A Public Service

As many of my devoted readers are aware of, my post usually deal with something that annoys me. Today is no different. While there are many things out there that bug me like guys that wear skinny jeans. Seriously their shoes look like water skis with those things on plus blood circulation has to be severely restricted. But that isn't what has been bugging me lately. I would like to bring attention to the horrible practice of the chapel PDA. You all know what I'm talking about. It has hit epidemic status ever since Generation X has been unleashed on the world. I want to discuss a different types of the not so sacred, sacrament meeting display. The first is the "elderly." This type is the only one I give a thumbs up to. Basically because it is so rare and the old timers are probably only doing it to keep their pacemakers ticking. The second type is "pushed to the brink." You only see this with married couples that have more than two kids on their bench. It is usually a result of a long hot day at church where if they don't get some help, one or more of those kids is going to get thrown out of the mini van on the way home. I give this a pass the majority of the time and the only reason I don't allow this 100% is because of that one creepy couple in every ward that has been married for over ten years but still acts like a newlywed couple still on their honeymoon. That is a pretty traumatic site for a young impressionable lad or lass that has to sit behind them for an hour. The next few types are were I really get disgusted. The "newlywed" is a perfect example. We get it, you are in love and just got married. I don't need to see Peter Priesthood whisper sweet nothings into Molly Mormon's ear only to have Molly rub Peter's back so provocatively that it probably wouldn't even be allowed on cable TV. This is 99 percent of the time off limits. The only reason I don't go full on against if because there is always that weird couple that you have to watch because you don't think they could be any more disgusting but every Sunday they have a way of stepping up their game. A close relative of the "newlywed" is the "newly engaged." While similar to the "newlywed" the "newly engaged" varies because they aren't yet legal. The comment most often associated with this one is "save some for the honeymoon." Always a 100% no-no. Now we get into my area of expertise. The single's ward shenanigans. The most common is the "dater." This couple usually forgets that the date ended on Saturday night and they feel it necessary to continue the PDA into the sabbath. This can be super uncomfortable especially when they sit in the middle of the long benches surrounded by strangers rather than isolate themselves on the short pews. I have a real hard time with this one because they are so blatantly trying to show everyone else how awesome they are. This goes without saying 110% no. The next type has really burst onto the scene in the last few year. Its called the "girl power." For some reason, girls feel the need to provide moral support to their Friends in the form of excessive groping and rubbing. I was this yesterday where one girl playing with the other's hair and then spent the next 20 minutes giving her a shiatsu massage. Now I can't fully explain the reasoning behind it but I think it is some form of protest against the "dater." They are trying to prove that they are much better off without the weaker sex but 9 times out of 10, given the chance, Molly would leap over the bench to get with Peter. All if can do is give a confused shrug of the shoulders and have the finger in the negative. The final type is by far the most troubling. It is the kissing cousin of the "girl power." I call it the "bro." Identical in every way save one to the "girl power", the "bro" substitutes a little bromance into the equation. Guys should never be rubbing other guys' backs. Period. I don't even like discussing this form of debauchery. What can I say? NEVER. So please use this as a template and lets try to keep our hands to ourselves. Church is for filling our spiritual canteen or if you are like me and your canteen is already overflowing its for catching up dreams and visions. The sabbath day is not a way to demonstrate your PDA.

Plus it makes all of us lone rangers look like the hermits and old maids that we are so desperately trying to deny that we are. The Spanish have a saying "no comeis pan en frente de los pobres." Translation: Don't eat bread in front of the poor."

That Special Time Of Year

There is a magical time of year that only occurs in the most remote of location: single wards. The season known as running with the newbies has begun. The first Sunday after high school graduation the lemmings descend into the valley of "responsible adults." Yesterday the chapel sounded like a high school cafeteria the day before the prom. All those youngsters were able to sit wherever they wanted and it was comparable to letting prisoners on death row select their last meal. Absolutely brutal. I couldn't figure out why this year I was more annoyed than usual then I started doing the math. The year I graduated high school, all of those new kids on the block were enrolled in the third grade. When I got home from my mission those cool cats were in the sixth grade. When I graduated BYU these juveniles were freshmen in high school. That is an equation that equal depression. Even if I wanted to date one of these gems I could never feel comfortable dating somebody that my littlest sister babysat. I would ask for your pity but I've got more than enough created by my own ego.

RIP Handy Manny

Ever since my sister moved in with me, we've been compared to famous duos. Batman and Robin, Peanut butter and Jelly, Shrimp and Slushies. At one time we wanted Mandi's friend to move in with us so I could be John Ritter in our own version of Three's Company. Maybe I could be Scott Baio in Charles in Charge. One of my sister's students said she looked like Handy Manny so I guess that makes me Dora the Explorer which is weird on every level. I even though to doing my own Charlie's Angels but I couldn't decide if I wanted to be Charlie or Bosley so I scraped the idea. But the most fitting comparison was that of Matthew and Marilla from Anne Of Green Gables with me being Marilla because my sister is far kinder and would buy fantastic ball gowns for little orphans. We had plans to adopt a little red head and name him or her Butters and live our lives until one of us died. Well that dream has been dashed. My sister left the 509 eating her dust today. She moved back to the land of milk and honey to regroup before becoming a cosmonaut and living on the space station. I'm going to miss her because she is the only person I know that can sit through an entire TV show without punching me in the face for my extraordinarily detailed comments. I think it is because she is more advanced than most people and can appreciate and understand the finer points that I contribute to television broadcasts in the form of commentary and sweet dance moves. So let this be a lesson to all of you. If you think you have what it takes to become part of a truly iconic partnership, be prepared to have it fall out from underneath you faster than Britain's Got Talent contestant, Susan Boyle's rise to fame.

Plus she was a mad chef and never tried to sneak vegetables in my food like my sly mother.

The Single Life? Yes Please

I was able to make a trek down to the promised land this last weekend for Memorial Day. The whole family was gathered to celebrate a milestone birthday and have the annual dutch oven cookout. In order for the story to make more sense, I need to preface it. Recently I freed up a lot of time and emotion by parting ways with my significant other. No need for tears but the process was pretty brutal. I digress. Since than, I've been pondering life and what I want out of it. I suppose all people in similar situations go through the same thing. Did I do the right thing? Where is my life heading? Now what? Amidst theses perilous struggles; enter the Hurricane. The Hurricane consists of three parts: niece, nephew, nephew. The incredible thing about this Hurricane is I have yet to see it weaken. Let me explain. As a family we all went out to eat in Twin Falls for a birthday. This required the use of two vehicles. I somehow ended up in the vehicle with Thing 1 and Thing 2 also known as me nephews. Words can't describe the journey. All I know is sainthood should be granted to those who resist the urge to strap their children to the roof for trips over 5 minutes. My youngest nephew is usually calm but his animal instincts kicked in as soon as that door shut. I think he could smell my fear. He morphed into this raging beast. Imagine PETA gathering at their annual convention only to find out it is being held at Outback Steakhouse. Now multiply that by Pi. I was grabbing everything I could find to stick in his mouth. Being covered in dirt didn't exclude anything. During dinner, my other nephew somehow managed to lick my tongue while his mouth was still full of bow-tie pasta. The evening could best be described as traumatic. After the Hurricane blew through and went home, I was pondering single life. I realized that instead on feeling anxious, I felt giddy because I knew that a new day would dawn and that day didn't have a single dirty diaper in it. You can't see me through cyber-space but know that I'm smiling from ear to ear.


I do love my niece and nephews. They were the highlight of my trip. I love playing with them and getting them all riled up especially because I know I don't have to take them home. Plus they will do anything for two quarters.

Called Into Action

I've been absent from the blogging scene for a while and I know it has been difficult for all my loyalists, but something has really crawled under my skin the last few days. Last weekend at the Miss USA pageant (which is a huge joke to begin with), Miss California, Carrie Prejean had the title locked up. She was leading the competition going into the final round of interviews. A random question was pulled for her to answer. The question she was given was submitted by one of the judges a one Perez Hilton. Not the same as the dumb blond, this is the snarkiest, most mean spirited bloggers on earth. This guy happens to be gay, which I'm personally not a supporter of but he has his rights, but he is extremely flamboyant and aggressive about his lifestyle. The question he submitted was “Vermont recently became the fourth state to legalize same-sex marriage. Do you think every state should follow suit? Why or why not?” There is absolutely no way a person can answer that question without repercussions. This young lady is a student at a christian college in San Diego and her exact response was"We live in a land where you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite. And you know what, I think in my country, in my family, I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised." On the spot, in the heat of the moment, nobody could have done a finer job. She was articulate and I think very respectful. Well Hilton didn't see it that way and gave here a 0 for her score. She ended up losing by just a few points all because she had a belief and stuck to her guns

Now comes the storm. Every idiot in Hollywood is ripping her to shreds because of what she said. Can you imagine if the tables were turned and a conservative judge gave a 0 to contestant with the opposite opinion. But like most liberals, free speech is only important when people agree with what you say. The incredible thing is she is representative of the majority. Take a look how Prop 8 turned out. But the minority is calling her a radical ignorant christian. Isn't the definition of ignorance not listening to or supporting a persons right to say something that opposes another person's opinion. Lately, the vocal minority, with backing from Hollywood, has tried to influence policy so they can look like the saviors of the disenfranchised. The only problem is, most of America doesn't support their radical viewpoints but when we try to speak out, we are labeled as backwater, uneducated rednecks that pray at the altar of Coca Cola and call dinosaurs Jesus horses.

I am amazed that people can still amaze me. Every time I turn on the news, there is another story of a lawsuit by some hippie liberal that feels the need to punish Joe the plumber for having a job that disposes of waste rather than composting it. I'm so proud that even though Miss Prejean knew her answer would be received like Chuck Norris at the DNC, she proudly stood up for not only her beliefs, but for the majority of Americans that love this country and the freedoms that are so often taken for granted.

Its Finally March

For those of you who aren't familiar with my love of sports, March if my favorite month of the year. This means madness is finally at hand. The Bowen cousins somehow have all ended up in the same tournament pool. Usually this means somebody's spouse will take us all to the cleaners but last year my brother stepped up his game and won the whole thing against over a hundred different people. I have to take a little credit because he rode my coat tails. I've been a Kansas man for a long time and picked them to win every year for the last five and finally last year they broke through so Brandon looked like a genius but in reality, he was jumping on my bandwagon. But he walked away with the cash so my hat goes off to him. So this is a reminder to all you bracket jockeys: Bring your A game because I've been doing my research and this is my year.

Odds are Sara or Melanie will show us all up (no offense) but lets get that Bowen testosterone boiling.

Tax This "Change"

Lately I've been working on my tax return. Growing up, I always heard how bad tax season was and I could never figure out what the big deal was. Just get somebody else to do it and quit complaining. Now I realize why we have Freedom of Speech. This stuff is tragic. It isn't the time involved because I can get mine done pretty quick. Instead it is the realization that being a single, white, unmarried, male is quite possibly the worst tax fate a person can suffer. I literally have to chug a gallon of Pepto in order to even glance at me W-2. How is it that the government can take 40 percent of what I earn and tell me its my patriotic duty? I feel my duty involves a 9 iron, a bucket of marshmallow cream, and Joe Biden's back hair. So buck up all you tax jockeys out there. Just think, with Obama in charge now, we will no longer have to pay taxes and we will receive a shipment of alpaca fur twice a month to cuddle up in and daydream about how great government is. "Change", I love it.

By the way, that humongous stimulus check we all got last year, oh yeah you have to report it.