The Cease to Exist Order for this, the fourteenth day of November, 2008.

Items that are currently on my cease to exist order.  You have 30 days to comply.  You have been warned.

1. Yo-yo gas prices.  Are they high?  Are they low?  Do I need to buy a Prius or a Hummer? I thought we were running out of gas?  If that is true, shouldn't it's value be going up right now. I am not complaining, I just want to know what the deal is.  

2.  Television advertisements for erectile disfunction medications.  Look, I don't need to hear about the problems associated to having a 4 hour long erection while vegging in front of the TV at midnight - with milk pouring down my chin, as I eat a hearty bowl of Lucky Charms.

3.  Rotating tires.  Why do I have to always worry about rotating my tires?  Can't they invent self rotating tires.  If they can make a self cleaning oven, they can invent a self rotating tire.  And don't tires rotate themselves anyway?  Isn't that kinda their job?

4. The odor that creeps into my car every time I drive I-15 north into Davis County.  It is an awful stench right on the border of Salt Lake and Davis County.  Anyone know what the heck that is?

5. The folks that sit on the table when teaching an Elders Quorum lesson to prove they are relaxed, cool and casual.  What this tells me is, "I spent 20 minutes preparing the lesson this morning and I want to look relaxed enough to hide it." I know this happens in every ward. Oh, and the next time I teach Elder's Quorum, I am putting doilies and frilly cloths on the table.  I noticed the women in Relief Society do this to "set the mood."

5. People that volunteer to read from their "scriptures" in Sunday School.  Their "scriptures" being some sort of tiny, handheld electronic device.  They force us all to sit there like porched chums while they use that tiny, plastic pen to scroll to the next verse. I have a question for people with these - If you lose that piece of crap plastic pen, is your whole device broken for life?  Does it come with a "backup" plastic pen, just in case?  If the pen does break, does that then excuse you from your scripture reading until a new, plastic pen can be obtained?  The next time I am called on to read in Sunday School, I am going to say, "I can't... lost my tiny black pen thing."  Of course, I will be holding my real scriptures on my lap.  (Sorry Brent.  I didn't mean you.  In fact, I think your electronic device is larger than the ones I am referring to.)  However, I do wish the church would come out with a set of scriptures with a built in solitaire game.

6. Spending more time searching for a video at Blockbuster than you do actually watching the video.  Fortunately, we don't spend much time at Blockbuster anymore, but I recall the days when we would stand and stare at the wall of new releases for what seemed like hours looking for the perfect film.  Alas, the perfect film always ended up being something like "Little Nicky" or "Surviving Christmas". 

7. Christmas music on the radio that started at the beginning of November.  (Sorry Lori, but it's true.)  Christmas music should not be allowed to begin until the day after Thanksgiving; and yes, I know there is a station that has Christmas music every day of the year.  Santa needs to have this station shut down immediately.

8. Bluetooth devices.  Anyone that wears one is a 100%, grade A - moron.  (If you are wearing one now, why in the world do you need to talk on the phone while you read my blog?  And if you do in fact have that need, then why do you need to do it "hands free"?  Are you too lazy to hold a phone to your head?)  Several times I have thought people were talking to me in public when they were really talking to their cell buddies, and then I am the one that looks foolish when I answer their questions.  I find myself APOLOGIZING TO THEM! "Oh, excuse me... I apologize.  I thought you were talking to me."  Why am I the one apologizing?  They are the ones that are the dimwitted twits that have to do all of their communicating over a 2 inch mouth doohickey.

9. Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch.  Oh wait, this one has already ceased to exist.

9. Stupid lists of things people hate.

10. Joe the Plumber.  

Song of the Day: Pela - Lost the Lonesome

Thanks to my buddy Dan for hitching me up with this amazing band from New York City.  They remind me a little bit of Okkervil River and The National.  Anyhow, this video here combines three of my favorite things: rock, the Amish and medicine.  Enjoy.

The benefits I receive from losing arguments.

I have never once won an argument with my wife. Over ten years of marriage and I am still waiting for my first victory. She is always calm, rational, levelheaded and logical. I, on the other hand, argue solely on emotion, which in turn makes me a rambling and slobbering mess; I make absolutely no sense and my closing statement is generally something along the lines of, “Oh yeah, well, we’ll just see!”

Let it be known that we have very, very few arguments. In fact, we might actually hold some sort of record for fewest disagreements between a married couple in the history of man. I can't even remember the last time we didn't see eye to eye, but it has been several months. However, occasionally we will have a difference of opinion or two.

It is because of my nauseating ten year losing streak that I must get a point in here and there, just to even things up. Because Cathi knows I “allow” her to win 100% of the arguments, she lets me get away with just a few minor things. Examples of our marriage levelers:

It is a well known fact that I generally have control over the remote.

The ratio of country crap music to good rock music in the car must be equal to or exceed a 30 to 70% ratio, unless the country music is Brad Paisley or The Dixie Chicks, in which case, we move the ratio to 35 to 65%, due to the fact that those are barely tolerable..

I get first dibs on leaving a boring Sacrament meeting to take out a crying kid.

I help in the household chores, but only the ones I want to do. I enjoy working the floors, but have a phobia to the restroom. Could be horrific memories from my days as a night custodian.

I am allowed to attend 6 football games a year, guilt free. Well, almost guilt free.

Now, given that the above items have become an addiction of sorts, I will continue to lose arguments to maintain our balance. Not that I wouldn’t trade it all for a single victory, because I certainly would. The problem seems to be that she is always right.

I ALWAYS pick the eating establishment. ALWAYS!

Whenever we go out to eat, I am almost always the person that selects the destination. ALWAYS! No matter who we go out with or the price range we are looking at, I am always the only one with any cajones to stand up and say where I want to go. Here is a rundown of how these overwhelmingly frustrating conversations usually go:

Cathi: So, where do you want to go to dinner tonight?

Me: Hmm, I always choose. Someone else can choose.

Cathi: Well, I don’t care where we go.

Me: I don't care either. Well where does friend/relative want to go?

Cathi: I don’t know. Let me call them.

[Calls them.... they are waiting on the line.]

Cathi: They say they don’t care where we go.

Me: Well, I always choose. I am not choosing again. Did they give you any ideas?

Cathi: No, they say to have you choose.

Me: [pulling out my hair] I ALWAYS CHOOSE! Someone else needs to choose.

Cathi: [Back on the phone with them.] Abe says someone else needs to choose.

Cathi: [Back to me.] They say they really don’t care. They say wherever you want to go is fine, Abe.

Me: UGH! Okay, tell them I want to go to the Macaroni Grill.

Cathi: [Looking at me with a dissapointed stare] I don't think I want something that expensive, Abe.

Me: Well, you asked me what I wanted!

Cathi: [sighs] Well, let me ask them. [asks them]

Cathi: They say they don’t want something that expensive.

Me: Fine. How about Noodles & Co.

Cathi: They say they just went there the other night.

Me: [Making the shoot myself in the head sign with my fake finger gun] Fine, I am not choosing. Why am I choosing anyway? I told you I am not choosing.

Cathi: Hold on. [Talks to them on the phone] They say Noodles & Company is fine.

Me: What? No, no. They just went there. No, we can go somewhere different. Let’s just go to Training Table.

Cathi: Mmm. That sounds good to me.

[Back on the phone]

Cathi: They say that Training Table will be fine.

Abe: Are you sure, because we could go to Chinese or Café Rio?

Cathi: Hold on. [Talks on the phone] Well, now they say Café Rio sounds really good. Do you want to go there Abe?

Abe: Oh geez. What in the flying crap! (Actual text edited for sake of my mother.) I don’t know. I don't care! Whatever. I am not picking.

Cathi: Well, they are waiting for you Abe. They say it's your call!

Abe: My head is going to explode! Why am I the Godfather of going out? Alright. Training Table, but next time someone else has got to pick!!!

The next time we go out the entire cycle repeats itself, but we end up going to Café Rio. It is the dinner waltz that I dance so beautifully.

I am the Karaoke Overlord, but I am need of a little help.

For as long as I can remember, I have held the ancient oriental art of karaoke close to my heart. Well, perhaps not as long as I can remember, but ever since 1994. (I have some memories of before that year, but they are fading and fleeting.) It was in that year that my friend Steve and I stood on a stage in the 49th Street Galleria in front of our entire graduating class and belted out every word of the eleven minute long, ever immortal “Stairway of Heaven.” The DJ forced us to cut it short when we started swinging the microphone stands around at about minute 8. I have never shied away from a karaoke mike since.

Allow me to indulge you with a brief rundown of my karaoke escapades:

I won first place in a karaoke contest on a cruise to the Mexican Riviera. Actually, I am not sure if I actually won. I remember singing Copacabana and a couple of Neil Diamond songs and being presented with a plastic cruise ship trophy. The details of the performance have really been swept away in the mists and pleasantries of my mind. My memory of this event is like a neon light on a foggy dance floor; it shins brightly in my mind but the details are sketchy like unanswered questions. Perhaps a family member that was in attendance can verify if I in fact won a contest for my ridicules rigmarole? And if I did not win, what exactly was it that I obtained a plastic trophy for?

Alright, I am really done indulging you now. I realize there wasn't much to that jovial trip down memory lane, I just wanted to make it perfectly clear that I am THE karaoke overlord and that I have a plastic cruise ship trophy that proves it.

Since the time of my gut-wrenching, tear-dripping performance on the lido deck that day, I have captured the fancy of many a eager karaoke spectator. I have performed my magic at many gatherings and plan to do so again in the near future.

As I type these words, I know I need to take things to the next level. (As far as my karaokeing goes. I am in no way ready to go out of my comfort zone in any other area of my life. I take that back, I may actually take my couch sitting to the next level during the Christmas break, but I will worry about that when the time comes.) By next level, I mean I need to up the ante. I have a large gathering coming up known as the “Faculty Christmas Party” in which I have several ideas that I am currently working on. However, in order to fully pull off my plan, I will need the following items:

1. A bedazzled vest.
2. 8 colorful bandanas
3. 32 ounces of hairspray
4. 3 bottled waters
5. An electric guitar
6. A miniature trampoline.
7. A small stage (large enough for me to stand on) made of legos, perferrably just yellow and red legos.
8. Lip balm (sparkly)
9. A woman’s pant suit.
10. Corn syrup.

If you have any of these items, please donate them to the cause, which means just give them to me. There has also been a trust fund set up at any Zions Bank branch.

I will do my best to tape the performance and post it on the Blog O’ Cheese, but there is just no way I can do it without these items, or at least a monetary donation for these items. Which reminds me, does anyone know how to set up a trust fund at a bank?

I have waxed spiritual, waxed political, waxed philisophical, but today I wax wax-ophical.

In my past, I have waxed spiritual, waxed political, waxed philosophical, but without a doubt, the worst waxing I have done is that of my back.

I am not sure what possessed me to wax my back hair. Granted, I am a very furry man; however it wasn’t as if my back hair was getting caught in the zipper of my dress - and there certainly were not any midgets sneaking up behind me and giving it a hard yank. I didn’t even realize I had back hair until noticed it during my morning shirtless, dance twirls in front of the full size mirror in our bedroom.

Again, I am not sure what possessed me to go through with this shameless stunt about 2 years ago. It could have been several things: curiosity, an inclination for pain, my infatuation with Olympic swimmers, the fact that we would be going to Raging Waters the next day. Well okay, I can pretty much narrow the real reason down the last thing I mentioned. Certainly, I did not want to pull off my shirt at a public swimming pool and have a magical back hair wand waving at the masses in the breeze. I wanted to save my shirtless, public gross outs to the doctors office. No, I had a strong desire to be smooth, silky, eye candy for all of the ladies to enjoy at the pool.

I don’t recall the entire ordeal, but I believe that I caught my beloved wife swallowing quite a few laughs while I squeeled out in horror. Several recent movies have made light of this “procedure” in recent years, but I promise you, not a single one does it justice.

The wax involved is much more “bee’s wax” than say, “candle wax.” In fact, the best way to describe it is, “honey that has been left out for a couple weeks.” In what could have been one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life with my own wife, Cathi spread this concoction on my back using what appeared to be a large popsicle stick. As she swerved the stick back and forward accross my lower back, I could feel my hairs begging - no pleading - for their very souls. Little did I know that the actual spreading would be the least of my worries.

As the moment of truth finally arrived, I found myself lying on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. Apparently Cathi had done this several times as she applied just enough pressure with the bandage into the goo. She didn’t warn me, didn’t count down, didn’t even say “now!” - She simply yanked. As she pulled, I experienced what I like to refer to as “the white light”. I saw myself walking down a tunnel towards the light and in the very distance I could see several of my ancestors. I was home.

I was not there long as Cathi soon brought me back into reality as she yanked the second “wrap” off my back. Unlike the wimps in the movies, I did not scream, did not swear or even yelp. I let out a simple but elegant squeak; much like a small rodent would make if a mousetrap fell on it’s neck. The sound I made could also be described as the same sound a small dog makes if you step on it’s tail. No, it was in fact too painful to bellow; too tormenting for a single curse word. It may have been (besides the two broken legs, being hit by a car and a couple other experiences I have yet to share), the single most painful experience of my life.

I know what you are wondering, “So how was Raging Waters?” Well, I am not sure, but I think that I caught several ladies sneaking peeks at my finely crafted, glassy, sleek back. Although, it could have been because the bottom of my back was still bright red from the beating it took the night before. I’d like to say that at least my beloved Cathi appreciated my waxing. In fact, I believe she did, but only during the waxing.

What can be learned from this torturous, compromising situation? Plenty: 1. Never manwax your back. 2. Always finish a job you start. 3. Make good use of the popsicle stick provided in a waxing package. And... 4. If you choose to manwax, allow your wife to do it as it will allow her to take out most of her aggression on you. She will be flush, loving and guilt ridden for several days afterward. (In fact, you may want to have her manwax you right before football season starts.)

My response from the patent people...

Hello,

What you are trying to do would fall under the Trademark category. A trademark protects words, names, symbols, sounds, or colors that distinguish goods and services from those manufactured or sold by others and to indicate the source of the goods. You would need to contact the Trademark Assistance Center:
http://www.uspto.gov/ebc/index_tm.html

The department you have contacted only handles patents.

Chris (EBC)

What you are trying to do sounds like a copyright. A copyright protect works of authorship, such as writings, music, and works of art that have been tangibly expressed. The Library of Congress registers copyrights which last for the life of the author plus 70 years.
http://www.copyright.gov/

Thank you,
RMontgomery
Patent EBC

Now that my son stars in the show, I love the Primary Program even more!

Today just so happened to be the primary program.  I love the primary program.  It is the one meeting that I am guaranteed to not fall asleep in.  It is the one meeting that there is always a chance of something crazy happening.

 There are three things that go into a good program: An adorable sunbeam that can't say her R's, a touching story from an older kid about the Holy Ghost, and of course, a very loud, very proud singer in the front row. I am fortunate enough to have my son provide #3 for the ward to enjoy.

Lincoln has been practicing the songs at home for the program for a couple of months now.  He will shout out the lyrics with the greatest of self-glorification.  His joyful ballads were not toned down a single bit for the program.  He yodeled the child songs with the most piercing pizzazz ever heard in a primary program.  We noticed that everyone in the congregation giggling and then turning around to look at us to see our reaction.  Most of the time I simply smiled and shrugged.  

What was most impressive about Lincoln's singing was his facial expressions.  His face and lips bent and contorted to every note.  He proudly did every planned gesture and sometimes even created his own impromptu gestures.  His performance was a show stealer.  He is going to make his dad proud and become a superb karaoke singer someday.

Calder was in his old world during the meeting, as usual.  However, every time Lincoln would stand and sing, his eyes were glued to the stage.  We would say, "Lincoln is going to sing again." and he would perk up and listen.  Yet, every time we would warn him, Calder would sarcastically say, "They're singing... again?!?!"  Since when do two year olds understand sarcasm?

My email to the US department of patents regarding patenting my name.

I sent this email to the US office of patens and trademarks today. (ebc@uspto.gov)  I will post their reply when I receive one.

Dearest Patent Friends,

I would like to have my blogger name, "Cheeseboy" trademarked.  More specifically, I would like to have my entire slogan, "Cheeseboy - The defender of the cheese and all things holy" trademarked.

I have been contacted via my pager by "shady" blogger folk that would like to steal my name.  I fear for my blogging identity.  Identity theft, especially virtual identity theft, is a scary, scary thing.  

I am willing to pay any price (given that it is under $10.00 American).  I am willing to sacrifice and serve my country if needed.  I am willing to provide upwards of 45 minutes of community service a week.

I have read through the trademarking website and I have not been able to locate a section on the trademarking of names.  Can you please provide information on how to trademark a name?

Also, I can't figure out how to make that copyright sign on my keyboard.  I see the following signs above my numbers: !@#$%^&*  Yet, I do not see that circle with a "c" inside of it.  I imagine that when I get the name Cheeseboy trademarked, I will be using that sign an awful lot.  Can you please provide information on how to make the sign on my keyboard?

Thank you kindly for your patenting and trademarking information,

Cheeseboy

AKA - Abe

Our coeds are the fairest and each one's a shining star - and other non-football related thoughts about last night.

I just can't get the game last night out of my brain.  I know I already posted about it once, but I feel it is two-post worthy, maybe even almost sponge-worthy.  A few more thoughts.

• Thank you Tim for the very funny picture, the perfect companion to this post.
• Congratulations to Ike, for pulling our team through when we needed him the most.  His finger to key skills were undeniably key.
• There were several occasions that I had resigned myself to losing.  I should be ashamed of myself, but I just could not see how our boys were going to move the ball on that defense.
• At one point of the winning drive, in the chaos, a man behind me completely fell off his row and into my back.  I almost fell forward as well and it would have been a very entertaining domino effect all the way down to the front row.  The funny thing is that in that moment of triumph I honestly could have cared less.
• There were several times that Cathi asked if I was praying and I told her yes, yes I was praying.  I knew God didn't care, but I just needed to vent to him a little.
• After we were down 10-3, with TCU driving and looking in control, my dad turned his coat inside out.  It was at that point that the team started playing better defense.  Throughout the game, my dad referred to his jacket reversal as the key.  Perhaps, but not quite as key as Ike's keyboard cheerleading.  Ike, you should start wearing one of those cute little cheerleading outfits up in the booth.
• When we scored that go ahead touchdown, the place erupted like I have never seen.
• We stood the entire game.  The entire game!  We sat down during timeouts, but otherwise our section was on edge for every single play.
• As the thousands of fans poured from the stadium, well more like waddled out of the stadium and onto the streets, as we all headed to our cars, the fans let out one final roar of unbelief and overwhelming joy that I am sure could be heard all the way to Provo.  
• I went jogging today and  I was wearing my Utah jogging sweatshirt, reserved specifically for the task of jogging.  While passing by a couple stores, a couple of fellas, also wearing Utah gear yelled to me, "Go Utes!", to which I responded, "Go Utes!"  Two different cars also honked as they passed me and yelled, "Go Utes!"  There is something special in the air amongst us diehard fans this year.  We seem to have created a special, unsaid bond. What a great time to be a Ute!  
• Cathi was hesitant to go to a cold weather game, but I think she had a good time.  After we we scored that last touchdown with just seconds remaining and she had been hugged by several strangers and myself, she looked at me and said two words, "Pretty fun."  I was reminded of the Utah fightsong, "Our coeds are the fairest, each one a shining star."  Yes, my fairest, shining star - "pretty fun" is right. Pretty fun is right on the money! What a great night.

Song of the Day: Why? - Vowels, Part 2

I feel guilty listening to this band.  They are way cooler than I will ever be.  I feel like I am too geeky to even own their album.  Thankfully, the album wasn't too cool to be available for me to check out at the library.  This song fits my mood perfectly today.

My annual checkup

My annual checkup went swimmingly today.  My only issue is that I mentioned to my doctor that my dentist told me that my acid reflux has been causing damage to my teeth and she wants me to go get a "scope" to make sure my medication is keeping the acid down and to make sure there is not any damage.

I had to pee in a cup today.  The cup was that of the dixie persuasion and I could have filled it 4 times over.  They asked me to write my name on the side so they knew it was mine, but I told them I had only really tried that in the snow and I am not sure if I had the skill.  The nurse told me she meant with the sharpie that was next to the cups. 

I hate it when the nurse checks my vital signs and then tells me to take my shirt off and wait for the doctor.  I always fall for it too.  I pull my shirt off and sit there in silence for 25 minutes, my chest hair blowing in the AC.    I am always a little embarrassed and ashamed as I sit there with that crinkling paper under my bottom and my shirt draped over the nearest chair. What exactly do you do to pass the time while you are sitting on a raised examination table with your shirt off? I wonder if they were able to tell that I was messing with the blood pressure thing.

Finally, the time of the exam comes and by that time, I am a little bit cold.  On average the most time I ever sit shirtless in a public place is about 6.37 minutes.  I have one question for the lady Cheeseboy enthusiasts - Does the nurse make you take your shirts off and wait too?

While in the waiting room I was searching for some reading material and scored with a couple Sports Illustrated.  One was from June 06 and one from August 07.  I chose to sat in silence, but the next time I go in I am going to take my shirt off as soon as I walk through the door.  I will check in shirtless. I'll just tell them, "I'm going to be doing this later, so I thought I would just get it over with."  Maybe I will turn my head and cough while I am in the waiting room too, just for practice.

Unbelievable! Unbelievable!

I am beginning to wonder if this team is really a team of destiny.  What an incredible game.  What an incredible season.  

I really don't have much to say other than that game was just unbelievable.  4th and 5 and I thought it was over - 2 missed chip shot field goals, it should have been over.

I just watched the replay of the final 2 minutes on YouTube and my favorite quote from the announcers was after we scored the TD:

"This is a very well built stadium - and this press box is shaking right now!"

Destiny is in our favor this year.  Some things are just meant to be.

10-0

Go Utes!

PS...the blackout was kinda cool in person, but looked awesome on television.

Game notes...

I've got to wear black tonight to the game.  It will be the first time I have worn all black to a football game since high school.  

Sadly, I have run the scenario through my head over 100 times and I just don't know how the Utes win tonight.  I have faith, hope and love, but I am not sure that is enough to carry my boys tonight.  Maybe I should add a hint of charity and a dash of an eye single to the glory of God? 

I can't wait for the atmosphere though, it is going to be electric.  Kinda like a Barack rally, a Guns and Roses concert combined with a football game.  

Cathi will be attending with me, surprisingly.  She hates cold weather games, but my I will keep her warm with my large, hairy man-body; hopefully hugging her in the joy of many moments.  

I will log on when I get home and tell you how the biggest game I can ever remember went.

Go Utes!

I am dressed just so darned cute tonight!

Hello everyone.  

What a night last night!  Regardless of what you think about Obama, it was quite a historical night.  It felt very surreal, like I was watching a live version of a documentary.  A live-o-mentary. 

Enough politics.

I am currently sitting in our gym, wait for parents to show up for parent/teacher conference.  I bring this up because I have been told by three different moms/teachers that I look like a little kid.  More exactly, "a little kid that has dressed up for a special occasion."  

Here is my current wardrobe: white shirt, dress pants and a navy blue sweater; no tie.  I am adorable!  The only thing I am missing is a matching blue beret or a checkered vest.  I am like a First Grade Teacher of a Build-a-Bear!  In fact, if you look under my darling sweater, you will find a cardboard heart.  I am so dressed so darn cute, a woman that works at The Pottery Barn for Kids asked if I would be in their next catalog.  One teacher asked me if I was getting ready for the Christmas program.

I found their compliment nice, but they didn't have to pinch my cheeks when they left