One of Life's Hard Lessons...

As many of you know, I like to be the class clown. I've long considered my role in life was to draw attention to myself and try to amuse groups of people at the same time. In elementary school, I had one move in particular which was sure to get laughs 100 percent of the time: farting. The great thing about elementary school was that you could really amplify the sound of your flatuations off the hard plastic chairs. About once per week, I would sense a quite moment and let one rip. This was ALWAYS followed by roars of laughter in the classroom. I was a living legend at Bates Elementary primarily for this one action alone, and I loved it each and every time.

I remember the day my world came crashing down around me. It was a few weeks into 7th Grade, and I was now a big Junior High student. My Pre-Algebra class was full of new faces and I needed them to know how cool I was. I especially wanted to impress this girl named Holly who sat near me. My moment had finally arived. It was quiet, and I was ready to lay the comedy down. Big time. As I'd done countless times in Elementary school, I positioned my body just right for maximum flatuental resonance. The room stayed silent, until 'Boom'! In my mind, it was flawless - exactly what I was looking for.

Beaming with pride, I gazed around the room expecting to see throngs of laughing kids in awe of my prowress. "Boys and Girls, behold your King", I thought to myself. What I got was the complete opposite - utter silence, mingled with some disgusted looks. I don't think Holly even looked up at all.

Huh? Seriously? Didn't they hear...??? Hmmm, there must have been some other variable here that I didn't realize. Surely things didn't change THAT much between elementary and junior high, right?

A few weeks later I tried again. It was an almost identical situation, which (sadly) produced an identical reponse from my audience. My heart was racing, and something new was happening to me. My face was getting warmer and my ears felt like a radiator, swelling with hot magma. I wanted to ooze my way out of my desk and run down the hall. I actually felt SHAME and REGRET for the very action that had made me a legend in Grades 1-6. Was this what it meant to be embarrased?

It was October, 1987. The day farting stopped being funny.

Small world or Large Guy?

I don't know if this happens to everybody or not, but I am constantly running into people I know. This is to be expected, I guess, when you live 5 blocks from where you grew up - HOWEVER, this also happens to me in the craziest places. Have you ever heard the story where I met the girls from North Ogden while I was in Paris? Or the time I got on a flight to Atlanta and found out the pilot was one of my best friends? I've decided that either this really is a small world, or maybe it is just super easy to pick me out of a crowd because of my enormous size.

Case in point:

We recently returned from a trip to Southern California (more on that in a future blog, I'm sure) where we stayed in a friend's timeshare in Oceanside. One day, we decided to go down to the beach to let the kids play. On the short walk down to the water, a minivan pulled up to us and someone inside was yelling my name. I turned around and saw a familiar face from high school. It was Alison Smith, who married my buddy Boomer. Come to find out, they lived directly across the street from where we were staying. They lived so close to where we were staying that I could pick up their wireless Internet from our room (his network is called 'BoomDog', by the way). I was doubly excited to see a familiar face, because I figured I would be able to watch the Jazz/Lakers game from their house. Sadly, that didn't happen, as the game wasn't televised for them. But it sure was nice to see them...

Grrrr....

So, I had the most sickening sight as I pulled up to work this morning. The parking lot was essentially empty and the building looked dead. Somehow, I had forgotten that today was a holiday - and I showed up to work anyway. Because I was gone all last week, I feel obligated to sit here for a bit and catch-up on my work (amidst blogging). Grrr...

This reminds me of the time that I somehow didn't get the memo about Daylight Savings Time and showed up to church an hour early. I was angry for weeks afterward.

The Weirdos Out There

According to my hit-counter, our blog has been 'Googled' a number of times. The last searches that led weirdos to our blog were:

Nettie Sorensen (Google)
masonology (Google)
flaming gorge kayak camping (Google)
masonology (Google)
masonology (Google)
"change her own diapers" (Google)

Strange. This has led to some discussion about going private. We're not sure if we'll do it or not, but it might happen. If you want to make sure we add you to the list, post your email address here or send me an email: bmason@212resources.com

Worst...Golf Course...Ever...

Well, since my whale didn't spark any interest (you know, it really hurts my feelings when I don't get any comments on this stupid blog), I have decided to showcase my parents' adventures in retirement. They are currently living the dream as Sunbirds in Quartzite, AZ.

Ahhhh... the joys of RV Livin': The open road. Porta-potties. Swap-Meets. Cramming all of life's essentials into a rolling palace on wheels so you can park inches away from other people who share your same ambitions. This is what its all about, I guess.

The metropolis of Quartize, Arizona is a retirement haven (so I'm told). As proof to this, I offer exhibits A, B, and C. Eat your heart out, Pebble Beach...

Exhibit A. The high life.

Exhibit B. I'm thinking that the government must have tested some nukes here. If they didn't they should have.

Exhibit C. I think the bleachers are the remains of a planewreck.

Humpback

Did I ever share this picture I took when I was in Alaska?

(OK, I didn't take this picture, but I wished I did. I did witness this kind of stuff, however).

I know this post is dumb, I was just sick of looking at the Inauguration.