I was in but she continued to interupt me. "Didn't you know that we can see who else a text is sent to now?" She seemed like she was less upset than she was baffled at my ignorance.

I explained that I did not in fact know that. If you send a mass text to some people depending on their service and the type of phone they have they can see all of the recipients that you sent that text too besides them. My phone with AT&T did not show anyone who a text was sent too. Lisa was with Sprint, who apparently added the feature 6-9 months ago. I have since found out that people with T-Mobile can also see the other recipients. I'm sure there are more and that it depends on the type of phone one has... but this is very important information that I have thus far been unable to discover anything about on the internet. Beware.

So Lisa and I chatted for a bit about my mass text and I quickly brought up Beau and my awkward little introduction. She said something rather profound I think, something that makes me like her even more. "Look Jake, I like you, that's obvious, and I am happy to compete because I expect the kind of guy that I would like to be liked by others. If there weren't other girls trying for your attention I probably wouldn't be interested." I thought she was getting at the thrill of competition, but when I brought that up she countered, "No, I don't want to compete. I just recognize that that is part of dating, especially when I want to date the good ones. It stands to reason that everyone else will want to good ones too." It was like she had flipped a switch on in my mind. She was right. She was smart.

She further made the point that she just expected me to be honest with her and made me promise not to share any more of her texts with my other girls. I promised her I would. Then I remember thinking that she was forward and communicated really well just like Andrea.

I'm sorry that this post sucks. It's not funny and hardly informative. I had so much to write too. We hung out most all of Saturday, and Sunday. I had a funny story to tell about President Monson showing up at a rest home Ward Lisa and I went too. Also an interesting exchange that Becca and I had which pretty much ensures I'll never talk to her again... all of that and this is the garbege I come up with.

My excuse is the same as every other 20 something student. Finals. Calvin is asleep and can't even proofread this for me because he has a huge test early tomorrow morning. I have my share of studying and testing to do this week too so this is all you get for now.