Doest This Still Work?

Just seeing if this works. I am still ornery, just lazy.

BARK AT THE MOON!

It just isn't Family Home Evening at the Lee's until the cops show up. Mother's Day either for that matter. But...

It was an ordinary Monday night. Dallin and I were hanging out in the church parking lot. He was riding his Honda CRF50R and I was watching as a proud and jealous papa. Proud of his prodigious skills and jealous because I wanted a motorcycle more than life when I was his age.

So, anyway, the bishop of the other ward and I have a history of disagreements over kids riding a mini-bike in an empty church parking lot, wearing a helmet, gloves, goggles, and a long sleeve shirt, with plenty of alert adult supervision.

I was not surprised when a cop showed up three minutes after the bishop left. The officer was cool about the whole situation, especially since he knew we were not violating any laws. He was glad to see Dallin's safety gear, noted his control of the motorcycle, and wished us a good evening.

The evening took a most awesome turn when we arrived home. My sorta twin sister (same birthday!) had dropped off a present to commemorate and celebrate the birth of her favorite person, ME! I was so excited to get another package of the most comfortable white tube socks ever. They are the ones with the grey and red toe stripes. The GOOD kind. I love them, love them, love them! Then, it got even better. Steph got me a magical present, one complete with power and glory, one which transformed me instantly after I put it on.

THE THREE WOLVES HOWLING AT THE MOON T-SHIRT!

I pulled it on and even before I could remove the white tag on the front my thumbs magically arose and I was channeling the spirit of The Fonz!


Then, the unseen magic contained within the shirt caused my sleeves to scrunch up, as though the shirt were actually a muscle tee, and my guns expanded to impress the ladies. I was immediately attacked by one of the ladies, who could not contain herself. She kept kissing me and tried to lure me after her with her brightly colored hair decorations.

But, I was not to be swayed be her. The shirt's ethereal aura spun my cap around to further reveal may true badness. A trophy flew into my hand, one which pronounced my true inner champion to the world. I felt like I had never truly lived before I put on the shirt.

This lady is still begging me to take her as my own. I believe she even wants me to be the father of her children. Thanks THREE WOLVES HOWLING AT THE MOON SHIRT, and thank you Stephanie for granting me this great gift of power!

Links to check out ABC News, 3 Wolf Moon-Pocahontas, and the original review by a law student. (Note to Steph, in the review, read what the dude was doing at Wal-Mart, I nearly pee'd myself. This shirt truly reveals my inner white-trashedness. Now I just need the mullet and goatee!)

I Finally Found My Password

That's right, I am a DUMAS! (That is a link, so click it already!)

I was reading someones blog around November and typed out a nice, heart-felt comment, and spent about 20 minutes trying to send it. I could not remember my password. That lead to several months of blog post inactivity. Except that I prefer the term "less-active" blogger.

It has been pretty laid back in my
world the last several months and I really haven't had anything to complain about. Just a little bit of work to do and a few fun classes to attend, combined with all of the brilliant, wonderful people in the world, each of whom I love and adore, makes the Orneryguy pretty mellow.


Besides, when you watch Steph and Jeff bustin' some serious moves at the ward party, life is really sweet. (Another link, one you do not want to miss!)

Dallin and the mighty Tigers have helped me to fill my abundant spare time. More on them later, I do not want to jinx them.

I am the complacent picture of perfect contentment. Not so much as a feather has been ruffled in so long that I scarcely remember what it feels like to get all worked up. Debi has truly found it joyeous to be around me, and any report she may give to the contrary is bovine manure.

However, I DESPERATELY NEED YOUR HELP! (it must be serious, there are caps, font changes, and an exclamation point, oh my)

"How can I help?" I'm glad you asked. Here's the deal, I need to have a stack of bumper stickers to keep in my vehicle at all times so I can let others know what I think of them and their amazing driving abilities. When I come across some outstanding example of "dipshitedness", (it is not a swear word if it is all in one word and in quotation marks, is it?) I need to be able to follow the fine fellow or gal until they are stopped long enough for me to jump out and plaster the rear end (the car or theirs, either one) with a bumper sticker which really defines my feelings towards them and serves as a warning to all others who see them or their vehicle. However, anything I can come up with is not Debi approved and may violate local decency laws. So please submit your suggestions and everyone will be a winner!

That's right, there is a story which goes with this need I have. I will try to keep it short, but I know I can't. In the law class I had this winter our Professor, "The Judge", gave us a seminar in being nice to others and not being judgmental towards them. I decided what the hell, I'll try it for a day and see if it kills me. It was a short lived experiment, and the most miserable five minutes of my life. Several hours after it failed, I recieved confirmation that some people are simply, um, idiots, and it is my life purpose to seek them out, let them know who they are idiots, and to warn all others about the iodiots I have found. It is a heavy burden I carry, but I bear it with a smile in my heart.

So, around 5 pm on the day of the failed experiment I dropped Abby off at BYU for her dance class and was hurrying to my fun Friday night job. I was in the far right lane, approaching a green light, when the car in the lane next to me signals, so I slowed down and let them move in front of me. I smiled, the experiment wasn't a total flop, I just let someone in my lane. Feeling rather saintly I wasn't even bothered when the light ahead of us turned yellow. The car in front of me hit the brakes hard and stopped, rather than turning right during the yellow light. No big deal, there was no traffic on University Avenue and plenty of room for the car to go.

But there it sat, blinker on, waiting for invisible cars. Several seconds pass and I give a light blip on the horn, letting the driver know it was safe to go. Not a hard honk, like some jerk, saying move it stupid. Just a little "beep" to say hi, hey, go ahead, it is your turn, I love you, and have a nice day. Nothing. Now the traffic was coming and there were no openings. I took a deep breath and decided it was ok. I could be a little late, and that was a real person in the car ahead of me, with real feelings, and I could be patient and understanding of them letting 30 seconds go by without turning when they could have and now sitting for several more minutes until the light turned green. And green it turned. But the car just sat there, right blinker flashing.

Then I could see the stupid-looking face of the driver peering in the mirror as s/he changed the blinker to the left one and sat through the green light trying to pull over into the center lane before moving. I honked a little firmer than before, and lowered my window to gently express my views of the drivers skills, IQ level, and overall attractiveness. I believe I also gave quite a disertation as to how much better off the planet would be without them, and thanked them for proving Darwin wrong. Evolution would have dried up that shallow gene pool eons ago. Late in the yellow light s/he finally got the gap s/he was waiting for and moved into the center lane as s/he ran the red light. This time traffic was heavy and I could not make the right hand turn until after two turning lights and the straight light had all turned to red.

As I finally made the turn and headed directly for the next red light I realized I needed bumper stickers. I had had plenty of time to go out and cover s/his car with expletive laden warnings of the diminished mental capacity of occupant of that vehicle. And I would do it too, if only I had the stickers. Now, all I need is the perfect statement, thousands of stickers, and a permanent adhesive. The sticker would also need to be impervious to paint or any other attempt to cover the message.

PLEASE SUBMIT YOUR SUGGESTION, and remember, I am not easily offended.

Drive safely and have a nice day! :)

I have been so (adverb of your choice, all of my current ones range from slightly off-color to downright Debi-disapproved) busy lately. Ok, not so busy that I don't take breaks to throw the football with Bubba Ray, but busy nonetheless. Also, Hibberds and I watch Chuck on NBC every Monday night. (The best FHE activity, ever!!!) If you have never watched Chuck do so now. Go to www.msn.com and select TV. Select Browse Shows with Free Episodes and watch all of the available episodes. We love Chuck Bartkowski, Morgan Grimes, and Big Mike. But we hate Bryce Larkin!!!

Debi will also argue that I have not been to busy to take study breaks to watch my new addiction, Arrested Development, also on www.msn.com. This one is about a dysfunctional family (insert joke here) and all 57 episodes are available. It is my goal to watch everyone before the new year. I realize reaching for the stars like that is dangerous, but what the heck, I am committed. If you too are a high achiever, I dare you to take the challenge and tackle them with me.

I have been tagged numerous times, and I do intend to respond to them, but not just yet. First I have to say, "check out the picture above." The ugly guy on the left has a beautiful family and is incredibly grateful for each of them.

Confession time: My name is Scott and I am a BYU Football-a-holic. Seriously. Not only did I buy season tickets and spend a small fortune on concessions, I have worked half-shifts on Saturdays in order to feed the habit. Mister Stingy hates leaving any cash on the table, and to leave work early to attend games is horrendous. But today, I hit rock bottom. Mark offered to let me leave early to watch the game on TV. I walked away from 3 hours wages and went home. Wait, IT GETS WORSE!!! (Bad enough for ALL CAPS and exclamations points, oh my!)

The game was not on regular Comcast Cable. We even have On Demand, but no luck. I was so desperate that I went to CBS College Sports online and paid $14.95 to watch the live game feed on my laptop. If anyone is unsure of the true depths of this depravity ask Steph. She knows a pry bar and a court order is needed before the inside of my wallet sees daylight. And if you don't believe her, ask Debi. Wait, no, don't ask her. She will start to cry as she re-tells tales of my tight-fistedness.

So anyway, perhaps an intervention is in order. Stephs attempted one to get me out of the 80's did not work, so I don't have much faith in one breaking me of this. It is pretty sad when an adult (cough) sits screaming at his computer screen and gets emotionally distressed with every Cougar miscue. Oh, well, it could be worse.

I have promised the story of the flying frozen turkey, and I intend to deliver for your Thanksgiving pleasure, but not today. I just wanted to share some of the things that are important to me right now. My family and time with them, Chuck, re-runs on the computer, BYU FOOTBALL, and my extended family. Believe it or not I think of each of them regularly. Even the ones who probably think I don't even remember them.

I have been so blessed in the extended family respect. I have great memories of each member which I think about constantly. Thank you for putting up with me. I often wish for a time machine. There are many times and places I would like to visit again and re-live those moments with my family. Summers at Bear Lake, Thanksgivings at the Cabin, Christmas' in Bountiful, the 23rd in Provo, Green Valley, Willard Bay, and many others.

Sometimes the missing of those days and the people in them makes me sad. When that happens I have to stop being sad, and be AWESOME instead. If that ever happens to you, think of the picture below!

Love to all,
The Oneryguy

Paul Horwinski and the Great Pizza Caper

With all of the demands on my time, such as work school, work, lawns, wife, work, kids, P.E., etc., the last thing I should be doing is updating this lame blog. But, my mind needs the break a little creativity can give it. By the way, by P.E. I mean that every Friday afternoon I take Dallin's class to P.E. That's right, I'm a Room Mom. I did the same for Abby's 5th grade class two years ago and did not learn better than to do it again. Besides, time with my Sunshine Bear (one of Dallin's many nicknames) is precious to me.

The first picture is of my family and some ugly old guy who jumped in to the picture. If you copy it and simply crop me out you have one nice photo! The picture below is of our scout camp out last Friday night. I have had two Friday nights off this year and I spent both of them with the scouts. I need some serious social re-training. A special thanks goes out to Debi for letting me borrow her PTA Wagon to pull the scout trailer. Inside the trailer is a camp stove that made for some good cookin'! Dallin and Zach came with me and we had a great time.

So anyway (my idea if a smooth transition), I have been spending too much time wrapping my mind around my accounting class. It has infiltrated my dreams. All I see at night are balance sheets, general journals, assets, liabilities, and other horrendous sights. Tonight, however, I am going to share the tale of Paul Horwinski and the Great Pizza Caper. I encourage you to read this with low expectations because then you will be less disappointed at the end.

I had wiped the blood off of my boots, but I still felt a little uncomfortable. They were only tiny spots. Three of them, each smaller than a tear drop, just above the pocket of my short sleeved white shirt. But in my mind those little blood stains were a flashing sign, revealing my uncleanliness to the world. I am much more relaxed now, but back then I was uncomfortable if there was a wrinkle in my shirt, a button missing, a hair out of place, or any other sign of sloppiness. I walked into Scene One Video and Pizza a little after one o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I had eaten many pizzas from there before, but I had never actually gone in and picked one up myself.

We had a tradition going on back then. It was some time in the late 90's and the four of us worked together in the meat shop at the old Provo Storehouse. I was the meat manager, married, the father of baby girl, ploding through an English degree at BYU one class at a time, and working 55+ hours a week to make ends meet. Johnny was single, getting a degree in Philosophy, and stocking the freezer. Johnny was a friendly guy, into sports, and always willing to help anyone. He spent a lot of time helping us, slicing meat and hams for customers, facing our counter, and making it a funner place to work. Cory was newly married and the supervisor over all of the meat departments. Saturday afternoons he always came in and had lunch with us. And this brings us to Paul.

Paul Edward, or Edward Paul Horwinski III. I can't remember the order of his name but I will never forget him. Paul was a character. He was also certified to fill propane tanks in the state of California. I know, he told me. And he showed me his license, complete with photo. Paul was a theatre major at BYU and one of the most interesting people I have ever met. We had many funny games going on in the meat shop, and they were eight hour games. That's right, each of Paul's shifts came complete with a theme and we did not break from it for anything. One of Paul's favorites was Fish Bowl Friday. He would close the sliding windows in the shop and pretend we were underwater. He would swim with his arms when he walked and he would blow bubbles with his mouth. When he spoke it sounded like he was gargling. Needless to say, I helped the customers at the window on Fridays. We got many strange looks from people, but it was fun. Another fun game, before I get back to the story, (I bet you don't even remember where this started) was Brian Wilson Day. Paul brought his CD player to work everyday and periodically would pronounce a day as Brian Wilson Day. This meant that he would loop the Bare Naked Ladies song Brian Wilson for the entire eight hours and sing along at the top of his voice. Non-stop. Again, a day when I helped all of the customers.

So anyway (another smooth transition) every Saturday afternoon Cory would come in and Johnny would make his way back to the shop and we would call Scene One Pizza next door and order our own individual pizza and drink meal. Then we would hand our cash to Paul he would go and pick the pizzas up. It struck me as odd that Paul always volunteered to go. He was, after all, notoriously lazy. (Slow motion day was another favorite of his). At times, he would simply lie down on the floor, curl up, and take a two-minute nap. Right in the middle of wrapping something. Understand this, I love Paul. And he was a fun guy to be around. He was even a very good worker, though he would deny that label to the death. But he loved to make a big deal about not doing anything more than the bare minimum. And that he said he did grudgingly. But every Saturday afternoon he jumped to volunteer to go and pick up the pizzas. Rain, shine, heat, blizzard, didn't matter. There were even Fridays when he left the fish bowl because we had decided to break with tradition and have pizzas twice in a week. He always covered it by saying he had to return a movie or pick one up while he was getting the pizza so it was actually saving him a trip, plus he was getting away from work, thereby increasing his laziness. But all the same, it still struck me as funny, and very out of character for him to volunteer to go. Besides, it involved walking, and doing something for someone else, both things Paul was diametrically opposed to doing.

This went on for several months until one fateful Wednesday when Paul had the day off. Johnny was done filling the freezer and had come in to see if I needed any help. This was before the flying frozen turkey incident, which is another story I may share, if you want to hear it. But, back to the fateful Wednesday. It was a slow day, the work for the day was done, and we were hungry. We decided to splurge a little and order pizzas. Johnny was helping a customer while I called in the order so I volunteered to go pick them up. Walking in I was overcome by the smell of great pizza. You know the smell. I was also a little disoriented after walking through the rows of videos. If you are old enough you will remember a time when there were businesses that rented VHS videos and sold pizzas. Our grandchildren will never believe such businesses existed, but they did. And they were glorious.

The combination of the aroma, the dizziness of walking through the maze, the John Cougar Mellencamp video blaring from multiple screens, and my self-consciousness over the blood spots on my shirt, left me a little disoriented. I had to apologize to the clerk and ask him to repeat what he had he just asked me.

"You got your card?"

"I don't want a movie, just the pizzas" I answered.

He rolled his eyes grabbed a small card and a hole puncher. Click, click, "here you go."

I looked at the card and asked, "So, how long have you guys been doing this card?"

"Longer than I've been here, that's about six, seven months now."

"Thanks," I said as I put the card in my wallet. I picked up the pizzas and the drinks and walked out with a smile on my face.

"Hey Johnny, get a load of this," I said as I handed him his pizza and the card.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The answer," I said. He looked a little puzzled and asked "the answer to what."

"You'll see tomorrow morning, let's eat!"

A little after six, Thursday morning and Paul walks into the shop and goes through his ritual. He gets his CD player out and plugs it in. He asks if I watched Mystery Science Theater the night before and then begins to tell me about it as he pulls on a clean smock. Johnny walks in behind him to say good morning. I motion him over.

"Paul," I asked, interrupting his diatribe, "could you tell me how this thing works?"

I handed him the card with two holes in it I had gotten from Scene One Pizza and Video the day before. A sheepish grin crossed his face and he knew he had been caught.

"Umm," he said, before I interrupted again.

"Now it seems to me that you buy four pizza meal deals and then get the fifth one at half price. Then you buy four more and get the tenth one free. Is that how it works?"

"Umm," was all he could get out. He knew he was dead in the water.

Johnny and I started to laugh.

"I knew there was something going on when you volunteered to pick up the pizzas. You rotten bugger, I knew it. When Edward Paul Horwinski the third goes out of his way to help someone, that someone can only be himself."

He looked a little embarassed and unsure. I started to laugh again.

"Well done, well done," I said as I handed him the card. "You might as well use this one too, just like you used us. And don't worry, I'm not mad. Anyone who can keep a con going on for as long as you did should be congratulated. But I am curious, how much have you spent out of pocket on pizza's since we started."

A little glint of pride showed up in his eyes and a smile cracked his lips as he told us, "well, since my roommate's like that pizza so much, and of course, being the generous person I am, I always offer to pick it up for them, as well as pick up or drop off movies for them, because after all, I am all about doing unto others, of course..."

"Of course," Johnny and I agreed.

"I think I paid for one pizza the first time I went in and they gave me a card. Since then, I've had sixty or seventy pizzas and paid nothing. I mean when I had to pay for the half price ones, I figured every ones change was like a delivery tip, so you know..."

That pizza theivin' bugger. I really wasn't mad at him. But I was sure jealous of his devious ways.

Well done, Paul, wherever you are!

Que Dia!

Talk about True Blue Cougar Fans!!!

I love taking the older kids to the BYU Football games. Go Cougars!!! You would not recognize the orneryguy at the game. I wear BYU t-shirts, I do all of the cheers (another cougar first down, BYU Cougars, etc.), I stand and sing the fight song and do the fist pumping rah-rah's, and I even stand and do the wave. In short, I am embarrassed to be me at the games, but I love it! It took me 38+ years to get over my self-consciousness enough to actually stand and yell and throw my arms in the air when the wave comes around. I even stand and dance when the band plays, moving my shoulders and shaking my bum. I actually have FUN!!! Dallin and Abby do not even recognize me at the game.

Oh yeah, baby, we sit at mid-field!!!

Except our seats are in the nosebleed section. This was a case of going in with low expectations and being pleasantly surprised. (No jokes about marriage here, please). Anyway, when I bought the tickets I warned the kids that we would be sitting on the next to last row and so they should not get their hopes up about enjoying much of the game. We took the binoculars and I was dreading the fighting we would have over who used them and when. But, when we got to our seats and turned around to watch the players warm up, we were shocked at how well we could see EVERYTHING! We can see the entire field at all times. Even all four corners of the end zone. And plays along the near sideline are not blocked from our view by the players. To make our seats perfect I want to move to the back row for next year. Seriously, the only better seats would be straight across on the top row of the west stands on the 50 yard line, because those seats get shade in the third quarter. But, those tickets cost a lot more. I get mine at a faculty/staff discount that is hard to beat.

A couple of Swinging Monkeys!

The people who sit behind us did not come to the Wyoming game today so we moved one row back to their seats. This picture was taken at the start of the fourth quarter. The diamond-plate box behind the kids is actually a folding platform that opens up to the light tower behind us. It is scary high and there is no way you would get me to walk out on it. Anyway, it is locked and it has chains attached to hold it level when it opened. The kids sat down inside of the chains for a minute when I got the genius idea to put their pads inside the chain. They loved it. Another reason I want those seats right behind us is because when the crowd starts stomping their feet to make it too loud for the opponents to call their plays, I was pounding on that gate with my fist and the noise was deafening to us. Banging on the wall around it just hurts your fist, but the gate itself is like a big bass drum. Again, I only like noise and chaos when I am the one making it. It is just another item on my long list of double standards!

MINI-ME!!!

Yeah, I am becoming a total nerd! A year ago you could not have gotten me to wear a BYU t-shirt, period. But, as a part of an assignment in my Organizational Behavior class, I wore a BYU sweatshirt while watching a game. It had to do with identifying yourself with your organizations culture. Anyway, anyone who knows me knows I am easily embarrassed by just about everything. If it involves having fun and allowing others to see you are enjoying yourself, well, it is just not allowed. Part of the dysfunctional upbringing I had. Ask Steph, she will vouch for the screwed-upedness we all got (he just made up that hyphenated word, didn't he?). Imagine being so messed up that you get embarrassed about what people will think about you for wearing a BYU shirt. Or being embarrassed sitting in a restaurant while people are singing 'Happy Birthday' to someone on the other side of the room. (Special note, we went to Los Hermanos tonight after the game, and I clapped and cheered along during one of those sing-a-longs, are you proud Steph? No, she is probably embarrassed that someone she knows was in a restaurant while singing took place :-)!)

No longer stifled by this weird insecurity, this year, we all got BYU blue before the first game and wear it religiously on game day. It doesn't matter if it is a home game or an away game. It is BYU Blue Baby!!! Before this game I bought BYU hats. Dallin and I got blue ones and Debi, Abby, and Emma got pinks ones. Then today we scored 5 more free shirts. They were handing them out on the way into the stadium. Now we have 5 matching BYU Blue shirts. We are the Nerd Herd (homage to 'Chuck', if you have seen it on NBC). It gets even worse, so watch out for the next paragraph!

You have been warned, so, proceed with caution. Tonight, at my insistence, all 5 members of the Crazy Lee family wore their BYU Blue shirts, and their hats, while we went to Los Hermanos and the grocery store. I am losing it. The mere thought of two of the five of us even dressing similarly used to be enough to send me into a tizzy. But tonight, I was the instigator of this unseemly behavior. Later on I noticed that Dallin and I were looking very similar and started calling him Mini-Me as we were walking around. I asked Debi to take the pictures. (Again, I usually run away from cameras). Help me, I am losing my orneriness!

I need to find something to complain about quickly before the orneryguy becomes mrhappy.

Grr, curse, grumble, :-(, etc !

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