So I’ve changed my look a bit. I’ve always been someone who didn’t care what I looked like (and I still don’t). I went through a phase as a senior in high school where I only wore white undershirts. It was great. I could be a complete slob when I ate and it did not even matter ’cause I could just bleach it. When I lived in Lubbock I only wore pajama pants and stained or ripped tshirts, and velcro shoes from Walmart. My wife, however, has helped me turn a corner. Apparently people make assumptions about you based on how you look! So I’ve decided to help them make a better judgment of me. Rather than thinking that I’m a “white trash slob” (as true as that may be) I’m now shooting for an average northwesterner.
Anyway, everything I’ve said to this point is superfluous. For my real reason for writing is to show you some pictures of what people have said that I look like…in a few days I’ll try to post some pictures of different points in my life where I may or may not fit the description…

First of all, I think that with my new goatee I look like Mr. Tumnus.

Do I raise you up? Here’s the bad news, the most common thing I get at work is Josh Groban! Sucks for me.

With my goatee I’ve heard a few shaggy comparisons. I think thats a good one ’cause I do enjoy a scooby snack every once in a while. And by scooby snacks I mean The Pot.

Jess’ grandma yesterday said I looked like Van Gogh…what?

And if I were to be honest I think that I not only look like Mr. Tumnus, I’m more of a blend of the faun and the Italian stallion…but thats just me.

This video makes me happy for two reasons. First, because it’s so true and so very sad. Secondly, because it reminds me of how pathetic those darn english are. “Hey English people, remember those world wars…well, you’re welcome! And you’re still horible at football!”

Don’t forget to read my previous post. I think it’s a good one, and I don’t claim to have many of those!

I’ve written this post once. It’s gone now. Thanks Jones. I love you. I shall now try to recreate what was already written…crap.

I want to pretend, pretend professionally that is. Yes, I want to be a professional pretender. Seriously. It’s the best job I can think of. You get paid millions just to pretend to be someone else. What an awesome gig. I mean, if the Muppet Babies were real, they would be millionaires ’cause they sure could pretend well. Pretenders represent everything that we want. Leisure, popularity, looks. We don’t simply give them their credit for pretending to be someone else. No, instead we put them on our desktops, on our blogs, and we even hang them from our walls. We buy magazine after magazine to see what they wear, how they do their hair, and whose having the latest affair. We talk about them as we would speak of an aunt or second cousin. They’re family. No, they aren’t family, they are greater than family, they are actors, models, thespians (even lesbians). They’re pretenders. Professional pretenders. It’s odd isn’t it? It’s odd how we worship pretenders. It’s odd how people will give anything and everything to be one of them. Years ago it was idols made of Gold, wood, and bronze. The Egyptians worshiped Ra, the sun god. The Greeks poured libations before Zeus who rested high on his mountain. American’s look to Paula, Randy, and Simon to find their next idol. We work 60 hours a week so we can spend millions a year watching our beloved thespians on big shiny screens. They are god’s, every one of them. All hail the great and glorious Hollywood! Pour out your libations to those who pretend really ridiculously well! And now, a doxology, to those we honor and love as our Golden Calves of today:

The greatest thing about being old is that you can get away with anything ’cause you’re old!When I’m old what if…

I put all the dishes in the washing machine instead of the dishwasher. Jess would have to buy all plastic dishes. We could use the dishwasher for storage since all our dishes would be washed in the washing machine.

I always walked outside without my pants off. Can you arrest me? Ok, maybe you could. But what if I always sun bathed nude in my backyard. That would be funny. Especially if we only had a chain link fence.

I took out my false teeth whenever I went out in public. And what if I always asked the bathroom attendant or hostess to hold my teeth while I fixed my trousers. If they said no I would just pretend that I didn’t hear them.

I always screamed in public “I think I just defecated in my pants!” (the sad part is that I’ve experienced this at a local hospital).

I refused to sit on furniture because I was sure that the furniture makers were all Communists. “I’m not going to let those damn commies support my body with their furniture!”

I only ate Chicken fried steak. Every day. Until I died. For some reason I don’t think this one is too far from the truth.

I always pronounced words wrong. Like for the word ‘public’ I said “poob-lick”. Or for ‘booger’ I said “boggers” or…the list could go on and on really.

What if…

My church meets at an elementary school. Here are two things that make me say “what the?” with regards to that fact:

1. We paid some dude to make us some good looking signage so that people on the street could say “hey, there are 50 signs for churches on this street and I don’t want to go to any of them ’cause I hate God…oh wait, wow, look at that sign. I need to be baptized.” Well, there were a few small mistakes that the signage dude made. These small mistakes added up to us being a little bit upset: small arrows, messed up logo, words that read renovatus church of christ, etc. But the thing that we just noticed that set us off was that he mis-spelled the word elementary! What the?!?
2. The bathroom in the gym of this elementary school has a sign that says “please do not throw away diapers in the garbage can”…uhh…I know that teenage pregnancy is at an alltime high…but 1st graders? What the?!?