Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Never mix Costco Sushi and free eggnog.

All I needed was a pack of CDs.

The sweet fragrance of old lady sweat and the silvery shine of shearing scissors overcame my senses and I floated - as if out of my body - above the piles of sweaters, over the unopened boxes of Sarah Palin books, around the cell phone kiosk, until at long last... I had settled in comfortably next to a grinning, blue-haired grandma.

She handed me a paper cup with a piece of sausage the length and width of a quarter in it.

- Gulp -

Ah, it had been awhile, but I was home. Home... or so I had thought.

On to table two - some sort of sandwich wrap with a dab of Ranch dressing on it. Bad move. Real bad. I can't imagine dog feces tasting much worse. (Not the big dog kind, but the little, rat dog kind)

I had to get that gosh awful taste out of my mouth... and FAST!

Table 3: Small block of cheese. Perfect. But now I am thirsty.

Ah, I see the drinks, way across the way. There are only 6 tables between me and the sodas.

Table 4: A slice of apple with something slimy on it; I am going to refer to it as "cheese". Gulp.


Table 5: Now this is where it gets a little sticky. Bad sushi. Costco sushi. Really bad Costco sushi. Need... something... fast.

Table 6: Eggnog. It's something to drink. It will have to do.

Oh no, even worse. Eggnog and bad sushi. Rotten. Life lesson: never mix eggnog with bad Costco sushi.

Only four more tables to the soda!

Table 7: Quiche. I know my the lining of my stomach has been burnt to a crisp and my mouth tastes like I made out with a dog that had just eaten eggnog and sushi, but who am I to pass up a good quiche?

This quiche would have killed to be considered "good".

Three more tables and this will all be behind me.

Table 8: Some sort of whole grain cracker with a nice little swab of spinach dip.

I have no idea why I ate that.

Death. Take me. If this is the way I was meant to go, so be it.

The last two tables were a blur. My head was spinning, my bowels on fire, my loins pinched by an enormous clenched fist like Sylvester Stalone's in the 1987 classic arm wrestling movie "Over The Top". I don't remember much at tables 9 & 10, just the beating of my own heart and a kindhearted elderly woman with a hairy chin and a hairnet leaning over me and asking if I was feeling alright.

I think one of these tables may have been a frozen pizza. It's nice they are handing it out, given that I have NEVER had a frozen pizza before.

At long last, table 11. The soda gleaming and glistening like the sweat on a Biggest Loser contestant's belly. I reached, hand trembling, drops of perspiration dripping off my forehead. Finally, the sweet relief of bubbly nectar rinsing my bowels of the poisonous rotten toxins.

What is this? What IS this stuff? Some sort of all natural diet fruit drink?!

Cathi had to strap me to the bottom of the shopping cart (on top of the toilet paper) and load my quivering body into the back of the van. I am just now recovering.

All I needed was a pack of CD's.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Cheeseboy's second annual "Best Posts of the Year Awards".

It was much more difficult this year to select my favorite posts. I did my best and narrowed it down and then ranked the top ten. I used the feedback, comments and just my own gut to select what I believed were the ones that made people laugh the most. (Plus, there's nothing quite like a good pat on the back to make yourself seem more important) So, in case you missed anything, here are my top ten posts of '09. (Links included, in case you forgot or wanted to revisit them) PLEASE VOTE IN THE POLL ON THE RIGHT FOR THE ONE THAT YOU THOUGHT WAS THE MOST ENTERTAINING!

1. Thursday, July 9 - Please breastfeed in public. (I AM NOT A SEXIST PIG!)
This is a quite hilarious (if I do say so myself) retrospect of why I encourage breastfeeding in public, and not for the reasons you might think.

2. Tuesday, August 16 - No you may not Calder!
Calder announces to the world that he wants to cut a body part off and Lincoln gets the giggles.

3. Friday, December 18 - Best First Grade program EVER!
Video of me making a total jackass of myself to help benefit our First Grade program.

4. Tuesday, May 28 - Haircut night gone awry.
Calder fights getting a haircut and the results take 2-3 weeks to overcome.

5. Tuesday, August 11 - Just call me "Abe".
A humorous essay on why people I am some strange, foreign man from Scandinavia.

6. Tuesday, September 15 - Perhaps the funniest true Dollar Store story you will ever hear!
Some bad stuff happened to me that day in the Dollar Store. Some REAL bad stuff.

7. Wednesday, September 23 - Real life stories of a Murray househusband.
What really goes down when husbands are assigned to watch the kids while their wives have "Girl's Night Out".

8. Wednesday, August 12 - How am I supposed to write a ovel whe my computer is missig a letter?
The shameful results of being forced to use a "loaner" laptop without a "N" button while awaiting a new one.

9. Wednesday, February 18 - Cheeseboy's Rules for Hugging
A set of social norms for social situations that involve hugging.

10. Wednesday, January 28 - Mr. Belvadere v. Tony Danza
One of my blogging goals in life is to write stuff that will make my brother Ike laugh and I know he loved this one.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Christmas 2009 is a total bummer.... or is it?!

Calder begged all month for a magic wand. That's all he wanted. He even asked Santa for it when he sat on his lap.

Last week we finally decided we better get him a magic wand. Cathi found one for two dollars at Zurchers, a store that sells crappy party goods.

Christmas morning... Calder is rummaging through his stocking and he ecstatically pulls the two dollar wand out and holds it high and proud, a large smile spread across his face.

With wand in hand, he waves it and says, "ABRACADABRA!"


He tries again. "ABRACADABRA!"


- Almost in tears, my poor, three-year-old boy looks at his wand and says in a pathetic, squeaky voice, "It's broken. Santa brought me a broken one..."

Christmas devastation. He spent the next ten minutes holding back tears and wondering why.

Fortunately, he received plenty of other toys that made up for his grumbling, yuletide disappointment.

The wand still lays on the floor where he dropped it this morning.


Calder is lying contently in bed right now and in his prayer he thanked God that Santa did not forget him.

The wand may have lost all it's magic, but Christmas did not.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas Everyone! (And a little holiday video to boot!)

This is another song I taught the kids that we did for our program, that I am NOT in. We had two performances - one for the school kids and one for the parents. For both, this song was a HUGE hit. But the school kids cheered for two straight minutes when we were done. Some of the first graders were so embarrassed by the huge ovation that they almost started to cry. We seriously practiced this song over 200 times it seemed, and the end result was quite hilarious. We especially practiced the freezing in between songs, which also is hilarious at times. Keep your eyes peeled for the moonwalker. She is brilliant! (How are we ever going to make this program better next year?!?!) Here is, "The Snowman Song". (Original Score by "InsideOut")

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

New rules for people that frequent McDonalds. (Also, new rules for McDonalds employees)

I recently braved the torturous crowds and sticky floors of McDonald's to appease Calder of his unquenchable thirst for the McLifestyle. For whatever reason - the playland mostly - he loves that place. When he was younger, we could pass off any restaurant as McDonald's and he would be content. We would pull into the parking lot of Chili's and announce, "We're here. McDonald's. Sorry, no playland at this one, but you can climb on the really tall bar seats while we wait for our buzzer to go off."

But alas, Calder has outgrown his toddlerecent Mcfatty ignorance and he can now tell a golden arch from a golden coral. Every so often we have to throw the boy a bone. It's a good thing they are selling the McRib again... all those unused bones.

Well, during my last trip to McDonalds I thought to myself, "There really ought to be some rules and regulations for this place!" Seriously, 90% of the people in that place were there for their 2nd or 3rd time that week, yet all 90% acted as if they had never stepped foot in a McDonald's before. Thus, I have created 6 ground rules for folks that want to "eat" at this fine establishment. This list shall be plastered on the doors of every McDonalds nationwide and in Guam.


1. When ordering food at the counter, do not stare at the board and squint. You look like a moron. They have cheeseburgers and Big Macs. They always have. Order your food and move on.

2. After you have placed your order, step away from the counter to wait. Don't just stand at the register like you are the only one in line. Step aside and move away. Don't worry, they will bring you your Egg McMuffin so you can continue your quest for 400. They will even bring it out if you are not standing right at the counter.

3. When you are at the drink machine, if you can't fill two drinks at once, don't. If you can't fill one drink and chew gum at the same time, don't. Just do what your brain is capable of doing. Filling two drinks at once takes very little coordination and mind control, yet at least half of the people attempting the duo drink will have overflow issues. I guess that is why they are eating at McDonald's.

4. Prior to a child entering the playland, they must be fully submerged in a giant vat of hand sanitizer. The baptism of sanitizer shall also take place upon exiting germ infested plastic tubes.

5. Please make your kids put their shoes back on before entering the bathrooms!

6. If you grab a drink lid and accidentally get two or three, please do not put them back in the dispenser. I don't want your grubby hands on my drink lid.

7. If you are really bored, how about browsing a magazine and not the Redbox screen.

While I am making rules, I might as well make some new rules for our friendly McDonald's employees:

NEW RULES (or actually suggestions) FOR MCDONALD'S EMPLOYEES:

1. Please wipe off the front of the garbage flap every so often so that when I attempt to throw garbage away I do not get somebodies old ketchup all over my hand.

2. Please do not pretend that the thin sliver of paper between the tray and my ketchup somehow desanitizes the tray. The tray is gross. Please wash the trays. Perhaps you could dip them in that giant vat of hand sanitizer that I plan on having for the kiddies?

3. Please do not mop the floor right in front of the drink machine and then act disgusted when I walk on your newly mopped floor. A man needs his orange drink. I am not going to wait for your little masterpiece to dry. If you want to mop something, how about the bathroom floor? I swear I have 36 shoes still stuck to McDonald's bathroom floors across the nation. Perhaps I should try going in shoeless like all of the kids?

4. When handing me my drink in the drive-thru, how about pushing down the little button letting me know what kind of drink I ordered? I don't care if it is the only drink in the order! I want to know that you know what kind of drink I got. Why do you think they make those little buttons on the top of the lid? It's kinda your job to do this stuff.

5. Stop handing out Kidz Bop CDs. They are not fun, they are not toys, they are garbage. Just give me the crappy, little plastic figurine we paid for!

Monday, December 21, 2009

Song of the Year: Empire Of The Sun - We Are The People

It took me a long time to decide on a Song of the Year this year. It was not quite as obvious as last year. Last year, it was clear that Coldplay's "Glass Of Water" was my favorite of '08. I had so many great selections to chose from this year, but I finally decided upon Empire Of The Sun's "We Are The People".

I thought that my selection was so obscure, so original. Then, last night I heard this song on a commercial for Sony televisions?! So much for being creative.

The embedded version of the actual video has been disabled, but if you would like to see it, please go here.

Don't be fooled by the name or the strange cover, this album is absolutely fantastic. Filled with thundering beats and new aged lyrics, their debut album "Walking On A Dream" perhaps the best thing that was released in '09. I give you, "We Are The People".

For those that may be interested, I give you the rest of my top ten tracks of the year:

2. Little Secrets - Passion Pit (Manners)
3. Sick Muse - Metric (Fantasies)
4. Panic Switch - Silversun Pickups (Swoon)
5. Dorchester Hotel - The Sounds (Crossing The Rubicon)
6. Drain The Blood - The Rural Alberta Advantage (Hometowns)
7. Wavin' Flag - K'naan (Troubadour)
8. 1901 - Phoenix (Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix)
9. The Great Defector - Bell X1 (Blue Lights On The Runway)
10. Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear (Veckatimist)


My Girls - Animal Collective (Merriweather Post Pavilion)
Furr - Blitzen Trapper(Furr)
Little Bribes - Death Cab For Cutie (The Open Door EP)
Sleepless - Decemberists (Dark Was The Night - A Red Hot Compilation)
So Insane - Discovery (LP)
Eye On The Prize - Eulogies(Here Anonymous)
Perfection As A Hipster - God Help The Girl (God Help The Girl)
I'm Confused - Handsome Furs(Face Control)
Too Much Time - John Vanderslice (Romanian Names)
The Simple Life - The Juan MacLean (The Future Will Come)
Lessons Learned - Matt & Kim (Grand)
Repeaterbeater - Mew (No More Stories Are...)
Young Adult Friction - The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart (The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart)
I Say Fever - Ramona Falls (Intuit)
Quiet Little Voices - We Were Promised Jetpacks (These Four Walls)
Unfinished Business - White Lies (To Lose My Life)
Percussion Gun - White Rabbits (It's Frightening)

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Hi. My name is Cheeseboy and I am... (gulp) a food moocher.

Hi. My name is Cheeseboy and I am... (gulp) a food moocher.

[Hi Cheeseboy]

I think' I remember when it all began. It could have been the summer of '94. Or the winter solstice of '88. No, I think it was the great bread famine of '82.

Okay, there I go, lying about my problem again. The truth is, I don't remember when I started the mooching. I know a lot of people and it just seems that these people always have food. I'm a hustler; a snacking scam artist; a salami and Swiss swindler. I have come to this community center to admit my misdeeds and to seek help.

I hurt the people I love the most. It hurts me to hurt them, but when they have food, I need that food. It is a food fixation of galactic proportions and it needs to end. People out there are dying of starvation and some have no Christmas Shoes for their mother; and here I am, hoodwinking hot dogs from helpless hobos. (Well, not really from hobos yet, but I needed a H word there)

There is a method to my madness. I do not mooch carelessly or without direction. In fact, I have four detailed, foolproof mooching schemes that I readily use at a moments' notice. Please take note in case I attempt one of the following on you...

1. "The Mope" - This one is quite easy. Find someone that is eating something delightful... say a box of Pringles for instance. Slobber over and inform that person that you are really hungry. Just the mention of "hungry" will get you 6-10 Pringles 90% of the time. (And 2-6 Pringles 95% of the time, but that study is still ongoing)

2. "The Stick Around Awhile" - This scheme takes a little patience, but is surprisingly effective. Just being around someone that is eating while you are not will get you free food 80% of the time. Allow 5-7 minutes for their guilt to set in and be sure to eyeball the desired food to make your desire clear. It is also helpful to mention that all you have for lunch is a couple mini bagels and an apple.

3. "The I've Never Tried That Before" - This is a great line, even if the target food is something that is fairly common. Say for instance, the person is eating something very common such as a Hershey's Kiss. Your best line is something to the effect of, "I love Hershey's Kisses but I have never had the dark chocolate kind. That sounds interesting and smooth. How long have they been making these? That Hershey, he thinks of everything, doesn't he?" This will land you a beloved Hershey's Kiss nearly 100% of the time.

4. When all else fails, one must try (but very carefully) the complex and twisted, "Cobra Khan Skittles Stratagem". Begin by ensuring a large group of people have assembled in the break/lunch room. Look in the work fridge for your sack lunch. When it is not found (purposefully), become instantly convulsed and begin throwing refrigerator magnets in every direction. When others ask why all the fuss, explain that your lunch has been STOLEN! STOLEN! Then sit down and put your head in your hands. When they ask what they can do, explain that "It's okay, I can make it a couple hours before I get home." (Patting your belly and saying, "It's okay little guy, we can make this" is also very helpful.

Then just sit back and watch the food offers come pouring in. Not only will you be well fed, but you will have your choice of delectable entrees to choose from.

I know. I am despicable. I am worse than despicable, I am a disgrace. And that is why I am here today. I need help. I need this support group. I need you all to help me stop the needless mooching.

I had an idea: If each of you would just give me enough food to last me this week, I will have no need to mooch off my friends and esteemed colleagues.

FYI: I like Pringles and Hershey's Kisses, but I have never tried the kind with the almonds in them.

PS: I know my smoking hot lady-wife is going to read this and be somewhat shocked. She will then look at me and say, "Don't you pack enough food in your lunch everyday? If you don't, that's your own fault." To which I will respond, "Yes, but then I walk by my Principal's office and he is eating a doughnut or something and I will want one." She will then just roll her eyes and say, "Whatever" in that adorable way she does and leave it at that. (The "whatever" and eyeroll from my wife means that 1. I am weird and 2. She doesn't want to concern herself with my petty nonsense anymore)

Wednesday marks 15 years since our first date. You get to know a person pretty well in that amount of time.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Best First Grade Christmas Program EVER!

My thanks to Scott for the video. Here it is, what you all have been waiting for, me as Grandma, Bruce AND Marky Mark (with the Funky Bunch behind me)

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Top nine phrases teachers hate.

We Elementary teachers are pretty patient people for the most part. We look and play the part of the kindhearted, peacemaking caregiver. Most of us truly are these things with the possible exception of about 5%. However, I can guarantee that just about every teacher cringes in unmistakable torment at the sound of the following decrees. I present to you, in full Cheeseboy regalia, the top 9 announcements teacher hate to hear:

9. "The PTA will be putting on a fund-raising assembly today." This pronouncement means I will be spending an hour sitting on a metal folding chair and listening to obnoxious squealing over cookie dough and prizes that clearly could have come from the Dollar Tree. And that is just the PTA ladies.

8. "Today will be an inside recess day." Inside recess day means three despicable things: Pent up rugrats with energy to spare, pent up ME with energy to spare and a complete mess in my room. Inside recess is a little like putting a group of superheros in a cage, shaking it up a little bit and hoping that they won't use their superpowers to hurt you. Oh yeah... they are going to use their powers and it's NOT going to be pretty.

7. "It's Grandparents Day today!" Yes, it's grandparents day for SOME kids. Congratulations kids, your grandparents are still alive. Now all you kids with dead grandmas or grandpas that just don't care, come line up over here and eat lunch by yourself. Cheeseboy, you are good at consoling upset kids, right?

6. "The 6th (or any other grade) is using the gym today." There will be no PE in the gym. Oh great, that means I've got to take thirty 7-year-old's out into 30 degree temperatures pretend to enjoy a rousing game of freeze tag. Literal freeze tag.

5. "The choices for lunch today are trout treasures or chili." Trying to convince kids that something called a "trout treasure" or "school brewed chili" is delicious is a little like convincing the Amish that they are going to die of global warming.

4. "It won't stop bleeding." Almost always referring to a nose, but not limited to the nasal region. "It won't stop bleeding" actually means, "Better buy more tissue cause this box will soon be a giant red glob in the garbage can."

3. "I kicked my shoe over the fence at recess." I know what you are thinking: Really? How often does that happen? The surprising answer is: 2.7 times per year. 2.7 days of one child in the classroom crying for six hours while wearing a single shoe. A teacher delight.

2. "Tomorrow is crazy hair day." I hate crazy hair day. It's simply an excuse for a child to act as crazy as their hair. Generally, the rule of thumb is: the crazier the hair, the crazier the kid acts. Crazy hair day always coincides with some special week like Red Ribbon Week or Safety Week. I propose we start a week called "Wear normal hair at school and drive your parents bonkers with crazy hair at home week."

1. "I couldn't make it to the bathroom." No matter what the kid is talking about, if they say this phrase it never means something positive has taken place. Ever.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Utahns can be so incredibly stupid.

I am such an idiotic Utahn. We take great pride moronic behavior. In fact, in a way I sort of thrive on it. We tend to breed stupidity in bundles and sell it in bulk to the local Dollar Tree. Recently, it seems as though the Beehive boneheads have been hit a new gear: "E-Gear to be pathetic". Please take note of the following:

1. A small group of people waited outside a Salt Lake Costco in 4 degree temperature just to be first in line to have Sarah Palin sign their book. What kind of moron sleeps outside in bitter temperatures just to see a two bit has-been and her snowsuited, lumberjacky husband?

Well, after my toes had turned turned brittle and my nostril hair had frozen to the inside of my nose, I kindly asked a stranger to buy me a pack of hand warmers and a slice of cheese with a thin piece of crust underneath it. As it turns out... the hand warmers only came in a pack of a thousand and the cheese cooker had frozen over.

Alas, morning came and the line finally began to move. I had finally reached the entrance and I could just make out the tip of a pair of designer glasses sitting between an old lady handing out gummy bear vitamins and a pile of fishing waders. Finally, Palin was in clear sight and I started running toward her like a moth to the petal of a flower.

I was bounced. Turns out, you have to have a membership to their magic club to see the almighty Palin. Standing in line in the frigid cold overnight would have been worth it, but I was not about to fork over $35 to join their little fraternity. It's unfortunate that Costco was the only establishment classy enough to host Sarah and her hunting buddies.

Who knew that a wheelchaired man wearing a red vest and holding a price gun could be so darned strong. The bad news was that I had to amputate one toe. Also, contrary to popular belief, Palin does is not sold in bulk. Although there is an economy sized Palin sold at Target in the clearance bins. If you buy a hundred of them, you save at least 45 cents per gross.

2. Seven thousand people attended a minor league basketball game in Orem, fully expecting Michael Jordan to show up and play a little one-on-one for a measly $100,000. How did these people get so gullible? Did they eat too many "sloppy joes" in Elementary School? Really? Michael Jordan is going to fly to Provo and embarrass himself in front of 7,000 bozos? No wonder Utah County is the pyramid scheme capital of the world. These dimwits are clueless!

So, my view from the third row was a little bit fuzzy. The speakers were blaring that Chicago Bulls championship music and it was so loud, I could barely maintain myself. I should have known better. Jordan was too classy for this dog and pony show. No way was he going to show up to a minor league basketball game in Orem. I felt like an titter-brained freak. I had been duped! Duped by the best in the business: a D-League marketing team full of evil geniuses!

I'm done with them! I am never going back, ever... EVER!!! (Except next Thursday when they gave me free tickets for the game. But after that - NEVER!)

Thursday, December 10, 2009

What Buddy Lembeck was really thinking everyday...

I'm Buddy.

College. Girls. Charles.

I am in so much mischief. Where's Charles?

How old is that girl he takes care of? When does she turn 18?

I wish they made double stone washed jeans. Stone washed jeans that they stone wash again. That's double stone washed. Stone washed twice.

I am so good at helping Charles go on two dates at one time.

Charles. That guy is the best.

"Lives downstairs and it's understood." What exactly is "understood". That he is waiting for that girl upstairs to turn 18?

I got to get Charles more dates.

We should totally go to the lake this weekend. I know those girls that wear miniskirts are in.


Tank tops look really cool with stone washed jeans.

I wish my jeans could be more fluffy on the sides.

I should totally get Charles a date tonight.

Am I still in college?

How does Hammer get his pants to wing out like that?

My hair is so curly.

Did Charles need a date tonight?

How old am I again?


Double stone washed. Double. The lake.

Monday, December 7, 2009

This year's best letters to Santa by the kids in my class.

I have some real characters in my class this year. Thus, the letters to Santa I do every year had quite a few doozies! I decided that they must be shared with the Cheese Blog world. Of course, the names have been changed to protect the naughty and nice.

Dear Santa,

For Xmas I want a toy Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid,
Donner and Blitzen. But just surprise me. Love, Amanda
(Scott, this one is your kid's)

Dear Santa,

For Christmas I want a pony you can ride on, but fake like the one they sell at Costco. I also want a kitchen set. Lastly, I want a Jolly Rancher.
Love, Lisa


Dear Santa,

For Christmas I want a puppy, a limo, super powers, my own swimming pool and my own hotel. But just bring me what you think is right.
Thank you for the toys from last Christmas. Love, Angela


Dear Santa,

I want a remote helicopter and a phone. Santa, can you bring me these presents?
But what about your reindeer's Santa? Are they doing good Santa or are they doing bad? Can you tell me? Can you Santa? Can you tell me? Please? Santa, can you tell me?
From, Kevin


Dear Santa,

This year I want some
girly legos and a girly TV and some girly American dolls. I want everything girly this year.


Dear Santa,

I would like a chameleon. I also would like a fly swatter (something practical) and a sweatshirt and some itching cream. I really want a statue of you Santa Clause.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Official apology for yesterday's statements.

During a moment of passionate passion and righteous indignation, I made some unfortunate comments about Thurl Bailey and a few other obscenely rude people that disrespected my family that I would like to apologize for.

First of all, when I said I "hated the scent of pine trees" I only meant the pine trees that were at the concert I attended ten years ago. I have no ill will towards other pine trees.

Secondly, Brighton High School has nice stairs and the banisters are well kept. When I stated that I hated Brighton High School, I was referring to only the staff, students and the soda machines. I did not mean to imply that I hated the stairs and banisters. I apologize for those generalizations.

I would also like to pardon my comments about carols. I don't hate carols, I just hate the people that sing them. And to Big T, I say this: I am sorry you had to sing to a row of empty chairs that night, but my hands were tied; people were being rude!

I now realize (because someone else had to tell me) that my comments were ill timed and unbecoming of a former Forgotten Carol audience member. However, I stand by my statement. I was disrespected by some punk 4th graders and their mother. So, I only hate them and Brighton High School. Everyone else is off the hook. You can sleep well at night knowing I don't hate you. I still hate Brighton High School. And I hate really long tube socks too, but that is neither here nor there.

So, in summary: I still hate everything I said I hated (except for the stairs and banister) but I wanted you to get a better idea why I hate it. I apologize for not being more clear. That is my apology and I'm sticking to it. God bless us all, Tiny Tim.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Someone once poured ROOT BEER on me! And I HATE them!

This is a true story, taken from the annals of Cheeseboy time and history and space and time.

I am not one to hold a grudge, (Except that I am) but I have been holding onto this one for 10 years now. Call me a baby, call me immature, call me "classless", but this happened, and it really, really hurt my feelings. A lot. And I am still mad about it.

When I was 23, my wife and I went to a Forgotten Carols concert. I was so excited because Thurl Bailey was a guest soloist and he was one of the best basketball players I had ever seen! (They didn't call him "Big T" for nothing, you know!) He was really good.

We arrived at the Brighton High School Auditorium early that night. I was eager to get a good seat... the closer to Thurl Bailey, the better.

The auditorium was festive that eve. It smelled of yuletide candy canes and high school body odor. The stage was gallantly lit with mirthful Christmas lights, pine trinkets and two large festive banners proclaiming "Merry Christmas!" and "Go Bengals!"

My wife in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled in to our sugarplum plush seats in the second row.

As the show began, I was inundated, no - engulfed in a wave of Christmas spirit. The awe inspiring music made me weep and think of that sweet Tiny Tim, starving and hungry and looking for some Christmas shoes for his dying, crippled father. When Thurl joined in, I was near tears! (Man tears. The kind that chop wood and hunt bear) I was Christmas and Christmas was me. We were as one.

I was simply... having... a wonderful Christmas time.

And then... a Christmas blunder of Grinchy - ultra - Scrooge-like proportions. I heard a pop, and a fizz and I felt something drip down the back of my neck. I turned around to see four young boys, each grinning from ear to ear and holding a fresh can of Barq's Root Beer.

At this moment, I could no longer hear Thurl Bailey's angelic voice or smell the sweet odor of gingerbread emanating over the audience. I was furious. How dare they? HOW DARE THEY?!

Here is the kicker: Barq's is the only Root Beer with caffeine. I'd have been okay if it were A&W or even Sprite, but this was a drink filled with a vile, addictive drug. I had always been taught to say no to drugs and here I had it dripping down the back of my neck. I prayed Thurl wasn't watching. Can you imagine what he would have thought?!

I pulled a tissue out of my man-purse and wiped off the back of my neck. I then turned around and gave the boys the most angry, crusted, ill-tempered look they had ever received in their life. Their mother, clearly not captivated by the Christmas spirit of the occasion, caught glimpse of my grumpy stare and proceeded to have the gall to call me "rude". ME?! SHE was the one that was allowing her prepubescent sons to drink liquid sin at a Christmasy, spiritful occasion. And now, it was dripping down my neck.

I have never been so offended. I have never been so huffy or puffy. I had been disgraced. Sure, I knew there was a chance that there would be so called, "caffeine drinkers" at this occasion. And yes, once these folks got the caffeine in their bodies, they could be a little, shall we say... reprehensible. Further, I really had no expectation that the caffeine would be all over my body.

So, I left. I left like I had never left before. Christmas was over. Thurl would have to sing to an empty seat and a row full of young boys all hawked up on sugary, iniquitous caffeine.

I would just like to make the following statement that I have been waiting ten years to release:

I hate Brighton High School I HATE it. I hate everything associated with that place. I hate their teachers, I hate their students, I hate their stupid soda machines in the lobby!

I would also just like to say that I hate carols (both forgotten and remembered), I hate pine tree scent and yes, that's right... I even hate Thurl "Big T" Bailey.
They didn't DESERVE to have me at their concert. They didn't DESERVE my applause. How... dare... they?! I hate them all. HATE THEM ALL!

(It's so fun to make stuff up about people I hate and have done me wrong)

Monday, November 30, 2009

The Second Annual Cheeseboy Awards for Awful Christmas Songs

It's once again Christmas time and that can only mean one thing: My annual post on the absolute corniest, assuredly mawkish, undoubtedly overplayed, awful Christmas songs that I hate. Yes, if you are like my wife (meaning female), you started listening to Christmas music back in October. To make matters worse, Christmas radio in Utah diluted with horrible local artist's renditions of the old standbys.

So, without further ado, I give you this year's list of Christmas songs I am completely and decidedly fed up with:

1. All I Want For Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey -
I don't want that much for Christmas... just never to hear this song on the radio again. - Ohhh BABY! -

2. Santa Baby - Madonna -
Every time this song comes on the radio, I feel like a piece of Swiss, being scraped up and down on a human sized cheese grater. When I think Yuletide and sugarplums, I think Madonna... trying to seduce Santa Clause.

3. Do They Know It's Christmas? - Band Aid -
There won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time? This song came out in '84 and 25 years later there is still NO snow in Africa? Why are stations still playing this total shlutz? It is absolute garbage (garbage that could be fed to the starving orphans in Africa). I have an idea: never play this song on the radio again and perhaps it WILL start snowing in Africa!

I actually heard this song the other day and immediately turned the station in disgust. The station I changed it to? SAME AWFUL SONG! It's like the rotten Christmas song gods were trying to hunt me down.

4. Last Christmas - Wham
Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away? This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. - Enough said.

5. Feliz Navidad - Especially that awful slow version that says "With lots of presents to make you happy."
This song is so amazingly racist! Christmas is not about gifts and stuff - Christmas is about family and love. However, apparently the song writers think that Spanish people need a lot of gifts to be happy.

**Of course, this list will always and forever have a permanent spot saved for "Lifetime Achievement Award" winner: Christmas Shoes by NewSong. Not only the worst Christmas song of all time, but perhaps the worst song of all time period.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Song of the Day: The Sounds - Dorchester Hotel

I thought about making this my "Song of the Year", but have since found one I like slightly more. This is thick heavy stuff and no song makes me want to run faster or further. Or, if you are feeling a little sad, a little down, why not light up your day with the sound of The Sounds? If you can get past the appearance of the band ('09 version of Flock of Seagulls?), you will totally dig this tune.

***Check out the old lady at the 2:03 mark! So funny!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The world will not end in 2012 and I have proof.

The world (based on common knowledge, Mayan logistical analysis and research done by Hollywood moguls) is about to end! The year? 2012.

Hope I don't get too much ash in my hair.

Well, I guess I better break out my bucket list. I haven't crossed anything off since I made that majestic castle out of old bottles of vaseline and superglue. And people thought I was crazy.

Now, I hate to be the voice of reason, and this may be a first in that regard, but I'm sorry, the world is not going to end in 2012.

That did not feel right.

A quick aside - On tonight's Conan, the world's most underrated comic, Norm MacDonald explains why we should not be concerned about the earth ending in 2012... "I'm not really worried about the 2012 thing because here's the thing - The Mayans they were horrible predictors... Yeah, you see, they predicted the end of the world in 2012. Well, they are all dead."

The world can not end. So many things foretold have not come to pass; scripture prophesy states as much. I can prove that the world is not on the verge of ending. Consider the following:
  • Vampires are not yet walking amongst us. (At least that we know)
  • Windows 7 is actually an improvement.
  • Al Gore has not yet died of sunstroke.
  • George Bush III is not yet President.
  • Sarah Palin is still protecting us from Russia.
  • BYU has still not won a NCAA tournament game in modern times. Nor have they gone to a BCS bowl game.
  • Adam Lambert still has not come out of the closet as a straight man.
  • Thanks to a celebrity dancing show Donny and Marie are relevant again. Wait, hold on... I'm getting word that this is actually a sign of the rapture and that it has happened. - Ah Crap! -
  • Redbox has not yet made their way into the foyers of Mormon churches.
  • Women have not yet embraced HD and Oprah is still on the air.
There you have it, ample proof that the the world is not ending anytime soon. As it is written in the word, the world shall not end in 2012. 2013 maybe, but not 2012. It is written.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Sorry ladies - HD is for men.

Women just don't get the whole HD thing. HD is 100% a man thing. Not having HD for a man is akin to not having testosterone.

Women really could care less about HD. As long as they can make out Oprah's face and Dr. McDreamy's abs, they are in TV heaven! Heck, they don't even need the picture. Just give them Dr. Oz's voice talking about self exams or the crazy ladies from Good Things Utah chatting about making crafty Family Home Evening stencils with leftover mascara and a used popsicle stick.

When watching television with a woman, you can expect that they will do very little "watching". For one thing, they don't have the patience for it. Women very rarely just sit and watch a television show. On average, during a 60 minute program, a woman will actually view about 6 1/2 minutes. Sure, she will have heard every word of the show, but actual eyes-on-screen-time will equate to be roughly 6 1/2 minutes.

Women are programmed to multitask and most feel as though they are wasting time by just sitting and watching. Generally, they are doing crossword puzzles, sewing, crocheting, surfing the web, reading, cleaning up spills or folding laundry while "watching" television. (Granted, if it is a chick flick, a woman will drop everything and watch with every ounce of energy, at least until the couple kiss in the rain)

Men, on the other hand, are visually attached to the television like a hawk to it's prey. This is especially true of sporting events. Given the right game, nothing will draw our attention away from the tube - nothing, and I mean nothing. (Except for one thing)

So, HD matters to men. It matters a lot. Sports are in HD. We men like the sports. (At least real men do) While watching these sports, our eyes are already fixated on that screen with reckless abandon... might as well be crystal clear. Not only crystal clear, but "real life" clear. We men want to feel like we are there, on that football field, and Brett Farve's sweat is dripping on us like a leaky rain gutter. We want Brett Farve's sweat on us... at least real men do.

I mean honestly, what does it matter if "The View" or "Glee" is in HD anyway? And there are some shows I don't really need to see in HD - The Biggest Loser being at the top of that list. The only thing I need to see in HD on that show is Bob's beard; so well groomed, so perfectly trimmed.

My personal belief is that man's desire to see things in HD stems from the early caveman days.

- Grunt... huff... hit man on head with club.

- Can't see... grunt.. arr... man get hit with club.

- Grunt... need higher definition on cave wall... grunt... preferably one with the 1080-line system - a common HD format. A 1080-line system has 1080 vertical pixels and 1920 horizontal pixels, with up to five times the resolution of a standard definition picture.


If only it wasn't $10 extra a month...

Friday, November 20, 2009

Song of the Day: We Were Promised Jetpacks - Quiet Little Voices

This is my most favorite thing to come out of England since the original Office. These guys are simply superb. The best part of We Were Promised Jetpacks is that they look like just normal guys getting together for a bang up time. The thing is, they are NOT normal guys. They are like superheros of rock. Check out "Quiet Little Voices".

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

What I would say to Eeyore if I were the cop assigned to talking him off the ledge.

Why so glum? It's not worth it man. Come on down from the ledge.

Is it because you are sometimes blue? Really, it's going to be fine soon. Max Hall is a senior and can only throw interceptions for three more games.

Is it because you spell your name with two "E"s and then a "Y"? There is no shame in the fact that your parents were into the inventive name spelling fad bull. I have a cousin named Rubin and his parents make him spell it like the friggen' sandwich!

Your friends haven't abandoned you - it's just that you live at the edge of the Hundred Acre Woods and it takes you so long to get anywhere. Heck, even that little pink runt of a pig likes you and we still are not sure what sex it is. Same goes for that weird, masculine female rabbit.

That reminds me of something I have been meaning to ask you: What in the world are two kangaroos doing in the H.A.W. (Hundred Acre Woods)?! I mean, I totally get the owl, the rabbit, bear and even a donkey. But how in the name of honeypot haven did a couple kangaroos migrate into the woods? And don't feed me this "the woods are in Australia" BS! Not a single animal sounds like Crocodile Dundee. Not a one.

ANYWAY... are you coming down or not? Do I really need to go get Christopher Robbin? He's getting too old to deal with crap like this. The first book came out in 1926... why hasn't that kid hit puberty yet? Seriously, not a single hair under those armpits.

Why are you doing this Eeyore? Does it have to do with that tail of yours that is always falling off? This is 2009 - we have doctors that specialize in stuff like that. Speaking of doctors, I know a great one that can get you a prescription for stuff that will perk you right up. He gave that overstimulated tiger some ADD medication and now he just sits in a corner and hums to himself. All that obnoxious bouncing has come to an end.

I read that you are stuffed with sawdust? Sawdust?! No wonder you are so depressed. They couldn't spring for cotton balls? That is just pathetic. First the tail and then the sawdust? There is no excuse for such shoddy craftsmanship.

Really we should have seen this coming. You show all the classic signs of depression: 1. You say, "Oh bother" almost nonstop. 2. You eat nothing but thistles. 3. You are totally bumming everybody out.

I know, people call you a dumb ass. I can see how that hurts. It hurts when people call me that too and I am not even dumb.

I'm coming up there Eeyore. We can work this out.


No, not your P.O.S tail. We both know that won't hold your weight. That nail never holds.

Just slowly back away from the ledge.

This would be a whole lot easier without that miniature thunderstorm directly over your head.

That reminds me, doesn't all that rain make your sawdust all moldy? Nevermind... we can worry about that later. Lets just get you off this ledge and home to your hollow log and no family.

Okay slowly... slowly... slowly... NO! I PROMISE - I'M NOT TRYING TO PRESSURE YOU!

Finally... Thank goodness you're safe. All is well once again in the Hundred Acre.


And Piglet, why are you listening to Barbara Streisand again?

This comercial goes out to my brother, Jake.

Jake - I swear you've gotten your hair cut here before, so I would like to dedicate this ad to you!

Monday, November 16, 2009

Facebook status - Cheeseboy is writing about stupid facebook statuses.

Ever since I joined Facebook, I have been astutely fascinated by it's every whim. There is so much going on on a single page: so much human emotion, so much arrogant hooey, so much inside sarcasm - it's hard not to be captivated by it all.

One thing that I have learned as a dimwitted human being reading facebook is this: Just because you are thinking it, does not mean you need to announce it to the masses. Honestly, many of the posts on facebook are just random thoughts that you would never say out loud. Are people too stupid to make this distinction?

I mean, what would you think of me if I just wandered up to you on the street and said something like:

"I hate the snow, but I looooove the holidays!"

-- "Abe, what the heck are you talking about?!"

"Maize or maze... that is the question"

-- Abe, seriously... are you okay? Why are you saying stuff about maze?

"Are people serious with having 40 items in the 10 item or less line?"

-- Who are you talking to Abe? Your not even AT THE GROCERY STORE!

"My back hurts. Love me some Motrin"

-- Dude, you are such a whiner. Do you WANT people to feel sorry for you?

"Anyone have any Farmville plants they are willing to trade?"

-- I'm worried about you Abe. Really. What the %#!* are you talking about?

"Stupid #!@* tin foil! Never tears right."

-- Why are you talking in symbols? Have you hit rock bottom?

-- Also, you are really passionate about tin foil.

"Passion is a right of passage and we all have that right. - H. Terrance Emerson"

-- You are just making crap up now, aren't you?

"Anyone have a good recipe that incorporates rhubarb?"

-- What... the...

I believe the most commonly used facebook tool is the "like" button. The problem is that I like just about everything.

"Kevin Smithson became a fan of the Crossroads Community Food Donation Co-Op"

Here you go Kevin... a "like" from me. Becoming a fan of giving food to the poor... you are a good person, regardless if you actually give food to the poor or not. If you are a fan, that is good enough for me.

"David Larson and Tommy Yougun are now friends via the friend finder"

Thumbs up from me. Nice to see people go out of their way to make new friends.

Vicky Mixon: Rescued a puppy today from a man with a rifle.

LIKE FOR YOU. Wish I could give you 3 likes Vicky... puppy diva of sainthood.

Another problem I have is that I get so liberal with my giving of "like" I accidentally like things that should without a doubt not be liked. This is always embarrassing.

Thomas Stonehouse: Grammy died today. She lived a good life.


Jerry Submarington: So sick! Feels like my limbs have fallen off.


I always realize my mistake like 3 hours too late. Then I have to explain my like in the comments:

"Oh crud... sorry Thomas. I didn't mean that I like that your Grammy died today. I meant I am happy she lived a good life. I'm sure she was a good Grammy. Are we still "friends"?"

"Uh Jerry. Sorry, didn't mean to like your limb problem. I just thought the way you phrased it was a bit funny since you have such small arms and all. Like a dinosaur. Are you made at me?"

Finally, I always get a kick out of the people that invite me to join the anti-facebook causes:

You have been invited to join "1,000,000 strong to get facebook to go back to the old format."

Screw the poor in Cottonwood! Now THIS is a cause I can sink my teeth into! What do I need to do? Put a lawn sign in my yard? Go door to door? Write letters to facebook? This is important and life changing! HOW DARE THEY?! HOW DARE THEY CHANGE THE FORMAT OF THEIR OWN WEBSITE!? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?! WHAT IS THIS... COMMUNIST CHINA?!

You know who else changed the format of their website? Hitler. Facebook is soooo socialist. It's just another sign our country is rotting... rotting like a rotten, rotting dead hamster, decaying in a basket of rotting apples.

Actually, I didn't really realize that they had switched formats, but I really feel I need to start getting more passionate about stuff and this is a good place to start.

Another big one I have been getting lately is: "Join the cause - Keep Facebook free!"

Are people really concerned about this? Sorry, can't join this cause. If they charged money to use Facebook, the cause "Keep Facebook free!" would die and I would never be asked to join it again.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Song of the Day: K'naan - Wavin' Flag

I'm not sure if I can make up for yesterday's clearly bizarre and underwhelming post with a Song of the Day. Sometimes I think maybe I try too hard, and I think that applied to yesterday's post. That and I was in a very strange mood. I have hope that maybe two people out there liked it. If I can touch the lives of just two people, I have done my job.

Anyway, if any song can stem the tide of disappointment, it is this one. This song comes from K'naan. I know, I know, I rarely post hip hop or rap as a SOTD, but I have to make an exception. This guy is terrific and his tunes are catchy. This song, "Wavin' Flag" is unbelievably good and it has recently been announced as the official song of the 2010 World Cup. My thanks to Chris over at Bowling Stone music blog for introducing me to this awesomeness. Making Canadian cyber friends is the best.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Fight for a cure: One man's (me) horrific pink eye experience.

I've never had pink eye before. I've had every other minor illness known to human kind (except monkey pox and lice), but I have somehow escaped pink eye. Until a week ago...

My eye is still a little pink.

Googling pink eye is difficult to do with one working eye, but I somehow garnered up the conviction and courage to complete the task. While Googling, I was sure to hum the following tune:

- I am a man who will fight for your honor .

I was not sure how this inspirational song would help my eyeball become white again, but somehow, in some small momentous way, it seemed appropriate. (Also, I have been watching a lot of Karate Kid II lately)

Dr. Google said that I could have got pink eye a variety of ways, but the most shocking (but I am still not sure most likely) was from fecal matter in the eye!

"Fecal Matter In The Eye" was actually my first choice for our high school garage band name. Alas, me and the boys emphatically went with "Bloody Stool". Looking back, the poopy eye name would have been so much more prophetically savvy. Unless of course, I develop the other torturous condition at a future date in my life. I can only hope this happens; life would then have really gone full circle for me.

Now, it seems that I am always washing my hands after using the restroom. Just something I was taught from an early age, I suppose. It's a retched and monotonous habit really - all that soap and water and drying and/or wiping on the front of my pants - (Depending on if the restroom is out of paper towels or if their electric hand dryer is malfunctioning) It's a never ending cycle and an irritating cleaning vexation.

I've actually considered inventing pants for kids with built in hand towels on the upper thighs. This is where kids dry their hands anyway and cotton is so much more absorbent than denim.

Several newscasts recently have had special reports on how long one should wash their hands for after using the restroom. Apparently, in order to rid your hands of every germ, you must sing the ABC song twice. The ABC song? Well, I have done a little research of my own and I find that the best song to wash your hands to is,"Nothing Compares to You" It's slow, methodical, and ever so boring... but has a great message. Really, it's everything a hand washing song should be.

♪♪♪It's been seven hours and fifteen days since you took your love away I go out every night and sleep all day since you took your love away since you've been gone I can do whatever I want I can see whomever I choose I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant but nothing I said nothing can take away these blues, 'cause nothing compares... nothing compares to you ♪♪♪

Sure, it is a little embarrassing when I am at Jazz games or in a port-o-potty line, but it gets the job done. It is best to just look at the starers and say in a slow, directed whisper, "My hands are clean. My hands are clean..."

I am also considering inventing a travel sized black light to prove the cleanliness of my hands.
ANYWAY, What I am trying to say is that I am fairly certain that my eyeballs have had any direct contact with fecal matter. I can't be positive about this though - I did find my contact on the toilet seat earlier that day. Fortunately, there weren't any brown streaks that I could see, so I didn't even need to rinse it... just blew it off a little bit.

Still, really... HIGHLY unlikely that there was any fecal matter in my eye.

I know what you are thinking: How in the tree chickens name did you find the contact lense on the toilet seat? Another good question. All I can say is that when I sat down, four words came to mind - princess and the pea... princess... and... the... pea.

So, my eyes are finally back to normal. It was nice to support breast cancer awareness for the past few days though. People could just see the passion for this cause in my eyes.

If you would like to make a donation in my name, you may click here.

(Make sure you tell them Cheeseboy's eyes sent you. They will know what that means)

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Why I have a love/hate relationship with fast food. (But mostly love)

I love fast food. If I loved it any more, I'd have to marry it. Actually, I'd have to polygamist marry it because I couldn't pick just one wife. I'd have one wife named Wendy living in the basement and one wife named Kay F. Cee living in the attic with our six pieces of extra crispy.

Did I cross a line?

- Oh, I am just getting started. -

French Fries:

McDonalds has some killer good fries - just as long as they are served steaming hot. Allow them to cool for more than 38.2 seconds and you are left with tasteless, gooey, yellow gummy worms.

Of course, at McDonalds, you always have those tiny parcels of fries at the bottom of the box. Why are they giving us these tiny, pellet sized fries? I'd much prefer the full sized ones. They could send those tiny sized fries to people that really need them - like to the poor in Finland or to people in our own country with STD's, or to albinos.

Wendy's has thunderific fries, unless of course the fry cook gets a little overanxious with the salt shaker. Wendy's fries are not as bad cold. However, unless one wants soggy potato pancakes, one should be warned to never microwave their fries. Also, take food out of bag when microwaving as the plastic straw may melt all over your #3 meal with cheese.

Arby's regular fries are disgusting. I once tried to give a hobo some regular Arby's fries. The hobo pulled a face and gave the fries to his ratty dog named Snowcone. Snowcone took one look at those things and turned and drifted away. Hobos are such pompous jerks sometimes. I hate hobos when they get in these sorts of moods.

(**Update: I have been informed that Snowcone was actually not a dog at all, but a bag of hair that the hobo had been saving. Still, he called his bag of hair "Snowcone", which is very curious, given that the hair was black and it was the winter time)

Arby's has a secret weapon... something the other places lack: the curly fries. These are the crown jewel of the fast food industry - and it took me a long time to realize that they were made from actual curly potatoes. (mostly imported from Canada, where curling has become sport) I defy you to find me a better fast food french fry than the curly fry.

You ever get one of those super long curly fries - one so long that you have to show everyone just to prove that they actually exist? I once had a curly fry that was 6 feet long - longer than a Twizzler super rope. This curly fry would extend from my head to my feet and could have been used for various devices including: to bungee down the load in the back of my truck. Fortunately, I had bungee cords and the six feet of curly fry ended up raveled up in my belly like a content rattlesnake, coddled in 48 ounces of Mountain Dew. (They only do this for the rattlesnakes at Hogle Zoo on Easter morning)

Hobos definitely would not turn down curly fries.


Wendy's makes an okay cheeseburger, albeit a square one. A single is plenty though, unless you want to be covered in grease the rest of the day. (** This does not apply to Richard Simmons, who is covered in grease every day.)

Burger King makes something called the "Whopper", which I find delightfully extraordinary until about the third to last bite. I then find that I am always asking myself, "Why did I just eat that?!" The thing about the Whopper is that it has about a cup of mayonnaise on each bun.

Imagine this: if each American that purchased a Whopper next year asked for no mayonnaise... that's enough mayonnaise to feed every hungry orphan in Russia!!! Hope they like Mayonnaise!

McDonald's makes the Big Mac, which for some odd reason I have a very strong craving for about every 2-3 months or so. Also, I get a very strong craving for them if I am pregnant, which seems to happen every 2-3 months or so. Also, I get a strong craving for Big Macs whenever I hear a Michael Buble tune. I haven't figured out that one yet, but I think it may have something to do with the sauce. (I tend to hear Michael Buble tunes ever 2-3 months)

Carl's Jr. has the "Six-Dollar Burger" which is fine, but something I never crave - even when I see the commercials with the girl getting ketchup all over herself. I do get the craving to hand her a napkin.

Hardees had this burger on a sourdough bun that was like eating something out of a imaginary land of plentiful delight and nonsensical nonsense of tastiness. Of course, Hardees has vanished, as has their spokesman, Karl "The Mailman" Malone. (Last seen grizzled in the Ozark Mountains)


McDonalds has the orange drink, which I am assuming is straight sugar-water mixed with a slight amount of orange flavoring. I actually like this stuff much better than Tang, but not as much as orange soda. Sometimes when I eat breakfast at McDonalds, I will get the orange drink instead of orange juice. Their orange juice just has so much pulp and I am sure their orange drink has just as much vitamin C. A healthy alternative, really.

A&W has a nice rootbeer fountain option. I always get the rootbeer at A&W. I think it is because I like to pull that long handle. Reminds me of Vegas and I win every time.

I am very opposed to any fast food place that won't allow you to get your own drinks. (Wendy's, I am looking at you, you sorry excuse for a Coke! And you call yourself fast food?! "Fast" is not having to cut in line and wait for "Beatrice" to have a sliver of time to refill my medium, blue Poweraide! )


What is this, 1978? Do I need to put on my rollerskates and grow a handlebar mustache and bring my hula hoop?! I guess I do... when I go to Wendy's.

Why don't you trust me to get my own drink? Are you afraid I am going to break your machine? Take too many cups? Push all those tiny buttons down on the lids? Lick the grates? Drink straight from the fountain? Hang a pinata from the Diet Coke lever and let the kids swing away? Invite hobos in for free drinks on me?

I love fast food. I'm just a little bit picky... except when it comes to curly fries. I guess in a way, I am more like that hobo than I'd like to admit. Some days, regular Arby fries are just not going to cut it.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Improv Everywhere Clip of the Day: I Love Lunch!

Thanks to a good friend, I have been introduced to a group called "Improv Everywhere" - a group of people that will improvise comedy in different social situations. This is their latest clip and it had Lincoln and I laughing for hours. So, without further ado, I hereby introduce a new segment on the Blog O' Cheese... The Improv Everywhere Clip of the Day!

Thursday, November 5, 2009

More spunk! (Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team)

My wife has taken to watching something called, Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team.

My wife is not a cheerleader. Nor is she the cheerleader type. **

FYI: Cheerleading is not a hobby, it is a sport, and becoming a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader is the pinnacle of the sport. It's like when you get to the top of the cheerleading mountain and look down at the other cheerleading mountains... and those mountains are like little midget hills, with little midget cheerleaders. And your mountain? Your mountain is the Matterhorn - and not the wimpy one in Europe without the white monster that lives in the middle and scares tourists.

I watched this show and not for reasons that you may think. I watched once because Cathi watched. I was forced to watch. I was an innocent spandex watching bystander. I suppose I could have gone downstairs and watched baseball, but it's cold down there and my wife gets frightened easily when cheerleading is involved.

In order to make the Dallas cheer squad, you must sit in a tub of water (in a bikini tiny bikini - because regular swimsuits will throw the machine off kilter and the muscular black guy in the tight shirt may start to cry) and have your body fat calculated. This is a requirement. You want to make the team? Strip down and get in the tub. Anything less than 7% is unacceptable.

The Dallas cheer squad will absolutely not put up with the absence of spunky. You BETTER spunkify your routines or... or... you are dead in the water. Dead in a tub of body fat calculating water.

Think about how much hairspray is in that water. I bet by the the last cheerleader, you wouldn't want to light a match by that thing.

Here is the thing that I really don't understand: Besides the overly pompous and plasticy faced, 40-something squad instructors, nobody gives a crap about who makes the team! Let's face facts here... 97% of the folks that are watching these women are beer-bellied buffoons like this Joe. I know exactly what he is thinking:

"Boy, look at those high kicks... they just aren't crisp enough."

"What is going on with that girl's spunkyness? She is so off her game tonight!"

"Look at that girl?! Did she even GET IN the tub of water?! She's easily packing around an extra 2 or even 3 pounds!"

"This is total bull! These women are a disgrace to the Dallas star!"

Thankfully, we have this show to now weed out the pretenders. In the episode I watched, one girl stated that she was so torn about her audition she might get a sandwich instead of pizza that night. Can you believe that?! A sandwich?! Now that is commitment and spunkiness all wrapped up together in a tight fitting, bone crushing, spandex unitard.

**I mean no offense to those that may be of the "cheerleader type" persuasion. By this, I mean if you have implants, are a high maintenance blond and have the ability to kick you foot above your head - you are still a person, and that is what is important in God's eyes.

I'm back.