Funny

Man in Uniform

My favorite D.A.R.E. Officer

There is something about a man in a uniform. The uniform seems to have magical powers that make any girl go weak in the knees. That is unless the uniform is a bit too tight.

This is Officer Kowalski. He was on the Carlsbad City Police Force back in 1991. For all I know, he could still be there. I am sure that if anyone there gets a hold of this entry, life could get a little interesting for him.

When I was a Senior in High School I had a MASSIVE crush on this favorite local Mr. Friendly. The picture above is from the morning of my graduation. I am sure I was thinking how bummed I would be because I wouldn’t see him any more. The summer after graduation, I used to drive crazy on purpose hoping that I would be pulled over by Officer K, so that he would finally have an opportunity to profess his undying love for me.

Well, there is a funny story about Officer Kowalski and it goes something like this. One day, I was in Health Class and my teacher asked me to help Officer Kowalski carry some things in from his patrol car. He had boxes of drug paraphernalia that he needed for the presentation that he was to give our class.

He walked ahead of me on the way out to the car and I watched his backside the whole way. He was so fine! He popped the trunk and bent over to get one of the two boxes out. I stood back and watched only to have one very delightful surprise…..his back seam split right open. The noise was something like this: RIIIIIIPPPPPP. Now, a lady would have kept her hysteria to herself…I guess I am not a lady. I laughed hard out LOUD.

Now, remember the poor guy was responsible to give my class a presentation for the next 30 minutes. He turned and handed me the box, and said,”What is so funny?” I was startled that he was trying to play it off. I said,”Nothin.”

We walked back into the classroom and he strategically kept his backside to the outside walls. I was forced to try and keep a straight face during his whole presentation. I wasn’t always successful. I am sure everyone else was thinking what in the world is so funny about marijauna and drug needles. For all I know, they thought that I was a drugee.

Officer Kowalski, on the other hand, knew exactly what was so funny.

Cialis

For erectile disfunction….Cialis!?!?!?

A while back LG and I were watching TV. We had tuned out during the commercials. All of the sudden we hear, “For erectile dysfunction, See Alice.”

Come to find out it was really “Cialis“, the new viagra. We weren’t sure who should be more offended, ME or LG!

Goodbye

Good news….you have the advantage over the telemarketer

One of the joys of having a husband in law school is screening all of his calls from loan consolidation firms. Because he is rarely home, they are unlikely to ever get a hold of LG here, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.

After a semester of an average of three calls a day, I got fed up. These people just were not getting the clue. They would ask me,”When is the better time to get a hold of him?” I would tell them, “Never, he is NEVER home.” I always suggested that they give me their number and that I would have him call them back. They would always end up hanging up on me and calling ME back again a little later. UGh! They had the resiliance of a dandelion.

So, I came up with an ingenious plan. Whenever a telemarketer would call and ask for LeGrand Gold, I would say, “This is him.” Now, I do have a low voice, but it isn’t THAT low. They would always say, “Excuse me.” I would say with the upmost confidence, “This is LeGrand.” Then, the telemarketer would stumble into their spiel. I would then gladly cut them off, tell them that I wasn’t interested, and kindly instruct them to take us off their calling list.

One time this guy called and he had the nerve to say, “You have to be kidding; You are not a man.” Oh, this made me REALLY mad! How dare he say that I have a woman’s voice!? I gave him a piece of my mind for his insult and then gladly instructed him to take us off his calling list.

THIS IS PRECISELY THE ADVANTAGE THAT YOU HAVE OVER THE TELEMARKETER. They don’t know you, therefore, they cannot tell YOU what your voice should sound like! Face it, we all know a man with a mousy voice of a whimpy woman and visa versa. Just the other day, I was caught off guard when I called a new friend. I said, B*** (Her husband’s name)?” , only to find out that it was her mother-in-law (quite the smoker).

Well, I must have been successful in my strategy. We are now the proud receivers of less than one student loan call per month. They may have won the battle, but we won the war.

If you have trouble with telemarketers and you can’t come up with as elaborate of a plan as above to get rid of them, may I kindly suggest what my witty father-in-law does to get rid of them?

He cuts them off and says, “Let me ask you just one thing?” The say, “What is that?” He then inquires,”Is this a good buy?” They say,”Of course it is a good buy?” He then says, “O.k. goodbye.”

John Denver

John Denver is the man!

When I found out that LG shared my love of John Denver, I KNEW he was the man for me. I thought that I had an unusual upbringing because my parents were always exposing us to JD’s music. Come to find out, my upbringing was pretty normal. LG was growing up 2,000 miles away and he had just as much exposure to the King of country-folk music.

While I lived in Alaska, mom and dad would put us to sleep with John Denver. They would play him as loud as he would go on their little portable battery operated tape player.

I still love John Denver. LG and I carry on tradition and listen to him while we take road trips with our girls. We teach them to sing the lyrics to his songs, which are quite uplifting. Here is one of my favorites:

Perhaps love – 1980

Perhaps love is like a resting place,
A shelter from the storm,
It exists to give you comfort,
It is there to keep you warm,
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone,
The memory of love will bring you home…

Well, I was grief-stricken, like many others, when Denver died in a plane crash, October 12, 1997. I was mostly bummed because I never got to see him in concert.

At the time, I was taking a course in college, Public Speaking. Each student was to give a speech on a self-chosen topic. I did a bang-up job with mine on the life of John Denver. Did you know that his birth name was Henry John Deutschendorf Jr.?

Well, during my speech, I touched on Denver’s act of adopting two children with his first wife, Annie. In explanation of the adoptions, instead of saying, “They thought that John was sterile.” I said, “They thought that John was impotent.”

Hello, they THOUGHT that John Denver was IMPOTENT…isn’t that something that someone either knows or they don’t?

I still got an A on the speech. No one even snickered when I said it. I didn’t even realize what I had said until I was doing my mental speech replay later on during the day. I was mortified at what I had done. Luckily, most of the students in the class were really naive 18 year old Mormon girls. But, surely my hot young male professor from Michigan realized what I had done. I couldn’t believe it when I got my grade. Either the teacher was really impressed that I was the only student who accompanied my speech with a Power Point presentation, or he was so entertained that he decided to let my mistake slide.

Motorcycles

Me and Fast Eddie – Dec 31, 1994

I love motorcycles. I used to have this boyfriend and we would fantasize about how someday we would both buy a Harley Davidson and cruise around the Country. I don’t think that this scenario will ever play out in my deck of cards, but every time I see Roadsters I wonder what it would be like to be “free”.

A few years back (try 10 – WOW time flies) a bunch of friends and I went to The Rose Parade. If you have never experienced sleeping on the street with thousands of people in Pasadena, CA, you haven’t lived. We had a blast! The streets were one HUGE party.

All kinds of vehicles would cruise up and down the street, and all kinds of people would run back and forth to greet them. Different objects (ie., candy, confetti, marshmellows, items of clothing, drinks) would be thrown between the cruisers and the spectators. I say cars, but I mean, cars, bikes, busses, scooters, motorcycles…anything that you can imagine with wheels.

Well, of course I was so envious of those motorcycles. Every time they drove by, which was countless, I knew that their goal was just to taunt me. At one point, a big group of cyclers parked close by to take a short break. I ran over and asked this group of upper middle age men if one would let me tag along on their next cruise. They were more than compliant. The problem was which one was going to be the lucky one to take me. I was a cute 21 yr old lively girl. Who wouldn’t want me on the back of their motorcycle?

My friends thought that I was crazy for jumping on a bike with a complete stranger. I have to admit that at one point during the ride with Fast Eddie I had a panic stricken feeling that he could take me to some back alley and I would be completely helpless. Jumping on a motorcycle with a complete stranger was completely irresponsible, especially since we were some of the only people not drinking at the party, but I wanted to prove that Mormons could have fun too, and prove it I did.

Well, Fast Eddie, (shown above) was the winner among his friends. He was so COOL! We rode up and down the strip for as long as I wanted. All the people that I had come to the parade with and all of my new friends that I had made throughout the night would shout my name as we cruised by. What a blast. I was on HOG heaven.

Rewind to ten years previous to 1994. I was about 11. My dad had inherited some old dirtbikes from a Great Uncle who had passed. One Saturday, he was in the front yard tinkering with them. Throughout the day, my dad and my brothers would each take a turn going through the front yard and up and down the street.

I approached my dad and asked him if I could have a turn. He said, “Sure” and gave me all of the pointers about the clutch and the brakes, how to stop, accelerate, and steer. I was ready. My dad seemed a little reserved, and kept asking me if I knew how everything worked. I was overly confident (imagine that). I waved my dad off and told him I would be fine.

I accelerated as hard as I could and I choked trying to remember where the brakes were located. I took off so fast that I felt like steering was an impossibility or if I tried to take the sharp turn toward the street I would surely dismount. I hung on for dear life going a good thirty miles an hour or so. I crashed head-on into our front door. The whole door frame came tumbling down, leaving me sitting on the bike bewildered. The bike had finally stopped; I was staring at my mom just two feet in front of me. She was standing in our hallway with a horrified look on her face screaming at the top of her lungs.

I know, after hearing this story, you would wonder why I still have a thing for motorcycles. I guess I am a gluten for punishment. I also give Kudos to my mom and dad. They handled the situation perfectly. They laughed at me for hours on end. All the neighbors came over to get a good laugh too. Back then, all I could think about was how bad I hurt between my legs, but looking back now, I am glad that I could promote good laughter….it is quite funny!

My Dad

“Here I come to save the day!”

This story will be a shining example of how my siblings and I viewed my dad when we were kids. He was and still is Superman.

My dad worked construction until I was about nine at which point he changed his career path to building maintenance. One of our favorite things to do when we were young was to go with dad on Saturdays while he “checked out” different construction sites.

Our house used to be the most east in Carlsbad. Behind us were miles and miles of dirt hills. Those hills are now ALL developed and you can drive the actual paved roads into Vista instead of taking the long way around on the H-78, like we did.

One Saturday, my dad decided to take my sister, Shannon, (18 months older than me) and I out four-wheeling in those hills. He wanted to go beyond the construction sites that we had been exploring. This adventure was much more fun than it should have been considering we were in the family station wagon. Well, Carlsbad had gotten some rare moisture previously and the hills were somewhat muddy.

Lo and behold, we got stuck! My dad decided to play out Superman. He told my sister and I to “stay put”, and he “would be back to get us out of the mud”. Great plan in theory, but Shannon and I were terrified. We were in the hills with nothing in sight. We knew that these hills were full of mice, rattlesnakes, and the coyotes that always ate our cats.

At one point, I voiced my fear to my “wiser” sister. She reminded me that we had just learned a song in Primary about faith and believing that God would answer prayers. (I recently taught this same song, Faith, to the children at church. When I relayed this story from my childhood to them, I realized just how absolutely absurd it sounded.)

Well, my sister and I decided to sing this song. We thought that if we could sing it loud enough, God would hear that we had faith and somehow He would save us from the Coyotes. It seemed like a lifetime. We decided that we should pray too. We did. We prayed. We sang. We prayed. We sang.

All of the sudden we spot something moving over the horizon. It was over this same muddy hill that my dad had disappeared over minutes if not hours before. As this thing edged its way over the hill, we saw that it was a TRACTOR. It was coming straight towards us in all it’s glory. (It was just like the one in the picture above.) As we looked closer, we saw that my dad was driving. He had found it at some construction site, hot wired it, and drove it back through the mud to SAVE THE DAY. (Hopefully enough time has passed that no one can press charges)

My dad easily pushed the wagon out of the mud, using the front scooper, while Shannon and I watched in pure amazement. Not only was our dad really Superman, but just like our primary teachers had told us, “God had heard our prayers.” He had answered our pleas with one REALLY COOL ending.

Oops!

some random person taking a plunge at Lighthouse Park: Jupiter, FL
Picture provided by: jupiter-rope-swings

I just had to find a picture of a good rope swing before I tell you this story. Here is the best free picture I could find in ten minutes. (Hey, it’s time to make dinner)Some company wants a startling $129 for a picture just like the one above (Ridiculous)

Well, when LG and I had been married about a year, I was privileged to be a leader at another girls camp for the church. This camp experience was really fun. Probably because I didn’t have a whole lot of responsibilites except to teach some clases and help other leaders out as needed.

The camp lasted a week up in the mountains in Utah. It was a beautiful place. By Wednesday night I really missed my new husband. So, you can imagine my surprise when on Thursday morning my knight in shining armor drove up a day earlier than expected. I was so happy to see him! LG had brought his mom and dad and sister with him. They had come to just say Howdy, but I ended up leaving with them because my responsibilities were really through, and I REALLY missed my husband. Plus, I thought it was more important to spend time with his family who had come all the way from Tennessee.

Well, before we were to leave, I had to give LG and his family a small tour of the campsight. I showed them the pavilion, the biffies, the girls’ tee-pees, and all the other points of interest. We ended the tour or maybe I should say I put an automatic stop to the tour at the small lake. I showed them the canoes and told them about the lakeside meeting we had on the first night where there were candles all afloat and a fire burning in the middle of the lake. We all stood on a small dock as I played tour guide.

At the end of the conversation, I told them about the recreation time we had, just that morning. I said, “The girls really liked this rope swing.” There was just one small rope swing that hung off a pole on the teeny dock. As I said this, I grabbed the rope swing and swung out over the water. The only problem was, I didn’t land back on the dock as I had intended.

I plunged down to the bottom of the lake fully clothed, leaving my four family members there in astonishment. Now, you know I am Crazy Ali and so, they were really trying to figure out if I was playing some kind of joke or if I had my swimsuit on underneath or if I dove in on purpose for their reaction.

To my dismay and utter embarassment, it was none of the reason above. My hands had just slipped, leaving me under the water trying to figure out how I could swim away. I was thinking, “If I stay under here long enough maybe they will go away”. Well, they didn’t. I surfaced with a squeal, at which point, they knew I hadn’t intended to take the swim. Their howls of laughter almost made my embarassment worth it.

But, for now, I am not going near any rope swings when fully clothed.

J.D.

The ONLY tractor

Images Copyrighted by Historylink101.com & found at Story of Farming Page

When you apply for Law School, you have to submit what they call a “personal statement” Well, a friend of ours on a Law School acceptance committee advised LG to do something different that would make him stand out as an applicant. Much like what you see Elle Woods do on Legally Blonde. Now, LG was not about to jump in a hottub in his bathing suit, much less, talk into a camera, tape it, and send it to actual living breathing people. But, we did come up with something to start his statement out with a bang. It is based on a true story.

While growing up in the lush foothills of Northeast Tennessee, I had a small lawn mowing business. The pinnacle of my mowing career was purchasing the Cadillac of lawn mowers, a John Deere. Even today I reminisce about the power of my John Deere and how at ease I would feel at the wheel of it. Shortly after the birth of our second child and several months before graduating with my Bachelor’s, I told my wife I wanted to get a J.D. Initially she thought I intended to discard my degree in Computer Science and become a professional lawn mower. I quickly assured her that what I meant by J.D. was Juris Doctorate, not John Deere.

Home of the free

Land that I love

Since the 50’s the Mormon Church Leaders have encouraged Mormon families to set aside Monday nights as a Family Night. Monday nights are called Family Home Evening, we turn down outside commitments and spend the night at home with our family. We can read, pray, hold family meetings, sing, or do other fun family activities. In my family, Monday nights has to include a song, prayer, lesson, game, and treat. Because my family is very patriotic, we also have another tradition: The Flag Ceremony. The girls act as a color guard and we have The Pledge of Allegiance, and afterward we sing “She’s a Grand Old Flag“. It is really fun to watch the girls march around the family room with their flags every Monday night. Come on over and see what I mean.

This flag tradition started when I was a child. My parents were patriotic. Much like most people in this country, my great-grandparents, on both sides, were immigrants. My mom and dad started the flag thing during family home evening when we were kids and it slowly escalated into a full-blown production. We had a very long hallway in our house (all those kids + all those bedrooms = that long hallway) After, the flag ceremony, we would all march up and down the hall singing, “She’s a grand old flag”. After a while, my brothers got bored of just marching and they decided to surprise my parents, who always waited in the family room until we all decided to come back.

One night, my oldest brothers encouraged us younger kids to find a creative object from the bedrooms and to put it on top of our heads. Like in The Sound of Music, we always lined up, oldest to youngest. Of course, we did as we were told. We all got our objects, lined up in the hall, and marched out to the delightful surprise of mom and dad.

The objects started out: shirts, blankets, hats, toys. But the longer this game went on (which was quite some time) the objects got much more creative: underwear, laundry baskets, furniture, wastebaskets. (You get the picture) Looking back on this, we probably didn’t display the most reverence for the flag, but through this simple consistent tradition, my brother and sisters and I all formed a great love of the flag and of our mighty country.

Last summer, I was the Assistant Director, of the Knoxville Cumberland Stake’s Girls’ Camp. The Director was a good frined of mine and we worked REALLY hard at preparing a rememberable camp for the 100 girls that would attend this week-long camp at Pickett State Park.

One item of business that was especially important to me was the Flag Raising and Lowering. After reading my family’s history with the flag this won’t come as a surprise to you. My friend also knew of my love for America’s flag, but she didn’t seem to share my sentiment. I have been a leader for The Boy Scouts of America, and so I have witnessed how boys were taught about the flag. I felt like this camp was a rare opportunity to bring the girls up to speed.

Well, as the camp went on, it became more and more obvious that teaching the girls how to handle the flag was not a priority. I tried not to get frustrated as I wasn’t in charge, my friend was. One day, toward the end of camp, we were sitting together during a cheap attempt at a flag raising. I said to her, “What is the deal? Why don’t you care about this flag stuff?” She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Hello, I’m Canadian!”

Both of us just cracked up. I had forgotten that she was Canadian born. She is so “American”. When dealing with 100 teenage girls for a week, it is needless to say that this small bit of humor provided us with just 15 seconds of much needed laughter.

Moral of the story: Unless you are talking to Tom Brokaw, don’t expect your Canadian friends to love the flag as much as you do, and don’t try to have flag raising ceremonies with a Native Canadian leader.

My Fortune

Proud Daddy

Since Friday, my husband, LG, has been reformatting my hard-drive. It seems that this blogging business has been a little much for our 7 year old PC to handle. This is the reason I haven’t been on much. I still am and will be working out kinks in my system.

I came across this picture, and I just LOVE it. Look at how Happy the new daddy looks. This was Sophia when she was two days old. Sophia is LG’s spitting image now, but we never would have guessed it when she was so little. I love my husband, and seeing him as a GREAT father makes me love him even more. He is so tender with our girls and me, his wife, too. I am so FORTUNATE.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There are days that I want to strangle the guy. After all, he is a guy and we all know that us women and men have our differences. Take for instance, last night. We were sitting at the kitchen table for hours talking about our plans for the future; mostly, about whether or not it will be worth it for him to do the joint JDMBA. (Another year of this poverty seems like pure torture to us and our kids)While we “discussing” LG kept playing with the girls’ new plastic paperclip toys. It was so distracting, and I kept asking him to put them down while we talked. He would put them down, but somehow he would have them back in his hands ten minutes later.

Right, at the pinnacle of our conversation, the paperclip chain violently split in two and one half went flying through the air and down the heating vent. The other half were laying as guilty as could be in his hand and simultaneously, we both looked down at them. He then instantaneously tossed the leftover paperclips to the other side of the room like a red-handed robber. NORMALLY, a little thing like this would set me off. Little scenarios like this are caused by “the man gene” (all guys have it). They just HAVE to play and fidget. But, lucky for LG, I am medicated now and so I was able to just chuckle about “the man gene” just forcing my husband into playing with those darn paperclips, until like always, some kind of destruction occured.