How to Plan a Wedding

Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage.
This I tell ya, brother, you can't have one without the other.
Love and marriage, love and marriage,
It's an institute you can't disparage.
Ask the local gentry and they will say it's elementary.
Try, try, try to separate them, it's an illusion.
Try, try, try and you only come to this conclusion:
Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage.
Dad was told by mother you can't have one
You can't have none.
You can't have one without the other.
~Love and Marriage: Frank Sinatra.

With my plethora of experience in all things marital, I felt that I should pass on my vast array of knowledge to you, the readers, on the topic of planning a wedding. Although I technically have helped plan only one wedding (in a role that I would describe as "riding shotgun"), please keep in mind that I have had many roommates, friends, associates, relatives, and neighbors get married. Hence I do indeed feel qualified to give this advice.

Here is my hand wave at a tacit disclaimer. Grains of salt should be partaken of while eating reading this post. 

• Choose a wedding date. When choosing a wedding date, perhaps the most important thing is to make sure that both you and your projected spouse can attend. After that, you may want to confirm that other special guests can attend. There is a direct relationship between how far in advance you notify prospective guests of the date and the amount of them that will attend. However, that being said, it is usually best to get married as quickly as possible. The longer you wait, the less desperate you appear. You need to appear desperate. As the old adage goes "Desperation is the mother of marriages." (As quoted in V. Anne Durson's book We Didn't Look Before we Leaped: A Retrospective on the Lights and Glamour of Rural Iowa). Although, there are several variations on that well known quote. To wit, "Marriage is the desperation of mothers," "Marriage is the mother of desperation," and "Mary's mother is desperate for her to get married."
• Choose the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Traditionally, these people were chosen as sort of "back-ups" to the actual bride and groom. If, say, the groom failed to show, the best man would step in and marry the girl. If the best man did not show, then the second best man would marry the girl. So on and so forth, much like the line of succession to the United States Presidency. This practice of "replacement" was formally stopped in the 1920s when county clerks were having to record marriages of the fifth best man to the third best bridesmaid. It just became too complicated. In fact, you will find that most wedding practices were started several centuries ago and have been perpetuated long past their pragmatic prime. 
• Select a photographer. You will need to select someone to take several hundred photos of you before, during, and after the wedding. Most people store their wedding photography in a box in their basement, so it is critical that you join in this tradition of archiving memories for future generations to find and discard when you die. The photographer will probably take some photos of you in various outfits a few weeks before the wedding. These are called "engagement photos." Consider stretching before these photos, as some of the poses require a degree of flexibility. If you wrestled or played football in high school, this will be in your favor, as many of the poses resemble classic moves such as the Full Nelson and the blindside blitz.
  
  
  
   

Some couples also choose to get what are called bridals and groomals. Bridals are photographs depicting the bride. Groomals are what infest your tent when you go camping. 

I should also mention that some wedding photographers are like anesthesiologists. This is because wedding photography, like anesthesiology, requires technical skills in Photoshop. (And don't even get me started on the malpractice insurance for being a wedding photographer.) Needless to say, such Photoshop skill do not come without years of practice and schooling. Heck, I've known photographers who have been going at it for 20 years and just barely perfected the "throwing leaves in the air while peek-a-booing around a tree pose." Expect to pay the photographer about as much as you would pay someone charged with the task of keeping you alive while under anesthesia. Because staying alive during surgery and having good photos to put in a box in the basement are both equally important. (It should be noted that Obamacare only covers wedding photography if you have a plan on the Gold Level or higher. I believe the same goes for anesthesia). 

• Choosing Colors. As part of your wedding, you will need to choose two or three theme colors for your wedding. As a rule of thumb, avoid choosing the same colors you wore to senior prom. (Moreover, avoid going to senior prom in the first place. Your life will usually be better without high school romance). One rule of choosing colors is noting the season. There is a complicated set of standards pertaining to colors that can be worn in certain seasons. For example, you cannot wear navy blue in the summer, since that is a winter color. You also cannot wear lilac in the winter. Basic, basic, doctrine here. And never wear yellow. White people do not look good in yellow.

• Pinterest. I cannot say enough good about Pinterest. If you are a girl over age 12, you should get a head start and begin planning your wedding on Pinterest right now. This site is the Mecca for wedding planning. Cookies, cake, cake pops, cup cakes, caked mud, dresses, suits, pictures, decorations, crocodiles, balloons, party favors, dog food, napkins, table runners, flowers, wigs, make-up....etc. All of this is on Pinterest, and all of it is important for a good wedding. If you do not use Pinterest to plan your wedding, you will have a bad wedding. I promise it will happen. It is honestly amazing how anyone planned a wedding before Pinterest came along. (Although, this probably explains some of the hairstyles at those weddings in the 1980s #PinterestFailBeforeItExisted). You must use Pinterest if you do not want to become the laughing stock of your community. I once went to a wedding and they had punch that was NOT PINTEREST APPROVED. I mean, who does that? Did they really expect me to drink lemonade that they just mixed up without consulting Pinterest? Total disregard for the proper way to plan a wedding. 

• The Announcements. After deciding on a date for the wedding and getting your engagement photos taken, the next step is to print the announcements. Timing is important here. If you send the announcements too soon, people will forget the wedding and will not come. If you send the announcements too late, no one will be able to come. The best timing is around 10 days before the wedding. This way people will be obligated to come, but they will not have time to stay very long and eat all of the food. 

Most people will already know when and where you are getting married anyway, so honestly, a Facebook group might suffice. Making people guess about some of the details is part of the fun of getting married. Everyone enjoys a good riddle, especially when it entails marriage. Because everyone loves marriage.

Whatever you do, make sure that you do not have typos in your announcement. Do not make a bad grammatical mistake like telling you're family "Your invited to my wedding."

Yes, this actually happened today. #IGoToSchoolHere

• The wedding reception. If you want to received gifts, you sort of need to have one of these. Or at the very least, you need to pretend to have a reception. I was once told of a couple that had a wedding deception. They got married in the morning, then skipped town before the reception. All the guests showed up (gift in hand!) to a reception that had been planned for that evening. However, having skipped town, the main attractions were in absentia. (Although, I honestly do not go to receptions to see the bride and groom; I go to get the food and tell snide jokes. Hence, not seeing the "main attractions" would be of little worry to me).  The glory of this wedding deception was that the bride and groom still got gifts, but did not have to stand in line to greet all the old ladies from the bridge club. Lest you worry about me myself "hosting" a wedding deception, I will be having a true reception the night before the wedding. Hence the deception plan is off the table (for now). 

Big Families and Prison

You can spend all your time making money
You can spend all your love making time
If it all fell to pieces tomorrow
Would you still be mine?

And when you're looking for your freedom
(Nobody seems to care)
And you can't find the door
(Can't find it anywhere)
When there's nothing to believe in
Still you're coming back, you're running back
You're coming back for more

So put me on a highway
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time

Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit one more time.

~Take It to the Limit (The Eagles)

This week I have included a song by The Eagles in honor of Glenn Frey, who passed away this week. Randy Meisner (bass player) mostly wrote the song above (and actually was the lead singer), but Glenn Frey also contributed. 

This post is not as light and fluffy as some recent posts have been. As always, remember what I say about Carly Simon. If you think this post is about you, it isn't. I am not here to judge you on how many children you have, when you have them, where you have them, how you have them, or even why you have them. This is merely a stream of conscience babble about a newspaper article.

Earlier this week I read a newspaper article about a recently published academic paper that used a 33 year longitudinal study (basically meaning "over time") to conclude that children from "large" families are less likely to succeed in life. This of course got some people rather riled up and many undies were put in bunches. Scriptures were quoted ("Multiply and Replenish!"). Presidents of the LDS Church were quoted (1850s, 1950s, doesn't matter). Mind bogglingly bad math errors were perpetuated. (Supposedly the birth rate of LDS couples has declined by more than 75% in the last 30 years. Because general conference said so. I must have missed that session). So on and so forth.

I read the study and, honestly, I think it was grasping a little bit. The upper tail of their data was rather sparse (families with > 6 children comprised about 2% of the subjects, yet were critical to the authors' conclusions), and there was significant confounding with the education level of the mother (almost to the degree where it felt like that should have been their key conclusion).

Since most of you have not come here to learn the nitty-gritty of statistics, I will refrain from going into all the details. However, rest assured that just because you come from a family of nine children, it does not mean I think you are going to go to prison. (Although you probably would be used to sharing a room, so there could be benefits to being from a large family and being in prison).

Due to recent events cataloged in the blog, the whole question of "how many children will you have?" is one that I have had several people ask me. It is the new "let me pry into your life" question. For single people, the question is "Why are you not married yet?" and for married people the question is "Children: when, where, and how many?"

Let me clarify that what I say in the blog today is not a response to that question. Yes, I have a general number in mind, but quite frankly, it is none of your (or their) business. And besides, how in the world would I know the actual answer? Sometimes we act as if one "gets a baby" by going to WalMart and buying them on a price rollback. (Hint, that is not how it works). The climb is more difficult for some than it is for others. (A thing which I claim no personal experience in, yet find some to be head scratchingly unaware of). It is of course sort of silly of me to lecture about this topic when I myself have no children, so I will put the stopper in here.

As most of you are aware, I have fewer than 3 children, but more than one child, in my family (don't botch the math there Mr. 75% Decline). Upon occasion, this has prompted people to ask me "Why is this so?" Almost like I needed an excuse or something. Maybe I should tell these people that I used to have five sisters, but they are all in prison now and so we do not talk about them. I mean, what type of response are these people looking for? Do they want a detailed fiscal and medical history? Do they want me to just come right out and say we are wicked in my family? (I literally think that is what some people have wanted in fact). The best reply I have used recently is to inform the imprudent inquirer that my parents grew up when Harold B. Lee was president of the Church and he only had two children, so... fill in the rest. No one has known how to reply to that one.

All of this is not a slam on people with large families. I just do not come from a large family, hence the reason I am not sharing my perspective on coming from such. Several of my best friends in school came from large families in fact. (None of them are in prison by the way). They are all successful people, which is to be expected.

I will close with two comments from readers of the article I linked above.

I grew up in a family of seven children and LOVED it. There was always someone to play with, give advice, help with homework, and have your back. We have enough for a small team in backyard sports, and board games were always entertaining! Out of these seven children came 4 bachelor's degrees, a beauty school degree, two real estate school graduates, 22 magnificent children and counting, and one very happy and huge eternal family. I would not trade the big family I grew up with for all the world!

I grew up in a family of two children and LOVED it. My brother was always there to play with me, give advice, help with my homework, and have my back. We played backyard sports together and board games were a favorite activity. Out of the two of us, we both have (or are currently doing) doctoral degrees. Only I am married (My brother is still in his mid 20s though) and neither of us have any children. My family is a very happy and eternal family. I would not trade the small family I grew up with for all the world.

While this second one was probably said somewhat tongue in cheek (Interestingly, twice as many readers liked it as compared to the first comment), I thought it showed successful families can be large or small. It is the same old argument of qualitative versus quantitative. We are good at the one, not so good at the other.

Comment below if you want.

After a Break.

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be heroes, just for one day

And you, you can be mean
And I, I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we're lovers, and that is that

Though nothing, will keep us together
We could steal time, just for one day
We can be heroes, forever and ever
What'd you say?

I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, forever and ever
Oh we can be heroes, just for one day

~Heroes (David Bowie) 

I have included a song by David Bowie today since he passed away this week. I have been rather amazed that there are people who have never heard of David Bowie. Here is a picture to jump start your memory:

Those of you who do know who David Bowie is (aka Ziggy Stardust, aka the Thin White Duke) are familiar with the fact that his catalogue of music is rather eclectic. As the old adage goes, Dylan went electric and Bowie went eclectic. Perhaps this post today is a bit like this. There are a lot of small bits that seem rather disconnected, but in all, they form a single whole for readers who know all the stories and can pick up on the underlying meanings.

As I was looking through some photos of Mr. Bowie I realized that he has a rather close resemblance to one of my associates. See if you can see the resemblance with someone you know.

Creepy, right? No word on if he has a buddy on the husky side.

For those ardent followers of the blog, you will know that I have not written for a while. The last time I wrote, the white Bronco had not yet headed east. Said horse has now hitched elsewhere. It remains to be seen as to what this will mean. It probably will go one way or another: lift-off will occur, or we will crash and burn. The odds are roughly 4:1 in favor of the latter I feel. But we will see. At least we can say that the odds are better than those for the likelihood of a tall can of cooking spray showing up on campus in a tacky corduroy jacket he bought at Goodwill. Because that wouldn't be safe. (By "safe" did he mean "not a safe win"? #HardFacts).

WARNING: Could explode at any moment

Except with tan pants.

Over the holiday break, I spent a considerable amount of time on the road. This does not mean that I literally was on the asphalt, but rather that I was inside a motor vehicle on the asphalt. I believe I slept in seven locations over the break. It was almost like I was a rock star on tour, except, of course, minus the millions of adoring fans and the private tour bus. But I did eat a large amount of food, which was probably bad.

My aunt has these amazing crescent roll things every year. Not that I ever take an exact count, but I think I ate 13 of them this year. In fact, I ate so much the Wii Fit nearly diagnosed me as being obese. It made me set a goal to lose some poundage by the end of eight weeks. That was two weeks ago. Not much progress has been made so far.

It is hard to know how accurate the WiiFit really is since its whole existence is contingent on people being overweight. It is like asking a car salesman if he thinks you need to buy a new car. As the old adage goes, "The camera adds 15 pounds, and so does the WiiFit."

I tried to work out on the WiiFit over the break, but I do not know if it made a difference. And besides, if you really expect the WiiFit to whip you into shape, you have hit rock bottom. That's what the TaeBo VHS tapes are for.

My goal is to look like this man--except remain white.

If you wondered, TaeBo is a portmanteau of Tae Kwon Do (태권도) and Boxing (복싱).....clearly the man is not aware that it's not called TIE-kwon-do (small pet peeve). I guess as long as people do not correct me when I say my phone was made by 삼성 I will be okay. Hint, it's not "SAM sung," as in the phrase "Sam sung a song" or something. The first syllable rhymes with bomb (but not comb or womb). Glad we got that cleared up. (Don't get me started on the high undies [Hyundai; 현대]).

I must admit that as of late I have become more aware of my ballooning weight. I am no longer the thin white duke I once was. (Okay, I never actually called myself that). It just has been hard to exercise as of late. #GlobalWarmingMissedMyTown. Maybe once the temperature gets to the double digits again I can go outside and exercise.

Sadly, I may at one point need to update my wardrobe since I no longer can fit into some of the pants from my mission. I did order a new suit from China, but it came and it was not really the right color.

Me, in the suit, before the large weight gain.

If I knew of any weddings, bar mitzvahs, or holidays coming up in the next month or two I would wear it, but alas, no such opportunity seems to be presenting itself. (Unless someone has failed to inform me of her impending quinceañera). (Are suits even appropriate for such an event?). This is probably for the best, since in my current puffy condition, I am not even sure I am fit to be seen in public. Or in private. Yes, perhaps it would be for the best if no one tries visiting me for the next few months while I work off all the cups of Christmas punch.

We will hopefully meet again next week. (Over the blog, certainly not in person. Not while the WiiFit continues to send me reminders to lose 15 pounds by February 26 [Six short weeks from tomorrow! I can hardly contain my youthful exuberance!]). 

My Name is not Randy

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue." 

~Johnny Cash, Lyrics by Shel Silverstein. 

Although Shel wrote poems for children, he was a frightening looking man.

It has been several weeks since I have last written on the blog. The reasons for this will probably be addressed in a future post, but the simple explanation is that I did not have a lot of time to write on the blog.

One topic I considered addressing was the migration of some football coaches to the East. (Does the phrase "White Bronco headed east" ring any bells?) I am bracing myself for a large beat down by the U of Fruits next week. Their QB probably will throw for some unseemly amount of yards and will have no interceptions. The guy cannot even complete 10 passes against most teams, but we will let him throw us blind. He always does. I also predict that we will return a kickoff for a touchdown, but that it will be called back for a block in the back. Oh, and watch for too many men in the backfield. That's one of their pet penalties this year.

---

The post for today is sort of a filler post and may only be for the most dedicated readers. I know that there are many of you. Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration.

Several events over the past few weeks have reminded me of some of my more ardent pet peeves. As you may have deduced from the blog already, I am rather easily annoyed by incompetence and general baffoonery. Pretty much society in general. This is what some people refer to as "being a curmudgeon."

One sort of major pet peeve that I have is when I tell people my name and they then ask if I go by Randy. Umm, no. If my name was Randy, I would have said "My name is Randy." I wonder if these are the same people that assume men named William go by Willie or men named Joseph go by Joey. And of course, every Robert wants to be called Bobby or Bubba. That'll get you far in life.

Some people do not even ask; they assume. I am aware of the fact that back in the 1960s or whatever, every man shortened his name to something ending in "-ey" or "-ie." The people that assume are usually from that generation. But I also get assumers among my peers. Those good people that do not understand social cues. Bless their hearts.

As of late, when asked if I go by the name Randy, I usually reply that my friends call me by my actual name and my enemies call me Randy. No one has questioned me further after that. Another move that I use is to tell people who think that my name is Randy that I actually prefer the name Trent with an accent on the "Y." That is, "Trýnt." Very subtle, but very effective.  No one has ever been able to come back from that one.

The reason that I do not go by the name Randy is because it reminds me too much of a man with a mustache and a mullet:

Randy Johnson aka The Big Unit

This is not to say that every Randy has a haircut from the 1980s / wants to look like KC Masterpiece circa 2013. In fact, Randy Johnson is the only Randy I know with a mullet. But I personally do not want to risk the association.

This photo does not do the mullet justice.

Another pet peeve (if you can call it that) is group projects. Because the end of the semester is coming closer, I have had to endure some group projecting. My current group has a tag team duo consisting of the cro magnon man and a guy that looks like a white Shrek with a man bun. So far, Cro Mag has done a sort of decent job. He at least managed to show up with the poster. Shrek (or is it Shreky?)........Shrek is still looking for the Muffin Man. And Shrek smokes cigarettes. Not to be judgmental, but that pretty much sums it up right there. If you are born after the 1980s and you smoke, there is no hope for you. (Okay, smoking is also one of my pet peeves).

This, but with a man bun.

By some miracle, my group managed to actually give a decent presentation. Correction, Cro Mag and I gave a decent presentation. White Shrek demonstrated how to swig Diet Coke while at the front of a classroom. He did a very good job of it. Much Diet Coke was consumed. And he did it without saying a word. Unfortunately, he was not being graded on his ability to consume soda pop. But if he had been, he would have received extra credit.

I could go on about group projects, but I will sum it up by saying that sometimes you just need to put two grown men on your back and carry them up the hill.

I did have a group project in high school that went pretty decently. We ended up dressing up in clown costumes and I played something on the guitar. This was for a math class (#PublicSkoolsWerkGood). We were the first group to present. We were also the last. After our presentation I think the teacher did not dare go on with the rest of the presentations. Who knows what the Honz would have done. After all, she did end up with someone from the U of Fruits.

My Name is (not) Russell

I turn the music up, I got my records on
I shut the world outside until the lights come on
Maybe the streets alight, maybe the trees are gone
I feel my heart stop beating to my favorite song
And all the kids they dance, all the kids all night
Until Monday morning feels another life
I turn the music up
I'm on a roll this time
And heaven is in sight
I turn the music up, I got my records on
From underneath the rubble sing a rebel song
Don't want to see another generation drop
I'd rather be a comma than a full stop

~Coldplay

As some of you were aware, I missed writing on the blog last week. I was officially off doing other business. What that business was, I cannot actually remember, but I am sure it was important.

In the course of the past week, I have had multiple inquiries into the details of my life. This is a rare event, since many times I struggle just to get people to remember that my name is not Russell.

Russell Crowe

Russell Westbrook

 Why do people always think my name is Russell? Do I look like a Russell or something? (See above photos). But that's a thing, you know; people who look like they should have a certain name, yet have a different (unfitting) name. I had an associate once who looked like an "Andy." And his friend was a "Clifford." Their real names did not fit them at all. It can be quite an enjoyable exercise to assign new names to people you know. Nevertheless, I digress.


Owing to the events of last week it seems that I should write something on the blog. I have looked at a lot of options for what to write here, but really have not come up with anything substantial. There is not much to say honestly. There is no video footage. Nothing inventive was done. I did not burn down a field with fireworks. (That's a beginner's mistake). There was no month long build up. I did not rent a helicopter or a balloon. The whole event was what we call "organic." That word, organic, can have many meanings. I am not indicating that the event was devoid of pesticides. Pesticides may or may not have been used. You know I enjoy my chlorodinitronaphthalenes. (That currently is the biggest word I have ever used on the blog). Here is the chemical structure for those of you who follow such things.

But seriously folks. No pesticides were used. However, that is not why the whole event was organic. The definition being used here means "characterized by continuous or natural development." (This is one of the rare times where I will define words on this blog). Not much to say beyond that.

However, I will give a few bits of commentary. 

A little over a month ago, I went to a jeweler and looked at rings. These people were slick as baby oil. Smeared on a sheet of ice. Made of dish soap. They did give me a free half pint of water, so I at least got something out of it. But I do not find myself going to this certain jeweler in the future. 

Let me add here that I do not like going to jewelers. This is one reason why I do not frequent jewelry shops. (Plus, I have never had a reason to go to them in the first place). Some jewelers fancy themselves as being able to tell you what your girlfriend/wife/lover/student (okay most of us do not buy jewels for our students, former or otherwise) wants.  And they have emotion and a healthy amount of tradition in their side. (And I swear I saw a picture of Colonel Sanders on the wall of one shop). I am someone who finds most social tradition bothersome. Yes, I happen to be one of the five people in the world who did not enjoy "Fiddler on the Roof."

Since my first foray into jewel shops was less than auspicious, I decided it was best to take a team of seasoned explorers into the next shop. This trip was much more successful to say the least. So successful in fact that I looked no further.

Last Thursday I finally received a call from Jared. Not the shop by that name, the person by that name. I found it rather ironic that someone named Jared would work for a jewelry shop that wasn't Jared's. Although I guess that we have to let people named Wendy work at Burger King if they want. (However I have no idea why anyone, Wendys or otherwise, would want to work at Burger King. Maybe to get the $15 an hour that such workers clearly deserve). The same logic holds for people named Burger King wanting to work at Wendy's. You have to let them do it, and you cannot laugh at their odd name.

Through a series of events last week, I procured the ring. Then the deal went down, so to speak, on Saturday. Most of you were already aware of this.

After the deal went down, we went to the Deseret Industries to celebrate. We purchased a couple pieces of glassware and went home. It was back to normal life. #NBD.

Finding the Answer

I have been searchin' for ten thousand years
I keep on learnin', yes, learnin' how to ease my fears
Contradictions clearly state
I'm never gonna find you before it's too late
Who could predict a poor man's fate
We gotta keep movin on before it's too late

~The Answer: Never Too Late

I do not usually comment directly on the songs I quote, but today I am going to do so. One of my associates writes about music on his blog, so this is my salute to him. You can skip this if you desire. The band listed above is new to me until recently. Maybe some of you have heard of them. Honestly I do not really plan on listening to them again. (Since I do not even listen to Led Zeppelin very often). Really the only reason I use them today is due to their apropos name and song title. In a limited sample size, I would classify The Answer as a "Led Zeppelin" knock off band from Downpatrick, Ireland. It would have been slightly better of course of they were from Northern Ireland or Scotland, but it is what it is. Nevertheless, their lead singer is essentially your typical Robert Plant impersonator and they play Les Paul guitars and Fender Jazz basses. It also looks like their drummer plays kits with two floor toms and only one rack tom. So, yeah, pretty much Led Zeppelin.

This is actually Led Zeppelin. And the guitar is not a Les Paul.
Unless you want to call the SG a Les Paul, since it technically was called that.

In order to understand the post from this week, you will need to to read the post from last week. Honestly, in order to understand this post you will perhaps more than that. That holds true for most of these posts, in fact. Anyway.

This post will be providing the answers to the test for last week. I will also be providing some commentary to the answers. As always, if you need or want to know more, you know how to get a hold of me.

Several of you suggested alternative answers and methods of taking the test. As will be shown, not every answer was C or something like that. Although, answering the same letter for every question gave some rather hilarious interpretations.

Before I begin, let me also give a sort of disclaimer: As much as most of this blog contains rude satire and philippics, the posts from this week and last week (mostly) contain factual information. Hopefully the well thinking reader can tell the obvious lies from the subtle truths. The substantive conclusions presented herein are perfectly factual.  

1. They kick you out of singles wards when ______________

a. You turn 28.

b. You criticize singles wards on a blog.

c. You get married. 

d. You do not reach the dating quota three months in a row.

C. Not much explanation needed here. Although I have been threatened with with D a few times. Luckily I always managed to find loopholes to fulfill the quota. And it was a good thing I did, since those marrieds sure as heck do not want you infiltrating their wards.

2. "Who is the ginger on your Facebook page?"

a. Peppermint Patty.

b. Anne of Green Gables.

c. I am unaware of such photos.

d. This question can be answered using rudimentary Facebook stalking.

D. "Rudimentary" is a relative term here, but even a Facebook neophyte should be able to at least extract a name and a photograph. Given, I fancy myself as somewhat of a Facebook stalking pro, but nevertheless this task should not present serious challenges to an engine with determination.

3. "Why is the ginger on your Facebook page?"

a. She is the reason why I am leaving singles wards in May.

b. She styles man buns for a living and I am helping her promote her business.

c. I am unaware of such photos.

d. The Witness Protection Program has requested that I post misleading photos.

A. See #1. (Although yes, I have also participated in answer B).

4. "How did you meet the ginger?"
a. We had a class together.
b. We were in a singles ward together.
c. I am unaware of such a ginger.
d. Through systematic dating based upon well established principles of courtship.

A. That is the official answer. This question gave several people difficulties. Alternative answers were proposed. Eyebrows were raised. Threats from foreign soils were issued. (Not all these from the same people). The complete answer to this question is rather complicated. Maybe you will hear the complete story sometime. Let me also add that--much to the chagrin of the Traditionalists--persons marking D on this question failed the entire exam. Just a matter of principle really. 

5. "Why did you meet the ginger?"
a. In order to reach quota.
b. She styles man buns for a living. Who wouldn't want that?
c. This is a question of social economics beyond my comprehension.
d. Dating is deterministic and I went on enough dates to reach the attainment threshold. This is how you find a spouse. You go on many dates and hold hands with lots of princesses and you marry one of them. This is the only approved doctrine.

I have been open in discussing the fact that there is much more that we do not know about social economics than stuff we do know. This concept is among the core topics of the blog. And again, as with question #4, D is grounds for automatic failure. Pass GO and do not collect $200. 

6. "When is the wedding?"
a. February 29, 2016
b. October 22, 2015
c. December 26, 2015
d. May 14, 2016

D. Here D is actually the correct answer. Answer A was at one point in consideration, but I decided to bag that idea once I figured out that I would not be able to win the bronze medal anyway. 

7. "Why is there a wedding?"
a. It should be pretty obvious.
b. You have to spend your millions on something.
c. Because I enjoy standing for hours on end in dress clothes.
d. That's a good question. Why do we have weddings?

A. Although D does bring up a good point. Furthermore, for the record, I have chosen to spend my latest million on some Pink Floyd gear. Or oversees investments. I have not quite decided yet.

The Fender Custom Shop David Gilmour Model.
I do not own this guitar, but I did almost win one on eBay once.

8. "Who will provide the music at the wedding?"
a. Bob Dylan.
b. The Boss, singing "Whip Your Hair" with Jimmy Fallon (AKA Neil Young).
c. Elvis (1950s version)
d. There will be no music or dancing. Or at least no dancing.

B. You had to be there. But there is a YouTube video.

9. "Are you in the witness protection program?"
a. Yes.
b. No.
c. Sure.
d. I am not aware of such a program.

C. No Comment.

10. "Where will the wedding be held?"
a. Winnemucca, NV
b. Portland, OR (or is it Maine......?)
c. Provo, UT
d. Wedding? What are you talking about?

C. The picture stands. But we will be passing through Portland on the post-victory parade. (Which sounds more celebratory than a sidereal body made of beeswax).

11. "Why did you choose the date you did for the wedding?" 
a. Because I became a menace more than two years ago.
b. Marriage is best done hastily.
c. We are delaying marriage. And we like it. #BadUs.
d. We do not live in the same city. And neither of us can drop out of school. 

D. Sadly, there are far too many people who think the answer is B. Alas, no. Answering B would result in #immediateFailure. And even though A is true, it is not the answer to this question.

12. "What does this mean?"
a. I now can go to church and learn about......church (?).
b. I have no idea what it means.
c. My salvation is secured.
d. All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run.

B. Yeah. About that.

For those of you who want the fast key,

CDAACDABCCDB

 

Although, if you wanted the fast key, you just read through a lot of stuff you did not need to know.

As I always say, if you have further questions, you know my name and my number. And you hopefully do not need to use Facebook stalking to figure out the first.

Mawage

You and me
We come from different worlds
You like to laugh at me
When I look at other girls
Sometimes you're crazy
And you wonder why
I'm such a baby
'Cause the dolphins make me cry

Well, there's nothing I can do
I've been looking for a girl like you

You look at me, you got nothing left to say
I'm gonna pout at you until I get my way
I won't dance, you won't sing
I just wanna love you, but you wanna wear my ring

Well, there's nothing I can do
I only wanna be with you
You can call me your fool
I only wanna be with you

~Hootie and the Blowfish.

To quote the great Peter Cook: Mawage. Mawage is what brings us together today. (Okay, I use this line too much...)

I am done talking about singles wards. In May, my tenure in singles wards will seemingly end in fact. "Why?" you might ask? Here is why:

Choose the single BEST answer.

1. They kick you out of singles wards when ______________

a. You turn 28.

b. You criticize singles wards on a blog.

c. You get married. 

d. You do not reach the dating quota three months in a row.

Owing to the several questions that I have had in regard to the photographer for the blog, I felt it best to try to give a somewhat complete response to such inquiries.

Here is how this post will work. I took a test this week in categorical data analysis and so I felt it fitting that this post takes on the form of a test. I will publish the answers next week. For each question, choose the best single answer.

2. "Who is the ginger on your Facebook page?"

a. Peppermint Patty.

b. Anne of Green Gables.

c. I am unaware of such photos.

d. This question can be answered using rudimentary Facebook stalking.

3. "Why is the ginger on your Facebook page?"

a. She is the reason why I am leaving singles wards in May.

b. She styles man buns for a living and I am helping her promote her business.

c. I am unaware of such photos.

d. The Witness Protection Program has requested that I post misleading photos.

4. "How did you meet the ginger?"
a. We had a class together.
b. We were in a singles ward together.
c. I am unaware of such a ginger.
d. Through systematic dating based upon well established principles of courtship.

5. "Why did you meet the ginger?"
a. In order to reach quota.
b. She styles man buns for a living. Who wouldn't want that?
c. This is a question of social economics beyond my comprehension.
d. Dating is deterministic and I went on enough dates to reach the attainment threshold. This is how you find a spouse. You go on many dates and hold hands with lots of princesses and you marry one of them. This is the only approved doctrine.

6. "When is the wedding?"
a. February 29, 2016
b. October 22, 2015
c. December 26, 2015
d. May 14, 2016

7. "Why is there a wedding?"
a. It should be pretty obvious.
b. You have to spend your millions on something.
c. Because I enjoy standing for hours on end in dress clothes.
d. That's a good question. Why do we have weddings?

8. "Who will provide the music at the wedding?"
a. Bob Dylan.
b. The Boss, singing "Whip Your Hair" with Jimmy Fallon.
c. Elvis (1950s version)
d. There will be no music or dancing. Or at least no dancing.

The Boss. Whipping his hair. With a mahogany telecaster.

9. "Are you in the witness protection program?"
a. Yes.
b. No.
c. Sure.
d. I am not aware of such a program.

10. "Where will the wedding be held?"
a. Winnemucca, NV
b. Portland, OR (or is it Maine......?)
c. Provo, UT
d. Wedding? What are you talking about?

11. "Why did you choose the date you did for the wedding?" 
a. Because I became a menace more than two years ago.
b. Marriage is best done hastily.
c. We are delaying marriage. And we like it. #BadUs.
d. We do not live in the same city. And neither of us can drop out of school.

Too bad the singles ward posts are over. We loved those!

12. "What does this mean?"
a. I now can go to church and learn about......church (?).
b. I have no idea what it means.
c. My salvation is secured.
d. All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run.

Submit your answers if you desire. You know how to contact me if you have questions. Although, somehow I think that there will not be many of you with questions since most people seem to prefer to keep a level of distance.

Singles Wards. El Fin (del Mundo).

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
No, I aint gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
Well, when she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law
Everybody says
She's the brains behind pa
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.

~Maggie's Farm; Robert Zimmerman.

This is the final post on singles wards. I hope to never have to talk about singles wards again. Be warned that this post could be rather dense. Although maybe that is what you think of every post.

After a four year tenure in the same singles ward, I recently changed wards. (This came with changing cities). The funny thing is that probably no one even knew I had left. There were no announcements. No crying. No memorials on the ward ("Unofficial") Facebook page. The third hour meeting ended and I walked out the door on my last day. End of story. Three bishops, five counselors, and seven high councilors later my time in the ward had come to an end. Twice I endured the Chalice of Destiny, but no glass was to be raised this day. It was almost perversely amusing.

In saying all this, please to not think I wanted some sort of fanfare on my last day. Far from it. I belonged to the apartment that sat in sacrament meeting with one-chair gaps between us so that no one could sit by us. It gives me the willies to have some glad-handing man in a suit sitting next to me out of a sense of duty. Truth be told, I almost take great pride in being under the radar, in being totally unknown. I do not want you and your social church all up in my face. I find satisfaction in having someone come up to me and ask me if I'm new. (I still got that, even near "the end.") But as I was sitting at home after my last time in that ward, I realized that really I had made no impact in that ward. I went to church for church's sake. I did my calling in the same manner. And it meant nothing in a sense. This is a horribly pessimistic view, but it was odd to realize how little of an impact you can have in four years.

In the first few years in that ward, I made myself more visible from a social standpoint. However I slowly began to see that I just could not dance the dance. My people consistently did not fit in as it pertained to the social church.  This was a realization on a larger scale than just this one ward. The ward itself had little to do with the conclusion that I did not know the social dance steps. It really could have been almost any singles ward. It was just one slice of the wholistic pie.

Let me also add at this point that there were some leaders and ward members that I felt knew me. Not just my name and major, but me. These people made an actual difference. Many of these people (including some readers of the blog) came to my mind. These were people who actually cared. I am thankful for them. However, I could never quite shake the overall feeling of being just a name on a page. I was just one more person to delete from the ward Facebook page at the end of the semester (Too bad I'm not a cute girl, then I would have been given emeritus status. Yes. I am going to call you on that Bubba Fwench.....anyway.)

All of this made me ask why I go to a singles ward. I honestly hate socializing. I hate socialites being all up on me, faking that they care. Nine plus years of wearing the YSA (Young Single Adult) badge has taught me that. Sure, I sometimes went to ward activities and talked to people. Oftentimes ward members would actually reply. But I usually just felt we were playing a recreational game of Spades. We did not care about the outcome, it was just something to do while we waited for the true excitement to start. Once people realized I was not playing with a full deck socially, they just sort of dealt me out. Their spin cycle sent me to the outside. 

Now again, I am not necessarily looking to fit in. And maybe that is the whole point. I do not even want to be part of the singles ward game. I do not know the rules and I keep getting passed the jinx. 

All of this is much more of a personal or internal problem than an issue with any specific singles ward. What I say next can be applied broadly and is certainly not specific to one ward or even singles wards alone. There are lots of "family wards" that have good ol' boys clubs and cliques, blah, blah, blah, so on and so forth.

I have long wanted to know how I can get more out of the block of meetings at church and also how I can give more. Especially how I can give more in a way that is meaningful to the greater cause, ways of making a true difference. Yet I searched for all my years in those singles wards and never really found my place. Naturally much of this is "my own fault." I never was good at "reaching out" (which has become an official social church platitude). I never even really desired to reach out. The onus was on me to make an impact and I did not. Sure, I get that. But there also is an aspect of me that wants to point out that there needs to be avenues for people to contribute in ways beyond "fellowshipping" and glad handing. We need ways that people can make a positive impact even if they do not come to every flippin' Slip 'n Slide activity. (I am not trying to bash on Slip 'n Slide activities. I highly enjoyed the ones I went to. But I did not see them as "fellowshipping" activities. Sorry. Our doctrine is not one of slippery plastic on a hill).

From my view, the propagators of the Slip 'n Slide gospel were sometimes given an almost elevated status in the ward. These were the "fun" people, the people that the leaders invited over for special activities at their house. These were the people who got an honorary announcement in church when they moved out of the ward. We need more than "fun" in church. Again, fun is not bad. It just is insufficient as a doctrine of salvation.

Now sure, I like enjoyment as much as the next guy, but there comes a point where we need to recognize that we need more than gregarious greeters at the doors and in the pews. This is perhaps a view of iconoclasm, but we really do not need people who only come to church to be a socialite. Why is it that the callings of greatest ascendancy are ofttimes those connected with the social church, while the Sunday School president and the Temple & Family History coordinators are shown a seat on the back row of leadership meetings? (Not to say anything about how much they are even allowed to speak in these meetings). Perhaps we got it all wrong. More than once I was told that my calling "mattered," yet I was shown that it didn't. Time and money talk. Enough said.  

Much of what I disliked about singles wards was the saccharin facade. We were (and are) all a bunch of fakers. That's pretty much what I have been taught about how to act in those wards. You have to go in and fake like you are someone's friend, fake that you care about their life, fake like you don't notice that they are faking. Most of the time I really did try. I tried to care. But there still was an element of "fake" involved. Again, this is the pessimism speaking, but most of what I did in those singles wards was fake. 

Some people successfully make an impact in the venue of singles wards. That is positive and good. If you are such a person, I really am glad you were able to find that connection. Honestly, I am. Some of my all time favorite people were also movers and shakers in their singles wards. Yet for whatever reason, I just could never really find any traction in the singles wards I was in. There was a whole lot of wheel spinning and mud flinging, but it never really moved me down the road. At the end of my time in these YSA wards I hopped out of the jeep and realized I had gone 14 feet. Just under five yards was all I had to show for nine years of petrol consumption.

Some local menfolk (both single).

Okay, maybe we are getting lost in the metaphor.......

Let me close these posts on singles wards by saying that I am of course aware that most people are seeking to do their best. We see different ways to climb the hill. I guess I can allow that. Although, let's face it, if I truly accepted this whole stuff about "everyone's trying" then I would not be writing this blog. The very essence of this blog is the concept that I and my people are better at life than the general laity. That is the whole point of the blog: superiority at life. But I will try to keep in mind that we all have our strengths and weaknesses. However, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more.

Singles Wards: Segundo.

Old Dan Tuker was a fine old man
Washed his face in a fryin' pan
Combed his hair with a wagon wheel
And died with a toothache in his heal

Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker
You're to late to get your supper
Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker
You're to late to get your supper

Now Old Dan Tucker come to town
Ridin' a billy goat, leadin' a hound
The hound dog barked and billy goat jumped
And landed old Tucker on a stump

Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker
You're to late to get your supper
Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker
You're to late to get your supper

~Attr. Daniel Decatur "Dan" Emmett

Hey Baby. Who's your dream boat?

This is a hate hard post. Be warned. Let me also add, however, that this may honestly be the last hate post I ever write. Okay, next week could also be a hater post. But not as severe, since I have pillaged the entire village and have decided to take my (in)abilities in advocacy elsewhere. But probably not to South Beach. I am afraid I would commit some sort of fashion faux pas.

Pure Frump: Brown Uggs on Black Pants.

As promised last week, I am going to be addressing what I call the "date-n-mate" (DNM) doctrine. I know that this is a rather coarse term for it, but it describes the whole concept rather well. The only way you can find your spouse is through a deterministic system of dating, and the only reason you need a spouse is for the bearing of children. Date and mate. That's the program. I am also aware that most of you probably want me to shut up about this and just let it go. But I enjoy complaining, so here you go, an ungraceful glissade down to the Pit of Whine and Complain.

In my time in singles wards, I have learned that DNM is a common theme (Obvious). Hence the reason I burn down the house on the topic of dating rather often. One can only have their worthiness questioned in relation to DNM so many times before you become embittered.

Although, maybe I am just easily embittered. Go back and read the multiplicity of hate hard posts about the dative paradigm if you want to see this in action.

Early in my career as a "young single adult," I had singles wards with dating quotas, which I categorically disagree with. Perhaps this is why I currently am unmarried. Although, let me add, there were several people who also did not like the quotas and they are currently married. The Beast was not exactly a fan as I remember.

I felt that the quota and intense ecclesiastical pressure to get married led to poor decisions by all parties involved. Church each week could not be considered successful until someone had given a laydown about dating. So much of your worthiness was based on how social you were on the weekend and how many girls you flung with. I know I talk a lot about this topic, but it was frustrating to reach a point where I hated going to church. It was an honest to goodness waste of time.  Ultimately, it was men in their 50s bullying men in their 20s. I do not go to church to be mocked and denigrated. Sorry, but I don't. Having seven daughters does not give you license to mock single men over the pulpit in church.

I have related before some of my experiences with the quotas and general singles ward dating and will not go on and on. All I will say is that true doctrine twisted and misapplied loses its validity. And dating is not a doctrine to begin with, so......yeah.* It does not matter how vociferously you demand it be heard, it's still false. True doctrine is not taught by bullying and belittling, regardless of how good you think your motives are.

Honestly, this is when I became hard. A kicked dog bites.

Now this is of course an awful set of stories to tell and I should probably just let it go.

But perhaps remember the disclaimer here. And we do not do ourselves one bit of good by pretending that it was okay. No. It wasn't okay. I am just going to call a spade a spade here. 

I saw nothing positive come from the repeated goading and shaming. None of us were inspired to do better. No one walked away from the beat downs and dating firesides saying "I am going to change my ways. I need to repent. That was true doctrine." We walked away saying "Oh, they think we are losers. I am an awful person. What a waste of my time." Keep in mind that the members of my singles wards were not unrighteous low-lifes, just wandering around in life. The high majority of people in these wards were in college and seeking to go somewhere in life. I am well aware of the high density of low-life menfolk in certain areas. I saw some of these people while making my rounds in singles wards. However, I was always surprised that people could not see the obvious difference between the men in my singles ward and the hypothetical low-life men of a straw man ward.

The men of my ward (and I think the young ladies as well) were forced into aggressive and unwise dating patterns. It created a cattle auction atmosphere. 

A cattle auction I once attended.

More than once I tried to fulfill the quota with unwise dating decisions. And I was not the only one. The whole "She rages like the sea" incident taught us that. (For those of you who know what that refers to).

Honestly, I do not even really care about myself here. The thing I care about more is the duress that the date-n-maters pushed my people and friends through. It just wasn't right. Some of these proponents of DNM were just honestly confused people. They were trying their best to teach correct principles and just did not posses a fine enough filter to know to whom their counsel aggressive dating counsel should apply. They were guilty of the transgression of being out of touch with the fact that not every man in the Church is a video game playing porn addict.

But there were others who......I just don't know. It is not my place to ultimately judge the motives of these men. Let me just culminate this story by saying that I do not care how rich, handsome, or suave you are; you just cannot belittle my friends like that. People with positive motives don't talk that way. I will say no more about that.

---

* I am well aware of what Robert D. Hales said last week. Honestly I think he was talking about an entirely different type of dating, something that has been perverted into some deranged sort of princess worship and gamesmanship. And notice how Elder Hales presented what he had to say. Did you see how he did it without mocking people? Any questions?