Words that start with "snug"

Aaron will tell me this is old and I'm out of touch, but I think The Snuggler is one of my favorite heroes in recent history, and I figured with the Snuggie gaining popularity in our ranks (heck, Taliatha is shedding everything for it) we might as well partake of this offering from Tim and Eric.

Warning, there is some gore and a stuffed fox.

Remember . . .

Remember Naoto, Ollerton and Walters? I wonder what those guys are up to? Do you think it was really Walters that posted on the blog a little while back? Remember Brimhall? I ran into him on Facebook the other day and told him about the blog. Maybe he'll pop up. Remember Castleberry? What about Dangerfield? There's always the twenty year reunion. What about Mickewiecz?

Monday: Cinema of the Absurd

Golden Coin Chocolates Recall

Looks like a legitimate warning about the golden coin chocolates. It is just one brand that should be limited to Canada--but you never can be sure whether or not your neighbors went on a candy run to Canada.

Real Families Real Answers

I'd like to call a quick time out from my usual avocations (Cougar football, 3-way tie for 1st in the fantasy football league, hobby farm planning, playing Civilization and cramming enough genetics down the throats of freshmen to choke a horse) and bring your attention to Real Families Real Answers. It is a documentary sponsored by the School of Family Life at BYU that summarizes research on characteristics of successful families and shows how different families across the country have implemented these characteristics. Taliatha and I have been following this series on BYUTV for the last few weeks and have thoroughly enjoyed it. Go check it out with your spouse (if you have one) and let me know what you think. The episodes are each about 30 minutes.

We're cruising, we're cruising, it's your birthday, it's your birthday!

Somebody on Cougarboard has this beauty as their signature.

I Just Don't Understand...

As fall has fell here in the happiest of valleys, so to have fall fashions. I've always enjoyed donning my jackets and jeans. I usually buy a new pair of shoes. Good times.

But today on campus, while Atti and I were having a snack outside of the Twilight Zone, I noticed in the space of about five minutes about five different girls wearing their boots over their jeans.

I wonder if this is, or was, a fashion trend, or just a weird Mormon thing, like socks with sandals, but whatever it is I'm not feeling it. Whether it's because I'm old and it's beyond me, or whether it's just tacky, it makes my eyes hurt.

Lesley has some cool boots, and she shows them off, but she wears them with skirts and dresses, isn't that a better option? Or am I wrong?

What am I missing here?

Chin up!

This video from Lykke Li is the balm I need to soothe the gash in my heart over Boston's loss last night. Could it be that there are still great music videos being made?

This one is just too good to be true.

And great shall be the fall thereof...

What happened to my Red Sox? What on this earth?



I can't even watch. Bottom of the seventh and we're down 7-0. And who the h*ll are the Rays? I'm all for a Cinderella Story, but seriously? The Rays? From Tampa?

I feel I'm partially to blame. For one, I didn't commit to my perennial beard growth to show my support and I've only worn the hats for half of the game days. My prayers have been patchy as well, but I've never been sure that those were acceptable. And, to top it off, I never shelled-out for cable at the new place to be able to actually "see" any of the series.

But no, not even that tops it. And I'm going to be entirely honest, hoping that none of the Sox ever read this post (because some of them check here periodically): I think I wanted them to lose today. Here's why:

A week or so ago, a cousin of mine said he had two tickets to the ALCS at Fenway on the 16th of October and did I want to buy them. I said yes, and spat much of my spaghetti on the floor as I did. I don't even know if I actually got a "Yes" out. It was mostly chewed spaghetti.

Long story short, I couldn't go because a friend couldn't go, but I was ready to spend a handsome GRAND to get out to Fenway to see this game. I had looked at and almost booked the hotel in Boston just a few blocks from the fabled park. But then the world came crashing down around me, and I tried my best to be cheerful about letting the dream die. That was a little more than a week ago. Just as they were cinching up the division series against the Angels.

So somewhere, in the back of my mind, I've been harboring this awful hope that they would lose tonight so that I wouldn't consider it such a tragedy that I wasn't there. And when you consider what I was ready to spend to get there and then imagine me, in all my gear, watching my money and my dreams blow away like so many amber leaves on a chilly New England night, it somehow seems okay. Right?

Wrong. I let my team down. Yes, I dodged a sizable bullet by not dipping into the kids' college fund (again) and flying out to a blood bath-- the third in a row! Yes, It's better to be home watching Halloween cartoons on YouTube with my family than feeling my tears freeze to my face at Fenway, but my heart still aches for the boys in Bean Town.

So if you see me shuffling around town with my hands buried up to my elbows in my pockets, looking to all the world like the walking dead, just tell me all the things a thousand dollars can buy. That will make me feel a lot better. And I will be really, really, grateful.

but WAIT...

Bottom of the eight, and we've put in 6 runs. What is going on? This is not a joke: as I'm writing this post, the game cast is going in a separate window, updating in perfect silence. And yet it's laughing at me. Laughing loud and long and clear. Laughing at the possibility that this might be the don't miss game of the season. Could fate be more cruel?

Top of the ninth, tied at 7. I'm going to kill myself.



If this is because of the beard, I am never shaving again.

Don't miss this diagnosis!!!

It could be fatal!

Monday Distraction

Hang in there with this one. It took me a minute to commit. But in the end, it was worth it. If only for a couple of good laughs.



Then, as a follow-up, please forgive the source (family guy is hardly appropriate for this family blog) but, also good for a chuckle.

Wall of Pain:Wall Street Edition

During this time of economic uncertainty and distress, one of my favorite features from day to day have been the pictures of Wall Street types looking like 1) they just got punched in the gut or 2) they were just told their Grandma is dead. Here are some examples taken from today's news websites.




The last one, to lighten the mood, is of Kirk putting down some pain on the Atlanta kicking team.

Perdition and Politics

So you think things are bad in Washington?

For those of you who don't live in our Pretty Great State anymore, you're going to miss this. But I wanted to share a piece of it with you.



This is the guy who made a ton of money off of in-your-face marketing, and now he's taking that energy to capitol hill. And this time he's bringing the hellfire and damnation with him. It's worth following some of his statements online as they come along because they sound like they were written by Wierd Al, and if you're like me, you saw "UHF" and you loved it.

This is also the same dude who drove his company into the ground after being arrested for brandishing a handgun in traffic and landing his parachute on or near the freeway. This is better than Arnold.

Kiss it, California.

It's a Girl!

Just a quick note. The wife and I found out last week that we are having a girl. We are due in February. For those who don't know this will be number four for us. Our lineup will now be girl, boy, girl, girl.

Fantasy Hoops

Hey, I've never done fantasy hoops but since I'm enjoying fantasy football so much I thought I'd mention that Beau is hosting a fantasy hoops league. He has the e-mail address to sign up over at his blog. I'm signing up and I hope some of you foo's do too.

Born to Sing

Last week I commented on Tony's bday post about the musical mentoring he provided me with early in my acting career. Today I chuckled as I watched the clip posted by Jed. As most of you know, singing is not one of my natural talents. The thing is I've always wished I was singer. In fact, it was sometimes frustrating being friends with individuals who had amazing singing abilities. It just seemed like Jed, Mikey, Tony, Rob and Kirk could effortlessly sing whereas my attempts were, well, not as good. I have to admit my singing ability has progressed since high school, I can stay on key with the melody and even stick to a part with a little practice and someone really loud to stand next to but I still am a little envious of true singers. Luckily my singing career has brought me some great memories that I would have never experienced had I been a virtuoso:

1. During Music Man music rehearsals one day I was the only bass besides Gerald Reynolds. This was not good because I was only with the basses because that was a the group I randomly assigned myself to during call backs because I figured singing low was easier than singing high. Anyways, at one point in the rehearsal Mr Lindsey instructed the bases to sing their part. I did my best but afterward Gerald and I sang Mr Lindsey looked concerned asked us to try it again. The second time I only mouthed the words and he seemed much more pleased with how things sounded.

2. For Guys and Doll tryouts I sang a Harry Connick Jr. song that I knew the words to but had never seen the music. When it was my turn, I sauntered out onto the stage and gave a rousing rendition of "When you love the language..." I thought it sounded pretty snappy and it appeared Mrs. Payne and the other's did too because they asked me to sing another song, this time accompanied by piano. I remember thinking, "yes, I passed the first hurdle, they most only ask for another song when you really sound good." It was until later that the second song was only to confirm their suspicions that I really had no idea what I was doing.

Here's to all of us who can't sing well but still do, sing on oh off key singers!

Always Sentiment To Remind Me

I know this is an oldie, but it's a goodie. Even if you've seen it, you should hang in there just one more time. It's a cure for "the mondays" (can't believe I just typed that).

I will sometimes leave this tab open on friday when I shut down so that on Monday when I start up, my homey is there to infuse me with the cheer I need to plod through the coming week.

This is even better than coffee (or so I've heard).

Master of what now...?

So if I've kept tabs right...

Holmes and Benson are professor types, and both are under 30.
Duerden's working on the PhD, maybe a year or two left.
Kirk is blocking chumps into an oblivion
Sandberg might be a doctor all ready (what ever happened to Sandberg?)
DH is in Med. School.
Vanderhorst is the king of Iceland.
Mikey and Brandy are teaching the kids.
Jed...I don't really know what Jed does, but he's got three kids and two houses (to my understanding)

And then there's me.

While all others seem to be at, or close to, a career destination, I find myself in the middle obtaining a degree...which will allow me to get...another degree. And while I knew this when I applied for this degree, it still chaps me a bit that when I'm fished I won't be done. I work hard, pass my classes, pass my comps, pass my thesis...

...and get to go to three to five more years of school and do it AGAIN! AHHHH!

If I go the theater history/crit. road I'll have taken probably eleven theater history/literature classes by the time it's all done. ELEVEN!

I think in the past, maybe in the fifties or something, I could have gotten a job at a community college with an MA, but with today's competitive job market there's just NO WAY a theater guy can get on at a school with out a PhD or MFA. Which leaves me with three choices.

1. PhD in Theater, Film or Performance Studies. This is probably the best route to take, but it's probably four or five more years of school.

2. MFA in Directing. I'd probably be a good candidate at many schools with my age and experience, and I'd enjoy the curriculum a bit more than the PhD stuff, but snagging a job would be tougher post graduation because most hoity-toity universities prefer PhD's.

3. Bite the bullet and work for the man. At my current job managers come and go at an alarming rate. If I had started at the front desk I'd probably be a manager by now. In a few years I'd move up the latter, probably move locations three or four times and eventually become a GM somewhere. Knowing the staff and management at the property I work at I've come to understand that it wouldn't be real hard to learn all the ins and outs, and I'd be a good manager. Smart enough to be good, Smart enough not to be TOO good. Stay off the radar in both directions. Would get good pay, and have GREAT hotel stay benefits.

BUT, I'd be a corporate sell out. I'd probably would hate my job until I was the poo-bah. Holidays wouldn't exist (remember that if you're ever eating at the Howard Johnson's on Christmas, some of the workers never get a holiday off) and bowing down to the creeps who yell and scream about complementary coffee and the temperature of their room would be just part of a days work.

But if I do option 3 all of my schooling wouldn't have contributed to my career. And knowledge for knowledge's sake is great, but I'd like to cash in this knowledge somewhere.

There's no easy answers, and frankly I'm about a year and a half away from needing to make a decision, so while you're all working at your careers in two years and are having a bad day, just remember you could be in a classroom with a stuck up professor asking you about the importance of Plato's cave as it relates to theater, and THEN maybe your job won't seem so bad.

What dreams may come

Here's to Holmes and this blog.

But first, my dream.



Last night, one of a few before my "full" sleep test to determine whether or not I'll spend the rest of my life with a snot blower up my nose to counteract my potential apnea (but in truth, I'd rather just die early), I dreamed a dream. And you were there, and you. You I've never seen before... (Tone, I'm counting on you to pick that up.)

We were at some resort in the mountains. Some place I've never been. It was a sort of Hilton at Aspen kind of place-- not great, but not a motel. Everything had that "Rocky Mountain" look: unfinished lumber, Native American prints on woolen blankets draped over hearths-- that sort of thing.

It was close to 6 am. Maybe just after. And the kids were stirring, because it's a hotel and they never do well at a hotel (can I get an AMEN, anyone who has traveled with their kids?). They decide they're up for the morning, and Jayne is beat, so I say I'll take the kids down to see what's at the Breakfast Bar.

So we're walking through this grand old lobby, I'm in a bathrobe and slippers (what the?) and the kids are pulling on bagels and I see Rob and Taliatha meandering toward me. I'm shocked to see them and, for some reason, they are not so shocked to see me. Tai waves, good naturedly, and Rob looks abashed. Then, not a few feet behind, comes Durerden and Chambers with their wives. Then Tone and Mikey. Mikey looks violently ashamed. And then it occurs to me... The reason for all the shamed faces, the darting eyes. Tone wouldn't even look at me. I think Steve-O finally said "Hey, we're just going to nab some breakfast." No, it was Rob. He just stood there, so guilty.

But it was clear that you didn't all just find yourselves there at this resort and say, Hey! It's six in the morning. Let's grab some breakfast! You had clearly arranged it-- and gone to great lengths. We were in freaking Aspen, for crying out loud. And here I am, dragging my kids through the lobby when I meet you all and it's clear I'm the last person on earth you had hoped to see. Freaking Benson and Vanderhorst were there! This grand reunion, and no one called me. (My dad, the shrink, would lean back in his chair at this point and roll his eyes. This is like, Psych 101, anxiety dream fodder. To think his own son would have such transparent dreams...)

Someone was saying, "We couldn't reach you" or something, but I was too flustered to respond. I just plowed through the mob with my kids and went back to the room. I even got online to see if there was an email I missed. But there was nothing. I left the room to investigate and that's where the dream started to unravel and nothing made sense anymore. I ended up in the basement of the HFAC trying to break into a dark room with one of my Photography professors.

Nothing made sense but this, and this is the kicker: I vowed, at some point, never to post on The Provonian again.

Which is what brings me back to where I started. Cheers to Holmes for putting the blog in place. A year ago, it wouldn't have entered my thoughts, let alone my dreams. And now, it seems, when the world is crashing down around me and all my friends have abandoned me, my only revenge in that universe of melting clocks and criss-crossed nerves and sinews, was to take a vow of silence on our joint blog.

Unluckily for the rest of you, I was dreaming. And I'm going to post again, and again, and again, and again...