F is for Furry Friend...

... There's a small, man-made lake about a block from our apartment, and when it's not raining, I like to take walks around it. Lately, I've seen this little furry guy whenever I go:

I looked him up online, and I'm pretty sure he's a coypu. Apparently, they're not that great for the environment, but I really like watching out for him. He's kinda cute.

Additionally, there are a lot of Canadian geese at the lake right now, down for the winter, and I really, really want to catch one and eat it. But I think that might be illegal.

C is for Celebrate, and for Cataan...

... Alma and I rang in the New Year playing this German gem with some friends until 3 in the morning.

In his usual meticulous way, Alma has found a way to fit all four variations of Settlers of Cataan into one box. We're finally figuring out how to play all four at once. Which makes for some long, though enjoyable, games.

Happy New Year to everyone! 2010 was a hard one for us, but it was still a good growth-inducing, spirit-stretching year.

Here's hoping that 2011 is the best year yet with many good things to come!

P is for Postponed...

... Announcement postponed for one week due to technical difficulties.

F is for Facebook...

...I just watched The Social Network. It was great - I recommend it.

I haven't used Facebook much in the past year, but the other day, I decided it could be a useful source of information if used correctly.

So to optimize its usefulness, I just deleted 2/3 of my "friends." It felt really good to do so, especially the ones that I didn't really know in the first place, that I have no interest in, and that I know I'll never speak to or hear from again.

But if you feel like you were mistakenly caught in the crossfire (which could've happened), let me know, and I'll rectify the mistake.

Also, stay tuned for big news on Monday...

B is for Bored...

... As you can tell, Alma's been home alone and pretty bored for the past week. The result of said boredom is apparently an outpouring of creative genius.

Another result of his boredom is crankiness, so to remedy the situation I'm whisking him off to sunny Hawaii today. See you when we get back!

K is for Kanye West...

I once heard, somewhere out there in the telestial world, that since the Savior died for our sins, it's a slap in His face if we do not repent, fast.

If that is true then Dave Ramsey has a welt on his left cheek because I have not been so gazelle intense.

Also, I do detest it when SYTYCD does their blurp on the dancers and their life. I don't care if their mother love them and cry on the show; it's getting depressing. Really? really... Show me a blurp if their mother hates them because I haven't seen a mother that hates their child, except in really depressing movies. It would be even more amazing to see if the dancer had an artificial leg because his leg was bitten off by a great white shark at Sea World. I don't care anymore about how their father wanted them to play football instead of dance or how they were born to dance. Just show me some dancing and Mia needs to do us a favor to shut her kaka mouth and flippy hands. I can't believe I miss Mary Murphy; I can't believe I watch SYTYCD.

K is for Kreatest Pick-up Line...

Casanova wooed girls with his charming good looks...

Seal wooed Heidi with his wonderful "kiss from a rose" with a Batman cape draping his shoulders on top of a mountain so tall that it made Tower of Babel feel like a underground bomb shelter... (it's amazing they can understand each other...)

But (one thing I hate is to start a sentence with "but", but sometimes "but's" are necessary when you are having a stream of unconscious consciousness... when nothing makes sense) the greatest pick-up line has to be from Nephi when he went back to Jerusalem and knocked on Ishmael's door... "Ummm, I don't know how to say this... but... God sent me. I have come for your daughter..." (can I sing for you?)

But, in Nephi's defense, of all the things he had been asked to do, this probably had to be the hardest; to soften the heart of the future father-in-law, future mother-in-law, future wife, future sister-in-law, future brother-in-law, future horses, future goats, etc. Kill Laban, check, get brass plates, check, build a big ship, check, check, check, get married, huh?

But for some, like Casanova, it's probably a simple task, nothing but a chicken wing. But for a good LDS man like Nephi, it could be like pulling teeth that's been regularly flossed and brushed and mouth-washed with Listerine maximum strength... dirty mouth?

What if Nephi really didn't like Ishmael's daughter? What if Ishmael's daughter already had a boyfriend? And what were the chances Nephi's wife was righteous and Laman and Lemuel's wives were not so nice?

This was the starting point of my EQ lesson on Sunday.

It ended with one person walking out and few others looking at each other as if they just joined the Korean mob-slash-cult.

K is for Signs...

Today I saw a boy in the hot sun holding a cardboard sign with the sentence: "Why lie I just wanna go to a rave."

At least this boy is honest, unlike many other sign holders, who just love to be dirty, looking.

The only problem I have with this young boy is that he seemed a little outdated. Raves are so 2000 and one and his penmanship sucked.

However, he did spell "wanna" correct: two n's and two a's; don't forget the w.

Side note, I can see this boy getting, buying, stealing a permanent marker for his sign (because he was well groomed and wearing a backpack; obviously a sign that he was not homeless, perhaps... just delinquent. "Uhhh, what's in your backpack?") but where do the homeless people get their markers from. I can't imagine them going to the store (not even a 99 cent store) and actually spending their precious money to buy a pen instead of food... or drugs. But then again, who is to say that all homeless people do drugs, not me. But maybe they do buy markers from staples; it's like an investment.

K is for Habits...

I have no habits nor superstitions except sleeping on my right side, scrunching my nose during allergy season, sticking my pointer finger in Lexi's nose, scratching my head with my pinkies, etc, etc, etc...

I, especially, do not have a habit of tipping the homeless with some cha-ching.

Recently, however, I might have a change of heart, thought, and undies. I might...

I have been camping in a tent, no, two different tents, more than seven days, or a dragged out date with the mosquitoes.

When you camp, it's hard to keep yourself clean. The hardest part of camping is not the mosquitoes, the smoke, the overeating, nor the sleeping with the chain saw in the background, TIMMM-ber; I almost hit you that time. The hardest part is simply the feeling that you are not clean. Camping motto should be: Dirty mouth, snap into a slim jim.

It takes skills, yes, talent to stay and remain dirty. It's hard work. It sucks. I rather not, mostly.

Getting back to the homeless... man I saw recently. Most of the time, like always, I like to stare at the homeless, with my left eye, to see if they are really homeless or if they just hold signs to get free cha-cha-ching. (That's two coins.) I make my subjective biased judgment of how homeless a person is by how dirty the person is. (It's also interesting that you find more men homeless people holding signs than women. The women just hate dirty mouth so much they would rather find a job, a house, a garden, a husband, a life, in that particular order. That's why I don't get how Jessica Simpson hates brushing her dentals.)

It takes work and dedication to stay dirty and remain happy. Therefore, instead of paying these homeless people because of pure sympathy, you should pay them because it's just plain dirty work to stay dirty. So if you been camping, you can look at the homeless people and say: I understand, I empathize; and not give them any cha-ching, just some ching.

I gave the homeless man with his nice yellow bicycle (I own zero nice yellow bicycle) a empty smile and pure empathetic brain wave with my left eye.

Dirty mouth, stay dirty and thirsty my friends.

K is for Konversations...

The beautiful mind of a special woman-man during a special times of the month and year with the overdose of tv, podcasts, facebook, water, blogs, stalking, and driving.

Lex: being single sucks a lot... but being married still sucks less... but still sucks...
Boy: por favor, explainada...
Lex: when you are single, you hold dear to, no, fiercely cling onto faith and trust with the tip of your jagged fingernails from the Vietnamese nail parlor ... but when you are married faith and trust has a lusty lustful affair with you know who and leaves you during the winter-y night in July; leaving you to wonder... land... who really is faith and trust.
Boy: huh? por favor, explainada mucho...
Lex: when you are single, you have explosions...
Boy: que? por... que?
Lex: when you are single, you have explosions of faith and trust...
Boy: que? qui?
Lex: when you are married, faith and trust decides to stop hoping and flying... airplanes; and only wants vain-ness: cameras.
Boy: hopping? I like cameras...
Lex: I only like headshots... of cacti... sometimes cactus.
Boy: boxing? bodyshots?
Lex: when you are married, you say mannn-go, not po-ta-toes; and it just cuts me down there... in my toes, not po-ta-toes; also the balls of my left feet.
Boy: por-que mango? left foot? bol?
Lex: comprend - ez - tu - you?
Boy: po-quito - mas... euh?
Lex: I have a confessional... I broke the windshield... wiper; the right one, by hitting faith and trust and I was broken but it wasn't my fault... it was a hot four weeks, not hillary-us weeks; it started to shake like a rattle snake... you knew me when you picked me up... but it wasn't my fault; it broke me; shattered; crumpled; crippled; crumpet.
Boy: are you panting? I think we have a mis-argument; misunderstanding... I just want to leave Arizona.