Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
2nd Mullet From the Right
It's that time of year folks - the time of year when Moms and Grandmas all across the nation start digging out their favorite ugly Christmas sweaters, and start sporting them all around town. Now I know we have freedom in fashion in the US, but really there are some clothing items that should only be worn in the privacy of one's home.
I'm not someone who is pro government regulation, but when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters, I wish the government would intervene. The fashion industry is simply not doing its job in shielding the public eye from obnoxious holiday wear. If anything, they are encouraging it, or at least Martha Stewart is.
And to make matters worse, ugly Christmas sweaters have been popularized by the youth of America. Ugly Christmas sweaters are encouraged, and sometimes mandatory dress code at today's holiday parties. Somehow our society has gone so downhill that the college kid with the ugliest sweater is the coolest guy at the frat party. Certainly this fashion disaster isn't as bad as what transpired in the 80s, but even still - ugly Christmas sweaters, you are not cool.
Why I bring this up is because I went to my first Christmas party of the season last night - and well, lots of ugly Chrismas sweaters were present - lots of adultsized holiday onesies too, actually (which is a whole other matter that I don't want to get into.)
But a component of this party that I had never heard of before is the awkward family photo wall. Instructions were stated in the invite to bring an awkward family photo to the party, and that there would be winner for the most awkward family photo.
And well, there is lot to that I could say about awkward family photos...
But for now, I'll simply encouarge you to check out a sight that I just stumbled upon this evening
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/
One of my favorite pics, is the one with the caption, "My Brother-in-Law, Norbert (second mullet from right), is a semi-professional bowler and used to bowl in many different state/national leagues and tournaments. This photo was taken at the big Las Vegas National Bowling Stadium Championship Tournament back in 1985. This was the man and this was his team and they didn’t mess around.”
I'm not someone who is pro government regulation, but when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters, I wish the government would intervene. The fashion industry is simply not doing its job in shielding the public eye from obnoxious holiday wear. If anything, they are encouraging it, or at least Martha Stewart is.
And to make matters worse, ugly Christmas sweaters have been popularized by the youth of America. Ugly Christmas sweaters are encouraged, and sometimes mandatory dress code at today's holiday parties. Somehow our society has gone so downhill that the college kid with the ugliest sweater is the coolest guy at the frat party. Certainly this fashion disaster isn't as bad as what transpired in the 80s, but even still - ugly Christmas sweaters, you are not cool.
Why I bring this up is because I went to my first Christmas party of the season last night - and well, lots of ugly Chrismas sweaters were present - lots of adultsized holiday onesies too, actually (which is a whole other matter that I don't want to get into.)
But a component of this party that I had never heard of before is the awkward family photo wall. Instructions were stated in the invite to bring an awkward family photo to the party, and that there would be winner for the most awkward family photo.
And well, there is lot to that I could say about awkward family photos...
But for now, I'll simply encouarge you to check out a sight that I just stumbled upon this evening
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/
One of my favorite pics, is the one with the caption, "My Brother-in-Law, Norbert (second mullet from right), is a semi-professional bowler and used to bowl in many different state/national leagues and tournaments. This photo was taken at the big Las Vegas National Bowling Stadium Championship Tournament back in 1985. This was the man and this was his team and they didn’t mess around.”
Friday, December 3, 2010
Stealing Baseball Cards
"Well, you can come to church with me sometime if you'd like."
I extended the invitation, thinking that she might actually accept.
"It's not Catholic - is it?" She inquired.
"No."
"Oh good." She expressed her relief and then explained, "Catholics have lots of things to do at church..."
I laughed because having grown up in a not too distant liturgical denomination, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Standing up, sitting down, kneeling, repeating a few words here, reading a group prayer there - Catholics do have lots of things to do at church.
I'd go on, but I'm writing yet another paper for grad school (and I have lots of things to do), so instead of new words, here is yet another old blurb:
My Catholic friend Tom, no relation to MySpace Tom, once told me that he use to lie quite a bit as a kid - but only to his priest. His parents insisted that he go to confession at least once a week, but Tom rarely had any “good” sins to confess, so instead he would make stuff up and lie to the priest about things he hadn’t done – like hitting his brother and stealing baseball cards from his friends. Each time the priest absolved his “sins” Tom would walk away from the confessional booth feeling guilty for having lied to the nice man behind the screen. As one song writer once put it, “Isn’t it ironic. Don’t you think?”
A few years ago I decided to become Catholic – but only for a month.
I extended the invitation, thinking that she might actually accept.
"It's not Catholic - is it?" She inquired.
"No."
"Oh good." She expressed her relief and then explained, "Catholics have lots of things to do at church..."
I laughed because having grown up in a not too distant liturgical denomination, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Standing up, sitting down, kneeling, repeating a few words here, reading a group prayer there - Catholics do have lots of things to do at church.
I'd go on, but I'm writing yet another paper for grad school (and I have lots of things to do), so instead of new words, here is yet another old blurb:
My Catholic friend Tom, no relation to MySpace Tom, once told me that he use to lie quite a bit as a kid - but only to his priest. His parents insisted that he go to confession at least once a week, but Tom rarely had any “good” sins to confess, so instead he would make stuff up and lie to the priest about things he hadn’t done – like hitting his brother and stealing baseball cards from his friends. Each time the priest absolved his “sins” Tom would walk away from the confessional booth feeling guilty for having lied to the nice man behind the screen. As one song writer once put it, “Isn’t it ironic. Don’t you think?”
A few years ago I decided to become Catholic – but only for a month.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Do You Trust Me?
As Princess Jasmine stood on the balcony, Aladdin reached out his hand an asked the question, "Do you trust me?"
Jasmine, at first, was skeptical and hesitant of Aladdin and his magical carpet.
But there was something comforting and familiar about his voice, so she considered the invitation to join him.
Do you trust me?
"Do I trust him?" She pondered.
Aladdin was asking her to risk, and to go on an adventure she wasn't sure she wanted to go on. She internally argued that it was safer to just to stay put on the balcony. After all, life on the balcony wasn't all that bad - except, well, it seemed to be missing something. And there was an insistence inside of her that told her that there had to be more.
Aladdin patiently waited for her to response.
Do you trust me?
Finally she placed her hand in his and said, "Yes. I trust you."
The thing is, Jesus asks everyone that very same question...
Do
you
trust
me?
Yesterday I met up with someone who decided to take that step of faith and say "yes, I trust you." She's on the carpet and I couldn't be more thrilled.
Jasmine, at first, was skeptical and hesitant of Aladdin and his magical carpet.
But there was something comforting and familiar about his voice, so she considered the invitation to join him.
Do you trust me?
"Do I trust him?" She pondered.
Aladdin was asking her to risk, and to go on an adventure she wasn't sure she wanted to go on. She internally argued that it was safer to just to stay put on the balcony. After all, life on the balcony wasn't all that bad - except, well, it seemed to be missing something. And there was an insistence inside of her that told her that there had to be more.
Aladdin patiently waited for her to response.
Do you trust me?
Finally she placed her hand in his and said, "Yes. I trust you."
The thing is, Jesus asks everyone that very same question...
Do
you
trust
me?
Yesterday I met up with someone who decided to take that step of faith and say "yes, I trust you." She's on the carpet and I couldn't be more thrilled.
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