Updates From Lee...Whether I Want Them Or Not

As many of you know, my work email account is my contact with the outside world.  Several times during the day I will check my email, and if the content in my inbox is deemed worthy, (By me of course.) it is forwarded out across the nation so that my email contacts can enjoy a good laugh.  In the last week however, the email forwarding tables have been turned on me.  Because of this, I now receive something called “Lee’s Updates.”

Keep in mind that the only Lee I personally knew died about 6 years ago.  So this new Lee is a complete mystery to me.  The forwards started last week with “Lee” emailing me talking about how he would know how to fix the oil leak in the gulf, but no one had asked him to help.  I don’t quite know what background Lee has that would qualify him to fix the biggest oil spill of all time, but according to him he is the man.  I bet Lee is sitting in his house right now, cape and mask at the ready, waiting for the BP executives call so he can leap into action and plug the hole that is causing so much heartache right now.

Today Lee informs me that he is currently running over 9000 projects, and because of that he is a very diverse person.  9000?? Really Lee?  It was after this email I decided to take some action.  I noticed that there was a section at the bottom of the email that said I could opt out of Lee’s updates at any time.  Since I don’t really care that much about Lee and his updates, I clicked on the unsubscribe.  Of course all that did was take me to a server page where I had to enter a name and password to cancel the emails.  After trying every password and name in the book, and being denied every time, I gave up trying to rid my inbox of Lee.  The situation called for a more drastic measure.

You see, about the same time I started receiving Lee’s updates, our cyber security department added a suspicious email button to our email program.  Any spam email you receive is supposed to go to this new place.  After thinking about it, I was going to send Lee their way.  I mean, I did not sign up for Lee’s updates.  They had been forced upon me by this character, and having no way to rid myself of his emails, I was left with no choice but to use my brand new spam eliminator.

I sent Lee’s email on its way, feeling satisfied that I had rid myself of his updates.  No longer would Lee be able to force himself on me ever again.  But my joy was short lived.  I found out this afternoon the Lee is actually Lee McIntire, CEO of CH2MHill.  That’s right, I reported the CEO of the company I work for to the email police.  Hopefully ol’ Lee has a sense of humor about these kind of things, and everything will turn out OK.

Rednecks...They Aren't Just In The South Anymore

So yesterday at work I was showing one of my co-workers how to send YouTube clips via email.  You see, I am kind of the unofficial computer support technician for my fellow co-workers.  In fact, it has been said (Not only by the women at work, but by my lovely wife too.) that I cannot die any time soon, because if I did too many people would be inconvenienced by my passing.  Of course all they would have to do is go on over and visit my Uncle Mike and he would be able to answer any computer related questions, but I prefer staying alive to help personally.

OK, so there I was, showing her how to copy and paste the YouTube links into her email when I saw it: A video called "Completion of the new redneck roller coaster".  I must admit I was intrigued.  Rednecks and roller coasters sound like they could go good together.  Upon finishing my tutorial on the art of emailing links, my curiosity got the best of me and I checked out the link.

It was about what I was expecting.  Redneck had put a platform on top of his car, and through good ol' fashioned redneck ingenuity, rigged up a steering wheel, gas pedal, and shifter so they were able to drive the car....outside of the car.  After one redneck took his turn, he passed it off to his friend so he could take his turn to drive.  Redneck #2, who was sporting the gnarliest mullet I have ever seen (Imagine a man in his mid 40's who is going bald and has no hair on the front part of his head.  Now imagine that same man with hair down to his belly button.  You get the picture) hops right aboard and takes the "roller coaster" for a spin.

Now up to this point everything sounds pretty run of the mill redneck tomfoolery.  That is what I thought too...until I started to pay closer attention to the accent of these rednecks.  It wasn't a southern accent.  It was....Canadian?  I started the video over and turned the volume up.  Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed.  These were Canadian rednecks!!!

I was blown away.  I did not know that such a creature existed.  Instead of every sentence followed by an "ohm" it was followed by "eh".  Instead of drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon beer they were downing Labatt's beer. And instead of the Navy Jack flag being flown all over the place, they proudly flew a Union Jack flag.  (I don't quite get that one...are they trying to show the frenchies of Canada they prefer the England flag?  I might need to research that one.)  It was as if some rednecks from the south got lost many years back while riding their lawnmowers to the beer store and ended up north of the border, ran out of gas, and cross bred with some local Canadian folk.

I watched a few more videos, but after a while the fun wore off.  If I am going to spend my time watching videos on YouTube of rednecks, I am going to go with the red blooded American type.  The type that can turn a rake into a deluxe hot dog cooker.  The type that can flash fry a whole turkey in 20 seconds, pull it out, smother it with more butter batter, and fry it again.  You might have come a long way Mr. Canadian redneck, but you still pale in comparison to our homegrown model.

If you are as intrigued as I was, check out this hybrid species of redneck here.  And as a little enticement to get you to check out the rest of the Canadian redneck videos, here is a little sample:

And The Finalists Are...

Here we are, almost to the end of yet another season of American Idol. Of course that means it is time for 2 hour episodes of A.I., with only about 10 minutes of that time actually pertaining to the outcome. As everyone knows this was the first year without the habitual drunk Paula Abdul as a judge. While that has cut down on the vanilla flavored criticisms of the contestants, (Which I must admit has been nice, but I do miss the ramblings from the washed up pop star who thinks she still has it.) it has given birth to Cara Dioguardi, who is always referring to Randy Jackson and Ellen Degeneres as “The Guys”. But the big hit will come next year, when A.I. will be without the man America loves to hate, Simon Cowell.

Even with the absence of Paula and the edition of Ellen, American Idol hasn’t been as painful to watch as I first envisioned. Ellen has been downright hilarious at times, and she has brought more to the show than I thought she would. But no matter how many times Ellen cracks jokes about the contestants, or Randy finding new ways to say, “It sounded pitchy dog”, American Idol will be in the toilet without Simon Cowell. 

With the quest to find Simon’s replacement for next year still ongoing, I feel the time is right to name my top finalists to take over his position, and the odds of them taking the job.

FINALIST #1 Donald Trump (20-1)

Ahh, the Donald.  First off, lets take the chair he would be sitting in.  It would be a leather high back chair, and knowing the Donald he would not be happy sitting on the very end of the table.  The first day of auditions he would tell Cara to switch him spots and if she refused, he would buy her house, tear it down, and build a few more Trump Towers.  Once his rightful spot behind the table was established, the judging would start.  I have a feeling it would go something like this:

The Donald: (To the person auditioning)  "May we please have your name, age, and gross income for 2007-2010 please?"

Contestant:  "Uh, I am not sure, let me think...."

Randy:  "Hey Dawg, why you askin' about her cash flow?  This is a singing contest, not the Apprentice dude!"

The Donald:  "Randy, I am disappointed in you for cutting off the contestant while she was trying to answer.  For that move...Randy, you're fired."

Randy:  "What?  You can't fire me dawg, I am Randy Jackson.  I wrote some of the biggest hits of the 80's!"

The Donald:  "Of course I can Randy, don't know know who I am?  Next contestant please."

Ellen: "Now Mr. Trump, that is just darn silly.  Randy is part of our team of judges."

The Donald:  "I know, but he was the weakest link.  He is not the type of person I want for a project manager."

Contestant: (Who probably is horrible, but has been told her whole life she is the next Beyonce or Celine Dion.)  "Uh, so am I like, not getting to sing?  Or maybe I need to sing a different song?"

The Donald:  "Why are you still here contestant?  Leave me boardroom, you were fired too.  And take Randy with you.  Next contestant please."

Randy:  "Dang dawg, I can't believe I just got fired."

OK, maybe Donald Trump wouldn't quite work out for American Idol.  That brings us to the next finalist.


FINALIST #2 Jim Rome (40-1)

Jim Rome, one of the most influential voices in sports today would bring one thing to the table that Simon is taking with him.  Attitude.  For those of you who listen to, or have listened to Jim Rome in the past know that he is a master at coming up with nicknames.  So much so, his radio show has its own language called "smack."  And smack is just what ol' Jim would lay down on the contestants.  It would go something like this:

(Contestant has finished singing.  Randy, having been rehired after the whole Trump incident, liked what he heard.  Ellen follows up with how the contestant sounded OK, and Cara exclaimed that the contestant didn't make the song his own.)

Ryan Seacrest: "OK, now we are to Jim.  What did you think of the contestant Jim?"

Jim Rome:  "That.  Was.  Horrible!  (Long pause while he shuffles some papers.)  What did you do before you sang tonight man?  Did you get beat up by those two tennis playing William's brothers backstage?  Not even one of those fancy wrist things that bowlers wear could have made that performance any better.  Heck, Neems song, "Jordan's Dad" sounded better than that!  You are an embarrassment to all the REAL singers out there....

(Insults, sound clips, and 10 minutes later he is still ranting.)

...Sorry, but you have no game.  And you have wasted 5 minutes of my life I would like back."

Ryan Seacreast:  "Uh, thanks Jim.  Now for the next contestant."

Of course the next day Jim Rome would have the contestant on his radio show, and after interviewing him would decide that maybe he was wrong about him, and from that point on pimp him out to everyone who will listen.  He will also have no memory of ever disliking the contestant.

Maybe these first two finalists aren't quite Idol material.  Which is good for the last finalist, because in my view he would be the best out of the three.

FINALIST #3  Don King (9-5)

If you thought Paula heaped on the praise heavy, you have no idea what Don King could do:

Randy:  "I wasn't feeling it dawg.  Sorry, but its a no from me dude."

Ellen: "Well, at least you have your health, right?  I like your style, but there is no substance to your singing.  Kind of like my ex-girlfriend."

Cara:  "You know what, I think I am going to have to agree with the guys.  I just don't think you are right for this competition."

Ellen whispering to Randy:  "Did she just call me a guy again?  I know I switched teams a while back, but to call me a guy?  Who does she think I am, that Bono girl?  Uh, I mean..guy?"

Don King:  "THAT WAS THE GREATEST!  I MEAN THE GREATEST!  YOU ARE THE SINGER WHO WILL WIN IT ALL!  NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, YOU ARE THE CHAMP!  STOP THE PRESSES, WE HAVE THE NEW SUPERSTAR!  ALL THE GREATS ARE NOW SECOND PLACE TO YOU!  DON KING FOUND THE BEST YET AGAIN!  GOD BLESS AMERICA!  ONLY IN AMERICA COULD DON KING FIND THE BEST SINGER OF ALL TIME!"

Yesiree, Don King would be great on American Idol.  And I bet he would do it if asked.  I don't think he has any major fighters right now he is promoting, so why not jump on Idol?

Well, that is my top 3.  Of course the problem American Idol is going to run into next year is that it is going to be a shell of its former self.  The two most controversial judges will be gone, leaving not much else to get excited about.  I am sorry to say that much like The Office, American Idol is past its prime.  And also like The Office, it has no idea it has turned from being a national sensation to something that is DVR'd but never watched.

So enjoy the rest of American Idol this year.  Root for your favorite contestant, and just be thankful that Taylor Hicks isn't eligible to come back again.

About Ready to Start Again, But Until Then, a Word From Our Sponsors...

OK, It is Friday night, and I just finished packing up my clothes for my looong flight back to the good ol' Tri-Cities. I wowed the fine citizens of Anchorage with my mad karaoke skills, and have met several nice people, but alas it is time to head back home. After being in Anchorage for the past week, I have felt the urge to start writing for this little ol' blog again. No really, I mean it.

Now I know what El Donaldo fans worldwide are saying right now. (Don't forget, I was voted the #1 blog in Liechtenstein for the third quarter of 2007!) You have all heard this line from me before. In fact it was about 3 months ago. But this time I mean it. Even though I hate doing it via email, I have some great things I want to write about. And if I have to do it in between handling Plutonium, then so be it.

So look forward to this Monday for the return of El Donaldo. But until then, go back into my blog vault and chew on some of the morsels I have left behind. I will even make it easy on you. Below you will find some of my favorite posts. Read them. Re-read them. Share them on facebook. Start an internet phenomenon by forwarding them to your friends.

First off, if you have never read my Workin' For the MAN! series I wrote a couple years back, check them out here:

Workin' for the MAN!  Part One


Workin' for the MAN! Part Two (The Fast Food Years!)

Workin' for the MAN! Part Three (The Mall Rat Years!)

Workin' for the MAN! Part Three Continued... (Best Eddie Bauer Story Ever.)

Workin' for the MAN! Part Three B  (Still a Mall Rat)


Workin' for the MAN! Part Four (The Bindery  Boy Years)

After WftM, check out these favorites:

Ugh...Not Earth Day Again

Stories from Wal-Mart

The Triumphant Return of Alpha-Bits

Lies, Mistruths, and the Mindless Internet Users Who Forward Them.

Travel John

My Lesbian Dogs

Please, read my old work.  And if you like it, I have many more good posts in store.  Until then, have a good weekend.

A.D. is for Annoying Drivers

I know I have brought this up time and time again on this blog, but I have a commute that many others in the area I live in also have to endure day after day.  From my garage to my parking spot it is approximately 38.7 miles.  Well, unless I decide to stop by Sonic and get a breakfast burrito…then it is about 39.1 miles, but I digress.  In the last ten years I have been making this drive, I have discovered that my fellow drivers fall into one of four categories.  So today, El Donaldo brings you the, “What Kind of Driver Am I?” test.  There are no right or wrong answers, but if you fall into categories 1 or 2, don’t be surprised if I (category 3) pass you out on my way to work.

 Driver type #1

“The Grandma Driver”

I figured I would start with the driver that is the most annoying of all.  The Grandma Driver has one main rule:  Drive at least 5-10 miles UNDER the speed limit at ALL times.  Whether they are on the way to the grocery store to pick up some of those nasty hard candies that no one wants to eat, or rushing a blue in the face Uncle Dirk to the hospital, the rule of driving painfully under the speed limit must always be followed.  Out on the highway the grandma driver is known to hold up traffic to the point where people 40 cars behind are of the mindset that traffic has been slowed due to some grisly accident.  This of course then causes normally sane people to swerve back and forth in their lane while trying to get a glimpse of the horrors ahead.

The Grandma driver is also known to slow down to a near stop when coming within ½ a mile of a traffic light, because if their words, “You never know when that darn gummed light is going to flip to red on you.”  This action then raises the chance of being rear ended by 37 percent.  Roundabouts are also a point of contention with this type of driver, as they are known to stop in the middle of a roundabout to let another car go by.  Unfortunately, this only causes confusion among the other drivers waiting in line to enter the roundabout.  That is unless the next in line is a fellow grandma driver; then they know exactly what the other driver is doing.  On rare occasions, both grandma drivers won’t want to cut the other off, and you will have what is known as a “Grandma Roundabout Standoff”, or GRS for short.

For some reason many illegal immigrants to this country also drive in the Grandma fashion.  Maybe their reasoning is that they want to blend in, but most times it makes them stick out like a sore thumb.  Southern California, and farming communities up and down the west coast are where the illegal alien grandma driver are most times seen.

The Grandma Driver should be avoided at all costs, and if you happen to get stuck behind one, pass them as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

(Also known as the “Slow Mo’ Joe”, the “Illegal Immigrant”, and the “Too Blind To See The Speedometer” driver.)

 Driver type #2

“The Molly Driver”

As the name implies, this driver does everything by the book.  The Molly Driver will never be caught going a mile over the speed limit.  They know the drivers guide book from cover to cover, and can quote from it whenever they see fit.  At yellow lights the Molly proceeds with caution, and will slow down and stop at the first sign of a yellow light.  The thought of breaking even one traffic law, moving or non-moving, is enough to keep them awake at night.  When the Molly is on the road, it doesn’t matter if a semi has lost its brakes and is barreling towards the back of them, they will never speed up to get out of the way.  It is a well known fact that in the state of Utah, the Molly Driver is an extinct species.  Efforts have been made to introduce Molly back into the Beehive state, but have been squashed by Utah drivers from Logan to St. George.

(The male version is known as the Peter Perfect driver, and can be identified by the nicely pressed cardigan sweater, and pleated Khaki pants with cuffs at the bottom.  Most times this male is older, and will soon be part of the Grandma driver ranks.)

 Driver type #3

“The Jitterbug Driver”

This category is where the majority of drivers fall.  The Jitterbug is a firm believer in the “at least 5 miles over the speed limit at all times” rule.  If driving on a 4 lane road the Jitterbug will try to take the lane with the least amount of people.  Due to this fact, every once in a while they will choose a lane filled with Molly and Grandma drivers, and end up being stuck in the lane until they can find an opening in the other lane. 

Most jitterbugs do not invest money in a radar detector, because as most Jitterbugs will claim, “If the cops can go 5 mph over the speed limit at all times, so can I!”  Jitterbugs can be easily annoyed when they are stuck behind a Grandma or Molly on the highway, and will pass at the first available moment.  Some have even been known to stick their hand out the window and flash a 5-5 at drivers not driving up to snuff.  This usually will be followed by the passed driver flashing the middle finger salute.  (Please note:  The middle finger salute is not confined to any one type of driver, but is most times identified with the Jitterbug or the Crack Head Driver.)

Jitterbugs are found all over, and cannot be defined by age or gender.

(Also known as the “Experienced Teenage Driver” and the “I Can’t Afford Another Speeding Ticket So I Only Go 5 Over” driver.)

 Driver type #4

“The Crack Head Driver”

The Crack Head driver can come in many different shapes and sizes, but the main shape in that of a teenage male.  Whether the next stop light is 2 blocks or 2 miles away, the Crack Head driver will slam on the gas, and attempt to melt his tires to the pavement.  Red lights are usually stopped at, but most times the front end of the car (which usually has duct tape holding it together due to the fact some Grandma started slowing down at a yellow light instead of punching the gas.) will be across the line.  Yellow lights are nothing more than an invitation to see how high their tachometer can go.  Turn signals are seen as a nuisance, and are only used if a policeman is in the near vicinity.  And cop or no cop, the Crack Head will NEVER allow someone to get in his or her lane.  If somehow another driver does happen to merge into the Crack Head lane, they feel as much shame as the Molly driver does when a traffic law is broken.  Since drinking alcohol and driving is outlawed, a pile of Mountain Dew or Rockstar energy drink cans can be found in the back seat.

Crack Head drivers treat the freeway like their own personal speedway.  Anybody not going at least 10-15 miles over the speed limit are personally trying to piss off the Crack Head, and will be dealt with by flipping the bird out the window.  Radar detectors are the Crack Head’s best friend, and they are always on the search for the newest and best detector.  Charging across 3 lanes of traffic to make an exit is the rule for this driver, not the exception.  Just about every time this type of driver passes somebody on the road, they end up at the same stop light.

Various studies have shown the reason why Utah has failed to reintroduce Molly drivers back into the driving environment is because the Crack Head driver will not allow it to happen.  Because of the Molly reintroduction failure, the term Crack Head driver is synonymous with the term Utah Driver.

(Also known as the “Utah Driver”, “California Driver”, “Prison Escapee”, and the “Beginning Teenage Male Driver”.)

Every day during my commute I share the road with each kind of these drivers.  They reason why I have to go 40 mph on the bypass instead of the posted 55.  Others are why I can get away with doing 75 in the 65 mph zone on HWY 240.  And it will be that way for the rest of time.  Some things just never change.

Living off the grid...kind of

Picture if you will:  You are out with that special someone on a nice drive through the countryside.  You have a wonderful picnic lunch packed, and in the next hour or so you will arrive at your destination, and enjoy what in your mind will be the perfect afternoon.  You arrive at the park with the luscious green grass, and the wind is blowing softly through the trees.  You are about to take a bite of your sandwich, and RIIIING!!! RIIIING!!!  You cell phone goes off.  It is your boss, he has forgotten how to get to his email, and he needs you to come back right this minute to show him how to do it.  This situation sounds like it would really suck huh?  Well, unless you are me.  I don't have this problem.  You see, El Donaldo doesn't have a cell phone.

I can just imagine the look on your face as you read that last sentence.  There are most likely several questions running through your mind right now, and they all have to do with wondering, "How does he LIVE without one?"  To answer that question...I live quite well, thank you.

I know this might come as a shock.  After all, I do just about everything else electronically.  I have this blog, I have both a Myspace and a Facebook page.  I have 4 different email accounts. I have my iPod touch that plays not just music, but games as well.  I am connected to the internet at home, work, and when I can find a signal, on my iPod touch via WiFi. I am constantly searching for updated news stories by way of all the outlets mentioned above.  But for some reason, by not having a cell phone, I am somehow living in the stone age.  And believe it or not, I am happy that way.

Not having a cell phone has so many advantages, I don't even know if I can list them all here.  My favorite is the look I get to see on people's faces when I tell them if they want to call, they need to call my home phone number. Seriously, some people don't know how to react when you tell them you don't have a cell they can contact you at. The thought of not having instant access to someone 24/7 is enough to make some people hyperventilate.

Once they pull themselves together and process what I just said about being cell-less, the questions start.  "How do you get by without one???"  "What if your car breaks down, and you don't have a way to call somebody?"  Or my personal favorite, "How is somebody supposed to get a hold of you when something important happens?"  

What you in the cell phone carrying public don't understand is the FREEDOM that comes from NOT having a cell phone.  Lisa and I can go out for a fun time and not have to be bothered by somebody calling wanting to know what we thought of American Idol the night before.  We can go out to eat, and enjoy a meal without having to be checking our phone for the next text message to come through asking some random question that has no real purpose.  

And if for some reason we step out of the restaurant and realize we locked our keys in the car, all we have to do is go back in and ask if somebody has a phone we can use.  Chances are very good that in this situation two things will happen:

1- The place will go dead silent.  Everyone there will think they misheard us when we said we needed to borrow a phone.  I will look around the room to see if anyone has just gone into cardiac arrest when the news was broken they were sitting with two oafs who were not packing a phone with them

2- As soon as people get over the initial shock of the fact we are null cell, just about everyone's hand will go up, and the bright glow of AT&T, Verizon, Sprint, and Nextel phones will fill the room.  


Of course part of me feels sorry for when Alexandra asks me for a cell phone.  I figure around age 10 she will start hitting us up for her own phone.  It is going to be one of those moments where as a parent I am going to crush my child's dream.  Kind of like when I was little and my parents took us to see Grand Coulee Dam, and all Heidi and I wanted were some twinkies.  We begged.  We pleaded.  And in the end...we left sans twinkies.  Unfortunately for Alexandra, that cell phone she will want in a few years is never going to materialize.  In fact, I know exactly what I will say to my oldest daughter..."Sure Lex, you can have a cell phone...as soon as your old man gets one."  I was really hoping that she wouldn't start hating me until she was a teenager.  Hopefully buying her a car will make up for it.


Call me crazy for not wanting to pay upwards of 100 bucks a month just so I can talk on the phone in a place other than my house or work.  Just be sure to do it while I am at one of those places, or you might have to leave a message.

There's always money in the banana stand...

There are two types of people in this world. Those who understand the title of this post, and those who have no idea what I am talking about. To those of you read the title and chuckled, congratulations. You already know where I am going with this post. To those of you who have no idea where I am going with this, you are seriously missing out.

I am talking about the short lived Fox TV show, Arrested Development.

There are so many ways I could describe this show, but there is only one word that I need: Brilliant.

I must admit, the first time I watched A.D. I wasn't impressed. It was in the middle of the 2nd season, and to tell the truth, I just didn't get it. It didn't seem to make any sense. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I took the advice that Julie Andrews gave in Sound of Music: I would start at the very beginning. It is a very good place to start.

It was a great idea. I borrowed the 1st season from a co-worker who had been raving about the show for years, and was overcome with joy when I mentioned that I too wanted to see what the show was all about. With DVD's in hand I started to watch what is now one of my all time favorite shows.


I was instantly hooked.  Lisa wasn't swayed as easily, but by the 4th or 5th episode she had come around.  Within a month we had finished all three seasons.  In fact the only bad part of the show is that it only lasted three seasons.


I could go on and on about this show, but instead I invite you to watch one of Lisa and mine's favorite Arrested Development clips.




Arrested Development can be watched on Hulu.com.  If you want to enjoy an A+ show, check it out.  You won't be disappointed.

Makin' Momma Proud

In my 32 years on God's green earth, I have learned how to do 1000's of things. Walking, talking, math, basketball, winning at Hanford Uno, perfecting the art of changing a poopy diaper, forging notes from my parents, and the skill of sarcasm are just a few things that make up the list. But there is one thing I had never done in my life until now. On Saturday, I sewed a button onto a pair of my khaki cargo shorts. Yes, you read that right. El Donaldo has gone domestic.

Now I know that to many of you, sewing a button onto something shouldn't be that big of a deal, especially when you have a Mother like mine who has been sewing for the last 35-40 years. But it is a big deal. The whole sewing thing has never been...well...my thing. If I needed something sewn on I would take it to my mom and have her do it. Sure it might take her 6 weeks to get the button back on the shorts, but I wasn't going to attempt something of that magnitude on my own.

Well this weekend I decided to bite the bullet. For those of you who know me, you know that there is no weather too cold for me to wear shorts. In fact, I actually hate to wear pants. They are uncomfortable. I hate it when they bunch up around my shoes and people mistake me for an over aged skate board punk. It can be 23 degrees outside and snowing, but I will still be sporting my shorts.

The problem I am running into is that several pairs of my shorts are starting to wear out. In the last 2 months I have had to throw away 3 pairs due to the crotch or the sides of the pockets tearing out of them. For a lover of shorts, it is a sad day when a pair you have grown to love has become so ratty that I run the risk of being arrested for indecent exposer. It only leaves me with 1-2 pairs of proper winter shorts in my wardrobe. And one of those pairs lost the button last week.

At first I did what I always do; I placed the button on top of the dresser, and use it as a reminder I have to take the shorts to my parents house so Mommy dearest can sew it on. But since I am down to such a small number or shorts, I couldn't afford to wait the mandatory 2 1/2 months for her to take 5 measly minutes and sew it back on. I was desperate. Without this button, I would have to ::gasp:: wear a pair of jeans to work. This was not an acceptable solution.

You know how there are defining moments in your life where you remember exactly what was going on when the moments happens? My first moment is when Kurt Cobain died. My second was when Hostess stopped making Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pudding pies with the green pudding. And the third was this Saturday when I embarked on sewing my first button.

First I headed to the laundry room where Lisa keeps a mini sewing kit. I sat down at the kitchen table with the shorts, the button, and the needle and thread that my two hands were soon going to reattach the button with. After spending the first 5 minutes trying to figure out how to thread the needle I was ready to go. I went in one way. I then went in the other way. Before I knew it, I had enough thread in that button that not even my fat gut was going to be popping it off again. I felt like Tom Hanks in that movie Castaway when he made a fire. I had done it!

Only one little problem. I sewed the button on a little too high and to the right. While this doesn't look very ascetically pleasing, it does the job of holding my shorts up. It isn't pretty, but it is sewn back on. And I did it all on my own. I hope Mommy dearest is proud of her oldest son. It only took him 32 years to learn how to sew on a button.

Not very pretty, but it will get the job done!

Where oh where are all the folicles going?

It has begun. It started with a lone strand here and there. "No big deal!" I would tell myself. But before long that 1 or 2 strands turned into 5-6 strands. I know that I should be happy that it took over 32 years, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. I think even my grand plan of plucking it out of my ears so it would still grow on my dome is starting to fail. I might as well admit it. I, Donald R. Sorenson, ESQ. am starting to lose my hair.

As much as I detest my curly hair, the thought of it no longer being on my head is something I have been thinking about for a very long time. When I was 7 I sat on Santa's lap and asked him for a strong and thick head of hair, so I would not end up like my Dad or my Grandfather. When I was 13 I started calling up the Hair Club For Men to inquire just how soon someone could join their club. I was actually quite annoyed when the lady told me to stop prank calling them, and how they are there to help people, not be my personal joke telling line. I even joined a Rogaine mailing list so I could always be on top of the latest advances and developments in the science of hair retention.

I don't know why my hair is that important to me. I wear a hat 95 percent of the time. Normally I only style it on Sundays so I can look suave at church. In fact my one and only goal for my hair was that it stayed around long enough to bag myself a hottie of a wife. Anything after that I was considering a bonus. But now that my forehead seems to be getting bigger on the left side of my head, I am starting to remember all the good times me and my hair had.

Like that time in 8th grade when I decided to cut my mullet off. The year was 1992, and even though mullets had not yet started to lose favor with the general public, I was tired of having hair that when wet was below my shoulders, but when dry became bunched up around my ears like some sort of hair neck warmer due to the curliness of it.

When I told my mom of my hair altering decision she took me into the salon where she had her hair cut. When we walked into Precision Cuts (Back when it was in the Highlands Shopping Center.) she introduced me to a stylist named Katie. It was right then I knew I had made a good decision. You see, Katie was very attractive. And since before whenever I needed a hair cut I would have my mom do it, it was a whole new experience having a hot young hair stylist cutting my hair and running her fingers though my curls. I might have only been 14 at the time, but I was secretly planning ways I could make Katie not only fall in love with me, but get permission from my parents to let me go out with her. I would even do the dishes, and I HATED doing dishes. It seemed like a fair trade off to me.

Katie cut my hair for several years. When I knew I was heading in, I would do some push ups so my 103 pound body would look nice and toned. You know, just in case that was going to be the day she would announce her unrelenting love for me. But alas, that day never came. Instead I would have to hear about her boyfriend and what he was up to. Remember that hair? Good times.


Or my senior year in high school when I would grow my hair out just so I could go pick up a hair relaxer kit and straighten it. Remember how I wasn't able to brush you for 2 days due to the 2nd degree burns on my scalp? And that was using the children formula. My good friend Travis loved to make fun of how my white head couldn't even take the relaxer his 10 year old sister would use. But for those glorious 3 weeks, my hair was straight! Oh the memories.

There were also several times when I changed hair styles. The most memorable one was when I used to comb my hair straight down. It was during this time I found the woman of my dreams. Because of that fact I didn't want to change how I combed it. But then one day my sister in law Jennifer, who is always on top of the latest fashions, explained to me that I looked like I lived in Utah. The only thing missing was a BYU shirt and girls around asking if I was an RM or not. The next day I ditched the down look and went up with the front. And I must admit, it was a good change in style for me. Other than minor changes here and there, my hair is still done in this fashion.

Yes, my hair has had a good run. After all, I was 100 percent convinced that by high school graduation I was going to look like our drunken high school security guard Mr. Ralston. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that at the ripe "old age" of 32 I would still have the locks of a soap star. But I did. It is now time to let go, although don't think I will go down without a fight. I am pretty sure I have that information packet from Bosley that I sent away for when I was 16 somewhere around here. Lucky for me, I believe that Rogaine can be bought over the counter now. I might even have to work a little OT here and there to cover the cost of my new hair treatments.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. While I know it will be a while before it is all gone, I will still shed a tear in the shower every time my hands are covered with my own lettuce. I will be OK. I have assurances from Lisa that she will not mind me looking like Anthony Edwards. And who knows? Maybe there is a whole new bald world out there I didn't even know existed. Today I take the first step. Acceptance.


Now where did I put that can of spray on hair...

8 things that I know to be true, and wish everyone else did also

Over the 32 years I have been on this earth, there have been many things that I have formed opinions on. And of course some of these things I don't just consider my opinion, but as fact. And since I am hard up for blog material, I decided that I would do all of you a favor and shed some light on things that every person should know. Here goes...

#1 JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A FANCY CAMERA DOESN'T MEAN YOU ARE A PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER.

This is a fact that I have discovered to be true in the past year or so. I think it was when I tired of using MySpace and decided to try out Facebook instead. The more friends I joined up with on FB, the more requests I received for my to become a "fan" of their photography. No matter how many times I would click on the "ignore" button, they would still try to get me to say I like their photography.

You may want to know how I can tell the difference between people who play photographer and are actually photographers. It is really quite easy. First off, a hack photographer always takes their pictures in the same location. At the same time of day. And...use the same poses for EVERYONE they photograph. They may even have a special camera lens that adds sun spots to the picture. Chances are they also just went out and bought a 900 dollar camera, and are looking for a way to recoup their money. I am not going to out any of you who fall into this category, but you know who you are. That is good enough for me.

Oh, and if you want to check out some GOOD photography, check out two of my friends here and here. Oh, and check out her too.

#2 NO ONE GOES TO A SPORTING EVENT TO WATCH A REFEREE OR UMPIRE DO THEIR JOB

Here is a sentence you will never hear at a major sporting event: "Hey Dad, look at that umpire!! Isn't he great?? Look at how many times he waved his hand in the air when he called that pitch a strike!" Or this one: "Did you guys see how awesome that ref called a late technical foul on the away team, and made the home team win? I want to grow up and be a referee!" You see, you won't ever hear them, because nobody cares about the refs. Unless they mess up. Then you chase them out of the stadium.

#3 OLIVES, AVOCADOS, EGG SALAD SANDWICHES, CHOCOLATE MOUSSE, CIGARETTES, AND PEOPLE WHO FART IN ELEVATORS CAUSE CANCER.

Say what you will, but you would be wrong. Each of these things cause cancer. Can I prove it? Probably not. But you just wait and see...one of these days I will be vindicated.

#4 IF THERE IS A WAY TO ABUSE THE WELFARE SYSTEM, SOME DIRT BAG WILL FIGURE IT OUT.

Heck, sometimes they don't even need to figure it out...the state will do it for them. Case in point: The other day I was at the grocery store. There was this little Hispanic lady ahead of me in the register line. While the cashier was scanning her items, I saw her take a can of pineapple off the conveyor belt and hand it to the cashier.

Right after I saw this, I realized that I had forgotten to grab a bag of ice. I ran back to get the ice, and while doing so I had decided I would give the lady a dollar so she could also buy the can of pineapple. When I returned with my ice the lady had finished with her purchase. I was just about to pull a buck out of my wallet to give to her when she grabbed the can and handed it to the cashier, and explained to the cashier she wanted to buy the can separately so she could withdrawal another 40 dollars CASH FROM HER FOOD STAMP DEBIT CARD!

WHAT??

Yes, you read that right. She was using her food card, the card that our tax dollars pay for so she can provide FOOD for her family while times are tough and she was getting CASH BACK with it! I was floored. But not as floored as I was 10 seconds later when the cashier informed this bottom feeder that, "You don't have to only get 40 dollars cash each time. You can take that card to customer service and cash the whole thing out for a small fee." At this point I threw up in my mouth. Gross, but not as gross as the scene I just witnessed.

So if you are following along, the state of Washington allows people who use the food stamp program to treat it as their own personal ATM. Was this lady going to go out and buy drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes with her newly found wealth? Probably not, but what was going to stop her? Obviously the state of Washington wasn't going to stop her. I don't mean to sound heartless (After all, I was going to BUY the stinkin' pineapple for her wasn't I???) but this is one of the reasons why our welfare system doesn't work. One of my favorite quotes come from Benjamin Franklin about poverty. It goes like this: "I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it." Well said Ben. Well said indeed.

#5 NEVER BUY A CAR MADE BY DAEWOO. OR A PONTIAC AZTEC FOR THAT MATTER.

Daewoo may mean "Great Universe" in Korean, but the only thing great about driving one of these autos is the amount of hospital bills you are going to have to pay when you get in a wreck with one of these things. They make that 1990 Hyundai Excel that your neighbor's teenager drives look like a Rolls Royce. I have seen cardboard boats that will stand up better than a Daewoo would. And if you happen to own a Daewoo? I suggest driving it off a cliff, claiming it was stolen, and get your 250 dollar check from insurance.

And then we have the Pontiac Aztec. Talk about an ugly car. I have seen steaming piles of dog poop that are better looking than one of those bad boys. And then CBS gave one to Richard Hatch when he won the first survivor. I am 100 percent convinced that Richard Hatch forgot to pay his taxes on that cool million he won because he was too busy trying to get that poor excuse of a car out of his driveway and into someone else's. Word on the street is the only deal on the table for it was a straight across trade for a 1996 Daewoo Espero.

Oh by the way...does anyone have an idea who owns Daewoo? I do! None other than GM, the same company that owned Pontiac.

#6 KENNEWICK IS FAR SUPERIOR TO RICHLAND (AND PASCO) IN EVERY WAY.

Seeing as how this is a local fact, you who live outside of the Tri-Cities won't know what I am talking about. But that is OK, because if you ever choose to visit, you will know where to stay when you come.

Seeing as how I have lived in multiple places in both cities, I think I am pretty knowledgeable on why Richland sucks and Kennewick rules. Just to list a few:

• Everything in Richland is closed by 8 p.m.
• If you are caught in Richland by the cops after 8 p.m., they will pull you over and want to know "what you are doing out of the house so late." They will then proceed to tell you that if anything happens in "their" city that night you will be directly responsible.
• There is nowhere good to go out to dinner. Sure, there are places to eat, but since they are closed by 8 it rules dinner out.
• The water in Richland tastes horrible. It reminds me of when Marty asks his great great great Grandfather for a glass of water in Back to the Future Part 3, and he gets a cup of brown water. (Oops, I forgot to add it to my list of things that cause cancer.)
• All the streets have names, and there are no directions (N, S, E, W) on the street signs. Say what you will about Kennewick and how their streets keep the same name even when they are cut off by another street, but trying to find something in Richland is near impossible if you are new to the area. Take Cottonwood Drive. That road goes in a figure 8, then loops over the top of two other roads, then looks like it has turned into another road due to the fact there are no Cottonwood signs to be seen for about 5 blocks. Don't believe me? Go take a drive on it and see for yourself. And if you ever make it back home, shoot me off a comment and let me know what you think.
• Everyone in Richland think they live in a great city, and have no idea that it sucks. (Sounds kind of like Texas doesn't it?)

#7 NO MATTER HOW YOU TRY TO SPIN IT, NASCAR IS BORING TO WATCH. SO IS

BOWLING. AND NO, THEY ARE NOT ATHLETES. OH YEAH, THEY AREN'T SPORTS EITHER.

I have heard it all before. I have people tell me that I just have to go to a NASCAR event in person and I will change my mind. I have heard that the drivers are athletes because it take endurance to sit in a car that long and do what they do. Sorry folks, but the answer to both of those are "no" and "no." Saying that race car drivers are athletes is like saying that bowlers are athletes. I will admit that bowling and driving takes skill, but just because something takes skill doesn't make it a sport. Just because bowlers and NASCAR drivers wear uniforms doesn't mean they are athletes. I believe that Jim Rome put it best when he said that making 500 left turns does not qualify you as an athlete. And just because bowlers wear those fancy wrist things, it does not make it a sport. It is a skill.

#8 RED VINES ARE NOT LICORICE! LICORICE IS A FLAVOR, NOT A COLOR!

Aw forget it...I don't feel like rehashing one of my biggest pet peeves again. Instead please go back and read this post...it will explain everything.

Well, there you have it. I have many more facts such as these, but seeing as how I really want to get a post in, I am going to end the list here. Now that you have the facts, go forth out into the world and educate the ignorant. Good luck. You are going to need it.