If you don’t know me, you have probably figured out that I consider myself a Christian. I am not a big fan of “religion”, but believe in the Bible as being literal.
“So you believe the world is only like 6,000 years old?!”
“You believe that God brought a global flood?! Then where did the water go if that is true?!”
“You really believe Jesus died and came back to life?! That has to be an elaborate hoax by his devoted followers to make Jesus bigger than he really was!”
“How can you believe in a literal Heaven and Hell, and that a loving God would send people he created to a suffering eternal Hell?!”
Simply: Yes. Yes. Yes. God doesn’t “send” people to Hell, but Hell is real.
My faith is personal, it is unwavering, and it is based on both the matters of the supernatural as well as scientific fact.
“Wait, Science? Ok. Now you go too far, Science has eliminated GOD!”
I would beg to differ, and I am willing to explain that it takes more faith to be an atheist these days than it does to believe in God. If you genuinely want to know about those questions above, my email is always available. jmprebish@gmail.com. Just be prepared for an answer that might take longer than just a quick paragraph.
But that is not what this post is about…
If you haven’t heard, the end of the world is this Saturday, May 21st. Specifically it is going to be around 6pm. Also keep in mind that God is apparently time zone sensitive and will wait for 6pm even if you are in a different time zone. God’s choice of destruction? An earthquake that will continue to follow 6pm around the globe for 24 hours. This is the very public opinion of Harold Camping. Google it, or just click on any news link these days.
Mr. Camping apparently got this date and time from his meticulous studies of the Bible. If I can figure correctly his logic is something like this:
Genesis 7: 4 - Seven days from now I will send rain on the earth for forty days and forty nights, and I will wipe from the face of the earth every living creature I have made.”
2 Peter 3: 8 - But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.
If you do some creative connection of the alleged dots, 7 days for god equals 7,000 years for us. And so through Bible lineages I imagine Mr. Camping has determined that creation or the fall of man was 7,000 years go. How he got 6pm, I have no clue.
Genesis 7 deals with the story of Noah and the flood. It is not bible prophecy intended to be decoded. 2 Peter 3 is talking about the timelessness of God. It isn’t a conversion table! Under this logic, It took Jesus 3,000 years to raise from the dead.
What offends me, is that Harold Camping is being referred to by the media as a “Christian”. This means that I, admittedly being a Christian, am in the same boat as Mr. Camping. Gentleman like Mr. Camping do more harm to the Christian faith than good. Skeptics are already scoffing at this prediction, and rightly so. After all, the same Mr. Camping already wrote a book and predicted the second coming back in 1994. Apparently, he had a math error.
The problem is that even non-believers know enough about the Bible to understand this is fantasy. If non-believers know that Bible talks about no one, not even Jesus knowing the time of Christ’s return, what does that say about Mr. Camping and his “meticulous studies”? It says they weren’t meticulous at all. It basically solidifies non-believers thoughts on why they don’t need Christianity because they see bold proclamations like this and see a complete lack of logic. Christianity then become a part of the “fantasy” world.
The non-believers may not know the location of the reference, but the important verses are below:
Matthew 24: 10-11 - At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people.
Matthew 24:36 - But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
See, the Bible is not an ancient book that requires unique knowledge to “decode”. I imagine even if you have never opened up a Bible, you understand what those versus above are saying. It is easy to discount the Christian Faith if you have never looked at it honestly to form an educated opinion about it. It is easy to take people like Harold Camping and attach “loony” and “cult” to all Christians. Christianity is very simple. It is not a life of strict rule following and eliminating all fun in life. It is a life of freedom. Another verse in the Bible is pretty clear about this simplicity as well:
Jeremiah 29:13 - You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
So my prediction is simple. The world will not end on May 21st 2011 @ 6pm. I know this, because of Matthew 24:36. I didn’t do any creative decoding or interpretations. I just looked at the Bible. I read it, and took it as being literal.
If you genuinely want to know, honestly seek the truth wherever it takes you. If you don’t know where to start, email me, jmprebish@gmail.com, and I can start you down that path. It isn’t my job to “sell you”, just give you information to allow you to draw your own conclusion. It is the genuine seeking part that is key.
If only Harold Camping would genuinely seek the The Truth.
Jon
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Man Code
There are certain things in life that have “unwritten rules”. You never took a course in high school on these things, you learned them from social experience. From what I can tell, these cods vary by gender. For example, Man Code in a public bathroom is FAR different than Woman code. You already know what I am saying. If we were out at dinner and I mentioned I had to go to the restroom, and looked at the other guy with us at dinner and said something like “do you wanna come?” Awkwardness would emerge as thick as a winter blanket, with no obvious escape route. Dudes don’t pee together, and if they do happen to both need to relieve themselves say after a ballgame, you don’t talk to each other while taking care of business. It’s Man Code. If a woman at dinner had to go to the ladies room and asked the accompanying female if she needed to go, they would both hop up and walk off and no one would even give it a second thought. What goes on in there, I have no idea. Perhaps there is an ongoing contest that guys are not privileged to be aware of. Sort of like words-with-friends, but only for women, and only in public bathrooms. For example:
(warning: this would fall under the immature category)
See, perhaps that is just one example of the mystery behind female public restrooms. Perhaps there is a running total that guys aren’t even aware of. It’s just a part of the Women Code. There’s an App for that.
There is a similar man code that all guys follow. We are all aware of if, except a few socially dysfunctional guys who were apparently absent in grade school when this seminar was given. Thos rare confluences of social ineptitude breaking the man code are moments of pure agony, and so long as you are not the one, who’s man code is being violated, it can be pure awesomeness.
Just such an occurrence is the point of this post.
Now for those who are unfamiliar with the inner workings of a Men’s public restroom, we have fewer stalls for…well, we have less battle stations. We will just leave it at that. We instead usually have a wall of urinals. This is where man’s glorious ability to pee standing up plays out every day. Now here is the thing. There is a process by which a Urinal is selected. I am sure there are mass studies on Population behavior in some university of higher learning that can put this decision making process into an equation were “x” equals the number of urinals, and “n” equals the number of urinals being attended to, and the square root of “y” over “a” is the mathematical probabilities of the number of arrangements possible between “x” and “n”. However, like physics defining an equation for what a pencil falls when you let go of it, dudes, do this math in like .25 nanoseconds of observation of “x” and “n”. After many years of practice, we all become experts. There are a few rules to this.
Let’s use my work set up as a point of demonstration. We have a wall of 4 urinals. I’d say 80 % of the time, you go in and enjoy the privilege of a good “stand and pee” (sorry ladies) in the peace and tranquility of the sound of liquid hitting porcelain. Perhaps another 15% of the time, you show up while one person is already there. See now it is a bit like chess. Depending on how player one made is initial selection, you have certain decision. If the first player selected the farthest urinal leaving the three adjacent urinals free, you would likely select the furthest one from the first player. I two urinal spread is ideal. If however, the furthest urinal is made for potty training and is about ankle high, you are allowed to move one over and use the man height one, so long as you are looking straight down and focus on the task at hand. 1 urinal gap is acceptable. What is not acceptable is when player 2 decided he wants to use the urinal right next to player 1 when there are 2 other perfectly functional urinals that allow for the 1 or 2 gap urinal. This is a violation of the man code. Another example might be if the first player chooses the 3rd urinal. By rule number 1, this eliminates the 4th and the 2nd urinal. Your option becomes easy. Urinal 1. It can be a little awkward if urinal one happens to be one of those potty training ones since you voluntarily chose to pee into the training urinal when 2 perfectly good man urinals were available. This is a sacrifice that is necessary in order to avoid violating rule 1 of urinal spacing, and keeping the man code intact.
I figure you are getting the picture at this point.
To drive my point home here, you can imagine that when bathroom designers don’t consider the man code, things like this are bound to happen:
So all of that brings me to this; on some random insignificant day I made this journey to the men’s room, ready to make those split second decisions on which urinal I was going to deposit my ice tea from lunch into. As it turned out, I was player 1. I chose urinal 4 so in the event that someone else came by, they had an easy decision. Sure enough, player 2 came along, and chose urinal 2. Again, no issues, man code intact, continue as normal. Sure enough, Player 3 came along. Now Player 3 had a difficult decision to make in my book. As he entered however, I could tell something was a bit wrong. He entered the bathroom in a celebratory congratulations mood as if World War 2 and just ended. In a loud bellowing tone he greeted someone else at eh hand washing sinks, and after brief “how do you do’s” proceeded to the urinal bank. Now timing had a bit to do with this. As he came to the urinals to make his selection, myself and player 2 were still occupying urinals 4 and 2 respectively. He decided to choose urinal 1 about the time that I was finished and departing for the sinks. This unfortunate timing left player 2 having the slight sense of having his man code been violated. What happened next was unexpected. Player 3 slapped player 2 on the back like they were old buddies from college and struck up a conversation. As I passed I smirked at the awkward awesomeness about to take place, because if there was a question as to whether or not the man code was violated by urinals election, there was no question that touching and talking were WAY past the man code limit. As I washed my hands, the following conversation took place:
P3: “Hey! I haven’t seen you in forever man! It’s been way too long, what have you been up to?”
P2: “eh, just work.” (clearly, he was hoping this conversation would stop as soon as possible and was trying to finish up, but you know, you can’t stop mid-stream, it burns!)
P3: “That’s cool. Say, don’t you have a few kids? Didn’t you just recently have a daughter?”
P2: “yeah” (again, I can only sense the immense panic as the conversation continues and he scrambles to try and get out of this situation)
P3: “How is your daughter?”
P2: (at this point player 2 is so flustered that he probably isn’t thinking straight, and can’t understand what horrible thing he did to deserve this unending embarrassment…so I forgive him for his response…) “Well, she’s not retarded.”
P3: (clearly aghast at this answer) “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Meanwhile, I am almost rolling on the floor and gasping for air as this all unfolds. I couldn’t make this sort of thing up.
P2: “uh…she’s, you know, healthy” (he has finally gotten to a point of seeing the light at the end of this horrible tunnel and is way more interested at getting out of here)
P3: “yeah, but man, you can’t say that though!”
At this point I left because Player 2 had escaped “peegate”. As I left, I heard Player 2, say…
P2: “well, you know, I’m glad she is healthy, good talking with ya, gotta get back to work and all”
P3: “yeah, sure.” (still clearly unaware of the man code violation)
These are the moments in question.
Violation of the Man code can cause unnecessary distress.
It’s just not necessary.
Please people, adhere to your respective gender code, and women; good luck in your conquests inside the women’s restroom. May victory be swift and decisive.
Jon
(warning: this would fall under the immature category)
See, perhaps that is just one example of the mystery behind female public restrooms. Perhaps there is a running total that guys aren’t even aware of. It’s just a part of the Women Code. There’s an App for that.
There is a similar man code that all guys follow. We are all aware of if, except a few socially dysfunctional guys who were apparently absent in grade school when this seminar was given. Thos rare confluences of social ineptitude breaking the man code are moments of pure agony, and so long as you are not the one, who’s man code is being violated, it can be pure awesomeness.
Just such an occurrence is the point of this post.
Now for those who are unfamiliar with the inner workings of a Men’s public restroom, we have fewer stalls for…well, we have less battle stations. We will just leave it at that. We instead usually have a wall of urinals. This is where man’s glorious ability to pee standing up plays out every day. Now here is the thing. There is a process by which a Urinal is selected. I am sure there are mass studies on Population behavior in some university of higher learning that can put this decision making process into an equation were “x” equals the number of urinals, and “n” equals the number of urinals being attended to, and the square root of “y” over “a” is the mathematical probabilities of the number of arrangements possible between “x” and “n”. However, like physics defining an equation for what a pencil falls when you let go of it, dudes, do this math in like .25 nanoseconds of observation of “x” and “n”. After many years of practice, we all become experts. There are a few rules to this.
Let’s use my work set up as a point of demonstration. We have a wall of 4 urinals. I’d say 80 % of the time, you go in and enjoy the privilege of a good “stand and pee” (sorry ladies) in the peace and tranquility of the sound of liquid hitting porcelain. Perhaps another 15% of the time, you show up while one person is already there. See now it is a bit like chess. Depending on how player one made is initial selection, you have certain decision. If the first player selected the farthest urinal leaving the three adjacent urinals free, you would likely select the furthest one from the first player. I two urinal spread is ideal. If however, the furthest urinal is made for potty training and is about ankle high, you are allowed to move one over and use the man height one, so long as you are looking straight down and focus on the task at hand. 1 urinal gap is acceptable. What is not acceptable is when player 2 decided he wants to use the urinal right next to player 1 when there are 2 other perfectly functional urinals that allow for the 1 or 2 gap urinal. This is a violation of the man code. Another example might be if the first player chooses the 3rd urinal. By rule number 1, this eliminates the 4th and the 2nd urinal. Your option becomes easy. Urinal 1. It can be a little awkward if urinal one happens to be one of those potty training ones since you voluntarily chose to pee into the training urinal when 2 perfectly good man urinals were available. This is a sacrifice that is necessary in order to avoid violating rule 1 of urinal spacing, and keeping the man code intact.
I figure you are getting the picture at this point.
To drive my point home here, you can imagine that when bathroom designers don’t consider the man code, things like this are bound to happen:
So all of that brings me to this; on some random insignificant day I made this journey to the men’s room, ready to make those split second decisions on which urinal I was going to deposit my ice tea from lunch into. As it turned out, I was player 1. I chose urinal 4 so in the event that someone else came by, they had an easy decision. Sure enough, player 2 came along, and chose urinal 2. Again, no issues, man code intact, continue as normal. Sure enough, Player 3 came along. Now Player 3 had a difficult decision to make in my book. As he entered however, I could tell something was a bit wrong. He entered the bathroom in a celebratory congratulations mood as if World War 2 and just ended. In a loud bellowing tone he greeted someone else at eh hand washing sinks, and after brief “how do you do’s” proceeded to the urinal bank. Now timing had a bit to do with this. As he came to the urinals to make his selection, myself and player 2 were still occupying urinals 4 and 2 respectively. He decided to choose urinal 1 about the time that I was finished and departing for the sinks. This unfortunate timing left player 2 having the slight sense of having his man code been violated. What happened next was unexpected. Player 3 slapped player 2 on the back like they were old buddies from college and struck up a conversation. As I passed I smirked at the awkward awesomeness about to take place, because if there was a question as to whether or not the man code was violated by urinals election, there was no question that touching and talking were WAY past the man code limit. As I washed my hands, the following conversation took place:
P3: “Hey! I haven’t seen you in forever man! It’s been way too long, what have you been up to?”
P2: “eh, just work.” (clearly, he was hoping this conversation would stop as soon as possible and was trying to finish up, but you know, you can’t stop mid-stream, it burns!)
P3: “That’s cool. Say, don’t you have a few kids? Didn’t you just recently have a daughter?”
P2: “yeah” (again, I can only sense the immense panic as the conversation continues and he scrambles to try and get out of this situation)
P3: “How is your daughter?”
P2: (at this point player 2 is so flustered that he probably isn’t thinking straight, and can’t understand what horrible thing he did to deserve this unending embarrassment…so I forgive him for his response…) “Well, she’s not retarded.”
P3: (clearly aghast at this answer) “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Meanwhile, I am almost rolling on the floor and gasping for air as this all unfolds. I couldn’t make this sort of thing up.
P2: “uh…she’s, you know, healthy” (he has finally gotten to a point of seeing the light at the end of this horrible tunnel and is way more interested at getting out of here)
P3: “yeah, but man, you can’t say that though!”
At this point I left because Player 2 had escaped “peegate”. As I left, I heard Player 2, say…
P2: “well, you know, I’m glad she is healthy, good talking with ya, gotta get back to work and all”
P3: “yeah, sure.” (still clearly unaware of the man code violation)
These are the moments in question.
Violation of the Man code can cause unnecessary distress.
It’s just not necessary.
Please people, adhere to your respective gender code, and women; good luck in your conquests inside the women’s restroom. May victory be swift and decisive.
Jon
Friday, May 6, 2011
Every Time You Run...
You’ve probably seen a picture or read the Poem “Footprints In the Sand”. It is one a poem of perspective and comfort for those in difficult times. A Poem that points out even in times we may feel alone and abandoned, we are not.
You may know that Courtney and I volunteer at our church to work with the High School Youth group. I have come to realize that perspective is sometimes a difficult thing for students to understand. They are at a point of feeling like they should be treated as an adult without the majority of the real life adult experiences. They feel like they have their whole life in front of them, there is rarely a sense of urgency. I have watched on numerous occasions from the back of the room as Chad, the youth pastor speaks passionately to these kids about HIS life experiences, and why there is no time like the present. He tells them stories that shock my world, stories of missed opportunities to say “I love you” because of an unexpected death, stories of suicides because someone thought life was hopeless and the destruction of emotions that the suicide leaves in its wake, stories of bullying because it makes someone feel good to demean someone else. None of these things were something people saw coming. I can’t say that I can relate or “understand” what some of these students go through, I wish I could. What I do know, is that reaching out to people and living your life with a sense of urgency can be contagious.
I am struck by 2 stories when I thought about this. The first is on the night we went out to celebrate our friend Megan’s birthday. Life was fun. For a few hours we laughed, told stories, enjoyed being together, and forgot about life’s difficulties and struggles. As we all drove home late that night, we came across a car accident. It was a single car that lost control and had ended up on its side an ejected the driver. It must have just happened only minutes before we came across the accident scene. We could see emergency vehicles arriving, and as we passed, we saw something that I might never forget. We saw the car on its side, and we saw the legs of a woman lying on the ground as a small group of people surrounded her. We could see blood on her legs, and one gentleman desperately trying to keep her alive actively doing CPR. I remember Courtney being absolutely traumatized, and I really didn’t know what to say to comfort her. The next day we found a news clipping about the accident saying alcohol was not involved and it was unclear why the driver had lost control. The woman was only 23 years old. I wonder if she was living life with a sense of urgency or if she was living as if she had another 80 years to “figure life out”?
The other story is the opposite side of that continuum. You know we just got married. Just the other day Courtney was going through the wedding photos to start the process of identifying which ones we want for our formal wedding album. As is the habit with her, this exercise quickly devolved into just going down memory lane with squeals and giggles. I rolled my eyes while sitting on the other couch. I was way more interested in writing an immature Blog post about “carpooling”. What Courtney did next is why I love her, and is something I am not as good at as she is. She decided to share the joy that she gets with from those photos with our photographer. She didn’t need to, after all, she was paid to do just this wasn’t she? Courtney just wrote a simple note expressing how thankful she was. I am pretty sure our photographer was a bit taken back by it. I know she gets “thank yous” all the time as almost a course of business. This was different. This wasn’t in reply to an email, or as we picked up our pictures. It was just genuine expression of gratitude and a compliment for the work she had put in to make Courtney’s life just that much better. Our photographer decided to repost what Courtney wrote as her facebook status saying essentially, this made my day, don’t forget the power of a compliment.
It can be difficult to live with a sense of urgency. It can be more difficult to reach out to someone. A compliment might be all you do. I am constantly saying to Courtney that we need to be looking for ways to “plant seeds”. I am not talking about growing a garden. I am talking about planting seeds of Hope. For some it is just that simple, a small seemingly insignificant compliment that makes them think about their life and putting it into perspective. For others it is deeper. For Courtney and I, it is planting seeds in the youth we work with about the genuine love of Jesus. We don’t beat them over the head with it, we just want them to think about it. Plant the seed. Let the seed grow. Whether you believe in Jesus or not, planting seeds of Hope is something we can all appreciate. Living with a sense of urgency is difficult, but in my view necessary. If you feel that Hope is lost. I assure you it is not! If you know someone who is going down that path, reach out, let them know they are appreciated. Let them know they are loved. You have no idea what seed you might plant that might one day grown to plant seeds of Hope in others you don’t even know. Hope, can be contagious.
The modern version of “Footprints in the Sand” might be the lyrics from one of my favorite songs right now:
Every time you run, every time you hide
Every time it hurts, every time you cry
Every time you run away, every time you hide your face
And it feels so far away, I’m right here, with you
Jon
You may know that Courtney and I volunteer at our church to work with the High School Youth group. I have come to realize that perspective is sometimes a difficult thing for students to understand. They are at a point of feeling like they should be treated as an adult without the majority of the real life adult experiences. They feel like they have their whole life in front of them, there is rarely a sense of urgency. I have watched on numerous occasions from the back of the room as Chad, the youth pastor speaks passionately to these kids about HIS life experiences, and why there is no time like the present. He tells them stories that shock my world, stories of missed opportunities to say “I love you” because of an unexpected death, stories of suicides because someone thought life was hopeless and the destruction of emotions that the suicide leaves in its wake, stories of bullying because it makes someone feel good to demean someone else. None of these things were something people saw coming. I can’t say that I can relate or “understand” what some of these students go through, I wish I could. What I do know, is that reaching out to people and living your life with a sense of urgency can be contagious.
I am struck by 2 stories when I thought about this. The first is on the night we went out to celebrate our friend Megan’s birthday. Life was fun. For a few hours we laughed, told stories, enjoyed being together, and forgot about life’s difficulties and struggles. As we all drove home late that night, we came across a car accident. It was a single car that lost control and had ended up on its side an ejected the driver. It must have just happened only minutes before we came across the accident scene. We could see emergency vehicles arriving, and as we passed, we saw something that I might never forget. We saw the car on its side, and we saw the legs of a woman lying on the ground as a small group of people surrounded her. We could see blood on her legs, and one gentleman desperately trying to keep her alive actively doing CPR. I remember Courtney being absolutely traumatized, and I really didn’t know what to say to comfort her. The next day we found a news clipping about the accident saying alcohol was not involved and it was unclear why the driver had lost control. The woman was only 23 years old. I wonder if she was living life with a sense of urgency or if she was living as if she had another 80 years to “figure life out”?
The other story is the opposite side of that continuum. You know we just got married. Just the other day Courtney was going through the wedding photos to start the process of identifying which ones we want for our formal wedding album. As is the habit with her, this exercise quickly devolved into just going down memory lane with squeals and giggles. I rolled my eyes while sitting on the other couch. I was way more interested in writing an immature Blog post about “carpooling”. What Courtney did next is why I love her, and is something I am not as good at as she is. She decided to share the joy that she gets with from those photos with our photographer. She didn’t need to, after all, she was paid to do just this wasn’t she? Courtney just wrote a simple note expressing how thankful she was. I am pretty sure our photographer was a bit taken back by it. I know she gets “thank yous” all the time as almost a course of business. This was different. This wasn’t in reply to an email, or as we picked up our pictures. It was just genuine expression of gratitude and a compliment for the work she had put in to make Courtney’s life just that much better. Our photographer decided to repost what Courtney wrote as her facebook status saying essentially, this made my day, don’t forget the power of a compliment.
It can be difficult to live with a sense of urgency. It can be more difficult to reach out to someone. A compliment might be all you do. I am constantly saying to Courtney that we need to be looking for ways to “plant seeds”. I am not talking about growing a garden. I am talking about planting seeds of Hope. For some it is just that simple, a small seemingly insignificant compliment that makes them think about their life and putting it into perspective. For others it is deeper. For Courtney and I, it is planting seeds in the youth we work with about the genuine love of Jesus. We don’t beat them over the head with it, we just want them to think about it. Plant the seed. Let the seed grow. Whether you believe in Jesus or not, planting seeds of Hope is something we can all appreciate. Living with a sense of urgency is difficult, but in my view necessary. If you feel that Hope is lost. I assure you it is not! If you know someone who is going down that path, reach out, let them know they are appreciated. Let them know they are loved. You have no idea what seed you might plant that might one day grown to plant seeds of Hope in others you don’t even know. Hope, can be contagious.
The modern version of “Footprints in the Sand” might be the lyrics from one of my favorite songs right now:
Every time you run, every time you hide
Every time it hurts, every time you cry
Every time you run away, every time you hide your face
And it feels so far away, I’m right here, with you
Jon
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Warning: For the Immature Only (you know that means you...)
So far this Blog has essentially been a recap of how Courtney and I met, how I met the parents, The Proposal, and little tidbits about the house and the wedding. I think the “honeymoon” period for this Blog is over. We need to discuss important issues, debate the facts, and be respectful of each other’s opinions. Like mature adults would do. Yeah…that isn’t this post. This would be a linguistic adventure into the immature side of life.
The first thing you need to understand is that I have a lot of friends and family who are teachers. One of my friends, Dan, is a Middle school teacher. We share a mutual respect for laughing at the less mature side of life. This is about Dan and his amazing linguistic abilities. To illustrate, I’ll tell you this story. Because he teaches middle school there is already an element of immaturity in his students. So on occasion, Dan takes advantage of this and when he feels the need to, shall we say, flatulate, yet maintains the façade of being the mature adult in full control of his classroom. He will wander up and down the aisles of hard working students diligently expanding their minds in the science lab (apparently burning Captain Crunch is science these days, but that is for another day…). While they are hard at work, he will slowly over the distance of a few students let the fumigation begin. He refers to this as “crop dusting”. I find this ingenious. The brilliance of it is when 30 seconds later while back at his desk, one student will smell the poisonous emissions and start blaming another kid, who then gets defensive and says amazing retaliatory remarks like “whoever smelt it dealt it!” Dan will usually sit back at his desk and admire his handy work, before admonishing the immaturity and telling them to be grown up and get back to work. Like the Guinness commercial’s say…”Brilliant!”
Which is a nice run up to my next story. I work on a 9 story building and use the elevator to get up and down, most all employees do. On one occasion I was on the 4th floor heading up to the 9th. When the elevator dinged to tell me which one of the elevator cars was there to pick me up, someone was getting off while I was getting on. Little did I know, that someone left me a little surprise. As I got on, I pushed the 9th floor button and the doors closed. Before the car even moved I smelled the stink of another human beings fecal dust. Nowhere to go. Nothing I can do. And then it got really fun…the elevator car stopped on floor 7 to let someone else in to the car of weaponized biological gas that George W thought that Sadam had. He was wrong. It was here in his home state! So to my horror I could just picture this person getting on and thinking “you disgusting human being!” So what do I do? Do I acknowledge the stink? Say, sorry about the smell, someone just got off who obviously wasn’t feeling well. Who would believe that!? That is like starting off an embarrassing story with “This happened to a friend of mine…” everyone knows this is code for, I have to tell you what happened to me but I am going to hide it in a story about my mythical friend. Do I ignore the smell and pretend like nothing is wrong? Maybe they won’t notice the day old sweaty sock smell. It took them about 3 seconds to assess the situation and regret the decision to get in the elevator. Great. So as I am processing all of this, I am quietly thinking in the back of my head how the person who got off on the 4th floor is at their desk now just loving their masterpiece. Had I not been the victim, I would be applauding this little bit of genius. The ride up to the 9th floor lasted forever as I just accepted my innocent shame and let the person off first hoping never to see them again.
On the ride back down, I recalled my predicament and thought of all the amazingly awkward situations that must arise daily from this kind of thing. Multiple people at once and someone lets a SBD out (silent but deadly) and no one knows who it was or who to blame and just lets Kenny G play on in this gleeful moment of forced maturity. ...or... The moment everyone gets off leaving you alone as you have one more floor to go up so you let loose and just before the door closes someone holds it open to get on…Oops.
The situations are endless! There had to be a term to describe this deliciously dastardly masterpiece of immaturity! So who do I turn to? Dan, my crop dusting linguistic genius of a friend. So after I explained the situation to him in all of its glory and possibility, he agreed that a term was definitely in order. We tossed a few ides back in forth and then settled on two. If you end up riding solo, or with one other person, and you gas someone and leave before they get locked in the death box, you just coffined someone. Yes. Like a burial chamber. You gassed them and left them for dead. You can also get coffined. It can be a versatile term. In the situation of multiple people…the SBD situation…then what you are doing is beyond coffining, it is a moment of sharing. It is now forever in my vocabulary to refer to this as carpooling. This actually arose from the situation of someone gassing others out in a moving vehicle. We figure it can be applied to both the elevator and the car. No need to limit ourselves in such matters.
So the next time you are waiting for an elevator, be aware of others coffining you. But I would always applaud a well timed toot coffining someone. For they too may have the pleasure of experiencing an innocent horror 2 floors up that they have no way to explain to their new friends. They just have to get in the carpool and like it. Go forth and create masterpieces of awkwardness!
Jon
The first thing you need to understand is that I have a lot of friends and family who are teachers. One of my friends, Dan, is a Middle school teacher. We share a mutual respect for laughing at the less mature side of life. This is about Dan and his amazing linguistic abilities. To illustrate, I’ll tell you this story. Because he teaches middle school there is already an element of immaturity in his students. So on occasion, Dan takes advantage of this and when he feels the need to, shall we say, flatulate, yet maintains the façade of being the mature adult in full control of his classroom. He will wander up and down the aisles of hard working students diligently expanding their minds in the science lab (apparently burning Captain Crunch is science these days, but that is for another day…). While they are hard at work, he will slowly over the distance of a few students let the fumigation begin. He refers to this as “crop dusting”. I find this ingenious. The brilliance of it is when 30 seconds later while back at his desk, one student will smell the poisonous emissions and start blaming another kid, who then gets defensive and says amazing retaliatory remarks like “whoever smelt it dealt it!” Dan will usually sit back at his desk and admire his handy work, before admonishing the immaturity and telling them to be grown up and get back to work. Like the Guinness commercial’s say…”Brilliant!”
Which is a nice run up to my next story. I work on a 9 story building and use the elevator to get up and down, most all employees do. On one occasion I was on the 4th floor heading up to the 9th. When the elevator dinged to tell me which one of the elevator cars was there to pick me up, someone was getting off while I was getting on. Little did I know, that someone left me a little surprise. As I got on, I pushed the 9th floor button and the doors closed. Before the car even moved I smelled the stink of another human beings fecal dust. Nowhere to go. Nothing I can do. And then it got really fun…the elevator car stopped on floor 7 to let someone else in to the car of weaponized biological gas that George W thought that Sadam had. He was wrong. It was here in his home state! So to my horror I could just picture this person getting on and thinking “you disgusting human being!” So what do I do? Do I acknowledge the stink? Say, sorry about the smell, someone just got off who obviously wasn’t feeling well. Who would believe that!? That is like starting off an embarrassing story with “This happened to a friend of mine…” everyone knows this is code for, I have to tell you what happened to me but I am going to hide it in a story about my mythical friend. Do I ignore the smell and pretend like nothing is wrong? Maybe they won’t notice the day old sweaty sock smell. It took them about 3 seconds to assess the situation and regret the decision to get in the elevator. Great. So as I am processing all of this, I am quietly thinking in the back of my head how the person who got off on the 4th floor is at their desk now just loving their masterpiece. Had I not been the victim, I would be applauding this little bit of genius. The ride up to the 9th floor lasted forever as I just accepted my innocent shame and let the person off first hoping never to see them again.
On the ride back down, I recalled my predicament and thought of all the amazingly awkward situations that must arise daily from this kind of thing. Multiple people at once and someone lets a SBD out (silent but deadly) and no one knows who it was or who to blame and just lets Kenny G play on in this gleeful moment of forced maturity. ...or... The moment everyone gets off leaving you alone as you have one more floor to go up so you let loose and just before the door closes someone holds it open to get on…Oops.
The situations are endless! There had to be a term to describe this deliciously dastardly masterpiece of immaturity! So who do I turn to? Dan, my crop dusting linguistic genius of a friend. So after I explained the situation to him in all of its glory and possibility, he agreed that a term was definitely in order. We tossed a few ides back in forth and then settled on two. If you end up riding solo, or with one other person, and you gas someone and leave before they get locked in the death box, you just coffined someone. Yes. Like a burial chamber. You gassed them and left them for dead. You can also get coffined. It can be a versatile term. In the situation of multiple people…the SBD situation…then what you are doing is beyond coffining, it is a moment of sharing. It is now forever in my vocabulary to refer to this as carpooling. This actually arose from the situation of someone gassing others out in a moving vehicle. We figure it can be applied to both the elevator and the car. No need to limit ourselves in such matters.
So the next time you are waiting for an elevator, be aware of others coffining you. But I would always applaud a well timed toot coffining someone. For they too may have the pleasure of experiencing an innocent horror 2 floors up that they have no way to explain to their new friends. They just have to get in the carpool and like it. Go forth and create masterpieces of awkwardness!
Jon
How is it that our finer moments are always caught on camera?
So how is it that our finer moments are always caught on camera? There are so many times in life that I would love to have a camera at my finger tips and there are some that I wish weren't so easy to catch on film. So it appears that there is about a 5 second time in the wedding ceremony that everybody caught on film. Almost every person who has pictures has posted a version of this picture so I figure I will share the inside scoop.
So a the time of your wedding comes near, all of your family and friends decide they are going to share their stories and advice with you to help you out. One of the things that I remember hearing a number of times has to do with which hand to put out and people putting out the wrong hand for the ring. So as I stood at the alter, very nervous, I kept thinking I had to get the correct hand out there. So it came time for me to put my left hand out and I did, success, it wasn't hard because that is the hand I write with. Then it was Jon's turn and I kept thinking come on you can do this....So he puts his hand out and I look at him terrified, no he put the wrong hand! And I am standing there starring at him thinking, "Don't you remember all of the stories?" And I think he realized that I was rather distraught so he kindly mentions to me that it is his left hand. As I processed the thought I got embarrassed and what else are you to do but laugh at yourself. I am pretty sure that 5 second laugh was caught by every camera in the house.
And Chad's face says it all..."Oh Courtney! Poor Jon!" And for those of you thinking, yes to do teach and I do know my left from my right on every day other than my wedding.
Courtney
So a the time of your wedding comes near, all of your family and friends decide they are going to share their stories and advice with you to help you out. One of the things that I remember hearing a number of times has to do with which hand to put out and people putting out the wrong hand for the ring. So as I stood at the alter, very nervous, I kept thinking I had to get the correct hand out there. So it came time for me to put my left hand out and I did, success, it wasn't hard because that is the hand I write with. Then it was Jon's turn and I kept thinking come on you can do this....So he puts his hand out and I look at him terrified, no he put the wrong hand! And I am standing there starring at him thinking, "Don't you remember all of the stories?" And I think he realized that I was rather distraught so he kindly mentions to me that it is his left hand. As I processed the thought I got embarrassed and what else are you to do but laugh at yourself. I am pretty sure that 5 second laugh was caught by every camera in the house.
And Chad's face says it all..."Oh Courtney! Poor Jon!" And for those of you thinking, yes to do teach and I do know my left from my right on every day other than my wedding.
Courtney
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)