Barttimesnow

Souper Guy and Kami: Part One

2012-02-04T21:02:00.000-08:00

Some people say the story of one’s birth predetermines the story of one’s life. In my case, I would say that’s accurate… more or less. I was born three months premature. The doctor that helped my mother during her pregnancy explained that I came early simply because I didn’t want to wait anymore. So I paid a few debts, called in a few favors and made things happen. Not only is the survival rate for premature babies extremely low, it is extremely disheartening. Not only does it tug at your heart strings because its sad, it also damages your heart because its not developed enough. I had surgery on my heart as an infant… and then punched that survival rate in the face. I weighed two pounds two ounces soaking wet. (And yes, I’m pretty sure I was wet.) That’s the same size as a hero sandwich that you could find in any big city, like New Orleans or Boston. Coincidence? I think not. You see, I was a super hero once.

I grew up in the ranching world of Wyoming, where manual labor and love of the slow life is a requirement, not a preference. I also grew up in a world that wanted to conceal certain identities. Superman, Batman and other super heroes lived their daily lives as normal, law abiding citizens, but masqueraded at night as crime-fighting , damsel-saving vigilantes. (I never understood why the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tried to conceal who they really were. You’re a giant turtle. A small colored cloth around your eyes isn’t going to make me know its you any less than I already do.) Like I said, I never understood the reasons for safeguarding their identity… until one day.

I was homeless and looking for a place to stay. (Because of that experience there are two things that I will never be cheap about: laundry detergent and toilet paper. I pay top dollar for top brands.) I saw some people lining up outside an old abandoned warehouse, so I got in line too. I was hungry and thought it was a soup kitchen. I tried to make chit chat with a guy in an Armani suit. His presence alone should have alerted my brain that this wasn’t a line for people who wanted soup. But, I remind you, I was hungry, and who am I to judge some guy in an Armani suit? The line moved slowly, as if there was no rush to feed my starving stomach. I hadn’t eaten in 72 days, which I now realize was more like 2 hours because some guy gave me the rest of his half eaten Cliff bar, but either way, my stomach was so hungry. Armani and I finally made our way into the large, gymnasium-like room only to find it mostly empty. There were a few long tables with two or three individuals seated at them. There was a sign that said, “Please wait here until called.” They finally called Armani to come forward and I finally got a good look at what was on the tables: a piece of paper. Where was the soup? I was not going to debase myself and eat a piece of paper… again. I turned to leave but was quickly interrupted. “Excuse me, Sir,” stated the lady at the table. “You can come forward now.” I paused for a second, wondering if the garbage can behind McDonald’s was rat free again, but then shrugged my soldiers, turned, and slowly stepped towards the table.

Armani had disappeared somewhere and I couldn’t help but think that he and the soup were in the other room. ‘Maybe they’re just taking orders,’ I thought. “Broccoli and cheese,” I stated matter-of-factly. “And make it quick,” I added. “Excuse me?” said the lady in French. (I knew French because I once read Napoleon’s autobiography. I, of course, am referring to Napoleon Dynamite, the nerdy, curly red headed fictional character, not the French military and political leader during the French Revolution, Napoleon Bonaparte. Apparently, Napoleon Dynamite’s book sold out in like two hours so all they had left was a copy in French.) “Broccoli and cheese… please?” I repeated. The fake French lady and the two gentlemen briefly looked at each other and chuckled. The lady took out a small note card and scribbled something on it. She then smiled a forced smile and handed it to me. It read:

‘quick’ = super speed

cheese = super sense of humor

broccoli = green and gold

I was a little confused, to say the least, as they motioned me to exit. I walked out of the gym-like room into the brisk, autumn air. I stuck the card in my pocket and slowly walked away. That’s when I realized… I was still hungry.

Meet Anna the Elf

2011-12-06T22:59:00.001-08:00

This is Anna the Elf. University of Wyoming cheerleader, former Miss Wyoming and Miss America contestant. She dominates at Dungeons and Dragons while wearing glitter. And she's my friend. (We are friends, Anna the Elf, right? Maybe? Can you nod for me...? How about a shoulder shrug? You gotta at least give me a shoulder shrug...) Now, I know what you're thinking: "She doesn't look like an Elf." And thats exactly what an elf would want you to think. Don't let looks deceive you. She's got special elvin powers... or whatever it is elves do besides bake cookies in trees and make toys for the Bearded One up at the NP. If you have questions, maybe you should take it up with her, she would know. She's an elf.

I decided to carry on the tradition of sharing some of my GREAT conversations with you all. This one is up there among the best. Thanks, Anna. And you're welcome, Internet.

Anna Nelson: Microsoft Word, It's 4:30 in the morning. I've been up all night trying desperately to get stuff done before finals start in five and a half hours. I know that you've been up just as long and are probably just as tired, but STOP UNDERLINING WORDS IN RED WHEN THEY ARE CLEARLY SPELLED CORRECTLY. I'm cranky, I'm exhausted, and I DO NOT have the patience for your games, Word.

Bart Jamal Gadbury mind games. with a computer? I wonder who won that battle...

Anna Nelson Oh I did. My computer quickly remembered that I can viciously smash it to pieces with a hammer at any given moment and went, "You know what? You're right, Anna. I'll quit."

Bart Jamal Gadbury can't you cast spells or summon things with your elf power? I would think that would be much more terrorizing than a hammer...?

Anna Nelson Yeah, but my people are super busy making toys this time of year, and I just didn't have the time to whip up a really intimidating spell. The hammer was much closer, and still made for a pretty effective threat.

Bart Jamal Gadbury they'd better be busy. I put in a pretty big order for the Bearded One...

Anna Nelson Yeah I saw. And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this Bart, but we're not authorized to give out social lives for Christmas. No matter how many teardrop stains there are on one's Christmas List.

Bart Jamal Gadbury And here I was, planning on leaving a little extra egg nog and cookies out for the Satin Red Mammoth (aka St Nic) to share with the one and only Anna the Elf... looks like that plan is going to have to change.

Anna Nelson It's not MY fault. I didn't write the Elf Rules. If I had, we wouldn't build cookies in flammable trees or have let Orlando Bloom join our club. But as it is I have some limitations, and I'm sorry.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Why you dissin' on your Keebler Kuzins? (See what I did there? double K...) And since you aren't going to help me with my one christmas wish, I'm going to have to resort to Plan B. I'm going to have to apologize ahead of time... I'm sorry, Anna.

Anna Nelson There has been no "dissin'". I'm concerned for their safety. It's incredibly hazardous to operate a boatload of ovens inside of giant wooden structures, no matter how adorable. And I think that you're overreacting. We can still get you the Polly Pocket Dream Set that you ordered, so just calm yourself down.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Am i really overreacting? Polly Pocket was a backup, a last resort, a sub. (A rather excellent last resort, I might add.) But thats beside the point. If I don't have my Social Life neatly wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper sitting under my tree on Christmas morning, I'm afraid it will be the end of your illustrious career at NP. (That's hipster street lingo for the 'North Pole'.)

Anna Nelson Is that a threat, Mr. Gadbury? Because keep it up and I'll cancel your Polly Pocket order. I'll do it right now.

Bart Jamal Gadbury A threat? I don't give out threats. The only thing I give out are warnings... and promises... and promise rings, ring pops, the occasional stick of gum, and hot tips on the latest catwalk fashions... you're treading on very thin ice, Anna the Elf... and i don't care if the NP Weather Bug says you're actually standing on a glacier thats millions of feet thick. (My ice metaphor is figurative, and its very thin.)

Anna Nelson When were you giving out ring pops and gum, and why was I not invited to THAT party? I don't think you wanna starting something with an elf. I'll take you out with my "Sly Flourish." I'm only allowed to use that once apparently, but once will be enough.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Yeah, but how are you going to use it on me when you're banished to the Island of Misfit Toys. That's right Anna. This is what's going to happen. You're gonna break your little Elf Rules (they're little because they pertain to elves, obviously) and get me my Social Life or else I'm going to take that hammer that you should have used on your computer and smash your tiny little elvin hand. Once Magical White Beard (also St. Nic) sees you falling behind in toy production. He's going to exile you to the Island of Misfit Toys, you will be known as "Elvinus Rejectus" (latin term) and your banishment will last through 7 eternities.

Anna Nelson You would really break a little elf's hand and banish it to a faraway island just because she couldn't build you friends? Real mature, Bart. REAL MATURE.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Excuse me, did I say I was done????? Why does Mr. Rosy McFats Hats (yeah, still St Nic) send misfit elves to the Island of MIsfit Toys? The misfit elf then has to work on the misfit toys forever, never able to fix them. The physical exile is bad enough, but the psychological torment of never amounting to anything is a snowflakey hell. (I tried to winterize hell for you to make it less intimidating for you. Snowflakey at least made it cuter.) Aaaaaand.... now I'm done.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Plus you'll have a broken hand.

Anna Nelson You really think that SANTA CLAUSE (see me using his real name? Yeah, he'll remember that later) would do something like that to me, his favorite elf? The Island of Misfit Toys is reserved for bad elves who do things like move Frosty into the sun while he's sleeping or accept bribes for switching kids to the Nice List (which is why SANTA CLAUSE has to check it twice, incidentally). I'm in the clear. You'll break my hand, but hands heal. Just take your Polly Pocket and be grateful.

Bart Jamal Gadbury Hands may heal, Anna the Elf, but hearts don't. And you just broke mine.

Anna Nelson Hey man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you immature. And threatened to obliterate you with my Sly Flourish (which was never really that big of a deal, since I don't know how to use it anyway). If I could build you friends, I totally would. But sometimes things just aren't meant to be, and we need to learn how to be okay with those things and move on with our lives.

Bart Jamal Gadbury by 'moving on with our lives' do you mean 'posting this entire conversation to your blog'... because thats whats happening. Right now.

Is the NBA going to play in 2012?

2011-12-01T08:13:00.001-08:00

All Hallow's Eve

2011-10-31T10:24:00.000-07:00

A lot of people have mixed feelings about Halloween. I don't. Here's why:

I make my own costumes.

Halloween 2009

The Burger King and his minions. (Yes, Emily, I'm wearing tights.) And yes, we did go to BK.

Día de los Muertos 2010

Hot Rod and his crew: Nacho Libre (one of the greatest costumes of all time) and ol' man Willie.

All Hallow's Eve 2011

And the latest installment: Chuck. If you haven't seen the show, I recommend you do.

And a clip from one of my favorite shows:

Happy Halloween!

Calling All Cops and Autobots

2011-10-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

Um... if you don't know what this is... just read it... it's 25 random things that came to my head... I then sent it to some people I thought would actually read it. So leave a comment, or don't. But if you leave one, I'll like you more.

1. I was really shy growing up… I still am in certain situations. I just fake that I’m not.

2. I use wittiness as a defense mechanism to thwart all attackers from breaching the outer wall of ME.

3. I wish I was still a kid. School was easy, I dominated at sports, girls liked me, all my meals were homemade, I saved my money to buy baseball cards.

4. My beverages of choice are: Whole milk, Gatorade, and Dr. Pepper.

5. I don’t understand a single thing about Chemistry.

6. I hardly ever remember my dreams. Really, I’m lucky if I can recall one dream per month. My most recent remembrance: I was on the Phoenix Suns playing with Steve Nash against the Dallas Mavericks and I hit the game winner over Dirk. Any surprise there?

7. I hate winter. It might be because I am the size of Nastia Luken, or because I grew up in the tundra-ed wilderness of Wyoming. The real reason? I am a normal minded person. Who in their right mind likes being cold? This hatred has driven me to several months of social hibernation.

8. I’ve been skydiving and recommend it often. I would love to go again… next time I’ll be sure to wear a helmet.

9. I already have 3 names picked out for 3 kids… now I’m just working on the twins’ names…

10. I WILL have a golden retriever, and a chocolate/yellow/black lab.

11. I hate shopping… mostly because I never have enough money to go shopping. (food/clothing/whatever) And when I do have money… I hate the fact that I have to use it to go shopping. Then, when I’m done shopping, I hate that I no longer have that money because I just used it to shop.

12. I’ve never had braces.

13. My favorite place in the world is Mallorca: an island in the Mediterranean just off the coast of Spain. I lived there for 6 months and would love to have a summer house on the coast!

14. The most I have ever weighed is 167 lbs… the least… 2 lbs 2oz…

15. My favorite band of all time is Five Iron Frenzy. They’re a ska band. I hate ska.

16. I have a gnarly scar across my left shoulder blade that extends down to the side of my ribcage. My grandparents took me on an African safari and we got a little too close to the lion cubs… just kidding… really, I was working one summer in Orange County and was learning to surf with some buddies, a shark came out of no where… no, not really… we went up into the Wyoming wilderness for Scouts and we were collecting wood to take home for the fireplace, I scaled a tree with a small hatchet while my older brother worked on a tree nearby… he chopped it down, it swung in my direction and knocked me out of my tree… I fell at least twenty feet and landed on the hatchet… yeah… that’s not true either. Do you want the real story?

17. I once pelted a girl on a bicycle with a water balloon, from at least 50 yards away, with a homemade water balloon launcher. She fell off. (Thank you Jordan) One of the greatest days of my life.

18. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

19. I went through a roller hockey phase in 6th/7th grade. Two-on-two roller hockey. I hated being goalie. I also went through a WCW wrestling phase that included choke-slamming my little brother on the trampoline and on couches. That’s not safe. Should I mention the Backstreet Boys phase? No? What about Hannah Montana?

20. I hate writing with pencils!! If I do, it HAS to be mechanical. I also HATE the feeling of cotton balls and the little squeaking sound!!! It drives me nuts!

21. I’ve always wanted to learn how to do a backflip. The one time I tried was on the beach in California and I ended up with a face full of sand.

22. I loooooove going to baseball games! Sunflower seeds, peanuts, Big League Chew, Dr. Pepper, Hot Dogs and Nachos! I can’t wait for Spring!

23. I once coached a 5th grade girls basketball team… also a women’s college basketball team… you’d think there’d be a difference in the level of talent… haha jk

24. I went to high school with a bazillion of my cousins… I wish we could hang out all the time!

25. I grew up on a Wyoming ranch!

Young the Giant

2011-09-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

How do you know a band is good? And I mean really good. Well, just listen...

You're welcome.

Why I like Facebook...

2011-08-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

Some people use Facebook to connect with old friends, to share pics with family, and/or advertise a business or service. Here is an example of why I use Facebook.

Thank you, friends, for being awesome!

Jimmer

2010-12-29T16:49:00.000-08:00

El Cuaderno

2010-10-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

“Llevo cinco días esperando esta broma de tren,” dijo José Luís sarcásticamente, casi murmurando a sí mismo.

Él llevó abrigo a pesar de que todavía hacía calor en Barcelona durante el mes de septiembre. En su mano derecha se encontraba una carpeta negra, la cual manejaba como si no quedara nada de importancia adentro. José Luís miró a su alrededor inmediato para ver si alguien se reía de la misma broma.

Veía a un ejecutivo que llevaba maletín y que miraba su reloj cada diez segundos. José Luís pensó que no había razón por hacerlo tanto. A menos que fuera un reloj cubierto con oro.

Después, José Luís se fijó en un gamberro que quizas tenía veinte años. El joven se sentaba en el suelo sucio de la Estación de Sants, apoyándose con la misma columna en que dibujaba. Llevaba una camiseta declarando en inglés que ‘Punk is not dead!’ y auriculares negros. Salía la música tan fuerte que José Luís pensó por un momento que se había entrado a la discoteca.

Por suerte, se distraía a José Luís una madre que andaba en el andén arrastrando a su niña detrás de ella como una pesada bolsa de patatas.

“Pero no quiero ir a Madrid,” protestó la niña, luchando contra las lágrimas.

“¡Irás y lo disfrutarás!,” respondió la madre, intentando terminar la conversación.

“Pero... pero...” discutió la niña, escapando con su madre del alcance del oído de José Luís.

Mientras que se alejaron de los otros pasajeros pontenciales, pasaron una esquina cubierta por las sombras y la oscuridad olvidada. Al parsarla, a lo mejor no hacían caso del hombre sentado en el banco. José Luís le veía solamente debido al reflejo de la luz del cigarrillo que incendía cuando se le daba una calada. El humo rodeaba su cara poco iluminada.

Llevaba traje azul, zapatos italianos y un sombrero bombín. José Luís veía que él sí se reía. Pero se enfrascaba en el periódico. Y a lo mejor, se reía a causa del dibujo político que salió en esa edición. José Luís sonrió al pensarlo. Realmente era tan gracioso el dibujo.

Los pensamientos de José Luís regresaron al presente cuando escuchó el silbido del tren entrando a la estación. El tren paró con fuerza y la gente en el andén se apelotonó para subir. José Luís intentó evitar chocarse con la gente que se bajaba del tren, pero fue imposible eludir a todos.

Al sentarse en su asiento asignado, se sentía que había pasado los últimos momentos como torero en una corrida de toros. Se quedó sudoroso y agotado pero por lo menos respiraba con tranquilidad.

“Me cierro los ojos brevamente,” pensó José Luís al sentir el movimiento del tren. La oscuridad parecía interminable y su mente no tenía ningun problema para perderse en las tinieblas. “Nos embarcamos en una gran adventura.”

B.T.I.

2010-08-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

Another fake episode of Bart and Dan. Why is it fake? Because the Bart and Dan TV show isn't real, thus making what really happens in our actual lives fake to the characters in Bart and Dan, and to the rest of you. So what if there are over 20 episodes stored somewhere on my hard drive? It doesn’t mean it exists.

Real or not, this is a glimpse of our life at work. Enjoy.

Somewhere in-between saving the world and answering the phone, an idea gently wrests on the furrowed brow of Daniel Criddle.

Dan: wouldn't be silly if chickens ‘barted’ instead of ‘clucked’?

baaaa...
baaaaaart
baaa.. ba. baaaaart.
baa BAAART!

Bart: Silly indeed. But what if every animal everywhere barted?

Daniel :

BAAaart-bart-bart-bart-bart. Those are the ugly ducks in Spain…
BAAAAAAAART!! That was a bear.
..... …. That was a giraffe

Bart: Giraffes have to make some sort of noise.

Daniel:

*rustling leaves noise
*long tongue slurp noise
*whacking necks together noise

Bart: ahhhh yes… who could forget the *whacking necks together noise?

Daniel: Unfortunately, none of those sound remotely like bart. … but whacking necks would probably be closest.

Bart: I guess we'll just have to kill off all the giraffes for not conforming to our new mold of animal society.

Daniel: Not necessary, they'll just think in bart.

Bart: mmmm... that almost works... and I’d rather deal with semi-conforming rebel giraffes than deal with giraffe blood. It’s sticky, and smells like burnt nose hair. The only noticeable loophole is that giraffe thoughts are indiscernible. If they decide to plot an uprising by falling back to their old giraffe thoughts... we would never know. And then... BAM. Giraffe riot. Not quite zoot suit riot. But close.

Daniel: But that's the beauty of bart thought. Once it is implemented, the simplicity of bart makes it impossible to overcome. It’s not nearly as complicated as heehaaaw or meow with their dual syllables. And oink has the terrible schwa that can make pronunciation difficult for some. Bart is just consonant vowel consonant. There is no animal code that can override that.

Bart: Yes, but moo could cause some static in bart thought... it is very easy to code and is monosyllabic... not to mention very fun to say... and even funner to think...

Daniel: True, the cows would pose a weak spot in bart think implementation, but we have the strength of all the other farm animals on our side. And we control their milking schedules.

LeFall of LeBron

2010-07-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

Dear LeBron James,

I’m not going to hate on you like all of your so-called fans around the world. Because I don’t hate you. I think you’re a great guy. I think you’re beyond talented… and to say you are gifted would be an understatement. But it’s not what people think about you that defines you, it’s the choices you make.

And you just made the biggest decision of your life.

While nearly the entire basketball world stopped for days (Phoenix, LA Lakers and OKC being the few exceptions) while it anxiously awaited your decision about free-agency to come down from atop your throne, I almost thought your reign extended beyond the NBA kingdom. I almost thought you could stop the daily doldrums of everyday life. I almost thought you might stop crime… or the war… or the oil spill. I have to admit, you had me for a second…

You see, I had forgotten about all of those things. Maybe it was your charm, your class, or even your goodness that made me think you held the world in your hands.

But then you had to go and ruin the magic. All of the drama, the theatrics, the spectacle…. It was all gone when you went to ESPN to ask them to do a special on you and your decision. You gave yourself away.

I knew instantly you were leaving Cleveland. There’s no way you would end weeks and weeks of anticipation and speculation by announcing you were ‘just staying in Cleveland’. And on live TV? Not a chance in the world. It was too late for that. You already had too much momentum behind you… too many people wondering about the possibilities, too many people looking forward to you in a different jersey.

The question was: which jersey?

Cleveland? You and I both know that if you were to stay in Cleveland, you’d never win a championship. The Cavs tried to bring in the right pieces to help their cause: Shaq and Antawn Jamison. They knew if they could get you your ring this year, you just might stay in Cleveland forever. But Cleveland fans should have known that your early second round exit from the playoffs was only the beginning of their heartbreak. They had their chance.

LA Clippers and share LA, and the Western Conference, with Kobe? Never.

New Jersey and play for the worst team while it rebuilds and wait around until it moves to Brooklyn in a couple years? Not even an after-thought.

Chicago and young, budding star DRose, with the possibility of luring Dwade or Bosh? Not when you would live every second of every day under the omnipresent shadow of the Greatest of All Time: #23.

That would leave you with two teams: the New York Knicks or the Miami Heat. Go ahead, pick one.

If you choose the Knicks, you get a max contract. Millions upon millions of dollars. You live in the Big Apple, and with your celebrity and status, I can only begin to imagine the perks of being you and living there. You are able to build your brand, and network with the top companies in the world. You begin to explore areas of your life outside of basketball.

You instantly make the Knicks a playoff team (remember they’re in the East). You pair up with Amare Stoudemire and through D’Antoni’s offensive brilliance you make the Knicks one of the most exciting teams in the NBA. You are given full control of the system and average 35-10-10 per game, the first triple double average since Oscar Robertson, to bring home your second MVP. You may not win the championship the first year, but you have a chance to sign Carmelo Anthony after next season (remember he’s from Brooklyn). And there’s no doubt to the reason why the Knicks are winning: you.

But most importantly, you resurrect one of the greatest stages in the history of basketball. You bring back the glitz and glam of Madison Square Garden. You make New York more than a baseball town again. You make the Knicks relevant again. You extend your reign by conquering one of the most prominent cities in the world.

Now, if you choose the Heat, you take a pay cut. You join forces with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh, your friends and former Team USA teammates. You probably won’t win another MVP, because you’re playing along two other superstars, but the Heat are instantly considered front-runners to win the Eastern Conference. You are title contenders.

But choosing to start a new season in Miami may also be the end of your legacy. You’re going to have to share the ball with two other players who love to have the ball in their hands. Your stats will suffer. And real legends make the big shots in crunch time. And we both know who’s going to have the ball when the game is on the line… all you’ll be able to do is watch.

And without you even knowing, the reins of the kingdom have slipped from your grasp.

Sorry, ‘Bron. You may have been the King of Cleveland, and you more than likely would have been the King of the New York. But there’s one thing that will never be under your reign… Miami. That’s Dwade’s team. That’s Dwade’s town. That’s Dwade’s world. And it looks like this year you’ll be doing nothing more than playing second or third fiddle as a servant in the real King’s court.

Sincerely,
Me

iQuote with my iQuill on Myquest

2010-07-08T09:20:00.000-07:00

Escape by the stroke of the quill will take you farther than any man-made contraption. I think Socrates said that once. Or it could have been me. Either way, someone said it... and then someone else quoted it. (That someone else might have been me as well... or, it might have been Socrates.)

Whatever your quest may be, just remember to use MIND BULLETS!

Beyond the Shadows

2010-06-29T05:40:00.000-07:00

Someone once said that the moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you’ve already stopped loving that person forever.

The feeling of uninhibited love for another, be it family, friend, or significant other, is not thought about, conjured up, or found upon the pedals of a flower. It is not produced by a factory or simulated on the big screen.

It simply exists. It flows from within.

This is the easy part. Excitement, wonder, awe, desire, intrigue, curiosity, love. You feel content when they're around, but notice when they're not. Although the feeling may course through your very being, expression of that feeling so it is understood is a much harder task.

Especially if you remember that after every flow comes its ebb.

Welcome back to earth. It's at this point of declination that a relationship is truly defined. This is the hard part. Fear, doubt, worry, regret, disregard, indifference. It requires one to come out of the shadows of normality, of regularity, and do more than they have done before.

But remember, every ebb has its flow.

...

Someone also once said, ‘The female heart is a labyrinth of subtleties, too challenging for the uncouth mind of the male racketeer.’

But, before I could process that statement, I was hopelessly dumbstruck. I was at the mercy of this creature whose words and charms I had neither means nor desire to resist. I wished that she would never stop speaking, that her voice would wrap itself around me forever, and that nothing would break the spell of that moment that belonged only to me.

Perhaps for that very reason, I adored her all the more, because of the eternal human stupidity of pursuing those who hurt us the most.

I looked at her for a few moments without saying anything. I thought about how much I wanted to lose myself in those evasive eyes. I thought about the loneliness that would take hold of me that night when I said goodbye to her, once I had run out of tricks or stories to make her stay with me any longer. I thought about how little I had to offer her and how much I wanted from her.

We embraced, and I hoped that she might feel, if just for a second, the way I felt about her at that moment.

I watched her slip inside and close the door behind her, and I turned to face the chilly, dark night… alone.

Mr. Potato Block

2010-06-14T23:31:00.000-07:00

So what do you write about when you can’t write? When you’ve been looking at a computer screen for the past 9 hours with nothing to show for it? When everything you thought to be worth writing is now rendered worthless as it is read by no one?

I’m not sure.

I have this problem every once in a while. Some people call it writers block. I’m not really sure why it’s called that. There isn’t an actual block that they pass around like hot potato to see who gets stuck with it… “Oh, Sorry Ralph (Waldo Emerson), you can’t write for about a week. It looks like the entire literary world will have to suffer through seven more days of unenlightened prose until your block is taken by someone else.’ Watch out F. Scott... you're next.

Now, I’m not claiming Ralph Waldo status… doing so might get me thrown out of many writers ‘Circles’ (If you get that joke, I tip my hat to you.)… But for some reason, the usual fluidity, the non ceasing thought process that continually flows more and more and more… so much that you’re actually laughing to yourself at the pure genius of it all, as you can hardly type fast enough to get it all down… that sweet enjoyment of putting thought after thought on paper and connecting them one at a time by daring and outlandish means… yeah… that thing… is gone.

Why? Because I’ve been thinking about what really matters to people. To me. To you. To someone reading these words right… about… NOW. …

I think I’ve learned that I can’t write about anything of importance. I’ve tried. Hard. And because most of the things that have been going on lately are important to me… I am unable to find non essential things to write about.

As much as I’d like to be able to write about what really matters, to really open up and show what’s inside… I can’t. Not even if I’m the only one to ever read what’s written.

But the ironic thing is, as I look back at the other things I’ve written, I can find a small piece of me inside the words… a vulnerable, unaltered, tell-all piece of me. And maybe I wasn’t trying to hide it, or maybe I was… either way it’s there, and I found it. Can you?

The Title is Longer Than the Post

2010-06-09T21:49:00.000-07:00

Shortest. Blogpost. Ever.

So Not hOt and Tempting

2010-04-25T09:26:00.000-07:00

Can someone please explain to me how this is attractive?

You can't, can you? ... why? Because it's SNOT!

(haha I've always wanted to use that joke)

This would be my ad campaign:

In a business world run mostly by men, climbing the executive
ladder has been almost impossible for women... until now.

Presenting... SNOT: a daring new clothing line for women.

The new 'business casual' from SNOT empowers women to push the envelope in the work place. And we're not talking about the envelope addressed to Martin Thompson and Co. that's sitting on your dimly lighted desk. We're talking about a metaphoric envelope that isn't real and carries nothing of importance inside... except for this: a note saying, 'Our clothing empowers women to wear things to work that would get men fired.' Like our new dress shorts and matching dress flip flops.

You may not be able to work like a man, but now you can dress
like a man, feel like a man, and most importantly, look like a man. A really, really ridiculous man who just got fired for wearing dress shorts.

SNOT: Sooooo Not hOt and Tempting. In stores never!

Why the Suns Can Win the Championship

2010-04-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

If dreams are more than dreams, and actually can, somehow, come true… then last night the Phoenix Suns lost to the Utah Jazz in the first game of their first round series... and I cried. Luckily, when I woke up this morning, I found out that my dreams are just dreams... and pillows make really good Kleenex.

As the playoffs are about to begin, I started to daydream about the possibilities. The Suns have been on a tear and I have felt that they can beat anyone. I started telling people that I wanted the Suns to play the Spurs, Mavericks, Lakers, and Cavs, in that order, to win the ‘Ship. ‘Why would you want the hardest road possible to win it all?’ My thinking was, to be the best you have to beat the best. …And get as many monkeys of your back as you can at the same time.

While my daydream was plausible, it was no more real than my dream last night. I now see that reality brings much higher probability for ascendancy to victory.

5. The Suns are HOT!

Best team headed to the playoffs. The Suns are 23-6 since the All-Star break. Really? Yes. Really. They’re finally getting production from Amare Stoudemire and Jason Richardson. Leandro Barbosa is finally healthy. And they are finally playing defense. Really? Yes. Really.

Big blowout wins over Denver and Utah. Getting back to back wins pushed them from 5th to 3rd, locking up home court advantage in the first round and giving them loads of confidence. And not only did they win, they won BIG. They handled both teams easily, carrying 20+ point leads throughout both games. Some of you say, no big deal. But winning a game when you need to… I’d say that’s a pretty big deal. And it’s something both Denver and Utah could not do.

4. Favorable Schedule

No back to backs. Arguably the toughest part of playing in the NBA is the scheduling. Road trips and switching time zones. Playing 5 games in 7 days. Playing on back to back nights. Older legs struggle in back to back games, just ask Steve Nash and Grant Hill, as 9 of their 28 losses during the regular season came on those second nights. Take away back to backs and you can take away a lot of losses. Luckily, they will get plenty of rest between games in the playoffs.

Portland in round one. To be honest… The Suns usually struggle against Portland. And a few weeks ago, I said that the only team we don’t want to face is Portland. They play a slow, deliberate game and have, probably, the best crowd in the NBA. (i.e. Utah and Golden State) But then, something happened. It was like Tanya Harding’s skating-ghost sprang from her skating-coffin from 1994 and took out all her frustrations on Brandon Roy’s knee. (Did you know she was a boxer in the early 2000’s?) With Roy out for the season, the Suns should easily advance to round two versus Dallas/San Antonio. (And by ‘easily’, I mean ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the Blazers steal a game… or two’. Serious. We really struggle against them.)

Dallas or San Antonio in round 2. Either way, the Suns get a chance for revenge. And what is more motivating than revenge? (See #1)

Maybe the Lakers choke against Denver. The Nuggets should have beaten the Lakers last year. This year they have a chance to prove it (if they beat Utah, of course). And if all goes according to plan… that would be a favorable matchup for Phoenix in the Western Conference finals. (PHX would have home court advantage AND an up-tempo opponent, which they prefer.)

And if the Lakers cruise right into the Western Conference Finals like they're supposed to... expect a battle of epic proportions! The Suns have normally owned the Lakers in the postseason... and most remember the Suns historic comeback after being down 3-1 in the series. Now, this is obviously not the same Lakers team... but neither are the Suns. This year, the Suns have a deeper bench, far better point guard, and history is by our side.

Anyone but the Cavs in the Finals. Really… I’m dead with seriousness.

3. Amare

Is a beast. Amare Stoudemire is averaging 26 points and 10 rebounds per game since the All-Star break. He’s in great shape and his defensive effort is steadily improving. He leads the league in points in the paint (with 1,110 or some absurd number like that). And he knocks down his free throws. No one can stop him. (And many have tried. Ask Anthony Tolliver and Kosta Koufos.)

Round 2- Dirk or Tim (remember 2005?) Amare is playing his best basketball right now, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. The Suns missed the playoffs last year after Amare was poked in the eye and missed the rest of the season with a detached retina. The two games right before that the Suns scored 140 points in BOTH games. The Suns are dangerous with a healthy Amare Stoudemire. Neither Dirk or Tim are athletic or quick enough to hang with Amare. In 2005, Amare averaged 37 points per game against Duncan in the playoffs. (Yes, the Spurs won, but Joe Johnson had a broken face.) And that was a much younger, more agile Tim Duncan.

2. Style of Play

Efficient Offense/Solid Defense. The Suns lead the league in points per game 110, FG 49.2% and 3FG 41.2% and they’re 4th in assists per game. Yes, they are their usual offensive-juggernautish selves. But more importantly, their defense has improved incredibly. They’re 6th in rebounding and 11th in blocked shots. Surprised?

Second Unit. Everyone knows about Leandro Barbosa after his 2007 Sixth Man of the Year campaign when he averaged 18 ppg off the bench. But what about the rest of these guys? Jared Dudley and Channing Frye are among the league leaders in both 3 point% and 3 pointers made. Louis Amundson has become a force in the middle, and is ranked 10th in the league in blocks per 48 minutes played at 3.00. And probably most improved is Goran Dragic. He still struggles through growing pains, but he has improved his shooting and decision making. This scrappy bunch’s job is clear. Hold the lead. But when they’re on top of their game and are actually extending the lead, you will not beat the Suns.

Chemistry. (From Bill Simmons) Wednesday night, Phoenix at Utah. If the Suns lose, they land a 4-seed and a preferable matchup with Denver (who plays an open style that favors Phoenix). If they win, they jump to a 3-seed and a tougher matchup with Portland (more size, slowdown style, great crowd). General manager Steve Kerr heads to the locker room that night thinking, "We should bench the older guys (Nash and Hill), play our subs and settle for the 4-seed." What happens? Everyone wants to play. Better yet, they're excited to play. Kerr talks it over with Alvin Gentry; they decide to go for it and end up winning by 20. In their euphoric locker room afterwards, Grant Hill tells Kerr that the Suns have better chemistry than any team he's ever played for. And he means it. … Those are the stories I need to hear about my title contenders.

1. Steve Nash

Past Playoff Pains. Steve Nash has been through a lot in recent years. In 2005, the Suns star shooting guard Joe Johnson suffered a displaced fracture of the left orbital bone in Game 2 of their second round series with Dallas. They limped into to the Western Conference Finals to take on the San Antonio Spurs. The Suns lost 4-1.

In 2006, Amare Stoudemire had knee surgery and was shut down for all but a few games of the season. A run to the Western Conference Finals ended against the Mavs.

In 2007, the Suns played the Spurs again, this time in the Semifinals. Nash's nose split in game one. A Robert Horry flagrant foul on Nash in game 4 earned him an ejection from the ballgame and caused Amaré Stoudemire and Boris Diaw to leave their seats on the bench. For his actions, Horry would be suspended for each of the next two contests in the series. STAT and Diaw were suspended for the pivotal Game 5 back in Phoenix. Without two of their primary low-post players, the Suns put on one of the gutsiest performances the game has seen in quite some time – at least for three quarters that is. They ran out of gas in the 4th quarter, lost 88-85, and eventually lost the series.

In 2008, the Tim Duncan 3 pointer. Just mentioning it makes me shake my head in disgust.

In 2009, the Suns failed to make the playoffs after losing Amare Stoudemire to a season ending eye injury.

In 2010,… please… just no more injuries and no more Duncan threes. Please.

4th MVP. First of all, look at these numbers: 16.5 PPG, 11.0 APG, 51% FG, 43% 3FG, 94% FT. Now tell me who is even close? (Maybe Chris Paul, if he hadn’t gotten injured.) Steve Nash is STILL the best point guard in the NBA. He’s led the league in assists 4 times, all after turning 30 years old. Did I mention he’s now 36? The guy is magnificent. He’s won two MVP awards (should have won a 3rd) and I could argue he’s in the top 5 this year. He makes everyone around him better. He’s the ultimate teammate and an even ultimate-er competitor.

Remember at the beginning of the year how all the haters said the Suns wouldn’t make the playoffs? Remember how all the so-called experts said the Suns were bound for the lottery or would maybe get the 8th seed? To all of you at ESPN I say, Remember how we have Steve Nash?

So, can the Suns win the Championship? You tell me.

Canadia

2010-03-31T22:21:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about this post for a really long time. I just haven’t gotten around to it. But Canadia has waited long enough… and especially all my Canadian fans. You know who you are. (I really don’t know who you are… do I actually have a Canadian fan??? Probably not if I keep calling it Canadia.)

Canada: The Great White North. The forehead of America. (I now see the difference between Canada and any stereotypical teenaged forehead… none. Craters, snow capped mountains, oil fields… I think you get the picture. And it’s not pretty.) Why dost thou haunt me in my dreams, with your fluffy white snow and ever inviting barren landscape?

Okay, so I don’t really know what is in Canada… besides lumberjacks and some silly French wannabes. But when I look at the map… I don’t see much. Except for the Hudson Bay… which is HUGE. It’s like a giant black hole in the universe, and is just about the same size. Does it seem like the Hudson Bay is a lot bigger than normal bays? Maybe it picks on the other bays… Bully of Bays. (Not to be confused with Billy Mays.)

The other thing I notice on the map are Canadian cities: Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver. But aren’t they really US cities? I mean, they’re right on the border! Did the Founding Fathers of our great nation make a mistake by not pushing the border just a little bit further north? Maybe. Did they overlook the economic or commercial potential of said cities? Possibly. Did they just throw Canada a bone? Most definitely.

In the words of the great John Adams, “We can’t take all the northern settlements… we need someone of which to make fun.”

The echo of that profound statement rings true today.

So while America was waging war for liberty and establishing a country of freedoms, our northern brother was copying Britain to establish Parliament. The first task of this most esteemed order was to establish a name for which their country would be recognized across the globe. A name that would stand for truth… a name that would strike fear into the hearts of those who heard it… a name that, when uttered, would turn blood to ice.

They tried everything. The name ‘Parantia’ was too silly. ‘Trogglehum’ was too Nordic. And ‘Larry’ just made them laugh and laugh. Parliament soon found this to be a much more serious problem than they had anticipated. How could they run a country if they couldn’t even give it a name? So amidst the laughter they decided to put the problem to rest. They decided to gather all the letters of the alphabet and put them in a long, black top hat. They would then draw, from the hat, the letters that would form the name of their great nation. This they did. “C, eh?” “N, eh?” “D, eh?”

(Man, that was a lot of work for just one measly little joke. But hey, I got to make fun of Canada, so it was so worth it!)

But while I’m on the subject… I think that if I ever went to Canada, I would go to Vancouver. It’s supposed to be amazing. It’s also supposed to be just like Seattle.

Speaking of Vancouver, how about those 2010 Olympic Games?! That was so nice of Canada to invite the US over for a ‘house warming party’… only to be dominated in a friendly competition of ‘Parcheesi’. The same game of ‘Parcheesi’ that they supposedly invented. (This is kind of a crummy analogy and I’m sorry… but substitute ‘Olympics’ for ‘house warming party’ and ‘winter sports’ for ‘parcheesi’ and you might just get what I’m trying to say.)

(And I just noticed that I hate semi-colons… I never know when to use them. I was just about to use one and then I thought, Hmmm I’m not sure if I should. What does it mean to use a semi colon? I don’t know.)

And I should give a salute to the US Men’s Hockey Team for a great Olympics! You made America care, even if it was for just one day. You beat Canada once… and then barley lost to that same Canada team in the Gold Medal game. But hey, that’s nothing to hang your head about. That’s like what happened Bartuvious, from Ancient Greece.

Bartuvious was a mere mortal destined to do amazing things. After defeating all the gods in the grandest of all tournaments, he fought off the Titans on his way up Mount Olympus! He finally reached his ultimate destiny!… only to be zapped by Zeus and his stupid lightning bolt.

Was Bartuvious upset? Sure, maybe a little. Was he bitter? Oh, never! For he knew that the only one who was truly bitter was Zeus. He’s wearing a thinly layered dress/cloak thingy on the top of a super high mountain. It’s freezing cold up there! Dare I say bitter cold? That’s right Canada. Face.

March Insane-ness

2010-03-18T14:38:00.002-07:00

I hate Winter. Whoever thought of Winter should consider these improvements: snow that looks and tastes like Sno-cones, reindeer BBQ, and/or t-shirts that are overcoats in disguise.

That being said, there is nothing I look forward to more than the season after winter. Sunshine, warm weather, and PJ's all day, every day. Yes, I'm talking about March Madness. Lets be honest. I don't leave my couch.

With BYU looking poised to make a run in the tournament... things couldn't be much wackier. Well, maybe they could be. Here's a discussion about BYU's star player, Jimmer Fredette.

Jason: It’s really hard for me to cheer for a team whose best player is named Jimmer.

Bart: Really? But he’s soooo Jimmer.

Jason: That is such a terrible name though…

Bart: Yeah but he’s a baller… So is Michael Lloyd Jr.

Jason: Yeah that Lloyd kid is quick. A lot like myself.

Bart: Not really. You’re slow, white and very NOT gangster.

Jason: First of all I am really hood. Second, a black kid from BYU is the opposite of gangsta.

Bart: Like I said he’s gangster not gangsta. Big difference. Plus, he’s from Vegas… he’s totally gangster.

Jason: I’m from Sun Valley! That’s a lot more hood.

(Jimmer knocks down a crossover, step-back three…)

Bart: JIMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jason: I see your enthusiasm, but I still don’t understand why his parents would do that to the poor kid.

Bart: I think they were impressionists. Jimmer is a name that you never forget.

Jason: That’s true. Kinda like Larry. Or Floyd.

Bart: Not really like Floyd. There’s a guy in my class named Floyd, I forget his name all the time. But I’ll tell you what… If I had a wife and she was pregnant, I wouldn’t think twice about naming my kid Jimmer.

Jason: I decided to start calling Mac Dad ‘Jimmer’ and he seems to be happy about it.

Bart: Mac Dad will always be Mac Dad…

Jason: Not anymore… he likes to be called Jimmer.

Bart: And who wouldn’t? ? Jimmer is classic… like Archibald… or Tiberius.

Jason: Tiberius? That is a whole lot classier than Jimmer. Jimmer sounds like a toothless redneck at Big Country Speedway.

Bart: Oh… now I can see why Mac Dad likes it…

Jason. Yeah… Mac Dad is a classy guy. I do enjoy Jimmer’s set shots and layups.

Bart: Set shots? More like crossover, step-back threes!!!

Jason: I only saw one. The rest was the classic white guy game.

Bart: If by ‘classic’ you mean ‘yankee’… then yes. The dude hails from New York.

Jason: That’s not at all what I meant. Regardless of where he’s from, he plays like Jerry West.

Bart: Did Mac Dad tell you to say that?

Jason: Huh?

Bart: You don’t know who Jerry West is, do you?

Jason: …

Bart: Jerry West is in the Basketball Hall of Fame.

Jason: …

Bart: He’s the NBA logo.

Jason: Oh yeah, the white silhouette… I’m not saying Jimmer is bad. I’m just saying he has that classic white-guy game. I feel like Jimmer is a quicker Lyle Gadbury.

Bart: Well… I’m pretty sure my dad taught him that scoop shot… and I think their feet are the same size…

Jason: Lyle does have an unstoppable scoop shot. Jimmer just needs to work on the running hook and he will be the next logo.

Bart: I can see it now. They just need to change the colors from red, white, and blue to white, off white, and transparent. It would attract a whole new generation of white players.

Jason: I think that is exactly what the NBA needs. It would be like the 1950’s all over again.

Bart: Awesome! I love poodle skirts!

Jason: Wearing them?

Bart: Wha??

Jason: You love wearing poodle skirts.

Bart: Um… psshhhhh… no…

Jason: Are you lying?

Bart: Uh… no… Are you?

The Suns trade Amare?

2010-01-27T12:26:00.000-08:00

After a torrid start to the season, the Phoenix Suns suddenly find themselves in the 8th and final playoff spot in the Western Conference. And after two losses in a row (both winnable games @ Utah and at home against Charlotte), they seem to be scratching their heads in bewilderment. The difference between their 10-1 start and their more recent 16-20 record? Defense.

Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. Phoenix has been notoriously known for its up-tempo offense and, consequently, non-existent defense. After blowing a 17 point lead in Utah, and giving up 9 straight points in OT against Charlotte, something must be done to get a more defensive minded team. My vote? Get better defensive players.

The first player to go: Amare Stoudemire. Amare has been rumored in trade talks for well over a year now, and if the Suns want to get any value for him they need to trade him before the February deadline. Otherwise, he’ll just walk after this year and the Suns will be left with nothing. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Amare. He’s one of the most dominant big-men in the game, offensively. But with Steve Nash running the offense almost ANYONE can be dominant on offense. Take Robin Lopez for example. The second-year Lopez has scored in double figures in 6 of his last 8 games, while getting starter’s minutes.

The problem with Amare is his defense. ‘But he averages over a block per game,’ you say. Well, that’s the one or two possessions he actually plays defense. The rest of the game he just floats around. And for arguably the most athletic big-man in the NBA, Amare’s rebounding is downright poor.

If the Suns are going to make a move, they need to target defensive dominant players who have the athleticism and potential to explode offensively alongside Nash. I targeted one team in the Eastern Conference (heaven forbid we trade Amare to the Spurs or Jazz), the Chicago Bulls.

http://games.espn.go.com/nba/tradeMachine?tradeId=yldfwhu

The Phoenix Suns trade Amare Stoudemire to the Chicago Bulls for Tyrus Thomas, Kirk Hinrich, and James Johnson. Why I would do this trade:

1) Thomas is a defensive force that has all the skill sets that Amare does. He’s athletic and he can shoot the mid-range jumper. He’s not the FT shooter Amare is, but he has the most upside of any player in the NBA. He’s on Vinny Del Negro’s bad list and with the emergence of Taj Gibson, they would be willing to part with Thomas.

2) Kirk Hinrich would be invaluable as Nash’s backup. Especially now that Barbosa is out with injury, and Dragic developing more as a shooting guard, the Suns need another point guard. Plus, Hinrich has been rumored in various trade talks. Another piece the Bulls are willing to part with.

3) Get as much value as possible out of Amare. James Johnson has untapped talent. With Grant Hill reaching the end of his career, Johnson would be a great player to develop in the Suns system. (Johnson was the guy they wanted in the draft anyways.) If that means throwing Taylor Griffin in the trade, then so be it.

One more trade that I would love to see for the Suns, and I’m certain they would as well: Jason Richardson and Jason Collins to Golden State for Steph Curry, Andris Biedrins, and Raja Bell. This trade is far less likely, as both teams are enamored with Curry. But hey, if we’re gonna trade, lets trade!

Now whether the Suns can pull this off or not… who knows. Hopefully Steve Kerr isn’t a bonehead and trades Amare for nothing. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Speedy Rodriguez

2009-12-18T16:16:00.000-08:00

Another intro: Say Hello! to Ryan, my arch nemisis. The Kryptonite to my Superman, the Tom to my Jerry, the mold to my three week old bread. The Bruce Bowen/Robert Horry to my Steve Nash. Yes... Ryan is from San Antonio and a huge Spurs fan. I'm amazed we get along as well as we do. He's tiny. He says he's 5'8"... but we all know better.

Bart- Dude, I got zero sleep last night.

Ryan- Dude, I haven’t slept in weeks.

Bart- Zero means 'none' in German or something.

Ryan- Hm. I learn something new everyday. ... Does that mean you don’t want to play ball today?

Bart- No… I want to... I'm just warning you I'm going to be terrible. And by ‘terrible’ I mean I won’t be throwing down my usual 360 windmill dunks.

Ryan- Yeah, me either… but not because I’m 5’8” and have the jumping ability of a four year old… I’ve been in my bed for the last 3 days reading a 600 page econ book. That’s what I get for not going to class since September.

Bart- Haha. Ouch. Talk about information overload.

Ryan- Yea… and I don’t even understand anything I’m reading… that’s why I need a b-ball break.

Bart- My thoughts exactly. Except for the whole not understanding what you’re reading. I understand everything.

Ryan- My head like seriously started hurting.
I thought I was having a brain aneurism.
I thought I was going to die.
I saw Jesus.

Bart- ... ...

Ryan- He said to never pass you the ball.

Bart - Wow... I'm pretty sure that wasn't Jesus. That had to have been Jesus' brother.

Ryan- Jesus’ brother?

Bart- Yeah, you know, His brother…

Ryan- Well, it looked like Jesus. He had a beard.

Bart- Yeah... that’s definitely His brother… Larry.

Ryan- Larry?

Bart- Yeah, Jesus’ twin. I think he's mentioned in the Bible once... or maybe that was Lucifer...?

Ryan- One of them… I can never remember these things.

Bart- Or understand them.

Twenty Six.

2009-11-29T19:06:00.000-08:00

For some people, birthdays are a big deal. Another year usually means another milestone. At age thirteen you're an official teen... sixteen: driving... eighteen: an official adult... fifty: officially an old timer. Nintey. 100. You get the picture.

But for me and my mom, none of my birthdays are as big a deal as my very first one.

This year, to commemorate that special day so long ago, I asked my mom to write my story... my birthday story. (Thanks mom, love you, you're the best!) It's a personal story (obviously since it involves me) but it's a pretty cool story. Uncut, uncensored, and unrated. (And seeing as how my mom wrote it, that means it's probably rated PG.)

Bart Nathan Gadbury - born November 28, 1983
This is one of those stories that is full of joy, sadness, anxiousness, worry and fear. But most of all, it’s a story of love.

Our second child, wasn’t due until March 7, 1984. We were so excited to be expecting our second child. We wanted another child, and he was on the way! However, unknown to us, this child was one of those kids who wanted to be first, be great, and make an entrance!

In November of 1983, things with my pregnancy were progressing well. I was getting sufficiently plump and sassy. But, for some unknown reason, my water broke and I was only at 27 weeks. Normal delivery is at 40-42 weeks. Once your water breaks, you are pretty much committed to having the baby, but being young, I really did not comprehend the seriousness of it all. I just figured, “oh well, we’ll go to the hospital, and they’ll just stop the contractions and I’ll go home and everything will progress as usual.” I was so wrong.

Arriving at the hospital in Moore, I was told I would be staying. I was to remain bedfast. They thought I had a condition called, “Placenta Previa”.

Since my water had broken, they were afraid of an infection that would affect me and the baby. So, I was to be in bed. Period. End of discussion.
The whole point of me staying in bed was to try to keep the baby inside of me for as long as possible, so that his lungs could develop more. (I say ‘he’. We did not know if we were having a boy or girl at this point.)
It was very difficult to be away from Lyle and Bret. Bret himself was still just a baby. I also had fear that they would forget about me and not need me anymore. I cried a lot.
I made it for 8 days. Long days. Soap opera days. (There was absolutely nothing else on TV!) Bret was being taken care of by my Mom and also by Kelly Bittle. I knew he was in good hands. But I just wanted to be home!
I missed Thanksgiving that year. Everyone was at my Mom’s. Dave and his little family, Mom, Dad, Aunt Mary, Grandma Hogg, Grandma Stroud, Lyle and Bret. I felt a little lonely, but grateful that our baby was still staying put. I still had no idea what really lie ahead for the both of us.
The morning of the 8th day, Monday November 28th, things began to change and to change fast. I went into labor. I was scared. I had a fever, and the chance for infection was not good for me or the baby. But no one was really telling me anything. At about noon, my contractions were about 4 minutes apart. The next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance headed for Mercy Medical Center in Oklahoma City. This baby was coming! Ready or not. I heard the phrase, “They have a great NIC Unit. That will be the best place for this baby to be born.” My thought was, “What does that mean? Surely I’m not going to have this baby?!”
The ambulance ride was extremely bumpy. I remember distinctly that I was very uncomfortable, and I wanted it to stop! I’m pretty sure I conveyed that to them once or twice! I was in total misery and somewhat delirious because of the fever and infection.
Arriving at the hospital, I was taken and monitored very quickly. “Get her to X-Ray and Ultrasound, let’s verify placenta privea.”
In the meantime, they are trying to find Lyle. He’s at work on some remote site many many miles away! There were no cell phones back then. He would have to be physically found!
I became more and more alarmed, and as they started giving choices and options, I can really only remember that I just wanted it to be over.

And where was Lyle???? Because of the infection, I was becoming more and more ‘out of it.’ My temperature was 105 degrees!
They finally found Lyle. Thank Heavens. I was really really scared now and I needed him to be there! I prayed he would make it to the hospital in time.

The ultrasound showed no placenta privea, but the baby was breech, (feet first). This is not a good thing. This would mean I could not have him normal delivery and would have to have a C-section. Major surgery. This is not something I had planned! And I was tired and so exhausted and so frightened for my baby. Would he live? I had never considered that we were both in jeopardy. I was only worried about my baby.
Lyle made it to the hospital in time. He had to come from a long way away, but I really don’t remember much more from this point on.

My baby boy was born 4:53 p.m. that day. 2 lbs 2 oz. And 14 inches long.

I did not get to hold him, cuddle him, whisper, “I love you”. I remember nothing.

Meanwhile, while they are trying to get my infection under control, and to get our baby boy to the Neonatal unit, family were waiting in the waiting room.

My Mother told me she was so upset when they wheeled our baby boy past them in the waiting room, announcing, “Mr. Gadbury, you have a baby boy!”. Mom’s thinking was that here we have a premature baby, and you’re announcing the birth like it’s Christmas! Is he going to make it? What are his chances? He only weighs 2 lbs!

All were amazed.
I was very ill. I had to have a blood transfusion and be on powerful anti-biotics plus pain shots, I was in a fog for the next few days. I really didn’t even know I had had my baby!
Meanwhile, our son was doing well. The Doctor later explained to me that my “infection had actually been beneficial to the baby. It had helped him to be more strong. He was breathing on his own…he’d be in the hospital at least 10 weeks. He has a good chance to make it”.
Really! How grateful I was. I still did not really realize what lie ahead for us both.
I actually didn’t see Bart the day he was born. I don’t even know if it was the next day! But, When I saw him, I went into shock. I felt a loss, I cannot explain it. Is this really my son? Is he going to make it? He is so small, so helpless. And all these nurses and doctors are taking care of him! Not me! The weight of it all hit like a ton of bricks.
The Doctors came to see me. They asked, “are you going to nurse your baby?” I had no idea how to reply to this question. He could not nurse. He was too weak and too small, but I could supply the milk and they would feed him through a tube that would go straight to his tummy. (Gavauge)
Was I strong enough? Mentally, physically, emotionally to supply milk? I didn’t think so, and so I told them ‘no.’

I started on a medication that stops milk production. But after I became aware of ALL the details regarding Bart, I knew I NEEDED to do this for him. It was truly the only thing I COULD do for him. I couldn’t hold him, love him, or protect him. He was ill. His lungs had not developed enough, he had apnea ( he would suddenly stop breathing) and his heart duct had not closed at birth, which meant he would have to have surgery. (PDAL, Dec 7, 1983. note from journal: “Bart, your father and I have just come home from the hospital. You had heart surgery this morning at 7:00 a.m. and you’ve done well. It’s been hard for us to see you so little, to go through all of this. You are quite the fella. We love you.” ) I was absolutely helpless! I could not even hold him. That is a cruel and hard thing to bear when you’ve just had a baby. He needed ME, his MOM and they wouldn’t let me even hold him.
I had already started on the medication to stop milk production, but I decided I wanted to try to provide milk for him anyway. And this story is truly a miracle. I was not only able to provide milk for Bart, but I had AMPLE milk. Tons of it, and it was Good quality milk. Very rich. It was the only thing I could do for Bart and I was truly blessed to be able to do this ONE SOLITARY thing.
Every ounce of my being willed him to make it, to be strong. I loved him so. He needed me, and I wanted him to feel my love and my concern. How I wished I could care for him instead of the nurses and doctors! He needed them. He needed me. He could not have both.

Providing the milk was not fun, but I found it to be easy. This will embarrass Bart, but oh well. I had to rent an electric breast pump. I felt like Bessy the cow! I never had ANY trouble. It was truly a miracle. In fact, I had frozen so much of the milk, that when Bart finally did come home, I had milk for him for a very long time. I know in my heart that this is what made him strong, and able to grow and overcome his obstacles.
Bart dropped in weight to 1 lb 15 oz for a brief time. That was scary. He had to stay in the hospital for 3 months, the rest of his gestation period.
The nursery smelled funny. I hated that smell. There were lots of sick babies there. I remember a baby in an incubator next to Bart and that his mother could not provide milk for him. I asked if I could since I had so much, but for unclear reasons, they told me no. The baby died. I was very sad and it has affected me to this very day.

We were actually able to hold Bart when he was 3 weeks old. It seemed so unkind of them to not let us hold him previous to this, but I know that it had to be that way. I cannot explain in human terms how I felt that evening when we got to hold Bart for the first time. I was scared. I felt joy! I felt pure love. I felt peace. I felt deep gratitude. I didn’t want to give him back to the nurse. He made little gurgle noises. I loved holding him.

I have a picture of that moment. Not only in my scrapbook, but in my heart. He was so small. He had to have oxygen held up to his face. But he was finally mine!

He was so small, and had tubes and wires around him. But it was wonderful to finally hold my son! How young and naïve I was. How unprepared.

Bart was so small that Lyle’s wedding band fit over Bart’s hand. Diapers were too large so he laid under the lights in his bassinet/incubator naked. This was not how it was supposed to be!

Journal entry - 12/10/1983 “Your grandma and grandpa Harnish came up to see you tonight. I think it upset them to see all the wires and tubes you’ve got hooked up to you. You looked tired tonight.

I’m sure it is your way of recuperating from surgery. You’re a special boy, I know that for sure. Your father and I want you to come home with us soon.”

This was a difficult time. Not just because our baby was in a hospital 50 miles away from us. That was trial enough….

However:

• Bret was 2 years old and needed his mom.

• My grandma Hogg and Great Grandma Stroud were living with my parents and were of ill health, and would die while Bart was in the hospital

Journal entry: “Your grandma Hogg died this week. She was very ill. She never got to see you or hold you, but she loved you very much. She lit a candle for you almost every single day. It was her way of praying for you.” …”Grandma Stroud passed away just 10 days after grandma Hogg. It’s been very hard for me because I loved them very much. They were both great ladies. You’ve had quite a spell yourself. You were doing so well, and then decided to pull some breathing problems on us. Your father and grandpa Harnish gave you a blessing today. We leave it in the Lord’s hands. Please get better. We want you home with us. You’re too far away. I love you.”

• Lyle’s business was not doing well because of the economy crunch in Oklahoma.

• My brother David’s wife, left him alone with 2 children to take care of.

• My brother Jay had had some severe trials on his mission

• We were in the middle of building a house we would never live in

• My parents were having severe marital and financial problems

• And Bart was 50 miles away in Oklahoma City. Traveling daily was difficult.

I often wonder how in the world I did it. But I know how I did it. I relied on the Lord. He indeed carried me, and blessed our little son.
Early on, when I knew that this baby boy of ours was very ill, and had so much to overcome, I experienced a great peace. I knew that Bart would make it. I knew he would be whole. (So many preemies suffer their whole lives with blindness, deafness, learning disabilities, etc.)

But I knew he would come home to us. I thank God for that peace. It carried me through a most difficult time.
Journal entry: 10 weeks old: “ you were transferred to Norman Hospital so you could be closer to us. I can now come see you 2 or 3 times a day. It’s wonderful! Your apnea problem has not gone away, but I know of a surety that when your father gave you a blessing today, that it would be the end of this problem. The Holy Ghost witnessed it to me, as I knew it when I requested the blessing. You need to be home with us. And you will be soon!”
And he did make it! Bart came home to us February 27th. No more apnea. He did not even need a monitor when he came home. What a relief, what a blessing. We both had to adjust. Being away from each other had taken a toll, but he was home. It was where he belonged. He had won the fight, and what a fight it was. It was indeed the fight of his life.
Journal entry: “You are home! What a blessing it is! And I know it’s through your fathers righteous living and bearing of his Priesthood, not to mention our faith, and the faith of many many others!”
A few notes about Bart’s first few months at home:
He slept a lot. I guess not much has changed . :)
When he was blessed as an infant at church, by his father, these are a few things that were said:

• That Bart would have the strength and will power to pull through this delicate situation that he was in

• That he has 2 parents who love him and will raise you in the church

• That he will be a binding force for his family
His first words were da-da (traitor!)
His favorite toy – measuring spoons

His favorite playmate was Bret. He would just giggle and belly laugh when he was with Bret.

Journal entry at 7 months: You are getting cuter and more alert everyday. You suck your thumb or index finger whenever you sleep or need some extra comfort. You eat well. You love fruits and vegetables, cereal and fruit juice. You reach for objects, you roll over and hold your head up really well. You love to be talked to. You have a smile that lights up your whole face. You are so cute!”
You loved peek a boo and to dance with mom.
Journal entry at 10 months: “ Bart, you’re such a cutie! You entertain yourself quite a bit, and you love it when Bret plays with you. You just belly laugh!”
You loved any kind of hat!
At one year old you had more than doubled your height to 29.75 inches and you weighed 17 lb 4 oz.
Journal entry at 1 year: “If you can survive Bret, you’ll survive anything. He sits on you, pokes, pushes, lays and any other torture he can think of. You don’t fuss too much about it, but occasionally you get fed up with him, and then you do let us know about it. You show no mercy to the dog or cat, you get a hand full of hair and pull! When you smile, your wrinkle your nose and squint your eyes and snort! You’re a total mess when you eat, but you sure have fun.”
Journal entry at 18 months: “You’re a mad-man on legs. You are anywhere and everywhere. You’re a flirt and you love hats! If you go outside we really have to watch you cos’ you move fast!”

Journal entry at age 2: “You get frustrated very easily, mostly because of your older brother. You argue a lot over toys. I try not to intercede too often. You need to learn love, compassion and sharing for each other. You love to wrestle with Bret, dad or whoever will get down on the floor with you. You’re pretty tough! You sure give good hugs.”

Journal entry at age 2 ½ “ You aren’t real sure what to think of baby Blake. You don’t like it when he cries, and don’t like it when Mom feeds him. I suppose its because you’re not the ‘baby’ anymore.

But you really aren’t. You’ve gotten to be such a big boy now. You’re getting more and more independent. You have the nicest smile.”
Journal entry at age 3: “You haven’t quite figured out how to outsmart Bret yet. He gets the best of you, but I have a feeling that he better watch out in a few years, cos’ you’re going to ‘repay’ him in full! You still have a great smile and fun laugh!”

Journal entry at age 4: “You absolutely love “JOY SCHOOL”. 8 of your friends from church all go too! It’s been good for you to have your ‘own’ school. You’re getting so big. Hard to believe you were ever so tiny. You ride your 2 wheeler with training wheels – you keep up with the bigger kids pretty well. You an Alisa have become inseparable. You like to play at each others’ house. You’ve fallen off the top bunk several times now, so we had to put you back on the bottom. You would hit with such a ‘thud’ that it would sound like the house was falling in! It’s a good thing you have a hard head!”

Journal entry at age 5: ‘You are excited about kindergarten. I think it helps you feel ‘older’ like Bret. Your best friend is Tommy Davidson and if you had it your way you’d live at his house. He has a trampoline and you like to jump on it. You both learned to ride 2 wheelers on the same day. You have a great smile with twinkly eyes. You are a good helper.”

Journal entry at age 6: “ What a boy you’ve grown to be. You’re go go go. No time for mom and dad. You love to ride your bike. And you have a great imagination. You’ve done well in school and you sleep well at night. You’re exhausted! You love jigsaw puzzles. You are good at them.”
Journal entry at age 8: “You are a great student. Not only that, you are a sweet guy. You care about others, and their feelings. That is a wonderful quality. You are terrific at the piano and you enjoy cub scouts. You and your 2 brothers have your share of arguments but you like to be with them. Someday you’ll really wamp on Bret, so he better watch out~”
_______________________________________________

Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.

2009-11-19T00:40:00.000-08:00

Bart: We’re going into business together, right?

Jason: Sure. What type of business?

Bart: Oh… I don’t know. I thought you had that part figured out. You’re the brawn and the brain and the billfold… I’m just the pretty face you’re gonna slap on billboards.

Jason: I was thinking about beet farming. Do you want to be the spokesperson for a beet farm?

Bart: Everyone loves beets, right?

Jason: I think so… that’s why it’s a great idea!

Bart: You may be on to something…

J: Now we just need to learn how to farm…

B: I grew up on a ranch… but that really doesn’t help us, does it?

J: That depends. Have you ever planted anything that didn’t die within a week?

B: No. … Wait… I once planted a seed that never grew… so, technically, it never died.

J: That’s a great point and that’s enough for me to make you Chief Operations Officer!

B: Awesome! And as my first official act as Chief Operations Officer, I hereby appoint you as Lead Implementation Specialist.

J: Thank you! As my first official act as Lead Implementation Specialist, I implement a three day work week.

B: I second it. Motion for a three day work week stands. HooRah.

J:

MEMO
Date: 11-18-2009
To: COO Bart
From: LIS Jason
Re: Hot Secretary
Can we hire Megan Fox as my secretary?

RETURNMEMO
All that other stuff.
Re: Hot Secretary
I’m sorry to inform you that, Miss Fox has already been hired on as the COO’s secretary (The COO... yeah, that’s me.)… And Kate Beckinsale as the COO’s personal assistant. (That’s also me.)

J: Oh. … That seems unfair.

B: You might think that at first, until you find out that I appointed Tina Fey and Ellen as your secretaries! Surprise!

J: Wait… what? No. Why?!

B: Can you say ‘funnest office in the building’?! I think you can!

J: I want hottest office in the building! Not an ugly chick and an uglier lesbo!

B: Sorry. You automatically ruled your office out of the running when you hired me as COO. I’m hot. … But don’t worry. The hot secretaries and I will come and visit often.

J: I’m resigning and starting a brussel sprouts farm.

And now... one of my favorite clips from The Office.
Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.

Birthdays are Holidays

2009-11-16T17:43:00.001-08:00

Holidays are the worst time to be single. No presents, no gifts, no parties… no meaningful snuggling by a warm fire while drinking hot cocoa and stirring things up with a spoon (and no, I’m not talking about hot cocoa anymore). Instead, you come home to an empty, undecorated room, turn on Sportscenter and drift slowly to sleep with a glass of milk. (Yeah, definitely no spoon… not even with hot cocoa….) Aaaaaand, I just realized that I celebrate a ‘holiday’ almost every, single night of my life. Yay, me.

(Did you see what I did there? A little thing called The Double Entendre.)

The other night we went to dinner with the basketball girls to celebrate a birthday. (From here on out if I ever mention the term ‘basketball girls’ or the ‘bball girls’… just know I’m referring to the BYU Women’s Basketball team. Yeah, we hang out.) Have you ever been sitting around the dinner table with your family and had someone ask, “What was the best part of your day?” Well I haven’t. Thank goodness most of my family dinners were spent in absolute silence. Occasionally there was lobbying over who gets the last scoop of potatoes, and loud, spasmodic ventilation of you-know-what… but what are you going to do with three boys?

Anyways, back to the bball girls… so we did the ‘best part of your day’ thing, with everyone taking a turn. I said, “Talking to mom about Christmas.” It got a few ooos and awes… but as the group continued listening to other ‘best day’ stories, I couldn’t help but think… That was also the worst part of my day. You see, my birthday is one month before Christmas: November 28. It’s hard for me to believe that my sweet mother could get swept up in society’s greed-filled plague of the ‘me first, give thanks second’ mode of thinking that has our whole nation going from Halloween to Christmas in a matter of 24 hours…. But she skipped right over my birthday… and went straight to Christmas.

So, I gave my mom my Christmas list… which just so happens to be my birthday list…

Do you think Jesus will mind if I open my collection of Calvin and Hobbes comic books on His birthday? Yeah, I don’t think he will either.

Oh, and one more thought… if you forget your birthday… does it still count? Or can I go on being 25 for another year?... I wonder if that’s what Greg Oden, LeBron James, and Baron Davis thought…

___G-Pa Oden_____________LeBruuun

______21___________________24

___Boom Dizzle_______________This Guy

______ 30____________________25

Speed is Relative

2009-11-12T23:10:00.000-08:00

I had a converstion with a childhood friend the other day. Some of you reading this blog may remember him as my 'fake friend', as you so ruthlessly labeled him many years ago.... (Tia). So I'd like to introduce the rest of you to my best friend growing up... the coauthor and cohort of many late night shenanigans, the Stoudemire to my Nash, the Montana to my Rice, the beef to my slow cooker... well, you get the point.

Jason: Bartholomew Jay Merriweather Witherspoon III! How doth thou doeth?

Bart: Jason Winifred Ulysses Hammock Jr! The sire be-eth well. And thou?

Jason: Good morrow, sire! Venus hath lifted her skirt. Apollo hath blessed us with the removal of his blouse!

Bart: Oh blessed Apollo… thou art a magnificent beast indeed.

Jason: I have decided that you must submit a proposal to BYU to convince them to recruit more black kids. Slow white kids and fat islanders don’t win football games.

Bart: I’ve written three. And BYU does have one black kid. He’s just really slow. And I don’t think it’s the players. I think it’s the coaching. We need black coaches.

J: Do black coaches make the players faster?

B: By osmosis. (Now to myself) Or is by muscle replacement?

J: Wow! This is groundbreaking research! If I hang out with black kids, will I get faster?

B: Well... you won’t. Osmosis only works on people who haven't been labeled as ‘the slowest person alive’. Plus, you don’t know any black people.

J: I will have you know that I am Turnberry Heights Retirement Home’s reigning 100 and 200 meter champion. I won and I’m the Champ! And I live with the blackest kid alive. (Kid painted in black paint)

B: Yeah but I heard you won last year because you kicked Ms. Hill’s walker out from under her, and Mr. Johnson was disqualified for using a motorized scooter.

J: That is a matter of conjecture! I won and I’m the Champ! And even if it were true, why should she get to use a walker? She might as well be on steroids!

B: Conjecture? You’re just lucky Fat Harold sat in front of the camera right as it happened. Otherwise your medals would have been stripped.

J: Don’t you mean striped?

B: No, the medals are already striped… your striped medals would have been stripped.

J: If it can’t be proven, it didn’t happen! I won and I’m the Champ!

B: And still slow.