Clear as Mud

You may think that I don't know a butt-load about communication, but I do.

Nelly and I attended a "communications seminar" last week to help keep our marriage in check. It was hosted at our local church and was a smaller class - so that we could keep things intimate. Easy readers! It's not that kind of church!

We were looking forward to this for a few weeks. Nelly always enjoys hearing how much I suck as a husband and always finds new ways to point out flaws. Seminars are grand. I enjoy the free food. I enjoy it so much that we arrived early for the spread. Little did I know that it would be fruit and yogurt. I was OK with my whipped strawberry-banana, low-fat, junior size cup. Nelly was not. She was expecting breakfast pastries. So we got off to a fantastic start with our host, Julius. As my wife notices the lack of morning-baked-goodness, she eyeballs poor young Julius. She decided that it was in her best interest to gracefully communicate her displeasure to our gracious host, "Hey. Where are the donuts? I'm tellin' you straight up, man, if don't get me one...oooooh! Man you're gonna put on a little Evil Knievel suit and sell some dimes and nicks on a Big Wheel. You're gonna get my donut some kinda way!"

Now that everyone knows who we are, we decide to take our seats up front. He had already taken a "Communications Inventory" a few days prior. Some of you may be familiar with Myers-Briggs or the MBTI assessment. The seminar was going to use this as a basis of our communication styles and relate it our marriage and other important relationships. Here are my actual, unaltered results:

 The Extroversion is PEGGED! If you didn't know me, you'd think that I am an Attention Whore! Being "extroverts" was the ONLY thing that Nelly and I had in common. She was, of course, an extrovert to a much lesser degree than me.

For every pairing of letters we had little exercises to complete. I think this was supposed to give us an idea of how the other spouse views the world. What actually happened was that this gave Nelly ammunition to fire at me throughout the day.

We were on the same side of the fence for the E's vs I's....so we just had fun making fun of everyone not in the "cool" group. It didn't last long as we were separated for the the S vs N topic. At this point, an abstract painting is shown to us. I am in a very small group of "N's" and clearly I talk too much so I offered up what I saw. Since I cannot find that pic, I will show you something very similar:

Here is what I see when I look at this painting: I see 2 shaolin monks running up the stairs carved into Wudon Mountain. The sun is setting and they are heading towards a temple that is in the upper left corner. In the middle there is a flying dragon and in the bottom left is death. It seems that they are running to their master for help with some evil or dark thing that is coming to the land. The other mountains in the back are already in the shadows, so they must hurry!

Most people will only see the bright orange seahorse at the bottom....

I gave a similar answer when asked in the class of what I had seen. As the debate goes back and forth, Nelly very calmly raises her hand. This was very conniving on her part. The facilitator makes sure everyone is quiet before Nelly speaks. She says, "All I see is a man too old to be playing kung-fu making up a story about messy painting."

We then move on to the T's vs F's. We are again put into our proper groups. A simple question was posed to both groups: You are heading to a party with a good friend; when the friend shows up at your house he/she is dressed ridiculously - do you tell them?  To me this was a no-brainer. F yes you say something - Are you serious!?! You are NOT wearing that! You need to change...NOW.  Satisfied with my answer, I turn to the person sitting next to me. I confidently say, "Nelly and I always ask that before we leave. She wouldn't let me leave the house looking like a fool..."  I wish I hadn't said that. No sooner do I finish my sentence when Nelly's hand shoots back up. Again the room is hushed. Nelly then looks right at me and says, "I can't say that to Ray. He's too sensitive."

So then....here are things that I learned at our seminar:

1. Nelly is the devil
2. With Nelly, always assume Prison Rules
3. Always bring donuts so Nelly's not in a bad mood

Communication is key people! We are all different and we should take strides to celebrate that fact. Learn balance with your spouse - don't cause friction.

The class was awesome. Many thanks to Byron Ricks for the session and thanks to The Grind for hosting.

It's a Guy Thing

The Fresh Prinze, has been on a roll - he must be butta baby! For being 19 years old, he is very insightful. A few weeks back he began a study on "Marriages of the Bible." The first class was dealing with a passive husband and a controlling wife. The class was great; but I don't want to talk about any of that. I do, however, need to explore something that was said. During the class, the Fresh Prinze caught my attention with this thought:

Every guy has that 1 "chick thing." It can be his hair, or he takes longer to get dressed than his wife...maybe he gets a Brazilian wax...

As I was about to raise my hand on that last point, I looked around and noticed that no one else was in agreement so I sat quietly for the duration. But, this one concept did have me baffled. Do we men really have that "1 chick thing" that the Prinze was so sure about?

I started to really take a look at myself; do an assessment of all that is me. As I looked over all that I am, I was surprised to not be consumed with sheer awesmoness, and I was also struggling to find my "chick thing." I was fairly certain that the young Prinze, with his frosty tips, was onto something...so why was I struggling to find it!? I was driving with Nelly, when I had an epiphany! I knew my "chick thing." In my excitement, I turn to my crazy wife and declare that I have uncovered the 1 chick thing that I have. She looks right at me, eye to eye, and says, "Really Taylor Swift? Tell me about it."

Nelly is the devil.

But she was right. When I looked at my music choice, I noticed my playlist is DOMINATED by Avril Lavigne. When I write, cook, clean, chillax, drive, study, get a brazilian, I am listening to Avril. When I hit the gym, it's all about Brittney. I do dig Taylor Swift - she is more of a cool-down or reflection-of-the-family type music choice. So there it is! I love sugar-pop music! That's my chick thing!

I thought to myself, "Well this ain't so bad. I'm sure other guys have far worse chick things. I bet Julius rocks out to Miranda Cosgrove during his mani pedi sessions."  Pleased with my discovery, I set out to write a great post about the topic. Then the devil stepped in...She says, "Oh PLEASE! You have like 10 chick things!" Before I could tell my loving wife to "get thee behind me," She rattled off a list that she must have composed since hearing the Prinze speak. In no particular order, this is what my adoring wife of somewhere between 7 to 10 years says are my chick things:

1. You loooove Taylor Swift
2. You iron all your clothes
3. You have to make sure that your clothes lay right
4. You change your outfits 10 times before leaving the house
5. You won't mix fragrances 
6. You have underwear for different days of the week
7. You are crazy about your hair

I think that we can all agree that she is crazy and has a skewed view of the world and of my greatness. Here are my thoughts on her list:

1. I don't looooove any one but Nelly. Avril is by far my favorite artist and there is no secret about that
2. I have to keep all this looking good
3. I have to keep all this looking good
4. I DO NOT have outfits. An outfit is a pre-arragned pairing of clothing that cannot be mixed and/or matched with other articles. I have clothes...that may or may not need to be changed before leaving the house...because I have to keep all this looking good.
5. I don't have "fragrances." During the summer I use a "body spritz" and during the winter it's normal cologne or a body spray. I HATE having a foofy lotion smells mixed with either of those...
6. Ok..here we go. I don't generally wear underwear. So she's dead wrong here too. But, I do have specific types of underwear for different activities. Hanes Classic boxer-briefs for athletics; T-back, banana slings for dress pants....yeah....that's about it. Going commando all other times.
7. I don't even have enough hair TO style! I have small tuft up top because she won't allow me to shave my head!

 Now that we have dismissed her false claims, I think we need to look at some other men that we all know. With my keen eye (and a lot of input from Nelly), I have found some others have "chick things" that we may want to take a look at. Here we go!

Zergio: Nelly claims that he has all the same things as me (go figure). He did kick it up a notch in the clothing department: He has his own walk-in closet so that his wife's clothes won't get mixed up with his. He is also the biggest gossip that you will ever meet. Wants all the details and surrounding information so that he can draw his own conclusions. Absolutely loves Chick Flicks.

Isak Adamson: Has a thing about clothes...particularly the way the collar lies. Has a lot to say about home decor. Does the basic chick thing..."It doesn't matter" then gets upset because it, did indeed, matter.

Dusty Gardener: Is a chatty-catty. Drives a minivan. Rents a minivan when he doesn't take his own minivan on trips. Packs enough clothes to last 10 days when we go on a 3-day trip (good thing we have a minivan to get all his luggage in). Deathly afraid of bugs of all sizes. Drinks Arbor Mist (Melon White Zin) to chillax. To kick it up a notch while watching the Cowboys, the drink of choice is Zima (complete with sour apple jolly rancher).

Dallas Jabbawockee: If you look up metrosexual in the wikipedia, his picture should surely be emblazoned throughout  the reading. Shirts are tight and usually a mid-drift. The skinny-jeans are tight enough that you'll know the religious preference of his parents. Hair is perfectly coiffed. An attention whore, but with the added twist of being a tease. He doesn't try clothes on, he models them to make sure the fit just tight enough. He once showed me how to wear a jacket 3 different ways depending on the season. Is an amateur hair stylist as the situation call.  I'm fairly certain that he is on Team Edward.

The Fresh Prinze: What can I say? He has a wiki site devoted to the Cullen Coven. Hair is frosted at the tips and is messy just enough to make it look like no time or attention was put into it, meaning it must be at least 30 minutes to achieve the look - has to be hair paste. He wrote, directed, choreographed, and starred in a rock opera based on The Notebook - he was the young Noah. Asked Julius to be his under study so that the show "could go on."


I really don't believe that any guy has a "chick thing." We all have little quirks and differences and preferences that make us who we are. Sure Dallas has to lie on the bed to get his jeans on; but he can rock that ish. Maybe I have to save Dusty when we see lady bugs, but that's ok with me. Yes I have had debates with the Fresh Prinze about Alice Cullen developing a conscience on her own and how that doesn't really fit - but Twilight is a jacked up book that I will never understand. Yes Zergio refers to me as his BFFAE...that's because I am. Isak has wigged-out when British Indian and Country Cottage styles are mixed in a house; but who doesn't?

This is who we are ladies. And you wouldn't want us any other way.

Life Lessons

My birthday was yesterday and I find myself reflecting on the magnitude that is me. All the accomplishments, the high-fives, the smacked bottoms...ahhhh, my life is BRILLIANT! I was looking through some old trappings from my MHS days (Cavaliers Bitches!) and I came across a very old list tucked away in my peechee folder:

I'm sure that we can all see 1 glaring feature of this list. No, I am not talking about the authenticity that has been verified by (1) the date of "6/93" in the corner or (2) the lines in the paper showing that it has been tucked away, folded, for years. I speak of the the last item on the list. I am still trying to find 1,000 True Fans. I don't blame myself, I am far too talented to not be noticed and admired. I charge you, readers, for this lapse in my legacy! You are not getting the word out and now we all suffer for it. Thanks fans.

But I digress. Today I want to talk to you about some of the things I learned while on this earth. From my humble beginnings in Monctlair, CA (IE REPRESENT!) to my heyday here in the Big D (The Lone Star State) I have had many lessons. Some were very hard learned, while others came just at the right time. Life is that way - ups and downs will be had; it is important that we holdfast to our values and learn the important lessons.

My dad is great man. Many of the lessons that I still hold to today were taught by my Pop. I am almost a whole generation younger than my brother and sister - 9 and 11 years younger than them. I am thankful today that I grew up with old school parents. This means that I grew up with old school values, ethics, morals, and traditions.

I remember when I was about 11 years old sitting at home when my dad came home from a long day of work. He was a land surveyor; back then it meant he was awesome at math and had to carry a lot of equipment in the field. He walked in mentally and physically fatigue. I was a little punk and didn't know any better, so I started to complain that I was hungry. My mom was not home, just me and Pop. He said to give him a minute and he would make me dinner. After about 10 minutes, I kicked up the complaining again. I will never forget what happened next. Pop walks out of his room and walks to the kitchen. As he walks passed me he said "I'm making this for you because I said I would, not because I want to" - that may seem harsh to some of you, but from that day forward I understood what it meant to be a man. If you say you're going to do something, you do it. What ever it takes. You make sure that you keep your word. In those days, sometimes all you had was your word, and if it wasn't good, what did it say about who you are?

As far back as I can remember, my dad always told me that I needed to where "North" was. It was easy for me to determine back then. We lived at the base of the San Bernardino Mountain range. If I was outside, I just needed to find the mountains and I knew that I was facing north. I loved spending time with my dad. We would go all over the Inland Empire, San Gabriel Mountains, San Bernadino Mountains, Los Angeles county and every time he would ask me, "which way is north?" I would look for the mountains and point. He would let me go to job sites with him and he'd unfurl a huge map across the hood of his truck. These maps were massive, even by today's standards. I would look at contour lines, buildings, roads, land marks, etc., and my dad would show me where "north" was on the map. As a kid, I so took this for granted. I didn't even realize what I was being taught at the time. My dad was making sure that no matter where I was in life, that I would always be able to find my way. He gave me something that can never be taken away. Land Navigation in the U.S. Army was easy money. Even today when I look at blueprints and AutoCAD for hours on end, the drawings just make sense. I can be any where on this planet and never feel lost. All because my pop took the time to teach me something so simple. It is very empowering. I'm sure that with the GPS enabled phones, people don't understand the magnitude of this. You will when you're driving in a major city on a cloudy day :)

Every summer and every weekend, my dad would walk in to my room at 7AM and ask me if I was going to sleep in all day. That simply meant that there was a job to do and I was meant to do it. It would be worse if he left before I woke up. My dad is all about manual labor building character (I used this with Bobert Creamer a few times). Once he left me a letter when I was maybe 14 years old:

FIX THE FENCE. BUCKET OF NAILS AND HAMMER ARE OUTSIDE.
-DAD

I had my Lucky Charms and went out back. There was an old coffee can of old rusted nails, an old hammer from when my dad was 14, and a huge pile of wood slats that I needed to get up. That was my dad. We would buy him new tools, electric tools, fancy tools... but he just used what he had and I did the same. He always made sure that I had what I needed to accomplish my job. He would show me how to do it first, then would watch me for a minute, then I was off to take on the world. Even then, he was teaching me about life. I may make a mistake here and there, but he had taught me right and trusted me. He also taught me that as long as I was going to be at his house that there was plenty of work to go around.

I thank you, Pop, for molding me into who I am today. The world thanks you, without you my greatness would never have been. What kind of sad place would this be? No worries, Pop. I'll handle this one for you! You're Welcome Cyberspace - Happy Birthday to me!

Attention Whore vs Drama Queen vs Master Baiter

The great philosophizer Jack G. Gargoylewitz IX said it best: People dont want ambiguity!!! they want to be recognized!!!!

Aside from bad punctuation, I believe that he is correct. Take yours truly for example. I have been on a campaign to be famous for some time now. I want the masses to greet me with a knowing smile and a nod of approval....of my GREATNESS. My quest for fame is to add something to this world. People should equate my name (or likeness) with "the voice of our generation." I'm here to spread the laughter one post a time - webisodes are under development.

Does this make me an "Attention Whore?" Shit yes it does. To me, an Attention Whore is someone that loves the limelight and is totally comfortable with all eyes on him/her. This person understands who they really are at the core and are ready to share it for the betterment of the world. The Attention Whore seeks to be seen, heard, talked about, to be the topic of rumors, etc. Some use their looks to accomplish this (Kim Kardashian), others have real talent (Superman), some pretend to have talent (Brittney Spears), and some are just deserving (me). In my world, the Attention Whore is not really doing anything bad; they want to share who they are with everyone that may look their direction. They have confidence in their looks, talent, fake talent, or just sheer awesomeness. I like these people! Say what you will, but everyone reading this post knows the list of people that I just laid out. They aren't putting others down to get attention. They are not fishing for compliments.

What I don't like is the Drama Queen. Sure, we can call them "Drama Kings" too; but I think it's funnier to call dudes "Queens," so we will stick with it. Drama Queens come in ALL FLAVORS. They are life-force-sucking people - like a weird Jedi/Vampire combo. They can find the worst in all situations - much like the "sour puss" from work, but the Drama Queen can find the suckitude in everyday life....and they never tire of talking about it. Please DO NOT confuse these people with the Attention Whore. They are whoring themselves out, true, but not for the attention. They want to contaminate the world with their bad attitude. The Drama Queen that I absolutely abhor is the Gym Kitten. We all know her. She is the one with the painted on work-out pants with "Smack It" stitched over the derriere (she may opt to wear the ultra small shorts), a shirt cut up to show off the boobage and toned, tanned torso,  hair done in naughty piggy tails, AND A HAT PULLED DOWN OVER HER EYES.....If I walked into the office all oiled up in euro-cut speedos while wearing glasses, I wouldn't expect anyone to comment on my horn-rims. If you are dressed to show the world your goods and services, don't be offended when people notice. The low pulled hat does not mean you don't want people looking at you when you show up wearing pasties and a thong. You know who you are; men know who you are; and yes, women know who you are and they also don't like this type of Drama Queen. We all know some sort of Drama Queen and we work to avoid him/her. There is no such thing as casual conversation with these people. Unlike the Attention Whore that talks about themselves, the Drama Queen can rattle off 15 topics (none of which are their faults or can be fixed) to drown  you with. If you can't think of one.....bad news....it's you.

It may surprise you to know that woman, by far, out number men in the Master Baiter category. Let me give you a quick example: I'm gonna go swimming...I don't want to be wearing a bikini with all these 20 year olds around. Sure thing Brooke Burke! Sound familiar? How about "I just threw something together...let me know if it tastes bad." You got it Gordon Ramsey! I, of course, am talking about the fisher of compliments. The Master Baiter is very crafty in how they extract niceties from people. They know that they are great at what they do or how they look (which I don't have an issue with) but they seek to be complimented...THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY TO PRETEND TO BE SURPRISED WHEN COMPLIMENTED! Are they whoring themselves out? Absolutely. Are they bettering the world or putting others down? No. They are feeding on the words that people throw at them. I'm not talking about people with real insecurities. I'm talking about people that absolutely know their worth, but feel compelled to validate it. Could you really see me saying "Oh...I just threw this post up...let me know if it's good...not really sure about it.." OH HELL NO! This is what I say "Read this. You will be in awe of my greatness. You must then share this greatness with anyone that knows you. And with some that you don't know. Because I am greatness. The world deserves to read this post. Go forth and with this post do my greatness."  That is what I would say.

Deuces Wild

We have found ourselves in the middle of a war, gentlemen. The battle lines have been drawn and we need to choose sides. There will be casualties...Oh, there MUST be casualties. I am speaking about bathroom etiquette, or lack of, that is displayed in America today. Gone are the days when we can just walk into a public/group restroom and handle business without a second thought. The things that we have taken for granted have been turned on their heads. This may very well lead to the moral demise of a once might nation: Man Land.

I have noticed an alarming increase in the number of bathroom conversations. We are not talking about sports scores between urinals or passing the newspaper between stalls. We are talking about phone calls in the potty. Just the other day, I found myself sitting down for a rousing game of solitaire when all of a sudden I hear someone walk in, pull up in the next stall, on a conference call. It is happening all the time! These people are not just listening in; they are active participants with multiple people on the line. They dial-in, walk in to the stall, then proceed to unbuckle, drop pants, sit down, hunker in and go on with business as usual. This of course leaves me in a bad spot. What if I had pepperoni pizza with jalapenos that day? What if I'm on a 2-day cleanse? What if I had bad Chinese for lunch? I'm sure that you can all see the problem here. Am I to knock on the wall and let him know he needs to mute? Do I try a courtesy flush? Do I try to hold it all in until he's done and gone? What are the ground rules for phone calls when you're dropping off kids at the pool??!

There are just some things that shouldn't happen in a Mens Room and that is one of them. The other is the peeing while on the cell phone (this includes bluetooth). Also something that shouldn't happen is the "Superman" in front of the urinal. You can't just stand there looking forward with your hands on your hips like bullets are bouncing off your chest. And....NEVER DO THE ONE-HAND SUPERMAN, ON HAND CELL PHONE COMBO!

I never thought that I would have to actually write down the Potty Rules; I had assumed that these were being passed down father-to-son in the same fashion as Miyagi-Do karate. Yet, here I sit explaining how men should conduct themselves in the restroom. I am not talking about the 1-seater at your house or the single stall rooms that can be found at Starbucks. I am talking about a real Mens Room - multiple thrones to include a handi-capable spot and at least 3 urinals.

Urinal Rules:

1. Always take the urinal farthest away from the door
2. If that one is taken, you go to the urinal that is farthest away from the 1 person in there i.e. the one next to the door
3. If both urinals at the far ends are taken, you may only use an open urinal if there will be a 1 urinal separation between you and the other person
4. If there are open urinals but you will be next-to, or in-between, then you must pee in an open stall
5. Never "Superman" a urinal
6. Never be on a call while in front of the urinal
7. Never lean over the urinal and lay one hand on the wall
8. Feel free to write your name or do some simple math
9. Peeing into a trough negates the freedom to write your name or do math problems
10. If your cell phone rings, wait till after you shake off, zip up, flush, washed and dried your hands, and left the Mens Room before answering

Rules of taking open urinals may be modified while at the movies or sporting events - this does not give carte blanche to pull up next to someone if there are other open spots. Let's use some sense here!

Stall Rules

1. DON'T BE ON A CONFERENCE CALL WHEN YOU WALK INTO ONE!
2. Leave the handicapable stall for last, but feel free to use it
3. Always flush when done
4. If you had spicy food, lead with the courtesy flush

These rules have been in place since the first multi-stall bathroom was invented. There we have it! Simple, easy to follow rules that should exercised at all times.

I know that women (I should say "moms") are not really understanding all of these rules. They pee with babies on their laps. They have family meetings while dropping a deuce. They can be in there on the phone with their mom, bff, cable tv guy, or anyone else. They don't view any of what was just outlined as simple rules needed to keep the balance of man in check. They see it as "stupid stuff that guys do and they need to get over it."

I am not asking women to understand these rules. I am reaching out to men. Real men understand the underlying issue. Real men know that something needs to change. Real men read newspapers on the pot, they don't chat about days events. It's time to put the man back into the Mens Room.

Wind of Change

I need to work on me. I know what you are thinking citizens...How can you improve on this [I'm motioning to all of me]?  But to not strive forward is to be like stagnant water - you don't move and start to smell pretty bad. Much like my multi-pronged attack to become famous, I need to work on me on multiple levels.

Diet and Exercise: Like an elephant being held over a cliff by a dandelion, my sexiness is holding on for dear life. Since vacation I have been on a food terror. Fried foods. Fatty foods. High-sugar foods. Empty calorie foods. Eating chili-dogs and tater tots 3 times a day wasn't enough for me. I stopped going to the gym. No more Muay Thai. No more lifting. No more fitting into euro-cut speedos. I have noticed a few things since trying to become Jabba the Hutt. I don't have much energy. I wake up and am completely exhausted. My concentration level is slipping. I love donuts. Yesterday I had my last bacon double-cheeseburger with avocado and onion rings. Washed it down with a 100% real ice-cream chocolate shake. It's time to take my sexiness serious. It was a gift for all of man (mostly for woman) that I have neglected. Sure I'm still hot as all get out and am generally the best looking man in the room; but fitting into speedos like stuffed sausage is not very becoming.


I vow to never forget that Sexy is as Sexy does. Sexiness is not a privileged, it is a gift to be used for the good of all mankind. I will honor God in all that I do - including food choice and exercise. I will get back into my speedo for Christmas pictures.

Fatherhood: I have 2 beautiful girls and 1 bad ass little boy. I have noticed that they are all very different. The girls are night and day in just about every aspect. The Boy is just completely crazy, which I find odd since he is soooo much like me. Being a dad is probably the greatest job on the planet. The only thing better is being a husband to a hot ass wife (check!). Some of the differences with the chi'rens is how they view "rules". Cheech is very militant when it comes to the rules. Black and White with no middle ground. She is all about the letter of the law. Baby Girl sees rules as more of guidelines or suggestions on how things should be done or how she should act. She leaves them open to interpretation. The Boy thinks he makes the rules. Just yesterday he told me that he was in charge. I explained that DAD RULES THIS HOUSE and that he is in charge of the girls while I'm gone and it's his responsibility to protect them. All he heard was, "Boy...you're in charge." Another difference is how easy the girls are at this age. I can say and do anything, and they know the rules. The Boy has this need to say everything that I say and do everything that I do. Until The Boy could talk, I never noticed how much I use the word "ass". Here are a few examples:

• We're late. MOVE YOUR ASS
• (while watching a fight) Get his ass!
• You bet your ass
• Watch your ass...you'll get hurt

I gave The Boy some nuggets and I told him, "be careful...they're hot." He replied with, "OK Dad. I won't burn my ass." 

I pledge to spend more time with all the kids. I will not FB or post or write or perform until they are all in bed. I will watch what I say at all times. I will be sure to pray with them every morning and every night.

Marriage: I completely adore my wife and we have a great relationship (as far as I know). We are back to taking a "marriage class." We don't have any troubles, but Nelly says it best: Marriage is like a car, it requires maintenance and a tune-up every so often. So we have newly joined the marriage life-group at our church. The leader of the class is a young, established Metro with cool hair - like Robert Patterson. This Sunday was our second visit after a very long time. The young pastor, let's call him the Fresh Prinze of GOC, was very welcoming and even begged to be in the blog. I believe his exact words were, "Don't put me in your blog." I don't think he uses the Kings James bible; he seems to be more in touch with the hippie, street language, hip hop Jesus styles of scripture. I did, however, like how he opened up the class with prayer, "Big Jeezy, in your name we pray..."  The class was pretty cool. I enjoyed being around other married couples that are dealing with the same stresses and pressures. The Fresh Prinze and his Executive Officer, Julius, made us feel very welcome. For that I am extremely grateful. Nelly and I have signed up for a couples seminar coming up very soon. Need to work on that preventive maintenance.

I pledge to take my marriage seriously. I will work to understand her feelings and be quick to listen and slow to anger. I will continue to work on deciphering the code in which all women talk - this will strengthen my relationship with my hot ass smokin hot wife. 

Relationships: As some of you may know, Nelly had a "relapse" for lack of a better term. There is no cure for her condition and every so often her treatment needs to be tweaked. The witchdoctors came in with chicken bones, pigs snouts, and eye of newt to create a new potion that continues to wreak havoc on her innards. This last episode was the worst it's been for a while. Dealing with the ups and downs that come with autoimmune hepatitis has taught me much about life, much about myself, much about my wife, and much about people. There are plenty of people that will laugh with you, but when times are rough, only real friends will cry with you. The people that I thought we could count on were absent and people that I never thought to ask stepped up. I also got hurt during this time; I got cut and started bleeding money! A last minute plane ticket, unexpected medical bills, and my water heater shat on me. I seriously think they build those things to fail.  Many thanks to Danielle and Isaak Adamson and their extended family, to Ann and Danna Seaver, and to Mr. Tiny and his beautiful wife, Christmas Snow for all the help and support. God does work in mysterious ways. I am thankful that my eyes are open enough to see where I should focus my efforts in building lasting relationships.


I pledge to be deliberately generous. I will use my talents to serve. When the Fresh Prinz asks me to display my greatness in a blog or skit for his class, I will do so for the Glory of God. I will work on important relationships with God, family, and friends.

Hepcat: Raising Awareness!

Hepcat – 2 dictionary results

[hep-kat]

–noun Older Slang

1. a person who is hep; hipster.

2. a very hot woman, usually with double-d’s, that has been diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis.

Origin:

1930–35; Americanism ; hep + cat [1^st iteration]

2010; Social Networkism; famous + ray + awesome + ness [revamped usage]

I am here to raise awareness like only I can! Well, maybe Stephen Colbert can do it too, that guy is a genius. Either way, many of you have seen some posting on Facebook between Nelly and me regarding her health and my sanity. Many of you have been concerned and don’t understand what is going on in our lives – this post will clear things up for the masses and at the same time should count as a Public Service Announcement.

Autoimmune Hepatitis is a crazy, wicked condition where the body’s immune system fights against the liver. This is not a pitty-pat Floyd Mayweather type fight. This is a Smokin Joe Frazier vs Muhammad Ali THRILLA IN MANILLA type of throw down. If the liver was a heavybag, the immune system would be Iron Mike Tyson (before Robin Givins and without the face tattoo). The immune system attacks the liver with the ferocity of a spider-monkey going after a cupcake – complete devastation.

Before her diagnosis, I knew nothing about the liver. Here are the big points of what I learned: (1) The liver is necessary for survival; there is currently no way to compensate for the absence of liver function and (2) The liver is the largest and most complex organ in the body. Talk about paradigm shift! I had always assumed something else was my largest organ. After learning these 2 facts, I understood seriousness of this disease.

The symptoms are hell to follow and don’t make much sense until they are looked at holistically. Here is the list:

• An enlarged liver – how the F am I supposed to notice that one!?!?
• Jaundice – this set in very late and I’ll get to it
• Itching – like a dog with ticks. Nelly actually bruised and broke the skin from scratching. Just had this flare back up last week.
• Skin rashes – didn’t have this one
• Joint pain – like an old man on a cold winter day, only wanting to eat soft carrots in his stew. We still deal with this one too.
• Abdominal discomfort – imaging eating chili cheese tater tots, pepperoni pizza, red vines, grape juice, a V8, and a bacon double-cheese burger. All for breakfast. Before a 2 mile run.
• Spider angiomas, or abnormal blood vessels, on the skin – didn’t get this
• Nausea – see “abdominal discomfort”
• Vomiting – not so much
• Loss of appetite – when things were bad, Nelly lost 15lbs in 10 days
• Dark urine – I don’t watch her pee
• Pale or gray-colored stools – I don’t watch her drop deuces, even though she’s asked…

So there it is. These symptoms came and went for about a month. Never any of them together, just 1 would crop up. The real reason that Nelly went to see a doctor was due to fatigue – which for some reason is not listed as a symptom. Damn Witchdoctors.

We had just moved to the Great State of Texas and Nelly wasn’t feeling too well. Everyone figured it was the stress of the babies (the little ones are 11 months apart – couldn’t keep her off of me). The doc decides to run some routine blood work – that’s when things got real bad real fast.

After her results came back, we are off to a GI for a liver biopsy. We didn't know anyone here so I had to drop her off at the surgery and watch the kids at home - crappy huh? We got the results the next day: Autoimmune Hepatitis. It's google time! I research and find out what we are up against.


By this time Nelly's eyes are yellowing and she is looking like Nicole Ritchie or any other cracked-out whore that you can think of (she was losing a lot of weight). The next day her body crashes like the Titanic going into an iceberg - she is going down. She calls her GI and he makes arrangements for a stay at the hospital. We get to the ER and she is immediately hooked up to medicine and machines - like an entertainment center with a bluray player, plasma tv, dvr, xbox, ps3, wii, surround sound, and a vcr all connected in the living room. She is hit with a flood of morphine and steroids that would put a baby rhino to sleep. It's 2 AM now and by this point her body is completely yellow from the jaundice. She actually looked like she was made of wax...I wait it out for 10 hours while she slept. I never left that night; I had to be there if she took her last breath.


Everything was rushing through my mind for hours on end:

• What am I gonna do with 3 bad ass kids?!
• How are we going to get back to California?
• Who is gonna watch them while I have to work?
• Where am I going to work?
• How am I going to raise them?
• What am I going to do without the love of my life?
• Am I strong enough to deal with this?

I prayed with all that I am on that night. God did answer my prayers. Here we are years later and she is with us. She was in the ER for 48 hours and then moved to a room for a week. We found out a few days later that she had hit stage-2 liver failure and they weren't sure she would make it. The doctor said that after a day of treatment her liver numbers were cut in half and they couldn't understand how well the treatment was going. I serve a Great God.


Now she is on treatment per the witchdoctors that we see on a regular basis. So that we are clear, there is no cure for autoimmune hepatitis. There is no "remission". There is ONLY "treatment". The treatment is meant to weaken her overall immune system so it doesn't go all Chuck Norris on her liver. No one can stand up to Chuck Norris. So she takes a cocktail of pills. Which is awesome because they offer their very own special brand of happiness: side effects.


We have learned to manage these extremely well (when things aren't in flux). When her regular blood work shows that her liver enzyme numbers are high, the voodoo priests start messing with the meds until things look right to them. This causes some issues around the house. It's mostly the steroids. As any one can imagine, being pumped full of steroids has the effect that gamma rays had on Bruce Banner - they make you Hulk up at moments notice. Besides that, there is the sleeplessness, increased appetite, high anxiety, increased spurts of energy, and deep, hard crashes. It's pretty much like living with a tweaker. Except there are no glow-stick shows in the club.....Dizziness and abdominal pain are daily reminders of the new meds.


To meet Nelly or to chat/talk/laugh with her, you would never know that she is sick. She never asks for help and does all that she can for everyone else. She is the most compassionate person that I know. She is also crazy; this is not a side-effect of the disease or the treatment. It's her hot Salvadorian blood ;)




Is me writing this some type of therapy for me? Oh HELL TO THE NO! Someone as great as me doesn't need therapy - I need to be famous. This is me sharing my thoughts as I always have; my style with no regrets.


So, why am I truly writing this.....? When I was on my way to the hospital on the 3rd day of her stay, I was talking with a good friend of mine. This is what he said to me:


Imaging how hard it would have been if you weren't a believer - you're church family was there for you. These things happen so that we can witness to God's greatness. People get the flu or get sick and they get over it. No one thinks that's a miracle. She was there dying and God made sure that she was here for you and the kids. What is happening to Nelly and your family is going to be a testament to his greatness. She is going to survive. People will listen to this story.


I am writing this story because it is long overdue.

Pelican State Diary

Day 0 – Dusty is supposed to pick me up at 2. In typical Dusty fashion, he shows up at 5:30. He does, however, come with 2 surprises. Surprise #1 – the swagger wagon was upgraded to a v6, candy-apple red, 2 dvd player model, complete with satellite radio. Surprise #2 – Dane Shagwell is coming with us to the Pelican State. This is already an awesome trip. I grab my gear and jump in for the short ride to LA. The ride is filled with light-hearted fun; centers mostly around the fact that I got a crap Blackberry “curve” and not the sweet ass “Torch” that I wanted. We stop in Tyler, TX for dinner at Chili’s. Dane and I go with a margarita on the rocks; Dusty orders chocolate milk, no rocks, with a bendy straw. Dane and I are glad that Dusty is driving. Today was a good day.

Day 1 – Dusty, Dane, and I arrive at the place of bidness. Due to the deeply technical nature of our work (that I really don’t fully understand) I will compare our technical work to putting together cool little models ex: cars, planes, trains, battleships, etc. We huddle up with the customer and determine our plan of action. It’s now lunch time; we go to the scene of the “incident” from the previous trip. More good news, Jack Sherman is en route and will meet us for lunch. We arrive and are on edge as we are not sure what the Shermanator will do today. I secretly pray that he does not order file gumbo. We all order with no problems. I surmise that Jack is no longer an a-hole and has matured. We head back to the office and give Jack the rundown. If Dusty, Dan, and I are building little models, the Shermanator’s work is like putting together a bicycle. Jack is having issues. At the end of day 1, his bike is just a frame with a loose chain and the handlebars are on backwards. We decide to go to dinner, looking back this was a mistake. The Shermanator orders first….Jack is even a bigger a-hole than before. Seriously. He orders double-shot anejo tequila. Seriously. We are in the middle of EFFEN NO WHERES! Not only does the Shermanator order an over the top tequila, he gives the server a hard time about it…it was worse than the first incident.

Jack (in the most condescending voice you can imagine): Tequila (Spanish pronunciation: [teˈkila]) is a blue agave–based spirit made primarily in the area surrounding the city of Tequila, 65 kilometres (40 mi) northwest of Guadalajara, and in the highlands (Los Altos) of the western Mexican state of Jalisco. The red volcanic soil in the surrounding region is particularly well suited to the growing of the blue agave, and more than 300 million of the plants are harvested there each year….

The food is ordered. I’m sure that they spit in it at the very least. To top it off, the Shermanator breaks out his work-issue Blackberry Torch to show Dusty pictures of Carnival. Today sucked butt.

Day 2 - I have breakfast with Dane and Jack. During breakfast convo, I discover that Jack is not only an a-hole, but he is also a topper. No matter what you've accomplished, he's done better; no matter how bad of a day you've had, he's had worse. Dane talks about living overseas for some time when Jack jumps in with how he owns his own island - it is in the shape of his head. Seriously. We get to the customer site and Dane is having some issues with a different customer on the phone and breaks into a mild case of tourettes. Seriously. Straight up. The other team of guys that showed up yesterday are in the office with us. They are "storage" guys, but Dusty keeps calling them "SAN People". This is awesome and brings to mind StarWars:

We now have 3 models complete: a WWII Mustang, a Corvette Stingray, and an Apollo 11 rocket. Jack's bike lost the handle bars but gained a front fork and a rear tire. We go to dinner and the Sherminator has another double-shot of anejo. The more he drinks, the more he likes Dusty. Today was so-so.

Day 3 - We are on a roll. With our plane, car, and rocket complete, we have one more model to complete: the dreaded bullet train. We know that this will take the rest of our time, but we are ready to go! The SAN People seem to be making good progress with their work too. Jack lost the frame, but has the front fork, 2 wheels, a chain, a seat, and brakes. We push through the day and are ready to chillax. A wrench is thrown into tonight's double shot anejo. We are set to meet up with the guy that sold this deal: Bajillionaire. Bajillionaire invites us to dinner along with the SAN People. We arrive and somehow Dusty ends up paying for our food. Bajillionaire is not a class act. We sit down and Bajillionaire starts to "Big Time" Dusty. Big Timing is almost like topping, except that Big Timing doesn't need anything to start with - the success starts getting thrown in your face from the get go. Bajillionaire starts off by telling Dusty he has 1000 accounts and we should be honored that he has time to speak with us. He goes on to tell us about the time he was with the Sha of Iran debating the Lakers chances of a 3peat. He finishes up with showing Dusty pictures of him and SHEIKH KHALIFA BIN ZAYED doing body shots at last years Christmas Party. Straight up. Seriously. I don't like being Big-Timed - today sucked.

Day 4 - The bullet train is almost complete. The SAN people are on track. Jack Sherman has a frame, a seat, no pedals, no wheels, no handle bars. Bajillionaire decides to grace us by coming to the site. He spends his time showing off emails from Queen Elizabeth asking for her cougar-bate to come back to the palace. Before he leaves he flashes his Facebook profile to Dusty - just wanted to let him know that he has more friends than Lady Gaga. Most of our work is now complete. Dane and I have done last minute details to work out. Dusty is on track to make good with the last model. The Shermanater decides he needs to cut out early - his bike lost the front fork, but he did add a bell. Seriously. Last night in LA, today was a good day.

Day 5 - We check in with the customer. Dusty, Dane, and myself dig in and gitter done! We load up and head out. Straight up. In the swagger wagon, while listening to the worst music ever made (80's), we discuss the week. It is then brought to my attention that Jack Sherman always says 2 things after every sentence:

• Seriously
• Straight up

The worst part about this (besides the horrible 80's music) is that this is contagious. Shagwell cannot get through one sentence without saying "seriously." Sometimes he starts with it. I'm back home now with my hot wife and little kids. Today was AWESOME.

Google and Jesus

I'm kicking it up a notch! I am on the campaign trail to greatness and am using all available resources; namely Google and Jesus.

All you need is Google and Jesus. If Google don't have the answer, Jesus will. 
- FamousRay 2010

I'm sure that we all agree that I am much too talented to be wasting away my years with nothingness. I am a GREAT man. I shall no longer live below my potential! I will do what it takes to be discovered as our generation's voice! Or at least land a book deal! Or maybe a columnist gig! Or just get published! I will not rest until the world recognizes my writings as deep, intricate works that should be studied next to Shakespeare.

I'm not just blogging. I have started to write a book. I may post the forward/intro to get some talk going. Maybe rumors too - that would be good. And....it will make it easier when I go to my fans for money to actually get an editor. Besides the book, I have 2 more schemes in the works. My 1/2 clone Zergio and I are writing a screen play. It will be pure awesomeness that should at the very least get an Emmy Nod. Lastly, but so freakin far from leastly, I will start a webchannel. Kind of like iCarly, but nothing like it. My lil cousin (Corky) moved from Dallas to LA and does video editing. He's family so has to believe in what I'm doing. My other good buddy, Isaak Adamson, will be taking a very active role in these webisodes. It will be like my blog - no real theme other than my imagination being recorded for the view pleasure of the Internets. It will be like strawberry cake with vanilla frosting for your eyes - pure, delectable viewing pleasure.

Aside from those schemes, some loving, admiring reader has actually started a Facebook "fan page" for my blog! You should be able to access it here. Be sure to "like" and add comments of how much you enjoy being a part of my world. That fan page is now linked to twitter - be sure to follow!

There it all is. Same campaign to famousness, but using a multi-angle attack. Damn becoming famous is hard work!

How did I come into all this you ask? My uber-talent carried most of it, then I had to google some of it. Jesus has the rest. To do what I plan to do takes some research and faith. To wholeheartedly jump into so many diverse avenues of awesomeness for the sole purpose of becoming famous to spread the joy of me to the masses, well that's a great undertaking that should not be taken lightly. The Google and Jesus paradigm is the only one that fits for something like this. Let me explain this concept for you.

We all have dreams and aspirations. We all come from different backgrounds. We all have unique strengths and weaknesses. But fear not! The Internet is the great equalizer - all this free information for the taking. In my "professional" world I have to deal with some complex crap. Here are a few things that I have to figure out on an average day:

1. Is Pluto still recognized as a planet?
2. What would Barbie's measurements be if she were a real woman?
3. Is it possible to lick your elbow?
4. What does 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 equal?
5. Is "jiffy" really a measurement of time?

I can only tell you the answer to #2. I can't answer the rest of the crap! I'm sure a few readers will have an answer for #3 though - you people are the reason that I write this blog :)

Besides Barbie's measurements being 39FF, 21, 33, I don't know ANY of those answers, and maybe you don't either. BUT, I do know where I can find them: www.google.com

Now we get to the hard stuff. The mind blowing abyss that is the unknown. I can hear the naysayers now: What if you don't become famous? What if your webisodes only get 100,000 hits? What if your book is only a best-seller for 3 weeks? What if you screen play goes right to made-for-tv? All I can say is: SUCK IT!

Actually, I can say much more, I just really enjoy saying SUCK IT! The real answer - this is where Jesus comes in. Google can't answer those questions. If Google doesn't have the answer, Jesus will.

Jesus came so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. I could not imagine your lives more abundant than to share in my awesomeness from reading simple blog posts to seeing my greatness come to life on the silver screen. If that is not the land of milk and honey, then I don't know a butt-load about the gospel.

My greatness is only just beginning. Strap in for the ride!

You're welcome cyberspace

Crazy.Pretty.Cool

Before beginning, I’d like to say that I do not have nor do I support “favorites” among parents. I believe that all children should be treated equally and loved immensely. They are all gifts from heaven and should be treated as equals amongst their brothers and/or sisters. Now, with that out of the way, I’d like to talk to you about my beautiful Baby Girl.

My Baby Girl is our middle child. She is absolutely precious; perfection from head to toe. She is physically stunning and has a heart of gold. I adore my precious baby and she can’t get enough of her daddy. We have an awesome relationship. She loves me more than anything on this planet. Even more than cake. Except for when Grandma is around, then I’m a REEEEAAAALY close second.

If you’ve read about The Boy, you know that God has a way of making us pay for what we did to our parents. I pay everyday with him. Every day. I don’t know what Nelly did when she was younger, but it must have been something serious. Baby Girl doesn’t look like Nelly. She doesn’t look like me either…more of a Hawaiian look than anything else…BUT, somehow all of Nelly’s craziness has been stuffed into her little body. Imagine Nelly’s attitude squished into 3 ½ feet.

My gorgeous lil Baby Girl is a walking force of attitude and stubbornness that is in competition with Nelly. Have you ever seen two animals smash their heads into each other? If you could, imagine two rams (big, mean billy-goats) that are fighting for territory. That’s not Nelly and Baby Girl. Now, imagine two toros (big ass bulls) competing to be the alpha-male. It’s worse than that. If you have ever seen the Discovery Channel profiling rhinos in the wild as they fight for dominance...the sheer power that is unleashed to show the world who’s the boss….then you will have an idea of the relationship.

Don’t get me wrong. Nelly loves my Baby Girl and my Baby Girl loves her mommy. They just are too much alike and it causes them to fight at times (which means every hour that I’m not there to separate them). Just last week we (Nelly, Baby Girl and I) were in the kitchen. Nelly and I were talking when the microwave went off:

BabyGirl: Mommy. The food is done

Nelly: I know. I heard it.

BabyGirl: Then why didn't you get it?

Cheech, her older sister, is all compassion. If you wrong her and apologize, she sincerely believes that you’re sorry and all is forgiven. Baby Girl on the other hand would sooner stab you than accept an apology. She has been known to carry grudges for months. Her stubbornness is also legendary.

I once sent her to room (I don’t remember why) and on the way there she is yelling: I DON’T LIKE THIS FAMILY! I WANT A NEW FAMILY! I WANT TO MOVE! THIS ISN’T FAIR! I DON’T WANT TO GO TO MY ROOM! THIS IS AN UGLY FAMILY!

Once she was in her room, I told her that when she was done being mad that she could come out. She stayed in there for 2 hours. I would ask, “Baby Girl, are you done?” She would just say, “no” and sit on the bed. After 2 hours I sent her sister in there to tell her to come out.

Much like Nelly, my Baby Girl isn’t about justice, she wants revenge. The Boy and Baby Girl are only 11 months apart. Ya, I couldn’t keep Nelly off me. Because they are close in age, they play together and fight together. A lot. When they were 4 and 3, I heard The Boy screaming. I went rushing to find him. When I did, I saw that Baby Girl was sitting down watching TV and eating cheez-its with one hand and with the other she had pinned the boy down by his head. I separated them and asked her why she was being mean to her baby brother. She answered as sweet as can be, “he pushed me Daddy.”

She reminds me of Nelly so much. I absolutely adore my Baby Girl. She lights up the room and melts my heart every time I see her. I know that she's crazy as all hell, but it makes me care for her even more. She is fiercely independent and doesn't want help from any one (remind you of any one). She can do it "all by alone!" This is good and bad. I actually think that it's great - she loves me and wants to be with me, not because she has to be. Also like Nelly, there is nothing in this world that I would not do for her. Nelly is my world; my Baby Girl is my heart.