You were probably thinking to yourself today when you clicked on my blog, "I wonder what's going on with Kent and Melanie and Hendrik? We haven't heard from them in a while."
And then you saw the new post. "Great! Now I'll find out what's been going on!"
Brace yourself for disappointment. Nothing about us in here. Just more of my opinions shoved down your throat.
I want to pay a little tribute to an underrated band and an underrated TV show: Cake (the band, not the dessert), and Malcolm in the Middle.
Cake, to me, has always been somewhat of a guilty pleasure for me. They seemed like nothing more than a novelty band, with one quirky hit an album. Even though I bought Fashion Nugget in high school, and enjoyed it immensely, when their next album, Prolonging the Magic, came out, I didn't bother checking it out. No way it was better than Fashion Nugget, I thought. It wasn't.
But it was still good! A few good songs, that, to this day, I still enjoy.
That was it for my Cake days. It would seem that 2 albums chock full of clever lyrics interwoven with toe-tapping bass lines wasn't enough to warrant my loyalty. They weren't worthy of my devotion, instead banished to the cold grip of "Just friends" status. I wasn't sure they could be much more--they seemed too shallow, too flippant, to be considered for a serious relationship.
Then, as I worked at TGI Friday's, a couple songs from their latest album, Comfort Eagle, found their way onto the Friday's playlist. These songs were awesome, so I went out and found someone who owned Comfort Eagle, and had them burn me a copy. I only listened to it a few times through, not really giving all of the songs a chance, only the 2 I heard at Friday's. Then the CD got buried in my Giant Pile o' CDs, now obsolete due to the MP3 format.
I had to dig out my GPOC because I was using Mel's old CD stereo while finishing the basement. This forced me to listen to the CD's the entire way through, as I wasn't going to go wash my filthy hands every 4 minutes to swap out a CD. I then discovered the beauty of Comfort Eagle, and repented. Most of it is now on heavy rotation in my iTunes library, and it's not going anywhere soon.
Here is a small sampling of the subjects of Cake's songs:
1. An Austrian nobleman commissioning a symphony in C
2. A vain opera singer
3. A long line of cars, thanks to you
4. A guitar being chucked out a high-rise window
5. Stick shifts
Malcolm in the Middle is my favorite underrated TV show. I always dismissed it as a kid's show, thinking that it appealed to teenie boppers and adolescents, and I'm not going to stoop to that level. Well, not today, at least.
Then I started catching episodes on FX every so often, usually in the morning as I was getting ready, and I started laughing at some of the episodes. As an avid DVR-er, I'm always looking for something to watch when there's nothing else to watch. Usually a series of some sort, something in syndication or whatever. I usually watch all the episodes and then move on. First it was Scrubs, then Futurama, then This Old House, then Sweat Equity, then House Hunters, then Modern Marvels. As you can see, the last 4 were more or less educational, so I got tired of learning and decided to find something that required less brain. I settled on Malcolm.
The more I watched, the more I realized that each character is more complex than I thought. And I certainly can relate to growing up in a messy house with penny-pinching parents. My favorite characters are the parents, and Hal (the dad) is hilarious. In one episode, Hal has a dialogue with his early adolescent son Dewey, who wants to buy a watch off of the back of the cereal box:
"See, it says 12.99, but that doesn't include the hidden costs. Shipping, handling, box tops, by the time you're through, you're paying on the high side of FIFTEEN dollars. I've never owned a 15 dollar watch."
"But I NEED one, Dad!"
"Son, a cork and a piece of string make a perfectly fine sun-dial. AND, a nice conversation piece with the ladies!"
Then, later, after Dewey comes home complaining he missed the bus because he didn't have a watch, Lois (the mom) retorts, "You wanna know what time it is, Dewey? It's half past a roof over your head, clean clothes and 3 meals a day. THAT'S what time it is!"
Malcolm is a bit Seinfeld-esque (especially in the last seasons, for both shows), because each key character has their own story line that eventually comes together at the end with all the other story lines. It's also a bit Seinfeld-esque in the sense that the first couple of seasons were just not as funny. I watch it and think, "How did this show get renewed after the first season?" I guess it was groundbreaking at the time (still talking about both Seinfeld and Malcolm).
Now, don't get me wrong: there's a reason why these are underrated. Cake is no Pearl Jam, and Malcolm is certainly no Seinfeld. But if you're looking for some alternative tunes to listen to while doing the dishes, then I would recommend Cake. And if you need a new TV show to watch when all of the reruns are rerunning, then DVR Malcolm.
I don't think I've learned my lesson about underrated entertainment. I still don't have the "newest" (2004) Cake album ("eh, it's probably not that good"), and I'm sure I've dismissed a witty TV show or 2 without a chance (like Sealab, for example--is that still on TV, Kurt? Was it ever?). But maybe I'm just saving those things for 10 years from now, when I need some different but familiar tunes, or a new TV show to DVR.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Why Girls Need Girlfriends
Girls need girlfriends because their husbands just don't cut it. Not in a bad way, they can be AWESOME husbands, but they just aren't able to fill the girlfriend void. We want to be best friends with our spouses and tell them EVERYTHING, but the reality is that while we don't keep secrets we don't have to try and discuss every topic with them.
During our first year of marriage I learned a lot about talking to a boy vs talking to a girl. BIG difference. I love Kent. I can talk to him about anything. Whether or not he enjoys the conversation is another story. So I learned quickly that he didn't want the gossipy, juicy details about my day at work, a simple grunt and "ok" would be a perfect answer to his, "How was your day?"
There was one particular instance that really defined this "girlfriend" thing for me. I was talking to Kent about some other girl I knew (and liked, maybe even loved), but I was conveying a truth that was perhaps unkind. I even prefaced the comment with, "I know this is so mean, but..." and finished up with an "I should feel bad for saying that." Now, ladies, we all know that whenever someone finishes like that it is our job as the listener to promptly follow up with an "I know, but the truth hurts sometimes" or an "I know, but you have to be honest with yourself." You know, something that makes the other person feel like less of a jerk. Here is what Kent responded with:
"Wow Mel, that is mean. You probably should feel bad."
Uhhh....
To which I responded, "Kent, you're not a very good girlfriend." He didn't understand what I meant, but of course he didn't! He has no experience as a girlfriend! But moments like that have taught me to save certain comments/conversations for my girlfriends and not my best friend of a husband.
One other key difference is that girls like to get together. We like to hang out and talk, possibly for hours. Whenever I come home from hanging out with my friend Lauren, or really any girlfriend, the following conversation almost always takes place:
Kent: What did you guys do?
Mel: Hung out, talked.
K: Talked? For 2 hours? About what?
The answer is anything and everything, my friend.
One thing I love is how womens' conversations just flow from one subject to the next. Topics that don't seem related when listed out individually somehow find themselves side-by-side in a girl's conversation. Have you ever caught yourself in the middle of a conversation and wondered, "How did we get on this topic?" I've actually attempted to trace my way back through the conversation to the beginning - try it sometime, it's fun. It's really no wonder why men look so confused if they are ever stuck surrounded by Chatty Cathys - they can't follow the train of thought.
And finally, I need girlfriends because they are just as crazy as I am. Girls, embrace it. We women are crazy. It's just how we're built. That's why we need Girls Night Out or Ladies Who Lunch. After you've been spending lots of quality time with your main man, who is logical, unemotional, and simple, you start to feel really ridiculous. Like maybe you are the craziest person in the world. So then you turn to your lady friends, spend a little time with the girls, and you realize, "I'm not crazy, I'm normal!" And then you can make it through another week without ripping your poor, loving husband's head off.
During our first year of marriage I learned a lot about talking to a boy vs talking to a girl. BIG difference. I love Kent. I can talk to him about anything. Whether or not he enjoys the conversation is another story. So I learned quickly that he didn't want the gossipy, juicy details about my day at work, a simple grunt and "ok" would be a perfect answer to his, "How was your day?"
There was one particular instance that really defined this "girlfriend" thing for me. I was talking to Kent about some other girl I knew (and liked, maybe even loved), but I was conveying a truth that was perhaps unkind. I even prefaced the comment with, "I know this is so mean, but..." and finished up with an "I should feel bad for saying that." Now, ladies, we all know that whenever someone finishes like that it is our job as the listener to promptly follow up with an "I know, but the truth hurts sometimes" or an "I know, but you have to be honest with yourself." You know, something that makes the other person feel like less of a jerk. Here is what Kent responded with:
"Wow Mel, that is mean. You probably should feel bad."
Uhhh....
To which I responded, "Kent, you're not a very good girlfriend." He didn't understand what I meant, but of course he didn't! He has no experience as a girlfriend! But moments like that have taught me to save certain comments/conversations for my girlfriends and not my best friend of a husband.
One other key difference is that girls like to get together. We like to hang out and talk, possibly for hours. Whenever I come home from hanging out with my friend Lauren, or really any girlfriend, the following conversation almost always takes place:
Kent: What did you guys do?
Mel: Hung out, talked.
K: Talked? For 2 hours? About what?
The answer is anything and everything, my friend.
One thing I love is how womens' conversations just flow from one subject to the next. Topics that don't seem related when listed out individually somehow find themselves side-by-side in a girl's conversation. Have you ever caught yourself in the middle of a conversation and wondered, "How did we get on this topic?" I've actually attempted to trace my way back through the conversation to the beginning - try it sometime, it's fun. It's really no wonder why men look so confused if they are ever stuck surrounded by Chatty Cathys - they can't follow the train of thought.
And finally, I need girlfriends because they are just as crazy as I am. Girls, embrace it. We women are crazy. It's just how we're built. That's why we need Girls Night Out or Ladies Who Lunch. After you've been spending lots of quality time with your main man, who is logical, unemotional, and simple, you start to feel really ridiculous. Like maybe you are the craziest person in the world. So then you turn to your lady friends, spend a little time with the girls, and you realize, "I'm not crazy, I'm normal!" And then you can make it through another week without ripping your poor, loving husband's head off.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Junior High Kent
There's nothing funnier to me than thinking of how I used to be. 5-year old Kent was funny. 10-year-old Kent was even funnier. But they've got nothing on Junior High Kent.
When I arrived at Canyon View in the 7th grade, I was still in my elementary mindset. I had my worn out t-shirts, faded terry cloth shorts with holes in them, dorky H.I.S. jeans, etc. I didn't care how I looked in elementary school. I usually wore my soccer jersey on game days, and when I was younger, my cub scout shirt on den meeting days.
I shared a locker with the super popular Shawn Hansen, who expected me to go halfsies on a $2.50 locker room shelf when my yearly income was $10.00, $9.00 after taxes and tithing. Shawn had a sleek black Polo shirt (an actual Ralph Lauren) tucked into his awesome Girbaud jeans, complimented by a nice bowl haircut, parted neatly down the middle (the infamous "butt-crack" haircut that I eventually had until halfway through my mission). Somehow he had tons of friends already, even some that were girls, when all my elementary friends had somehow disappeared.
I deduced that his fashion sense was the reason for his success. I started looking around, paying attention to what everybody was wearing: Jean shorts were the biggest thing, and if you were especially rich, you had Girbaud jean shorts, long enough to roll up a few notches. Most of the kids wore polo shirts, or some kind of collared shirt that was always tucked in. If you wore a t-shirt, it'd better be a Mossimo, No Fear, or Big Johnson. Everybody that was anybody had a Jansport backpack, and the rich kids could afford the ones with the leather bottoms. If you didn't have a Jansport, then you'd better not show your face around with a no-name brand of backpack. The only acceptable shoes at the time had swooshes.
I consulted my wardrobe, and discovered that I was seriously lacking. 7th grade Kent had accumulated NOTHING, and I was totally unprepared. I asked a popular kid in my ward, JR Cook, how I could be popular:
"You don't have to buy $100 Girbaud jeans. You can probably just get some cheap $50 Lucky jeans at The Copper Rivet."
Oh. Just $50. Let me check my budget...
Since I didn't have the scrilla for the duds, I had to beg Mom to take me to the mall. Of course, we didn't go to any of the cool, small, trendy shops, we didn't even make it past Mervyn's, where the brand in our budget was Cheetah. So we got one pair of jean shorts and one pair of khaki shorts. We then spent about 8 bucks on a black polo shirt. I begged my mom to get the longer pair of jean shorts to leave room for the roll-up, but she balked at the idea: "You don't need shorts that stretch to your calves!"
I wore the polo shirt the next day, tucked in neatly to my khaki shorts, and, to my great disbelief, a popular girl in my English class said, "You look nice today, Kent." Which, when heard by a hormone-driven 7th grade boy, is roughly translated to: "I have a GIANT crush on you, Kent, and so does every other girl in this school!"
Nice!
Propelled by the adrenalin from the self-esteem boost, I knew I couldn't show up the next day in my crappy old clothes, and I also couldn't wear the same ones. No way Susan was taking me back to Mervyn's (or, as she called it, "Mervyll's") again. So I panicked, and ransacked my house, looking for clothes that would potentially get me another compliment. The best I could do was a red polo shirt that I stole from my older sister JoEllen's closet. The buttons were on the wrong side, but who cares? They went perfectly with my jean shorts. I could even get a tiny roll-up if I wore them a few centimeters low on my waist.
The next day came and went with no compliments from anybody, which, when analyzed by a hormone-driven 7th grade boy, roughly means: "You are the ugliest kid in the school, and we'd prefer if you never showed your face around here again."
Compliments became a drug that I depended on. And not those superficial compliments like "You're good at math" or "You're a nice person with a good heart". I KNOW I'm good at math and that I'm a great person!! How is that going to help me land Jolene Shaw, the pretty 8th grade brunette in my Algebra class?! I needed real, juicy compliments like "I like your shoes" or "Nice shirt". Jolene will notice how good-looking I am and follow me around school. She will know that she can see me near the vending machines after 1st period as I walk to 2nd period, and also remember that she can see me outside the gym after 5th period.
One of the hardest things to learn was how to do my hair. All through elementary school, I barely even touched my hair, let alone run a comb through it. Now all I cared about was my hair. The cool kids had the bowl haircuts, combed so it was right down the middle, perfectly straight the whole way. My hair is naturally wavy, so I couldn't get it to go straight without hair spray or gel. The problem with that was that P.E. was 1st period for me, so after the mandatory showers, I had to do my hair with no hair spray or gel. I wasn't about to ask Mom for my own personal thing of gel, so I went into their bathroom with a sandwich bag and filled it with gel. I kept this little baggie of gel hidden in my P.E. locker, but my archnemisis Kyle Clindt (more on him later) saw it and mocked me in front of the whole class.
"Kent has a bag of goop in his locker that he puts in his hair! What is it even?!?! Is it [not suitable for reading on a family blog]? Or is it [unmentionable]? Gross!!!"
I hated that kid. He was the fat jerky kid that somehow was popular because of his clothes and his obscene languages and vulgar jokes. He's one of the popular kids that is probably still holding on to his Junior High glory days because he dropped out of high school. I'm much better than that. I hold on to my Junior High glory days because they were so hilarious. Although I found his profile on Facebook and he's a Colts fan, so I guess I can forgive him.
That year's Christmas was a gold mine. I begged Mom for all sorts of clothes, and she got me some very nice collared shirts. One was this Arrow-brand collared shirt that became my go-to shirt. It went nicely with the royal blue-dyed High Sierra jeans I begged for (colored jeans were all the rage-denim jeans were dorky, unless they were jean shorts). I wore it as much as I could without being conspicuous about it, sometimes every other day. Then one day, Kyle Clindt observed mockingly, "Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?"
"What?!?! This shirt?!?! NO!! I've never worn this shirt twice in a row. Plus, I have 2 of them! No, 3!"
The jig was up. I could never wear the same clothes in the same week again! I started keeping a wardrobe calendar to keep track of what I wore. At the beginning, I only had enough "cool" clothes to last a week, but my birthday was coming up, and that just meant a whole lot more begging!
I got a lot more clothes, but as my dependency on clothes became stronger, I became more particular about clothes. One item my mom refused to buy were the baggy jeans, which were becoming all the rage. So one day I tried on a pair of my dad's jeans, a khaki shaded pair of Bass brand jeans. They were size 36 waist. I was about 5'3" at the time, and 30" waists were big on me. But if I didn't tuck in my shirt, nobody would notice the bunched up belt loops around my waist. Plus I had plenty of room to roll up the legs.
8th grade was much better than 7th grade. Now that I had a decent wardrobe, I only needed to add a few things here and there, and before I knew it, I had 2 weeks' worth of clothes (I still kept my calendar). I also got a few odd jobs here and there, and saved up money to buy my own clothes. First purchase: A snow-white pair of Levi's 501 jeans (button-fly). This was clutch, because the girl I was in love with this year was Julie Hocking, and I was sure she had a thing for white jeans. In fact, one day I noticed that inside my blue English folder, the class that Julie shared with me, there was written in girl's handwriting:
"Kent is the cutest boy in the 8th grade, all the girls LOVE him!"
No way! I mean, I kind of saw it coming, what with my incredible sense of fashion, but wow! Who did it? Was it Julie herself? Or was it her annoying friend Lindsey who was the only girl in the class who talked to me? For weeks, I was perplexed at who had written that. I tried to sneak peeks at Julie's handwriting to analyze. I mean, come on, I caught her looking at me a few times, there's NO WAY she wasn't into me.
Then, one day at home, my sister JoEllen, the same one that pointed out each and every zit on my forehead, asked me: "Have you seen the note I left in your folder?"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Talk about destroying all of my dreams. She could've just kept quiet and I wouldn't have struggled with my self-esteem all year. Oh, who am I kidding? All 8th graders struggle with their self-esteem.
I never did talk to Julie, nor Jolene, my 7th grade crush. So when I started 9th grade, I was determined to do something about my new crush, Katie Heward. She was this hot new girl in my 3rd period history class, and I couldn't stop dreaming about her. 9th grade I think is the most obsessive of all grades, I'm not really sure why, but I was totally in love with Katie. I would hatch up these fantasies of us meeting in random places, and her totally falling for me, and we'd ride off into the sunset. These fantasies were not unlike the ones I'd had for Julie and Jolene, but with Katie it was different, because I was determined to do something about it.
The worst part about my crush with Katie is that she sat RIGHT NEXT to me. Like 3 feet away. And I COULDN'T TALK TO HER! I'd never, ever, talked to a girl I liked, and I didn't know how to do it. I figured she would be so amazed by my good looks and bad boy image (which I was working DARNED hard on), that she would be overcome and just surrender her love to me. Surprisingly, this didn't happen.
So I went with plan B: talk to her friends. However, I didn't know any of her friends. I mean, I knew who they were, for crying out loud, I knew EVERYTHING about Katie that I could possibly find out (don't pretend like you weren't as obsessive about your Junior High crushes). But I couldn't talk to them, so I had to talk to someone who knew them. Because of my bad-boy image I was trying to maintain, I got sent to PASS (Positive Alternative to School Suspension) quite often, and the PASS lady, Robin, was this 20 year old college girl who was more interested in hanging out with 9th graders than disciplining them. Me and my friends took full advantage of Robin, and got sent to PASS as often as possible. Robin knew that I loved Katie, so she schemed up a plan to get Katie sent to PASS. Once this happened, Robin sent me to PASS to tell me about their convo:
Robin: So, Katie Heward and her friends were in PASS today.
Me: Keep talking...
Robin: I asked them what they thought about Kent Hansen.
Me: Tell me more, tell me more!
Robin: They said you were "totally cute".
SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!
Me: Okay! Alright! Here we go!
Robin: So I said that you totally had a crush on Katie, and were going to the Christmas dance on Saturday, and you could meet then.
That was on December 14, 1994. Why do I remember this date? Cause I went sledding with my friends at Rock Canyon park and I broke my arm after going way too fast over a jump, and landed right on my wrist. I stayed at home for the next week, missing the dance, missing my only chance at true love.
I was desperate to unite with my princess, so I did everything I could to find out where she was going to be on New Year's Eve. I went over to her stake dance a few blocks away, but she wasn't there. My buddies found out she was at her friend Jessica's house, so we invited ourselves over there. Jessica opened the door to about 5 of us, and let us into the living room. Our older and cooler friend Logan did all the talking as I tried to figure out where Katie was. There was lots of girls laughing in the kitchen, but a wall separated me and my lover. It wasn't to be, apparently, as Jessica said that "we're in the middle of a game" and "boys aren't allowed". Don't you mean that "Men aren't allowed"? We told her that we'd be at the stake dance so we went back. I spent the rest of the dance staring at the doors waiting for Katie to arrive, but she never did.
I never did end up even so much as talking to Katie, but every time I saw her in the halls after that, I knew she was thinking, "It's too bad he broke his arm, because we'd have been married by now!" Or maybe not. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to ever talk to her or make an actual move on her. Don't worry-that didn't stop me from stalking her for the next few years.
And that's why Junior High Kent makes All Growed-up Kent laugh.
Note: I slightly changed everybody's names in this post so they can't Google themselves and find this. Also, I've found out since then that my one true love was Mullanie McKindondale.
When I arrived at Canyon View in the 7th grade, I was still in my elementary mindset. I had my worn out t-shirts, faded terry cloth shorts with holes in them, dorky H.I.S. jeans, etc. I didn't care how I looked in elementary school. I usually wore my soccer jersey on game days, and when I was younger, my cub scout shirt on den meeting days.
I shared a locker with the super popular Shawn Hansen, who expected me to go halfsies on a $2.50 locker room shelf when my yearly income was $10.00, $9.00 after taxes and tithing. Shawn had a sleek black Polo shirt (an actual Ralph Lauren) tucked into his awesome Girbaud jeans, complimented by a nice bowl haircut, parted neatly down the middle (the infamous "butt-crack" haircut that I eventually had until halfway through my mission). Somehow he had tons of friends already, even some that were girls, when all my elementary friends had somehow disappeared.
I deduced that his fashion sense was the reason for his success. I started looking around, paying attention to what everybody was wearing: Jean shorts were the biggest thing, and if you were especially rich, you had Girbaud jean shorts, long enough to roll up a few notches. Most of the kids wore polo shirts, or some kind of collared shirt that was always tucked in. If you wore a t-shirt, it'd better be a Mossimo, No Fear, or Big Johnson. Everybody that was anybody had a Jansport backpack, and the rich kids could afford the ones with the leather bottoms. If you didn't have a Jansport, then you'd better not show your face around with a no-name brand of backpack. The only acceptable shoes at the time had swooshes.
I consulted my wardrobe, and discovered that I was seriously lacking. 7th grade Kent had accumulated NOTHING, and I was totally unprepared. I asked a popular kid in my ward, JR Cook, how I could be popular:
"You don't have to buy $100 Girbaud jeans. You can probably just get some cheap $50 Lucky jeans at The Copper Rivet."
Oh. Just $50. Let me check my budget...
Since I didn't have the scrilla for the duds, I had to beg Mom to take me to the mall. Of course, we didn't go to any of the cool, small, trendy shops, we didn't even make it past Mervyn's, where the brand in our budget was Cheetah. So we got one pair of jean shorts and one pair of khaki shorts. We then spent about 8 bucks on a black polo shirt. I begged my mom to get the longer pair of jean shorts to leave room for the roll-up, but she balked at the idea: "You don't need shorts that stretch to your calves!"
I wore the polo shirt the next day, tucked in neatly to my khaki shorts, and, to my great disbelief, a popular girl in my English class said, "You look nice today, Kent." Which, when heard by a hormone-driven 7th grade boy, is roughly translated to: "I have a GIANT crush on you, Kent, and so does every other girl in this school!"
Nice!
Propelled by the adrenalin from the self-esteem boost, I knew I couldn't show up the next day in my crappy old clothes, and I also couldn't wear the same ones. No way Susan was taking me back to Mervyn's (or, as she called it, "Mervyll's") again. So I panicked, and ransacked my house, looking for clothes that would potentially get me another compliment. The best I could do was a red polo shirt that I stole from my older sister JoEllen's closet. The buttons were on the wrong side, but who cares? They went perfectly with my jean shorts. I could even get a tiny roll-up if I wore them a few centimeters low on my waist.
The next day came and went with no compliments from anybody, which, when analyzed by a hormone-driven 7th grade boy, roughly means: "You are the ugliest kid in the school, and we'd prefer if you never showed your face around here again."
Compliments became a drug that I depended on. And not those superficial compliments like "You're good at math" or "You're a nice person with a good heart". I KNOW I'm good at math and that I'm a great person!! How is that going to help me land Jolene Shaw, the pretty 8th grade brunette in my Algebra class?! I needed real, juicy compliments like "I like your shoes" or "Nice shirt". Jolene will notice how good-looking I am and follow me around school. She will know that she can see me near the vending machines after 1st period as I walk to 2nd period, and also remember that she can see me outside the gym after 5th period.
One of the hardest things to learn was how to do my hair. All through elementary school, I barely even touched my hair, let alone run a comb through it. Now all I cared about was my hair. The cool kids had the bowl haircuts, combed so it was right down the middle, perfectly straight the whole way. My hair is naturally wavy, so I couldn't get it to go straight without hair spray or gel. The problem with that was that P.E. was 1st period for me, so after the mandatory showers, I had to do my hair with no hair spray or gel. I wasn't about to ask Mom for my own personal thing of gel, so I went into their bathroom with a sandwich bag and filled it with gel. I kept this little baggie of gel hidden in my P.E. locker, but my archnemisis Kyle Clindt (more on him later) saw it and mocked me in front of the whole class.
"Kent has a bag of goop in his locker that he puts in his hair! What is it even?!?! Is it [not suitable for reading on a family blog]? Or is it [unmentionable]? Gross!!!"
I hated that kid. He was the fat jerky kid that somehow was popular because of his clothes and his obscene languages and vulgar jokes. He's one of the popular kids that is probably still holding on to his Junior High glory days because he dropped out of high school. I'm much better than that. I hold on to my Junior High glory days because they were so hilarious. Although I found his profile on Facebook and he's a Colts fan, so I guess I can forgive him.
That year's Christmas was a gold mine. I begged Mom for all sorts of clothes, and she got me some very nice collared shirts. One was this Arrow-brand collared shirt that became my go-to shirt. It went nicely with the royal blue-dyed High Sierra jeans I begged for (colored jeans were all the rage-denim jeans were dorky, unless they were jean shorts). I wore it as much as I could without being conspicuous about it, sometimes every other day. Then one day, Kyle Clindt observed mockingly, "Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?"
"What?!?! This shirt?!?! NO!! I've never worn this shirt twice in a row. Plus, I have 2 of them! No, 3!"
The jig was up. I could never wear the same clothes in the same week again! I started keeping a wardrobe calendar to keep track of what I wore. At the beginning, I only had enough "cool" clothes to last a week, but my birthday was coming up, and that just meant a whole lot more begging!
I got a lot more clothes, but as my dependency on clothes became stronger, I became more particular about clothes. One item my mom refused to buy were the baggy jeans, which were becoming all the rage. So one day I tried on a pair of my dad's jeans, a khaki shaded pair of Bass brand jeans. They were size 36 waist. I was about 5'3" at the time, and 30" waists were big on me. But if I didn't tuck in my shirt, nobody would notice the bunched up belt loops around my waist. Plus I had plenty of room to roll up the legs.
8th grade was much better than 7th grade. Now that I had a decent wardrobe, I only needed to add a few things here and there, and before I knew it, I had 2 weeks' worth of clothes (I still kept my calendar). I also got a few odd jobs here and there, and saved up money to buy my own clothes. First purchase: A snow-white pair of Levi's 501 jeans (button-fly). This was clutch, because the girl I was in love with this year was Julie Hocking, and I was sure she had a thing for white jeans. In fact, one day I noticed that inside my blue English folder, the class that Julie shared with me, there was written in girl's handwriting:
"Kent is the cutest boy in the 8th grade, all the girls LOVE him!"
No way! I mean, I kind of saw it coming, what with my incredible sense of fashion, but wow! Who did it? Was it Julie herself? Or was it her annoying friend Lindsey who was the only girl in the class who talked to me? For weeks, I was perplexed at who had written that. I tried to sneak peeks at Julie's handwriting to analyze. I mean, come on, I caught her looking at me a few times, there's NO WAY she wasn't into me.
Then, one day at home, my sister JoEllen, the same one that pointed out each and every zit on my forehead, asked me: "Have you seen the note I left in your folder?"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Talk about destroying all of my dreams. She could've just kept quiet and I wouldn't have struggled with my self-esteem all year. Oh, who am I kidding? All 8th graders struggle with their self-esteem.
I never did talk to Julie, nor Jolene, my 7th grade crush. So when I started 9th grade, I was determined to do something about my new crush, Katie Heward. She was this hot new girl in my 3rd period history class, and I couldn't stop dreaming about her. 9th grade I think is the most obsessive of all grades, I'm not really sure why, but I was totally in love with Katie. I would hatch up these fantasies of us meeting in random places, and her totally falling for me, and we'd ride off into the sunset. These fantasies were not unlike the ones I'd had for Julie and Jolene, but with Katie it was different, because I was determined to do something about it.
The worst part about my crush with Katie is that she sat RIGHT NEXT to me. Like 3 feet away. And I COULDN'T TALK TO HER! I'd never, ever, talked to a girl I liked, and I didn't know how to do it. I figured she would be so amazed by my good looks and bad boy image (which I was working DARNED hard on), that she would be overcome and just surrender her love to me. Surprisingly, this didn't happen.
So I went with plan B: talk to her friends. However, I didn't know any of her friends. I mean, I knew who they were, for crying out loud, I knew EVERYTHING about Katie that I could possibly find out (don't pretend like you weren't as obsessive about your Junior High crushes). But I couldn't talk to them, so I had to talk to someone who knew them. Because of my bad-boy image I was trying to maintain, I got sent to PASS (Positive Alternative to School Suspension) quite often, and the PASS lady, Robin, was this 20 year old college girl who was more interested in hanging out with 9th graders than disciplining them. Me and my friends took full advantage of Robin, and got sent to PASS as often as possible. Robin knew that I loved Katie, so she schemed up a plan to get Katie sent to PASS. Once this happened, Robin sent me to PASS to tell me about their convo:
Robin: So, Katie Heward and her friends were in PASS today.
Me: Keep talking...
Robin: I asked them what they thought about Kent Hansen.
Me: Tell me more, tell me more!
Robin: They said you were "totally cute".
SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!
Me: Okay! Alright! Here we go!
Robin: So I said that you totally had a crush on Katie, and were going to the Christmas dance on Saturday, and you could meet then.
That was on December 14, 1994. Why do I remember this date? Cause I went sledding with my friends at Rock Canyon park and I broke my arm after going way too fast over a jump, and landed right on my wrist. I stayed at home for the next week, missing the dance, missing my only chance at true love.
I was desperate to unite with my princess, so I did everything I could to find out where she was going to be on New Year's Eve. I went over to her stake dance a few blocks away, but she wasn't there. My buddies found out she was at her friend Jessica's house, so we invited ourselves over there. Jessica opened the door to about 5 of us, and let us into the living room. Our older and cooler friend Logan did all the talking as I tried to figure out where Katie was. There was lots of girls laughing in the kitchen, but a wall separated me and my lover. It wasn't to be, apparently, as Jessica said that "we're in the middle of a game" and "boys aren't allowed". Don't you mean that "Men aren't allowed"? We told her that we'd be at the stake dance so we went back. I spent the rest of the dance staring at the doors waiting for Katie to arrive, but she never did.
I never did end up even so much as talking to Katie, but every time I saw her in the halls after that, I knew she was thinking, "It's too bad he broke his arm, because we'd have been married by now!" Or maybe not. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to ever talk to her or make an actual move on her. Don't worry-that didn't stop me from stalking her for the next few years.
And that's why Junior High Kent makes All Growed-up Kent laugh.
Note: I slightly changed everybody's names in this post so they can't Google themselves and find this. Also, I've found out since then that my one true love was Mullanie McKindondale.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Hendrik update
It's been a while since I've posted, but I have work to blame for that. I have about 4 half-written posts in my queue that I just can't seem to get around to...including a Terrence. In the meantime, some nice folks in our ward offered to take some Hendrik pictures for us, and you lucky buggers get a small sampling.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Put It To a Vote
Who do you think Hendrik looks like?
OR
Kent:
He's the one in the bouncy seat, and I'm pretty sure he didn't have lazy eyes as a baby...
He's the one in the bouncy seat, and I'm pretty sure he didn't have lazy eyes as a baby...
OR
Melanie:
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Adventures In Babysitting
Now that Hendrik is in his second month of life I feel like we are starting to get into the groove of this whole "baby" thing. We still have very lazy days where I feel like the 2 of us lay around on the couch all day while Kent slaves away at work. However, so far this week I have had 2 1/2 fairly productive days so I'm giving myself (and Hendrik) a pat on the back.
Anyway, Kent has been nagging me about posting on the blog, but I just feel like I don't have anything interesting to post about. Then I read this blog and feel so lame because no matter what Vanessa writes about, it's hilarious or at least interesting to read. Seriously, she could write about hanging Christmas lights and it would be the greatest thing ever.
Speaking of which, we are about to celebrate our first Christmas in our house. Remember: last year we were enjoying 85 degree days in Thailand/Cambodia. Since we'll be here we decided to decorate a little bit. And I do mean a little. See the photo for evidence. Go ahead and guess which side is ours...Our neighbors take holiday decorating seriously. It was the same at Halloween.
We'll go ahead and have a Merry Christmas anyway.
And now a few highlights of the adventures I have with Hendrik:
1. I braved an airplane ride alone with my 5 week old son. I especially loved taking him out of his car seat, folding up the stroller, taking off my shoes and pushing it all through the security x-ray all while holding said baby. I also enjoyed the looks of "Oh, please tell me that lady and her crying baby are not on my flight" from the other passengers waiting at the gate. Eat it people. My baby slept the whole way, both directions, and is ALWAYS adorable. Hendrik and I were traveling to Maryland to visit his cousin Sophia who is 2 days younger than he is. Oh and he also saw his Aunt Christy, Uncle Jonathan, and all of his cousins on my side of the family.
Sophia is not as impressed with Hendrik's smiles as I am.
Uncle Jonathan (my brother) and his daughter, Debbie. His son, Gabriel, was running around with his friends and I wasn't able to capture a picture.
Anyway, Kent has been nagging me about posting on the blog, but I just feel like I don't have anything interesting to post about. Then I read this blog and feel so lame because no matter what Vanessa writes about, it's hilarious or at least interesting to read. Seriously, she could write about hanging Christmas lights and it would be the greatest thing ever.
Speaking of which, we are about to celebrate our first Christmas in our house. Remember: last year we were enjoying 85 degree days in Thailand/Cambodia. Since we'll be here we decided to decorate a little bit. And I do mean a little. See the photo for evidence. Go ahead and guess which side is ours...Our neighbors take holiday decorating seriously. It was the same at Halloween.
We'll go ahead and have a Merry Christmas anyway.
And now a few highlights of the adventures I have with Hendrik:
1. I braved an airplane ride alone with my 5 week old son. I especially loved taking him out of his car seat, folding up the stroller, taking off my shoes and pushing it all through the security x-ray all while holding said baby. I also enjoyed the looks of "Oh, please tell me that lady and her crying baby are not on my flight" from the other passengers waiting at the gate. Eat it people. My baby slept the whole way, both directions, and is ALWAYS adorable. Hendrik and I were traveling to Maryland to visit his cousin Sophia who is 2 days younger than he is. Oh and he also saw his Aunt Christy, Uncle Jonathan, and all of his cousins on my side of the family.
Sophia is not as impressed with Hendrik's smiles as I am.
Uncle Jonathan (my brother) and his daughter, Debbie. His son, Gabriel, was running around with his friends and I wasn't able to capture a picture.2. I had my 6-week follow up with my doctor and we decided to swing by my office to say hello while we were there (I work right next door to the hospital). Now, when I was pregnant I kept waiting for crazy strangers to try and touch my belly, and luckily it never happened. Now that I actually have the baby, I've been waiting for the crazy strangers to touch/hold him. While he gets lots of oohs and aahs from everyone he passes, no one has tried to actually hold him yet. To the population at large: Thank You. I appreciate your admiration and constraint. However, as we were walking through the hallway toward my office, this lady is approaching us from the opposite direction and calls out, "What a beautiful baby." Two thoughts run through my mind: "Thank you very much, he is quite fabulous" and "Can you even see him from that far away?" Not to worry, as she gets closer and I notice she has a big bandaid over one eye with a hole cut out of it so that she can see (read: CRAZY LOOKING), she says, "May I look at him?" So I say sure, and turn him towards her so that she can look. Then she precedes to hold her hands out and ask my 6 week old if he wants to come to her. Lady, he barely holds his own neck up and you think he can gesture to indicate whom he would like to be held by? Oh yeah, and you're a complete stranger, in a hospital no less, during flu season, but yes, please hold my baby. I just politely turned Hendrik away from her, mumbled no, and bee lined for the end of the hallway. Strangers: Please don't ask to hold my baby. I don't know you. I will have to say no. And I may not be polite about it. It really depends on the day. Basically don't make me be mean to you.
Visiting Auntie Sherri at the office, she's not the crazy lady, we love her.
Visiting Auntie Sherri at the office, she's not the crazy lady, we love her.3. I have realized that shopping during the weekdays puts you out there with all the senior citizen shoppers. Now, I love my seniors as much as the next guy, but they definitely have their quirks. Take today for instance. Being a productive day, Hendrik and I headed out for a little shopping, stopping first at Costco. By the time we got there, I knew I had a half hour before he would need to be fed again, so I shopped as quickly as I could, sticking mainly to my list of items. I was pretty successful and decided that instead of subjecting all the other Costco shoppers to my nursing in the food court area, I would just feed him out in the car. So there I was, minding my own business, nursing my son when I see this little old lady walking up to the driver-side window. Here's how it played out:
Little Old Lady: (knocking on the window) Can you move your car back a little bit?
Me: What?
LOL: I need you to move your car back a little bit. I'm in the space in front of you and I need to move up a little more. Can you do that?
Me: (as I look down at the covered bundle currently enjoying lunch on my lap) Uh...
LOL: What? Can you? You're over the line.
Me: (again glance down) Uh...yeah...I guess so.
LOL: WHAT? (because I've refused to roll down my window and let the 20 degree air in)
Oh, do you have a baby in there?
Me: Yes
LOL: Oh, well, sorry. So can you still move back?
Lady, seriously? The best part is that she had me move back about 3 inches. What did that really do? Not to mention she had already parked her car and turned off the ignition before asking me to move. So we both had to start up our cars just so she could have her Toyota Camry parked in the spot the way she wanted it. I would also like to note that when I had originally parked there was already a car in that spot and they didn't seem to have any issues hanging out a few inches.
Whatever.
On a more positive note:
Our little Teddy Bear bundled up to go pick out a Christmas tree.
With his "token" friend.
Little Old Lady: (knocking on the window) Can you move your car back a little bit?
Me: What?
LOL: I need you to move your car back a little bit. I'm in the space in front of you and I need to move up a little more. Can you do that?
Me: (as I look down at the covered bundle currently enjoying lunch on my lap) Uh...
LOL: What? Can you? You're over the line.
Me: (again glance down) Uh...yeah...I guess so.
LOL: WHAT? (because I've refused to roll down my window and let the 20 degree air in)
Oh, do you have a baby in there?
Me: Yes
LOL: Oh, well, sorry. So can you still move back?
Lady, seriously? The best part is that she had me move back about 3 inches. What did that really do? Not to mention she had already parked her car and turned off the ignition before asking me to move. So we both had to start up our cars just so she could have her Toyota Camry parked in the spot the way she wanted it. I would also like to note that when I had originally parked there was already a car in that spot and they didn't seem to have any issues hanging out a few inches.
Whatever.
On a more positive note:
Our little Teddy Bear bundled up to go pick out a Christmas tree.
With his "token" friend.Monday, December 7, 2009
Something's GOT to change
I have been considering my relationships to sports and how much time and emotional energy I spend on it. I mean, every year I follow my favorite team and inevitably get disappointed when they don't win it all, which they've only done twice (Cards in '06, Colts a few months later). Was the euphoria from winning it all greater than the sum of all my disappointment? Not even close. So why should I follow sports?
Well, I've realized that it's fun to care about sports. The more things you care about, the more exciting your life is, the more you have to talk about. I don't limit my caring to just sports, I care about important things (family, friends, church, God) and not-so-important things (TV shows, music, gardening, sports). I've realized that apathy is not for me. I liked to consider myself a laid-back person, but does it bug me when my plants die? Yes. Does it bother me when my favorite artist has a disappointing album? Yes. Do I hang onto these things for days, weeks, or months? No.
So I've decided that, yes, it is worth the time and emotional investment to watch sports. Plus, since I have DVR, I don't need to plan my life around watching sports. I watch it when it's on, and if I care enough about it, I'll record it and watch it at my convenience later (usually when I'm holding The Boy).
I also don't understand why anybody would watch sports without caring one way or the other about who wins. What's the point? It's like watching American Idol for the quality karaoke. You don't care about the singing (unless it's atrocious), you care about the winning. In our leisure, we want to watch anything that entertains us more than a substitute activity. To me, that's sports.
That's why college football bothers me so much. A playoff has so much potential! Take March Madness, put it into 3 jam-packed Saturdays, and think about how much entertainment that is! Plus, the timing couldn't be better. You've taken a couple weeks off of work for the holidays, so there's plenty of time to watch football.
Instead, we have 40 meaningless game and one "meaningful" game, although we're never really sure if that game has the right teams in it. As a BYU fan, I barely care about our bowl game, another boring Las Vegas bowl. Even if BYU wasn't in the playoffs, I would find all of the playoff games more interesting than BYU playing the 9th best team in the PAC-10.
Who really wants that? It's getting ridiculous. How can something this unpopular go unchanged for this long? I thought we lived in a capitalist society, where the majority gets what the majority wants?
If we had playoffs this year, how great would the match-ups be? Now, from all playoff scenarios I've heard or read about, I think the best, most-likely one would be the one found here. Although I would prefer 12 or 16 teams, I would settle for 8. Beggars can't be choosers. What I like most about this is that each conference would only be allowed one representative. Say what you will, but frankly, if you're not the champion of your own conference, then you shouldn't be the champion of the nation. The next 2 spots would go to the highest ranked non-BCS conference champions, or an Independent ranked higher. Even though this is still not completely fair, it's a step in the right direction. The difficult thing is getting rid of the pointless bowl games. Once that's done, changing it to 12 or 16 teams will be much easier.
Using that format, what would we have (using the BCS poll)?
1. Bama vs Ga Tech
2. Texas vs Ohio St
3. Cincy vs Oregon
4. TCU vs Boise
Although TCU still plays Boise St (a matchup that nobody wanted except the BCS conferences-do you realize that the only ranked team from a BCS conf that's playing a non-BCS team is Oregon St? More on this below...) at least the winner would go on to the 2nd round to play a BCS team in either Bama or Ga Tech.
But look at the games! Aren't they that much more compelling because each of those teams has a shot? If you're TCU, you have to beat Boise, then maybe Bama and Texas to win it all. I'd watch each one of these games from kickoff to the last down. It's a fantasy every college football fan has.
But the bowls want to keep the monopoly on their money. Did you know that each of the major bowls has a CEO? They generate so much revenue through one game to support an entire company for a year! How hard do you think that CEO works? Maybe 5 days a year? Or does he have a second job to supplement his huge salary? Did you know that the Rose Bowl CEO makes around 250K?
Playoffs will generate more money, but these greedy bowl reps are worried about their shares. If they're so greedy, why can't the NCAA guarantee them their current salary just to make them happy? Instead, they're intent on doing everything to protect the BCS, even scheduling bowls to keep the big conferences happy, so they won't lose their credibility. Of the 5 ranked non-BCS teams, BYU is the only one playing a ranked BCS team. Utah is playing a crappy Cal team, and TCU is playing Boise St, of course. The other team? Central Michigan (ranked 25 in the AP poll) is playing Troy. It's especially suspicious because TCU played Boise last year, too, when both teams were in the top 15, but left out of the BCS. Utah was graciously given Bama, but I think the BCS learned from that mistake.
Well, that's it for my 3rd annual BCS Bashing. See you next year!
Well, I've realized that it's fun to care about sports. The more things you care about, the more exciting your life is, the more you have to talk about. I don't limit my caring to just sports, I care about important things (family, friends, church, God) and not-so-important things (TV shows, music, gardening, sports). I've realized that apathy is not for me. I liked to consider myself a laid-back person, but does it bug me when my plants die? Yes. Does it bother me when my favorite artist has a disappointing album? Yes. Do I hang onto these things for days, weeks, or months? No.
So I've decided that, yes, it is worth the time and emotional investment to watch sports. Plus, since I have DVR, I don't need to plan my life around watching sports. I watch it when it's on, and if I care enough about it, I'll record it and watch it at my convenience later (usually when I'm holding The Boy).
I also don't understand why anybody would watch sports without caring one way or the other about who wins. What's the point? It's like watching American Idol for the quality karaoke. You don't care about the singing (unless it's atrocious), you care about the winning. In our leisure, we want to watch anything that entertains us more than a substitute activity. To me, that's sports.
That's why college football bothers me so much. A playoff has so much potential! Take March Madness, put it into 3 jam-packed Saturdays, and think about how much entertainment that is! Plus, the timing couldn't be better. You've taken a couple weeks off of work for the holidays, so there's plenty of time to watch football.
Instead, we have 40 meaningless game and one "meaningful" game, although we're never really sure if that game has the right teams in it. As a BYU fan, I barely care about our bowl game, another boring Las Vegas bowl. Even if BYU wasn't in the playoffs, I would find all of the playoff games more interesting than BYU playing the 9th best team in the PAC-10.
Who really wants that? It's getting ridiculous. How can something this unpopular go unchanged for this long? I thought we lived in a capitalist society, where the majority gets what the majority wants?
If we had playoffs this year, how great would the match-ups be? Now, from all playoff scenarios I've heard or read about, I think the best, most-likely one would be the one found here. Although I would prefer 12 or 16 teams, I would settle for 8. Beggars can't be choosers. What I like most about this is that each conference would only be allowed one representative. Say what you will, but frankly, if you're not the champion of your own conference, then you shouldn't be the champion of the nation. The next 2 spots would go to the highest ranked non-BCS conference champions, or an Independent ranked higher. Even though this is still not completely fair, it's a step in the right direction. The difficult thing is getting rid of the pointless bowl games. Once that's done, changing it to 12 or 16 teams will be much easier.
Using that format, what would we have (using the BCS poll)?
1. Bama vs Ga Tech
2. Texas vs Ohio St
3. Cincy vs Oregon
4. TCU vs Boise
Although TCU still plays Boise St (a matchup that nobody wanted except the BCS conferences-do you realize that the only ranked team from a BCS conf that's playing a non-BCS team is Oregon St? More on this below...) at least the winner would go on to the 2nd round to play a BCS team in either Bama or Ga Tech.
But look at the games! Aren't they that much more compelling because each of those teams has a shot? If you're TCU, you have to beat Boise, then maybe Bama and Texas to win it all. I'd watch each one of these games from kickoff to the last down. It's a fantasy every college football fan has.
But the bowls want to keep the monopoly on their money. Did you know that each of the major bowls has a CEO? They generate so much revenue through one game to support an entire company for a year! How hard do you think that CEO works? Maybe 5 days a year? Or does he have a second job to supplement his huge salary? Did you know that the Rose Bowl CEO makes around 250K?
Playoffs will generate more money, but these greedy bowl reps are worried about their shares. If they're so greedy, why can't the NCAA guarantee them their current salary just to make them happy? Instead, they're intent on doing everything to protect the BCS, even scheduling bowls to keep the big conferences happy, so they won't lose their credibility. Of the 5 ranked non-BCS teams, BYU is the only one playing a ranked BCS team. Utah is playing a crappy Cal team, and TCU is playing Boise St, of course. The other team? Central Michigan (ranked 25 in the AP poll) is playing Troy. It's especially suspicious because TCU played Boise last year, too, when both teams were in the top 15, but left out of the BCS. Utah was graciously given Bama, but I think the BCS learned from that mistake.
Well, that's it for my 3rd annual BCS Bashing. See you next year!
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