Road Rage

I was driving home from work late last night when I was exposed to a monstrosity that looked something like this:

That's right, it was the Pontiac Aztek. I was terrified and angry. Driving one of these cars is irresponsible. The Aztek is easily the ugliest car on American roads and I hate it. It reminds me of this abomination that I used to see in France:

This is known as the Fiat Multipla. It was designed by Homer J. Simpson. The upper row of headlights is uglier than Large Marge.

These cars fill me with so much rage that I have to give myself a test for steroids after I see them to be sure that Alison isn't injecting me with performance enhancing drugs in my sleep so that I can be in the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame.

Happy Niu Year

This is the year of the ox.

Olly olly oxen free (and similar spellings) is a catchphrase used in the children's game of hide and seek to indicate that players who are hiding can come out into the open without losing the game.

The Ox is a power sign, like the Rat, Snake, Dragon, Tiger, and Monkey.

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Post-Holiday Life

I was looking at our blog the other day and realized Brandon has pretty much taken over. Hot dogs, football, Arctic sorceresses, poking fun at Deseret Book...pretty awesome, eh? Well, everything but the football part. I'm counting down the days until the end of the season but that is neither here nor there because my husband loves it and refers to the season as 'reaping the harvest.' That indicates that it is here to stay in our household and there is nothing I can do about it except learn to love it* and look forward to the day where we can afford a DVR and a home where we can put the TV in any room but the main one.

Anyways, we are enjoying our Post-Holidays life. Between driving across Colorado several times last month to see Brandon's immediate and extended family and then traveling to Arizona over New Year's to see my family and be there for my youngest brother's wedding, we are content being at home with our own peace and quiet.

Pretty much every night we've decompressed with a cup of hot chocolate, an episode of Band of Brothers, and snuggling with a down blanket.
Actually, the Band of Brothers part really isn't that relaxing. Has anyone seen it? While I don't regret watching it, each episode seriously makes me want to weep afterwards because in case anyone forgot, war sucks and messes with people's lives. So instead of saying, "Are you ready to watch Band of Brothers yet?" I now say "Should we watch people die now?" because that's what happens in every episode. But the routine is nice and the show after all is pretty remarkable and inspiring.

So in addition to our hot chocolate and Band of Brothers evenings, we've also become slightly addicted to this game you can play at http://games.yahoo.com/ called Super Collapse. Brandon stumbled on it and I couldn't help but become intrigued...
I don't really play any video games (I was just introduced to Guitar Hero and always have to be reminded how to play Mario Kart) and have been pretty much been interested in only a sporadic game of Tetris and/or Ms. Pac Man all my life, but this one comes close. Mainly because I'm amazing at it and put Brandon to shame the first time I tried it. Of course, he has since become aware of my smooth moves and will probably beat my high score any day now.

I'm telling you all this because I want you all to know the tricks of our calm and content lives. Why make the good stuff secret? Happy New Year everyone!




*I do want people to know that I actually made a small effort to enjoy football this season by having my own fantasy football team in a league created by my coworkers. About half way through the season, I got bored and made Brandon the official manager. He did OK at it, I guess. I really wanted to win but Brandon couldn't make that happen and I only came in 4th. ;) One of my players, though, was Plaxico Buress, and I'm grateful I at least became familiar with him; it actually helped me enjoy keeping up on his idiocy (remember how he accidentally shot himself in the leg at a night club and then turned himself in and lied about who he was and where the incident happened? You can't make stuff like that up).

I'm Not Fooled

I had an hour or so to kill before watching tonight's supposed championship football match, so I decided to share some knowledge. I'm not fooled by the name of tonight's game. I know who the real national champions are. (So does John Feinstein). If you're afraid to click on the links, I'll give you a hint:


This diagram can be rearranged any number of ways, but the Utah logo will always be at the top because the Utes did not lose to anyone. When you're the only team that hasn't lost to anyone all season and has beat quality opponents (see above), then you're the national champion. It's as simple as that. It's silly to me to think that reasonable people could conclude otherwise. Whoever wins tonight's game will forever be an impostor champion.

There are other impostors who currently walk among us. Many have fallen for their charades, but not me. I'm too sane.

Anyone who watched at least one minute of last year's Olympic Games heard about Michael Phelps' freakish body. His long torso and short legs made him into a human fish -- a merman. Well, he didn't get that way by accident. The truth is that Gheorghe Muresan never lost the will to compete and had his legs surgically shortened. He then got some plastic surgery to appear younger and changed his name to Michael Phelps. It's true. The resemblance is undeniable. See for yourself:



If you saw that documentary entitled "Enchanted", you'll understand that there is a process that enables animated characters to become real people. Well, Ariel wasn't the only one who wanted "to be where the people are." That dratted old sea witch has apparently made the transformation:

Couldn't anyone exposed to the abominable monstrosity that is Ursula O'Donnell be considered a poor unfortunate soul?

If you're like me, you hate Sarah Jessica Parker. Not only is she a terrible actress, she is also frequently cast as a love interest despite her hideousness. Seriously, you can't tell me that of all the people on the earth to put in the roles that she has played that she is in the top 90%. People pay good money to see superbabes at the movies and on tv and they're given that withered old lizard. What a fraud. It may surprise you to know that her fraudulence actually transcends these relatively superficial arguments. What you are about to see will convince you that she's a virtual chameleon. She often masquerades as Dee Snider (lead singer of Twisted Sister) and Seabiscuit:

Now you've seen through the BS and you didn't even have to use drugs.