Facebook Pranks

I think we've all had that time that our friends accessed our facebook account. It's a terrible, sinking feeling to know that your gender was wrong for the past month.


Before I started dating Kara, she mistakenly left her facebook up. We were going to be driving all the next day, so I figured this would be a perfect opportunity. But what to do?


Then it hit - change her birthday to the following day.


As we're driving, she keeps getting all of these "happy birthday" texts and phone calls. She was clueless. Confused, because these were her "true" friends calling to genuinely wish her happy birthday. There is no way that everyone could be in on this.


A smile itched its way across my face until she read out loud one of her texts and I burst out laughing. Luckily she thought it was funny. I made sure to wish her happy birthday before she could change it back.


If you're looking for good ways to change someone's profile, here are a few suggestions:

• Change their gender. Whenever they post something, it will show the world that they posted something on "his" or "her" wall.
• Subtly change their activities. Throw in "medieval club" or "polka dancing" to their list. They'll never notice.
• A status update that will get people's attention but is still realistic for them. Perhaps "was late to work because I ran over a cat." 

One of my recent pieces of work, you can hardly notice the "Watching Twilight," "Medieval Club," or "Dancing in the Rain." An added touch is the matching capitalization of his profile.

My Dishwasher Theory

Don't you hate clearing the dishwasher? I sure do, and so I've come up with a great idea:


Have two dishwashers. 
One is always clean and the other dirty. 


Thus eliminating having to ever clear one. To illustrate my point, let's do dinner.


Setting the table I take the dishes out from the "clean" dishwasher. We eat dinner, and it's a mess. 
I then take all of the dirty dishes and put them into the "dirty" dishwasher. Once it's full I run it, and then the dishwashers change roles from "clean" to "dirty." 


Great idea? I think so. 


Currently my dishwasher sounds like those drums from Jumanji. Really every time it's running I think a band of wild monkeys is going to come crashing through my window. This may impede my enthusiasm for two dishwashers in my home. 

Maybe it would be an excuse to grow a sweet beard too...

My Most Awkward Moment

So I used to work at a childcare within a sports club. This pretty much means that it was poor Jason working with about twenty women. My daily break was to take the kids swimming.

Whenever we'd go I instantly became the Pool Monster - with all of the kids attacking me and holding onto my arms, head, or anything else they could get their hands on. Most of them were pretty little, but throughout the summer the kids started becoming stronger swimmers. The parents loved it, and oftentimes would watch. 

One day as I was wrestling the kids, a couple of them decided it would be a good idea to dive underwater and grab my swimsuit. At the time there were about 50 kids swarming me, and I would have hardly noticed had they not pulled my swimsuit - down.

Immediately I can feel the free flow of water around my nether regions, and try frantically to free up my arms so I can pull my swimsuit up. I can almost feel the parent's eyes as I flail around to correct the placement of my suit. I could just imagine some newswriter being there in the room, just waiting to cover a story on a pantless man in a childcare. Luckily I got it fixed quickly, and that was the end of my Pool Monster career.

Yesterday I played "chicken" in the pool, and that seems much more promising to my pool future. 

Official Statement

Just as sure as I love fanny packs and puppies, I guarantee that all of my stories are true. Yes, even the one about me being scared of the Easter Bunny. Because I appreciate my loyal fans so much, please enjoy my favorite youtube video:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0DmtmmFEVo



If you're not rolling on the ground laughing, this maybe this will put you over the edge:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIwTYL1fwJk

Oh Sister Missionaries!

I love BYU’s candy counter. I’ve consequently gotten to know about everyone who works there, and never pass up the opportunity for a free sample.

Today I was talking with them about how the women Broadcast Journalism majors have to cut their hair to be on TV. The conversation shifted to when you submit your mission papers you have to include a picture. It’s a fact that the good-looking Sister missionaries can get into more doors, and consequently have a lot of success.

Then I say: “It’s funny how good looks and sex-appeal play a vital role in even missionary work.”

The girls at the candy counter nod their heads in agreement. Then freeze.

I get that pit feeling in my stomach, just like a little kid when he’s caught under the kitchen table shoveling down candy. With a quiver, my eyes follow the frozen candy counter girl’s eyes – to right beside me.

There stands an elderly sister missionary, just staring at me. I read her nametag twice, hardly believing that I just said sex appeal and missionary work in the same sentence in her presence. Then she laughs, and says that she agrees with a smile.

All of us are dumbstruck. I stare back at the candy counter, make some excuse that I have to leave, and ran-walked out of there. 

The worst part of this experience hit me as I left – I didn’t even get my free sample today! 

Two of the most successful missionaries in my mission. Good looks correlation? 

Snuggie Night

I know. Just reading the title you know that this story has a special place in my heart.

One of my buddies had told me about the snuggie night at the Utah Flash game last weekend. Apparently all those wearing snuggies would be let in free. Immediately I imagined the Celestial Kingdom – everyone robed in a warm snuggie, cheering for a basketball team with free movement of their arms.

I was in.

After some convincing I talked my girlfriend into going with me. Choosing from my selection of four snuggies was difficult, but she refused to let me wear my pink snuggie in public. We go in matching blue. Cute, huh?

So we pull into the parking lot, and it’s full but at the same time seems desolate. None of the static electricity of snuggies in the air. I’m anxiously pressing toward the entrance like a dog after a bone.

We walk into the stadium. There were lights. People. But no basketball. Snuggie Night was a different day!

Two people in a giant arena in their snuggies. Luckily there was an event happening – a home show, so at least we could pretend that we were doing something in our apparel. The rest of the night was fun, and we got all sorts of neat stuff at the home show.

Perhaps the secret to any good night is to start with snuggies and see what happens. 

3-Piece Suit + 2 Sharp Safety Pins

I was invited to a Jane Austen dance, and considering that I don’t have a bunch of extra classy suits with cravats lying around, I decided to borrow a friend’s 3-piece suit. 

He’s about my size, and being a man of course I didn’t try it on. It’s about 15 minutes before I’m about to pick up my date, and I go to put on the suit and it’s HUGE! I could have fit about 50 MC Hammer-sized pocketwatches in there!

Suspenders are such a practical invention. It’s really too bad I didn’t have any. I arrive at my date’s apartment, looking like a baller – but not because of the 3-piece suit, but because I’m holding my pants up and having to shuffle walk.

Luckily she has two safety pins. Little ones. Difficult to handle. Especially on the pants you’re wearing. There is no smooth way to do this. I get them in, and we go to the dance.

I go to sit in the car, and we’re talking as we drive. Then in my nether regions, I hear a clear “POP” as one of the safety pins comes out. The freedom of the first safety pin must have encouraged that of the second, because it followed suit and popped out.

There is something terrifying that comes upon a man when he knows that he has two sharply-tipped safety pins open in his pants.

I play it cool, and when we arrive I pull the little daggers out of my trousers and go baggin’ into the dance. I eventually get it figured out, and went the entire dance without making any sudden movements.

I think I understand a little better why old men hike up their pants and sit down slowly when approaching a chair. 

Actual picture from the night, behind my smile is a deep fear of being stabbed by the safety pins holding my pants up

Cats

Ever have to veer your car to avoid hitting a cat? Last time I did I almost crashed, so I went back and took the cat home with me. I kept it mounted over my desk all year.

Story time:
I was driving home and it was about 2:00am, and in my headlights I caught the glimpse of a cat. You know cat’s eyes when you see them, all glittery and big.

I’m cruising and hope this cat will get out of the way, and it’s not moving. Closer, closer, and then when the stupid cat doesn’t move I had to veer the car. Right as I’m dodging this cat, I realize it’s not a cat at all!

It’s nothing more than a cardboard cutout of a cat, spring-loaded, with dimes as eyes to reflect light. Ingenious. Timeless humor. I must have it.

Pulling the car around, one of my friends gets out and starts jogging down the sidewalk. He starts running up to the cat to take it, when suddenly the bushes become alive with human forms.

From my vantage point in the car it looked like hundreds of angry aboriginal people coming out of their hiding places to kill the thief of their shrine. Also from my vantage point I could see my friend – running and screaming towards my car.

No time to even open the door…he jumps through the window and we take off through the empty Provo streets. The tribe pursued. Luckily I’ve seen Fast and the Furious and The Transporter enough times to know what to do.

After being chased around the city and ultimately escaping, I hung the cat up proudly in my room. Telling my Mom this story, somewhat reluctantly, she said that she and her friends used to do that with manikins. Timeless humor must run deep in the family.

Racquetballs and Eyeballs

Racquetball seems like a harmless sport.

Last Friday, I went to play with a couple of my friends – Kory and Regan. When Kory and I went into the men’s locker room to get our gear, they handed us a racquet and a ball.

“What, no goggles?” Kory inquired. The two locker room attendants just laughed and said no, almost as if it was some big inside joke that BYU was playing on us. I made some comment about how misused our tithing money is, and we strutted over to the court, our racquets propped up coolly over our shoulders.

Kory and I began warming up, waiting for Regan. We found out quickly two important facts:
1. Neither one of us could remember the actual rules
2. We were both terrible. Embarrassingly bad. I’m sure a pair of elementary school girls with only one leg each would give us a run for our money.

Then Regan arrives. We start playing, and whoever wasn’t hitting the ball in that round would stand against the wall. After about three minutes of playing, Kory runs to get a ball off of the bounce and hits it full-force - right into Regan’s eye.

Turns out that when a racquetball connects perfectly onto one’s eye, it can actually suction on and rip the eyeball out of its socket.

Luckily this didn’t happen to Regan. Although it did leave her with a very swollen face. She had a great attitude though, and I would say we had more fun sitting on the racquetball court laughing about it than we would have if we had actually played racquetball.

I think we’re planning on going shooting next week.


Regan and her swollen eye, she was such a good sport!

Awkward Lifts

Whoever puts in the exercise equipment in gyms must have a sense of humor.

Whenever I’m at the gym and get onto a machine, I seem to be face-to-face with another person. This wouldn’t be so bad, in fact it TYPICALLY gives you greater incentive to keep good form, complete all your reps, etc.

Except for one particular set up.

One of the machines you get on and pull back weight, like a backwards chest press. Directly facing you is a leg spreader machine, where girls typically work out on to increase their thigh strength. Essentially they are opening and closing their legs, meanwhile I’m in front of them thrusting.

Welcome to the most awkward moment of my life – every day.