Dearest Blog O' Cheese readers...

Dear Cheese Blog Enthusiasts,

I hereby decree that the Blog O' Cheese shall not be updated for a period of one month. The reasons are thrice:

1. I feel that the blogging quality has severely lacked recently. I mean, I wrote 6 paragraphs on my jammie pants for heaven's sake! I need some time to recharge creatively.

2. I am spending way too much time online. I also want to see if I will miss blogging. I feel like it is going to be a sacrifice and very difficult for me to do - but I feel that I must do it.

3. I want to rethink why I am blogging. What is it that I am after? I enjoy entertaining, but perhaps I should be using my writing differently?

Well, one more...

4. Going along with the above... I want to work on some other projects. I want to see if they are as satisfying.

Thus, I shall return on November 5, 2009 and I will describe in detail the future of the blog (if there is a future).

Your comments will be taken into account, so please express your thoughts and feelings about the cheese blog in the comments.

Until November 5...

Farewell

Ode to my jammie Pants

Oh jammie pants, how I love you. You are the wind beneath my wings. (Also, sometimes you are the wings outside my wind, if you know what I mean?? Huh, huh?)

I still remember the first time I saw you - laying there on my father-in-law's couch. He had picked you up from the D.I. What kind of fool would leave you behind? Probably some fancy lad like that awful David Osmond or that guy that wears the sunglasses and talks all saucy on CSI: Miami. I hate that guy, but I will happily sleep in his old jammie pants... what an idiot.

It was almost like you winked at me that night lying there on that couch. Winked at me with your fly. When I put you on, it was like stepping into a warm cottage; not like a yuppie cottage in Caramel either. More like a cottage made for hobbits in the Shire - but without the low hanging ceiling fans.

Your elastic waste-band is not too tight. In fact, I think you were designed for a fat man, but I like you just the way you are. I am not at all judgmental of your size. If you wanted to diet or workout a little, I wouldn't stop you, but I would also not encourage you. Dieting is a personal choice and I really wouldn't want to pressure you one way or another. Unless of course, you were to ask me my opinion - I would advise you to start drinking diet soda and to lay off the bread already.

I apologize if I never tie your ties. I like to be able to scratch at will. Sometimes I get an itch. Don't take it personally - you have very nice ties. Sometimes, if there is company over (I like to look nice for company), I might tie the ties. But only if the company tie worthy. I am not tying the ties for the eight year old neighbor boy or for my the home teachers. Sorry guys, you are just not tie worthy. (If the home teacher happens to be in the Stake Presidency, I may tie)

Your checkers keep me in check. Your stripes are so stripy, your flannel so flannely. Your free flowing cotton flows like a model's hair blowing in a fan induced wind. You never stick, pull or most importantly, wedge. You start to wedge and I drop you like BYU sweatpants. You are on warning.

Jammy pants - I love thee.

Saturday Graph: My Son Calder's Annoyance Cycle (AKA - The past week of my life watching my two adorable neices)

My reply to Utah Woolen Mills reply... sent today at 3:00 PM:

My reply to Utah Woolen Mills reply... sent today at 3:00 PM:

Thank you so much for your quick reply. I look forward to visiting your fine establishment soon. In the meantime, you may get a general idea of my proportions from the sketch I have attached. FYI: This picture was drawn of me a few years ago while I was on the San Fran wharf. I was a real heavy smoker back then and hadn't yet turned my life around. I would appreciate it if you held our condescending comments to yourself.

Again, thank you for your time.

Abraham Joske

Utah Woolen Mills returns my email...

Wow, that was fast! Just got the below reply from Utah Woolen Mills. Can't say they don't offer great customer service:

Mr. Joske
We would have to see you before we could say yes. Please come to our store.
Thank you,
BJ

FYI - Please read the below post for this to make sense.

My email to Utah Woolen Mills

I sent the following email to Utah Woolen Mills (customerservice@utahwoolenmills.com) today at 2:30 PM. If/when I get a reply, I will post it immediately.

Hello, My name is Abraham Joske and I have recently been put in my ward's Bishopric (2nd councilor to the Bishop, 3rd in command). They have told me that this calling requires me to wear a suit.

I've always wanted a suit, but due to years of improper arm workouts, I have a strange condition in which my forearms are thicker than my biceps. In fact, my forearms are roughly the same size as my thighs. (I do not have large or small thighs. I'd say they are average sized thighs for a man. Maybe 18 inches in diameter each) Thus, finding a suit that fits my strange proportions has become a bit of a challenge.

If I come in for a measuring, is it possible to custom make a suit for a man with exceptionally large forearms? I am willing to pay whatever the cost. (My Bishop has very kindly offered to pay half. He owns a large welding corporation and is rather wealthy. They are looking to expand into Idaho!)

I have emailed Mr. Mac and they either refuse to reply or are unwilling to work with a special needs case.

Also, is your wool homegrown or imported? I'd like to buy local, but I realize the quality of sheep in Utah is lacking.

Thank you kindly for your time,

Abraham Joske

Why women find gaudy, flamboyant teenaged vampires attractive.

Why are women so intrigued with effeminate, pale skinned, scrawny-butted vampires?

I know I have written about Twilight before (you may read that post here), but I felt this continuing vampire phenomenon needed a follow up post.

I thought Twilight signified the end of this inane, maudlin fetish women have. I thought wrong. Apparently, there are even more sappy vampire chronicles out there that the lady-folk are inhaling it like it is potpourri scented marijuana wrapped in Bonbons that they purchased at their BFF's Lia Sofia party.

When I was a kid, vampires were ludicrously cool. They lived in tall towers and preyed on the weak. They wore long cloaks and slept in a coffin. Back then, being a vampire for Halloween was killer-cool. You dress like a vampire today and you are just begging to be pounded in the torso after school. Today vampires are the weak, or at least they are albinos, which is just another way of saying they are weak.

Somewhere in the year 2003, vampire-ism merged with emo-ism which had previously merged with a combination of goth-ism and grunge-ism. It is now 2009 and after all these subcultures have merged, pop culture has left us with this: the sissy-faced, pussyfooted eighteen year old vampire man-boy that women love.

Why do women love these freakishly white faced, juvenile, fanged lady-men? Clearly, these pubescent vampire boys must be doing something right to garner all this pent up sexual energy from females aged 12 - 65. I have several theories why women are going gaga over Edward...

1. Apparently, boy vampires have begun to keep diaries. DIARIES! They don't even bother calling them journals. What kind of vampire keeps a diary anyway? Is it a Hello Kitty diary or a My Little Pony? Does it come with a plastic key with a ribbon tied to it?

Women love men that pretend to keep diaries. What's next... "The Vampire Blogs"?! Do they make cute vampire backgrounds on that "Cutest Blog on the Block" site?

2. Male vampires secretly have shiny skin which 50% of women secretly wish their spouse had. This is a strange phenomenon since women are generally not attracted to rainbow trout.

3. Today's version of the male vampire can be thoughtful and considerate, which completely spits in the face of the legend and history of the vampire.

4. Sexy vampire man-boys are always accompanied by swoopy, saucy, cheese music that conjures up memories of their lost highschool crushes.

5. Unlike most guys, vampires guys are interested settling down and starting a family. Well, either that or killing you. Vampires aren't into playing games and they will never ignore you to answer their cell phone.

Fortunately, my wife has no shrouded desire for me to become a vampire. I am not sure if she has a jaded dating past with vampires, but luckily, fangs and pale faces are not attractive to her.

Lincoln's day at school. (Not for the faint of stomached)

I had the following conversation with my seven year old son Lincoln yesterday...

Abe: How was your day at school today?

Lincoln: Good, but the GROSSEST thing happened.

Abe: What would that be?

Lincoln: We had to switch seats and get into groups. I had to sit in this slobbery girl named Betty's seat. (Actual name has been changed to protect the slobbery)

Abe: Oh yeah?

Lincoln: Yeah, and I put my hand under her chair to move it and when I lifted it up I had the biggest, longest, slimiest, grossest booger I have ever seen on it.

Abe: OH YUCK! What did you do? Did you ask your teacher if you could wash your hands?

Lincoln: No. I just wiped my hand on my pants.

Abe: Oh yeah, well that makes sense. Did you at least put hand sanitizer on?

Lincoln: Well, not until lunchtime.

Abe: How long was that?

Lincoln: I don't know. Probably a long time.

Abe: Well, your pants probably sanitized your hand enough.

Lincoln: Yeah, probably.

(Pants have since been decontaminated, sanitized and thoroughly cleaned. Still no sign of the swine flu)

Song of the Day: The Rural Alberta Advantage - Don't Haunt This Place

I just checked my iPod play count, and amazingly, I have listened to this song 28 times in three days. This is a great new band from Canada (I'm not sure what part) and their new album is addictive. In fact, this being the most addictive song on the album, I would recommend bypassing this one. I'd hate to be responsible for a bunch of addicts.

Cheeseboy's Rules for Healthy Living (How to live to 114)

About a week ago I saw in the Yahoo news feed that a man had lived to be 113 years old. "Not bad" I thought as I gracefully wiped the mayonnaise from the corner of my mouth. "But I will do you one better. I am on my way to 114!" (114 is one better than 113 in the base 10 model of counting)

I had to see a picture of this guy (hopefully a picture of him alive) so I clicked on the link and read the story. Of course, this wrinkled old guy had provided a short list of secrets of a long life. I was slightly disappointed to hear his "secrets": eat a lot of fruit and wake up early.

Eat fruit and wake up early? Why I eat two pieces of fruit a week easy. And sometimes I get up as early as 7:15 in the morning. Those aren't secrets - they are common sensible items that most morons do in their sleep. (I know a lot of morons that eat fruit in their sleep. Well, not a lot, but at least two)

I may be only 33 years old, however, like I said, I fully plan on living to 114. I know that 114 is not going to come easy, but I do have a set of secrets of my own. (They do not include eating fruit and waking up early. Those lame secrets will only get you to a pathetic 113) I will only be giving you eight of my secrets. The rest will cost you $29.99 that you make in three easy payments.

Cheeseboy's Rules for Healthy Living

1. Take a run every night of at least 4 miles. Ensure rehydration by drinking 32 ounces of Diet Mt. Dew. (It replenishes the soul as well as the joints)

2. Eat at least once a week at a Greek fast food joint such as Apollo or Crown Burger. This is God's health food and will keep the pounds off. (Most people don't know this but God is Greek. How else are those burgers so darned tasty?)

3. Always park as close to the door as possible. Why waste away your muscles when you don't have to?

4. Maintain a body mass that is consistently 10 pounds over weight. This will always give you motivation to work it off. If you maintain a healthy weight you lose your motivation to maintain a healthy weight. Makes perfect sense.

5. Never smoke. However, occasionally inhaling the second hand smoke from the expensive, sweet smelling cigars from the next door neighbor is fine.

6. In order to keep a youthful complexion, never shave on vacations longer than two days. This exfoliates and lifts germs through the hair pores and refreshes your skin. At least that is what I tell myself.

7. To stay young, always shop in the youth section of Mervyns. I've tried shopping in the adult section and the clothes are so old mannish.

8. Always eat dinner before 4:30 PM. I recently visited my Grandma in her old folks home and she invited us to dinner. There wasn't a single person left in the cafeteria after 4:30. These people are OLD. They must be doing something right, and that thing right is eating dinner about an hour after I eat lunch.

Too many danged kids!

AHHH! There are toys and shoes and blankets thrown everywhere like that long, stringy stuff that falls after a Jazz game win. (I forget the technical jargon for that stuff) The doors are being left open, my toilet is working overtime and I don't have a place to sit on my own couch.

There is a reason we have two kids and two kids only.

[Think: New TV, new TV, new TV]

The screaming, the squealing, the maniacal romping through the house like they are chasing cattle. A man can only take so much chaos. I am not quite sure what the chaos theory is, but I am sure the guy that came up with has at least 4 kids under the age of 7.

[Close eyes. Think of new television]

My 3 year old son screams like a girl. A 3 year old girl screams like a house cat being skinned alive by a thousand scorpions. A house cat being skinned alive by a thousand scorpions sounds a lot like... well, a 3 year old girl's scream. It all goes full circle here on the cheese blog.

[Deep breaths. Close eyes. Think: HD will look so nice on the wall of my living room]

We are watching my two nieces for a week. Only 6 days and 10 hours until their triumphant return. (I am not anal enough to count minutes, but if I were, the minute number would be 27)

Here's the deal: We watch these 2 cute little girls for 9 days and - in return I get a 40+ inch television. Okay, they are not giving me a television - rather, they are paying us enough money to buy a television. The money we earn will be spent toward a beautiful television set. They will pay us some money and we in turn, will take that money and purchase a television.

[Television set seems so close now. I really need to talk about this TV thing more]

Stop screaming! Stop running! Stop fighting! Calder - just give her the stinking toy so she will stop squealing!

[I think that the first thing I watch on my new HD television will be something like the Discovery channel's "Earth". Either that or "The Biggest Loser". All that sweaty blubber in HD sounds intriguing. I haven't really decided though]

How in the world do people have so many darned kids? My 2 kids get along great, but there are still times they just annoy each other to no end. I can't fathom adding more kids to the equation, especially ones that do not get along. Actually, I can fathom it; I am living it as we speak. Living it sucks worse than just attempting to fathom it.

"I neeed a drink." "Can I have a treat?" "I'm hungry." "Calder's not sharing."

[I need to measure that wall. Make sure it is a perfect fit. Probably is... but I should still measure it]

The thing is, if it were just me, I'd probably just say no. I know, I know - it's a new TV. But really, the wacky thing is I like my old TV. My TV has been my trustworthy friend for almost ten years now. I've never had a problem with it.

[WHAT AM I SAYING?! We are talking about a new TV - HD, flat panel, pixelations, high-tech standardized equipments, THE WORKS! No, it will be worth it. Just keep telling yourself that]

I think I need to work late for the next few nights. I may actually attend the UEA conference this year. I think the Bishop needs me over at the ward this week. I've got stuff going on. Important stuff.

Saturday Graph: Abe's belly after an evening at the Olive Garden.

Song of the Day: Manchester Orchestra - I've Got Friends

This song is rip-roaring fun. Makes you want to get up and dance, then tear a phone book and then pulling out all the hair out of a Ken Doll. It's just that good. These guys are from Atlanta Georgia and have some very happenin ' stuff. I apologize, the embeddedness of the actual video has been disabled. However, if you are really interested, you can watch it here.

My swine flu vaccination is lost in the mail.

I've got two weeks to survive. Well, two weeks plus the customary two week incubation period for the virus to take hold within my system, lodge in my heart and then kill me in cold blood.

I am a little scared of getting the swine flu.

Fortunately, we are pretty well connected when it comes to the immunization industry. Let's just say we know a guy who knows a guy who knows a girl. Fortunately, we also know that girl, so we don't have to go through the guy and then the other guy. They are just guys she knows too.

For whatever reason, our girl with the goods can't get the goods until the beginning of October. This is a very frustrating problem for a hypochondriac. Apparently there is some sort of missing link in the supply chain, probably with Larry who tends to hoard vaccines and use them on his pet monkeys.

Larry, if I die because your monkeys got immunized before I do, I will personally visit you and your monkeys at your house and they will be traveling with me to monkey heaven.

I don't want to go to monkey heaven, but I will if it means killing your monkeys because they stole my swine flu vaccination.

I don't make idle threats! When I make my threats, I am usually doing something very active, like dancing or yelling at people poking me with swords. For instance: right now, I am making this threat while typing angrily on my computer. That is not an idle threat.

In the mean time, I will wait for my immunization patiently; hoping that I do not contract a deadly virus. If you happen to have swine flu, will you please stop trying to kiss me? (That goes for you too, Megan Fox)

Real life stories of Murray Househusbands.

I've debated on whether or not I should be posting the highly confidential enigmas of an American Househusband. I then thought about what I am about to write and it occurred to me: I am sure that most wives already know our secrets and suffer with them for fear that we may go to more football games or spend more time on the couch. Further, when I debate myself, I very often win. Or, I should say, I win more often than when I debate my wife, which is virtually zero percent of the time.

Here is the deal: When we men are responsible for the kids, we do things our way... which is to say - we do things the way we would normally do them if we were not constantly being scrutinized by our wives.

{Shhhhh! Don't let the ladies know.}

Tonight I had full rein of the house. Here was what was on the agenda:

I mowed the lawn, which I did without being asked or persuaded. Calder helped by pushing his little plastic lawn mower behind me, catching any spots I may have missed. This was the highlight of my chivalry husbandry for the evening. Time to get break out the "World's Greatest Husband" mug I got for Father's Day.

It was then inside for a some Root Beers and pizza. Normally, we would split a Root Beer, but tonight was a special occasion! Everyone gets their own Root Beer! I am the coolest dad on the block. No dad gives their 3 and 7 year old sons full-on Root Beers, do they?! And these were the bottled Root Beers. Someone could have sliced a finger open... and seriously, does a 3 year old really need 12 ounces of liquefied sugar and bubbles in a glass bottle?

After pizza and Root Beer, it was to the couch for some father/son/Wipeout bonding time. We cooked up some extra-buttered popcorn, which we ensured was spread evenly throughout the floor. (It is a little known fact that microwave popcorn grease-butter works wonders on hardwood floors. However, it is also a well known fact that too much microwave popcorn grease-butter can also cause cancer and death. This is why I never roll around on our floors with my shirt off after spilling popcorn on our floors)

My wife returned before bedtime, but I normally let them stay up a little later when she's not around. Sometimes I allow the boys to jump around the front room to loud music, most of which is curse-word free.

Occasionally, we play with pocket knives and fire... but never together... that would just be dangerous and irresponsible.

Why do we men do this? Well, really it can be narrowed down to two reasons: 1. A need to be considered the cool parent. 2. Pure laziness.

My mom claims that when my dad would watch us and there was a poopy diaper involved, my dad would put the pooped up child in the bathtub and await the return of my mom to clean up the mess. I'm not sure that this is actually true, but some of my earliest memories are of sitting in a waterless bathtub, waiting for my mom to get home.

There you have it ladies. You now know our little secret. But look - take it easy on us - we're men. Further, when you come home, your kids are happy, healthy and safe. FYI: Just don't slip on the buttery floor.