it was everything i dreamt it would be... or was it? his greeness experiences "twilight" the movie for the first time

it's a modern day phenomenom i'd heard. the greatest thing on paper since harry potter they said. every girl, woman and man whose wife requested that he read the book had read the book. everyone was doing it. at times i felt like i was missing out on something... depriving myself of something that maybe i deserved. afterwall, it was natural, if by natural you mean that there's nothing natural about learning to read, write, type, invent computers, printing presses and then mass distribute a fictional story.

of course i'd received offers and solicitations to read the book or see the movie from people, but i turned them all down... i was saving my viewing of twilight for someone special... someone i'd want to watch twilight with for the rest of my life. and who other than mrs. greeness? she was the one for me. from the minute i saw her staying up until two in the morning reading twilight and barely able to function the next day because she was so tired, i knew i would spend the rest of my twilight reading and viewing days with such a woman, although i'm not sure she did at first.

it took some time, i wasn't about to open up the twilight shop for just anyone. i played coy to keep her interested... she'd ask me to read twilight on occasion and i'd turn her down even though deep down inside i wanted to read it just as badly as she wanted me to. eventually she suggested that our relationship was mature enough to move on to that next level... the twilight level. in a way i felt ready, but at the same time i felt a little confused... "how do i know she's the 'one'?", i would ask myself. "how did my dad know? my mom was the one he wanted to see twilight with?", i thought.

i'd ask all my guy friends at work about it and we'd spend hours giggling over how romantic it would be to sip hot cider in front of a warm fireplace gazing into the eyes of our significant other in some rain forest in oregon as we watched twilight together. i pictured it in my mind over and over... i wanted everything to be perfect for my first viewing. i even talked to a few of the more "experienced" people at the office who had already had some casual twilight viewings with other people just to get some different perspectives and make sure i'd covered all my bases.

still, i wanted to wait until i felt ready, maybe until we could formalize the viewing of the movie with some kind of ceremony just so we would realize the significance of the commitment. but i nearly called things off when i found out that aim had actually already seen the movie with some other people. i won't lie, that hurt... at first i wasn't even sure i could view twilight with someone who had already seen it with someone else... and in the theater nonetheless!

we talked a lot about this... in fact, we nearly decided to never view nor speak of twilight together again, but aim admitted to me that her previous viewing of twilight meant nothing to her, that it was just some dumb thing she was doing to fit in with the in-crowd. in fact, she assured me that even though she had viewed twilight with other people while she was viewing it she was thinking of me the entire time. i wasn't convinced though.

but the way that aimee pleaded with me again and again, over and over... and she was so sweet about it. she'd buy me flowers and chocolates, she'd open the door for me, ask me for my opinion, pay for dinner... she was the perfect lady. she was so adorable in how she courted me i couldn't help but give in and so i promised her the first weekend the movie came out on dvd, we would watch it together... i was ready. she and i, together... and edward and bella, as well as some other vampires, werewovels, and dorky oregonians. what more could a guy ask for for his first viewing of twilight?

at last the night arrived... it felt like ages had passed, but, no matter, it was here and we were about to take one of the most important steps in our relationship ever... i mean it... ever. at first it was a little awkward. i tried to impress aim by setting up a new receiver for our surround sound so she could see that this meant a lot to me. i thought i had it all planned out perfectly, but something was wrong with the dvd player and the picture was in black and white. i was a little frustrated and embarrassed, but aim took control of the situation, and soon enough, the movie was playing in color and it was beautiful.

just like edward and bella, the two of us leaned back into the freshly vaccumed carpet of our cozy loft and got lost in each other's gaze... i think my eyes even changed colors. aim told me she didn't have the strength to resist me anymore and then said one of the most romantic things i have ever heard... she said "you're (meaning me) like my own personal brand of crystal meth." i melted like rock in a crack pipe. i was all hers. she had me at "crystal."

with that, we started the movie and once the initial strangeness of the black and white dvd and people sucking blood out of other people because they either want to kill and eat them or because they unequivocally love them enough to want them to live forever all while some kind of age old blood feud with an indian tribe of werewolves is starting to boil up, i was able to relax and get through the movie. i enjoyed it, but it didn't quite live up to everything i'd heard about... i had to wonder, "is this really the twilight i'd heard so much about all my life? it must get better with the books.

after it was over i was ready to cuddle up with aim and talk about our experience of viewing the movie. i wanted to communicate and let her know how it made me feel, but all of sudden aim wasn't as interested in me as she was before the viewing, but it was late, so we jumped into bed and i started to ask her some of the burning questions i now had on my mind:

"so, is that james guy gone? does he show up in the other books?"

"what about the black vampire? does he show up again?"

"when do the werewolves come out to play"

but all my inquiries were met with short grunts and an "i'm tired and i'm going to bed" type attitude. i felt a little alone. i wasn't sure where aimee the perfect lady had gone. i guess it was past her bedtime. as such, i was left to sit and quietly ponder over the greater mysteries of the profound storyline behind the enigmatic twilight. in all fairness to aim, she'd had a late night the night before, i just thought the twilight night would be different.

in all seriousness, it exceeded my expectations, i guess, (how can i not at least respect a movie that ends with radiohead?) but i didn't read the book. i'm already dreaming about new moon. i think i'll stick with aim for that one... she's good to me.

this is a green blog: capital letters are elitist and so am i

today i post the post i meant to post last week on saint patrick's day, but couldn't. i didn't have time... i was too busy gazing at a picture of aimee on the wall of a local walmart. for this i apologize, but for the new me that came about as a result of my preoccupation, i feel no remorse.

right now i'm guessing that you're about as confused as the little girl on jameson's baseball team who was bewilderment personified when coach pete explained that all players needed to have a cup on in order to play in the upcoming season opener. furrowed brow. squinty eyes. i wasn't about to explain... i'm just an assistant coach.

but, rest easy my blog zombies, all will soon unfold before your very eyes and you will see more clearly than you ever have before.

allow me to explain. it all started in the belly of the beast: walmart. as i sat in that seedy pit of commercial pittance for the twelth straight hour staring into the first photogrphic wonder of the world, i had somewhat of an out of body experience. and as i drifted away from my body through the strategically organized aisles of the great and spacious, i saw walmart in a way i never had before. i was sickened. i felt dirty. i felt taken advantage of... and it was all sam walton's fault. the low prices that surrounded me, the bargains, the deals, they smothered me in a way that made me want to pay more for my breyer's natural vanilla ice cream. why? why? why?



what's worse is that all these savings were the result of child labor in some far off land. how could i live with myself knowing the innocent children who weaved the very fibers of the new sham-wow i'd bought were robbed of a bright and promising future in the fast-paced world of child prostitution or some other honorable profession like being the secretary in a local street gang? tears of remorse streamed down my face and onto the blood diamonds that laced my wedding ring and my nike tennis shoes. i was engulfed with regret.

this has to change and it has to change now, i thought to myself. it was then that i decided: from this day forward i am a political activist... civil disobedience is my middle name (don't worry, mom, kenneth is still there, too, i am just going to hyphenate my middle names, plus i am going to take on your maiden name as well as both of my grandmother's maiden names... please help, i can't stop). the man will fear me. corporate america will fear me. people who work for a living will hate me. people who pay their bills will despise me.

i vow to turn the establishment on its head. i will blend in with the common man during the day, but i will dine at only the most exquisite restaurants and stay at the finest resorts at night when the smelly funny looking food 4 less mutants aren't around... and i'll be able to afford it all by writing a book or something that i won't have to pay taxes on because i'll demand that someone else does. i'll carry on the legacy of al sharpton and reverend jackson with my head held high. my parents will be proud.

here's how i will accomplish my agenda:

1. no more typing my blog posts in lower case letters. regardless of what i said above, i'm really no longer a man of the people... i am above them. the symbolism that my lower case letters stood for is no more.

2. i am moving to summerlot. i mean, hey, it's summerlot, 'nuff said.

3. i will make sure it's known that this is a green blog so i can increase readership... not because i actually care about the environment, but because being green is dang popular right now and i am going to take it down all the way to chinatown... even if i have to get kids in china to type my posts in every known language of the universe, i will do it because being able to put a sticker on my blog that says "green blog" is worth way more to me than their childhoods are worth to them. you've got a problem with that? i'm sure there are plenty of non-green blogs out there... be my guest you green hater. besides, who commands the fastest growing going green blog in the world, me or them? i'll give you a hint, it's not them.

i absolutely have to conform to the populist mentality by overusing the word "absolutely" and going green. everyone who's anyone is absolutely green these days. green is absolutely the new black. i don't even know what that means, but what i do know is that the celtics are the reigning nba champs and they have green uniforms. absolutely! i'm not a fan of the celtics, but they're green so they're my brothers in the cause.

and, in the infinitely wise words of his holiness kermit the frog: "it's not easy being green" or conversely as the omniscient yoda would expound: "much easier to be green it is, when the most powerful jedi ever you are." as you've probably guessed, i'm more a student of the yoda school of green than the kermit school of green, but whatever.





so, take note. like i said, i meant to post this post last week on st patrick's day... the greenest day of the year. that's a great start. next, check out the underlying template of the blog: that's right, it's green. and the shirt i'm wearing in the pic on the blog? green. caleb's shirt? green, again. my eyes? how about green ... bingo. oh, and did i mention that jameson's shirt is green, too? if only aim had the prophetic forsight we did when we posed for the picture... black? seriously? black power is so early 90's and this is the late zeros... what kind of political activist are you, babe? answer: the kind that is postered all over one wall of one walmart... she can do whatever she wants and its cool.

in closing, i must point out that my favorite color is green (and brown, too, but that doesn't open up markets for me like green does so let's keep it on the down lower) and green lantern is at least one of my top three favorite super heros. there. i would love to say "suck it" here, but that wouldn't be prudent for a member of the upper urban haute bourgeoisie like myself, so instead i will simply and arrogantly say "take that you scoundrel!" without even looking you in the eyes.

based on all of this empirical evidence, one can only logically conclude that this is easily the greenest blog on the internet and that means a lot given the inventor of the internet... he would be proud of me. however, if all of my green efforts are not sufficient for you jaded cynics, then i will make one last sacrifice that not many are willing to make: i will officially change my blog nickname from "blogmaster" to "his greeness" for the time being. not many would do this. i will... for you, my little greenies.

keep on fighting the good fight and by fight i don't actually mean fight, i just mean shout, point fingers, accuse and make someone else do all the dirty work for you.

your non-greenless leader,

his greeness

"better here than hooters": aim graces the walls of walmart

we have arrived.

the day we all knew was coming is finally here... my wife is pretty much a supermodel.

it wasn't easy.

it required months, if not years, of telling people that we purchase organic food from whole foods, trader joes, and albertsons (not necessarily in that order) to develop the diet of a supermodel, spending countless hours and dollars at sears perfecting aim's money look at the glamour shots photo booth, and lots and lots of yoga to clear her mind and ease her conscience to prevent unsightly wrinkles from forming and help her get in touch with her socially acceptable spiritual side since organized religion spirituality is so uncool. yoga also taught her all these words in some exotic foreign language, all of which add to her visual mystique if she kind of squints her eyes when she says them.

like i said, it wasn't easy, but it was definitely worth it.

i'm sure you've already heard, or even seen, for yourselves, that mrs. blogmaster has made her way onto the walls of walmart. it's been difficult to get into the stores lately because of this new and highly popular attraction, but believe me this is something you will want to tell your grandkids about. even the hardcore idealists who have boycotted walmart in favor of target to protest corporate america are banging down the doors to see the pic.

let this be a story of hope and inspiration to all women out there who once had dreams of being a supermodel.., yes, you can... be a supermodel, too. even if you've had 3 kids. even if you don't starve yourself to death and use illicit substances to maintain a wild and crazy lifestyle. all it takes is some initiative and a friend who knows someone who takes stock photos for a living, and the world of being a supermodel is all yours.

now, i can't promise that you'll all end up on the walls of walmart... i mean, c'mon, it's walmart... and it's one of walmart's walls... the flippin' store is named after walls... not just any supermodel can end up on one of walmart's hallowed walls. you've got to have the look that mrs. blogmaster apparently has. so, don't get your heads too far into the clouds 'cause for every walmart wall supermodel there's a dozen "enter zipcode here" magazine or thrifty nickel models, which are both well respected publications, but, hey, let's not kid ourselves, they aren't walmart tire center walls.

i kid. i jest. well, kind of. aim is on the walls of walmart... at least in las vegas... at least on one wall and, as far as we know, in one walmart, so i would appreciate it if you would all go into the automotive section of your local walmart to see if aim is in a picture on the wall putting colston into his carseat (like the one above) and report back. the picture is crazy beautiful. it's sexy, cutting edge stuff, maybe kind of wierd and too moderny artsy kind of stuff for some of you, but dang sexy nonetheless. i'll let you be the judge.

i personally think aim could have shown a bit more attitude in the photo. you know, she could have released her inner tiger some, maybe a growl, maybe a paw thrash... but what do i know, i'm just a semi-professional blogger. aim thinks her backside looks a little big in the shot, but i told her not to fret, walmart's photoshop people are all over that. i blame it on the photographer. fortunately, we won't be having that problem in the future since we'll have our pick of the litter from here on out.

aim's parents saw the photo spread for the first time a few days ago. i don't think they were ready for it. aim's dad reluctanlty admitted that it was "better there than hooters." i think aim's mom was confused. that wasn't the daughter she raised. they should have known... vegas will do that to you. i think they'll come around though, they are accepting people.

as for the future, we're expecting an "aim on the walls" of walmart clothing line, perfume line, and figure she'll be hosting multiple parties at various nightclubs here in town, so we may not have time for a lot of you. don't you worry though blog zombies, our newfound stardom will have no affect on my blogging abilities. it would take a lot more than my wife becoming a world famous supermodel who'll be recognized and idolized by the massess to deter me from my blogging loyalties. plus, you all got in on ground zero, so i won't turn my back on you, not now... not when you need me most. we'll keep it real.

i know times are tough with the economy and all and that this blog is all some of you have to look forward to each and every day. i'll be here for you. i am a man of the people. i wander among you. i eat at taco bell with you (i'm the one ordering the tostada, bean burrito and chicken soft taco). if you were to see me on the streets, you'd most likely not even know it was me unless you recognized me and wanted to get a picture with me or an autograph or something... just for the record, i'm fine with that, but it doesn't really matter since you most likely won't know it's me.

my point is, i'm not too famous for you now. no matter how many times i'm on the cover of people magazine (even if it's because we just had a kid and they wan't to publish some of the baby photos), no matter how many times i host snl, no matter how many days in a row i wear a different pair of true religion jeans, no matter how many of my kids i send to private school (i might even pay double the tuition or enroll them at multiple schools just for the fun of it), no matter how many suvs i buy (hybrid, of course... we're green), no matter how many people i get in my pyramid scheme downline based solely on my popularity, no matter how many times extra does an exclusive on mrs. blogmaster and me, even if they start calling aim and me "jeraimee", i will not turn my back on you, my faithful blog zombies.

thing is, i just hope we can all still relate seeing as how aim and i are pretty much celebrities now.

babe, i'm sorry... in an hbo kind of way

apology

a*pol"o*gy\, n.; pl. Apologies. [L. apologia, Gr. ?; ? from + ?: cf. F. apologie. See Apologetic.]

an acknowledgment intended as an atonement for some improper or injurious remark or act; an admission to another of a wrong or discourtesy done him, accompanied by an expression of regret.

atonement

a·tone·ment

satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends.

for those of you who haven't heard all the hub-bub about hbo airing one of the mormon temple ceremonies performed in, you guessed it, the temple, here's a link you should read, study, and ponder over to put this post in context: http://news.yahoo.com/s/eonline/20090311/en_tv_eo/103779

here are some choice excerpts from hbo's apology:

Obviously, it was not our intention to do anything disrespectful to the church, but to those who may be offended, we offer our sincere apology.

apparently, in hbo-think it is ok to do things that may be offensive to people so long as you don't intend to offend these people and then offer a "sincere" apology for presumably offending them.

In approaching the dramatization of the endowment ceremony, we knew we had a responsibility to be completely accurate and to show the ceremony in the proper context and with respect.

We therefore took great pains to depict the ceremony with the dignity and reverence it is due.

so, if you're accurate and reverent in protraying something which someone might consider to be offensive upon broadcasting to the world, your apology receives additional validation. i'm sure my wife won't mind if i do an up-close and personal interview session on camera of her giving birth to our next child (assuming we have another one) and then make it available to pretty much everyone who wants to see it as long as i'm accurate and reverent about it. and just for the record, the delivery most likely won't be a c-section.

and then, to top it all off, in spite of hbo's "apology",which generally connotes remorse or regret, which words generally imply ceasinng the behavior that gave reason to apologize, hbo aired the episode anyway.

as caleb once told me, "sorry doesn't cut it, dad!" which means that just saying sorry isn't enough, there needs to be a change in behavior. or as elvis would sing, "a little less conversation, a little more action." or as i say, and i say it often, "hbo, it is laughable that you consider saying "sorry" a valid apology for committing a complete affront to an entire religion but then go forward with the airing of the show. seriously. if i subscribed to your station, i would tell you i'm sorry that my cancelling of your subsription might offend you and then cancel it anyway because i feel so bad about it."

here's the thing, showing the temple ceremony on tv is troublesome to me; however, it's already on the internet and stuff like this was bound to happen whatwithall this information super highway stuff. i've only seen parts of a couple of shows of big love and thought it was pretty boring, nothing like the fast-paced, attention grabbing, constantly entertaining lives that real mormons lead. fine, if that's how you choose to entertain yourself, more power to you... in fact, you should consider coming to church to further enhance the experience. what's really amusing to me, though, is that hbo acknowledges it is doing something offensive and even apologizes for it, but then goes ahead and committs the offensive behavior anyway. nice.

it's also funny to me that mormons are calling for a boycott of hbo since i know only a couple of mormons who even subscribe to hbo. we'll get them where it really counts: in the pocketbook.

actually, i kind of like where hbo's head is at... perhaps there's some silver lining in all this insensitivity and just like it says in the book of mormon: where God closes a door, he opens a window (actually, it doesn't say that).

so, here's what i'm thinking, going forward, i plan to incorporate hbo's method of apologizing in my everyday life. this is a timely decision seeing as how i have been in hot water all week after having fallen short in many of the most important areas of husbandry (did you like how i implied that this is not a common occurrence and only happened last week?).

for starters, the other night, i failed to change colston's diaper while aim was out. this sparked an argument of herculean proportions between us lovebirds during which i failed to realize if i'd only said "aim, i'm sorry for offending you with my actions, but i didn't intend to offend, i apologize, and my failure to change the diaper was in fact an accurate failure as i researched mightily the inaction of changing a diaper and approached the act of omission with great reverence. you cannot possibly be mad at me. oh, and by the way, babe, i'm still not changing the diaper."

that's frustrating seeing as how i would have been able to get a lot more sleep had i dropped that line.

then there was satruday when aim ran in a half-marathon. she stayed at a hotel close to the starting point the night before. i stayed at home with the kids and planned to be at the end of the run with the kids as she approached the finish line in slow motion with chariots of fire playing in the background so we could embrace fervently and kiss passionately until i started to taste the salty residue of her sweaty lips and get a little grossed out. i digress.

the point is that the boys and i overslept and weren't there to see the above play out as i had only dreamt so many times in mind. i felt pretty bad. the boys wanted to be there and i wanted to kiss some sweaty lips... none of us got our wish, but, hey, salty lips can be recreated fairly easily, crossing the finish line of a half-marathon only happens when a city schedules a half-marathon and aimee runs in it. this has only happened twice in our eleven years of marriage.

anyway, i felt pretty bad as we drove to the site of the finish line. i cried a little inside which is really kind of nifty since you don't have to cry at all and look weak, or get all red-eyed, but still get the benefit of having told everyone you cried which prompts them to see you as a sensitive person. and who doesn't like a sensitive man? what i now realize though, is that i don't even have to say that i cried inside anymore when i can just offer an insincere apology.

so, with that, aim, i apologize for being late to the marathon. i am sorry if i have offended you, but i researched arriving late to marathons... and believe me, that is as accurate of a late arrival to a marathon as you will ever see. plus we all arrived with our arms folded and we weren't talking, erego we were reverent about it. this being the case, you are obligated to withhold any anger and frustration you may feel toward me. you cannot hold this against me for i have issued a sincere insincere hbo apology and have no intention of being punctual in the future.

wow. i feel as though this post has been revolutionary and will certainly go down in the voluminous annals of landmark posts from the cooper five. many of you will look back on the day that you read this post as the day you quit having a conscience or any semblance of sensitivity. won't it be great? no one can ever be offended again and even if they are, we don't have to do anything differently since we can just say "sorry" and not change behavior.

so, with that, i apologize, folks. that's just the way it's going to be from here on out. actually, i'm not sorry at all. deal with it.

cute: such an adorably dangerous word

as i recently made note of, i have, on occasion, said things that were well intended upon vocalization, but ended up doing more harm than good. one word i have learned to use with an extreme amount of caution is the word "cute."

"cute" is a dangerous word for myriad reasons. i will discuss of few of them herein.

first off, straight men really shouldn't use the word "cute" as part of their everyday parlance (it's ok for a straight guy to use the word "parlance," wear speedos and get pedicures, but not use the word "cute") or at least only do so with extreme caution. it just doesn't feel right and it makes everyone within the sound of the man using the word's voice uncomfortable upon hearing it. furthermore, it does little in instilling confidence in those whom men claim to protect (ie, wife and children). as a general rule, i try not to use the word unless i am quoting someone and only then do i use it if i am able to hold up my hands and make those little quotation mark things with my fingers so it is absolutely clear that i am not using my own words. call me a cute-aphobe if you want... doesn't even phase me.

having said that, sometimes it is very difficult for me not to use the word "cute" because sometimes "cute" is just the best word to use... and i don't take word usage lightly. unfortunately, my pride is generally stronger than my vocabulary and, as such, i forego using the word "cute" in favor of a less accurate word like "adorable." just kidding, "adorable" is just as bad as cute. "it's fine" or "it's good" are usually the non-de-script phrases i end up using. kind of bland and boring, but no one questions my masculinity when they hear them.

besides, early on in my and aim's marriage, aim once asked me how she looked and i said, "not as good as you would without those 15 extra pounds your lugging around." just kidding again. i'm not dumb enough to say that outright like i did there, but apparently i am dumb enough to answer the question "would i look better if i lost 15 pounds?" as i noted in a previous post. well, this time when aim asked me how she looked i said, "you look cute" thinking that i had paid my young wife a nice compliment. when it became clear that she wasn't placed with my assessment of her physical appearance, i inquired as to why the cool reception to my compliment to which she replied "i don't want to look just "cute" damnnit."

i should have known. what woman wants to be thought of as "cute?" not mine (and when i say "mine" i am not implying that i own my wife in any way as if she were a piece of property... i would never objectify my wife like that although that probably wouldn't be nearly as bad a move as calling her "cute"). in fact, i have come to gather that "cute" is essentially a pejorative term when used to describe another female in certain situations. it can practically be used as a safe way to insult someone, like telling someone they look tired instead of just saying "you're not looking so good today, go put on some more make-up and see if that helps (just for the record, i would never say either of these things)."

"cute" connotes cuddly, pig tails, rosy cheeks, patty-cakes, and the like. in fact, i don't even like to be called "cute," not that anyone does call me cute... but my mom does call me "jer-bear" which is practically synonymous with "cute." hearing the name "jer-bear" is like fingers on my machismo chalk-board. when i hear the nick-name "jer-bear" i think of a little boy playing hop-skotch with one of those donald duck hats flopping in the wind.... a far cry from the stone-cold grip of brute man that i have become i'd say. i mean, you've seen my pictures and minus the puffy cheeks, i'd have to admit that i'm pretty manly looking especially after i don't shave for a day or two. plus, how many little skipping boys do you know with an adam's apple like mine? enough the jer-bear nonsense.

but this isn't about me, so back to the topic at hand.


no, my friends, no woman wants to be thought of as cute and cuddly. as best i can tell, women want to be thought of as "hot" or "gorgeous" or "sexy," but not "cute." it's the whole ginger versus mary anne thing strictly from a physical appearance standpoint. some may be alright being called "cute" or "mary anne," but those who are set on being "ginger" want nothing of that "mary anne" nonsense.


in fact, woman like this may as well say another woman is "out of her league" rather than call her "cute" because that is exactly what she is implying. men on the other hand may be able to get away with calling a woman "cute" because we're clueless sometimes, but women can be devious when their cannibalistic instincts kick in... be forewarned.

as a disclaimer, i feel compelled to clarify that this does not apply in every situation. sometimes "cute" can be used in a non-offensive manner. i have heard women use it to describe others without any intent to harm and offend and they pull it off famously, but then there are those of you who use it as crack back... you know who you are... and that's all i have to say about that.

back to the original point: sometimes "cute" is just the right word to use. for instance, today after church we were stacking chairs and i went over to a friend who happened to be a female and jokingly asked her to help out. she politely declined explaining that she couldn't help out because she had heels on as she pointed down to her shoes. i couldn't help but take a gander, and i have to admit, that i was impressed... her shoes were quite, uh, what's the word...

practical? no, they were not one bit practical.

nice? to say they were only nice would be to do them a disservice.

saucy or sassy? probably would have worked, but they didn't come to mind at the time... plus in a church setting, either of these words may have come across as a bit much, well not really, but i'm trying to make this story work with the word "cute."

my point is that "cute" was the perfect word to use to describe the shoes and as i wished to compliment the friend on her fine sense of fashion i struggled within myself for a moment as to whether i should admit to her out loud that i thought they were cute. there can be no doubt that word would quickly get out that brother cooper uses the word "cute" and that coupled with the speedo incident would surely spell out our doom in our congregation's various social circles. was i willing to risk that to use most appropriate language in that given instance? you bet, but i did what any respectable husband would do, i hid behind my wife. not literally, she's not big enough... even if she put on 15 pounds she wouldn't be big enough.

no, i'm talking figuratively here. instead of personally admitting that i thought the shoes were cute, i said something like "wow, jen, look at those! if aim saw those she would say something like 'those shoes are so cute! (emphasis added)'" she then clarified that that is in fact what aimee would say being sure to single out the word "so" as her unique contribution to the compliment since i would probably have just said that they were "cute" and not "so cute" were i man enough to use the word "cute." but, oh well, i accomplished what i intended: i expressed my approval of the friend's shoes while saving face (one carve out of stone i might add, minus the cheeks) by not admitting that the word "cute" is part of my everyday vernacular.

very clever if i might say so myself. if only my mom could have been there... she would have been so proud of her little jer-bear. it was adorable.

the flight of the coopers: 11 years and counting

i thought i should get a jump on this my latest post before tomorrow rolls around seeing as how tomorrow is my and aim's 11th anniversary as a married man and woman. that's right, eleven... and we still haven't had our first argument except that we have had lots of arguments with each other and other people over the course of our blissful marriage (we argue with people indisciminately, not just each other). we like to argue, we'll i do... aim just plays along 'cause she loves me.

generally, i would prefer to drop a post like this on the day of, but since i will be whisking aim off on some wildly romantic dream date for two people who have been married for eleven years tomorrow night, i thought i better get the post out of the way while i still have the strength and stamina.

let me just say that our marriage has been a bit like an experience we had a few years ago while traveling to orlando, florida to see aim's dad put in as the president of this service organization he is a part of. i will recount the experience in three acts, each representing three significant stages of our married life together. i'm not in the mood to draw out the symbolism, so you'll just have to do that on your own. why should i have to do all the work here, blog zombies? i will allow you to make your own inferences. best of luck divining.

act one: the flight of the coopers

when aim's parents informed us that they would be flying us out to orlando for a few days to attend kimbo's inauguration, we got excited. for starters, this was during my first or second of law school (who can remember anymore since they're all a hazy blur in my mind) and when we were living with my parents. i seem to remember us having the entire upstairs all to ourselves, but i also seem to remember there being these two little people always sleeping in our room and following us around. could have been jameson and caleb, but, honestly, who knows anymore?

my point is that privacy was at a premium around the cooper household and even though my parents rarely made it to the nether regions of their house, read: the upstairs (i have literally only seen my dad in the upstairs of his house once in the last ten years and when i did i nearly called national geographic to photograph the event since it felt like a yeti sighting), it still felt like someone was always watching us. put succinctly, one does not realize the importance of privacy until it is hard to come by. needless to say, the thought of spending some time in florida mano y womano sans childreno sounded about as good as _______________ (insert your ultimate guilty pleasure here).

suddenly, we were inspired and had something other than final exams to look forward to and we anxiously awaited the day we would take flight. at last it came, and despite my upbringing by jeff cooper, sr., we were running late to the airport and were checking in luggage.

father, i have failed you.

eventually we get there and start checking in our bags when aimee notices on my itinerary the words "first class." no way, i thought. there must be some mistake seeing as how kim and gaylin booked the flights for us. i mean, i'm a model son-in-law and all, but the forecast in hell wasn't predicting any snowfall that day so it was highly unlikely that they were sending me to orlando in style... especially since aim's ticket made no mention of any first class stuff.

oh, i forgot to mention, we were flying on separate flights because of frequent flyer points and other similar stuff well beyond the comprehension of my puny mind. bottom line, i thought the first class stuff just meant that i was going to be in the first boarding group (read: i generally only fly southwest).

boy was i wrong. to make matters worse, like i said, we were running late... dangerously late and the terrorist threat level must have been at fluorescent lime green because the security line was a mile long and moving at a snail's pace. this was unfortunate... for aimee, but not so much for me seeing as how i was able to bypass the commoners who were moseying along in the "normal" security line and take my rightful place in the first class security line. i felt right at home as i was expeditiously escorted through the first class security line and along to my gate. sad thing is, aim's flight left before mine and her line wasn't moving very quickly at all.

oh, i forgot to mention, aim was pregnant and she gets morning/afternoon/evening sickness really bad... emphasis on really bad. lots of vommiting at any given moment.

i had the decency to wait for aim at the top of some escalators on the other side of the security check, and then wait some more, and then wait some more. i actually started to get a little worried for her, especially when i heard the airline paige her name over the airport intercom. i'll spare you the suspense and tell you that she made it, but if i'm not mistaken, the plane's door was shut and she was probably seconds away from missing her flight by the time she got there (i guess i shouldn't have made her kneel down and kiss my rings upon passing through the commoner security line... would have saved some time). thank goodness that didn't happen since it probably would have screwed up my chances of flying first class. but she made it, and as her luck would have it, it was a full flight... meaning the only available seat was at the back of the plane (you know, the ones that don't recline) and better yet, it was right next to a couple of hung-over irishmen.

this was going to be a long flight.

as for me, i calmly made my way over to my gate and waited until they allowed the first class passengers to board before the common folk and comfortably rested myself in my oversized chair towards the front of the plane in the section that is separated from the coach people by a curtain (i mean, who really wants to have to look at those people anyway... i shouldn't be made to feel guilty for my indulgences) as the stewardess immediately came up to me and offered a drink.

jeremy: "why not? how about some cranberry raspberry juice?"

stewardess: "excellent choice. have you ever tried it with a twist of lime? you have got to try it!"

jeremy: "why no, i have not"

stewardess: "oh, it's fabulous. here, i'll get one for you, and if you don't like it, i'll make you another one."

well, she was right, it was fabulous. who would have thought a little twist of lime could make such a big difference? the stewardess. thing is, the plane hadn't even finished boarding yet and i already had a freshly prepared drink.

this was going to be a beautiful flight.

close scene.

act two: the flight, the arrival, the labyrinth

right now, some of you may be asking, "blogmaster, why did you not give up your first class ticket to your child-laden wife?" i would have, my blog zombies, except that security more than likely would have disallowed it. at least i'm pretty sure it would have since i didn't asked and saw no point in doing so since i am usually right about things like that. but i thought about it and that should be sufficient.

as you have probably guessed, it was a tale of two different flights for mrs. blogmaster and me.

on my end, i enjoyed comfortable and spacious privacy while the stewardess brought me warm moist towelettes to cleanse my hands just in case i had accidentally touched any of the peasants in coach before i snacked on my bowl of warm cashews.

conversely, aim enjoyed the confined and upright company of drunk irishmen who were spilling over into her seat. oh yeah, she probably got some roasted peanuts and a cup of ginger ail as well. of course, she didn't keep any of it down as she passed some of her time throwing up in the airplane lavatory (that means really small and gross bathroom where even the women miss the bowl and get it on the toilet seat).

me: after i'd had my fill of warm cashews and juice, i dined on a succulent meal of chicken and pasta with a brownie for desert. i also think i had another cranberry raspberry with a twist of lime.

aim had some more peanuts and ice chips.

and that's how it went all the way from vegas to dallas to orlando. for those of you who were wondering, it turns out i wasn't supposed to have gotten a first class ticket. it was a mistake made by my sister-in-law, t-cakes. best mistake you've ever made, aunt tami.

no big deal though. aim wasn't bitter. none of this matter to us since we were just happy to be going on a vacation alone, for the first time in a long time... and the privacy, that elusive, yet enticing reward of privacy was but hours away. true, we would only have the privacy we so longed for for one night before aim's other sister and her husband got in from kansas, but one night was worth every minute of the five hours we spent in our respective planes... especially mine.

eventually we arrived and even though aim's plane left before mine i got there first. accordingly, and as planned, i headed to the rental car desk and made the arrangements to get our car so we would be ready to roll as soon as aim strolled into town. there i stood, with keys in hand, hardly able to contain myself at the thought of cruising off to the hotel room with aim so we could play some cards together.

my phone rang...

aimee: "where are you?"

jeremy: "i'm standing right in front of the rental car desk. where are you?"

aimee: "i just landed, i'll be there in a second."

a second passed and the phone rang again.

aimee: "ok, i'm here, where are you?"

jeremy: "what are you talking about? i'm standing right here and i don't see you."

aimee" "avis rental car, right?"

jeremy: "right."

aimee: "well, i don't see you and i'm here."

jeremy: "that doesn't seem possible because i am standing right here and i was tanding her first. you're in orlando, right? is there an hispanic person at the front desk?"

aimee: "no, there is an african american woman (and, yes, we are that politically correct), hold on a second..."

(aimee talks to person at desk and discovers that there are actually two terminals in orlando and she was on the opposite side of the airport).

figures. obviously, some unseen force was trying to keep aim and i from having the hours of deep conversation in the comfort and privacy of our own hotel room we had planned to have upon arriving in orlando, but that force's efforts were futile. we would have that heart to heart if it was the last thing we ever did and we were going to be happy about. nothing, and i mean nothing, was going to dim our spirits. we were going to make this work and be happy about it regardless of the obstacles placed before us.

eventually, aim made it to the other side of the airport and we hopped in the car and drove off but not before i grabbed the mapquest directions from the luggage we threw in the trunk. aim suggested that maybe we get the google map directions that she also printed out just in case the mapquest ones weren't clear.

"are you kidding, i'm a man. i don't need directions. besides, they're in the trunk and i don't want to waste another second getting out of the car, opening the trunk and getting out the directions... there are so many things i want to talk to you about when we get to the hotel that i can't stand to lose another second getting another set of directions out (paraphrased)"

...

2 hours later, at an early one in the morning, we still hadn't found the hotel. orlando's freeway system can be a bit confusing in the dark. and those dang disney people own so much land. but, we weren't discouraged. we were excited and happy and determined to continue our excitement and happiness for the remainder of our lovers' get away... well, lovers plus aim's family get away.

at last we arrived. safe and sound, giddy as all get out, and ready to watch "a walk to remember" as soon as we got into the room.

we made it.

scene fades to black.

act three: aim really likes candles

there we were at the front desk, ready to check in and get the show on the road. i look at my phone... only 2 am, that's 11 pm pacific standard time... i'm not tired... i don't even go to bed until midnight in vegas. that means i've got 2 hours until i even start getting tired. i'm pretty sure aime felt the same 'cause she kept smiling at me and giving me that "look." you know the one. the "i can't wait to read scriptures and say family prayers with you" look.

this night's only just begun, yes, yes, oh yea.

life was good. we were minutes away. you could taste the anticipation it was so thick.

where's that key dang it!

front desk person: "we don't have a reservation under your name, mrs cooper. could it be under another name (aim's parents were getting the room for us)?"

aim: "can you try kim hodges?"

front desk: "i'm sorry there's nothing under his name either."

aim: "ok, let me make a quick call."

no big deal, we'll have this resolved in no time at all, and then... couple's scrapbooking!!! alone, just the two of us... i was getting all silly just at the thought of it.

aim pulls out the phone and calls her mom. i sit there listening to one side of the conversation.

aim: "we're here... blah, blah, blah... they don't have the room for us?"

aim: "ok. we'll be up."

aim to me: "my mom's glad we're here. she said tyler is, too. (tyler is aim's little brother, he was probably 13 at the time) he's been waiting for us. in fact, he's asleep in our room and will be staying with us tonight."

silence. cricket chirping.

at that moment, something died inside me. gone was the heart to heart conversation i was hoping to have with aim, gone was the scripture study and family prayer i was looking forward to, no couple's scrapbooking, no "walk to remember," no painting aim's toenails...

gone.

gone.

gone.

figures. but, that's ok, i guess. we're still on vacation. aim's parents were nice enough to cover all costs of the trip. let's make the most of it. all those activities will just have to wait for some other moment when the kids are asleep in our room at my parent's place.

but wait, it doesn't end there...

we eventually made our way up to the room lacking the skip in our step we once had. we got inside and aim's mom came over to welcome us. aim and her mom got talking and i thought i would go ahead and do some unpacking so i threw the suitcase on the bed right in front of where aim and her mom were standing. i then unzipped the bag and threw open the top only to discover, unbeknownst to me, that aim had decided to pack some of her more saucy under garments right on top of everything. i guess she wanted to be able get to them rather quickly. there they were, in plane view for everyone to take a gander at and when mine eyes beheld the glory of this wondrous sight i couldn't help but smile.

aim, on the other hand, who, along with her mom, had a front row seat to the sultry collection of silks and the like was less amused as she hurriedly grabbed the flap and threw it shut. as if that didn't draw any attention to the suitcase's contents. obviously, it doesn't bother me as i'm blogging about it, but aim is a little more modest than i am. which is why she travels with lingerie.

... and candles, which also made a little bit of noise when she slammed the suitcase shut. yes, she brought some candles and they were also close to the top of the suitcase. she's a great planner. one thing she didn't plan for was her little brother, tyler. for instance, the following morning, when we were all getting ready and the suitcase was opened (the unmentionables were now hidden, but the candles were not), pre-pubescent tyler caught a glimpse of the candles and, being completely perplexed at the thought of bringing candles on vacation, the curious lad quizzically, and naively, inquired "you guys must really like candles or something?"

"why yes, tyler, as a matter of fact we do like candles."

end scene.

and that was how it all got started. the vacation, not our marriage. but like that trip, our marriage has been somewhat of a road less taken full of unexpected twists and turns. it hasn't always been easy, in fact some times it has been downright hard. thing is, i can't imagine having gone through these last eleven years without aim.. especially since i don't have much of an imagination. no, seriously, i have a great imagination... and there is no one i would rather navigate the ups and downs of life with than my little aim.

thanks, babe, for being the lifeblood of our family. happy anniversary. i love you (aim, that is, not you blog zombies... i love you, blog zombies, but i'm not in love with you).