The Artist Formerly Known as...

Lake Powell was AWESOME! We had a great time with 2 great families. I especially want to thank the kids for putting up with me, laughing at my jokes and allowing me to pinch them with my freakishly long toes. My friend Nic (see Left) also bestowed upon me the nick name of "Sean" (not Shawn, Shawn, so relax) I can only imagine this honor was bestowed on me because of my striking resemblance to Sean "Puff Daddy""P. Diddy""Diddy""P. Diddle""P.Dizzle, fo Shizzle" Combs. And in his great tradition I will also take a new nickname, G. Diddy, and will refer to myself only in the third person, that's the way G. Diddy rolls, and if you don't like it, well G. Diddy doesn't care, cuz G. Diddy cant be bothered with other peoples feelings!

Now that we have that out of the way, G. Diddy would like to continue. Our family retreat to Lake Powell was a great time. We each had food responsibilities, cleaning responsibilities and every one pitched in to make sure that no one was burdened with the clean-up for 16 people. The Quilters and Robinson's ferried us around in their boats and taught anyone who wanted to how to ski or wake board. As you might expect, the water was chilly, this is a photo of G. Diddy swimming, brrr. For some fun, Nixon tried to run down the face of a cliff and broke his arm. G Diddy thanks Eric for his help getting him put back together and getting him out of the canyon and back to the marina. Nixon's fracture is minor and he will return to action soon with no noticeable physical damage. Sara, in spite of her natural tendencies, was a trooper! She stayed with Easton while we went to the hospital in PRICE!(Are you kidding me, no one in Southern Utah ever thought that an x-ray machine would be useful! Or is everyone else comfortable with a 3 hour drive to have an emergency room) Sara fought the wake board for what seemed like hours until she finally got up on the board, fortunately great comedy followed, but a valiant effort none the less. Nixon did a great job reminding everyone that he was handicapped and miserable, and Easton relished the fact that he was not the one hobbled by a sling. As promised G Diddy did develop some good color and the sun and exercise helped me chisel of some unwanted pudge. G Diddy's wife took this mildly embarrassing photo at the dock while G Diddy was loading fuel. All in all it was a great time. We found out that Nixon will not need surgery and will have his cast for only three weeks. Again a special thanks to the Robinsons and Quilters for enduring to the end with G Diddy's family, hopefully we will be invited back for round II. And also a special thanks to Root, the fetchinest dog in the West. This dog is so blinded by his desire to chase sticks that he can not think of anything else. I tried to help him by admonishing him to "put off the natural dog" but he couldn't overcome his impulses, poor dog.

On an unrelated topic, G Diddy is also grateful to Elder Oaks for his wise council. I have started to reevaluate my starter marriage and will be looking forward to finding my permanent wife, feel free to forward me any suitable prospects for my review.

Cafe Rio is to Mexican Food as...

Finally someone is giving Taco Bell a run for they're money! I wasn't to worried when I thought it was just a food fetish, but then I found this CD under the bed, covered in salsa and sour cream. There is nothing special about Cafe Rio's food, or music. Its made by white teenagers in a controlled environment that's cleaner than my bathroom, whats authentic about that? If you want authentic try this. Sean Johnson, his brother-in-law Kyle and I went to Tijuana, Mexico and ate authentic Mexican food. It was prepared on a street corner near Revolution Blvd. While we were eating our 3 for $1.00 tacos (Pollo, Carne Asada or Carnitas- meat not guaranteed to be authentic) the Tijuana Police rolled up, grabbed some guy off the street, smacked him around, tossed him in a truck and drove off! Kyle had been home from his mission for like 72 hours and was still a little wet behind the ears and I may or may not have been the best choice to break him back into the real world. We took him to the Church of the Blessed Whore (Catholic Church next to Brothels and Strip Clubs) He did make a very valuable purchase, he brought $40 to Mexico and spent it all on...fake Oakleys, but to be fair he did do it within the first half hour we were in Mexico so he did shop around. To the left is a picture of Sean Johnson after we picked him up from the "watering hole" he wanted to visit. My point is this, Cafe Rio is bland tasteless American food, anyone who goes through the trouble of driving more than the length of the driveway to find it needs to have their head examined. For real authentic Mexican food you need to go to Wahoos Fish Tacos, the best there is, I will not debate this. If you think anything else is better, well you sir are an idiot.

As Jennifer noted we did have a brief return of our winter weather, she was thrilled to bring out her sexy long johns again. Unfortunately they were still a smidge rank from the months of overuse this winter, although they were easy to find as they were standing in the corner of the room. As of today the valley is free of snow and Spring has re-sprung with a new Springiness which was previously un-sprung because of its Spingcociousness.

We did also have an opportunity to watch Nixon, Master of all he surveys, play the precocious Finn O'Grady, a bit under his ability but interesting all the same. I attended the matinee and was overcome with anticipation, this photo was

taken of me prior to the third act. The only thing worse than watching your kid in a 4th grade production of "Billy, Blowey and Bumpersnick" or something like that, is watching other peoples kids in it. Nixon had fun, someone told me that was the point, so it was worth it? Perhaps its out of his system now, he tried out with a friend, wanted a small part. His friend quit and he ended up in the lead, lucky us.

Now I prepare for our trip to Lake Powell! I have not taken a legitimate vacation in over 10 years. Every trip we take has some alternate purpose, baptism, weddings, blessings, graduations, etc. I have now responsibility in Lake Powell other than to not drown myself or anyone else and bar-b-que some beef, the beef I am qualified for. I also intend to work on my elusive tan. I will not go through another summer of people saying "hey there are two white strings hanging from your shorts...oh wait its your legs" The picture you see at the bottom is the "before" photo, wait till you see what a few days in the sun do for me. I am sure upon my return I will have quite a few situations which will call for my swift and poignant rebuttal, until then men, stay alert and lock up the frying pans!

Let No Good Deed Go Unpunished...

After my last entry I wrongly assumed that I would have a warm reception from my lovely wife. After all, I stayed at home to provide for my family, while she went to visit friends and family in her native state. 4 days I wondered in the wilderness alone, surviving off Hungry Man Fried Chicken dinners and stale Doritos. As I braved the harsh Park City winter alone my one thought was for the happiness of my family, and I dreamed of our glorious reunion. I was in the home stretch on Monday, around 9:00pm when I got the long awaited call from my wife and children. Easton spoke first and told me how much fun they were having (I was lancing boils on my feet from another long days work). Nixon spoke of the beach and friends and the fabulous fun they were having (while I sat with a heat pad on my back, strained from yet another days work to support my family). Then it slipped, I told Nixon I couldn't wait to see him the next day, he then said "we're not coming home tomorrow, we're going to..." through the phone I heard the muffled sounds of panic. I made out the sound of Jennifer's voice as she said "I haven't told him yet." Thus began my downward spiral of despair. Jennifer proceeded to tell me they were staying another day to go to Disneyland, the happiest place on Earth! (remember this slogan as it has great importance later) Wanting nothing more than the happiness of my family I swallowed my disappointment and despair and told them to have a great time.

This is a photo of Jennifer, Nixon and Easton at Disneyland March 20, 2007 the day the were supposed to come home to me. I, after getting off the phone, proceeded to go moderately insane. Left nearly alone (Sara was home, but she likes to sit in her room and stare at the wall, she is not a conversationalist, unless you are a 17 year old boy) out of Hungry Man dinners and never knowing when they would return, I lost it.

This is a picture of me trying to talk to Sara, she is a good listener, but doesn't talk much. Needless to say, it was a tough day. After I worked another 18 hour day, I returned home, Sara was asleep, I was all alone, I cried myself to sleep. I spent Wednesday in anticipation of a great reunion. Jen and the boys returning from their 5 day sabbatical, Jennifer having been away for our anniversary, beach, Jonny Rockets, Disneyland, In-N-Out, surely they would be all smiles and hugs, wouldn't they? Alas no. Jennifer came home after making a 9 hour drive in only 18 hours and had the temperament of a wounded, cornered lioness. This picture was taken as she pounced through the door on her arrival. No relief to be home, no hugs and kisses, just claws and fangs and fury. I was admittedly a little surprised by here mood, and although it was 3:00am I endured her onslaught for 30 minutes before finally throwing in the towel. I never realized how stressful a day at Disneyland could be! I was thinking of a slightly warmer reception, after all I had put on my Shakespeare cap and broadcast my feelings to her throughout the world. It all went unnoticed. I have been since then been wishing to be a leper, at least then she would show some pity towards me instead of the bitter contempt I am currently receiving. Now as I read her blog to try and find a happier, friendlier Jennifer I find that I am being assaulted on the internet as well as at home (unfortunately not in the bedroom). She has no right to question anything that I purchase, better to spend $40 on something once, then spending money every month for her gym membership, when did you last go? Weeks? Months? Stoneware, Pampered Chef, Close to My Butt...or Heart, who knows what else. Jennifer is no bastion of shopping restraint, she has spent more money at Disneyland than Walt ever did and has nothing to show for it! Walt at least has the park, and her money, what does she have!

My point is this, never be nice, or try to show your wife how you feel. It will be cast aside and trampled by her thoughtlessness as she tries to make herself seem funny to her cadre of simple-minded acolytes. I am now more alone than ever before, alone in a room full of people I used to call my family. Someday I hope my wife does return from her vacation. The woman who returned to me is not her, this woman is mean and insensitive and has only looked for the negative. It really makes me wonder, was Oprah at Disneyland last Tuesday? Did she hypnotize Jennifer and send her back to spy on me? Have my sons been compromised? These are the thought roaming the expanse of my mind, the woman I love appears to be gone and I am left to fight alone. Be cautious, if Oprah can get to me, we are all doomed.

12 Years I Haven't Deserved...

Twelve years ago today Jennifer and I were married. The whole thing was such a blur that thankfully we have these photos to help me remember. Those poor souls who are unfortunate enough to frequent this blog know that I, on occasion, poke fun at my lovely wife. However I would like the world to know that she is without question the greatest inspiration, blessing and friend I have ever known. Our twelve years together have not always been easy, but it has always been worth it, for me. I have never understood what could possibly have brought this amazing woman into my life. She has always been my greatest ally and cheerleader, even when she thought I was doing something completely insane. I would like to take a few minutes to tell her, and you, some of the things I love most about her, because I don't do it enough. Plus now its on record and she can go back and read it again the next time she feels picked on!

My wife puts up with and on occasion even encourages my insane love of sports. When we first met she claimed to be a big sports fan, and she was, for a girl. I don't think she could have ever imagined how involved I was in sports. I have millions of useless trivial facts floating around in my brain, 70% of them are sports related. One of my favorite things is Sportscenter, especially in the morning. It never ceases to amaze Jennifer that I can watch the same episode two or three times in succession with out going insane. This picture is from our trip to the World Series in Phoenix. I love that I was able to share that day with her, and that the Diamondbacks were able to beat the evil henchmen of Lord Stienbrenner! Whether it has been as an athlete (I use that term loosely) or spectator, my wife has always been willing to support me. She doesn't always think its such a great idea, but she supports me. One of my greatest joys is playing and having my wife and kids there to watch, it means more to me than I can say. I think it somehow validates to me that I am important to them, I know it sounds silly, but I am a silly boy.

Jennifer is the best wife and mother I could have ever hoped for. Over the years I have watched her suppress her own wishes and desires to make sure that my children and I could be happy. She is the most selfless person I know, which may not sound that amazing considering my circle of friends. She is always focused on our family and ways to make it better. She has given me years worth of reading about parenting and having a gospel centered family, someday I may even read some of it. She is always trying to make us better, not by criticizing or mockery (my preferred methods) but through patience, love and example. Whatever good there is in my children, whatever good may become of them, is all due to the influence of their mother. I hope that as they grow (pay attention Sara) that they will recognize and cherish the great influence she is and will tell her how grateful we all are to have her in our lives.

She is beautiful! Look at her, then look at me. I have more chins than a Chinese phonebook and yet she is with me. I know that she complains about having bad eyes, she wants a new prescription for her glasses-yeah right. The only reason we have lasted this long is that my face is blurry enough to be confused as handsome. of the many regrets I have, not telling her how beautiful she is has to be near the top. I love her smile and her kind eyes. I love her laugh, especially when she thinks I am funny. I love to watch her teach the kids, or hold them when they cry. In the morning, I love her smell, its very comforting. I love that she is hopelessly in love with me, and I with her. As I write this she is in another state, and I am lonely. I am half the man I could be with out her here. I love the line Jack Nicholson uses in the film "As Good As It Gets." Helen Hunt wants a complement, and he says "you make me want to be a better man." Not only does that apply for me, but you make me a better man. Anything that I am, or have, or will be is because of you. I spend every day trying to be worthy of you loving me, of choosing to be mine and holding me to you and making me more than I could be with out you. You are all that is good in my life, our children are a reflection of your beauty and love, and they make me love you more.

I could go on forever extolling the virtues of my good wife. I sum it up with this wish. I wish to grow old with you, to have you hold me when I cry, to laugh with me and to pick me up when I fall. I wish to see sunrises and sunsets, mountains and valleys, travel the world with you by my side. To see you with our children's children, to help you count grey hairs and wrinkles. I wish to sit on the porch and gently rock as the world passes us by, knowing that we have found each other, and there is nothing else that matters in life, I love you with all my heart, thank you for loving me. Happy Anniversary, only 12 down, eternity to go. I Love You

Your Honor the Defense wishes to call...

Me! My wonderfully slow witted wife has recently attempted to goad me into some kind of literary sparring match, to validate her bored ramblings with some sort of response. So in an effort at peace and harmony in my home I shall now offer my reasonably sane counterpoints to her obviously insane, inane and trivial diatribe on the spectacular goings on of her daily routine.
1) Summon Your Eagle Powers: first I will concede that I did not think that involving our mildly retarded children in this process was a great idea. However, when pressed, I relented and added that our motto would end up being whatever Easton said first. Why? He is our comedian and he also happens to have his mother tightly wound around his little, broken pinky. Sara and Nixon are powerless against his humor and wit and typically will encourage him to the point of public humiliation for his parental units. If Easton had said "the moon is made of yellow cheese" Jennifer would be examining the Dead Sea Scrolls to find some spiritual relevance.
2)RIP Dear Friend: yes it is true, the 6th member of our family has passed away. We adopted that cute little guy in 2001, gave him a good home and he in turn always made us laugh, or cry-but was always there for us. I was beginning to fear for him recently, as I noticed my wife beginning to abuse him and take him for granted. Leaving him on for hours at a time, forcing him to watch home improvement shows, torturing him with the likes of Good Day Utah and of course the death nail, Oprah. In the end he died malnourished and suffering, it makes me fear for my children, perhaps I should be more involved at home...no that would just eliminate my alibi. Alas, good bye, you will be missed, may you show only episodes of Sportscenter and the A-Team in the next life, well done my good and faithful servant. (am I going to Hell?)
3)Its a good thing: Well, well, well. My greatest suspicions have finally been confirmed. Gentlemen beware, one day your wife will be shopping at a grocery store, like every other god
fearing, republican housewife should. Then the next thing you know, you've got milk on the doorstep. What else does he deliver? And why am I never home when this happens? We had a similar problem when we lived in Provo, it was a mailman. The only lasting effect of that was 5 women on our street ended up pregnant, I will have to monitor this very carefully. As for the radio station, it is a steaming pile of liberal propaganda! I have heard more moderate commentary from radio Saigon. The attitude of Park City, especially with regard to politics, is that we should be as left wing, socialist, communist as possible. Why you ask? Because it doesn't matter! Its like a republican presidential vote in California, by the time the rest of the state has weighed in at the polls, the Park City agenda is brushed aside like the stinking pile of refuse that it is. Perhaps I am being to hard on the "enlightened" masses in Park City, and if I am...tough!
4) California Here I Come: mentally she never left. Our relationship is turning into one of those "I waited for my missionary" relationships that you are warned about. The kind where the missionary goes and has life changing experiences, great spiritual and emotional growth. Meanwhile, the wife...I mean girl waiting, sits at home and laments her state of affairs and wishes she were somewhere else. You may all have the freedom to decide who is who in this scenario. (hint: Jennifer cries about Disneyland and Jonny Rockets)
5) Spring is springing: for those of you that thought your wife could never look anything but
beautiful, move to the Arctic (or Park City) and learn to live with layers. Jennifer is adjusting very nicely, to the right is a photo I took of her this afternoon in her new spring outfit. Honestly, the woman has never been warm a day in her life. When we lived in Scottsdale, she complained about the cold...in August. Perhaps I should have thought this out a little better prior to moving here, but alas, I am but a man and am extremely limited in my ability for cognitive thought. She has been a trooper, to her credit, by the end of the winter she was only sitting on the heat vent crying and telling me she hated me once a day, so we have progress. As much as I mock her, she has been great, she took a flying leap with me (again) and has had absolute faith that we would land on our feet. I may tease her, and poke fun, but she is the best thing that has ever happened to me, I thank my Heavenly Father every day that he forgot to give her the frontal lobe to her brain, thus giving her just the right amount of brain power to suit me.
6) Supermarket Sweep: I knew it was time for Tim to move when his whole day revolved around this show. He was sinking, and taking my wife with him. You know you are in the 3rd level of hell when you can come into your home every day for a week to the frantic cries of "get the meat you idiot, no the steak, are you retarded!" This was a dark chapter in our lives. Nixon and Easton, both in diapers, free ranging around the house, left to their own devices, while Tim and Jennifer shout at the TV for hours on end. Now she wonders why they don't listen to her. There have been several "episodes" where my sweet, simple wife has all but given her life to one TV show or another, I think its a Markin thing. Tim had to go into rehab for his Jerry Springer addiction. Becky lost months to her Mandarin Drama relapse. And as Jennifer so eloquently stated in her own blog, she is suffering some severe withdrawals of her own. If TV meant so much to her, why did she kill it? The female mind is a terrible thing, to waste I mean.
There you have it, 30 minutes and I am all caught up. My wife would have you believe that this is a 30 minute a day task, but we have already addressed her shortcomings in the grey matter department. As a side note, I am finding a growing need to consult a Divorce Attorney, please advise if you know any that work on contingencies. Be vigilant and cautious, Oprah is watching.

Don' Call it a Comeback...

Ah, the immortal words of a young LL Cool J. Contrary to popular opinion I have not been rendered mute by my wife's incessant nagging. I have been watching and reading, waiting for the right moment to unleash my next blast. The wait is over.

I have received a few queries as to my fear/hatred/loathing of Oprah, allow me to explain. I know what she is up to, I know how this will end and I am duty bound to inform the world. She will not stop until she destroys the world, look out men, she is after us. What truly frightens me, is that most men won't know it until it is to late. One day, most likely soon, you or a man like you, will sit with his female counterpart to watch the latest edition of "Oprah's Favorite Things" the show where Oprah gives gifts to her audience. She will walk out on stage and introduce her BFF and new aide de camp, Gayle King. Gayle will enter, stage left, they will hug and kiss each other on the cheeks and, holding hands, turn to the audience. Oprah, seeming very nervous and jumpy will address the audience saying "today is the day we have all looked forward to!" From the side of the screen a new, female, stagehand will wheel out a table with two colorful boxes resting on it. Oprah and Gayle will walk to the table as Oprah babbles of past gifts, cars, jewelry and others. Oprah then turns to the camera and exclaims "this is, by far, the greatest gift I have ever given, a gift to my worldwide audience, a gift that will change the world!" Gayle, on cue, removes the lid from her box. She reaches into the box and quickly pulls out the severed head of Dr. Phil. Oprah throws the lid from her box and pulls out the severed head of her erstwhile lover Steadman Graham. Holding the head of her longtime man high over her head she laughs maniacally and screams "revolution, revolution, revolution!" Oprah and Gayle link arms and begin to dance around the stage, laughing and screaming "revolution" at the top of their lungs. Men the world over will sit up on their couches and turn to their wives/girlfriends only to find they are now alone. The question of where our ladies have gone is not even fully formed in our minds when a frying pan obliterates the backs of our skulls. Men from all regions gather in the afterlife asking the same question, "what the hell just happened?"

Oprah's Utopia will flourish, initially, as women around the world round up what is left of the unwanted male species. All adult males will be sacrificed on the alter of estrogen, while younger males are allowed to survive for a time as "donors" you see, even Oprah knows we serve a purpose. The donors are housed in one central medical prison, and are allowed to exist until they are unable to "donate." They are last seen walking into the woods, followed by a woman with a frying pan and never seen again. The fractures of Oprah's society will show subtly at first. Women with no one to impress will become obese, creating a world health crisis. Razors will become obsolete and feminine hygiene factories will be burnt to the ground during riots. All will seem fine. Then in the recess's of some urban metropolis it will all come undone. Two women, unbeknownst to each other, walk towards each other wearing the same outfit, violating the 1st Amendment of Oprah's Bill of Rights. As the women notice each other the small fissures of this wretched society will become gaping valleys of discord. First a few verbal taunts, then a small standoff, then, cat fight. History will record this as "the Mother of all Cat Fights" a brawl that spreads like a virus across the face of this planet. After several months of vicious pillow fighting and lingerie assaults the last vestiges of female humanity will flock to the plains of Kansas to procure "donations" in an attempt to rebuild this altered Utopia. The donors however after months of isolation have devised a plan and lay in wait for their captors. As the last women enter the prison they are attacked and killed as the prisoners fight for the freedom they have been denied. Unfortunately the men will soon die, unable to care for themselves and unable to procreate, the human race becomes extinct.

This is how Oprah destroys the world, she will lose sight of the one truth in all of humanity, women hate women. This is a very bleak look into our future, however, if we as men are diligent and alert we can stave off this brutal attack bent on the destruction of the world. We must be diligent, wary and proactive, or reap the consequences!

this SUCKS!

I started this stupid thing to mock my wife, and post a "witty" comment on her stupid blog. Well guess what, technology screwed me again. I went through the whole drill and when I was done my comment was lost in cyberspace and I had to start all over. Someday when I rule the world we will go back to the way God intended us to live, in caves, with a slightly sharpened rock, chasing wild animals and dreaming of fire...I miss the simple life.

So now I am a blogger, perhaps I will become one of the famous bloggers who are treated as celebrities by the media, with my luck this will one day lead to my inevitable arrest and imprisonment. Never the less I will blog on, to show the world the truth. This is in fact intended to provide a sane and reasonable alternative to the mush and lies destined to emanate from my wife's blog, "the high life", hopefully between the two blogs you will find a happy medium, much like crossfire, (thus the address barbercrossfire I know, pretty ingenious, what will Oprah do for bright ideas after she has all the men killed, I am sure this will be addressed again)or one of those polarizing TV shows that make everyone think they are right. I have to go now, my wife is over my shoulder, correcting me and it is defeating my sense of mockery on which this entire blog is founded.

Fight on brothers, we must make a stand now before Oprah sounds the call and we will all be dead, or castrated and cast aside as relics like sharp rocks and fire.

why are my spouse and I speaking different languages?

I swear I speak English, but I need a translator for my wife to understand me! I guess that's why I am practically celibate, I wish I were a priest, then I would be getting some.

why does this always happen to me

I suppose I should have paid attention to Mrs. Boothe in computer Ed. in high school. Then I wouldn't constantly have technology taking advantage of me!