Monday, May 31, 2010

Me... Cheeseboy, in the back of Burt Reynold's Pickup truck.

And now... the video that you all have been waiting for: Cheeseboy in the back of Burt Reynold's pickup truck! 

I just hope and pray that it doesn't disappoint too much.  The first video is an introduction and the second video is while we are on our way to Burt's place.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Saturday Graph (On Sunday) - The Only Time in Which I Don't Mind Listening to a live Reggae Band

Howdy everyone.  It's difficult for me to follow my last post - which seems to be the king of all posts - but I'll try anyway.  I apologize - Saturday's graph is a day late, but at least it's here.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Greatest First Grade Program of all time!

I hesitated on posting these videos, but you really can't see any kid's faces because my wife is filming so far back in the Gym-eteri-orium and the quality is so bad.

I am the bozo leading the kids in the white shirt.

What we have here is a version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" that I changed the words to. It is all about our year in first grade. If you get bored, skip to 2:52, when our guitar soloist takes the stage.

Also, I have a crummy camera, so I apologize for the crummy footage.

I also taught them, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" by The Clash.

Here are the lyrics I changed to the Bohemian Rhapsody song for First Graders:

Is this
Or is this fantasy?
Caught in a landslide of
Homework brutality
Open your eyes look up to the
and see…

I’m just in first grade.
I need no sympathy
Because I’m easy come, easy go
Say bye bye, say hello
Any way the ball goes
Doesn’t really matter to me…
To me.

I’m done with first grade.
I was scared that first day
But now I am so glad I stayed
My life has just begun
But summer’s here and now it’s time to play

I don’t mean to make you cry
You’ll be happy in the summertime
And carry on, carry on,
And mix some pancake batter

I’m too old to cry
I think that I have grown so very tall

My mom brings me in a minivan
Give her smooch
And a smooch
Then I see the van van go

Monkeybars and lunchtime
Very, very frightening


Gal - i- leo
Let me grow

I’m such a smart kid
Everybody loves me

He’s just a smart kid
From a smart family

We are so full of curiosity

Recess comes, Recess goes
Will you let me go?
Mish - MULE - Lah
Let me go
Mish - MUL - Lah
Let me go
Mish - MUL - Lah


No, no, no, no, no no no!

Mama Mia
Mama Mia


Does anyone know when we go to lunch?


So you think we are very small fries
First grade has totally flown by

Almost second grade baby
Just gotta get out
Just gotta get right out of here

Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!

First grade really mattered
Anyone can see
First grade really mattered
First grade really mattered
TO ME!!!


Thursday, May 27, 2010

How the "Old Lady that Swallowed the Fly" really went down.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.  I DON'T KNOW WHY SHE SWALLOWED THAT FLY!

Old Lady: Oh my, oh my, oh my.  I think I just swallowed a fly.

Daughter: Mom, for the last time,  you didn't swallow a fly.  Did you take your meds this morning?

Old Lady: This time I am serious.  I yawned while I was driving my Harley.

Daughter: Mom, you don't even own a Harley. 

Old Lady: I am 96 years old.  I will own a Harley if I want to.

Now, I need a spider and quick!

Daughter: Noooo!  Mom, don't do iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

Old Lady: [Gulp] 

Daughter: How many times do I have to tell you that the spider will not catch the fly?

Old Lady: But I like the way it wriggles and wiggles and tickles inside me.

Daughter: I am pretty sure that wasn't even a spider mom.  That actually could have been my bracelet.

Old Lady: Now, where are my birds?

Daughter: You ate them all, mom.

Old Lady: All of them? I did?

Daughter: Mom, this is the 16th "fly" you have "swallowed" in the last month.

Old Lady: Feathers... is DEAD?!

Daughter: Yes mom. You ate her yesterday.  Remember, you had to go to the ER because the talons?

Old Lady: But you said you could hear her tweeting?

Daughter: No, I said I tweeted that my mom is eating all our pets. 

Old Lady: I don't know what that means. I'm tired.  I am a tired old lady.

Daughter: Why are you putting your shoe on your head?

Old Lady: I am trying to go home.  It's broth for you and your siblings tonight.  Then you are getting a sound whipping!

Daughter: Mom, I am 68 years old and an only child.

Old Lady: Don't you talk to me like that.  I am your mother.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

"The Strong Teachers" by Mindy

There is a girl in my class and I am fairly sure she thinks I am awesome.

What can I say, I am awesome.

This girl's - we shall call her "Mindy" - goal in life is to try and make me laugh.  I know this because in January we made a list of New Year's resolutions and numbers 3-8 were, "Make Mr. Cheeseboy laugh."  That resolution was easily achieved because I laughed the second I read her list of New Year's resolutions.

Well, she unknowingly made me laugh today with her bizarre story from the 7-year-old Netherworld.  I asked the students to write their very best story to give their parents after our program tomorrow.  The stories are actually in nicely bound books that we spend a lot of time on. Mindy decided to write the following story:

The Strong Teachers
Written and Illustrated by: Mindy

Dedicated to: My Mom and Dad because they drop me off at school.

Once upon a time, there was a panda named Mindy.  She was lost in the woods.

She found a tree house.  She lived in it.

There was ice cream and lots of Diet Mt. Dew. (FYI: I drink a lot of Diet Mt. Dew.)

She found Mr. Cheeseboy in there.  Mr. Cheeseboy was like, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Then Mindy died.  Mr. Cheeseboy got $1,000,000,0000. (Not sure why?)

But suddenly there were 1,000,000,000 pandas.

Mr. Cheeseboy killed them all.  (What?!  Just so you know, I love Pandas and I would never do them any harm.)

Mrs. Charley (Another First Grade teacher) was fighting Mr. Cheeseboy with her long toe and fingernails.

Then they got chopped off, even worse she turned into a bull.  Even better she turned into a Queen.  Then she turned into a penguin.  A penguin that played soccer.

She got better and she was rich.  She beat up a strong guy.

The End.

Future Books Mindy Hopes to Write:
The Spectacular Superheroes
The Rainbow
The Dog Who Really Liked Flowers

Monday, May 24, 2010

The ANGRY letter I just sent to Redbox, Inc.

ACTUAL email I just sent to Redbox today at 3:30 MST at this site.  I will post a reply if/when I receive one.

Dear Redbox Employee of unknown name,

I would like to issue a formal complaint about the Redbox service I have been receiving at the Murray, Utah Redbox location. (The one in the McDonalds, across from the Burlington Coat Factory.  Do you know which one I am talking about?  It has the big arches in front of it.) 

First of all, let me just say that I love the service Redbox offers and the fact that I can rent a video for a buck!  A BUCK! Blockbuster be darned! 

My first complaint involves the Redbox machine.  It is always sticky.  Granted, this McDonald's does serve a lot of soft serve and they tend to load their fries with extra salt. Also, this McDonalds doesn't have a playground, which I think is odd, don't you?  A McDonalds with no playland?!  So strange.  Nevertheless, every time I use the machine, a small chunk of my finger-skin is left with the machine.  It's just that sticky.

Secondly, you never have any Steven Segal videos in stock.  It's not like Steven hasn't made a lot of movies; he has a plethora to choose from!  Have you ever seen Under Siege 2: Dark Territory? Do yourself a favor and rent it sometime. (Not available at your Redbox locations.)

Finally, my last complaint is more of a suggestion than a complaint.  I think that Redbox machines should have a curtain that I can pull when I am making my selections.  I always feel so violated when someone is standing right behind me, judging me on my selection of Divine Secrets of a Ya Ya Sisterhood.  It's for my AUNT!  She loves the part about the traveling pants.

I think that a curtain would provide ample privacy.  Plus, I love the feeling of being in one of those photo booths with the curtains.  (FYI: Those photo booths are fun, but the maximum number of cats you can get in one with you is only about 7.  If you know the people that make those booths, can you forward this complaint to them? Do you know those people?) 

Thank you for your time and I look forward to your reply.


PS: How do you get the movies inside the machine?  Do you hire movie midgets?  Also, if there is a Redbox inside a Dollar Tree, one dollar really isn't that great of a deal.  You should make the Dollar Tree rentals like 78 cents or something.

**UPDATE: I received the following response:


Thank you for your e-mail. Your comments, suggestions & business are important to us. I will share the information you have provided with the appropriate parties.

If you have any additional questions, comments, or concerns, please let us know and anyone in customer service would be more than happy to assist you.

Thank you for your valued business,
redbox Customer Care

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Cheeseboy Saturday Graph: Why American Idol Sucks This Year

Back by popular demand, it's the "Cheeseboy Saturday Graph".  It is a simple concept: I create a graph for the world to enjoy.  It's been a long time since I've done one, so I hope I am on my game.

***Also, I am guest posting today on The Chronicles of a Veteran Kindergarten Teacher, so feel free to check me out there too.

Friday, May 21, 2010

The man's wedding/baby shower survival system v. 1.0

I attended a wedding shower today. How many of you men can say that?  That's right... NONE!

It was the 37th wedding/baby shower I have attended in the past six years.

Not that I have been counting. 

When you are a male Elementary School teacher and you teach with a bunch of women, you go to showers, and you like it.  I am positive I have been to more showers already than all of my buddies will ever go to in their lifetimes... combined.

I don't get high, but if I did, I'd most definitely get high before going to one of my coworker's showers.  The games would make more sense and the sparkly tablecloths would totally blow my mind.  Plus, it is the perfect place to have the munchies.

Thankfully, I have devised a shower survival system that has been a trusty stalwart through thick and very thick and has allowed me to partake in the free mini cheesecakes.


1. Games - Do not participate in anything involving drinking from a bottle, candybars in diapers, placing bows on your head, giving advice and sitting in a circle.

2. Food - Stay away from the quiche and salads.  Eat a ton (especially if you went in on a gift), but in order to fit in with the women folk, be sure to say "Well, I really shouldn't, but this looks so yummy and Jenny went to a lot of work."  Also, "I HAVE GOT to get this recipe!" is a mainstay that never fails.

Note: The carrots, broccoli and dip are just there to make the women feel better about the other crap they are eating.  You do not have to eat it!

3. Gifts - It is polite to quietly chat with the other ladies at your table during the opening of presents.  HOWEVER, when a box is opened, you must stop your conversation and say, "Oh, how nice!"  

Have a teammate buy a gift card to Target and give them five bucks.  For every additional dollar you donate for a "team gift", you are allotted an additional eclair at the shower.
This is an "unspoken rule" that I made up specifically for men, but that does not make it any less valid for the ladies.

4. The Departure - Leaving early is difficult to do when you are one of two men there.  Women tend to notice by constantly asking,  "Where did Abe go?"  

I've thought hard about purchasing a lookalike shower mannequin, but I think I would just miss the brownies too much.

After all, there are some benefits to being a male teacher in an elementary school.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

When I write a piercing letter, I mean business. Business I tell you!

I am such an idiot. 
I wrote a strongly worded letter to my school board.  This letter had a lot of "albeits", a few "this is a travesty"s  and even a couple "this just ain't right!"s.

(I have no idea how to correctly punctuate the above sentence.)

Yeah, my words had to sting. As I typed with furious fervor, I could just imagine the board members  sitting at their laptop computers, tears streaming down their cheeks, the error of their ways flashing before their eyes.   I held the phone tight to my chest and waited for the inevitable phone call of apology. 

I wrote with abandon. I wrote with earnest.  It was the perfect email, my thoughts were displayed like a pair of dirty boxer shorts on one of those clothes lines they have in the country.  My points were clearly stated and I was riding on a euphoric writer's high.

All I needed was an ending sentence.  Something to drive the point home; something that would stay with them as they sat in church on Sunday; something so momentous, when they would look at themselves in the mirror in the morning, they would see my plight staring back at them.

Adrenaline flowing, I told the school board where they could shove it.  THIS is how I went out:

"Set your table how you desire and let the chips fall where they may!"

Set your table as how you desire and let the chips fall where they may??!

What... the *$@#... does that even mean?

I think I may have mixed 6 metaphors in one sentence.

I only realized how ridiculous that sounded after I had already pressed "send".

Yeah, school board - take that!  I bet your head is totally spinning right now.  I bet you don't even know where my left hook came from.  I bet you are cowering in the corner, scared there might be a round 2.

Let it be known that on the 19th day of May, 2010, Cheeseboy told his school board:

"Set your table how you desire and let the chips fall where they may!"

Heck yeah!  I feel vindicated.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Another Q&A with Cheeseboy

My last round of questions and answers was such a rousing success, I decided to delve into the old mailbag once again.  You, my reading public, make me what I am and you deserve to have your queries answered.

Q: Our first email comes from Georgia O' Keefe of Dollywood, Oklahoma:  Cheeseboy, I need to know, where have all the cowboys gone?

A: Paula Cole had no answer to this back in the 90's, but as the saying goes: If you know less in life than Paula Cole, you might qualify for a special parking pass.

Everyone knows this saying.

Contrary to popular belief, the cowboys have not all ventured to Brokeback Mountain.  (Two did, and they even made a movie about it.) Cowboys really haven't gone anywhere.  In fact, I saw Cowboys on "The Amazing Race" just the other day.  They had these monstrosities on their heads:

To answer your question Georgia, two years ago I was passing through Southern Utah and stopped at a Payson Walmart.  I am convinced that the Payson, Utah Walmart is where all the cowboys have gone.

Q: This question comes to us from Billy Jean King from Yorkshire, South Dakota: Where do you get all of your blasted ideas, Cheeseboy?

A: I'd like to tell you that the come from my creative imagination, but that would be a lie.  My ideas actually come from a box I found buried under my the tree in my back yard about 5 years ago.  I accidentally found the box of ideas while digging for some gold coins I buried.  I was looking for the gold coins I buried because I needed them to buy a book of writing prompts and ideas.

Q: This one from Jake James Cornstarch in the Black Hills in Sarasota Springs, Kentucky: What is the best way to cook a turkey?

A: I get this question a lot, James.  Surprisingly, while I know a lot about many things, I know absolutely nothing about cooking turkeys.  I am certain, however, that the most important part of preparing a turkey is the plucking.

Q: I have an email here from Clementine Saquinto from Calgury, Maine: Cheeseboy, do you have any advice for maintaining a happy marriage? 

A: Even though my wife and I make a perfect pair, we still have to work at our relationship.  My advice is to always go to bed first so that you don't have to yank the sheet back onto your corner of the bed.   

Q: A question from Clive T. Jansburgh of Minnesota: Hey Cheeseboy, I'm confused, what the heck is going on in LOST? How will the finale end?

A: Great question, Clive.  This one is easy.  The entire cast are actually in Hawaii filming a pretend television show about a plane crash and a smoke monster.  The cast will be allowed to go home and work on other projects.  All of us dorks that watch the show will go about having actual lives again and we will stop obsessing with the plot.

Least climatic finale ever.

Q: This one comes to us from Silvia Sandstrom from El Paso, Texas: How did your blog become so popular so quickly?

A: I've been praying a lot lately for followers.  I am not sure if God cares about blog followers, but I think he must.  I think God REALLY wants to see the Burt Reynod's pickup truck post.  A lot of people don't know this, but God is a huge Smokey and the Bandit fan.

Q: Last one for today.  This comes from Buccaneer Steve from the Pacific Islands: Ahoy, what did yar do with me old gold coins I gave you back in '83?

A: I hid them under a tree in my backyard.   Argh. Your parrot concurs. 

Monday, May 17, 2010

Diversity and language in the first grade classroom means wacky conversations in which my head explodes.

Occasionally, the kids in my first grade class will get talking amongst themselves and they have no idea what they are talking about.  Rather than stop them and correct them, I usually let them babble on and on as it is very entertaining to me.  Such was the case today as the following conversation took place amongst my students:

Names have been changed to protect the innocent youngsters.

 Scene: I am counting down from 10 to 1 while the kids are cleaning up.

Jenny: Count in Spanish Mr. Cheeseboy.

[I don't know Spanish, but they like me to count in Spanish for some reason and although I have to really think hard to count backwards from 10 in Spanish, I do my best. Somehow I succeed.]

Samantha: I can count backward from 10 in Vietnamese.

[Samantha is Vietnamese, so much to her delight, I allow her.]

Billy: Calvin is from China.  Have him count in China-ese.

Mr. Cheeseboy: You mean Chinese?

Billy: Yeah.

[Much to Calvin's delight, he counts in Chinese.]

Samantha: What about Amanda?  She is from Switzerland.  She can count in Switzernese.

Mr. Cheeseboy: You mean German?

Samantha: No. That's what they speak in Germany.

Mr. Cheeseboy: Well, they speak it in Switzerland too. 

Samantha: They speak two languages there?

Mr. Cheeseboy: No... I mean yes.  I mean, they mostly speak German.  There is no such thing as Switzernese.

[Amanda proudly counts backward from ten in German.]


Samantha: Do you know Nor-GIAN? 

Alexia: No, it's like my Great, Great Grandpa was from there or something.

Samantha: Where is Norwegia? 

Alexia: I think it's like where it is cold all the time or something. 

Samantha: Where the Polar Bears live?

Alexia: Maybe.  The pilgrims came from there, I think.

Mr. Cheeseboy: Pilgrims? 

Alexia: Yeah, the guys that had the big boats.

Mr. Cheeseboy: You mean Vikings?

Alexia: No, pilgrims.

Billy: Where is your family from Mr. Cheeseboy?

Mr. Cheeseboy: Some of them are from Russia.

Billy: Are your sons from Russia?

Mr. Cheeseboy: No, they are from here.

Billy: Do they speak Rush-ANIAN there?

Mr. Cheeseboy: No Billy.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

A conversation between Donna Martin, Andrea Zuckerman and Kelly Taylor as they get ready to attend the Twilight Convention.

You may not be aware of this, but apparently there is something called a "Twilight Convention".  The Twilight convention is a lot like a Star Wars convention, except that a bunch of obsessed, nerdy women  go instead of men. 

This is a conversation between the girls of Beverly Hills 90210 as they are getting ready to head to the convention.  

I just completed this post and reread it and I have no idea if this is funny or just plain strange.  I was going to just delete it, but I will let you, the Blog O' Cheese audience decide.  Besides, just like episodes of 90210, they can't all be winners, right?

Donna: What do you think Kelly?  Can I pull off the dark, mopey Bella sweatshirt look?

Kelly: Donna, please - you are Donna Martin!  You can pull of any look you want.

Donna: [giggles] Maybe in 1990, but I am 38 years old now.

Andrea Zuckerman: COME ON YOU GUYS!  Would you please stop chatting!  We are going to be late for the first Volteri Vixen face painting.  It's in the Forks Crossing room and I do not want to be late!

Kelly: How about me? Is my skin too sparkly?

Donna: Oh Kelly, we are going to the Twilight Convention.  Everyone knows there is no such thing as "too sparkly".

Kelly: Tell that to Dylan.  He is so mean to me sometimes.  I just hate him!

Andrea Zuckerman: Seriously guys!  Billy Burke - AKA - "Charlie Swan"  is going to be signing posters in the Clearwater room in 20 minutes.  If I miss that, I am going to go vampire-ape crazy both of you!

Donna: Steve kinda looks like a vampire.  Do you think Steve could be a vampire?

Kelly: Sometimes you are such an idiot, Donna.  Does Steve have FANGS?!  Is Steve WHITE and PALE?!  Does Steve have a SICKLY way about him?! Oh wait...

Andrea Zuckerman:  You two are such... morons!  PLEASE HURRY!  The "Jacob Black chest rub" is in the Northwest wing at 2:00 and you two are still not dressed!  Trust me, you do not want to miss that.

Donna: Are we going to go to the Peach Pit before?  I'm hungry.

Kelly: You are always hungry Donna.  Besides, I heard the "Esme Smoothies" at the convention's Bite Bar are awesome.

Donna: Maybe you can get by with a smoothie, but I need meat.  Maybe a porterhouse.

Kelly: I wonder if David is going to DJ the convention?

Donna: I hope not.  He's supposed to be watching the kids.  Besides, I've told him over 100 times that being a DJ at 40 is just pathetic.

Andrea Zuckerman: WHAT ARE YOU TWO EVEN TALKING ABOUT?  HURRY UP! If I miss the Cullen culinary vegetarian demonstration, these plastic fangs in my mouth will be shoved directly up...

Kelly: Where are the body sparkles? I just need to add a few more sparkles.

Donna: Do you think Brandon would be jealous if he saw you ogling at Jacob today?

Kelly: Brandon?  No, he is a gentleman.  Always has been.  He's from Minnesota, you know.

Donna: Don't you guys think it is a little sad that we are 38 and going to the Twilight convention?

Kelly: Well, I bet we will be younger than most the women there.

Andrea Zuckerman: FINE, I AM LEAVING WITHOUT YOU! I want to be at the doors when it opens.  I hear the first 2,000 people get a free bottle of Edward cologne, and one lucky winner will get acting lessons from Kristen Stewart.

[Slams door behind her]

Kelly: Donna, did you say something?

Donna: No.  You?

Kelly: Nope. You ready to go?

Donna: Yeah, but I swear we are missing someone.  Hm...

Kelly: BRENDA!  Where's Brenda?!

Donna: We'll find her.  She's probably at the bar with Dylan. Do I look okay?

Kelly: Donna, as always, you look like a large Haflinger horse.

Donna: Thanks Kelly.  You've always been a good friend.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Cheeseboy's Guide to Overcoming Awkward Social Situations: Volume 3 - A Human Begs you for Money

Hobos are generally much more resourceful than we give them credit for. After all, they take our money from us in exchange for absolutely nothing. Nobody else in the world does this effectively except perhaps Celine Dion and Stephanie Meyer.

It's 2010 and beggars have come a long way since those trying days of traveling on trains with one of those bandannas tied to the end of a stick.

Folks nowadays don't just ask for money. No, they have other methods and these methods almost always involve startling me in a Walmart parking lot. It always seems to be the same story...

"I need five dollars for gas money to get me home."

If you are like me, and I know most of you wish you were, you do not hold a single cent in your wallet (or man-purse, pouch, handbag, and bursa) AND I am pretty sure panhandlers don't accept American Express.**

Now, I know there are varying opinions on whether or not you should actually give money to these mendicants and we could probably have a rousing discussion while slamming our fists on mahogany roundtables in anger. Of course, during in this hypothetical altercation, we'd all have to wear white wigs with tails and our obscenities would have to be in proper Oxford Style English.***

Let it be known that I, Cheeseboy, promise not to judge you based on your panhandler giving beliefs.

Let it also be known that I, Cheeseboy, do not give to panhandlers for one simple reason: I never, ever have cash on me.

What I am here to help you with is the awkwardness you may face during a rejection of a panhandler. Or, at the very least, I am here to explain what works for me.

1. Pat your pockets. This gives the panhandler the allusion of poverty. In fact, if you visit a poor orphanage in the Ukraine, you'll find a hundred children eating porridge while patting their pockets in unison.

I use this method all the time and it seems to have a fairly high success rate. Beggars see me patting my pockets and they either know I am broke or they think I am insane. Or both. Either way, I'm good.

2. Start making bird calls while looking in the sky. It is important to do this as you are walking to your car as it will ward off any logical beggar before they make their initial approach. Incorporating this method will save you a lifetime of embarrassment.

Besides the above, it is a little known fact that bird callers worldwide are never bothered for money by beggars. In a recent survey of bird callers, only 15% of bird callers had been bothered by beggars in the past year. However, the other 85% admitted to begging. ****

3. When they ask you for money, ask them if they have change for a $50.00. When they say yes, ask them if you can have it because you really need the money for gas to get home. They will be so confused, they will leave you alone.

I call this the "ol' cadger swap".

4. If approached by a supplicant beggar, tell them that you do not have any cash on hand, but you would be happy to give them a rabbit's foot for good luck. Then, pull a bloody rabbit's foot out of your pocket (both blood and rabbit's foot could be fake, especially if you are against this sort of thing) and attempt to hand it to the beggar.

Most of the time, the beggar will simply turns around and walk away. If they don't, you're only out a ketchup packet and a two dollar fake rabbit's foot.

I am convinced that if you incorporate these four easy steps, you will never experience an awkward or embarrassing moment with a panhandler again.

You're welcome.

** Although I am sure they will politely write down your credit card number if you offer it to them. Just be sure to give them the security code as well. They will need it for their online purchases.

*** Also, I'd like a few midgets wearing 16th century armor to be there to ensure tranquility.

**** Bird calling does NOT pay well.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

A shocking revelation about Cheeseboy

I have a shocking revelation everyone.


It's big.

It's bigger than Bradiffer's breakup. Bigger than Branjellina. Bigger than when that strange celeb couple named their kid "Apple". Bigger than the reissue of the McRib.

You might want to sit down for this. No? Then maybe just hold onto something stable.... Uh, that floor lamp is not stable. Here, just sit down.

Are you ready for this? Okay, deep breath...

I... do not own... a cell phone!

- gasp! -

I know.

Yesterday I made a statement about my lack of a cell phone on someone's blog and apparently all hell broke loose. (Notice the correct use of the word "loose".) Apparently someone was so upset at this they threw their sofa through their front bay window. One fellow blogger swore she had never heard such blasphemy as she passed out from sheer astonishment. Insanity ensued.

Before I begin my epistle on why I do not have a cell phone, I will allow you to pick your jaws up off the basement floor and let the yelping pooch in from the cold.

Now, you heard me right. I do not own a cell phone and I never will. I have my reasons:

Reason #1 - I hate cliche cell phone phrases.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get this." Who do you think you are, Jack on Lost? I do not enjoy chop liver, but I suppose I will happily play the part while you gallivant around with one finger in your ear and the other on your phone while I stand here like a moron.

"My sister has that exact same phone!" Really? This EXACT SAME PHONE?! They told me this was a one-of-a-kind. That's what the man at Verizon told me. He said they specifically crafted it to meet my needs. He lied. I'd like to see your sister's phone. I bet she doesn't have the same desktop photo as me.

"I have to stop at the Verizon store after work and change my plan." Hm. I don't. Sucks for you.

Reason #2 - I do not need a cell phone.

When people hear that I don't have a cell phone, their first question is ALWAYS, "So how do people reach you?"

Hm. A perplexing quandary to be sure. How would someone need to reach me in an emergency? Let's see...

My school's phone.
The phone in my classroom.
My home phone.
My wife's cell phone.
Any one of my 3 email addresses.
My facebook account.
The Blog O' Cheese emergency comment section.
US mail.
Instant Messaging
Singing telegram.
They could just COME TO MY frigging house!
Morse code. (I learned it during my brief stint in the Navy.)
String with two cans tied to the ends.

Yeah, I am totally screwed if I don't get a cell phone.

The next question I am undoubtedly asked is, "Well, what if your car breaks down? What are you going to do then?"

This is a huge worry for me in that I drive approximately fifteen miles a day in a car that I have never once had a problem with. Nevertheless, I have given it much thought, and if this indeed happened, I would probably do one of three things:

1. Wither up into the fetal position on the floor of the backseat of my car and weep incessantly.
2. Walk (yes, I said walk) to one of the 12 gas stations along my route from home to work and use one of their phones.
3. Get a piggyback ride to work from one of the old crossing guard gals that are always waving to me as I drive by.

Reason #3 - Why in heaven's name would I want people to bother me?

I do not have a job in sales. I do not have patients waiting for a new heart in a thermos full of ice. No one works for me.

I simply don't need to feel "needed" by your unnecessary calls.

Reason #4 - Blue Tooth

Self explanatory.

Reason # 5 - Cliche phrases about the bill.

"My cell phone bill went up again!" - Mine didn't.

"My 12 year old daughter racked up a $200.00 bill for texting." - And why is she still living, with the phone still in her backpack?

"I am so ticked because I have to switch to blah, blah, blah for my iPhone to blah, blah, blah." - Yeah, well I am ticked because you are wasting my time by telling me this crap.

That is it folks. I do not own a cell phone and I doubt if I ever will. Strangely enough, here I am BLOGGING... on an actual COMPUTER! I have no idea how technology hasn't passed me by.

And you should totally check out my thumbs. Having never texted in my life, they are as smooth as a baby's bottom... or a baby's thumb... unless the baby owns a cell phone as many of them do.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Yo-Yo imposter and my goofy son.

Well, I am not really in the mood to write today, so I thought I would share two funny videos.

I am not sure if this first video is funny to anyone else but me. I guess we'll see. It is proof that my son is a total goofball.

This second video is one my brother shared. Apparently, this guy has been making the rounds back east, fooling morning show after morning show into believing that he is a yo-yo master. This video brought hearty laughter tears to my eyes. If you are interested in this hilarious guy's visits to other stations, click here.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

A evening in the hot tub with Mario and Luigi.

Luigi: Hey Mario.

Mario: Hey Luigi. Hop in, the water's warm.

Luigi: Hold on. I need to put a swim cap on my mustache.

Luigi: Why is the water all green?

Mario: Oh, Snookie just got out.

Luigi: Being Italian and buff does have it's benefits.

Mario: Rough day today?

Luigi: Don't you know it.

Mario: Tell me about it. The turtles were brutal today.

Mario: Did you jump on their backs? You've got to jump on their backs.

Luigi: Mario, do you think I am a moron? I've been doing this for years. Of course I jumped on their backs, but some of them were flying all over today.

Mario: I hate the fliers. Did you jump twice? I tell you every friggin' night, you have to jump twice.

Luigi: Yeah, but the turtles were fickle today, and they just kept coming. I swear we must live on a turtle farm, and they all want to kill us.

Mario: You're just now realizing this?

Luigi: Bro, my arm is killing me. I must have slapped 2,000 question mark boxes.

Mario: That sucks, but you're so little?

Luigi: Yeah, darned turtle got me as I was heading home.

Mario: Shrinkage?

Luigi: Like a honey that shrunk the kids.

Mario: Been there.

Luigi: Are you sore too?

Mario: Yep. Hardcore. Will you pass the mushrooms?

Luigi: You know that stuff will kill you?

Mario: Yeah, but it always makes me feel bigger.

Luigi: You don't need it though. I like you the way you are. You're adorable when your small.

Mario: Thanks bro.

Mario: How many coins did you collect today?

Luigi: Like 126 I think. You?

Mario: None. I never collect coins. We never get to spend them and the Princess certainly could care less about how many we have.

Luigi: I don't know why you keep talking about her, Mario. She is not that into you.

Mario: Then why is she always waiting by that flag pole for me?

Luigi: Dude, she does the same thing for me.

Mario: Yeah, but is she wearing that hot pink dress?

Luigi: Every time.

Mario: Oh.

[awkward pause]

Luigi: Got any plans for the weekend?

Mario: I might have a party and drive around in circles in my kart. I just got it running.

Luigi: Can I come?

Mario: Sure, just watch out for banana peels. They can make your car spin in circles.

Luigi: Can I bring my mushrooms?

Mario: I'd rather you not.

Monday, May 10, 2010

PLEASE help me decide if I need HD sunglasses.

Mother's Day was a special day for me. I let my wife sleep in while I fed the boys a bowl full of sugar mixed with a couple grains of cold cereal.

After a healthy breakfast of Sunny D (we were out of "purple stuff") and Fruity O's, we hit the couch for some father son television watching bonding time. Fortunately, Cartoon Network was hosting an all day marathon of Scoobie Doo movies. We were halfway through "Scoobie Doo and the Mystery of the Overanxious Soccer Moms" when this amazing commercial came on:

Now, perhaps am late to the game - as is often the case - and everyone has seen or heard of this fancy, shiny eye-wear. Nevertheless, I saw these glasses and immediately wanted them like I want a Volkswagon Bus painted like a cartoon taxi. I mean, I like watching my HD TV, but what if everywhere I looked was like watching my HD TV?

My life is so incredibly dull. What I want is some clarity, contrast, color and other such settings that I can adjust on my television.

Before I buy these HD sunglasses, I need two things: 1. Your opinion. 2. The following questions answered:

- Do the HD glasses actually make your life more vibrant or just the things you look at?

- What happens if you wear the HD glasses while watching your HD television? Will your brain explode?

- If they are "Euro-style", does that mean I have to start liking techno, going to underground clubs and wearing ultra-skinny jeans?

- Do I have to buy one of those $80 cords to make them work like I did my TV?

-The sunglasses I have now make my world 3D. Everything in the real world is in 3D when I wear them. Will these glasses do that too?

- If I drive a black van, will people mistake me for a rapist?

- I don't want them if I have to wear them when looking in the mirror.

- Are they really worth $10.00 each?! My sunglasses I own now cost $5.

- Is the included visor clip also in HD?

- According to this commercial, I should really take these golfing. Will they help me find my ball when I hit it into the forest?

- Will the HD sunglasses make me more attractive to my wife? (Wait, that was just answered: No. No, in fact, they will make me less attractive to my wife.)

So, what are your thoughts?

Saturday, May 8, 2010

I was "manscaped" yesterday and I feel so violated.

"Teacher Appreciation Week 2010" will go down in the sands of time as the year that I, Cheeseboy, waxed painful.

The theme this year for Teacher Appreciation Week was "Celebratory Salon" or "Salon-A-Thon" or "Salon-E-Sandwich". As is often the case, I forget the technical name for it.

Sign up sheets went up on Tuesday in the teacher's lounge and I was given three choices: arm massage, foot massage or eyebrow wax. (There may have also been an option of "arm massage... by foot", but that sounded gross and I am not that desperate for physical touch.)

I bet you can't guess which option I chose. I'll give you three guesses. There are only three options, so unless you are a contestant on 'Celebrity Jeopardy', you are bound to get the right answer eventually.

Did you take your first guess? I'm sorry, that is incorrect.

The answer is quite obvious, my blogger buddies - being that I am a gorilla of Jewish decent with an overactive hair hormone problem, I chose the eyebrow wax.

I was the only man in the school music/day spa room that day and because of this, I sat proudly. The young spa treatment ladies gathered round me and asked what grade I teach. I responded with "first" and all six of them, as if on cue, let out a collective, "ahhh".

It's rare, but occasionally being a male first grade teacher can be pretty darned magnificent.

By now, a few of my female colleagues had gathered round me to watch as I would have my facial hair torn out by the roots. I could see them cringe a little as each dabble of hot wax on my brow was ripped off.

Surprisingly, my pain was very minimal. It was almost as if my uni-brow had been patiently waiting all these many years to be man-groomed in such a way. The treatment took less than 5 minutes and I had been allotted 15.

"Would you like anything else done?" asked the fetching, brunette with the short hair.

"What do you got?" I replied, feeling rather arrogant about my ability to take pain at the time.

She responded, "Something that is rather popular with men is a nose hair waxing."

I was intrigued.

The other teachers were more intrigued.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I triumphantly balked, "LET'S DO THIS!"

I'd like to say that the other teachers yelled and applauded, but they just stood with stunned but interested looks on their faces.

The wax felt warm and soothing in the inside of my nostril. The stick did not.

- 30 seconds passed and the wax hardened. -

Spunky spa lady returned and asked if I was ready. I nodded and clenched my fists.

I told Miss Waxy that I was having some very bad visions of the scene in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin". Spunky spa diva assured me that the reason that he was in so much pain in that movie is because the waxing was done incorrectly.

That did not make me feel better. Not even a little.

Before I could even respond, she yanked down on the stick as hard as she could.

Out popped a hair mass the size of a hairball. I yelped a little.

The women around me...


I am not positive, but I am pretty sure one of the women said, "Abe, did you have a cat up your nose?"

Very funny.

Spazzy spa gal returned and said with a smirky smile...

"That's one. You ready for the other?"

With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I asked...

"Is it too late to get that arm massage by foot?"

Friday, May 7, 2010

Ancient Chinese Proverbs - by Cheeseboy.

Give a man a fish, you'll feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you'll feed him for a lifetime.

Give a boy a 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid' book, he'll be occupied for an hour.
Give a boy a Nintendo DS, you'll never hear from him again.

Give a man a dish full of food and he will be a happy man.
Teach a man to properly load the dish in the dishwasher and he will avoid the doghouse for quite some time.

Give your child the job of cleaning his room and it will never get done.
Teach your child how to clean his room and you will end up doing all the work.

Give a teacher a thank you card for Teacher Appreciation and he will think you are terrific.
Give a teacher a thank you card with a gift card to Five Guys attached and he will think you are terrific and he will get fat.

Give your first grade class a box of crayons and they will get used.
Allow your class to use washable markers and they will never use crayons again.

Allow your first graders to use washable markers and one will always draw a mustache on himself.
Take the washable markers away and tears will wash off the mustache.

Give your kids a dollar for a lost tooth and they are joyous.
Teach your kids not to be jealous when the neighbor kid gets five dollars per tooth and that will never work.

Give a first grader a stapler and they will use 28 staples on a single page.
Keep them in from recess and give them a stapler remover and they will stab themselves with it.

Give your sons a trampoline and they will jump on it.
Teach your sons to use the neighbor's trampoline and you will not have to buy a trampoline.

Give your spouse a kiss and you might receive one in return.
Give your spouse a foot massage and your chances at a return kiss increase by approximately 35%.
Teach your spouse to kiss and she will wonder what the heck is wrong with you.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Do "tags" still exist? Apparently. Also: More proof unicorns are better than dragons.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not one for blogging games, topics, awards and especially memes. I hate the idea of being creatively chained or forced to write about a certain subject on a certain day. In fact, I don't know how many times my family or buddies will send me news items, jokes or pictures to blog about. Yet, while it would almost always make great blogging fodder, I feel a little awkward posting something that is not 100% mine.

(Except of course, music and video, which I happily post as if it were my own.)

Perhaps I am greedy? Perhaps I want blogging failures to be my blogging failures? Perhaps I am over-thinking all of this? I am not sure, but the fact remains: I do not like to be told what to post.

That being said, I have decided to participate today in a "tag". I have made this life-changing decision for four reasons:

1. I was tagged by Nikki, of Oxford, New Zealand. She owns and operates a blog known to the locals as "Wool'n'Nuts". (Not sure of the meaning of the name.) I have a theory regarding New Zealand: Do exactly as a New Zealander asks. Those that disobey are at risk of being swallowed by the Dark Lords of Mordor.

2. Nikki, of Oxford New Zealand, has a giant unicorn on her blog. Unicorns - as we all know - are the most powerful of the mythical creatures and could, without a doubt, kick the living crap out of a meekly pathetic dragon.

3. Niki owns bizarre New Zealand chickens and roosters which, I am afraid, will peck one's eyes out if one is unkind to their master.

4. Frankly, my last few posts have completely drained me creatively and my brain is screaming at me to be lazy.

Here we go... jump aboard and please... no flash photography.

1. Where were you five years ago?

A. Poor.
B. Begging my wife for food at McDonalds.
C. Fatter.
D. Happy that "The Office" was actually funny.
E. Angry I spent $7.00 on "The Dukes of Hazard".

2. Where would you like to be in five years from now?

A. Hugh Hefner adult diaper designer.
B. Writing for Conan's new show.
C. Donkey Kong World Champion
D. Co-host of "Dancing with the Stars" with Brooke Burke
E. Flying ability.

3. What was on your to do list today?

A. Back wax.
B. "Bully Beatdown" audition.
C. Nightly 'kissing of the wife' rejection time.
D. Write to CBS to bring back "The Tony Danza Show".
E. Unicorn training.

4. What five snacks do you enjoy?

A. Baconnaise
B. Mutton
C. Prune juice and cabbage
D. Anything "pickled" that is not a pickle.
E. Windshield Bugs

5. What would you do if you were a billionaire?

A. Remodel every Target break room.
B. Pay for "Sparrow Boy" to get a sex change.
C. Purchase the Girl Scout Cookie company and sell them year round.
D. Set up an actual dragon v. unicorn fight to settle this nonsense once and for all.
E. Make school lunch edible.

In addition to being tagged, I have also received two blogging awards.

This one from Beth:

And this one from Flock of Fitzgeralds:

Not sure exactly what these mean, other than I am one cool hardcore sonofagun! I am hoping that these awards include a fruit basket or some man lotions. I'd love to get some fresh flowers for my dressing room too. I guess we'll see. At very least they could throw in a nice sculpted wooden duck for the den.

My sincere thanks to both of you!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

My dream job: mechanical hippos with fluttering ears and the jokes they inspire.

Occasionally (and by "occasionally" I mean "never") I am asked, "Hey Mr. Cheeseboy, if you were not a teacher, what would your dream job be?

My response always takes these folks off guard with powerful potency: "Why that's easy... male model."

When they are done laughing, I respond with, "Ha ha, uh, I was, uh, just kidding. I suppose I'd really like to be a Disneyland Jungle Cruise Guide."

By golly, I love Disneyland. I'd take up residence with my family if I could; make a cozy home on the corner of Toon Town and Main.

AND By golly, I LOVE the Jungle Cruise - always have. I ride several times a visit simply to get a sense of the comic timing of the guide and any new jokes that might have been thrown into the mix since my last visit.

AND By golly, I'd be one of the most hysterical Jungle Cruise Guides in Disney Jungle Cruise history. People would flock to my boat with eyes as wide as that teacher gal on Glee for a simple opportunity to hear my buffoonery.

AND By golly, I even have an entire script of new jokes written for my guiding duties. Get a load of these beauties I've come up with:

- Welcome aboard everyone. Please don't sit near the rear of the raft. The last group must have had a pound of Swiss cheese for lunch and it is still lingering.

- Please step all the way to the front of the vessel where we will be having a special visit by Donald Duck later in the tour.
[I put my finger in my ear.]
What's that? Donald was eaten by crocodiles on the last go-through?
Sorry folks, I guess he forgot to duck.

- Oh no kids, I didn't mean to make you cry. Don't worry, they've frozen Donald's head and placed it in a freezer next to Walt's. So no worries, he'll be back when science has advanced to the point of reviving him.

- Oh, looky here at what we have coming around the corner. Looks like some sort of python hanging from a tree. Now folks this would be very frightening had I not known that this particular python is in fact, fake.

- Hold on everyone, I've always wanted to do this.
[I get on the very front of the boat and spread out my arms]
Wow that felt good. No worries everybody; I promise that this trip won't end the same way as that one did. And promise that I won't be posing topless while one of you draws me.

- WOW! Get your cameras out and look portside folks. You are not going to want to miss this!
Oh, you're not sure which side is portside?
Yeah, hold on for a second.
[I pull out a 'Jungle Cruise Guide for Dummies' book and start to thumb through it.]
Ah yes, here it is: portside. It's the left side. Look out the left side folks!
Oh, there's nothing there now? It's passed?
For future reference folks, portside is the left side. You might want to write that down for future reference.

- What a site we have up here on the BLINDSIDE folks.
[Everyone looks to their right.]
No, no... BLINDSIDE. Yes, that's right; it's Sandra Bullock winning an Oscar. Something we'd never thought we'd see in the wild.

- And look there!
[Point to the mechanical headhunter]
There's her X-Husband. He's on the prowl again. Always on the prowl...

- Here we are at the falls and of course we will be going behind them as that is where the mechanical track will take us.
If you look carefully, you'll be able to see the backside of water. (Some jokes can never change.) Not many people know this, but it was under these falls in this very spot that Tinkerbell took her first hit of fairy dust.

- Alright everyone, it looks like we have arrived. Please watch your step as you leave and remember kids: Just say no to fairy dust or you'll end up like Tinkerbell - shriveled, miniaturized and desperate.

I'd be such a natural.

Monday, May 3, 2010

How I didn't want to be a Barbie Girl, but Target forced me to.

- Hi Barbie!
- Hi Ken!
- You want to go for a ride?
- Sure, Ken! - Hop In!
- Ha ha ha ha ha!

During my first year of college I worked in the back stock room of an unheralded Target.

One might say I was known as the "Target Super-Stud" of the back stock room area. It's a title I held dearly as there were only two of us men that worked back there, and the other one may have had an eleventh finger growing out of his shoulder.

For those that may not be aware, Target is your home for Furniture (crappy), Patio Furniture (still crappy, but not as crappy), Gardening Tools (those little hand rake things), Swimwear (non-exotic), Electronics (hand-held, ahem "back massagers"), Toys (including hand-held, ahem "back massagers"), Men's and Women's Clothing (finely crafted), Video Games (expensive) and Bedding (both human and canine).

Alas, this story is not about the marvelous goods and services offered by Target; they are indeed bountiful. No, this is a story about a lowly stock boy and his being treated inhumanely by the corporate Target king fish.

I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie world
Life is plastic, it's fantastic

You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere

Imagination, Life is your creation

Every day. Every day. Every fall-ooping day (pardon the language) at 10:30, I would take my break in the designated Target break room.

Contrary to popular belief, the Target employee break room is not a pastel gorged romper-room filled with 25 cent mechanical ponies and curtained photo booths to make out in. You would think there would be at least some giant darts to toss around at all the red circles, but there's not.

No, the Target employee break room is basically a room with some tables and a hanging television that plays a single station: the Target music station.

Come on Barbie, Let's go party

I'd rather not.

Target music television essentially looped the same videos over and over. My break began promptly at 10:30. Barbie Girl started at 10:35 and lasted until approximately 10:38. Every day.

I worked at Target for six months and this music loop did not change during that entire time.

T'was, my own... living... hell.

You can touch, you can play
You can say I'm always yours, Oooh Whoa

The Target break room television sat approximately 14 feet off the ground. A hard shoe toss at the screen proved futile after the third try. I tried dragging a table to the site of the television, but was still unable to reach the volume because there was no volume; nor was there an on and off switch. There was nothing - just Aqua and Barbie and me.

Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please
I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees
Come jump in, be my friend, let us do it again

Hit the town, fool around, let's go party

It's like the lyrics have been scalded onto my brain with one of those fiery hot poker things that they use on cow behinds. (I forget the technical name.)

Every time I step into a Target - that tune, those lyrics, that living purgatory - immediately enters my mind. I only wish I could discard it, head-vomit it out of my ears, let it ooze out of my nose; yet it lingers, reminding me of those many hours we spent together so long ago.

And that, my dear friends, is how I became a Barbie Girl - made of plastic, it was fantastic.

I shall never escape her wrath.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Introducing Disney's new Man Fairy. I mean, "Sparrow Boy".

Disney recently announced plans for a male version of Tinkerbell named "Slate". Feel free to read about it here. Slate is Disney's first ever male Pixie and is bound to be a huge hit. Being the lone boy Pixie was bound to be difficult and Slate had some very difficult moments in high school, including this one in the High School locker room:

Peter Pan: Dude, what is with all the glitter all over your towel?

Slate: Oh, that? It's not mine. That's from my girlfriend's mascara.

Peter Pan: Riiiight.

Slate: Serious Pan.

Peter Pan: Well, why are you always tucking your wings? What are you trying to hide?

Slate: Nothing. I just like them that way. It's sleek.

Lost Boy: Come on Slate, we all know you're really a fairy. Just admit it.


Peter Pan: It's okay to admit it Slate. This is 2006 after all.

Slate: First of all, we prefer the name "Sparrow Boy" and secondly, fairies are not built like this!

Lost Boy: Whatever, fairy.

Peter Pan: Now, be nice. If he wants to be known as a Sparrow Boy, that's what we'll refer to him as. Is that okay with you fairy? I mean Sparrow Boy?

Slate: Come on guys, knock it off!

Lost Boy: LOOK, the fairy is crying. Look at all that sparkly dust falling out of his eyes. FAIRY IS CRYING... FAIRY IS CRYING!

Slate: I said SHUT UP GUYS! Leave me alone!

[Runs out of the room crying.]

Lost boy: That dude is such a fairy.

Peter Pan: Tell me about it! Now where did I put my green tights?

Lost boy: I don't know Pan. Have you seen my bunny outfit?

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Why are Girl Scout Cookies only available once a year?

This is one of those things I watch and think, "Oh, why didn't I think of writing that?!" Kudos to you SNL, you beat me to the punch this time, but I'll be back.

This is hilarious stuff.