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).

things you shouldn't say to your wife and the revenge she might take if you do

aimee once said a book could be written with nothing but direct quotes from me of things that should not be said to your wife to fill its pages. these quotes aren't the intentionally mean and hurtful types of comments that are obviosuly out of line, rather they are the well-intended, honest comments that sound good in a man's head at the time of formulation but then go all wrong and offensive by the time they hit your wife's ears. admittedly, i have had a few of these and with each experience i learn a new way to forego honesty and tell my wife what she wants to hear. it's just easier for everyone that way.

book might be a bit of an exaggeration. it would be a very short book, probably not even as long as my average blog post. nonethless, as difficult as it may be to believe, there have been more than one of these types of comments that have lef my lips. the most recent of which took place over the weekend.



aim and i were at a little party thing playing a game called mafia. it's like the grown-ups' las vegas version of heads-up-seven up but chalk full of lying, deceit, killing, whispering and guardian angels. it was actually pretty fun stuff. anyway, everyone is assigned a chracter: pedestrian, mobster, or angel. the mafia kill as many people as they can while everyone closes their eyes and the angels get special privileges to try and figure out who the mafia are. here's a link to the rules if you are really interested:

turns out one game i was supposed to be an angel, but the moderator of the game thought someone else was the angel and that person wasn't me. long story short, you can't really talk during the game or else it ruins everything. so there i sat, frustrated as all get out, while some other particpant got all the angel glory. i was powerless and unable to say anything until i'd finally had enough and did my best milli vanilli lip-syncing impersonation while supersoftly whispering to the moderator that i was also an angel.



i thought my vocals were sly and untraceable, but once the game ended my wife commented to everyone in the circle that she heard me whispering as clear as day and there had been nothing quiet about it.

jeremy: (loud enough so everyone could hear me) "not so, i was whispering so quietly that only dogs could hear me."

aimee: "are you saying i'm a dog?"

laughter erupts from the party guests and i feel kind of silly.

jeremy: "no." let's move on, next game, please.

participant: "that's bad." (referring to my comment).

so, that's one example, but it really wasn't that bad because it was more of a joke. this one was worse because it wasn't a joke and i still haven't lived it down:



aim: "would i look better if i lost 15 lbs?"

jer: "who wouldn't look better if they lost 15 lbs?"

it was honest. it was naive. it was early in our marriage.

i'll never make that mistake again.

then there was the other time, also early in the marriage when aim and i headed down to argentina to visit my old stomping grounds as a missionary. it was a much anticipated trip because my mission president and his wife were still down there and i was really looking forward to meeting them and having them meet aim. i was also looking forward to playing the classic practical joke that never got old while i was a missionary... the "i'll tell the new guy to say something to the mission president''s wife in spanish that he thinks is a compliment, but is really just the opposite."

the favorite use of this trick was to teach a greenie missionary fresh of the plane to say "hermana, esta muy rica la porqueria!" to the mission president's wife after eating their first meal for them which she had prepared. translated, this phrase basically means "this garbage you made was real good!" we missionaries thought this was the funniest thing in the world, even the mission president would get a good laugh out of it. hermana monroy on the other hand only tolerated our juvenile humor, but usually felt bad for the new missionary we had taken advantage of and tried to stop things before they started. generally, she was too slow, or i was too fast... who knows? i do, it was the latter.

anyway, i thought to myself what better person to play this very same, time-tested trick on then my very own aimee. what better way to start off a marriage than to flat out lie to your spouse and tell her a spanish phrase means one thing when it actually means another. but aimee was no easy prey. already being all the wiser as the result of many similar antics carried out by me in our short time together, aim made me swear on our marriage that the phrase meant what i told her it meant (which was "thank you, hermana, this food is delicious!") and i did. in fact she made me look her in the eyes and swear because what good is swearing unless your looking someone in the eyes? but that was before we "fireproofed" our marriage... and the thought of pulling off this prank not only as a missionary, but as a husband, was far too priceless to risk telling the truth.

and was it ever priceless. we got to argentina, we arrived to the president's house, we sat at the dining room table, we dined, and i was as giddy as a school girl as i waited with anxious anticipation for the appropriate break in conversation so as to maximize the impact of a perfectly timed delivery. i wanted to make sure my eagerness didn't blow it, so i patiently played my poker face throughout the first round or two of the standard dinner table topics. then, after aim had chomped down a few bites, i gave her the "look" and the "nod."

it had been set in motion, there was no turning back now. the phrase we had practiced over and over until i was confident she was pronouncing the phrase as well as any gringa could took flight... it was as if everything was moving in slow motion and not more than two words had left her luscious lips when hermana monroy quickly remembered my smart alecky sense of humor and immediately droned in her "que verguenza" or "you have no shame" tone of voice, "elder cooper!" but it was too late, it had been done. aim said it and everyone understood it. el presidente was laughing as well as his daughters and i was playing dumb.

yes, it was all that i imagined it would be and i'd have to say it was well worth the white lie. i think hermana monroy punched me in the arm or something and aim was kind of embarrassed... but she really shouldn't have been, they knew i was behind this diabolical scheme and she was but a pawn. they would expect nothing less from me and while aim was a bit surprised, her shock was nothing compared to mine many years later when she exacted her revenge on me in a plush hotel room on the banks of the mississippi river.

come back with me to the summer of 2005 while the greater cooper family was enjoying there now annual trip to biloxi where aim's devious plot to get even with me slowly unfolded before our very eyes. to set the scene a little, it just so happened that i had received a dapper set of speedos as a white elephant gift at a Christmas party the year before and was planning a splendid event in which they would make their very first public appearance on my body in the humid and sultry air of the deep south.

i got the speedos at my in-laws' family Christmas party the year before. i had seen the speedos gifted and re-gifted in prior years and felt it was a true shame that no one wasn't taking advantage of the beautifully exotic apparel. leopard print. three pair. blue, orange and gray. one for each day of a three day weekend. no worries, i thought, i'll just wait patiently year after year until i was comfortable enough that i could steal the loin cloth variety set from one of aim's uncles without the bunch condemning me as a pervert (clearly they had never seen me lingerie shopping). thing is, i wanted them for keeps... no recycling of the banana hammocks here, my friends. you think it's hard for me to shop for female lingere? well, you'll never find me shopping for male lingerie (facials and pedicures, maybe... male lingere, never!). finally i nabbed the speedos somehow and those things haven't seen the light of day of a hodges Christmas party since, although they have seen the light of day of biloxi, mississippi.

here's how that went down, no pun intended (wait for it)...

me, being the funny guy i am, decided it would be great family fun and make for a fabulous and endearing family vacation memory were i to swim around in the hotel's swimming pool in a set of my newfound speedos. the blue ones were my speedo of choice on this particular occasion and so i slipped into the tighties with my normal swimming trunks on top. we all hit the pool for a family swim and, again, with timing being crucial, waited for the perfect moment to turn into speedo man. all of a sudden the trunks came off, underwater of course, and the speedos came out to play. it was a lot more embarrassing than i thought it would be, but at the same time it was fairly refreshing. the water felt great enveloping my entire legs. you women don't know what you've got, although american mores dictate that it is much more socially acceptable for guys to swim without tops and not you, women... so we've got you there.

anyway, i held onto my shorts with kung-fu grip because were i to have lost them, i'd had to have trekked back through the entire hotel to get back to the safety of our room in my speedos... not even my self-esteem could take that. naturally, my bros-in-law tried to wrestle the shorts away from me, but i'm much stronger and more agile than they are, so they hadn't a chance. but, it was cute to see how badly they wanted me to stay in the speedos though.

long story short (as if i'm capable of doing that), i put the trunks back on and we all headed back to the room; however, i still hadn't gotten all the mileage out the speedos i felt i could. neither me nor the speedos had lived up to our potential and, so, when aim and i got back into the room and the kids were out of sight, i jumped back into the speedos, threw on a robe and started to waltz around the room with all the confidence of a typical man. aim just laughed. actually she didn't "just" laugh, she laughed and left the room to go into the living area of the suite. so much for that i thought... and then she told me to come out there to her. not bad, i thought. she's beckoning and i will heed her call. and so i did, but i had been duped as i was met directly by my brother-in-law, bryson, his camcorder, and his maniacal cackle (see previous post regarding cackle).

et tu, aimee?

i quickly covered up because bryson wasn't worthy much less his camcorder, but not soon enough. it had been documented for posterity's sake. aim laughed, needless to say bryson laughed, and so did the rest of the family except for me when they saw it. i smiled, but i'd been had. aim had gotten her revenge, and i've got to hand it to her... it was primo. she made me proud. i wasn't sure she had it in her, but i now know she somewhat relishes in the act of embarrassing her husband seeing as she thinks i think i'm too cool to get embarrassed. for the record, not true.

well, that's it. i thought i was running out of material for the blog until someone reminded me of this memorable little event this evening. someone who has actually seen the video, but is not part of the greater cooper family. i won't explain how, but suffice it to say, i won't be posting the video on the blog as i am not sure blogspot could handle the traffic its viewing would demand. but rest assured, my little aim and dr. lemone, i haven't forgotten your stunt. know that i am on the prowl which should give you cause to keep looking over your shoulder for the remainder of your lives just to see if i'm following you, ready to exact my revenge because of your revenge (it's an eternal round). don't worry though, i'll be easy to spot... i'll be the one in the blue leopard print speedo.

on top of the world

here are some pics from a recent family hike we took up the a mound of dirt some call a mountain. it was a triumph for those of us who packed a 30 lb two year old on their back and took the long and circuitous route to get to the top.

pics from coldstone's 2nd birthday

here are some pics from colston's very eventful birthday which included a new push along car, a trip to town square for a thomas the tank engine amateur actor thing, a trip to chuck e. cheezes and a basketball cake surrounded by a train track... does it get any better than that for a two year old boy who loves basketball and trains?

nothing says i love you like, "i think you need whiter teeth"

warning: this is a really long post, so i split it into two parts. feel free to read both all in one sitting or take your time over the course of a week or two. whatever.

part 1: i'm the guest i get what i want: no flash cannot teleport

obstacle one of the gauntlet has come and gone. and what is the gauntlet you might ask? i'm not telling. if you really want to know, you'll have to go back and read one of the first three or four posts this blog ever saw appropriately titled "the gaunlet" and only then you will know what everyone is talking about at work.

if you don't know how to navigate the world wide web, then i will offer you a hint: obstacle one of the gauntlet was valentine's day. yes, it has come and gone during which time aim and i had a romantic valentine's day weekend at that international valentine's day destination of the world also known as kansas city, kansas. being the lovebirds we are, aim and i decided to spend a lovely weekend away from our kids with other people and their kids. it makes me want to kiss her just thinking about it.

let me explain and perhaps you also will want to kiss your significant other, or significant lover as i like to say.

here it is: i have a brother that lives in kansas and aim has a sister there. each of them have four kids all twelve of whom we spent the weekend with. it was great fun to see the family and hang out with the kc coops and the bennions, although i did get a little tired of doing tick tock for the nieces and nephews... if only jeff would play with his kids some more they wouldn't be so starved for attention. jeff, becky, heidi and quinn were all great hosts, but it was cold out there. i think i was cold for three days straight. no worries, it was nothing the heat of our love couldn't warm up.

as for our kids, aim's folks watched them all weekend up in utah. aim met them half way in cedar city on friday and we flew out friday night. while she drove, i sat through an all day nevada state bar conference thing. while i was sitting there in the conference listening to an enthralling lecture on where and how to file stuff with the court, i was temporarily distracted from the game of chess i was playing on my phone by a call which the phone was showing as coming from none other than aimee.

i was busy playing chess at the time, so i sent the call straight to voicemail. no biggie. but, apparently something was wrong because aim immediately called back at which point i decided i should put my chess match on hold and head into the hallway to take the call.

flat tire?

messed up transmission?

kid/s kicked out of the car and now hitchhiking along i-15?

no more empty bottles and overflowing bladders?

i couldn't wait to find out, so i briskly made my way to the back of the conference room thinking about how i was going to get back home to get the car and head to st. george to make things right. i hurried and called aim to see what all the fuss was about and to my surprise jameson answered on the other end and urgently asked "dad, can flash teleport"

"what?" i replied impatiently thinking i needed to talk to aim to see if everything was alright.

but he repeated, "can flash teleport? I've got a bet with caleb."

a sense of relief then overcame me as i figured out it was jameson who was actually calling me and not aim and the urgent situation was in fact urgent for jameson and caleb, so i was happy to oblige.

"is that why you called? is everything ok."

"yes"

pause

"dad... flash?"

"no, i don't think flash can teleport."

in the background, "see caleb, flash can't teleport, dad said so."

thus it was settled, henceforth and forever. dad said so.



i was glad that nothing more serious was inflicting my little family, but i kind of felt semi-important, kind of like king solomon, upon definitively resolving the youngsters' dispute. on the other hand, aim probably felt like queen solomon as she likely was ready to split some babies in the car after that bomb dropped right in caleb's lap. you see, caleb doesn't take to being wrong all too well. he's kind of like burger king, his way, right away (i think that's burger king) and if not, heaven help us all. apparently after news broke that flash can't teleport, all hell broke loose for a good ten minutes worth of screaming and yelling within the intimate and enclosed confines of the santa fe.

thank goodness caleb still hasn't figured out that we actually won't make him get out of the car and walk to wherever we're going when he misbehaves in the car. we still get a lot of mileage out of that threat! lol! lol! that was an intentional pun that would make my mom so proud (you have to know my mom to get that). anyway, aim made to cedar and back to the airport in time for our flight that night and thus began our romantic get away for fourteen in kc.



in all seriousness, we had a great time. my brother jeff treated us like kings (actually, me like a king and aimee like a queen). he let me pick out the ice cream and chips at the store because i was the guest and that's just how they roll in the midwest. he let me have just about anything i wanted while i was there because i was the guest... that was his rule. in fact, on the way home from his seven year old max's basketball practice/game i asked max if i could have the rest of his capri sun that he got after his game ended.

max wasn't about to share the capri sun with anyone, much less me, and so he very clearly and adamantly told me "no!" at which point i reluctantly reminded him in no uncertain terms that i was the guest and, as such, i got what i wanted.

max protested vehemently to my request and so i had no choice but to get his dad, my brother, jeff involved. sure enough, jeff held fast to his rule and told max told max, "uncle jeremy's right, give it to him."

max started to mildly cry at that point so i told him i was only joking and not to worry because i didn't want the drink anyway, what i realy wanted was his fruit snacks. just kidding, i left the poor kid alone and enjoyed the rest of the trip.

part 2; i love you, but i'm not in love with you and your yellow teeth

turns out valentine's day took place while we were out there and how can v-day be anymore romantic than watching "fireproof" with another couple. if you haven't seen "fireproof," you should. i recommend that all couples fireproof their marriage. everyone's doing it these days. in fact, even california and a few other states recently made marriage flamer retardant within their borders. i dare you to take on the love dare. i could probably do a whole post on "fireproof," but i won't because this post is already too long and i haven't even gotten to the meat of it.



suffice it to say, "fireproof" is a christian film with a great message but plenty of bad writing and subpar acting. kirk cameron is as dreamy as he ever was in growing pains, but a little too melodramatic. all in all it's good clean fun that will get you in the perfect mood to go right to bed on valentine's day evening. also, it will provide a lifetime of sarcastic dialogue for married couples to use in their everyday life.

on with the post...

so, because we were with family for valentine's day, aim and i kind of waited to celebrate v-day until we got back into town. in fact, aim set-up a little surprise activity for me today which i had been waiting for ever since we got back from kc. she didn't tell me what it was, but told me i had to be somewhere for a couple of hours and so i figured it had to be a massage. i like massages and i tend to get a little tension in my back and neck as i pour my heart and soul into this keyboard as i type my posts, so i was welcoming the thought of a nice deep tissue massage.

finally the moment arrived when i had to jump in the car and travel to the undisclosed location where my v-day gift was waiting. i was ready for aim to tell me which massage parlor to go to so i could get the rub down when she all of a sudden told me she was worried that i might not like what she got me. right then i pretty much knew it wasn't a massage, but that was ok because maybe it was a facial or another pedicure. that would be kind of cool, but it would also be very wrong. no, my friends, none of the aforementioned activities were what aim had arranged for as my valentine's day gift. instead aim finally revealed the surprise by saying "you need to go to bryson lemone dental."

that's interesting i thought. do they give massages at the dentist's office these days? i don't know, and it didn't matter because i didn't want one from my brother-in-law anyway. turns out it wasn't a massage at all, but something just as relaxing and enjoyable... a teeth whitening laser treatment. and by just as relaxing and enjoyable, i mean not very relaxing and enjoyable at all.

getting your teeth whitened is like going to the tanning salon (so i hear) but with all the heat rays focused on your mouth. but that's not all, they put some contraption in your mouth that pulls back your lips and keeps your teeth exposed as if you were some fish lipped bucked tooth horse with massive gums bulging out of your mouth ready to throw down with uv rays one inch from your soft tissue.

sure, they put sunscreen all over your lips and nose and you get to wear these sweet sunglasses that look like something my mom was wearing last week, but that stuff barely protects me from al gore and the depleted ozone layer miles away... how's it supposed to block out a laser bearing directly down on my mouth? what's more is you have to sit there for four fifteen minute treatments while they beam the death star laser straight onto your mouth and you just lay there motionless trying not to move and only able to focus on how good you'll look in your next 8 x 10 glamour glossy. did you want an autograph with that?

surprise! i love you! happy valentines day, love! oh and by the way, your teeth are too yellow. (just for the record, aim didn't really say that)

in all fairness to aim, i have actually mentioned to her on many occasions that i would like to get my teeth whitened, so i don't mean to come across as ungrateful, just vain. in all seriousness, my confidence has gone through the roof. i am performing better at work and during pick-up basketball games. people are noticing me now. i'm a new man.

for real, when i found out i was flattered and excited in a perverse kind of way since this could only mean that aim would likely want to kiss me even more than she already does once my teeth were whiter. and whiter they are, so ask me to smile for you the next time i see you. bring your camera and we'll snap a shot or two (first one's free). in all seriousness, they're not freakishly white, but they're better than before. i'm sure you never even noticed (please say yes here so as to not make me self-conscious), but i did.

well folks, that's all the energy i have for tonight. i've got to watch 24 before i go to bed and can't sleep for an hour or two 'cause i'm so hopped up on the intensity with which jack bauer saves the world.

in closing, i would just like to thank my wife, aimee, for her very thoughtful gift to me of whiter teeth. happy valentine's day, babe! i was going to wait to tell you, but i got you a unibrow waxing for out 11th anniversary... enjoy! i know it's not much, but just wait to see what type of elective surgery i'm planning for you for our fifteenth.

i've underestimated my ability to offend and i didn't even mention politics (didn't is past tense)

here we are some seven days later and not a single one of you has commented on my last post commemorating the birth of my son, colston, with a comment wishing the poor lad a happy birthday. he is beside himself... unable to sleep, eat, or function as a normal two year old boy does. gone are the days when he would wake up in the morning singing a happy song to welcome the sunshine into his sleepy room. gone are the days when he would skip to and from the local florist with a bouquet of flowers for his dear mum. gone are the days when he would happily vacuum our fake grass without even having to be asked to.

sadly, these serene moments of blissful innocence are a thing of the past and all because i lowered my blogging standards by poking fun at rodent dogs in knitted sweaters with names like dookie and pinto.

really?

to that i say, where's the fun in wallowing in the gutter all by my lonesome? well, i would suggest that this type of behavior is not the answer... for it would be much better were you to bring yourself down to my level by snapping back with some tart retort about how i don't understand "dog love" and "crocheted sweaters" or how i'm so "old fashioned" and "full of myself" and that i just don't get "it" or how i just am not "cool" or a "mr. fancy pants" or "with it, man" or part of the "in-crowd" or "johnny's gang" or i'm just not a "new kid on the block" or a "socialite named after a place in france" or i must be an "american idol hater" or a "non-people magazine reader" or how i just didn't like the "sixth sense that much" and i probably just don't find humor in shows like "two and a half men" or live in "summerlot" or shop at "nordstroms" or "whole foods" and eat "non-organic food" because i certainly don't know how to have a "good time" or go "clubbing" or do the "electric boogaloo" and "party like it's 1999" while i "pass on grass, all the time" and write in "run-on" sentences and "lower case letters" while overusing "quotation marks" "!" "!" "!"

"in your face," you might say. and then no one wins. correction, no human wins, but the dogs do. and then they take over the world and make us wear the knitted sweaters without any pants.

something downright smoldering like that should do the trick. and at that point, my friend, you would have lowered yourself down to my level and, who knows, we might just become best buddies and find something we can both pick on, like "cats" the musical and the animal because i'm really more of a dog guy. then ye shall see that i cannot be found in league with those wretched dog haters and their ilk. i loved, and i mean loved, the "yo, quiero taco bell" pup before taco bell over did that entire franchise. and who doesn't love scooby doo? i'm also a big fan of chewbacca's and he's pretty much an evolved version of a dog in the lucas universe.

so, in case you are wondering, this is me trying to apologize to those of you who may have taken offense to my previous post. such was not my intent as i was really only trying to get us all to laugh at ourselves... especially if we're one of those people who owns a dog and treats it like buffy and sterling would at the country clud. but seriously, i miss the comments from my good and faithful friends "up in bubbles," "team howey," "emcee mcghee," and the like.

it pains me to think that i may have damaged our blogging relationship beyond repair and, as such, i am taking a page right out of our president's handbook and offering my outstretched hand to all in an effort to please everyone. can we still be friends? and there i go, i can't even apologize without offending all my democrat friends. i just had to do it.

tune in next week when i profusely apologize to the obama zombies."""""""""""""""

birthday number two for son number three

major disclaimer: if you are very sensitive about pampering dogs and it would hurt your feelings if i made fun of pampering dogs, then please do not read any further and just skip down to the poem because i can't afford to lose anymore blog zombies. let's just say that i got a little carried away below such that my wife actually thought i should remove the post but she seems to have forgotten who wears the pants around here. it was only a matter of time before i offended someone on the blog, and i must say that today is as good a day as any. i understand that by writing this disclaimer i am assuring that the people who might be offended by my post will definitely read the post... i guess i could just remove the post, but i have to uphold my artistic integrity. to remove my post would be an affront to all writers everywhere and we can't have that. sorry, i cannot be censored. first amendment: scoreboard. besides, this post is about colston's birthday, so don't be so selfish and take away from that by getting offended

today was colston's second birthday, or as he calls it: his happy day. colston loves happy days for one reason... no, not the presents; no, not the cake; no, not the ice cream (he likes that all the time); and, no, not because his dad sings him a solo rendition of "happy birthday." the biggest reason why colston loves happy days is because of candles.

colston likes candles quite a bit, but he enjoys blowing them out even more. it's actually very entertaining to watch him blow them out. he huffs and he puffs, focuses all his efforts and concentration on one of the many candles and then blows them out one by one and then does it all over again. i think grandpa hodges lit and relit candles on jameson's birthday cake about twenty times last month just so colston could keep blowing them out. he's either a pyro or a firefighter in the making.

colston is a good kid. very mellow. people say he's a mini-jeremy... he should be so lucky. actually, i don't think my cheeks were ever as fat as his are, but i guess that's what makes us so adorable. colston likes basketball and will shoot baskets in the backyard and have aim act as his ballgirl whenever he can. i really think he would literally spend all day shooting if he could. that is right up until he needs a bah bah break (that means bottle) or wants to take a nap with his babies (those are his blankets).

all in all, we are lucky to have him as a member of the cooper five. we just wouldn't be complete without him since the five in the cooper five means five members of the family in case you didn't know. if he weren't around it just wouldn't make sense. if c-town hadn't come along we would have to have gotten some obnoxiously cute rat-like dog and then treat it better than how most kids in first, second and third world countries are treated to make the cooper five brand still work because our sponsors just wouldn't be down with it otherwise.

problem is, i'm not down with treating dogs better than people. don't get me wrong, dogs are great and all, and i'm not saying we should round them all up and sell them to a korean bbq joint, i'm just saying maybe if we combined all the yarn from every wiener dog sweater out there we could probably clothe the octuplets that lady just had for four or five years. and then there's dog strollers... really??? are you kidding me??? do i even need to make fun of those? it's too easy, i won't even do it. i need more of a challenge like making fun of pampering dogs in a pitch so high that only dogs can hear me... then i could make the k-9s self-conscious without setting off the peta whack jobs... now that's a challenge... genius.

then there's dog poop. have some decency people! i don't let my kids go around going number two in the streets and on the sidewalks (number one, yes (but that evaporates quickly), but number two, no... unless of course we are talking about pools, but that's another story). and then there's the obnoxious names to go along with the obnoxious sweaters like poindexter and fufu... what's worse, "original" mormon names or yuppy dog names (seriously, braxton, crispin, colston, as if)???

and then there's the pit bulls that are out mauling kids in the streets... come on, man! basta. to summarize, dogs are not people, too. they are dogs which is a type of animal. people are people which is a type of human being. one far outweighs the other in the grand scheme of things and if i have to explain the difference to you, then we probably would disagree on a number of things on a similar level which i won't get into here because... well, i just won't.

so, let's get back to colston now that the selfish, limelight seeking dogs have stolen the majority of the post meant to be dedicated to the birthday boy. really, this post was supposed to be about colston. as has been noted in the past, i write a poem for the birth announcement of each kid of ours. i called colston's "the boxer" because aim noticed early on that he would hold his arms up like a boxer defending himself or getting ready to land a right hook on someone in the ring. plus, we were in vegas when he was born... it was the perfect fit.

well, it seemed to be a perfect fit at the time, but if i were to re-write the poem today, i'd probably call it "the swimmer" (that is if phelps hadn't been caught hitting a bong, now we're going to have to get a court order to have him remove the cooper five tatoo advertisement he was supposed to start sporting at his swim meets) since colston loves to leisure around in his swimming trunks. he's actually quite obsessive over wearing his swim trunks and won't go to bed unless he's got them on. some nights he'll have us change his swimming trunks two or three times until he decides which swimsuit he's most fetching in that evening.

at any rate, he's a one of the most loveable kids you could ever come across. so loveable, we got him a dog for his birthday sans stroller and sweater. j/k. enjoy the poem.

The Boxer
By Jeremy Cooper

A hush overcame
The impatient crowd
No boredom was present
Not even a shroud

For they’d come from all over
To see the fierce fists of gold
Indeed this poor boy’s story
Had seldom been told

But his legend was fast growing,
His reviews, they were glowing
And in the land of the Vegas
He’d make his first showing

Thus, the venue was fitting
For a fighter of such hype
His spreading fame and catchy name
Meant the timing was ripe

For a town where true winners
Are few and far between
A new breed of champion
Was about to be seen

When the bell finally rang
He made like a bee-line.
He was a survivor flying high
With the ferocious eye of a feline

But his first fighting moments
Were not his most glorious
His trainer grew tense
To watch was laborious

With his eyes slightly swollen
The beating was tollin’
The punches kept coming
And he wasn’t rollin’.

The rumble was fierce
Was this a mistake?
The thumping was more
Than even Jack Bauer could take

A lil’ rope-a-dope
Then a pop, pop, and a bam
His breathing twice halted
And the trainers, they ran

But as he fell to the mat
He never had a doubt
That he would prevail
And things would work out

So he shot right back up
Among the roars of the crowd
If Cinderella Man had been there
He would have been proud

For this steel jawed cager
On victory was hell-bent
And like a phoenix from the ashes
He began his ascent

He started his comeback
With tempestuous attacking
He then gave a clinic
On administering a shellacking

With his fists clenched tightly
He battled ever so mightily
He stung like a bee
While floating butterfly lightly

He pounded like thunder
(but not from down under)
And it fast became apparent
He was no one hit wonder

His speed made him blurry,
His right hooks came in flurries,
And with an uppercut like Ryu’s
He did his job in a hurry.

Balboa would have been shocked,
Clubber Lane he’d have clocked,
Ivan Drago? Not a chance
That Russian would have gotten rocked

The pundits were speechless
The fight was a rout
And without hesitation
The comparisons came out

He’s in the mold of Ali
With the spirit of Joe Louis
Iron Mike even said;
“Man, that white boy’s ludikwis!”

For in the thralls of defeat
He withstood all the heckles
And not since Beck to Harline
In the jaws of Rice Eccles

Had a victory felt so right
And a comeback been so uncanny
He’d grabbed the bull by the horns
And showed he had the anatomy

But more importantly he was here,
He’d thrown his hat in the ring
And his heavenly arrival
Prompted angels to sing.

Pound for pound he was pure,
With no need for disclaimer,
Making one thing for certain:
Jer and Aim’s kid was a gamer!

there's a line and i crossed it: jeremy gets a pedicure

it's been too long. but my indefinite delay is being delayed to bring you yet another emasculating event in the life of jeremy cooper. the pedicure.

yes, i am the guy who got highlights in his hair on more than one occasion, but a lot of guys were doing that back in the nineties.

yes, i am the guys who does the majority of the decorating in our house, but i do it while i eat beef jerky.

yes, i am the guys who likes to go shopping for clothes, but, as i've mentioned in the past, that includes the lingerie department (for my wife, not me).

yes, to all of the above. i realize that these revelations may change some of my blog zombies' opinion of me... some for the worse, some for the better. as my son caleb would say: too bad, so sad... to both sides; for a pedicure doth not a man make. traditionally, a man and a woman doth a man make, although in today's world the same thing can be accomplished with ice cubes, test tubes, injections, etc. (but somewhere in the whole process i'm pretty sure you still need both sides to doth make it).

back to the matter at hand...

in my mind, it is quite simple to straddle the realm of masculine and metro without dipping too far into the deep end of one side or the other while participating in the aforementioned activities. that being said, some activities definitely cross the line and when it came to pedicures, i had my doubts regarding the very being of its effeminate nature. still, in the spirit of tolerance, i decided to get myself some street-cred in the castro district sort of way by getting a pedicure.

this all transpired over the weekend while i was in california on an attorneys' retreat with my firm. we had finished our afternoon bike ride along the beach and were in need of some male sport and being the brooding pack of men that we are, we decided it might suit our fancy to pass our time getting pedicures. some of the guys immediately abstained as they would sooner be caught dead than get a pedicure.

i, on the other hand, like a good husband gave heed to the suggestions my wife had given on many occasions in which she implored me to get a pedicure for the sake of our marriage. i decided to put our relationship before my outdated notions of masculinity and resolved to get my toenails done (just for the record, i didn't get my toe nails painted... that's crossing a line far beyond the line i crossed). plus i didn't have to pay and my boss was going too, so what did i have to lose?

i must admit, that i lingered in the shopping center parking lot for a moment considering the consequences of my actions and even when i had to check my man-card at the door and swallow what little pride i had left in me, i quickly overcame my inhibitions and plunged down into one of the greatest inventions ever made: a mechanically operated massage chair with a mini-jacuzzi for your feet.

the experience was divine and funny all at the same time. i felt bad for the girl working on my feet, aim won't even touch them. i don't know how anyone could do that for a living, but she did a great job. i could hardly understand her, especially when she was speaking vietnamese to her colleagues. i'm not sure what the vietnamese word is for vomit, but i'm certain she used it while talking to her co-workers as i'm pretty sure she was close to losing it for the first 12 minutes or so.

i can't speak for her, but for me, it was a nirvana-like experience. the pedicure givers lure you in with these foot and leg massage things and then pull this "ten more minutes for ten extra dollars" line... how am i supposed to resist that? especially when i'm not paying for it?

it went on and on until finally the girl taking care of my feet and the other two girls taking care of my co-workers' feet realized that our boss was the one paying for everything. like any smart person, they followed the money. it wasn't long after that that they sent us packing and congregated around el jefe. one girl was working on his feet, one was giving him a back rub and one was chatting him up just to keep him distracted from the ever-growing bill he was accumulating. the rest of us then had to sit in the not-so-comfortable chairs while we waited for him to finish up. it was quite a sight.

like all good things, the pedicure finally ended and we were on are way. but as i walked away from my first pedicure, i held my head high. no walk os shame here. i was smiling on the outside, and although no one could see them, my toes were all sparkling and shiny on the inside.

now, i reluctantly admit that i think i'm addicted and will not be so bashful about getting another one as long as my dad's not there. and for those who would question my degree of manliness, all i have to say is...

really?

do you want to see what it feels like to get dropped kicked in the mouth by some silky smooth, asian waxed, hand polished (not painted) and buffed toe nails? so stealthy you won't even see it coming... like a ninja.

that's what i thought.