surpise, annie: it's a late birthday wish, but not nearly as surprising as choosing your own adventure

jeriann is the youngest of the greater cooper family and all of its six kids. like most babies of the family, she probably had it the easiest of all us. i don't have too many memories of her mowing lawns in the vegas heat (of course my mother forbade any of the females in the family from mowing the lawn because of an old wife's tale, i think she created, that said mowing lawns or lifting heavy objects would cause irreparable harm to a woman's baby-making parts and prevent her from ever having children... funny thing is that i didn't question my mom's assertion until i was in my early twenties), digging fruit tree holes in the backyard, weeding, doing dishes, vacuuming, washing windows, washing the car, and so on and so forth (you get the picture).

one thing i do remember about jeriann was that she was a saucy little girl who wasn't afraid of saying anything to anyone. she said a lot of funny things as a kid which made her pretty cute... well, that and the fact that she looked like a doll... literally.

another thing about annie is that she is a lot more mellow than the rest of the greater cooper family (maybe even me). whenever fireworks start to go off at big jeff and special k's pad, annie is rarely a part of it. apparently, she isn't as starved for attention or self-aggrandizement as the rest of us are.

also, annie was seldom impressed by my parents' efforts to bribe/impress us with nice dinners/hotel stays and the like. maybe that's because she never stayed at the dive motels outside disneyland as a kid while eating mexican ole cooked on a skillet brought by the fam in the friendly confines of the room while a drug bust took place down the hall. no, sir, it's always been embassy suites and benni hannas for little ann. good for her.

one last thing about annie: she says her name is jeriann, but i'm pretty sure it's jeri ann... at least that's what i've thought for most of my life (just the most part of my life since she's been alive). she claims it's one word, but i'm still not convinced... what makes her the ultimate authority on her name, anyway? i didn't even know that my middle name (kenneth) had two n's in it until i was on my mission. call me a birther, but i've requested her birth certificate as proof of spelling several times without success. jeri and barry: which one is lying? we'll never know until we see it on paper because paper never lies and can't be forged... ever.

in closing, i just want to rekindle what is sure to be a fond memory for my younger sister. this memory took place some eight or nine years ago while she was still living at home with the parents and aim and i were visiting from utah or california (i can't remember which one for sure). so, aim and i hopped into the pool's hot tub out back to relax and kiss passionately. my parents were out of town, jameson and caleb must have been asleep or not even born yet because it was just the two of us, and jeri ann was supposedly out with her friends.

aim and i were having a grand ol' time when all of a sudden jeri ann appears out of nowhere and by nowhere i mean she actually just walked out of my parents' house and toward us in the hot tub to have a chat. no big deal. the bubbles were rumbling. there's nothing out of the ordinary going on here. just two married people sitting in the hot tub. speak your mind and be on your way.

so, she did and, unfortunately, she noticed what i thought she wouldn't: someone in the hot tub had lost an article of clothing which was sitting outside the tub on the ground. note to zombies: she noticed that this article of clothing was missing because she saw the article of clothing on the ground and not the exposed body part/s it was meant to cover... hot tub bubbles are a naked body's friend.

it wasn't that awkward, but it was pretty funny. to this day, though, i'm not sure she really knows what was going on in that hot tub, so i thought i should explain, briefly, via this public forum in the format of a choose your own adventure book:

one evening mr. and mrs. blogmaster arrived in las vegas hot and tired from a long day's drive through the scorching desert sands of the mojave. being ever so keen as to all things las vegas, mr. blogmaster suggested to his one true love, "hey, why don't we take a nice cool dip in my parent's pool?"

"that sounds swell, honey, i love to swim. we can have a good old fashioned pool party. where's the beach ball?" she eagerly replied.

"i'm not sure if anyone is home, my love, but we can swim anyway seeing as how you are a trained lifegaurd who used to watch baywatch in your red swimsuit. what could go wrong?" mr. blogmaster added.

"alright, sweety pie. let's go swimming."

and so off they skipped, hand in hand, donning their very fashionable abercombie and fitch swimwear and looking much like the models wearing the same clothes in the catalogue they saw that inspired them to buy the garb in the first place... at least this is what they thought in their shallow minds. but then, as they approached the pool's hot tub, mr. blogmaster jumped so high as he made his grand entry into the water that:

1. mr. blogmaster's swimsuit was unable to withstand the inertia of his fall and the extreme amount of pressure forced his swimsuit off in mid air. if you choose this option, please proceed to paragraph one.

2. upon seeing such a spectacle of adept athleticism, mrs. blogmaster's competitive juices began to flow and she challenged mr. blogmaster to a five hundred lap race in the hot tub. if you choose this option, please proceed to paragraph two.

paragraph 1: upon losing his swimsuit as the result of his death-defying swan dive, mr. blogmaster sheepishly looked up at his adoring wife and said, "wow, i guess i'm too big for my own britches?"

"that doesn't make sense," mrs. blogmaster shot back.

"i know, buttercup!" her husband retorted.

they both laughed at mr. blogmaster's silliness as mrs. blogmaster joined her man in the tub and they continued to gartuitously laugh like fools at the end of a sitcom until mr. blogmaster's sister, jeri ann, arrived. mr. and mrs. blogmaster had been laughing so hard they hadn't even noticed that mr. blogmaster had forgotten to put his trunks back on. this was the cherry on top as jeri ann turned bright red at the awkwardness of what was before her.

fortunately, laughter is the remedy of all and they jointly laughed in unison the rest of the night thanks to mr. blogmaster's aloof actions and an inability to maturely discuss the birds and bees as grown adults.

the end.

paragraph two: mr. blogmaster, ever the competitor, angered, yet intrigued by mrs. blogmaster's challenge rent his swimming garment in scorn and as a signal that he was accepting the challenge placed before him. upon renting his swimming garment, it occurred to mr. blogmaster that the drag from the dangling threads and shards of a and f cloth would take precious seconds off of his swim time and prevent him from defeating the adroit swimmer also known as aim the clownfish.

suddenly, mr. blogmaster ripped the remainder of his suit from his body and tossed it just outside the hot tub while clenching his fists and flexing his concrete like pecks and breathing heavily. he resembled a bull ready to take on the taunting matador in his path or a vampire ready to devour his prey (he pretty much looked like edward from twilight but mixed with a bull and with a better tan).

unaffected by mr. blogmaster's attempt at machismo intimidation, mrs. blogmaster gracefully dove into the hot tub and the race was on. it was fierce. the two specimens swam strongly round and round right round like a record baby right round round round to the point that a whirlpool began to form as a result of the centrifugal forces at work.

mr. blogmaster's sister, jeri ann, astutely noticed all the loose items of property in the backyard reluctantly being pulled towards the vortex of the scathing whirlpool. this worried jeri ann as she noticed the finely sewn a and f piece of clothing sitting just outside the mouth of the hot tub. she raced to its resuce only to notice two mermaid like creatures swimming neck and neck at a neck-breaking pace in the profound depths of the hot tub.

suddenly she realized, these were no mermaids, these were her brother and his wife: the blogmasters. not wanting her family members to be swallowed up in the unfathomable fathoms of her parents' hot tub, she sang like ariel from the little mermaid (when she was getting her voice back) ... something she had done hundreds of times before as she had watched the video every day for two years straight as a little girl ... a siren-like call which mr. and mrs. blogmaster heard and beckoned unto.

at once, the madness stopped and when all was calm again, the three family members embraced, forgave, and shed tears as the sun set in the distance and ursula the sea witch was once again thwarted (note to zombies: mr. blogmaster put his swimming trunks back on before all of the hugging and stuff took place).

the end.

so, in summary, let me just say happy birthday, jeriann and don't worry about the swimsuit you saw outside the hot tub that day.

ten glimpses into the cooperfive's last couple weeks: read at your own risk

for starters, i apologize for not reaching my six posts goal per month last month. i had a little blogger's block towards the end of the month. that and life with 3 kids involved in various carricular activities, involvement in church service, work, and the new fall slate of tv shows starting up all took a grip of my time and blogging to a back seat to more important activities. i promise to make it up to you this month.

unfortunately, the blogger's block hasn't necessarily gone away, but i decided i couldn't let conference weekend (check here if you don't know what conference is: www.lds.org) pass without making some serious headway on my delinquent blogging behavior. that's just not me (to let so much time pass without much content)... i am the blogmaster after all. what does this mean for you, zombies? here's what that means for you: today, right now, this very second, i am going go post a somewhat hectic post. there may not be an overall plot or coherent message one could string together upon reading the words of this post, but at least there will be something on the internet for you to read since nothing else on the net has probably changed since my last post.

here we go...

first. aim read my last post after i edited it to account for my losing colston at the cowboy party. she confronted me and i attempted to laugh it off hoping she would reciprocate. she gave me a kind of half smile. good enough for me... i'm in the clear. note to zombies: i really did change the post after aim read it.

second. jameson told aim that we can't have another boy because he didn't think he would be able to handle it. aim asked: "well, what if we had a girl?" jameson replied that he's never had one of those as a sibling and wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle a sister either. note to zombies: aim is not pregnant.

third. aim is now reading the time traveler's wife for a friend of ours who had purchased the book but balked on reading it because of the profanities and adult themed material found therein. being the true friend she is, aim offered to not only read the book for said friend but to edit it for her as well. that's my wife! as such, mrs. blogmaster can occasionally be seen with pencil in hand perusing the book and making her mark. i recommended she substitute any f-bombs with the commonly substituted euphemism: "flippity-floo." note to zombies: said friend requested that she not get too righteous when editing the love scenes.

fourth. we travelled to utah thursday evening to get out of dodge for a few days, spend some time with the in-laws, watch some conference in the motherland, and catch a byu game. the trip was a standard one for us. me putting on a concert. the boys fighting. the boys urinating in bottles, etc. etc. ... once one starts, it's contagious. jameson is a pro at this point. caleb can do it with minimal spillage. colston, who's still in a diaper, wants to join in the fun upon seeing his brothers take care of their business... all in good time, my son, but until then: keep your pampers on, kiddo. note to zombies: the bottle tactic only works if you have all boys.

fifth. we finally partook of the much ballyhooed five guys burgers in st. george, utah . while good, all the hype was not quite justified... especially considering the price. eating there only strengthened my testimony in in-n-out burger. cheaper and better. note to zombies: people who don't get in-n-out, don't get that they don't get in-n-out. it's up to you.

sixth. after unsuccessfully trying for a couple of years, we finally partook of the infamous jdawgs in provo, utah. in this case, the hype was well justified. best hot dog i've ever had in my life and it's not even close... plus they had apple beer. whoever thought pork by-product could be so good? it's beyond me why this place hasn't spread to other college campuses across the world. note to zombies: i'm salivating just thinking about it.

seventh. aim is informed by her brother that her alma mater (provo high) is now proudly displaying a photo of her from her cheerleading days at the same school on the wall of its main hallway . we visit the school to take a peek and discover that he wasn't lying (see pic). apparently, walmart isn't the only institution interested in displaying mrs. blogmaster on its walls.



of course, aim doesn't like the picture. i think it's great... a cute (yes, i said cute; but, sorry babe, you were a minor in the picture, to say anything stronger than cute would be weird, if not creepy or gross. and, yes, i know you don't want to be "just cute, d*&%! it!") bright eyed bushy tailed lil' ms. blogmaster-to-be. it serves its purpose. note to zombies: aim can pose for a custom pic to hang on your walls, too.

eighth. aim and i particpated in an eq activity in which social dance instruction is administered. we had a good time doing some rumba and cha cha (my personal favorite). after watching lots of so, you think you can dance? i feel ready to cut a rug and show off my lines and inner strength. we try a lift. aim approaches me confidently and then does a little bunny hop before gracefully leaping into my arms... gracefully except for the part where her skirt fluttered open like a parachute as it pushed against the air below showing off a portion of her religion. luckily, only like five people were watching and i think only about four of them noticed. we'll keep working on it.

note to zombies: we actually have some video of a somewhat robotic rumba and dip, but aim has forbade me from posting it. maybe i'll post it after aim reads this.

ninth. update fromt the twilight zone. i am about 150 pages into twilight. so far, not so bad. also, i'm feeling more secure about reading the book as i have been openly sharing with others the fact that i am reading it and all sorts of other manly men i know and respect are suddenly coming out of the twilight reading closet (firemen, electricians, etc... and, no, i'm not talking about the village people). good for us.

my take thus far:

edward is essentially the perfect man except that he sucks blood for a living and could, and would, kill any human being on the planet upon the slightest provocation. other than that, i'm sure any parent would be thrilled to see him show up on his/her doorstep with a dozen roses and ready to pick up his/her daughter for a date. note to zombies: this is why it is better to have all boys, they typicaly don't fall for the vampire type.

tenth. mrs. blogmaster wants me to be peter pan for halloween. babe, i'll read the notebook, i'll read twilight, i'll watch romantic comedies and let you paint the boys finger and toenails, but i've got to draw the line somewhere... and wearing green tights seems like as good a place as any... unless of course you want me to be green lantern. note to zombies: i'll do anything for love, but i won't do that.

a weekend without aim

a couple of weekends ago mrs. blogamaster went out of town to help a cousin with a wedding reception. i held the fort down at home while keeping an eye on the three headed tornado otherwise known as our sons. it was the first time i have been the sole parent in the household with the three boys for an entire weekend. it was an experience. nothing like a weekend with the kids to instill a whole new level of appreciation for the lovelier side of mr. and mrs. blogmaster.

here's how it went:

friday 3:00: i race home from work to pick up aim and drive her to the airport. i'm also picking up the boys to drop them off at the hanson's because kurt has volunteered elizabeth to watch our three boys while kurt and i attend a networking social event. are you sure you don't want to check with elizabeth first, kurt?

kurt assured me it was all good. i knew mrs. blogaster would balk at the thought, but all seemed well until we actually dropped the kids off and suddenly remembered that the hansons have 2.5 year old triplets(i think i actually got the 3 headed tornado moniker from kurt). luckily, elizabeth was an absolute saint about the whole thing, but aim empathized with sister elizabeth all too well and was not happy with my agreeing to this arrangement.

even i feel bad for elizabeth at this point. i try to smooth things over by telling her that i'll make sure kurt and i skip out on the after-networking event dinner party. she replies that she and kurt had a talk and there would be no need to talk kurt out of the dinner. we reluctantly leave, sans kids, so aim doesn't miss her flight.

mrs. blogmaster voices her displeasure in me on the way to the airport. i unsuccessfully try to deflect blame onto kurt. i assure aim that i will return to get the kids after i drop her off and skip the networking event knowing full well elizabeth would have nothing of the sort.

i drop off aim and then call kurt to make sure elizabeth was ok with the arrangement (since, apparently, kurt speaks for elizabeth) and then call elizabeth to apologize profusely while offering to come back and get the kids in order to assuage the crushing feeling of guilt i am now experiencing.

i get her voicemail... that made it easier. elizabeth eventually calls back and tells me it's all good. she wouldn't lie, would she?

friday 4:30: kurt and i get to lake las vegas and embark in the networking activity which literally involved embarking on a dragon boat and learning how to row in rhythm for an upcoming charitable event race. it was bloody hot. i met a pirate. actually, just a pirate actor from the sirens of ti show. he was much shorter than i thought a pirate would be.

rowing is harder than i thought... especially when it is bloody hot outside. we finish and i am happy to be done. elizabeth calls and says she is ok with us going to dinner but doing so would be more than i could bare emotionally, thus, kurt and i leave lake las vegas and head back to desert las vegas.

friday 7:30: i pick up my brother kendall to stay the night with us on the way back home. he has his backpack chalk full of who knows what and two large bottles of water that he carries with him everywhere he goes. don't ask because i don't know why. i pick up the kids and thank elizabeth to the point that it begins to sound disingenuous, but i meant it.

friday night: we head home and watch some smallville. time for bed. big day ahead of us on saturday starting with soccer games at 8:00 am. i'll need my strength.

saturday 7:00: alarm goes off, i hit the snooze.

saturday 7:10: alarm goes off, i hit the snooze again.

saturday 7:20: i consider hitting the snooze one last time, but exert a smidge of discipline: time to get up. the race begins. i tell the kids to get ready thinking they might actually cooperate because our last name forms a majority of the word "cooperate." who are we kidding? no such luck. now i am literally running while trying to get together caleb's uniform and the like for the game, changing cole's diaper, barking out orders to jameson, trying to get some bananas and toast ready for breakfast, throwing one diaper and a bag of wetwipes in a backpack to serve as my makeshift diaper bag and tracking down caleb's cleats, shin-guards, and socks.

saturday 7:50: i start to put on caleb's cleats, shin-guards (the kind that are built into a sock), and uniform socks (yeah, that's right, pretty much two pairs of socks)and enter into child-sock-and-shoe-putting on purgatory. have you ever tried to put a pair of cleats on a kid who is already wearing two pairs of thick soccer socks? where's the lubricant? i'd rather put a skull cap on a porcupine.

saturday 8:15: we get the gear on and head to the game. we arrive and notice that as we are headed to the fields everyone is heading towards us to get to their cars (is there a fire or something?)... not a good sign. we were late. guess we missed the opening ceremony. i won't mention this to aim until she reads this post (sufficient time has passed to the point where she will just laugh at my follies... i hope).

i have no idea what time the games starts. with my luck it won't start for a couple hours. i'm in luck (must be someone else's)... the game starts in .5 hours. it's bloody hot and i didn't bring water for the kids. but i brought a diaper.... and a bag of wet wipes, that's got to be worth something. perhaps we can wring the moisture out of the wipes to avoid dehydration.

saturday 8:30: i snap some shots of the boys to kill some time (see below).

saturday 9:00: the game starts. it's still bloody hot (it's friggin' 9:00 in the morning... why am i living in a desert? idaho must be nice right now). caleb hustles and does well. i'm proud of the lad's heart, but the skills could use some polishing. this reflects poorly on the boy's father, i think to myself and suddenly feel less of a father. i'll get over it.

a random lady gives caleb a bottle of water. clearly she understands my plight. at least one son won't die of dehydration.

saturday 10:00: the game ends. we march back to the car, take kendall home and head back to the homestead, but not before picking up a cowboy hat for the evening's festivities.

saturday 11:30: the byu game is about to start. the boys are keeping themselves busy. i might actually get to watch the game.

the game starts and all of a sudden the boys are hungry. i tell them to go downstairs and make some toast as an appetizer and that i'll be down at the commercial to make them something slightly more substantive. they head down.

commercials start and i hurry down only to find all three boy walking towards me with one bowl each and a proud/anxious smile. and why wouldn't they be proud? they'd just poured themselves three bowls of brown sugar (nothing else) and were getting ready to dig into this wholesome lunch with their spoons in hand. oh boy. i'll tell aim about this one later tonight.

i make some mac and cheese (always a crowd favorite).

we watch the game and the boys behave themselves quite well.

saturday 1:30: the game isn't over, but i inform jameson that he needs to start getting ready for his baseball game (byu has a safe lead) which in my mind means get everything on including your cleats, hat and glove since those items always seem to be missing come departure time; unfortunately, in his mind this means get everything on except for your cleats, hat, and glove since those items will typically just automatically appear once we are in the car. this instance is no exception.

saturday 2:00: we find his stuff and hit the road. we get to the game. there is some cloud coverage. maybe it won't be so bloody hot. it's not. the game goes well. the team wins and james has a triple. way to go, son.

time to jet home and get changed before mrs. kitty's ranch gets underway. it's a party, but when big jeff pays the way he expects you to be on time.... did i say it was a party and not church? (i'm more of the fashionably late type). i'll do my best big j, but i'm a single parent this weekend coming from a baseball game.

saturday 4:30: we get home and start moving in fast forward while trying to get ready and arrive on time (not gonna happen). i change colston's diaper (maybe for the first time all day). i shave off my scruff to expose the 'stache. i get dressed and get the kids' clothes on.

i enter something worse than putting-kids'-cleats-on purgatory, putting-on-kids'-cowboy-boots-that-are-maybe-a-half-size-to-small-for-them-along-with-a-pair-of-wrangler-jeans-that-are-definitely-at-least-one-size-too-small-for-colston purgatory. after exerting some serious effort, i get colston's pants on upon which he begins to worriedly protest while doing strained squats for emphasis: "too small, daddy, too small." too bad, bucko, i've worked too hard for this... just stay close to the fainting couch.

miraculously, i get both sets of boots on caleb and colston. unfortunately, i put colston's shirt on caleb. you can't tell... that much. aim notices right away upon viewing the pics.

saturday 5:30: we head out thinking we are late only to discover my parents had misled me as to the starting time thinking if they told me it started a half hour earlier than it actually did i would get there on time. not bloody likely. dare ye tempt the laws of nature? my tardiness is as certain as gravity, especially when i am without the aid of my better half. no man made shenanigans can change that.

we drive fast but this place as about as far away as you can get from our house. we're late. no biggie. the kids take off and, at this point, i don't seem to care. they're on their own. actually, i keep an eye on colston. those tight jeans might attract the wrong crowd or he might pass out.

saturday 8:30: i'm ready to hit the road. i round up the posse and we make for the hills. where's colston? some lady found him on the other side of the party crying. i won't tell aim this until... well, maybe never. in fact, i'm not typing this in until after she reads the post, so if you're reading this, aim has already read it.

saturday 9:15: we get home and i peel off the attire and throw the kids in bed. i catch some tv to unwind and then make my way to the bedroom. sunday is right around the corner and that means a whole new round of getting kids dressed and pitting shoes on. i'll need my strength and some divine intervention. i've never read it, but aren't there like nine levels of hell in dante's hell? some of them must involve putting on kids' shoes three times within three days.

anyway, i'll spare you the sunday detail except to say that as we pulled into the church parking lot i remembered i was supposed to sub for james' class. how's that for preparation?

that and the boys were starving after church... too bad we were out of brown sugar.

aim (and all stay at home parents), i tip my cowboy hat to you!!!

i read the notebook, then watched the notebook, then grew a mustache (in that order)

yes, it's true. i read the notebook. maybe you're all laughing out loud at me like the three guys i told over lunch the other day (thing is, one of the guyss laughing had actually read a walk to remember... what? the audacity!) aim recently checked the notebook out from the library and read it in a day. sounded suspicious to me and i like to look into suspicious activities, so my natural curiosity, coupled with the fact that mrs. blogmaster thought it would be a good idea, prompted me into agreeing to read the book (notebook, that is) to her before bed each night.

don't judge me.

i started reading the book about a week ago. it only took a few nights to complete it. i would read it each night... out loud, of course... while being careful to constantly check see if aim was awake. no way was i reading that thing to myself, this was a classic example of taking one for the team (the thought alone makes me feel like i'm morphing into a woman).

i got through it and, in the end, i actually enjoyed it (although the detailed descriptions of old age were a little depressing, especially since alzheimer's runs in the family). funny thing is, while i was reading the book, i kept relating personally to each of the main characters in a different, but major, way: the main chick was a painter trying to make a difficult choice of whether to stay with her fiancee or drop him and go back to her old flame... i like to paint and don't ask about the other part; then there was the main romantic hunk who could make women melt in his calloused from hard work hands by simply reciting and writing poetry ad nauseam (and he liked crab)... i like to write poetry and the other comparisons should be obvious (and i like crab); and then there was the fiancee lawyer who also had dashing good looks, but worked too much... 'nuff said.

i found i was constantly likening myself to these characters and when i decided to make mention of this to aim thinking she had drawn the same comparisons, she asked which one i felt related to and how. the first one that came to mind was noah, the romantic poetry reciting dreamboat guy and so that's what i said, to which aim incredulously replied "really?" ouch. she wasn't buying it. i can dream.

anyway, we finished the book and... believe it or not... since neither of us had ever seen the movie, we decided to watch it before mrs. blogmaster took off for the weekend. and we did. i enjoyed it, but at the risk of sounding cliche let me just say that i liked the book a little more. the movie wasn't bad (i know that may be seen as sacrilege in most women's eyes), but it just wasn't all i was hoping it would be based on the plethora of females who declare this to be the most romantic movie ever. sorry ladies.

and that was that.

next thing i knew, aim was taking off to idaho for a wedding reception. not long after, i began the arduous task of regaining some personal machismo by spending the weekend participating in manly activities with my three boys.

first order of business: grow a mustache. nothing like a mustache to make you feel like a man again (try it sometime, women... if you're ever curious. it's cheaper than a sex change and less permanent), plus we had a cowboy themed event to attend on saturday and i swore while attending the same event the prior year that come hell or highwater i would don mustache at the event the following year (this year). for the inquiring minds of the zombie faithful: yes, that event was the one held at ms. kitty's ranch. go back and read that post on the ranch for one of the all time cooperfive greats.

btw, thanks for the cowboy hat, erik. it looked great.

with that in mind, i didn't shave all week. i was getting pretty scruffy come saturday afternoon, but i'm a little mustache/goatee challenged so it wasn't all bad. i let it grow though, and on the night of the event i carefully manicured the facial hair down in an attempt to get some handlebars going. yeah.

unfortunately, facial hair doesn't grow really well at the edges of my mouth so after bic'ing off the rest of the growth, i essentially had a mustache and two patches of hair at the bottom of each side of my mouth. it looked a little freaky and probably would have scared the kids so i shaved off the outliers and just kept the 'stache. unfortunatelier, my mustache was pretty weak and didn't garner a single comment all night. needless to say, i was feeling pretty disappointed on that account but not any less manly (i could feel it inside). perhaps i should have let the chest hair flair like i'd originally planned? but it just wasn't working. anyway, take a look at the pics and bust out the magnifying glass so you can spot the 'stache. i'll give it a month next year.

regardless of my stubble, i think we all can agree that the 'stache was sufficient to get my man card reissued. funny thing is, i got this crazy idea that mrs. blogmaster and i should read another book that appeals to the feminine mystique. go figure. long story short, we decided on twilight today (i am on a quest to see what all the fuss is about and whether it is worth it... i'll be sure to let you know).

here's the thing: aim lent her copy of twilight to someone and hasn't gotten it back yet. for some odd reason, she's scared to ask for it... maybe it's hot. problem with that is that we've got to strike while the iron's hot... who knows for how much longer i'll be willing to read twilight? so, with that certain sense of urgency in mind, while discussing the quandary with aim on the phone today, she suggested that i ask one of the members of the world-wide twilight cult that i work with (don't kid yourselves women, you're pretty much all a part of it whether you want to admit it or not). for that matter, i probably could have asked any random female on the street and odds are she'd have a copy.

my reply to aim's request: "aim, that's like asking me to buy tampons for you." no man should have to do this. we will, but... i'm not even going to explain.

so, just as i've done the latter for my wife before, i fell on my sword and asked the grand wizard of our office's branch of the twilight cult if she happened to have a copy of the book on her and if i could borrow it if she did. she had three. unfortunately none of theme were on her person at the time and so aim has been charged with coming back from yoga with a copy tonight. we'll see.

lucky for aim it's a full moon and i can feel the feminine nature in me taking over already.

alright, as usual, this has gone on for way too long and is starting to get a little our of hand. so in an effort to make things more sensible around here once again, take pause to enjoy the handsome young cowboys in the pics below (all four of them). oh, and if c-town's pants look a little too tight, that's because they are... more on that coming soon.

message received loud and clear: here are more pics of the cooperfive and one of the first sightings of my bald spot

a faithful zombie recently requested some more face time with the cooperfive. i know this is good for one's self-esteem (to view pics of the coopfive)... and because of that coupled with the fact that this particular zombie is fully dedicated to the blog, i am willing to oblige.

to be more specific, the zombie i am referring to asked for some more pics of the fam... i can do that. i have the technology. furthermore, i apologize for being so remiss in exploiting the family a little more... but keep in mind there is always a picture of mrs. blogmaster and c-town in your local walmart. so, if you are ever needing a cooperfive pic fix, just wander down to your local walmart to catch a gander. plus, you can take part in supporting corporate america while doing so. few things would make me prouder of my zombies.

without further adieu, here are some pics from the cooperfive's recent trip to san diego and the wild animal park, seaworld and the beach. enjoy... and please don't give me a hard time over the small, but growing, bald spot on the back of my crown. you probably won't even notice (as i say this, i am intently awaiting your reaction to confirm my assertion while trying to act all apathetic... you know what i'm talking about).

alright, since i've started now, one quick little adieu...

when i saw that pic (the one with my bald spot), a part of me died. i've always had a healthy head of lettuce. i shampoo and use conditioner often, but aim doesn't let me touch the expensive product stuff. i guess it's partially her fault. unfortunately, i think age has something to do with it and, as such, things aren't likely to get better.

all i know is that each morning i notice a few more hairs in my hands after washing my hair than i used to. in the past, this didn't affect me in the slightest since i've always had a more than healthy growth of foliage up top... more than my fair share, e.g. birds could have nested there and i wouldn't have noticed (i may have even challenged my hairs to come on out if they dare, see if i care!). not so anymore (i care now). the hairline is receding and thinning out and, consequently, i am seriously starting to look into some preventative medicine and black magic to delay the inevitable.

i'll take a few swings at the windmills of old age before going down, but i'm not messing around with a comb over, plugs, or a toupee. once it starts to go and is pretty noticeable, it's getting bic'd.

do you hear that follicles? you're officially put on notice. don't say i didn't warn you. once you start to depart, there ain't no turning back... gone. il finito. hence forth and forever. my way, or the highway. (please consider my way).

i pause to see how my follicles react to my threats

i don't feel you growing any faster. did you hear me? do i need to repeat myself?

alright, i'll give you one more chance and then i'm grabbing the shaving cream (do you see why mrs. blogmaster might get frustrated with me as a disciplinarian?).

here's the problem with going bald. it works for some dudes, but not so much for others. take for instance, me. i have a big head. figuratively and literally. but, we're just talking literal here for now. maybe the swelling never went down from the time i got it stuck in the pulpit (see prior post), or maybe i was just born that way. judging by the size of my dad and brother's noggins, i'd say it's more of the latter... hereditary, in other words. my point is that the bald thing doesn't work so much for guys with big heads unless you want to be mistaken for a chemo patient or sloth from goonies. not really the look i'm going for.

just cross your fingers and hope it doesn't come to that. in the meantime. enjoy the pics for real... no more tangential discussions about my physical appearance, although that's what you get when you ask for pics.

any other requests, zombies?