Family. Isn't It About...Awesomeness?

Here's to the one good "f" word that make me more happy and thankful on this day than any other word in existence. As I ponder and collect my thoughts after an eventful holiday of sleeping, peeing, and popping all kinds of pain meds, I am reminded of how truly blessed we all are to be where we are today. As yesterday was my last Independence Day to celebrate at home for the next two years, I figured it was a perfect opportunity to "flog" all of you with a family blog.

I am not one for outlandish statements that aren't of the truthful variety, so when I say that my family is the greatest family ever, you should probably go ahead and believe me. It pains me to hear other kids sometimes say that they can't get along with their family and they always fight with each other. It makes me all the more grateful for the family I have and for the fact that we all genuinely care for one another. I don't know why I am the recipient of such an extraordinary blessing, but I do know that I am not complaining about it. Bear with me, for now I am going to bore all of you with a montage of fun family moments that make me happy to be a Willie.

Willardson Dialogue: A History

Me: Want to help me study for my English Exam? Tell me the past participle for the following words.

Me: Go.

Kristin: Go'd.

Me: Sit.

Dad: Sut.

Wendy: I would jump on a bus for that kid (Ryan, her son).

Anytime my dad uses the word "modem".

Kristin on pain meds: When does Devil Wears Prada come out on DVD?

Jenny: December 14th.

Kristin: Wow. You knew.

Jenny: I know lots of things.

Kristin: Tell me what else you know.

Jenny: Matt, if you go to seminary 25% each year, you'll have 100% by the time you graduate.

Jeff at dinner: Mom, is there any more loin?

Kristin: Can we not call it that?

Jeff: I'm sorry, pork anus?

Dad: There is a new show on TV about some geek who fixes things.

Jenny: Yeah? What's it called?

Dad: Nerds.

Jenny: Dad, it is not called Nerds.

Dad: Geeks? I don't remember.

Nate: I'm gonna be a hot professor...(thinks to himself)...I'll have to go back and get my Ph.D.

Tyler: You'd have to go back and get hot.

Nate, singing one of his patented songs: Jenny, finish this. Doo dooo dooo doo doo dooo _______.

Jenny: Treats?

Nate: Got it.

Nate regarding YouTube: Ooooh put my name in there! See what comes up. Probably me gettin on some hot chick.

Jenny: Ohhh did you guys see that thing on TV last night? About the blind boy who sees with his ears?

Dad: Laurie, I think I fixed the toilet handle.

Ryan: I pooped in Ellie's backyard yesterday.

Jenny: Sick Ryan, you pooped in her backyard?

Ryan: No Jenny! I pooped my pants in her backyard!

Jenny: Cut! Cut! Cut! CUTTTT!!

Kristin: Yes, I see you are cutting that apple.

Jenny: NO! I CUT MY FINGER!

Kristin: Don't get blood on my cook book.

Jeff: Dad, what's the weather look like for golf tomorrow?

Dad: High 40's.

Jeff: Sounds like Matt's front 9.

Dad: It'll be in the 50's on Friday, Jeff.

Jeff: ...Matt's back 9!

Dad brings Wendy some mysterious cough syrup

Wendy: Is this the correct dosage, Papa?

Dad: Yep. 1 teaspoon.

Wendy: Isn't 1 teaspoon 5 mL? Why are you givin me 7.5?

Dad: Whatever.

24 degrees outside

Ryan: Jen I want to play outside.

Jenny: Ryan it is SO cold outside! You don't want to go out there.

Ryan: No Jen it's okay! I want to feel the breeze.

Ryan: Uncle Tahhlur you need to get up! It's...oh I forgot what time it is. I'll be back.

Tyler waits for Ryan to come back.

Ryan: Uncle Tahhlur you need to get up! It's 9 o clock!

Dad: Hi Ryan!

Ryan: I'm going poo, Papa.

Dad: It seems you're always doing that when I say hi to you.

Jeff: Matt, this is your last chance to make cookie dough in 2008. The last thing you wanna do is regret stuff.

Wendy: Ry! Guess who's coming to visit us tomorrow?!

Ryan: Aunt K and Aunt Jenny!

Wendy: How did you know?

Ryan (serious look): Because I love them forever.

Jenny yelling upstairs: Open my suitcase and grab some sort of short or pant.

Me: Uhh alright but I don't know girls clothes too well.

Jenny: Matt, pants are pants.

Brooke: Matt, if there was a show called So You Think You Can Fart, I would send you straight to Vegas.

Jenny turns her eyelids inside out

Ryan: WOAH. That is NOT correct Jen.

Kristin to Nate: For someone that comes to our apartment solely to fart and use our internet, you're being pretty critical.

Dad: How you doin Jen?

Jenny: I'm okay.

Dad: Yeah. You've got no friends... no job... no money...

Jenny: Dad!!!

Dad: Oh I'm kidding Jenny!

Me to my mom while making cookies: If you put Crisco on your hands, does it have the same effect as lotion?

Nate: Jenny, do you want to end up with someone mediocre?

Jenny: Why do you think I'll end up with someone mediocre?

Nate: Because anyone compared to me is mediocre.

Ty (at Disneyland): If I don't find a bathroom real soon, my bladder's gonna be soarin over California.

Jenny: Ry, what kind of music do you like?

Ryan (age 5): The hard stuff.

Jenny: Like what?

Ryan: Dude Looks Like a Lady and Girls Girls Girls.

Jenny: Mom, if I was on American Idol would you vote for me?

Mom: No.

Now for the vids!

Ryan (Top Chef, Iron Chef, DJ Jazzy Chef)

Here, Ryan tells Aunt K and Aunt Jen about their "bridge" they made earlier.

Christmas H-O-R-S-E: A staple

Song by Snoop Dogg

Dancing With the Willardsons (one short of the big time)

Song by Miley Cyrus

Favorite video of our favorite place:

Balboa 2010 from Jenny on Vimeo.

(Hit the HD button to turn off HD if it loads really slowly)

Hopefully you, my loyal readership, are still there after this lengthy post. I'm sure I could go on for another few pages or so, but I'll save that for another day.

Meal Plans: Making Fat Kids Fatter Since 1922

Reese's, Gushers, SPK's, Cheese Nips, Ruffles, Pibb, Cactus Cooler, Doritos, Cosmic Brownies, Ritz Bits. As well as being items you might find in Kirstie Alley's pantry, the aforementioned foods are my dorm room WMD's. For those of you thinking I will die in my twenties, chill. I bought some grapes too, so I'm covered. I also have at my disposal some Martinelli's to haphazardly break out into celebration whenever occasion requires.

Last night I had the privilege of participating in my first intramural experience of my young collegiate career. I showed up at the tennis courts, expecting to see a freshman in proper tennis attire (jarpenters, wife beater, shin high socks, heelies) waiting for me to metaphorically defenestrate him back to the mortuary where him and his attire belong. Unfortunately, the guy told me he was in the MBA program and had made the finals twice before. It's not a good sign when you're playing someone who has more chest hair than you have actual hair. He took me down with authority 8-1, my 1 being a game where he double faulted 3 times.

At least I can take solace in the fact that I have mastered the art of bringing crowds to the pool table. I can constantly hit the cue ball in on the break, or send it flying off the table and down someone's shirt (you may know it better as the game "Get a Shirt That Fits", most often played with straw wrappers). My game has gotten to the point where I call the pocket for the 8-ball, as well as the cue ball. I wish I could say that the crowds which flock to the table consist of total hotties, but I'm afraid that is not the case. I seem to be advertising to the wrong target market, as all of my fans are males in pokemon shirts two sizes too small with a smile that says, "Hello world! May I take your order?"



On an unrelated note, I saw a party foul of unparalleled corpulence when I crossed paths with a kid in possession of deodorant in his backpack today. Buddy. I know you're trying to impress the ladies with your Old Spicity by swan diving into the best night of your life, but, contrary to popular belief, deodorant can be put on indoors, most commonly near sinks or other bathroom fixtures. Let's refrain from surreptitiously applying right before you drop this line to try and impress Veronica: "Hey there pretty mama. I see you're going to chemistry. Wanna see if we have any?" From personal experience, I know this is not an ideal way to score chicks.

Said kid is, however, very low on my list of people I would like to egg in the face. High on the list are a few kids on my own floor. Apparently it's still cool to leave full bags of trash outside of a stranger's door with a note that says, "Love, your secret admirer." It's nice to know that the only thing you like more than being a tool is men. Even more frustrating than these chumps are the 4 or 5 kids who thought it would be cool to make a band full of sounds that don't mesh. For instance, I heard a guitar along with a french horn the other day coming from the same room. French horn? What is this, 1781? No offense, but I would rather listen to Radio Disney than listen to your "Backstreet Boys meets Mozart meets crack" mixture.

*deuce chunked*

A Typical Day at BYU

Oh I took my blog to the market, and bought it some kind of fish sauce. Dap to those of you who have daily servings of StrongBad Email. Let me begin by saying I should either be sleeping or doing homework right now. But blogging and eating sounds so much better. Let the blogging commence.

Let me take you through an average day in my current life.

8:00-Wake up to Muse, techyes, or Enya, depending on the mood

8:10-Get up

8:17-Realize I have missed my opportunity for a balanced breakfast due to my 9 am class and pop open a coke and reese's

8:43-Wade through various things jean on my walk to campus

9:00-Sit through never-ending pi puns (get it?!) in calculus

10:06-Cactus Cooler run #1

10:47-Awkwardly attempt to smile at an attractive female on my way back to campus

10:48-Drop head in dejection

11:00-Half self-graded Book of Mormon class

11:54-Says nothing while walking next to an attractive female on way back to dorm

11:55-Drop head in regret

11:57-Cactus Cooler run #2 with an option for some sort of chip as well

12:45-Glances at full throttle 2 speed thrift store bike guy riding up hill to class

12:45:04-Drop head in disgust

1:00-Chemistry with the huddled masses

2:07-Quesadilla from Taco Bell

2:36-Cactus Cooler run #3

2:59-Power nap

6:03-Cactus Cooler run #4 with an option for dinner

8:17-Pool shark time

If time permits-Homework and sleep

Rinse. Repeat.

I'm a Human, Raised by Humans

Why the Elf quote, you ask? Despite my affinity for elf culture and all things Christmas, neither of those have caused this seemingly ill timed allusion, as it is just shy of 313 degrees Kelvin here in Plano. Trust me on the scale. I looked it up. Online. Outdated temperature scales aside, as I was at my pediatric dentist's office yesterday, I had an epiphany causing me to think of Buddy's encounter with the pediatrician (surprisingly, podiatrists and pediatricians are not one and the same) in the film.

Isn't he 18?
Aren't pediatric dentists for kids not tall enough to ride the Matterhorn?
Let me guess, he still wears a onesie too, doesn't he?

Laugh it up folks, but you heard me correctly. I still attend a pediatric dentist's office.

Naturally, I walked in like I owned the place yesterday, because I was a solid 8 years older than most kids in there, sans parents. Upon hearing, "Matthew's parents, please?", I anxiously awaited for 6 year old, chubby cheeks Matthew's parents to rise, but I realized the call was indeed for me, so I walked up like I owned the place, much to the chagrin of the receptionist. X-Ray lady scanned me and my teeth with macabre uneasiness, and sketchily asked, "What grade are you going into?". Probably used to getting first grade, third grade, or special programs, I kicked it up a notch and unsketchily played the freshman in college card.

I still attend Dr. Morgan's office for 3 reasons.

1. He has tetris and old school x-cite bike.

2. The fluoride stickers take me to my happy place.

3. They play Disney movies to lessen the pain they inflict upon your body.

Who's laughing now tools? What do you guys do in the real-world dentist's office? Read Martha Stewart Living? Watch MSNBC to catch the size of Keith Olbermann's forehead? Talk about your prostate? When I went in yesterday, they were showing Lion King. If I worked there I would try to soften the blow to the kid who has 7 cavities by telling him, "You've got a lovely bunch of cavities, DEEDLE DEE DEE! There they are all standing in a row. Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head!" What does your heartless, unaffectionate dentist tell you when you have cavities? "Hey patient 6, your teeth suck. That'll be $478."

Anyways, I had no cavities. Probably because every tooth in my mouth has had a cavity in every possible location already. Contrary to popular belief, pounding 4 Cherry Dr. Peppers the night before you have an appointment is ideal for producing no cavities. It worked for me at least. I am missing a wisdom tooth however. Just one. I think that one failed to concavicate (if only that were a real word) because my silly band in the vague shape of an owl was destroyed. As well as providing me with wisdom, that silly band was my totem. How am I supposed to know if I'm in reality?

Leo, your assistance is needed.

The Final Countdown

As if this post won't already be epic enough, let's throw this into the mix.

Feel free to continue reading, hold a knife with your teeth, or pause for 5 minutes and 8 seconds in memoriam of the best band ever to be named after a continent (although South America showed some promise a while back).

I am expecting this week to be the second most depressing week of my life. The first, of course, being when I found out Lance Bass was gay. That one took me a while to recover from. I'ma take my talents to BYU starting Sunday, and this week will be nothing short of bittersweet. Enough sad talk. I'm not T.O. trying to defend my quarterback.

On a happier note, I bowled a 201 last week. To the 2 of you out there who's first thought was "Hehe not too bad for the Wii", I commend you on being oh so original with your 1st edition comebacks. I channeled my inner chi flow from the Disney Channel classic "Alley Cats Strike" to the best of my ability. I may not be getting ready for college per se, but who needs a college education when I can make it big on the PBA? Who sponsors PBA events anyways, ShamWOW? I will pay their typical salary to anyone who can successfully name a professional bowler.

Expect $57.22 to arrive within 4 to 6 weeks.

But I digress. I have started to think of some creative ways to greet my roommate (grown men do not refer to roommates as "roomies"), and by so doing most likely make him toss a loaf in his jorts. All scenarios begin with me already in the room and him opening the door.

• *decked out in a wife-beater and heelies* "Oh hey bro, didn't see you there."
• "Sup bronads."
• *holding an iPad up to my ear while exclaiming, "You would not believe the looks I am getting right now."*
• *framing my face to Ace of Base songs* "Join me!"

Until next time folks.

*Chunks deuce*

Best Available Next to a Hottie

Friends. Romans. Countrymen. I apologize for the lack of bloggage lately. I have been on a magical journey to California for the last two weeks with all of the family present. It started off with a two-day car ride through h-e-double pixie stix, which included, but was not limited to, driving through El Paso, Van Horn, Midland and/or Odessa. I think I came up with quite a slogan for Van Horn while at the town hot-spot Pilot Travel Center: "Van Horn. Population: 7. IQ: Not Much Higher." The place is quite comparable to Middle Earth, and I will let you use your own figments of your imagination to figure out what that entails. The good news is that I felt right at home eating nothing but crap the whole ride to Orange County.

We finally arrived in the Golden State and the rest of our family was soon to follow. Several legen (wait for it) DARY events took place before the real fun at Balboa began, however. The jorts/jarpenters/jargos pandemic in the United States today is becoming more of an issue than the economy/SARS/Lindsay Lohan's jail time. All of you, if you were completely honest with yourselves, would have no choice but to agree that wearing

these babies

are a heinous offense that should be punishable by burning at the stake. If you don't believe me, lets take a peek at the Urban Dictionary definition for jorts.

"Jorts: Jean shorts. Worn mostly by children and douchebags. Jorts are perhaps the easiest way to recognize people you will not like. If you wear jorts, you probably don't talk to girls."

Since the only website I know of that is more reliable than Urban Dictionary is Cha Cha Answers, I'll take their word for it. We also made a stop at Chick-Fil-A before our stay at Balboa began. Here begins another rant.

If you know anything about my persona, you know that I have an affinity for all things Chick-Fil-A: the chicken, the sauce, the straws, the bathroom soap, all of it. So you might guess that when I saw a kid dressed in a suit and tie walk in with outside food, I went Chernobyl on him. A. You're 10 years old with some peach fuzz, and if you ever want to see your first chest hair, you better not pull that crap ever again. 2. Who wears a suit when they're ten? D. You have utterly (4 and a half gold stars for the cow pun) annihilated any chance of ever having offspring, as I will personally see to it that your avocados be turned into guacamole.

Balboa soon came, and the week went by much too fast as it always does. Several games of Scrabble were played, several cokes were pounded, and walks along the shore with the family were so very refreshing. During the week I had to sign up for a BYU Sports Pass for next year, and they left a slot for you to leave a comment regarding any seating preferences you may or may not have. Upon suggestion from Nater, I simply stated, "Best available next to a hottie." Hopefully Cecil B. can acquiesce to my request.

We also played our fair share of Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden on the trip. My game took about 8 paces backwards this past week, as I sent many a ball dry-heaving its way towards Davy Jones' Locker. I'm still getting the rights for my future best-selling novel which will have one of the following titles.

• How to Turn Three Into Seven by Sir Shanksalot
• How to Flag Down the Ever-Elusive Cart Girl by Duffy Waldorf
• How to Four Putt Your Titleist by Yips Don't Lie
• How to Look Good While Making an 8 by Imoffen N. Bunkers

Contact Barnes and/or Noble for your free pamphlet today.

Charismatic Leads FTW

Upon glancing at the title, if any of you are expecting a post on Kazaam or Fern Gully, look elsewhere. Last night I went to the midnight showing of Inception and it was amaZing, with a capital z. The plot is quite complex to follow at first, but once you catch on its mind bogglingly (sic) spectacular. I highly recommend this film to anyone who is a fan of awesomeness. You may remember my boy Joseph Gordon-Levitt from such hits as Angels in the Outfield (pictured here).

16 years later, he's still making classics and looking phunky phresh as seen here.

Basically, see the movie. You won't be disappointed.