Jack Should Totally Set A Perimeter Around the Smoke Monster

Within 24 hours my two favorite current TV shows came to an end this week.  I was devastated to see the Celebrity Bachelor Loser Amazing Race While Dancing end its season.  Actually, you probably know that I’m talking about Lost and 24.  I’m sad to see their runs end, but it certainly was time…  We’ve seen enough of Jack suffering in both shows.

I must pay tribute to my friend, Dave, who endured sitting with me through 4.5 hours of Lost and then a couple more of the Jack Bauer Power Hour.  I’ll have to check, but I think after that much time together we have a common-law marriage or something.  But it was fun to chat it up during the shows.  The Mrs HTF has joined me for Lost this season, which has been awesome.  But, I did spend a lot of time trying to answer questions to get her caught up on the show.  I found that you could just answer most questions with “You just have to understand the Flash-Sideways to get that.”  For the most part I didn’t have many understandable answers, but I admire her for jumping in with both feet this season.  She even teared-up a few times, which, if you know my wife, registers on the Surprise Meter about as much as a news article about a politician who tell lies.  The girl is a, um, quick-crier.  For you guys out there, you know that this is the equivalent of a nuclear bomb if there’s ever a disagreement.  The tears come, and I know for sure that, however sound my logic may have been, I’m not only dead-wrong, but I’m pretty much evil to the core (yeah, I’m a bald smoke monster who works in Finance).  Anyway, I loved Lost and will miss the show.

24 is a bit more like an addiction than a TV show.  After each episode I find myself shivering (true fact – Dave covered me up with a blanket during the finale last night) and as wide awake as I could possible be.  It’s remarkably like the cold plunge at the Russian Spa.  And then, I have to come back for more to get my fix.  Each season got more and more unbelievable, but I don’t care much about that.  I had to see more and more.  Traci never really watched 24 with me, because, well, it’s 24 and, uh, a tad bit violent.  In much the same way that Antarctica is a tad bit cold.  So I usually would watch this show by myself late at night – not the best of plans…  But I’ll miss Jack getting things uploaded to his PDA, setting perimeters, shooting people in the thigh, and getting visuals on bad guys (as opposed to just seeing them).

Before these shows started I had ONE child, and well, life was different.  For instance I was 6’4” and had a marvelous weave in my hair.  Anyway, I’ll miss those shows, but will probably get a bit more sleep…unless I start thinking about how FREAKIN’ AWESOME it would be to have Jack Bauer on that stupid island instead of Jack Shepard…  Who wouldn’t watch that show?!

Roughin’ It and Flaming Sticks of Fun

Last weekend the Pope boys put on our Mountain Man personas and went camping.  (I define “Mountain Man” as a guy who has both thumbs at least 10 feet away from an electronic device AND has removed things that make noise from his ears that weren’t there when he was born)  It was the annual church Fathers & Sons Campout, which should be called – Fathers Set Up Tents and See Their Sons Sometime the Next Day Campout.  There was much burning of stuff, some of which was actual wood.  I observed one little guy, who we’ll call BJ, who clearly has a career as a Fireman Trainer Dude and/or Arsonist.  Somehow, in all his 5-year-old glory he knew precisely how to stoke the fire so that it would singe anyone standing nearby.  This was a much-admired skill, and not necessarily one possessed by all the impressed adults males (me).  During the 8 hour long marshmallow roast I marveled that we were so at ease with 3-foot tall people running around millimeters from the fire with flaming, pointed sticks.  Nobody would’ve been surprised to see some HOT puncture wounds – but I think most everyone survived. 

My own boys avoided me completely and did hyper-complex boy games in the woods like, “Let’s see if we can hit Charlie and/or Jimmy with a rock.”  My oldest didn’t even sleep in our tent, choosing the safety of the minivan instead.  Which was good because he was a least partially shielded from snoring that, and I’m not making this up, had some of us wondering if Bigfoot was having a family reunion in our campground and was ticked off after having lost the family raffle.  As an aside – why women (particularly the Mrs. HTF) marry guys is beyond me… I’m going with pity or some sort of masochism thing….

I will say I had a great time, and I think my boys did too, but I haven’t seen them since we got to the campground…

PS- I suggest you take a quick read at the post from last year’s adventure, as featured on MormonTimes.  (yeah, I was pretty geeked about that part…)

As Seen At The Rock Show – The Return of HTF

I’ve been to a few concerts, which hasn’t automatically made me cool, much to my dismay.  At first I thought just being present would instantly increase my mojo.  In actuality, it often feels more like my presence there is simply tolerated by the cool people AND their tattoos.  The vast majority of my head-boppin’ to loud music has happened in the shower at my brothers’ rock concerts.  A few weeks ago I saw Spoon play two nights in a row here in the Sea-Town.  I’ve seen ‘em play quite a few times, so I kinda did a lot of people watching instead of focusing too hard on the band.  As I looked around and thought about the interesting crowds I’ve seen at other shows, a few “categories” of concert goers formed in my wandering mind.  Here are a few:

• The tall guy in the front row who so intently and passionately sings every word that it’s like he’s proposing to the band in song.  If I were in the band I’d be kinda scared of this guy…  And right next to him is…
• The girl who just STARES at the band.  There’s no movement, no facial expressions, nothing.  It’s like she’s in a bad Sandra Bullock movie where if she takes her eyes off the band or shows emotion of any sort her pants will explode.
• The girl who has come with her date, but the guy refuses to get up and dance with her.  For the first few songs she actually tries to lift him up out of his seat.  By song 3 she gives up but just dances wildly by herself.  On song 5, which is always a popular one, he begrudgingly stands up cuz he realizes he’s like the only one still sitting and he knows he has some ground to make up with his lady-friend.  She, of course, takes this as a sign that he wants to dance with her, so she turns her moves towards him.  He’s trapped now.  So he waddles a bit and may even nod his head a few times on the down-beat.  He’ll continue this bizarre ritual until the end of the show because he knows that anything less and the date with this girl will probably be his last.
• The girls (and they always travel in packs of 3) who have been drinking heavily and would like everyone around them to know it by demonstrating their off-beat moves which often involve closing their eyes and flipping their hair around like it was on fire or something.
• The guys who came to the show with other dudes and are constantly trying to gauge each other to determine how much movement is macho without being “that guy.”
• The middle aged couple who clearly heard a couple songs on the radio and are trying SO hard to fit in with the younger crowd.  This pair spent more time than any others deciding what to wear while they were in a dark room with total strangers.
• The girl on the balcony who, in spite of the fact that everyone up there is seated, will not be stopped.  She’s on her feet and shakin’ and bakin’.  The guy she’s with (see previous date-scenario description) is clearly mortified and will be leaving to “go to the bathroom” momentarily.
• The short bald guy who is super-proud of his rockin’ brothers and sings along a bit too loud and has mastered the awkward confined space groove.

So next time you’re at show rockin’ out, look around.  Guaranteed you’ll see some or all of these folks.  Rock On and Stuff!