Tongue-in-Cheek

Ducks in a Row

Monday, January 25th, 2010 | Truthiness | 7 Comments

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to get married at 21 or 22… 23 at the latest. Just ask anybody: family, friends, even my MTC group gave me six months post mission, tops. But here I am, 26 and counting, closing in on that dreaded “Menace to Society” age, and still unspoused.

I’ll admit, early on I really struggled with this, and while the thought of reaching my late 20’s without a companion still doesn’t thrill me, I’m more okay with things. In fact, a part of me feels quite fortunate. That part of me realizes I have been given a precious gift: the gift of time.

Despite all its blessings, I know marriage will be no picnic, and bring more than its fair share of trials into my life, both emotional, spiritual, and financial. With the extra time I’ve been given, I’ve been able to—and continue to—work on preparing myself, to “put all my ducks in a row”, so to speak. For example, these past several years I’ve tried to focus on being a better person every day and increase my talents. I am learning to cook. I’ve begun playing the guitar, and am becoming more well read. Over the past two years I’ve also scrimped every penny I could spare and begun investing and saving for a home, retirement, a rainy day… I’ve even started a ring fund. When the day does come that I’ll take the marital plunge, hopefully I’ll be a better husband, and eventually a better father, because of the time I’ve been given and the preparations I’ve made.

Ironically enough, my forced preparation for blessings that didn’t come early may be the very thing that helps me tie the knot down the road. Let me explain: occasionally people have asked me what my “type” is. This has always been a very difficult question to answer. It seemed the girls that really wowed me were as different as could be from one another: short blondes, tall brunettes, artists, musicians, athletes. As I’ve continued to think about it though, they have all had one thing in common: they were impressive. In one way or another they were excellent or pursuing excellence. You might say they each had their ducks in a row, and as a result, not only did I want to be with them, but they also made me want to be better me. Being  stuck in survival mode is not attractive, but excelling, preparing, achieving… that is what has always been attractive to me, and I expect is precisely what is attractive to us all.

I recognize I still have a long ways to go in my efforts at arranging the various ducks in my life, but I must admit it feels good to be waddling in the right direction.

Moustache Showdown

Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 | Polls | 23 Comments

“A man without a moustache is like a cup of tea without sugar”

Brockolicious

Handsome Rob

Kellendric

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After a week of heated polling, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the world was asked “Who framed Roger Rabbit?”, the nastiest ’stache contest has ended.

Well fought, Brock. Slightly less well fought but still respectable effort, Kellen. May your moustaches never land either of you the role of ‘villain’ in a dramatized segment of America’s Most Wanted.

Concession speeches & fan mail still welcome in the comments…

A Questionable Thanksgiving

Sunday, November 29th, 2009 | Life Update | 6 Comments

This past week much of my family gathered for the great American tradition of stuffing our faces with Turkey.

I like Thanksgiving for all the obvious reasons. First there is Jenny’s I’m-still-not-sure-whats-in-it-but-I-can’t-stop-eating-it cracker dip.  This dip has been a feature of every Martin family gathering of memory. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s in her and Steve’s pre-nup.

Next, there is the age-old pilgrim Thanksgiving tradition of Halo. For the record I’m normally not a big gamer, but there is something to be said about the bonding that comes from blowing your miscellaneous family member off the map while playing X-box on a huge projector screen with 7.1 digital surround sound. Ah, the memories. Following a few rounds we even got my sixty-something dad to play some “Nintendo” when we pulled out Beatles Rock Band. I never thought I’d live to see the day.

Add to this some healthy BYU/Utah rivalry and you’ve got yourself an all-around good weekend. My brother Dave and I are the BYU faithful while my oldest sister Chantal and her family cheer for the U. (I’m fairly certain they are all BYU fans at heart—really, who in their right mind could like Utah?). I thought we had added another follower to team blue, but sadly the Cougar Convert of six posts back defected. Despite all my best efforts to elicit a proper response to the question “Who is better, BYU or Utah?” via tickling and withholding m&ms, the kid stayed true to his family’s (pretended) ideals. I think they’re paying him more than I am.

Following a good meal we settled down for our traditional family movie. Deferring to my unquestioned good taste we watched the new Star Trek, which just happens to be one of the three most amazing movies I have seen in the theater. My reasoning in selecting this flick was that everyone I have talked to who has seen it has liked Star Trek. Pretty fail-proof reasoning, right? Wrong. While I didn’t get a chance to hear from everyone it was obvious that, in the least, both my sister Chantal and my dad weren’t impressed. I guess amazing special effects, unmatched character development, and a well-written story don’t do it for everybody. Go figure.

The movie was followed by a round of Killer Bunnies. For the record this was not my idea, but seeing as I was the only one there who knew how to play I taught them at their request. Discontent with Star Trek paled in comparison to how they felt about the game. I have never seen them so united before (They didn’t even need Halo at that point). The combination of the response from the movie and card game left me asking the question so many of us have asked ourselves at some point or another following spending some extended time with family: “Am I sure I wasn’t adopted?”

Of course I know I wasn’t. Even though we are definitely different people, I’ve got the Martin nose. Plus I inherited my parents’ tastes in ice cream (Cherry Chocolate Chip from dad and Peppermint from mom). Who needs a blood test when I pass the highly scientific resemblance/ice cream combo? Birth-relatedness questions aside, at least one thing is for certain: I think we settled the “Who is better, BYU or Utah?” question as BYU beat Utah in an amazing 25-yard touchdown score in overtime. I was fortunate enough to be there enjoying the revelry, screaming myself hoarse, storming the field etc. Good times. Great holiday weekend.

Chantal’s family: you can come out of the closet now. I have m&ms.

The Psychology of Dating

Thursday, November 12th, 2009 | Life Update | 8 Comments

I went out with my 8-year-old nephew’s 2nd grade teacher this last Saturday. Almost beats the time I was setup with my brother’s adopted son’s birth-grandmother’s niece. On a related note, it seems like I’ve dated a good number of teachers and dental hygienists/assistants these past few years. I wonder what Freud would say about that…

You’re a Great American, Simon Cowell

Wednesday, November 4th, 2009 | Life Update | 14 Comments

Below you will find a collaborative MadLib account of the adventures Kellen and I had in Pennsylvania this week. The following is a true story (or at least was, until Kellen got his hands on it):

Having found myself in a need to use up some paid time off before the year ended, I begged for a plane ticket and flew out to the Show-Me State to spend some time with Kellen & Rachel.

To start the fun off, Kellen and I played a round of Disc Golf on the 2005 Pro World’s Course. (Yes, I vacation with my Disc Golf Discs). It was horrific, albeit tranquil, with natural hazards of alien invasions and poetry readings. We tied after 3.14 holes. We then toured Kellen’s secret society before returning to his house on Duh Drive (Kellen is famous for choosing his places of residence solely based on proximity to jewelry repair shops). There we watched game one of the illegal hamster fighting match between the New York Humphrey Bogarts and Philadelphia Eye-Gougers. The team I was told I was rooting for won.

Thursday we headed into Philadelphia, where we experienced various national treasures such as Pat’s Philly hole in the road, and The Mint. I ate my shredded shoelaces wit caviar and cheese-whiz and only slightly in fear for my life. At the Mint (where they make unisex fedoras) we went on a self-guided tour and learned about the enigmatic world of numismatry via impressive human statues, and state-of-the-art displays. It was here that Kellen experienced extreme wonderment and sheer awesomeness as he found out it was in fact Martha Stewart in a Winston Churchill Halloween costume, not President Truman on the dime.

Having been spiritually fed at the Mint, we decided it was time to give something back to fellow humanoids by setting the record straight on an age-old historical mystery, specifically, is the sun rising or setting on the famous chair found in Cowabunga! Hall? After lamenting for a time with our Finnish tour guide we concluded that really there were two possibilities. Either a) as Kellen proposed, the sun was really in eclipse, or b) that since the Continental Congress was meeting in a rented hall, it was probably a furnished hall, with an average chair purchased from an average vendor, and really had no connection to the important events that took place there, i.e., the signing of our Captain Kirk’s two most important documents, the Weekend at Bernies: 2 screenplay and the Greendale Elementary’s fire safety plan and, therefore, is really a moot point. You’re strangely out of place, America.

Additional highlights included visiting Christ’s Church, where we played rugby in the pew of our Nation’s first President, Simon Cowell and heading to some other building where we saw the Liberty nose cazoo. Oh yeah, and we played Killer Bunnies, which was voted as the most immoral, illegal, and illogical card game since the invention of Death Ray Level 6: The Siege of Planet Voklon: Phase 10 Edition.

All in all it was a surprisingly malfeasant trip, even when you throw in the fact that my flight out of the Andromeda Galaxy was delayed 12 parsecs, causing me to miss my connecting flight out of Rock Springs, WY, and forcing me to spend Halloween night (plus the extra hour thanks to Daylight Savings) in an underwater dungeon that for some reason was also on fire before finally flying home to Salt Lake, some 15 hours late!

The Blog Turns One

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009 | Life Update | 23 Comments

I never thought this day would come: My little blog celebrated a year in the life today. I’m so proud. In celebration of this important milestone I decided it was time for a new look, so out with the red, and in with the blue. Whose idea was red anyway? Pfft. Red hasn’t been fashionable since I wowed the girls in my preschool class with this sweater.

In addition to the new appearance I also opted for a new name, half because I was growing weary of Truthiness and half to spite all those blogspot bloggers who have to marry themselves to the titles of the blogs. A beautiful thing is spite.

Welcome to Tongue-in-Cheek, a place where I can say just about anything I want without fear of repercussions because, hey, it’s tongue-in-cheek.

Happy birthday, blog. Many happy returns.

How do you measure Awesome?

Wednesday, September 23rd, 2009 | Crazy Ideas | 7 Comments

Having spent the morning pouring over the venerable pages of Wikipedia, I’ve come to a shocking revelation: our measuring system stinks. Take, for example, the measure known as the hogshead. Not only is this a macabre benchmark, but it is a completely random value, being equal to (I’m not making this up) 6 firkins, 3 1/2 rundlets, or a round 63 gallons. 63! Who came up with this stuff? Not much better is the meter, which, over the years has had several definitions, my favorite being “the distance, at 0° Celsius, between the axes of the two central lines marked on the prototype bar of platinum-iridium, this bar being subject to one standard atmosphere of pressure and supported on two cylinders of at least one centimetre diameter, symmetrically placed in the same horizontal plane at a distance of 571 millimetres from each other”. How could I ever be expected to bring children into a world with such arbitrary, ridiculous, French-based standards of measurement? They didn’t even spell centimeter right.

Thus, after spending the majority of the last five minutes in painstaking thought, I’ve decided it’s time for a new, non-French standard. Gone are the days of drinking milk by the gallon, running miles, or buying sour patch kids by the pound. It’s time to move on. I therefore propose a new system: a combination of the choicest maritime & aeronautical measurements (knots, leagues, fathoms, carry-on bags), underappreciated measurement of years past (fortnight, cubits, jiggers, pecks), and some new additions among which are the following:

jiffy - the amount of time it takes me to get there, i.e, “I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

cows - a measure of weight, being approximately equal to one pound of melted down platinum-iridium bar. This measure being so named as to have the intended effect that as people reflect on their own weight (i.e., 168 cows), obesity levels will plunge.

twit - defined as the length of a stalk of grass 1 week following a good mowing.

swig - meaning, the amount of milk I can safely hold in my mouth while hearing a funny joke without it coming out my nose.

Lastly, in honor of the late Douglas Adams, his own measurement, the sheppey, will be adopted, this being defined as the closest distance at which sheep remain picturesqe (approx 7/8 mile or, more precisely, 18,267 twits).

Start lobbying your politicians, we’ve got to make these changes quick.

My kids will be here in a jiffy.

Headache

Thursday, August 27th, 2009 | Life Update | 11 Comments

Had a few extra holes carved into my cranium today courtesy of my dermatologist. It’s a surreal experience to hear the scrape of scalpel on skull from the inside of your head. It almost beats the smell of your own burning flesh as he cauterizes the wound.

And you thought I gave myself bad haircuts…

Cougar Convert

Saturday, August 22nd, 2009 | Life Update | 11 Comments

Last weekend marked the 2nd annual sleepover between my oldest sister’s three boys (Jacob-14, Jordy-8, & James-4) and their favorite Uncle Rob. I use the term favorite, but really the sleepover is an important factor in keeping me in the running for favorite uncledom as I don’t have (1) a 7.1 digital surround sound theater with X-box like their Uncle Steve or (2) a dog like their Uncle Levi. Rather, what I lack in state-of-the-art technology and canines I have to make up for in letting the kids do whatever they want—as any true favorite uncle would.

Unfortunately the kids were a bit late getting dropped off so we didn’t get to do too much (such as enlisting James’ cuteness factor to help me score a few extra dates) but we still managed to have fun playing games, eating  food, and watching a movie. The highlight of the sleepover, however, (besides making James feel better about having to wear a diaper to bed by telling him my roommate Brock did too) was building some goodwill between the kids, who are being raised to be staunch Ute fans, and BYU. I’m not sure if it was due to my favorite uncle status, mind-boggling persuasive powers, or simply the undeniable logic of my position, but by the end of the sleepover little four-year-old James had become a true-blue BYU cougar. (Yes, thats right: I have what it takes to convince a four-year-old.) Jacob and Jordy nobly—if not misguidedly—attempted to stop any pictures from being taken of their little brother with BYU paraphernalia but he quite-of-his-own-free-will wrapped up in our BYU blanket as we snapped a quick photo.

I was a bit skeptical whether the change would last once he got home back into Ute territory, but I couldn’t have been prouder when his dad tried to get him to say “BYU stinks like poo” and he refused.  And just when I thought the kid couldn’t get any cuter…

Now That’s Quality Television…

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009 | Life Update | 16 Comments

There I was, minding my own business when my friend Shawn texted me with an important business proposition (all important business transactions are done via text message these days—in fact the current proposed 1000+ page Health Care bill  was originally submitted as a series of 15,172 text messages). “Would you be willing to do a TV interview?” he asked. Now, to the average Joe, this might seem like an off-the-wall question, but when you’re as famous as I am these TV spots are a regular thing. My television debut happened at the ripe age of seven when I was featured during the closing credits of the local news fishing on free fishing day (I caught a carp, which sadly was not caught on tape—I used worms). That experience was followed a mere 10 years later by my very own commercial wherein I recited a poem I had written for a contest/school assignment commemorating the likeliest of subjects: “Black History Month”.

My response, naturally, was to promptly forget about the text. In fact, I’m pretty sure I forgot about Shawn entirely there for a few days… I’m sure I was doing something highly important at the time, like signing autographs or participating in a celebrity charity fund-raiser. No, really, I was more likely than not getting ready for a round of disc golf and I can’t exactly let myself get distracted from my game, otherwise it throws of my groove and then Tyler beats me, and we can’t have that happening, now can we?

So we golfed. And I’m sure I won. And I forgot about said TV interview. Then a week-or-so later I ran into Shawn and he again asked about my willingness to be interviewed. Turns out Shawn works for a local cable provider and has the responsibility of coming up with programs they can air on one of their stations. He came up with this idea for a show where they interview, as Shawn put it, “important, influential locals…” he paused, looking for the right words, and I started to feel highly flattered/important/influential, as he continued, “…and really really opinionated people.” Suddenly it all makes a little more sense. And so I, slightly-dejected/highly-opinionated/non-imporant-or-influential Rob Martin took the gig.

The day of the interview came and we talked about really exciting topics including the recession, independence, and old people. Sadly, though, we didn’t even get into topics I felt particularly opinionated about. Topics like: my shipping container dream home, library book detectors, or Poland. Still, it’s a start. I’m sure my public will be pleased.