The Rosie-Roo Challenge

At the hardest part of my mission, I was sent an angel to save me from my sadness. He came in the form of a 300-pound, bespectacled band geek with a name that he swears is pretty in Swedish. His last name was Rosenlof, which apparently means "rose leaf." His name was particularly easy to lampoon, especially given his being large in stature and his meticulous, molasses way of doing things. After going through the normal nicknames that he had heard throughout his life, he told me that it had all been done. I took that challenge and spent the last year of my mission on special assignment: make up ridiculous nicknames for Elder Rosenlof.

The unoriginals:

• Rosensloth
• Slowsensloth
• Rosenloaf
• Raisinloaf

The first time I made him laugh, while we walked in the scary area below the I-10:

• Oh, Elder Wovencloth.

When we caught him in a lie:

• Elder Mentirosenlof ("liar" in Spanish: mentiroso)

What caused him to say, "Oh no! That might catch on!":

• Elder Clovenhoof

When we realized he might have a heart attack after eating two helpings at Rocio's house:

• Elder Closinoff, first name, Arteries

What I would have called him if he had ever stepped in chicken noodle soup:

• Elder Toesinbroth

What I would have called him had he had a fight with some Catholic priests:

• Elder Foesincloth

What I would have called him had he ever tried to use the discount clothing store as his personal storage area:

• Elder StowsinRoss

I extend the challenge to all of you to help poor Rosie by coming up with some more original nicknames for him!

Hey, Rosie-Roo! I miss you!

Mob Mentality

I think it's something we've all experienced: the incredible ability of a large group of people to (1) come up with bad ideas and (2) mutate any possibly good ideas into bad ones.

Last night in FHE, we discussed the charge given to us by the activities committee of creating a three-minute film for the closing social Academy Awards night. I had thought of a possible idea based on my Friday night experience: you see a guy getting ready for a date. Then you show him on the many phases of the date; at the movies, playing in the park, laughing and talking. But you only show him, through the use of clever camera angles. Then you show him at the doorstep. He then starts kissing the girl, but the it turns out he is only kissing himself, you know, that stupid making-out-with-yourself thing. Then, in a Sixth Sense inspired moment, you see clips of him on his date--by himself. Then maybe at the end you see a girl at the next door making out with herself, too. Then they can get together. Who knows.

I was certainly not set on having my idea done, but I did have a few requirements for the film:

• It has to be manageable in 3 minutes.
• It has to have a point.
• It has to at least be good in theory.

The other idea that pooled a lot of support was a girl watching TV. She could surf through the channels and see lots of different TV shows. That means a lot of people would get to participate, which is good, but it would also not have a point, which is bad.

As the group leader, I was moderating the discussion, which meant that I couldn't executively decide that we would do my idea. So I just hinted a lot. Then another girl who was on the same page as I, spoke up and basically decided for the group.

Once we had decided on the idea, the mob mentality took over. Somehow the idea eventually mutated into a black-and-white silent film with people sitting in different apartments asking each other, "I wonder what Limon is up to tonight? He's probably doing whatever," at which point you would see me doing whatever. If I let it go on, it probably would have ended up about a talking whale who befriends Napoleon and carries him away from Elba Island in Jonah-like fashion.

I decided in that moment to end FHE, saying, "The 'details' will be worked out in a smaller group, one comprised of people who can keep from taking a simple idea and distorting it in such a way that even Mandy Moore wouldn't star in it."

The moral of the story is that we should avoid attempting to come to a consensus in a group of more than four people. In a larger group, those who disagree generally keep their mouths shut, opting rather to slowly change the consensus back to their idea through subtle manipulation.

The Daily Universe

The name of the Daily Universe, the BYU school newspaper, should be changed to something scathing and unclever, like the Crappy Universe or the Daily Toilet Paper. It is so consistently awful that I don't even know where to begin. How about the first thing I read today, the caption to the picture on the front page:

Incumbent mayoral candidate Lewis K. Billings Dave Bailey, left, speaks on October 27 as candidate Dave Bailey looks listens to his remarks.

Did they have two sentences that they couldn't decide between? Because it looks as though they just smashed them together. Or maybe it is just a very odd coincidence that the incumbent and the other candidate have the same final names, and also a new verb has been discovered: to look listen. I look listen, you look listen, he/she looks listens.

When do we draw the line? I call upon the literate world to unite in protest against the slaughter of the English language!
Let it be known that cutting paragraphs off in the middle of a sentence is more than just a bad break.
Let it be known that "in light of" and "in lieu of" are in no way synonymous!
Let it be known that "soggy" is not an appropriate word to have in the headline of a front-page story!

I am not suggesting that we write letters to the editor, because I have already assumed that he or she cannot read. I am just hoping that by some miracle, we can hold our magic rings out and yell,
"Grammar!"
"Punctuation!"
"Spelling!"
"Style!"
"Heart!"
then have some bluish green man appear, saying, "With your powers combined, I am Captain Universe!" At this point he would go and destroy the Brimhall Building--or grab a red pencil and do some real editing. Either one would work for me right now. Meanwhile, I'll be looking listening to some books music.

What's Funny Is Funny

And credit needs to given.

From an e-mail from wcl:

About two months ago a girl, wait, maybe you were here for this one. I can't remember. I'll just tell you like you weren't here. About two months ago a girl bore her testimony and made an inappropriate comment that made me cringe. Just as the shock of it was wearing off, she stood yesterday and made the same disgusting comment. Here's the comment: "You'll have to bear with me because I have a plumbing problem. My bladder is connected to my tear ducts. It's genetic."

WHAT?! She pees out of her eyes? Doesn't that stink? Doesn't that stain your face? Doesn't it sting your eyes? GROSS. Even if her bladder were connected to her tear ducts, would that mean that her eyes should uncontrollably leak urine every time she testifies? Why wasn't this girl taught anything as a child? Where were her parents, primary teachers, or EFY counselors? Please stop referring to bathroom activities in testimony meeting. Two other people then referenced her comment by admitting to "plumbing problems." Unbelievable. Stupid people. Oh, and Sacrament Mtg. went for two hours after that comment. I was dying.

Please teach the children to not pee out of their eyes.

As long as you continue to write me e-mails like that, I will, wcl, I will.

Speaking of teaching children, check out Daltongirl's master teaching moments.

What You Overhear at the Office

From the other side of the cubicle:

She: (in threatening tone) You'd better learn not to laugh at me.

He: (in earnest) I'm sorry. I'll try not to find things funny. I mean, it's not what you're saying, it's just that you say it with kind of a whiny voice. I hope you don't take that wrong.

She: Oh.

He: It's just the whining that I think is funny. I mean, I know going to the hospital is not that funny.

Likening the Scriptures

Last night I was Ether. And I do not mean that I was an all-pervading, infinitely elastic, massless medium formerly postulated as the medium of propagation of electromagnetic waves. I mean Ether, son of Coriantor, Ether.

I helped prepare for and attended a Halloween party at my neighbor's house. It started out well enough. The whole house was decorated. The basement bedroom was transformed into a movie room. The living room and carport were dances. There was a VIP lounge on the third floor where you could eat fondue and go on the balcony. There were probably about five hundred people that ended up coming.

I was dressed as a pepper shaker. When people asked if I was a pepper shaker, I said, "No, I am a lazy cheap man," because that felt more honest. I must also note that the best costumes of the night were two guys who dressed up like the Wheelers from Return to Oz, starring Fairuza Balk. They really skated around all night and were rather creepy, until one came up and asked for water. I said it was upstairs and said, dejectedly, "All those stairs." Then he wheeled away, sad-like.


I began to feel like Ether, however, when three different groups of guys showed up as strippers. Bow ties and all. When we said you must wear a costume, we also should have mentioned that skin does not count as a costume, unless you are a dressed as a hamster. The ladies of the night were also in rare form, some girls even coming as "just-got-out-of-the-shower girls," dressed only in towels. The height of my disgust came when I witnessed a girl in a corset and pink panty-pants dancing with one of the aforementioned strippers on a table outside. She proceeded to take off his belt and undo his pants. The pants dropped far enough to see the side strap of a thong before he pulled them back up and buttoned them.

I felt the Spirit of the Lord urging me to retreat to my cave to record the iniquities and abominations of the people. I don't have a cave, so I just went home. But I know Nephi would be proud of me for likening my somewhat righteous indignation to the work of the prophets of old.