Kids just don't eat their bread crusts nowadays - expect an outbreak of blindness soon!

When I was a kid, I remember my mom frequently telling me,"DON'T STAND SO CLOSE TO THE TV - YOU'LL GO BLIND!"  Of course, I was not worried because she also told me that if I ate my bread crust, I would never go blind.  I figured that if I sat too close to the TV and then ate enough bread crust, I would be perfectly fine.  It all made perfect sense.

I'm a bit concerned though.  My two little runts don't eat a single shred of bread crust and they both love to stand inches away from the TV.   Both of them will often become transfixed by the TV, spellbound by the moving pictures.  Each time we have witnessed this occurrence, it is like an alien suckerfish molded through our ceiling and slurped out their brains.  There they stand, head lifted, mouth open, eyes unblinking, drool dripping - mindlessly engulfed in Spongebob, Dora or whatever moony, doltish program may be on at the time.  

What is most mind-boggling is that I will sometimes even catch them in a tubed-up, standing trance while watching something completely out of the norm; something like an infomercial or a Hannah Montana music video. I then become my mother.  "YOU ARE STANDING WAY TOO CLOSE TO THE TV!" I find myself calling out, time and time again.  Only this time I add, "YOU ARE STANDING WAY TOO CLOSE TO THE TV AND YOU WILL NEVER EAT ANY BREAD CRUST!"  Maybe I worry too much.

Of course, we all know that other things we do as children cause blindness: looking at the sun, not eating carrots, looking at Playboys, sticking a pointed stick in your eye.  Yet, here we are, a million plus Generation X'ers, and the only blind one amongst us seems to be a semi-talented guy on American Idol.  Either these are just myths or we ate more bread crusts than we thought.

By the way, my Grandma also told me that eating bread crust would also make my hair go curly.  I know this is definitely true because the more I ate bread crust growing up, the curlier my chest hair got.  Now it's like a Little Orphan Annie donated to "Locks of Love" and the recipient was my chest.

A Stupid Blogging Award

How come it seems that every blog I go to, the blog has won this stupid award from some website that thinks they are the ultimate authority when it comes to overall cuteness of blogs:

Now, I'm no blogging pro, or actually I like to think I am, but how on earth can EVERY blog win this award?  Doesn't that make the award a little meaningless for all the winners? And how does this website have time to visit EVERY blog and place the award in the corner?  Further, how do they know it is the cutest blog on the block?  Are they checking Google Earth and then cross checking it with registered blogs?  So pathetic.  I hope I never win this award.

Cheeseboy's Five Essential Life Spices for Blessed Bliss (Only $19.99)

Just as Steven R. Covey came out with his 7 Habits of Highly Successful Richyness and and Barney Meltzer released Ten Rules of High Performance Living  - I, Cheeseboy, have plotted my own set of guidelines to acquire a lifetime worth of money and glee.   I simply call it: Cheeseboy's Five Essential Life Spices for Blessed Bliss.  Followers of my plan need to simply add five essential spicy traits to their everyday life and they will soon be happy and rich beyond their wildest imaginations.  By purchasing my book for $19.99 (not really a book, more like a pamphlet - an extravagant, highly useful pamphlet), readers will learn the 5 essential "spices" of life.  Including:

1. Poshness (Refinement and high heeled footwear)

2. Scariness (An aggressive attitude and voluminously curly hair)

3. Baby-ness (Youthfulness, innocence, energy and pigtails)

4. Sportiness (Toughness, competitiveness and a tight fitting tracksuit)

5. Gingerness (Liveliness, zest and flaming red hair)

The pamphlet contains vital directions on how to add these sweet, saucy spices and succeed in life.  Examples of instruction include:

• How to marry a famous soccer player.
• How to get people to tell you what you want, what you really, really want.
• How to get with my friends.
• How to zig-a-zig ha.
• How to spice up your life. 
• How to give everything that joy can bring, yes I swear.
• How to gain popularity, fame and fortune with very little talent.
• How to obtain Girl (or Boy) Power. 

I for one, have begun sprinkling a little ginger spice into my morning routine and I have found that my zest appeal has shot through the roof.  At night, I shake a little Sporty Spice on my salad and I find myself wanting to fistfight passersby.  Before I go to bed, I take a Scary Spice capsule and when I wake up, I have to straighten my hair.

Everyday, people on the street come up to me and ask, "Cheeseboy, you are filled with such vigor and joy.  What's your secret?"  I explain that they can read it all in my new book-phlet for an easy $19.99.  These British chicks tried my program and just look how happy they are!

Call now and I will even throw in a CDR copy of Spice motivational tunes for you to enjoy while running on the treadmill or eating a loaf of bread. So call now!

A Lincoln & Calder original duet - "Called To Serve"

Be sure to stay tuned to the very end for Calder's Grand Finale!

Sick husbands are worthless pigs!

Being sick suits me well.  I should rephrase; I sometimes enjoy being sick.  The sitting around, the laziness and the added attention I get almost - almost, makes it all worthwhile.

Granted, I say this as I sit on our couch, my head pounding from a sinus headache and mucous entrenched to the inside of my throat like small, green leeches attached to the bare back of a boy.  I have, for once, the perfect excuse to sit on the couch all day and have Cathi wait on me.  If only I could find that service bell...

Unfortunately, a complication has arisen in my grand, sick scheme to garner attention and empathy from my beloved wife: She got sick first. Ugh.  The dreaded curse of the "wife gets sick first" strikes again.  Under normal circumstances, I obtain the dreaded malady first, thus forcing Cathi to fetch me treats and mugs full of liquid sugar, while I wipe my nose and toss the tissues on the floor for her to clean up later.      

Evidently, using an illness as a way to garner spousal attention is not an unusual behavior for most men to display in times of need.  As a man that works with many women - most of which are married - I am privy to many faculty room conversations in which said women denigrate and ruthlessly grumble about their husbands shortcomings and misgivings.  I have therefore heard more than a few stories about how a sick husband is about as useless as wet set of pantyhose.  

For example: "My husband said he was soooo sick yesterday.  He has a simple cold, but he made me dial the telephone for him.  He claims he was too weak to push the buttons!"  Or, "My stupid, weakling husband laid in bed last night and yelled at me to get him the remote.  The remote was at the end of his bed!  He only had a sore throat." 

Apparently I am not the only man that has caught onto this whole, "Help me honey. I'm sick and I can't move!" collusion.

Again here I sit, sick as a dog, with no one bringing me soup or asking me how I am doing. My beloved wife lived with this same congestive hell for the past week and continued to make dinner, take care of the boys and work.  Therefore, her sympathy for me has run thin as a peeled scab from Lincoln's leg.  It seems as though I am holding a pity party and I am the only one invited.  Now, could one of my readers bring me a hot bowl of soup or reach the remote for me on the floor?  I'm dying here.

Things I Have Had Trouble Opening

Calder loves markers.

He loves them - he really does.

The brief period in my life that I could have been considered "cool".

There was one point in my life that I was cool. I was 11. I say this with every ounce of humility (you will see why momentarily), I was one of the best eleven year old basketball players you would have ever seen.

Today I received in the mail a video of a basketball game that I played at this young age. I watched the entire thing in awe at my athletic ability. I counted 14 points that I scored in that game, including 12 within about five minutes to take the lead for my team. The amazing thing is that my entire team scored a total of 18 points. Needless to say, we won.

A year later, as a 12 year old, I recall scoring 35 points in a church game. I remember our team lost by about 20, but the opposing players congratulating me after the game. 35 points in one game - it may have been a high water mark on the coolness meter of my life.

About two weeks after my 35 point effort, I broke both my legs... at the same time. I was fitted with casts up to my thighs. Months later, I was fitted with casts to the knees. In all, I was out of commission for about 15 months. My basketball skills diminished and when I finally returned to action I was simply an above average player.

After a brief pause to watch a little NCAA basketball, I am looking at this post and wondering, "Why did I just write this? What was the point?" I suppose after watching myself, I felt like bragging a bit? Perhaps after watching the BYU game I was thinking my game was only 5 years prior to the last BYU tournament win? (He he!) Perhaps I was just thinking about what might have been? Perhaps I just took two nighttime cold meds and truth be told, I am not sure what it was I just wrote. Probably that last thing I just wrote.

As I watched myself run up and down the old Edgehill gym today, the strangest thing was how much I looked and moved like Lincoln. I felt like I was watching Lincoln, albeit a slightly older Lincoln , dribble pass and score. Hopefully, Lincoln never has to wear shorts up to his butt cheeks that give him a game long wedgie. I guess I was not as cool as I originally thought...

By the way, I now realize this is not my best work. However, tonight, given my fragile, sick state of mind, this is what Blog O' Cheese readers are going to get. My apologies to you and your families for the inconvenience.

Cease To Exist Order: Television Edition

I have been watching way too much TV lately. I have thus become annoyed by quite a few things I have witnessed. I therefore issue a Cease to Exist order for the following TV things:

1. Standing ovations on American Idol. Look, I know that you waited 8 months for your tickets to arrive, you have a huge crush (men and women) on Seacrest and the dorky singer just sang your favorite Kerry Underwood song, but do you really need to give a standing ovation for every performer? It makes you look like a pathetic audience. Which reminds me...

2. Booing every time an American Idol judge says anything remotely negative about any performer. They are called "judges" for a reason. They're not called "say nice things about every sucky singer people". I swear, they could put a bearded women in a swimsuit on stage, Simon would say, "I'm not all that thrilled with the beard", and the entire audience would break out in a chorus of boos.

3. Product placement on The Biggest Loser. This one has become more than annoying. Does Extra Sugar Free Gum really stop every craving? And apparently it HAS to be Extra Sugar Free. Trident just doesn't have the flavor crystals to battle the craving bug. And how much money is Subway giving NBC to have the contestants walk to one of their stores 4-5 times a season. Oh, and how can I forget how much better a choice Dannon yogurt is than ice cream. Um, riiiight... whatever Jillian says goes I guess.

4. "Sportscasters" that can't stop talking. Example: Just seconds after the Utes matchup with Arizona was announced, the two talking suits on CBS proclaimed that Arizona would pull off the upset. Really? In the 8 seconds since the matchup was made you have had time to think through the matchups and declare Arizona the winner? 8 seconds. And tell me, how many times have you seen the Utes play? That's right...once, maybe, just maybe twice.

5. The Bachelor. I'm sorry, this show has to end - and soon. Our country's women are getting progressively dumber because of this show.

6. Any show with "Kardashian" in the title. Also: any show with a Kardashian in it, a Kardashian that guests stars, a Kardashian that produces it, a Kardashian that watches it.

7. DJ Lance Rock's orange jumpsuit on Yo Gabba Gabba. Lance, it's time to mix things up a little wardrobe wise. How about a neon green jumpsuit or some nice purple velvet pajama pants? You know, something classy.

8. One final thing. I was going to order a Cease to Exist order for Paula Abdul, but honestly what would be the point?

Join Facebook cause of the causes.

Facebook wants to save the world.  Or rather, I should say Facebook members want to save the world.  

Without fail, each and every day I get a request from a fellow Facebooker, requesting that I join their "cause".   All I have to do is click "agree" and that small but meaningful act can move mountains.  In three short months on Facebook so far I have already:

Cured cancer (actual results pending)

Helped break up the BCS (results pending)

Removed Republicans from office (certainly would have not been possible without the Facebook cause I joined)

Gave a few starving African children a fighting chance (results still pending)

Kept Facebook free (results pending)

Saved the rainforests (results pending an investigation by Al Gore)

Kept fluoride in my tap water (results pending Lincoln's next dentist checkup)

Stopped Big Love from airing the temple show (apparently not enough people joined the cause - that's the only reason I can think of)

Of course, besides just joining a cause, you are invited to donate money.  Which is funny because I was recently invited to join a worthwhile Facebook cause and noticed that over 60,000 people had joined in the movement, but the grand total of cash that had been raised was $25.00.  60,000 people and $25!?  That's not even a penny per person.  I guess that tearing down the Statue of Liberty because the French gave it to us is just not as important to people as they say it is.  

I want to start a cause: "Cause to stop all Facebook causes", but as soon as I do I think that someone else will start a cause: "Cause to stop the cause to stop all Facebook causes".  And then what do I do?  

I'm really never sure what to do when I get invited to join a cause that I don't really agree with.  Like this new cause - "Put the Hogle Zoo gorilla down before she goes through much more pain."  The thing is, I like the Hogle Zoo gorilla and I think she's clearly a fighter.  I'm starting a retaliatory cause.  I'd appreciate it if you took a half second out of your day and clicked "agree" - Muke (the cancer gorilla) and I will greatly appreciate it.  (Also, if you want to donate to the cause and keep Muke alive for another month, I accept cash or money orders. (No refunds if/when Muke dies.))

2008-2009 - A great year to be a Ute!

Utah Football - MWC Champs, Sugar Bowl Champs, Only undefeated team in all of college football

Utah Basketball - MWC Champs, MWC Tournament Champs, NCAA results pending

Utah Women's Basketball - MWC Champs, MWC Tournament Champs, NCAA results pending

Utah Women's Gymnastics - Current #2 National Ranking, Nationals Pending

It's a great time to be a Ute!

[Stolen from Utefans.net]

Cheeseboy's Disneyland Top Moneymaking Schemes

The Potent Majesty that is The Samoa Cookie

The Samoa cookie.  I think that the only question that remains is: was it created by God or just one of God's right hand men - or should I say one of God's right hand girl.. scouts.

The great thing about the Samoa is that it has every food group in every cookie - dairy, fruit, grains and meat.  (They are called "Samoas" for a reason you know.)  Three cookies and you have yourself a full course meal.  You could live for a full year on 50 boxes. 

As one that is not a huge fan of coconut, I'd like to say, thank you coconut, for finally making something of your life.  You know those loser husbands that always say, "My wife makes me a better man."?  It's the same thing for the Samoa cookie - the cookie makes the coconut a better fruit.

The chocolate stripes over a hearty body is something those foolish cookie tree elves can still never master.  The cookie crisp middle makes the Twix candybar quiver with jealousy.  The caramel is mixed in the gold pots of the Caramel (by the sea) Indian Tribe of Northern California.  Each ingredient stands alone, but combined it is cookie ecstasy.

I once had a Samoan aide and I told her that I would love to visit the island - if only for all the cookies.  I imagined that the cookies were just falling from trees, or at the very least offered at the local grocers for much less than the normal $3.50 per box asking price.  I was jiggered and thunderstruck to learn that she had never even eaten a Somoa cookie before coming to the United States!  Further, when she came here and finally ate a Somoa cookie, she didn't even like them.  Blasphemy!  That would be like me not enjoying a good potato pancake or David Hasselhoff hating eating hamburgers off his living room floor.  There are just some cultures and foods that will be forever married through time and eternity.

So thank you Girl Scouts.  Thank you for standing outside Albertsons.  Thank you for bothering me in my classroom every year.  Thank you for well, just being.  I know nothing about your little legions of green clad squirts, but if anything, you are making the world a better place by providing Samoas.  

**Note:  This year, I did not receive my usual visit from the Girl Scouts after school to sell me cookies.  I was forced to stand in line outside Albertsons like the other ordinary, run-of-the-mill losers with delicious coco-coconut-caramel crisp on his mind.  When I finally reached the front, I noticed that the Samoas were gone.  Fortunately, the kindhearted 45 year old woman wearing a green beret and Girl Scout sash, reached down and grabbed the last two boxes.  My weekend was saved.  

One last thing: I think it the answer to my first question is God.  God made the Samoa cookie.  God's helpers make the Thin Mints.

Poor Hannah Montana - Will her misery ever end?

Hannah Montana [On Radiohead's refusal to meet her at the Grammies]: 
"I'm like, these are the people I really want to meet," she said. "I'd freak out. They're my rock gods. These are the only people that I would cry over…My manager asked and said, 'Miley's really obsessed. And they were like, 'We don't really do that.' "

Radiohead: 

"When Miley grows up, she'll learn not to have such a sense of entitlement."

He he he.  Poor, poor Miley will just have to go back to making her "music", posing nearly nude for magazines with her dad, going out with 21 year old men that are committing a felony by dating her and then selling out Provo's "Stadium of Fire" because she is "wholesome entertainment". 

BACON! by Jim Gaffigan

A little preview Jim uploaded today of his new special. All about delicious bacon.