Why Is Everybody Always Picking On Me?

What an easy target I am. Stephanie is always making fun of my mongoloid sized noggin. I can't help the fact that I lost in the genetic lottery and have such an over sized head. Not only does she make fun, she does it in ALL CAPS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Argh!

Then, while defenselessly enjoying my son's pack meeting I get ambushed by Debi and Kevin. It is a pretty low thing to purposefully, and with the obvious intent to inflict emotional trauma and embarrassment, dress in the same outfit as someone else and then not have the decency to stay far away from them and avoid eye contact. If Debi has on anything that remotely resembles what I have on, I immediately change. Seriously, I am not one of the Bobsey twins. One awful Sunday the kids all wore yellow shirts, blouses, or dresses. They easily convinced Debi to wear a yellow blouse to match them. Then, the hungry wolf pack surrounded the weakest among them and begged me to wear a yellow shirt to church so we could all match. I was horrified by the thought and refused. But, even the crustiness of my heart can be softened by Emma's big eyes asking me "please Daddy, please." So I caved. That's right, when it comes to my kids I am a big caveman. They ask, I say no, they say "pleeeease" with sad eyes, and I cave in to their demands. Yeah, anyway, church sucks when the whole family wears the same color because EVERYONE made a HUGE DEAL about it everywhere. The bishopric was laughing on the stand. People I had never talked to (most of the ward, like Stephanie, I am the ward recluse) felt compelled to tell me how cute it was and what a great dad I was for playing along. During priesthood opening exercises the bishop remarked he was embarrassed that he was not aware it was YELLOW SHIRT SUNDAY and asked Brother Lee to be sure and call all of the priesthood next week before church and let them know what color we would all be wearing. Yeah, that Sunday sucked, almost as much as the one when I carried Nikki, the American Girl doll and sat with her on my lap through Sunday School and Priesthood because Emma insisted Nikki could not be left in the truck during church and that she would cry if I did not hold her. You can be sure the kind, sympathetic brethren of the priesthood let that one slide by unnoticed. Even the oldest and sleepiest of the high priests took their shots that Sunday.

Anyway, as this approaches the longest, most boring, text filled blog in history (seriously, does this guy not have a camera, know how to post pictures, or add cute polka-dots and frilly things to his blog), I find out the ORNERYGUY has been tagged by "Sweet Melissa" (a great song and even greater cousin) unless he is "too ornery" to play. GROWL, CURSE, SPIT AND VENOM, ETC. I am the meanest, orneriest, rottenest, big-headed beast to ever walk the earth and all should fear me and tremble in my presence. But, truly fearsome as I truly am, when it comes to family, friends, strangers, even people I loathe and despise, I quickly become just another caveman.

So here it goes, a tagging of the most boring person to ever sleep through World History and wake up during a South American history class (being taught in Spanish) and go back to sleep until that class was over before exiting the classroom.

A - Attached or Single? Oh, so attached (is he talking about "the old ball and chain"?)

B - Best Friend(s)? Eric. Then of course Abby, Dallin, and Emma. And I think there is someone else, but the name isn't coming to me. SB, or something like that.

C - Cake or Pie? I agree with Melissa on this one. Aunt Janet's pies are beyond heavenly. I feel sorry for anyone who has never tasted one, but not sorry enough to share with them. Seriously, pity has it's limits. And pity ain't gettin' anyone no pie. No way, no how, and no caveman, neither.

D - Day of Choice? Any day Dallin and I can spend a few hours at the ballpark working on baseball. He is really helping me get better. With a lot more hard work I might be good enough to play on his little league team next year. Not start or anything, but maybe play for an inning every fifth or sixth game.

E - Essential Item? Coke. That one girl, SB or something like that, has tried to guilt me out of drinking my beloved Coke. Seriously, it is sweet ambrosia, and she refuses to bring it home when she goes to buy groceries. I think she delights in my suffering. She claims some BS story about kidney damage or something like that. Like anyone is going to believe that such a sweet nectar that also eats the rust off of nails is going to hurt anyone's vital organs.

F - Favorite Color? Definitely purple. I don't think I own anything that is purple, nor would I ever paint anything purple, nor do I even really like the appearance of the color purple, but, it is definitely the best tasting of all of Mr. Crayolas delectable delights.

G - Gummy bears or worms? This one is so easy. My all time favorite song to sing (off-key and with a truly sorrowful case of the poor-me's) goes something like this: "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to the garden to eat WORMS!!!!!" (Caps, exclamation marks, and an incorrect use of the colon? This guy is a total loser.)

H - Holiday of choice? This is a toss-up. I love Christmas. Not the carols being played even before Halloween, the shopping, the sappy movies, and all of the commercial crap (colons and crap, this guy is total class). For me it is celebrating Christmas with my family. This past one we spent in Disneyland was wonderful beyond my highest hopes. Now, to complete the toss-up, it is nearly impossible to beat Easter in St. George, at Green Valley, any year in the 1980's. Unless it is Arbor Day, the Fourth, the 24th, or Thanksgiving at the cabin. Oh yeah, and the 23rd at Grandma's. Really, just spending one more hour sitting with Grandma Dallin and listening to her talk and laugh, watch her holding a baby, and feeling her sweet hug would top all holidays that ever were, are, or will ever be. I miss her much more, and much differently than I ever expected to.

I - Indulgence? My family, definitely. I love doing everything I can for them and my greatest regrets are the things I do not have the time or the means to give them. There is nothing good enough for them, and unfortunately, they were stuck with this ornery old fun-hater.

J - January or July? Definitely July. No school, lots of baseball, and rib-eye steak on the grill. Now, if we could just get July to change weather with early October, then we would have a great month.

K - Kids? They are kind of stringy and chewy. Mine especially are way too skinny for eating but they sure are fun to be around. I wish I could slow time WAY DOWN and spend a long time in the present with Abby (12), Dallin (8), and Princess Emma (4). Check out the Rush song "Time Stand Still" with Aimee Mann of 'Til Tuesday adding her vocals. It is on the playlist.

L - Life isn't complete without? This little girl I know, Debi. Fortunately, she is the anti-Scott. She is kind and sweet, good at everything, and people like her. Like I said, she is the anti-Scott.

M - Marriage date? 7 September, 1994. And after 14 years of marriage I have learned enough to refrain from any snide comment about that. It was truly the most amazing day of my life and one I do not, and never will, deserve. Thank you Debi, for taking pity one me.

N - Number of brothers and sisters? 1 sister and 2 brothers. They are for sale, if anyone is interested. I've slashed the price on the brothers, both for a bum-nickel. But the sister, she's ........................priceless! :) (is that a smile?)

O - Oranges or apples? Apples, definitely. I am an apples guy. Ask Debi, she will tell you. She slices them and I eats them. I'm too lazy to slice them myself. But, then again, when Grandpa Dallin peels oranges I eats them too. Again, the lazy thing. But if anyone is up and would like to bring me a peeled orange, a sliced apple, another plate of dinner, a Coke.........., please feel free.

P - Phobias? Oh yeah, I got phobias baby! I'd tell you what they are but that would jinx me and they would all come true. Oh crap, (seriously, this guy is a potty mouth) I think that may have jinxed me, but now I'm un-jinxed, scrud, now I'm jixed again, argh! Has anyone seen MONK? Debi hopes and prays that one day I will be as highly-functioning and self-sufficient as the amazing Mr. Monk.

Q - Quote? "I think it needs more cowbell"-SNL skit devoted to the loss of a member of Blue Oyster Cult and referencing the cow-bell being played in their ode to suicide "Don't Fear the Reaper." I believe his name was Gene Frankel or something like that. I am embarrassed that I can't remember that bit of trivia, but I am also too lazy to look it up. Go ahead and Google it yourself. This much I do remember, he was not the lead singer of the band, but he did sing the lead vocals for a few songs. I think "Godzilla" was one. If you have a moment listen to that song. I think it is on my playlist. Anyway, Gene was a guitarist extraordinaire. Find some old BOC songs and "fritter away" (Pink Floyd reference) some time relishing in the genius that was Gene.

R - Reason to smile? Knowing I have something truly devious planned. Fear me now, mere mortals, for I am orneryguy! :)

S - Season of choice? "It's the time and the season for loving"- The Zombies. Check out where the "Who's your daddy?" reference came from. If anyone can cite an earlier pop-culture reference of "Who's your daddy?" than this classic song by the Zombies let me know in the comments section. I will then destroy you, claim to have found the reference myself, and use this kernal of knowledge to rule the world . I am smiling at the diabolical genius of my devious plan. :)

T - Tag 3 people. This is difficult since nobody reads my blog, or leaves me comments, or loves me, or cares that I am pouting, or that I am about to go out into the garden and eat worms. (Wow, this guy is a sad-sack) That, and half of the people who "pity-read" my blogging drivel have already been tagged. Therefore, with great "Pomp and Circumstance" (seriously, that is the title of the song they play when the president of the United States is introduced? How weird! Also, the dork driving this blog should know that works of art, songs, book titles, etc., should be italicized, not put in quotation marks.) As I was saying, with great Pomp ande Circumstance, I hereby request that the wise, noble, and honorable Stephanie (Aunt Meanie) and the most delightful, wonderfully beautiful, true love of my life Debi (SB) please considered themselves tagged and respond to this invitation forthwith and in due haste. For those of you who have taken off your shoes and socks to help with the counting are so painfully aware, that is only two people. Again, I am weeping in shame over the lack of love my blog is receiving, so if you have ever stumbled across this page and been so embarrassed you even saw it, please, please leave a comment this time and consider yourself tagged. (Wow, that guy has no shame, begging for comments like they were signs of approval. Maybe he should change his name from the Orneryguy to Mr. Self-Esteem. Excuse me, the dripping drops of sardonicism have left a puddle on my keyboard and I must clean up).

U - Unknown facts about me? I wish I could tap-dance. Seriously, Sammy Davis Jr. is THE MAN! And what about Mr. Bojangles. First of all, the song by the same title, by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, always chokes me up. Especially the part about him grieving the death of his dog twenty years later. But, getting beyond that, watching old clips of him, Sammy, Gregory Hines, etc. really make me wish I could tap dance. I am not so much for the white guys. I mean Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly are great and I have seen Michael Flatley (sp?) the "Riverdance" dude and was impressed, but it is the great soul, feel, emotion, sorrow, showmanship, and truly divine grace of movement of the black men that gets me. (Is any of that true? Is there any way of knowing?)

V - Vegetable? Mashed potatoes with Grandma's gravy. There is no food as good, and there will never be.

W - Worst Habit? Debi will say it is generally being an "Aspirin". Say it out loud and slowly, you will get the drift. If you don't, let me tell you a cute little exchange I have with Emma often. I ask her who each person in our family is and she responds, "Dallin is our Sunshine, Abby is our Monkey Butt, Mommy is our Queen, Emma is our Princess, and you are the DADDY DONKEY). That's right, I'm an aspirin. :)

X - X-ray or Ultrasound? Huh?

Y - Your favorite food? Thanksgiving at the cabin again with the potatoes and GRAVY and Aunt Janet's pie. Yum. For regular days I love Rib-Eye steaks.

Z - Zodiac sign? I am a Gemini. No I'm not.

A Special Place

There is a special place in hades (Debi will have a melt-down if I use any profanities or obscenities, but I'm sure you know where hades is, right? It is a part of H-E-double hockey sticks). Anyway, there truly is a special place in hades for people who drive under the speed limit in the carpool lane.



I just don't understand what compels these morons to drive 55 mph in the carpool lane. There is already a special lane reserved for these people. It is on the far right side and it is called "the slow lane". I am guessing these special people are so "slow" they are not even aware of how "slow" they are.


Here are a few tips to help you determine if you are one of these slow people who will be spending eternity searching for ice water:

1. Look at your speedometer. If you are not going at least 10 mph over the maximum posted speed limit, you better buy some asbestos underwear.


2. Look out of your front windshield. If the only cars in front of you are ones that recently swerved in front of you, nearly clipping your bumper, while the driver honked, glared, and gave you the Italian Salute, I hope you like BBQ.


3. Look in the rear-view mirror. If however, you are like most of the morons driving slow in the carpool lane, you don't even know what or where the rear-view mirror is. Consult your owners manual. After finding the mirror if you see a long stream of cars all driving bumper to bumper behind you and there is only clear sailing ahead of you, please pull over, get out of your car, and repeatedly slam the drivers door shut on your head.


4. If you find you are one of these (choice adjective) slow drivers, please exit the carpool lane immediately. Cross the double white lines now. Do not wait for the dashed lines to appear. If you get a ticket because you crossed the double white lines while leaving the carpool lane because you have realized you are of the "special people", I will gladly pay the fine for you. So long as you swear to never leave the far right lane again, that is.

In conclusion, though I am normally a very tolerant person (kind, forgiving, understanding, slow to anger and all of that), I do draw the line at driving slow in the improperly named carpool lane (it should be named the ultra-high speed passing lane and be restricted for drivers who are comfortable driving at least 20 mph over the speed limit.) I feel it is my duty to warn those who violate the very laws of nature and drive slow in the carpool lane of their impending doom, and to call them to repentance. Those who insist on violating the true and intended purpose of the carpool lane will be expediently cast down to "hello operator," where they will be forced to listen to __________________________ for eternity. Have a nice day :)

(If you read this post, I request you make a comment, and also that you fill in the blank with whatever you find contemptible to listen to. It may be a specific song, artist, genre, high-council speaker, me, or anything else you would personally feel tortured if you had to listen to it for an eternity.)

The Orneryguy Has A Little Fun?

Abby (click her name to link to video sight!) was on Good Things Utah today! That is certainly worthy of an exclamation mark. Maybe three!!! She was a little nervous thinking about how many people were watching her on TV, but she handled it well. By the end of her segment she was very comfortable. When the show was over she took a basket up to "the Girls" and gave them some hair bows. They were very impressed with her generosity.

We all went up and had our picture taken with the cast. Marti told us she choked up while reading about Abby on the air and that she had cried when she read what Debi had written about Abby.

Dallin even got in on all of the action. When we were at the Day Spa they all adored him. After being asked a few times, Dallin finally consented to a free haircut. It would have been $45 and they were anxious to do it for free. Then, walking into the studio we saw Angel, who does the cooking segments unloading her Cadillac. She hollered hello and waved to us, very friendly. In the lobby I told her that Dallin is her biggest fan. He loves watching the cooking segments and then helping Debi to make the dish they showed. She showed him what she brought in and told him all of the ingredients. During the show, after the cooking segment, Angel came over and got him out of the audience. She said they were not supposed to take guests on-stage during the show but that since he was her biggest fan he had to come and eat some of the dessert. They visited for a few minutes and Dallin had a delicious treat with macadamia nuts, mandarin oranges, crust, and whip cream. He thought it was delicious. Angel even gave him the copy of the recipe that had been on the counter while they were filming. Later, when the show was over and we were having our picture taken with them I lifted Dallin so he could be seen and Marti turned around and told me to set him down next to her.

All in all it was a wonderfully fun time (something an ornery guy rarely has). I was surprised at how genuinely friendly everyone was. It was almost disturbing to think that people can go for so long without being a little irritable.

Poor Emma missed the fun, but we were sure that had she been there she would have been running around the studio and generally making a nuisance of herself. She does her own thing that child. Instead of going with us she went to Diana's house and played Princess. She did not want to come back home.

Abby got back in time for the last half of her first day of Junior High. Then she was rushed back to BYU for the closing performances of her daCi dance camp.

I love my children and am very proud of their achievements, accomplishments, and abilities. I am even more proud they are "nice kids" who are working hard on strengthening their own testimonies. They come from a great pioneer heritage on both sides and are great representatives of those they came from. As their father, I just hope to learn from them and not mess them up too bad.

I Take Offence!

Offence, much like colour, is a chiefly British variant, and perfectly proper and acceptible. I am deeply offenced anyone would question me on that. It must be all of the English literature classes I took and all of the English literature I read leaking out of me.


When questioned, I must defend myself.


Actually, I was relieved to see "offence" listed in the dictionaries after I googled it.

Great eyes, Steph. I thought I was the only critical one in the family.

Also, I googled "parentheses" and "parenthesis" and found both uses to be acceptable, although there appears to be some possible, minor differences in their definitions. Google them and read up a little, then we can neither of us care which is the most proper under which conditions.

Anyway, enough blammer.

Scroll down the music list and see if you like anything. Sorry if David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust is not working properly. If you have three minutes to kill track the song down. It has a great guitar riff and the song influenced many bands of the 70's (Sex Pistols, etc) through today (Green Day).

A note on Black Betty. Could you find a better white trash anthem? Seriously, I think I need to buy a trailer before I can truly appreciate the song. No wonder it is the most popular song played during the University of Wyoming football games.

And what happened to Stairway? It sounds like the Chipmunk's cover version.

If you read this post you are morally obligated to leave a comment.
(This post passed the spellchecker, anything missed is totally the responsibility of the big-headed author).