Humor Me

I am sitting here being subjected to probably the dumbest movie I have ever seen; yet I have said that before and Justin comes through with one that is even more bizarre. Justin and my brother Kels are wiping away tears, while Taylor and I sit here completely dazed and confused. It's moments like this that the whole mystery of how women and men fall in love becomes even more pressing.

If Japanese film footage is dubbed over with silly high-pitched voices, it is the best movie ever made. If Will Ferrell is shirtless and hairy, it calls for a spew of root beer out of the nostrils. I don't get it.

It's quite intimidating when men say they want or look for humor in a girl. I mean, look what we're competing with.

I just saw an animated cow squirt milk out of his udders in a fight-match with a real human who was blue-screened in for goodness sake. How do I counteract that with my boring work stories and rundown of what I had for lunch?

I think I have a plan: If you can't beat them, join them:

1. The next time Justin asks me a question, I am going to mouth the answer, use extensive body language and then turn around and repeat my answer in a botched Japanese accent.

2. I am going to make myself fall down... a lot.

3. I am going to start my own imaginary band, make up ridiculous songs and wear really tight pants.

4. I am going to speak with a makeshift British accent.

5. I will kick guys below the belt everywhere we go.

6. I will name inanimate objects that I love within our livingroom. "I love lamp." "I love couch." "I love fireplace."

7. Bodily functions + public place + lots of people = love

8. I will be as destructive as possible when we visit friends and relatives. Stuff will be blown UP.

9. I will learn really bad karate.

10. I will run like a goof in really slow motion.

11. I will befriend a really weird animal who talks.

Lucky for us, men don't really want women who do all this. That's what their mindless (ehh, brilliant) movies are for. I think I'll just keep rolling my eyes in a show of gratitude for the crazy individuals who take over the hard part.

A Moo Perspective

We run this show. No one asked what we think.



-- Why Iz No 1 Boy-kotting Howw We Spel Insted?



-- I wonder how McDonald's feels about global warming?

-- Lady orders charbroiled chicken sandwich. We like spicy chicken sandwich. We still like the lady and serve her a charbroiled chicken sandwich.

-- I saw guy "share" Facebook boycott poster. Think I saw said guy in our very crowded drive-thru window.

-- Wut evur happned to that Kony 2012 rally?

-- So people who profess one thing and do another are hypocrites? And people who profess to one thing and are consistent are full of hatred? We're just cows-- so explain this to us.

-- Do you have games on your fone? Good. You're going to need it while you wait on your food at Burger King.

-- A reporter asked us what we thought and we said, "Moo." The news article really turned that quote into a cow patty.

-- You should still Eat Mor Chikin. You don't even want to research the beef industry if you think we're bad.

 

 

Ashton's Olympic Trials

It's that time. The time when you brush up on "The Star Spangled Banner" and wonder if you can hit the rockets' red glare part this year. The time when you suddenly become the #1 fan of a 13-year-old you've never heard of up until this point. The time when you decide that you should have joined the gymnastics class in kindergarten.

It's the Olympics, folks.

I just read an article that said we are sending more women this year than men, for the first time ever. You go girls. Then I read that our high jumper began to resume training shortly after giving birth: "My doctor wanted me to wait six weeks before I started training again. I waited two days!" says Lowe.

I have never had to push a child out of my body, but I can only imagine how it would feel to high jump after such an event. Ouch.

It's stories like that that make me realize why I am not a real Olympic athlete. However, I feel like if some events were added to the docket, I could really have a shot:

The Olympic Data Entry Competition-- Give me a keyboard, 15 addresses, 3 people telling me stories about their ingrown toenail, cheating boyfriend and crappy job, as well as a ringing phone and I will not make one mistake. I will type in that zip code and go for the gold.

The Olympic Popcorn Eating Competition: Cheesy cheddar, kettle corn, triple white cheddar, movie theater. I will win in every category.

The Laundry Pile High-Jump: To avoid actually washing clothes, each country will let their cumulative laundry create a landfill. My practice with jumping over a month's worth of underwear will prove me to be victorious in this specific event.

The Pretty Little Liars Marathon: Two competitors will sit side by side on a couch and see who can stay in their pajamas the longest while not taking their eyes off of the continuously playing Netflix. Bring it on, Japan. I got this.

The Ritzy Relay: Competitors are locked in a large department store. All cute shirts are $5 except for 3. The goal is to fall in love with the 3 shirts that are way more than $5. Winner.

The Sleepy Bobsled Race: Goal: Stay asleep during the entire bobsled run.

The Whiny Javelin: The victor in this competition will hurl the most elaborate whines. Put on your Pull-Ups, Germany. Wait. I don't want to do this. It's hot. And I don't feel like going anywhere. I'm hungry.

I may not be able to birth a child and then hit the track. But I am a fierce competitor who has been training since I was a very small child.

So pass me some popcorn and I'll go put on my pajamas.

Let the games begin.

Reaction to a Tragedy

I have heard two country songs within the last few years that have caused me to stop and think. For those of you country haters who follow my husband's lead, you are probably thinking that in itself is quite a feat. But I press on:

The first one, called "Angel Eyes," goes on to say,

"There's a little bit of devil in her angel eyes
She's a little bit of heaven with a wild side
Got a rebel heart a country mile wide
There's a little bit of devil in her angel eyes
A little bit of devil in her angel eyes."

The other one, made famous by Toby Keith, "God Love Her," talks about a girl who was "baptized in dirty water" and holds fast to "me and the Bible on the back seat of my motorcycle."

These are both super catchy, and I've found myself singing them quite a number of times. But I've always stopped to think: Can you really be both? Can purity and rebellion coexist?

Tragedies like the massacre today in Colorado only fuel this thought process for me.

Sometimes we dumb down and glorify sin, thus undermining the significant sacrifice that Jesus made to abolish it.

Sin is so much darker than we even let ourselves fathom. We may light-heartedly tell our children that sin is simply pushing a child down on the playground or saying "No," to your parents-- but we often adopt this mentality ourselves in the process.

Jesus came to redeem the world from masked murderers who kill innocent people who just wanted to watch a movie. He came to extinguish every dark blot that we have plaguing our lives.

So don't settle for having a little bit of devil in you. Don't find a girl attractive because she goes to church on Sunday and rebels the other 6 days of the week.

Strive for purity. Strive for perfection. Strive for a Christ-like spirit.

And live as big as the sacrifice.

The Top 11 (yes, 11) Things I Miss About Being a Kid

 

Man, VBS makes me miss being a kid. The songs, the motions, the free cookies. As an adult you now realize just how many times you have repeated that verse and that cookies no longer reside all over your fruit punch-stained face, but rather on your derriere. It's made me contemplate the Top 11 (Yeah, just to be different) things I miss about childhood.

1. No one cares if you run around with no clothes on. 

2. You can yell out goofy things in church and people smile at you.

3. Your underwear boasts designs from your favorite show. How come I can't have boy shorts with the cast from "How I Met Your Mother" on it? 

4. You can eat Lucky Charms without Fiber One giving you the stare-down from the top shelf.

5. When you're in a bad mood, you get sent to your room to be alone.

6. People cheer when you go to the bathroom. We could all use a little support now, and I don't mean from a powdered substance mixed in grape juice. 

7. Others force you to take naps.

8. Only requesting two alternating meals doesn't signal immaturity and a lack of adventure. 

9. Getting up at the crack of dawn seemed like a good idea.

10. Your clothes always had a single digit on the tag.

11. You only have to answer to two important questions: "How old are you?" and "What's your name, pretty girl?" One of them can be answered by just holding up a few fingers. 

 

 

Warriors

I did something way out of my element today. You're probably picturing something really adventurous and cool. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But, nevertheless, for me it was quite the feat. 

I went to do bootcamp at 5:15 a.m. You read that right. A.M. Like it's still dark outside a.m. Like you don't even know if you should eat breakfast because your body might misconstrue it for a midnight snack a.m. 

Because I have VBS every night this week after work, I decided I didn't want to give up on my workouts like I did last week for various reasons. So my friend and I decided we would see how the other half lives. I can now cross this off the "copy these people" list; the list that haunts me when I meet one of the individuals I aspire to be. Obviously, I have a ways to go. 

Be a chipper person who wakes up at 5:00 a.m. and participates in strenuous physical activity.

Be that warrior who says, "No, I'll have a side of apple wedges," when asked if you want fries with that.

Be the person who drives through Chick-fil-a, reads all the "low calorie" options thoughtfully planted in the shrubs as you weave through the line, and doesn't order a chicken biscuit in defiance.

Be the person who says, "Oh, it's raining outside. I can't believe I'm not going to get my 10-mile run in today."

Be the person who can create that perfect pony tail.

Be the person who makes the recipe everyone talks about at an event.

Be the person who thinks almonds are a really good snack.

Be the person who doesn't wash a load of clothes and leave it in there until it needs to be washed again...twice.

Be the person who doesn't look like they just received the worst news of their life in every candid photograph.

Be the person who can stay awake during an entire movie with their husband.

Be the person who irons clothes and doesn't just think, "People will just think I've done a lot of running around today." 

As you can see, I have a lot to live up to. Other women just amaze me, mothers in particular. I've seen women bring their babies to boot camp, rocking their infant between leg lifts. 

How?

Women in front of me who looked like 5 a.m. was a good night's rest.

How?

The girl next to me who can order oatmeal at the best chicken joint in the world. 

How?

I am heading to the gym early for day 2. Who knows-- after a while, maybe I will be able to settle for apple wedges.

Small Talk

The past few years have rendered me a jack of all trades. I say that like I can fix your sink and program your computer. Which I can't. 

What I mean is, within the past 3 years, I have worked at a magazine, medical clinic, elementary school and now bank. Talk about an identity crisis of sorts. 

Each experience has brought its own set of lessons, customers and small talk. The small talk is what I will be focusing on today. It intrigues me that each professional setting brings with it a set list of phrases. You don't even realize you're doing it. I don't even realize I'm doing it. 

We had this going thing at the elementary school. Parents would come in and ask to check their child out of class. One of the secretaries would utter, "We have this deal going on right now. Get one student, receive 10 more free. But we get to choose." 

Some parents laughed, some didn't get it, some looked like that is the worst possible thing you could do to them.

At the medical clinic, you'd say, "How are you doing today?" and right when you uttered it, you expected the usual: "Well, if I was doing really well, I wouldn't be here right now." Touche. Good point sir.

It's funny how natural this comes to us as human beings. It's like we were innately born with the ability to be corny. I've been in banking two weeks and I'm already catching on to the banter. You know the "You can add a few more zeros to that if you want," joking remarks. If I'm counting money, I can expect at least one cute old man to say, "You giving that away?"

Waitresses give the bill to an unlikely paying candidate with a "This is all on you, right?" Laughs happen, the tab is passed on and she gets an extra dollar for being the first person to crack that joke.

Some people hate on the South especially for majoring in small talk. Why does my stock broker want to know how I'm doing? 

I'd be lying if there were times I didn't wonder what it was for-- but then I realize that small talk is a big deal. Every time I repeat a standard response or hear a common joke, I try to remember that an ounce of unoriginal kindness beats a unique put-down any day. 

So go out into all the world ...

and be a complete cheeseball. 

“Being Southern isn't talking with an accent...or rocking on a porch while drinking sweet tea, or knowing how to tell a good story. It's how you're brought up -- with Southerners, family (blood kin or not) is sacred; you respect others and are polite nearly to a fault; you always know your place but are fierce about your beliefs. And food along with college football -- is darn near a religion.” 
― Jan Norris

Out of the Loop

I am beyond grateful for my new job. It came at just the right time, when I was getting unemployed cabin fever at the house and was being dropped from my parents' insurance on the dawning of my 26th birthday. With its new presence, however, comes once again the lull in my blog writing.

Not that any of you have me bookmarked on your favorites and have been faithfully checking every day-- wringing your hands when you find an old entry staring you in the face. Ok, so maybe that's what I like to picture.

I also have to ask myself: What in the world do I even write about? I don't seem to get worked up into a frenzy about much anymore-- and that's usually the inspiration that fuels my finger-typing fury.

You've got the healthcare thing. Nah. Skip that. I would have to actually research what Marxist and Socialist and all that means. Well, now that I think about it, that's not really even necessary to be a proclaimer of vital information.

There's the election thing. I don't really like anyone in particular enough to pretend like I do. I learned to stop ingesting what people think I want to hear on a bad date with a handsy smooth talker in junior high. Why revert back?

But perhaps the controversy above all controversies is the apparent desecration of the female mind. The only gray to appear on some women's radar was the streak slowly manifesting its way across their bangs. Then enter "Fifty Shades of Grey." The only magic many mothers experienced was a card trick performed by their cape-clad 2nd grader. Then "Magic Mike" appeared on the scene. 

One scroll down on my computer screen blares a drooling cartoon woman uttering something about Channing Tatum. The next click of my mouse takes me to a blog with 15 Bible verses explaining why seeing the movie is wrong. Though polar opposite views, they both leave out a very important demographic.

People who are striving to find why this is even an issue. People wondering why a bandwagon is created for some things and completely abandoned in other circumstances. Why seeing a movie that broadcasts its undesirable plot line deserves more rebuke than one whose rating didn't stop you from buying a ticket. 

I haven't read the book or seen the movie, nor can I say that I condone their messages. But I can say that I think I have found the underlying desire here.

Women aren't watching this because they are necessarily unfulfilled in love. Women aren't reading to even the dirty magazine scorecard with men. Bloggers aren't writing their scolds in the privacy of their diaries. People aren't really seeing drastic changes post-healthcare legislation.

People want to be accepted. They want to be in a group. They want to be passionate. They want to see changes with a Facebook status update. They want to have something to talk about at work.

That's why women are flocking to the cinema and to Barnes and Noble. Channing's abs may be a fraction of the reason, but the real reason lies in the actual terminology: the flocks. Women, men, kids, we want a flock.

Something in common. Something to bring up. Somewhere that strips away the monotony of the daily routine.

The best thing I have done for myself in my adult life was to get out of the loop. Loops are exhausting. And at high speeds can make you sick. So get out.

Not because someone told you it was wrong. Or that it isn't cool to talk about anymore. Or that you can't be who you say you are and do it. 

Get out because you will find a peace that passes understanding-- and the right people will in turn flock to you.