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.