Terrence part III

Thanks to all who voted. I thoroughly enjoyed reading what everybody had to say, especially Kristin and Melanie who apparently have some issues with guys like Chris. Good thing Melanie married one of them. It looks like the "Nays" won by a vote of 12 to 6, so Chris did not ask Annie for her number, but he still left on good terms, you needn't worry about that.

This week's episode is the double-date. I hope you enjoy it. I wish I had more time to write and more importantly edit, but I don't, so hopefully you find it entertaining. There will be no Terrence next week as we are off to California for some vacation. So you can reread chapters 1 and 2 to tide you over.

Chapter 1: Super Cute Sunday
Chapter 2: Ward FHE

Chapter 3

Double Your Pleasure

Friday, September 12, 2003

7:34 pm

All four of us crammed in Steve's Nissan Sentra, Terrence, Annette, Melba, and I were headed somewhere on our date. Terrence was driving, Annette riding shotgun, me directly behind Terrence and Melba opposite me, closing in fast. We had picked the girls up just minutes ago and Terrence was driving us toward a mystery destination that was sure to bring some good, clean, zoobie fun.

"So," Terrence said, "are you all ready to have some fun?"

"Oh yeah!" chimed Annette and Melba in unison. I rolled my eyes. I was Mr. Bad Attitude in the backseat, and proud of it.

"Hey, Terrence, can you at least tell us where we're going?" I asked.

"Can't, partner, it'd spoil the surprise." Terrence gave me a wink through the rear view mirror. Annette was giddy with excitement and Melba just kept staring at me. This was going to be a LONG night. I started thinking of excuses to get out of this. Should I fake like I got an emergency phone call? No, there'd be too many follow-up questions. Maybe fake the stomach flu? No, I'd get too much sympathy from Melba, and that would bring us (gulp) closer together. I think I'm stuck. Might as well make the best of it.

"So, Melba, where are you from?"

"Lehi." I guessed American Fark. I was close.

"So what do you do in Lehi for fun?"

"Oh, you know, make cookies. Chase cows. Churn butter. The yoozh."

"Yeah, uh, I guess I did a lot of that where I grew up, too."

"Oh, really? How long did you typically sour the cream for?"

Dangit! She actually wants to talk about this? Caught in the web of my own lies! Maybe I'll just play along...

"We usually would just buy sour cream from the store."

"LOL!! You're so funny, Chris. You know that's probably my favorite thing about you. That and your beautiful smile..." Melba reached out her hand to caress my lips. Her mitt was so meaty it looked almost like one of those latex gloves that you blow up into a balloon so it looks like an udder. She ran her index finger around my lips as I just sat there in horror.

Luckily, the car had stopped and we had arrived at Wal-Mart. Terrence swiveled his enormous head around and stated, "We're here!" with unfeigned excitement. Melba hurriedly removed her udder hand away from my lips and looked away bashfully, as if we'd just been caught making out. Annette gave her a coy glance that probably meant "You sly fox, you!"

"What on earth are we doing at Wal-Mart?" I asked.

"Okay, we're gonna have a little challenge. The winning couple buys the other a shake at the Malt Shoppe! What you have to do is pile a shopping cart full of 20 random goods you find in the whole store. Then we meet back and exchange shopping carts. The first one to put all of the goods back wins!"

The girls whooped and hollered. "Oh, that's a great idea! This will be so much fun!" I threw up a little in my mouth. I better be rewarded in heaven for this.

Terrence and Annette jumped out of the car, clasped hands, and skipped together into the store. Melba reached out her chubby hand, but I pretended not to see and left her hanging. I grabbed a shopping cart and we started down the aisle.

"Let's go into women's apparel!" suggested Melba. That sounded like an awful idea. Bras made me nervous and queasy. We headed there anyway, straight to the underwear section. It was almost like Melba was going to do a little shopping of her own with her new beau. I tried to think pleasant thoughts while she rifled through the merchandise, throwing items into the cart. 20-pack of XXL women's briefs. Size 16 jeans. Women's Plus Halter Dress. Pleasant thoughts, nice thoughts.

From there we headed to the baby section. "How many kids do you want to have?" she asked.

"I dunno, a few, I guess."

"Well, I think we should have 6. Because that's how many is my family, and we're perfect."

"That sounds like a good plan. Let's have 6." Melba looked at me and gave me a big "I'm so glad we're dating" smile.

Melba threw some more items in the cart: electric breast pump, nursing pillow, 4-sided changing pad.

"What's your opinion on breast-feeding?" she asked.

"Seems cheaper than the alternative," I deadpanned.

"Well, I was breast-fed until a late age, and I turned out great, so that's what I'm going to do."

"Well, I'll make sure you have a comfortable feeding den." She smiled at me again.

We got our 20 items, thankfully walking right past the feminine hygiene aisle, and met Terrence and Annette at the front. Inside their cart were things I hadn't ever seen before. Annette had a look in her eye like "No way I'm losing to a chump like you, Chris!" If I weren't dating Melba, Annette would probably have me killed, she was in no way fond of me. We swapped carts and they took off in a sprint. I pushed ours over to sporting goods and proceeded to stuff all of the items into the shelves.

"What are you doing? Chris, those all don't belong there!"

"Look, this game is stupid. If I wanted to stock shelves at Wal-Mart, I'd at least get paid minimum wage to do it, I don't do it for free."

Melba's lips quivered and her eyes started to gleam. "What are you saying, Chris?" A single tear ran out of her left eye. "Does this mean you don't want to be with me anymore?"

Oh geez. Damage control time. "Look, Melba, we're not dating. We're on a date. And I like you just fine, I just don't like this little game Terrence made up."

"Is it because I'm fat? Do you think I'm too fat?" More crying. I just wheeled the empty shopping cart back to the front of the store with my pathetic crier moping along. Seconds later, Terrence and Annette came hauling down the aisle, Annette sitting in the cart with Terrence pushing. Once they saw us with an empty cart, their faces dropped.

"How could you have beaten us?" asked Terrence. "We had some really tough-to-find items in there!"

Melba wiped away a tear and said in a shaky voice, pointing at me, "He cheated."

Annette jumped out of the cart and got in my face. "You cheated?!?! What!??! And why is Melba crying!?!?! What kind of person are you?!" Terrence just shook his head like a disappointed father. Annette put her arm around Melba who broke into an all-out sob.

"So...who wants ice cream?"

11:55 pm

After the Wal-Mart debacle, the Malt Shoppe turned out to be quite pleasant in comparison. Which goes to prove my theory that nothing ever goes wrong in the Malt Shoppe. Once Melba started drowning her sorrows in her Reese's shake (with chunks of Snickers, Heath Bar, and Oreo), the world seemed like a better place. Terrence and Annette were getting along swimmingly, discussing the benefits of hay versus alfalfa, when the best time to plant is, and what to do with a bull that won't mate with the cows. I learned quite a lot, watching Terrence really dive into the conversation. He had no inhibitions, he was just himself and completely honest. This really made Annette feel welcome to put down any guard she may have and open up herself to a relationship that could really go places. They held hands off and on and they both had that dream-gazing look in their eyes. This was good. This was REALLY good.

We dropped the girls off with no fireworks or drama. No kisses between T and A, no crying from Melba. She hadn't spoken much to me since Wal-Mart, but I enjoyed the silence. At least I don't have to break her heart later, she should hate me enough already.

We walked into the apartment, and to our surprise, the King was sitting on the couch watching SportsCenter. Terrence sat down next to him, me in the recliner across from them. The King turned off the TV and focused on Terrence.

"How was your date?" the King asked.

"Pretty good, sir. The ladies were very cordial."

"How did you get along with Annette?"

"Oh, we got along great. There was pleasant conversation almost non-stop. She's real smart and knows her way around a cow, that's fer sure."

The King paused to think. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After about a minute, he heaved a sigh, faced Terrence, looking him directly in the eye and asked him the most Bishop-like tone possible: "Was there any physical intimacy?"

Terrence looked confused for a second. "We held hands, if that's what you're asking."

"No kissing?"

"Nope."

"Okay, then, you may proceed with the second date."

"Well, King, I don't know if I want to just yet. She's a great girl and all, I'm kinda attracted to her, but there's another girl I think I'd be more interested in." What? What about all the hand-holding and cow talk?! Did that all mean nothing to him?

"Annie?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

The King just gave him a sly, don't-be-ridiculous-I-know-everything look and smiled. "Look, Terrence, it's important to date around, you'll get a good idea of what you really want. But you'll risk alienating Annette, who seems like a really good match for you."

"You're right, but I just am really interested in Annie, and she's all I think about."

All of this talk about Annie made me wonder if I had made a huge mistake by not asking for her number on Monday. At that point, Terrence hadn't made a real move on her and it wouldn't be considered foul play if I would've gotten her number. But it looked like Terrence was going to ask her out and my chances with Annie would be gone for the immediate future.

But isn't that what I wanted? Just to get to know her better, develop a friendship and save her for later? But what if she's not available? The ward menu comes out on Sunday, and we'll have the draft that night, so I need to be available for my first and second rounders. I know the Steves are really gearing up for this, so I might as well just put Annie to the back of my mind for now. Terrence could take her out, for all I care.

SHOULD TERRENCE ASK OUT ANNIE? OR SHOULD HE KEY IN ON ANNETTE FOR NOW? OR MAYBE FIND A NEW GIRL TO DATE? THE CHOICE IS YOURS AT CHUCK-A-RAMA! BE SURE TO VOTE AND JOIN IN NEXT TIME FOR MORE ZOOBIE DRAMA!

Tony Soprano Goes Country

Tony Soprano has nothing to do with country, but neither do the two subjects I'm posting about. The first is just something rather comical (in retrospect) that happened to me at work last week. On occasion at work I have to deal with patients, usually the angry or upset kind. Well, one patient had accused an employee of stealing $5,000 cash from him. (NOTE: For those of you who know where I work, this accusation is completely false, so don't worry). He claims he came in with $11,000 in cash and only got credit for $6,000. Who carries that much cash around? Who??

So a meeting is set up with the director of the clinic, myself, and this patient - at his request. So in comes this skinny, older, Italian man with Gucci glasses and a golf umbrella. The introductions commence, and he sits down, immediately going into this tirade about the "Liar" and "thief" that stole his money. We tried to slow him down, get him to explain what he believes happened, politely listening. Then we tried to explain what we understood and what we had as evidence. He just kept getting more heated informing us that he was "not a feeble old man." Sir, I would never believe that about you...trust me, not with that look in your eye. As we try to calmly assess the situation he continues to interrupt us in a condescending tone. The highlight of the conversation was when he threw out such gems as the following (and these are direct quotes):

• "I can forgive a murderer before I can a liar or a thief."
  
• "I am 76 years old and if this was 50 years ago, I would have punched her to death."
• "There are cemeteries full of dead guys, and how do you think they got there?"

And one of my favorites: When I asked him if he had an account statement showing a withdrawal of cash in the amount he claims he brought with him...

• "Do I look like a guy who would have a bank account?"

Oh, I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize you could tell who participated in the institutionalized banking system just by looking at them...And let's just say that I, for one, am grateful that it's not 50 years ago and the "justice" system has evolved a little...

And now to the country...the long-awaited Dallas update that Kent nags about but refuses to do himself.

At the end of March I had a conference for work in Dallas so Kent tagged along so we could mix business with pleasure and visit JoEllen and her family. I have to go on record that these are some of the cutest kids I've ever met...not just in looks but also in personality. And I think it's important to report that the rift between Kent and Matthew that was created at Christmas has been bridged. In fact, this fact was made very clear when I went to visit the Morris' on my last day there, without Kent, and Matthew went straight into a depression when he opened the door and found Aunt Melly, Uncle Kent-less. But my feelings weren't hurt because I had Katrina and Maxwell to soften the blow. Kent obviously was able to spend more time with JoEllen and Co. than I was, but I tried to enjoy whatever time I had with them. For Family Night Kent hosted Kite flying and I think it's safe to say he enjoyed it much more than anyone else involved. Each kid took a turn with the SpiderMan kite, and Dora was left grounded without a spine (or whatever you call that stick that goes across the back).
And, if you haven't already, make sure you read the next installment of Terrence and vote...

Not Entirely About Terrence

By my count, Annette had 8 votes, Anita had 5, and Annie had 5. Thanks for all who read and voted. I apologize for the long posts but I should probably say that this is optional reading, you will not be tested on this. So that means you DON'T HAVE TO READ IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO. It is purely for entertainment, and hopefully you will be entertained. I will try to keep it succinct and not boring. And for those of you who want pictures and updates about the Hansens, well, I don't know what to tell you. The person responsible for that is clearly not on the ball. There's only so much nagging I can do.

So, enjoy the 2nd chapter and please, please, PLEASE vote. I am having a fun time doing this so I thank you all for your support.

Not Entirely About Terrence

by Kent Hansen

Chapter 2

Ward FHE

Monday, September 8, 2003

4:23 PM

After a long day of checking out chicks at the library, the Wilk, the Wall, and in class, it was nice to get back to the apartment for a little late-afternoon Seinfeld. It wasn't long before our hero Terrence made his way back home from the UVSC Wolverines.

"Hey Terrence," said I.

"Hey rancher," said he, "You working hard or hardly working?!"

[Forced laugh]

Terrence piled his body onto the couch and dropped his bag on the floor. We sat there in awkward silence during a Nasonex commercial, watching that bee zip around the screen and wondering what a bee has to do with mucus. Finally, I broke it with a query:

"So, did you decide which girl you're going to ask out?"

"Yesirreerobert! I already done it. Called her this mornin'."

"This morning? What time? Who was it?"

"Annette. I think I have a lot in common with her, so I decided on her. I called her right before my 8 AM class."

Eight o'clock in the freaking AM! It boggles the mind. For those of you following along, Terrence broke 2 rules here: first of all, Terrence calls this girl not 1 day after he gets her number, breaking rule #34, and second of all, he calls her before 8 am on a Monday!

"So, uh, what'd she say?"

"She'd been up since 5 am! Used to the farm life and all that, she had to get up super early to finish her homework that she couldn't do on the Sabbath. She was tickled pink to go out with me!"

"Wow."

"I know! I'm tremendously stoked. We're going out Fridee."

I shuddered at the thought of 2 complete Zoobs going out and pictured what a great time they'd have. I imagined them opening the date with a scripture, walking down to Cafe Rio to get a side of rice, then heading to Movies 8 to walk out of a PG-13 movie, finishing it off with a friendly handshake. I almost entertained the idea of following them for comedy's sake.

"What are you gonna do Fridee?" asked Terrence.

"Oh, I don't have much planned right now. It's only Monday."

"That's great, because her roommate isn't doing nothin' either and you can double with us!" His eyes were bulging with excitement.

My heart sank. I was NOT prepared for this. I had no ready-made excuse, I had just said that my Friday was free and he had me cornered. Maybe her roommate was hot, though. This may be fun.

"What's her roommate like?"

"Oh, she's a real sweetie, her name's Melba."

"Like the toast?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

A "sweetie" named Melba. NOT a good start. This girl was for sure a chunkster from American Fark. But what could I do? I was stuck.

Terrence got off the couch and slapped me thunderously on the back while walking out, "We'll have a great time!"

9:33 PM

Tonight was the first FHE of the semester, which means that FHE "families" haven't yet been created. This is the only palatable time to go to FHE, when the entire ward goes and has some activity built around food, folks, and fun. It's also a great time to look like Mormon Dad material, being active at FHE and all that, if only for one week.

The Steves and I crawled into Chris's Nissan Sentra and headed out to Kiwani's to meet the rest of the ward there. We showed up fashionably late as usual, 10 minutes after Mormon Standard Time, which varies depending on the ward, in this case 20 minutes. The key to a successful ward FHE is to be the guy everybody knew you could be. In Church you're super suave, at Ward Prayer you're too cool for school, but at FHE you're that nice guy with an appropriate sense of humor and good-looking to boot. This is the exact time and place to win over all the ladies. This is what you've been preparing your whole life for. The pressure was on.

The barbecue had just begun and a large line was forming. If you want the good pickin's for the food, you get in front of the line. If you're there for the ladies, you go to the back. That way, you're the last person to pick a seat, which means you can strategically sit next to that cutie you've had your eye on. Of course, once the semester wears on and all the girls become old news, you cut your way to the front of the line, grab maximum food, eat, and run.

I spotted Terrence from the back of the line. He was near the front, cramming his plate full of hot dogs, hamburgers, and chips. I chuckled to myself, self-righteously. Terrence always looks like an ogre. It looked like he had a nice place in line, though, a couple of lookers were right behind him. Not only that, but they followed him to the table he chose and sat right next to him! I figured one of them was Annette, so maybe the other was Melba...I wouldn't mind being the cheese on her Melba toast.

This fantasy was interrupted by the squatty person directly in front of me:

"Hi," squatty said, reaching out her hand, "I'm Annette."

"Hello, Annette," I said, eyes darting to find a way out of what should be a downright unbearable conversation, especially given the length of this line. The worst part was that this ruled out Terrence's cute friends as Annette and Melba, since I was guessing that Melba was the sturdy woman gnawing on a turkey bone behind Annette.

"This is my roommate, Melba." Melba nodded, not leaving her bone for even a second. "Do you have a name?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Chris."

"Are you Terrence's roommate?"

"Uh...yeah."

For the next 15 minutes, Annette told me her life story. Her monologue stated that she grew up on a farm in Michigan, she was a Senior graduating in MFHD, and she was clearly desperate to get engaged.

"I need to get married this year. If I don't get married before I graduate, it may never happen. Girls at my age, 22, are too old to be running around husbandless, when really we need to be at home procreating. It may come as a surprise to you that I've never had a BF, but it's true. But I've got a date on Friday with Terrence, and Melba's going with his roommate, Chris. Which I believe is you."

I nodded.

"But enough about you. Let's go over and talk to Terrence. I know Terrence likes me cause he called me only one day after getting my number and he called me at 7:45 in the morning."

The worst part about meeting new people is that you always run the risk of getting a roper, someone who will rope you in for the rest of the evening. You can make excuses, but unless you plan on leaving altogether, the roper will always find you later. Annette had roped me in, and my only hope was to pawn her off on Terrence. That wasn't entirely bad, as I was still interested in meeting Terrence's friends.

We grabbed our food and sat down next to Terrence and Cute Friends. Of the 2, I was particularly fond of the brunette. She couldn't be claimed as The Hottest Girl in the Ward, but she was a natural beauty, didn't wear much makeup, wore stylish but not trendy clothes, and was definitely marriage material. Terrence stood up when we arrived.

"Oh, hey guys! Siddown, siddown! Chris, I see you've met Annette and Melba. I'd like you to meet my friends, Annie and Brooke." I waved, the girls waved back. Based on the order of introduction, Annie was the name of the brunette, and, as I recall, Annie was one of the 3 girls Terrence had gotten a number from. Annette stared down the 2, not immediately knowing which girl was pouncing upon her suitor. Melba had already stuffed her mouth with potato salad and just nodded to all present. Maybe it was too much time with Terrence, or maybe it was the stink eye that Annette had given her, but Annie seemed pretty happy to welcome a new male to the table.

"Hi! Are you Terrence's roomie?"

"Yeah, that's me. The infamous roommate of Terrence. I trust he's portrayed me in a half-decent light, at least?"

"Oh you know Terrence is way too nice to defame anybody, including people deserving defamation such as yourself." This is nice. It looks like she has a brain and a sense of humor, two things I look for in a woman, not necessarily in that order. Plus, Terrence looked genuinely lost.

Annette piped up. "Chris is my friend, we've known each other for a while," she stated while grabbing my hand and watching Terrence out of the corner of her eye. Terrence had a confused look on his face still. I cringed and pried my hand away, shoving it into my pocket. Annette turned her attention squarely to Terrence. "So, T, what are we going to do on our big date on Friday? I know Chris and Melba are very excited to spend the evening together."

Terrence blushed and half-smiled at Annie, who looked highly amused. "Well, Annette, it's gonna be a surprise."

While Annette and Terrence battled over the details of the upcoming date, Annie looked at me with a mischievous grin and asked, "So, Chris, how long have you and Melba been dating?"

"Oh, you know, for a couple of years now. She waited for me while I was on my mission, and she's been very faithful even though I'm very abusive." Melba's eyes perked up with delight. Annie smiled flirtatiously and I knew she was mine for the taking.

Call me conceited if you will, but there's a moment in every conversation with the opposite sex when you know that the other person wants you. Usually it's just that look in the eye, the shy smile, the subtle raise of the eyebrows. I probably have this moment more than most, of course, because I'm so desirable.

As Annette FCP'ed Terrence (FCP: Verb. Derived from the English phrase Full Court Press. To shower with attention; to need to know everything about someone; to invite to all upcoming activities.), Melba eyed me adoringly, Brooke sat at the table bored stiff, and Annie and I flirted, I wondered whether to ask Annie for her number. You may not think that it's a big deal, but you don't just ask for numbers of girls like Annie. Some points to consider:

1. Annie was a keeper. Attractive, funny, smart, etc. This was no NCMO.
2. Annie is a wardie. She's not going anywhere. No need to rush this.
3. The semester is young. Don't wanna get tied down with a girlfriend until at least November. There are quite a few wardies that are lookers, plus all the girls at the Cougs.
4. I'm young. Don't wanna be the guy that gets married too fast.
5. Terrence got her number and looks interested in her. Do I cut his grass? I'm not his best friend, but I'm still his roommate, there's at least a little bit of loyalty there.

What I'm saying is this: Because Annie is a keeper, I can't lose my chance by acting too fast. If I get her number now, that means I have to call her, which means I have to ask her out, which means I have to date her, which means if I fail in any of these things, I'm a jerk and I've ruined my chance. I'd rather just take it slow. That way, we can build the friendship, maybe keep the tension going for a while and I'll take her out in mid to late October.

Buuuuuuuuuuuut, she's a cutie and she's fun to talk to and she looks like she's interested in me. Should I ask for her number?

SHOULD CHRIS ASK FOR ANNIE'S NUMBER? PLEASE VOTE AND JOIN IN NEXT TIME AS TERRENCE GOES OUT WITH ANNETTE.

Terrence Update

Okay, thanks for everybody for voting. Well, thanks to everybody that voted for voting. Everybody who didn't vote deserves no thanks at all. So far, I have Annette leading with 6, Anita with 4, and Annie with 3, although some of those Annette anonymous votes look suspicious. But I said that all anonymous votes count and Kurt vouched for Alice and the other person, who is not Alice and I'm assuming not Kurt because he made the Julie Parker reference the time before. So who is it, Kurt? And would you just get a blogger ID already!

So I'm closing the voting Tuesdee night, that is, it's final when I come into work Wed morning. And I can't give you more information regarding the 3 candidates, as we only know what Terrence has told us, which isn't much. Plus, in college you had to just go on dates with people that you barely knew, right? So that's what this is. Just make your best guess. We will learn more about them later. Feel free to give insights into your BYU dating experience like Kristin and Jaime did, I'm sure I've forgotten a few details.

Given the nature of what I've created, it's fairly obvious that I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, and these posts will probably just get more and more ridiculous, kind of like "Arrested Development". And I didn't really base Terrence off of anybody, just your typical goofy RM looking to get married fast, which is about 90% of BYU, all those Zoobs. Of COURSE the narrator Chris employs many of the same tactics that me and my roommates used, but I don't think he is entirely like me, more like that guy in the ward that was even cooler than me, if you can even imagine that.

As for our Dallas pictures and trip synopsis, that is squarely on the shoulders of my wife. It is her responsibility to blog about such boring things, as she was born without an imagination. It's quite sad, really.

Also, congrats to Heidi and Aaron for the latest Hansen kid, and congrats to Kurt and Alice for their conception, soon to be leaving me and Mel as the Sole Hansens Without Children. So I guess I should maybe take that congratulations back, as now we will be asked on every occasion, "Where the fetch are your kids?!" To which I will answer: "Melanie is barren, thanks for bringing that up."

This is how one should "stir the pot" to get one's spouse to finally write a post.

Choose your own Terrence

So I promised some rootin' and/or tootin' fun, and I hope I will not disappoint. Of course, it ended up taking a little longer than I planned, as I decided to go with a story. Now, we all remember those Choose Your Own Adventure stories from back in the day, so I figured I could do one like that. I picked a subject that most of the readers (except my wife, which makes it even better) can identify with, that is, dating at BYU. So hopefully you will enjoy the topic (sadly, not about Tony the Tunisian Turtle), and the story. Please vote and check back for updates!

All About Terrence

by Kent Hansen

Chapter 1

Super Cute Sunday

September 7, 2003, 10:32 AM:

I'd like you all to meet Terrence. Terrence is from a small town in Idaho. Terrence likes bologna sandwiches, tootsie-roll pops, and reads Ranching Weekly faithfully every 2 weeks on Mondays. Terrence is a Mormon, and just returned from his mission to Caracas, Venezuela. Here is a picture of Terrence on his mission:

As you can see, Terrence is a bit heavy. It should be noted that although he eats relatively healthy bologna sandwiches, he likes to eat them with a side of steak and chicken. Also, he consumes obscene amounts of Chili Cheese Frito's, which are, as everybody knows, extremely delicious. It is widely suspected that he has eaten his siblings as he says he is an only child, and everybody knows that Mormons don't have only one kid.

I know Terrence because I live with him at the Grand View Apts in Provo, Utah. My name is Chris. Who I am is less important, however, as this story is about Terrence, but I'm sure I'll squeeze some little tidbits about myself in there as well. All the reader needs to know about me is that I'm 6'3", ripped and cut, and breathtakingly good looking.

Our apartment is a total dive. There are 8 dudes in a 3 bedroom apartment. The Steves rotated between sleeping on the couch and the floor, and the bedrooms were divided thusly:

Bedroom 1: Chris, Chris, and Terrence
Bedroom 2: Frank, and Frank
Bedroom 3: The King

My room has a bunk bed that I share with Chris, and Terrence sleeps on the floor in his corner of the room. Terrence has no money and doesn't pay rent, neither do the Steves. In fact, the only person that pays rent is The King, and that's why he's The King. He gives all the orders around here and you have to comply if you want a roof over your head.

Most of us go to BYU. We live immediately south of campus, near the Manavu chapel on 6th and 4th, right across the street from "Puberty Square" where the Beautiful Sophomores live.

Anyway, Terrence came to Provo for one reason and one reason only: he was going to get married. Of course, while in Provo you have to carry on an act like you are there for a legitimate reason, like hair school or work at 7-eleven or something, so Terrence registered at UVSC. I'm not sure how he paid for tuition or if he got a loan or anything, I frankly don't know the kid that well. He just moved in last week, and I'm just going on hunches for right now.

Today is Sunday, so we're getting ready for church. Terrence is squeezing his 250 pound frame into his mission suit that had clearly been altered more than once. He still had that fresh from the mission smell. Wide-eyed, grinning, super positive about everything. It made me wanna puke. Meanwhile, I'm typing this story out on my ancient Commodore computer and hoping it saves itself on the 5 and a quarter inch floppy disk that is so old it actually IS floppy. I'm holding onto this computer and my brick of a cell-phone in case they start selling them as antiques and the price goes up to 5 grand, which is roughly what my dad paid for both back in the 80's.

Whoops, gotta go! Terrence has somehow got that suit around him and it's off to church.

2:12 PM:

This is the best time of the week. The longest possible time before we have to go back to church. Although it must be admitted that the first Sunday of the semester is the best. First, you get to scope out all the new meat in your ward, count the hot chicks, order them by dating priority, and develop a plan of attack. All during Sacrament meeting, because the plan of attack starts as soon as it ends, so you'd better be ready.

Once Sacrament meeting ends, you talk to all the people you already know in a conspicuous place that is in the direct vicinity of the projected paths your priorities will be taking. This is where the first seeds are planted. As you carry on some mundane conversation with some Gomer about his summer ("Yeah, so I sold pesticide in Alabama, made a TON of cash. You wanna do that this next summer? We're having a meeting at Brick Oven, free pizza!") you keep your eyes on the passing traffic with your sleeves rolled up to show your bulging biceps to maximize awesomeness. Did I mention you should do some push-ups during the closing prayer to pump yourself up?

Anyway, the key here is to get that initial eye contact. You need to let the girls see how fine of a specimen you are (DANGNABBED fine) so that they will remember you in later events. You do NOT rush to meet them--that makes you appear overanxious and weird.

Which, as I was getting to, was EXACTLY what Terrence did. Typical rookie RM mistake. He zeroed in on some hot chick (priority #7 in my own personal rankings) that was WAY out of his league and approached her, awkwardly standing next to her while some other Waldo with thick glasses was making her acquaintance. I guess I should give him a LITTLE credit, because the Waldo was going to make Terrence look relatively good in the following conversation I was just near enough to hear:

Waldo: So I noticed you're new here to the BYU 963rd ward, let me tell you about some math jokes I learned while working VERY closely with my mission president, if you get my drift, which of course means I was an AP on the mish...
#7: Yeah, the thing about math jokes is...
Terrence (way too loud): THE THING ABOUT MATH JOKES IS THAT THEY ARE LAME, JUST LIKE YOU, LAME-O. HAHAH, LAME.

Okay, so Terrence is a little loud. I should mention that. His bellowing was so loud that the entire foyer (pronounced foy-ay because I'm better than you) stopped mid-mingle to see what the ado was about. This led to Terrence turning Ute Red and #7 awkwardly sliding away. It was obvious to all that Terrence was a big oafish oaf and not to be trusted in situations where you would like to improve your social standing. Not a good first impression for Super Cute Sunday.

However, it was time for Sunday School to start, which led us to part 2 of Operation: Hunt for Wife. There are a couple of approaches here:

1. Sit in the front of the class, answer any and all questions, thereby impressing everyone as the Super Scriptorian, and the chicks will come flocking.
2. Walk in noticeably late right in front of the class, say "Sorry I'm late" for extra attention, run fingers through your high-maintenance "I don't care about my hair" hair, sit down right in the middle so everyone can get a good look, lean WAAAY back in your chair, and the chicks will come flocking.
3. Sit in the back, place your elbows on you knees, your face in your hands, and go to sleep. No chicks will come flocking.

I would venture to say that only the second option is an acceptable approach for that first month of Sundays. After that, the third option is acceptable and encouraged.

After my big entrance to Sunday School, I plopped myself in the middle of the class and leaned way back like the instruction manual said. I noticed priority #2 in the corner, but she was NOT checking me out. #8 and #10 had given me a few casual glances, which I will chalk up to "checking out". And, of course, all the Sweet Spirits were just drinking me in.

Unfortunately, Terrence was another train wreck. There he was, front and center, doing everything but taking the manual from the instructor and teaching the lesson himself. The worst part were his tacos, which had made it's way from the white shirt to the suit coat. I've only seen tacos in a suit coat once, in Chris Farley's "Matt Foley" skit, which may or may not have been real. Nobody had joined him in the front row, and there were visible fingers pointing at him from the Great and Spacious back row. Terrence was KILLING my image. Having a total Gomer like that in your apartment just reflects poorly on all roommates.

The rest of church went by without incident. Intermission between Sunday School and Priesthood was quiet, we received the usual Chastity speech from the bish during Priesthood, and that was that. I'm not much for walking home with prospects, usually RS goes 30 minutes long and EQ gets out 15 minutes early. We do have Ward Prayer later, so there's that to look forward to.

11:16 PM:

Since this journal of The Adventures of Fatso Terrence is evolving into How Not to Get Dates in Provo, I'll inform the aspiring Coug on the proper way to go about Ward Prayer:

Lesson #1: Ward Prayer is not cool. It is for dorks. It is a Meat Market. You are too cool for Ward Prayer.
Lesson #2: You should never, ever, EVER miss Ward Prayer.

Ward Prayer also uses the Principle of Punctuality (as seen in Sunday School), which is to say that you should NEVER be punctual. You show up late, in jeans, flips, and your favorite antique T-shirt that you bought at A&F for 40 bucks. It is essential that you bathe in the trendiest cologne so everybody knows that the Guy Who Smells Good is you and you alone. A good time to show up is usually right AFTER the spiritual thought and right BEFORE the actual prayer. Showing up during the spiritual thought is also an acceptable time to make the Big Entrance, as most people only pay attention to the thought for about one minute, thereby ensuring that you will steal most of the attention during your big, loud entrance. Don't forget to apologize for being late, you want to make it look like you didn't plan this.

The key time to focus on babes is immediately after Ward Prayer. Take special notice of your priorities' habits. Who goes straight back to the apartment? Who stays and mingles? Who is getting the most attention? Once again, don't make the mistake of pouncing too early. Acquiring a serious girlfriend in the first few months of a semester is a serious mistake that few have bounced back from.

OF COURSE this means that Terrence had pounced. He was making the rounds around the room, hopping from female to female to female with a notepad and pen. I prayed he wasn't using that to jot down numbers. But, of course, he was. Terrence was breaking EVERY rule in my book, looking like the typical newbie fresh RM with too much gusto and positive attitude. It was people like him that gave me, the 23-year-old vet, a bad name. "Why aren't you married yet? How come you don't already have 6 kids?" the grandparents ask. You watch, in two months, they will be saying, "That nice boy Terrence is already married and he got home 2 months and one week ago! And, his wife is pregnant!"

The news just got worse when we reconvened for the Sunday Comp Inventory at the apartment. We had just gone around the room and evaluated our rankings, how much eye contact we got, who's going after whom, you know, the standard. That's when Terrence walked in, all jittery and excited. His face was shiny and vibrant with rosy cheeks not unlike Mr. Claus of Christmas fame, his tacos were fresh and now connecting in the middle of his chest, and his belly shook like a bowl full of, for lack of a better word, jelly.

"3 numbers!" he exclaimed, holding up his pad of paper. "3 phone numbers of eligible ladies I met tonight!"

We all glanced at each other. 3? Really? That's kind of impressive. But him? They HAVE to be sweet spirits. Unfortch, we knew nobody's name yet, as the menu wouldn't come out until next Sunday. We only had faces and descriptions: Too much make-up chick, really tan chick, butter face chick, prom dress chick, claw-bangs chick, hair-school chick, etc.

We all sat silent as Terrence stood in the doorway, heaving, trying to catch his breath. Then we heard the King's door open slowly and creekily. There were footsteps down the hall, and we all held our breath. I hadn't actually ever SEEN the King, I had only seen the light in his room go on and off during the quiet of the night. Some said he slept only during the day, and was a vampire at night. Some said he had so many girlfriends that he was gone at all times trying to date them all. Some say he went to the U.

The King entered the room and made his way towards Terrence, stopping only a foot away from his jiggling belly. Since then, I've been trying to think of the words to describe the King, and I only can come up with this: If you are a single man at BYU, you wish you looked like the King. His clothes weren't that special, but he made them look special. His hair was nothing extraordinary, but he wore it like a crown. I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped in awe.

The King broke the silent reverence by lifting his right arm and placing it on Terrence's shoulder. Was he going to scold him? Was he going to extol him? The Steves looked down at the carpet, afraid to watch.

"Good job, Terrence. 3 numbers at one Ward Prayer is most impressive. However, you may only take one out at a time."

Terrence nodded, eyes bulging with fear, teeth chattering, face sweating. The King did a formal soldier-like about-face and marched back to his room.

We all looked at each other, all too scared to confront this remarkable turn of events. Finally, Frank 1 (or was it 2?) asked Terrence, "So, who's it gonna be?"

Terrence blinked and abruptly shook his head as if awaking from a bad dream. He sat down and started a twangy oration that could neither be stopped nor should have been:

"Well, fellas, it's the danged-est thing. When I walked into Sacrament meeting, I had never seen so many lookers in my life. There was the red-headed gal in the yellow dress, my lands! She had nice gams. Then there was the darker gal from some island nation, maybe Mexico. Then there was the blonde one, from the frozen north I should think, or maybe Salt Lake. And the brunette, she was all a fella could take! Anyway, I was in hog heaven and coulda married any of 'em right there and then. Welp, I decided during testimony meeting that I was a-gonna marry one before semester's end, so I needed to get on my fastest hoss to do that. After much trial and tribulation during church, I had more success at Ward Prayer! But now, I dunno who to choose. They are all equally sweet and spirited! One's name is Anita, she is a beaut from Tennessee. She was the queen bee from her high-school and talked to me for all of one minute! The next is Annette, from Michigan, and she likes sports and cows and horses and pigs, just like myself! The last is Annie, from Warshington, and she is the most spirit-chal gal I'd ever met. She told me that she woulda liked to stay and talk but she had her next week's Sunday School lesson to prepare! I wish I could marry them all. Too bad it's not the 1880's no more!"

We all stared at him open-jawed in disbelief, praying to the powers that be that neither Anita, Annette, nor Annie was in our rankings. After all, we hadn't even done the draft yet! We would need the menu for that.

"So," asked Frank 2, "who's it going to be?"

SHOULD TERRENCE GO OUT WITH ANITA, ANNETTE, OR ANNIE? YOUR VOTE WILL CHANGE TERRENCE'S DESTINY! FRANKLY, I COULD GO WITH ANY OF THEM, THEY WOULD ALL BE EQUALLY FUN TO WRITE ABOUT. BE SURE TO VOTE IN THE COMMENTS AND TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO FIND OUT WHO HE WENT WITH AND HOW THE DATE TURNED OUT! ALL VOTES ACCEPTED, EVEN ANONYMOUS ONES! SO THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR NOT VOTING!

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack!

Budda-du-bup-bah, budda-du-bup-bah, budda-du-bup-bah-budda-da-doo...I'm back in the saddle again!

Think Steven Tyler from Aerosmith belting this out, mouth open like a hippo charging, tongue flapping in the wind. I never liked Aerosmith that much, maybe a few songs here and there, but let's admit to ourselves that all their songs sound the same. It reminds me of the SNL skit where they make fun of them.

I also never got why Aerosmith was portrayed as some superhuman rock band in movies like Wayne's World and what-not. I mean, they had a few hits, but they're no Led Zeppelin or even AC/DC. Any band that has 2 good songs per record is not that great. And how many people do you know that actually love Aerosmith? I know nobody. Not a single solitary sole soul.

ANYWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

As most of my more rabid fans know, I have not been posting or commenting on anybody's blog for about 3 weeks. That is because I do most of that during the daytime hours (read: work), and I have been BUSY BUSY BUSY at work. I know it's irritating when people talk about how much they work, but I'm going to say that these last 3 weeks I have put in 60 hour weeks and that's a lot for me. Now you lawyers and I-bankers can snicker all you want, but I was not built for a 60 hour work week. I was built for a 10 hour week, but apparently you need to work at least 40 hours to get any sort of benefits around here.

On that same subject, don't you think that people always exaggerate how much they work? I know I do. I just told you I worked 3 60-hour work weeks, when it was more like 55, 62, and then 55 again. So I rounded the 2 sub-60 weeks up. I'm betting when people tell you how many hours a week they work they actually take the worst week of the whole year when they worked 80, and tell you that they work that many. So now when people ask me how many hours I have to work I can say 60 a week, even though it was only that one week. In reality, I probably work about 45 a week, 50 during the busy season. That 62 week was a personal record. I also have never had to work on a Saturday or Sunday. I've had to fly on Sundays, and I've come into the office on a Saturday for maybe an hour or two, and maybe I've logged in from home for a couple hours on either day, but I have pretty decent hours. And I don't have to travel much at all. So that's good.

So what to write about? We just came back from Dallas, Mel will write about that (Heaven knows I won't touch the subject-I don't write about happenings. I scoff at happenings). It's too far into the post to start one of my groundbreaking rankings or lists. I've been thinking about writing a Charles Dickens-esque story that will come in weekly installments. But that may be too much of an undertaking. Maybe monthly installments. And Dickens-esque only in the sense that it will be in installments. There will be no Tiny Tim. There will be no Tom Thumb. And there will CERTAINLY be no Tony the Tunisian Turtle. I've had it just about up to here with Quadruple T.

(Yes, I realize that Tom Thumb is not a Dickens character. But neither is Tony the Tunisian Turtle, but you didn't point that one out, did you? It's absurd to think that Dickens wrote about a turtle from Tunisia who wears a bandanna and shades and has a big curvy sword and flies around on a magic carpet, saving beautiful princesses from fiery deaths at the hands of evil gypsy crocodiles. Maybe I WILL write about Quadruple T. This has Disney movie rights written all over it.)

Anyway, I don't know if the installments thing will work out or even happen. But I like to write. And I like to write my posts in my head before I put them out on the World Wide Internets. And yes, that joke will never get old. The one where I call the Internet different things like "Interwebs" and such. Geez.

So everybody check your blogs, I've spent the day catching up and leaving comments as I deemed necessary. And then come back here soon for some rootin'-tootin' fun!