the cooper five's week in review

some weeks i have to pull something out of nowhere to blog about. yes, i know it's a gift to go on bloviating like i do, but some weeks things just happen that are meant to be put on the internet for all the world to read. the posts relating to these types of weeks generally have a little more substance to them. this last week was one such week. prepare to be edified and uplifted.

jameson gets published and finds his sandwich

jameson's name in print arrived earlier this week, or maybe it was last. kudos to our boy... he has now done something at the tender age of nine that it has only taken me thirty-three years to accomplish: jamebo got published. not bad for the cooper five's version of ol' bill shakespear minus the flaming renaissance garb and the sweet pointy zorro stache.

i'm not jealous.... it's an accomplishment. boy wonder published before he learned to tie his shoes, he's a prodigy, a maravilla, ingenious! but, hey, let's not get carried away... i mean it's not like the kid's a semi-professional blogger or anything.

moreover, this just goes to the show that the affable lad may yet have a tinge of his dad in him. so, here it is appearing for the first time ever on the world wide web (i'm probably committing some kind of copyright violation here... but, those are the kinds of things that jameson has to look out for now that he's a big time, published author. i wonder what that's like).

the huggable, kissable, baby

the huggable, kissable baby is the
funiest baby
you've ever seen
he can be hugged at any time.
he is so cute
you will not believe your eyes.
he is so cute, you will love him so much.
he will do the most
funniest things you've ever seen.
you will love him right before
your eyes.
he's the most huggable,
kissable baby.
if you squeeze him, he will laugh.
he is so ticklish.
he is so cute.
you won't believe your eyes.
he's really funny when he's asleep.
(reprinted with author's permission as originally published in a celebration of poets. lower case added.)

jameson finds his sandwich

a couple days a go aimee was unpacking jameson's lunch bag after a long day at school only to find that he hadn't eaten his sandwich. as a mom, that can be frustrating on at least two levels (so, i'm told): for starters, is his mom's sandwich not good enough for him? secondly, the kid's always starving when he gets home... go figure.

anyway, the funny thing is that when aim asked him why he didn't eat his sandwich, he replied:

"i couldn't find it." and he didn't mean the lunch bag, he meant he couldn't find the sandwich within the lunch bag. i can't help but laugh again upon typing it. what makes it even more funny is that he was dead serious.

he followed up by asking in a very sincere, yet quizzical tone, "i mean, where did you put it (the sandwich), was it on the side or the bottom or something??? because, i couldn't see it (again, completely serious)." i laughed out loud some more. that was the funniest thing i'd heard in a while.

seriously, we're talking about a very normal and very open batman lunch bag... no secret zippers or pockets, no hocus pocus, just one big bag in which it would be virtually impossible to hide a sandwich... as a matter fact, i pointed this out to jameson, declaring, as i stuck my hand in the bag, "it would be impossible to not be able to find a sandwich in this bag."

jameson's reply: "it would be if you were blind."

my reply to jameson's reply: "even then, if you stuck your hand in the bag you would feel it."

sorry, jameson, you may be a poet, but you just lost the sandwich argument and you didn't even know it. actually, you lost the argument because i made it abundantly clear that there is no possible way that any person not incapacitated could not have found that sandwich. law school teaches you strong analytical reasoning skills and how to use triple negatives without getting confused.

caleb recites his scripture

caleb had the scripture again during sharing time in primary. he nailed it, or at least that's what i heard. i had to substitute jameson's class so i missed caleb's recitation of the scripture, but aim said he did really well. we got another video of him practicing which i'll be sure to post soon. way to go, little man.

colston's head is in the 90th percentile

i couldn't leave colston out of this post since that could create sibling rivalry issues of fair treatment someday, so i thought i would let everyone know that colston had his physical about a month ago and he came back as having his weight in the 25th percentile, his height in the 75th percentile and, last but not least, his head came in in the 90th percentile. that's what i call top heavy. he is his father's son. big heads run in the family and, apparently, colston's big melon didn't fall too far from the cooper melon tree.

it's not easy having a big head. most people want one, some are blessed to be born with one. some people flaunt them as if they have no dignity and get artificial head augmentations to make up for a lack of self-esteem. not me, i try to be modest about my big head. i'm still a person. there's more to me than my big head. i would just appreciate it if everyone would stop staring at my head so much... my eyes are up here, people!

jeremy uses aim's deodorant

that's right, i wore women's deodorant the other day... and it's not the first time. does that make me cross dresser? not in the least... clearly not the same thing. besides, i am the one raising all the ruckus when my mom's doing the annual grandkids nativity scene Christmas card picture and she wants to have the newest granddaughter portray baby Jesus in the photo. i'm not sexist or anything, but, i mean, c'mon... do i really need to explain that one?

i digress. i only wear aim's deodorant when mine's all out, which was the case this week. well, mine wasn't actually all gone, but it was in my gym bag which i left in my car for a few days all the way out in the garage. this was problematic for a few reasons:

1) it has been hot this week, especially in my car which means that the deodrant stick likely melted (i still haven't checked) rendering it less effective.

2) my car finds its home in the garage which is a long ways away from my bathroom which is the place where i generally put on my deodorant in the morning. too much effort and too much time to go downstairs just to get melted deodorant.

3) even if the deodarant stick had re-solidified, which it probably did, it probably reformed into stalagmite-like formations that hurt my delicate under armpit areas and don't give me the full coverage i need.

besides, i kind of like smelling all fruity and flowery for a time. it can, however, be a bit distracting as the fumes are somewhat entrancing. i oft times find myself stopping whatever it is i'm doing to focus on enjoying the odor emanating from my armpits. i think aim gets little bugged when i use her deodarant. i don't know if it's because of the little armpit hairs that all of a sudden start showing up on the stick or if it's 'cause she wants to maintain her monopoly of smelling all fruity and flowery. i just wan't to smell good for the sake of those around me, so i try to take care of myself.

aim just told me my posts are too long, so i'll call it a day with that. besides, i need a minute to focus on the perfect blend of my body odor and aim's deodorant.

jack bauer, my doppelganger

a doppelganger is a ghostly double or counterpart of a living person. jack bauer is probably the toughest american to ever live... i'd say it's between jack and chuck norris with jack edging chuck out with a sweet choke-hold in the final round of their death match. some might say i could be included in that mix due to my alleged resemblance to agent bauer... it's impossible to know; but, if you'll indulge me for the duration of this post, i'd like to explore a little deeper the similarities between myself and jack.

i bring this up only because while wandering the halls at church today in an effort to prepare for the lesson i was going to teach in elders quorum, someone said "what's up, jack?" and then her husband said, "i was just thinking that same thing. how's that virus treating you, jack?" first off, i eat viruses like that for breakfast, so, needless to say, it's pretty much worked it's way out of my system... i think i had a little cough left over from the virus' worst today, but i barely even noticed it.

secondly, while i am flattered by the comparison to the very person you could tell me i have a man crush on and i'd be alright with it, when i told my wife about the comment, she said that it really wasn't a compliment. actually, babe, it is a compliment and on more than one level, but what i suspect you are referring solely to the fact that jack isn't all that physically attractive. i mean, he's no quaisimotto or anything, but he's certainly not nearly as dreamy as jason bourne. don't let that get to you though, aim, since i think what the joneseseses were trying to say is it's not so much that jack and i are pretty much twins separated at birth but that my very aura emits the "he's never going to crack no matter what they do to him while simultaneously saving the world from terrorists for the umpteenth time" type of toughness and resolve that only the likes of jack bauer and myself can exude.

listen, i've been told i look jack before... it's nothing new. i've also been told i look like jason bourne, as well... more so when i was younger. jack is pretty much an older version of jason, so from a timeline standpoint that makes sense: younger me: bourne, older me: bauer. plus, all of our names start with "j". however, in the spirit of full disclosure, i feel compelled to amdmit that a girl in high school used to always tell me i looked like the cowardly lion from the wizard of oz movie. still, two comparisons to tough guys versus one comparison to a cowardly animal... i think it's obvious who is more accurate and in case you haven't figured it out yet, it wasn't the girl from my high school. as if.



plus, unlike the cowardly lion, i have done hundreds, if not thousands, of very bauer/bourne-esque things like going dumpster diving to recover a very important hard drive. just in case you're curious, this took place back when the cooper five was schaking up at an apartment complex in san jose, ca. i had a laptop and the hard drive went out. i had a warranty on the lap top which would replace the bad hard drive with a new one at no cost provided i sent back the bad one once i installed the new one. well, i got the new one, replaced the old one and once i had what i needed, i left the old one on a desk in our room to send back at a later date when i felt like it. so, there it sat for a week or two. no biggie... i knew i could send it in whenever i wanted and not be charged for the new hard drive... it wasn't going anywhere. quit rushing me, people.



so, there it sat until i returned home one night and noticed that the hard drive was missing. i asked mrs. blogmaster where the hard drive was at. she didn't answer. i gave her one more chance and she still didn't answer so i tied her to a chair and started to pull the electrical wires out of the lamp to prep the mood for the interrogation. that didn't phase her so i told jameson that i was going to need a hacksaw. needless to say, she cracked like a whip when she heard that. in case it's not obvious, i'm just kidding... i don't physically torture my wife, there are other equally effective but less obvious forms of torture i prefer. actually, she just answered the question without any threats from me and told me that she had thrown it out that very day because she thought we didn't need it anymore.

being completely computer part challenged, i figured a new hard drive would run around $500 and i didn't want to spend $500 like that, so there was only one way to remedy this problem and like jack did in season two when someone had to fly the sesna carrying the atomic bomb into the desert on a suicide mission, i threw on the yellow dishwashing gloves and headed for the community dumpster all on my own. i wasn't happy about it, but i was willing to do my duty to the family.

it was a fairly humiliating situation. luckily, it was dark, so i figured me jumping in and out of the dumpster wasn't going to be quite as noticeable to potential passers by as it would be during the day (this was a covert op). nonetheless, i made aim come with me to keep watch and prevent some random tenant from happening upon me while swimming around in muck and calling the cops or offering to take me to the local homeless shelter. i was filling encouraged though as i made my way to the dumpster since aim had mentioned that she had heard the hard drive hit the bottom of the dumpster when she tossed it in there. "good," i thought, "it should be right there at the bottom, an easy to find, quick extraction, in and out, the dumpster will never no what hit it."

but, as luck would have it, the trash heap was nearly full by the time i got there. apparently, dumpsters fill up fairly quickly when scores of apartment dwellers are throwing their garbage in them over the course of 12 hours. modern day mythology would have you believe all those progressive californians are consuming less than that... not so, my friend. at any rate, we approached the dumpster cautiously, and i activated the asset (me). i jumped over the dumpster's wall like a spry cat and started fishing around as carefully as i could. this was going to be harder and more humiliating than i thought.. certainly it is one thing to fish through any grouping of garbage for any reason at all, but to be knee deep in the dumpster of a 300 plus apartment complex looking for what in reality was probably only a $200 hard drive is quite another.

10, maybe 15, minutes passed with no hard drive in sight. the fumes were starting to get to me, but it was imperative that i find that hard drive... the fate of our financial future depended on it. so, we carried on... and by carried on i mean that i was the one digging around in the dumpster and aim was still keeping watch outside the dumpster in the much cleaner, less smellier and not nearly as enveloped in other people's old toothbrushes, rotting leftovers, used kleenexes, etc. area when all of a sudden we heard a startling noise coming from the general direction of our building.

"what could that be," we thought (those exact same words and at the exact same time, too). no matter, we must not be diverted from the primary target of our mission: the hard drive. then we heard it again... it was an interesting noise, somewhat startling... something akin to the aliens from the aliens movies when they get shot: high and shrieking. then, out of nowhere, we saw our french neighbor, and fellow blog commenter, alex running around in his french pajamas (they weren't really french pajamas, but i'd like you to try and picture him in french pajamas for purposes of this post, whatever that means). he was looking for us and beckoned for us to come thither (should we trust him? wwjd? what would jack do?). aim abandoned her post and left me vulnerable in the dumpster... apparently, she never graduated from ranger school or else she'd have known to never leave anyone behind except that i must not have graduated from ranger school either since we both decided we could leave jameson behind in the apartment since he was asleep when we decided to go dumpster diving. beside, i needed a lookout man, or woman.

as luck would have it, jameson woke up and being the three or four year old he was at the time was scared upon concluding he had been abandoned and, as such, made his way out into the common area of our building crying and screaming (please read alex's comment for more accurate account of the story. i didn't change because i am using some artistic license here). alex, who lived directly above us, later described jameson's shrills as sounding something like a pig being slaughtered.
obviously, jameson did not inherit the bauer dna his dad got.

actually, the mrs. and i felt pretty bad about all that, but our feeling of remorse quickly went away when we found the hard drive in the dumpster and saved ourselves some coin. it was a win win for all of us: jameson wasn't abducted and we found the hard drive. i had the hazmat team hose me off and aim and i embraced while kissing passionately. jameson's self-esteem increased upon seeing his parents be openly affectionate with one another. it was a child psychologist's dream. good news is, there was no mole in the cooper household.

so, there you go... based on that experience alone i can only conclude that i am pretty much jack bauer or jason bourne or a hybrid of the both of them, take your pick. alright, we'll just leave it at jack bauer, since saying i look like matt damon is a little self-serving of me... i don't want to be that guy, you know, the one who says that people tell him all the time that he looks like tom cruise, or george clooney, or andy from the office except that i have said that throughout this entire post. i like my cake, can't i eat it, too, for crying out loud?



fine, i'm fine if you don't think think i look like bourne, but can you at least consider me to be a hipper, better dressed, pedicure-getting version of jack bauer? i won't go so far as to say a gay version of jack bauer for what i would hope should be obvious reasons, but maybe more of a straight male model version of jack bauer... or something similar to the likes thereof.

in fact, i'll make it easy on you. here are your choices:

jeremy looks like:

a. a better looking version of jack bauer
b. a better dressed version of jack bauer
c. a cooler version of jack bauer
d. other (be nice, my ego is fragile)

go ahead, waste a minute of your time telling me what you think, i'd appreciate it. the real question we should be discussing, however, is how someone can call me jack bauer and feel good about themselves when my wife is way hotter than jack's wife was?

red rock pics

here are some pics from a recent little hike we did up at red rock. it was a nice day and the colors in the pics turned out great, so i thought i would post them for your viewing pleasure.

belated birthday wishes to big jeff, little bry bry, and hose

before i get started, just a few quick thoughts on the absolute masterpiece unfolding before my very eyes: high school musical three. i could dedicate an entire post to this movie, in fact i just might someday soon; however, i am not sure that i want go into too much detail on the blog about it since my mom reads here and this may tip her off as to the existence of the movie.

i can only hope she hasn't seen the show and i'm almost certain she hasn't since she would most likely spontaneously combust as a result of the all out sensory overload she'd experience from the grip of overacting, bad acting, quirky writing and complete disconnect with reality (not that there is anything wrong with movies being unrealistic): all of which comprise the perfect ingredients to an exceptional church roadshow. what plink floyd's the wall is to heroine addicts, high school musical the roadshow would be to my mom.

kenna jo was the road show queen in her day. she loves everything about amateur church theater... and what's not to love about a bunch of deacons/teachers/priests running around on stage dressed like the fruit of the loom fruit guys and dancing their hearts away to a reworked rendition of the beatles classic, "i wanna hold your leaf (or, hand)"?

as a matter of fact, deep down inside i think she secretly hopes that andrew lloyd weber will somehow get a hold of the multiple videocassetts held under high security at her house of the roadshows she wrote and directed and demand that she write/cast/direct his next production. and believe me, these were productions... just ask fellow blog zombie, megan. i'm sure she would love to reprise her role as letty lettuce (did i get it right?) from the 1992 classic, "welcome to my garden." it was hot.

back to high school musical. i loved it and by "loved it" i mean i laughed during it and when i say "i laughed during it," i laughed at it, not with it. mostly because it completely reminded me of my high school experience. i played a little basketball my freshman year. i sang in some church choirs and had some supporting roles in my mom's roadshows. my dad and i used to fight over whether i would go play basketball at byu or do musical theater at juilliard. all the coolest kids in my school were thespians and while i didn't do theater, i was still able to showcase my singing and dancing skills on an almost daily basis since our entire student body typically broke into song two or three times a day complete with professional choreography. it was totally awesome.

anyway, since high school musical reminds me so much of my dad, i thought i should wish him a happy birthday seeing as how he had one a few days ago. my dad is a cpa, which means among other things, as he likes to say, he didn't have the personality to be a mortician... ha, ha... and that he is very busy during tax season. as you may know taxes are due on april 15th each year and, ironically enough, my dad's birthday is on april 14th. that was some kind of cruel joke his parents played on him. being the party animal big jeff is, it's always difficult for him to hunker down on the 14th in his office and get those returns done when he could be out painting the town. actually, i don't think it's hard for him at all... that's just how he is. at any rate, happy birthday, dad.

apparently, my brother-in-law, bryson also had a birthday last week. you've heard about bry bry before... he's the cackling dentist. once he laughed so hard and vociferously at his own joke i thought his gums were literally going to pop and that he'd have to do dental work on himself.

easy on the chuckles, dr. l, you're getting a little old for that type of exertion. no sense in cashing in your chips prematurely and heading off to that glass castle in the sky before your time. and for the uninitiated, "glass castle" is a name that bryson came up with for that perfect business when it comes along. to further explain, every so often we like to get together and brainstorm over business ideas and names of businesses. bryson thought he had nailed the ideal business name when he dropped "glass castle" on all of us... and he was spot on provided he was talking about selling something on the home-shopping network or the antique roadshow. bryson, you know i love you, big guy... so, happy birthday and may all the drawbridges of life's glass castles lay open before you... just make sure you walk softly as you cross them since, after all, they're glass, man.

lastly, but certainly not leastly, my sister-in-law, hose. many of you may know her by the name given to her by her parents at birth: heidi. no, heidi, i didn't forget, rather i have been torn up inside over whether i should recount the story i'd really like to, but given the family friendly nature of the blog i've decided not to. don't fret just yet though, my zombies, we'll start slowly and see if i build up the confidence necessary to share the story the world deserves to hear.

in the beginning, heidi was naive. she's from utah where most mormons are perceived as living in something akin to a bubble. i lived in utah for 5 years, worked at a high school there and am married to a girl from the heart of happy valley, so i speak with some authority when i say that the proverbial bubble i hear so much of is a slightly over-exaggerated stereotype, generally speaking. that being said, i must add that some mormons in utah, like some mormons in nevada and california and argentina, etc., etc., do live in a bit of a bubble... and i'm not saying that that's such a bad thing, i'm just saying that that's the way it is.

in the case of heidi, it wouldn't be inaccurate in any sense of the word to say that she falls into the latter category, not that there's anything wrong with that. in fact, to say heidi is naive is somewhat of an understatement. as an example, her husband, quinn grew up on a farm in a very remote part of utah and i am convinced he had more exposure to the world in vernal, utah, than heidi did in provo, not that there's anything wrong with that. the funny thing is that heidi is oblivious to her naivete... which can be kind of funny sometimes, and downright embarrassing at others. either way, it's its own kind of beautiful.

take for instance the "foreplay incident." aimee, aka mrs. blogmaster, and heidi both used to drool over db sweeney in the all time classic the cutting edge back in their young starry eyed teeny bopper days. apart from db's exceptional skating skills and manly maneuvers in the rink, aim picked up (no pun intended) on a little line the woman from the movie said: "it's like foreplay." why she said what she did isn't important and i can't remember anyway, so don't worry about it. what is important is that my wife, being the innocent maven she was, had no idea what that meant and, as a result, asked her elder sister to explain.

at this point, most people who have no idea what they're talking about when asked a question will refrain from answering or giving an explanation. most people does not include heidi. no, my friends, heidi doesn't have to have a clue as to what she is talking about in order to speak. there's something to be admired there, i guess; but, there's also something to be worried about, as well.

in aim's case, when her sister offered an innocent explanation as to the meaning of what "it's like foreplay" meant which, by the way, was nothing even close to what it really meant, and then aimee, while at her dad's office in front of his colleagues, thought she'd show off her "mature" vocabulary by busting out the "it's like foreplay" line, big kim had some explaining to do. keep in mind aim was like 12 years old at the time. no wonder kim started getting gray hair in his thirties (note to blog zombies: kim is her dad, not mom... see prior post for explanation).

well, all's well that ends well, but it doesn't end there and we just don't have the time to review any and all instances in which something similar has happened with dear aunt heidi. regardless of heidi's various miscues, however, she is one of a kind. she is as dedicated of a mother and wife as you could come across. she is fun to be around because she usually says something pretty funny when you're around her, unintentionally. all in all, she is a genuine human being, the type this world could use a lot more of as long as such huamn beings are willing to curb their enthusiasm to answer questions innaccurately.

so, in closing, i will just say that even though i didn't build up the courage to share the story about heidi that i would love to share with you all, i will say that it had something to do with a fictional paper she wrote in eighth grade that explored in detail the make beleive nation of a people that lived in the land of bilbos... except that it wasn't the land of bilbos, it was the land of a word that rhymes with bilbos... a word that has "d"s in it instead of "b"s. you do the math. she had no idea. it was an honest mistake.

good for her.

makes you wonder what kind of jr. high school musicals were going on at her jr. high.

happy birthday... all of you.

easter sunday with the cooper five plus two

first off, let me just say that all of you who came out of the cooper five closet and posted should be proud of yourselves. hold a parade, take a day off work, throw a protest at some mormon temple to show your cooper five pride. we made it to net double digit comments with megan appropriately capping it all off with comment to put us over the top. see what we are capable of? let me just say i have never been prouder of you, zombies.

for those of you who didn't post, you really should have... if for nothing else, than for my mother. she's a sweet aging lady who thinks i'm the greatest semiprofessional blogger ever. let's help perpetuate that myth. just picture yourself as a parent, checking the internet every day to read your son's blog in hopes that the world has discovered his genius only to find single digit comments. this is something no parent should ever have to go through.

now for a quick recap of easter sunday with the cooper five... and by quick, i mean my version of quick.

sunday morning: we all get up and have aim's tasty german pancakes. i always thought eggs would make a great easter breakfast, there's some delicious irony there.

church starts at one which means that should leave plenty of time for a family of five to get in their sunday best, comb their hair, brush their teeth, and still make it to church on time. not bloody likely for the likes of us. actually, we were on time for church on sunday but late for the appointment that aim had with a member of the bishopric before church. choose your battles.

before one o' clock: we get the kids ready. they look awfully dapper. we make the mistake of letting the kids out in the garage on their own. aim goes into the garage and finds them. aim comes back in from the garage to keep from strangling them. car tires and white shirts don't mix well together. all is not lost, it was just colston who got dirty. two out of three... we'll take it.

on the way to church aim reminds me that we will have two additional little boys with us during sacrament meeting because their parents are speaking and they needed someone to keep an eye on their kids. one of the boys is two and the other is 9 months. i fear for all of our safety.

we arrive at church. i let jameson and caleb out of the car and, as sternly as i can, exhort the lads to behave better than they ever have before (not hard to do) or else there would be dire consequences. jameson sensing the hollowness of my threat and probably just curious to see what "dire consequences" meant exactly replied "oh yeah, like what?" doh. i hate it when he does that. shouldn't my initial threat have been enough to frighten him into blind obedient submission? i hadn't actually thought far enough ahead to come up with detailed dire consequences.

what's that passing me by? oh, that's my street cred with the boys.

we enter the chapel and find a seat half way up on the cushioned benches. best seats we've had all year. boys are starting to bounce around like unstable molecules... i have a bad feeling about this. aim comes back from her meeting with the bishopric member. she's not crying. this is a good sign.

church is about to start. the speaking parents show up with their two boys. aimee would have said they looked pretty cute (see how i did that? review prior post on the word "cute" to understand). the smallest one stays in his carseat. he must sense this is going to be a wild ride. the older one takes a seat next to me. i think he's about to cry. he doesn't cry. i put out my hand to get a high five from him. nothing.

sacrament meeting starts. so far, surprisingly good. this has to be the calm before the storm. caleb starts to vibrate... here it comes. he walks over to me and asks while looking at the older of the two boys we are now watching, "why isn't he moving?" well, son, what you might take for paralysis is actually more commonly referred to as "reverence." as foreign as this concept may be to our children, it's encouraging to see that not all kids are adverse to sitting still. of course, there is always the possibility that the boy was scared stiff. i put my hand out again hoping to break some of the tension by getting a five. nothing still.

the younger one starts to cry. i think to myself it must be the pink blanket he's wrapped in. note to self: make joke about pink blanket in blog... see how immature and insensitive i can be about certain things like the color pink while not thinking twice about pedicures, shopping for female clothing, blogging or decorating? hypocrisy is the word i believe you are searching for.

aim picks up the little one and holds him. the little one spits up. aim doesn't notice, but megan (yes, that megan) is sitting behind us and points it out to aimee. "it must be the pink blanket," aim says. "there goes my joke" i think to myself. not as original as i thought. see how insensitive aim can be about the color pink? the little one calms down. the older one now wants to go up on the stand with his parents. i try to hold him back without being too rough for fear of a lawsuit. i put out my hand for a high-five yet again. still nothing.

jameson and caleb are being irreverent. this isn't noteworthy as it is commonplace during church every sunday. however, i turn to jameson and, again, very sternly tell him to knock it off in the best "i meant it" impersonation i can conjure up within the chapel during sacrament meeting. it is important to note that i have become quite adept at mouthing things as a disguised whisper, but is really more of a yell based on the perfect combination of the facial expressions and mick jagger like lip contortions i extol. jameson, getting the picture, tries to defend himself and shift blame to caleb by doing the same, however, seeing as how he does not have the years of experience i've had in "whisper yelling", his mouthing motions resemble more of a bad cross between an amateur street mime and a pokemon character than a seasoned "whisper yell". entertaining, yet ineffective.

jameson makes his way over to the parental guidance to see what's happening on that side of the bench. he notices the younger one and asks, "why does he have a pink blanket?" this coming from a kid who bought himself some sweet turquoise necklace thing at the ward auction two years back. let it go cooper five, it's just a pink blanket for crying out loud. flippin' pinkaphobes.

things start to heat up again. aim and i switch kids. i stick my hand out for a final attempt at getting a five. i get one. nice. sacrament meeting ends. it was eventful. it was meaningful. the talks were great. the mood was what it should have been. all was well that ended well.

on a side note, coincidentally, aim and i decided to hold off on kid number four a little longer. just kidding. maybe.

all in all, the kids were very well behaved. we enjoyed changing things up a little and we're glad that the parents of the kids felt comfortable asking us to help out. anytime, my friends. anytime.

blog zombies: you are legion, but i've got a fever and the only prescription is more comments

this post is for all my faithful, and even not so faithful, blog zombies out there. i feel your presence and hear your whispers... i know you're there, even though, except for a choice few, you refuse to comment. what you don't understand is that despite my exceptional blogging skills, i am only human. i can only come up with so many brilliant posts for free for so long.

i'm not asking for any money, i'm above that, although i am trying to come up with some multi-level marketing scheme that involves you as my blog zombies enlisting other blog zombies to comment on my blog posts for a nominal fee. i am putting the finishing touches on my late-night infomercial now:

first very amateur actor: i made $20k last month without even leaving my house.

second even more amateur actor: i made $50k and i don't even have a college degree.

infomercial host: hi, my name is webster, you might remember me from hit daytime sitcoms such as, webster. blah, blah, blah, you get the picture... all you have to do is comment on the cooperfive blog.

i'm sure you've figured this out by now, but i'm not saying anything... i'm just saying: i've got a fever and the only prescription is more comments.

ever since i started blogging almost one year ago to the day i have dreamed of reaching double-digit comments on a single blog post... i figured i'd have scaled that everest by now and, surprisingly, i have not. comments are my currency. it has now become an obsession so consuming it almost kept me from watching 24 the other night.

i've stayed up late trying to think of the perfect post that would inspire as many as 10 blog zombies from my little blog zombie flock to comment on a single post. i occasionally stock the blogs of cyberspace and i just don't get it. i'm not envious or anything, i'm just a little jealous since jealousy is way different from envy. maybe i need to take some more cute photos of aim and the boys and slap some photoshop markings on them. maybe i should get a hold of last summer's efy soundtrack and replace my music with some jericho road. i don't know, i'm spent. in the meantime i guess i will just have to keep dreaming up new ways to keep your attention while simultaneously losing your respect and emasculating myself.

never fear, i will never cease to deliver quality posts like those of the past. let's take a moment to reflect on such classics as...

the critically acclaimed "pigeons, poop and gameballs." this was one for the ages, the one that really put me on the blogging map. then there was the "blond ambition: yes, i can and so can you or else it just wouldn't be fair" which may not have had the blockbuster budget and starpower of "pigeons" but has become a cult favorite and art house fixture all over the world. we came close with aim's walmart post, but that comment total was a little misleading/inflated since i think i posted two of the eight comments.

and how can we forget the "twilight post"? i pulled out all the stops for that one. i felt like my breadth as a blogger really showed in that post. the recent rumblings of that post being the odds-on dark horse favorite to take the post of the year blog oscar may be a little premature, but i felt i had to get the rumor up and going sooner rather than later, so.... while "genius" may be a little strong to describe that post, "sheer genius" seems a little more appropriate; however, unfortunately, and in spite of adri's very clever comment, that post could only muster a mere six comments. even aim's birthday post only managed a measily two comments. babe, it's not you, it's me. i am failing.

then again, i have to remind myself that even "arrested development" only lasted two and a half seasons while "two and a half men" is on its ninth or something. that, my friends, is a sad commentary on that state of america's sense of humor.

maybe i kid myself. perhaps my delusions of grandeur are just that... delusions, but i'm no quitter. i'll keep blogging. in fact, your failure to comment only makes me a stronger, more determined blogger. the more i think about it, i don't want to be mainstream, i like being the underdog who dwells in the underground. it's part of my draw, my mystique, my moxy, my kit and kaboodle.

i get it. i'm that blogger. the one whose material you'll all read in the safety of your own home but are afraid to talk about in public. you don't want to be publicly associated with the blog. you're comfortable with the anonymity of the blog, don't kid yourselves, you are blog zombies and there is nothing you can do about it regardless of what your parents would say if they knew. this isn't hitler's germany or stalin's russia... no ones going to knock on your door in the middle of the night, pull you from the comfort of your home, drag you down to some dark room ten stories underground in the middle of the desert and question you for hours before throwing you on a black list. there's no such thing as "blog zombie'ism".... at least that's what they want you to believe. posting on the blog won't keep you from getting a cabinet position or a supreme court nomination, but as long as you pay your taxes that shouldn't be a concern anyway.

think of me as the che guevara of the blogging world except that i am nothing like him even though we both lived in argentina. but i'm now thinking i need a picture like his at the top of the blog, even though he probably looks better in a beret than i do (i'm not full-on conceding that, it's definitely up for debate). but i'd be willing to wear a beret and grow a goatee for the shot. i just think it would be kind of cool to have my picture as a revolutionary blogging soldier plastered across the world as a somewhat laughable political fashion statement which really should make a difference for my cause since anyone who wears a che shirt is clearly dedicated to communism... that's assuming they even know the guy in the beret's name that is.

regardless, i'm impervious to your ignoring me because i actually don't notice that you're doing it since you're really doing nothing at all... in fact i often have to pinch myself as a reminder that you're even doing it... or not doing it, as it were. but keep in mind that studies have shown that reading the blog makes people happy. doctors, psychiatrists and religious leaders are prescribing it to patients and followers alike. more specifically, the kids in the hospitals, the orphans in the orphanages, the really skinny kids in ethiopia that live in mud huts with no electricity but still seem to have access to the internet somehow are inspired by your comments. so, here's what i propose:

comment for the kids... for jeremy's kids. in fact, let's start a telethon. all we need is a juggler, someone's annoying little rat dog to do tricks and a few custom-written roadshow skits from my mom and we're in business. donate a comment on the blog and change someone's life. it's not that hard and it will make a world of difference. don't do it for me or mrs. blogmaster, do it for them. it will be beautiful. the ball is now in your court, so but don't be surprised if you get a call from someone in india asking you to donate a comment to the blog. you can avoid that unintelligible call by posting just one comment.

on a side note, i don't question all of your loyalties (you know who you are since some of you are even willing to be seen with us in public and welcome us into your home and throw very enjoyable dinner parties and birthday get-togethers for us, well, not me, just mrs. blogmaster... btw, thanks again for that, mj and cf) as i suspect many of you have even tattooed the label "blog zombie" on some unseen region of your body. i can respect that as long as it is a removable tattoo because otherwise it's just not worth it, man. blogging's a fad, your body's a temple and that tattoo "artist" with more piercings on one side of his face than the entire young woman's program in your ward, even before president hinckley's "talk", doesn't have a recommend. i would go for something more vanilla ice'ish and less permanent like shaving "blog zombie" into your eyebrow or something. but whatever.

in closing, i'm going to go out on limb here at the risk of exposing my complete and utter blogging world ignorance and admit that i don't read see jane. i realize that my blogging street cred may have just taken a hit... and i'm ok with that. but i feel i need to be open and honest with you, my blog zombies, if i ever really suspect to control you from the internet. you probably read that blog and that's fine if your into that kind of stuff, it makes for a good cover story... plus she went to high school with mrs. blogmaster. they're, how should i say it... bulldogs for life, or something like that?

did i just drop something? as a matter of fact, i did... a name. you see, even i'm not above name-dropping. shameless.

all i'm asking is that you never forget, that as proud as you may be to be janites, you are also blog zombies. it's nothing to be ashamed of. carry that mantle with some pride.

the few, the proud, the green.

sic semper tyrannus.

on second thought, i've heard eyebrows don't grow back... of course, that wouldn't deter a real blog zombie from doing it.

happy birthday, aim... i got you the greatest present ever

to my lovely little aim on her birthday,

since my life is an open-blog to all my greeny faithful, i thought i would share something i created for aim for her birthday on the information super highway as a symbol of my love, appreciation, and ability to navigate the internet. yes, i am a ware of the fact that this is a day late and several hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars short; but i was banished to the realm of little league/t-ball pictures and opening day ceremony purgatory with the boys for about eight straight hours of blissful hell yesterday. then there was the priesthood session and some birthday activities to fill out the remainder of the day leaving me with absolutely no time to post. i feel bad, but i am about to make up for it with the greatest gift yet in our 11 years of marriage:

a mix cd.

well, not actually a cd, because cds are so 1995, instead i am just going to choose a select group of songs and include links to their youtube videos for your listening pleasure. this post will pretty much be your own personal ipod. each of these songs carries some kind of special meaning relating to you, aim, or our relationships together. i can't think of a more beautiful, more original, way to celebrate your 32 years of life. so, here's the line-up:

fighter girl by mason jennings



i know aim doesn't like mason jennings all that much, and i know that she probably doesn't really like the not-so-feminine connotations of being likened to a "fighter girl", but i think this song is an anthem for aim and her soujurn with me.

as aim's dad might say: aim's a tough cookie, or as i might say: she's like a jolly rancher or sweet tart. cookies are sweet and yummy, which aim often is, but to leave it at that doesn't really give the full picture. i like to think of aim as a jolly rancher or sweet tart, which are coincidentally my favorite hard candies, not only because they are sweet and tasty, but because they have some sassy tartness about them... as does aim. personally, i can't get enough of them... i'll be soaking one in, for instance, thinking, man, this is pretty tangy --- in fact it's almost more than my mouth can bare --- but i can't spit it out, they're that good. well, so is aim. think red vines and mr. pibb, but crazier delicious.

she's a fighter. she's put up with me and my pipe dreams through 11 years of marriage, 8 years of school, while raising for 4 rambunctious boys, including 3 years of busy seasons, 2 professional exams (cpa and bar) and all in the face of spending eternity with 1 imperfect husband in a pear tree (note to self: create the cooper family twelve days of Christmas blog post this year using these items. now if i can only fill in the other numbers... the plain white-t's have inspired me).

here's the thing, aim fights for perfection in an imperfect world. she's not perfect herself, but she's making a go of it and she generally gives it her all. i can't say the same for the rest of us (meaning me and my boys, i'm sure the rest of you are either perfect or close to it which is partially due to the fact that you consistently tune into the blog). this is one of the things that first attracted me to aim and is something i knew i wanted in my wife. in short, she can hold her own and that's the type companion i want in the fox hole with me when times get tough. she's got my back in more than one way. keep swinging, babe, but not in the "swinger" kind of way, in the "i can kiss the sky and no one can stop me" kind of way

oh, and how can you not love this line in the song... "come on kiss me, keep on kissing me." mason sings it much better than i type it, but you get the point. you should see me listening to this song in the car... makes me want to pick up a guitar and sing... actually it makes me want to suck on a jolly rancher.

she bangs the drums by the stone roses

Stone Roses She Bangs The Drums
Uploaded by Celtiemama

i had to throw in something from the roses. i played a little bit of drums in a former life and i'd have to say that there is something therapeutic about the rhythmic pounding on stuff with wooden sticks. in fact, i think most stay at home moms should take up the drums as a way of coping with the frustrations of raising children... especially stay-at-home mom's with three boys. i remember the time i was studying for finals in our dining room and the boys were being pretty crazy, so crazy that i all of a sudden looked up from my notes and to the left in time to notice aim marching jameson and caleb to the front door before summarily dismissing them the wee lads from the house... i beleieve "get out" were the exact words she used.

i just kept my head down and studied... i wasn't about to get involved in that. by the way, it was december and the boys didn't have shoes on. as such, when the boys didn't return after a few minutes aim went to retrieve our offspring but was unable to locate them in the streets or at their friends' houses. she came back a little worried and so i embarked on a quest to find the little street urchins. at first, i couldn't find them and started to get a little worried myself. fortunately, i eventually found the boys down by the community pool area... they were looking for wood to make a fire to keep themselves warm. and to think, drums could have prevented this.

just so we're clear, aim is an angelic mother... there's no doubt about that, but there are times when i get home and i can tell it's been one of those days. those are the days when i wish i could give her some sticks and a few minutes to just go bust out a solo and let loose on the skins. it would help. but if drums are cost prohibitive, a punching bag would do.

you know, one of those big ones that you can really lay into... in fact, there was this time we were cruising around some department store and were coming up on a punching bag on the edge of the aisle. who can't resist punching one of those? i couldn't... most people can't. they see one they punch it... with their hands that is. aim handled the punching bag a little differently. as we approached the bag, i pointed it out and probably even gave it a few playful punches. aim on the other hand, without hesitation, unleashed a swift upward kick that nearly reached as high as her head directly onto the bag. did i mention she had on a somewhat fitting mid-calf length skirt? did i mention that we were casually walking down the open aisle of a department store one minute and then aim went all bruce lee on the bag the next? it was jaw dropping to say the least. impressive for someone who's not a ninja... i would know.

like i said therapeutic.

always where i need to be by the kooks



aim is punctual except for when she is getting ready to go somewhere. it takes her a while to get all gussied up, but i generally have no qualms about it since she's so easy on my eyes.

while i could draw some general comparisons to this song and our relationship, for purposes of this post, i choose to refer to one specific event in our marriage i'll call "the journey to jerome".

aim has a lot of family in idaho, what with both her parents hailing from the great potato state. it just so happens that these folks like to get together for family reunions and the like every so often. well, one friday during the winter of 1999 the in-laws and their extended family were all descending upon the motherland of the greater idaho falls area for one such get-together. of course we were invited, and of course we planned to go, but as is usually the case, some other commitment semi-interfered with the event making it so we would have to travel up separately from the rest of the family to get there.

to make a long story short, we were up late the night before we were to drive to idaho, we got up late for the event we had to be to in salt lake city the following morning before we headed to idaho, we were scrambling, we were hustling, we were frantic, but we miraculously made it to the first event on time and had a very pleasant experience considering. once that was done, with a huge sigh of relief, we hit the road with idaho falls on the radar (figuratively speaking, we didn't really have a radar in our car at the time). aim was tired so i drove and, as is usually the case, she soon entered the inviting comatose state of slumber she is so familiar with when serving as my wing-woman/navigator/pre-mapquest-cell phone ownership human gps system.

first problem, i had never been to idaho in my adult life. second problem, i asked aim for directions as we approached an apparently crucial fork in the interstate while she was asleep and she half answered, in her uneven state of mind, without ever really opening her eyes. third problem, i actually listened to aim as she said "stay left" and, being the man i am, felt no need to ask for further direction.

some two or three hours passed and we seemed to be making great time. i was like speed racer. we were going to make that family reunion afterall... but, then aim woke up, looked around and asked "where are we?" with a bit of a "what have you done?" tone in her voice. i looked at a sign and replied "we're in jerome, idaho."

never heard of it.

long story short (note to self: any time you say this twice within the same story, you are not making a long story short), we pulled into a gas station and found out we were pretty much on the wrong side of the state with no direct route from where we were to where we needed to be. that meant we had to go all the way back down to where i "stayed left" and actually go right. ctr. i should have known. that wasn't a very fun experience, especially since we were operating on little sleep, but it sure makes for a few good laughs these days... in fact, i think we should name our next kid, jerome.

nausea by beck



this song is just another reminder of a choice experience in our marriage that has to do with flan, old ladies and me playing a practical joke on aim, not to mention the severe bouts with all-day sickness aim gets when pregnant. unfortunately, due to time constraints, we'll have to save this story for another day.

let's just say that aim's not a fan of flan or being pregnant and it's probably my fault, in both cases.

my heart will go on/titanic theme song by celine dion



this is our dripping wet with cheese song that made its debut on our wedding video. one reason i am so interested in learning how to edit videos is so i can remove this song from our video. i really don't like it anymore. we were duped by all the titanic hype taking place about the time we got married. but, hey, it was leo di capprio... cut me some slack. celine's voice entranced us and we obeyed by selecting her ditty as the signature song to commence our lives together. it seemed beautiful at the time and in some ways it still makes me want to stand up on the front of a boat and fly like an eagle, but mostly it just makes we want to vomit, literally... in fact, i just threw up in my mouth.

unfortunately, to ignore this piece of work would be to ignore a foundational moment in aim's life. now, let's move on.

the heinrich maneuver by interpol



i just had to throw this song in because of the opening lines:

how are things on the west coast?
i hear you're moving real fine
you wear those shoes like a dove
let's cut those shoes
we'll go roaming in the night

aim likes the west coast, especially the beaches of the west coast. aim wears her shoes like a dove, all five hundred pairs of them. aim's a bit of a llegua as they would say in argentina, which translates to filly in english, which translates to a female horse in layman's english. think a female version of a wild mustang. in argentina it just means you're hot, for purposes of this post it means aim's hot and unbridled. she cannot be tamed. i don't mean to compare aim to a wild animal, but i do. i've tried to bridle her in, but i'm not sure she was meant to be harnessed... but that's half the fun. she wants to roam, but she's not a woman of the night. we've had some good times together i think to myself as i blankly stare off into the horizon at nothing in particular, lost in the familiar confines of nostalgia.

i'm back.

believe by the bravery



in my place by coldplay



let me just say as jrr tolkien said, "not all who wander are lost." i'll leave it at that. your time will come.

lastly, one of aim's favorites:

viva la vida by coldplay



aim loves this song. i must admit, it's a good one. coldplay's a solid group for the ages. aim's a solid woman for the ages... literally, she's pretty solid. ask her to let you pinch her thigh some time, it's like a rock.

actually, "viva la vida" pretty much means "live life" or "keep life alive" in english. aim does this. she's constantly trying to get the most out of herself and those around her. she's typically looking for the next worthwhile activity and how to enhance her and her family's experience with it. she cannot be underestimated as her abilities and potential are immeasurable though she may lead others to believe differently. she wants it all and she wants it now and i have a feeling before all is said and done, she'll probably get it. and when i say "it," i'm not talking about material things, i'm talking about personal satisfaction with what she's done and how she's done it.

this is the woman i love. she's imperfect, yet pure. beautiful, but blind to it. unsatisfied, yet satisfying. a butterfly and a bee.

happy birthday, babe!

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.