Monday, February 7, 2011


(J) So we got another brat.

(V) If by "brat" you mean lovey ball of cuddles, then yes, we did.

(J) If by "lovely ball of cuddles" you mean ankle biting, face sitting on, purr-tacking monstrosity then yes, we did.

(V) Hint to those of you who don't talk to us much: He's a cat, not a baby. However, we WILL train our future children to bite ankles as quickly as possible so that they can defend themselves.

(J) Well, more like slobber with toothless gums. Unless they come with sharp teeth, which wouldn't surprise me since Vilja's a vampire.

(V) And Jordan's a werewolf. And we were both zombies for Halloween. Toothless babies are useless. I expect only the best.

(J) Useless and improbable. If they come that way I'll make them some sharp glittery dentures. People will see us coming by the sparkle in our growling babies' teeth.

(J) Vilja is having a hard time one upping that.


(V) I'm still imagining babies with razor-sharp dentures of steel. So useful! I would make them earn their keep by crushing aluminum cans in their teeth at the recycling factory.

(J) And catching rodents.

(V) And shredding secret documents!

(J) And shredding rodents secretly transporting secret documents.

(V) In aluminum cans.

Sunday, September 5, 2010


(J) Like we mentioned previously, we closed on a house in May. It's about 1500 square feet with an upstairs and downstairs, and also has a 500 square foot detached garage.

(V) We would post pictures, but we feel like that stunts your imagination. As you picture our house, imagine something with a moat and prowling guard raptors, please.

(J) Actually, picture it with a fuzzy orange fluff ball ready to attack without the slightest hint of provocation. We call him Link, but sometimes Mewter McMewterson, Kitten Cattaterson, Mewtant, Mewtenstein, or Mewterbatooter.

(V) I think he may have false passports under all of those names, which would make sense since I'm pretty sure he's actually some sort of kitten spy. He's stealthy, deadly, and can disarm you with one little kitten swipe.

(J) One of his favorite games is to play "Murder the fly". Occasionally a fly will get in and get stuck in one of the bedrooms. If the fly has the misfortune of being in the same room with Link, he gets murdered.

(V) If by "murdered," you mean chased around and swatted without actually coming to any harm, then yes, that's what he does. He also enjoys the games "Murder Vilja's ponytail," "Murder Vilja's legs," and "Murder the pink stuffed bunny." You can see that he fits into our family really well.

(J) Uh, I'm pretty sure that the fly that made it out of Link via a bowel movement would disagree with your definition of murder.

(V) What Jordan ISN'T telling you is that he finally felt so bad for Link's pathetic mewing that he caught the fly and allowed Link to eat it in order to maintain some dignity as a fierce hunter.

(J) Pfft, I merely pulled a wing off to give Link a little edge, then he caught him and bopped him around mercilessly before eating him and then looking around curiously for the fly to keep moving. Besides, if we're going to train him to murder intruders we have to start SOMEWHERE.

(V) We just need to make sure that we don't tell intruders about Link's one weakness: singing. Don't tell anyone, but if you sing him a little diddy, he will get mesmerized into submission. I didn't think it would actually work, but he was attempting to claw my face off rather than let me trim his claws, so I made up a song about how good kitties like claw trims. He immediately held still and let me finish. I kind of feel like I tricked him, but then I realized that if he fell for a tuneless song sung terribly, he was asking for it. Or maybe my voice only appeals to cats.

(J) Annnnd the end. Here's a picture of Link.

(V) Feel free to fall in love.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Ching Chong Chang

(V) I hate coming up with titles for these posts. How am I supposed to know where my genius will take me in advance?

(J) I just came back from the future and the title should be "ching chong chang."

(V) Is it about Chinese food? Terribly racist musicals of the 1950s? A robot that spits out randomized phrases? I can't stand the suspense!

(J) Actually it's French for "I'm gonna blow up these [expletive deleted] birds that built a nest right above my head".

(V) Yes, that DOES seem to fit into the near future. At first, I had such cuddly feelings about the miracle of life happening in the roof right over our bed. What I DIDN'T realize is that we got the Von Trapp family of bird-dom. ALWAYS a chorus of overly cheerful little birdy voices singing about a few of their favorite things (worms! air! sunshine! people sleeping!) and not enough running away from Nazis.


(V) Lest you think that it isn't the birds' fault that they built a nest over our heads, you should know that they FOLLOW us. Try to go into the living room to sleep on the couch? "CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP I'M IN YOUR SWAMP COOLER, FOOLS!" Luckily for us, and for all of you bird lovers out there, we are buying a house TOMORROW. House=cats=bird souffle.

(J) Seriously, if a bird builds a nest in the roof at our new house, I will build an extensive series of planks that lead up to it so our cats will simply have to trot up at their leisure to swipe a morsel of bird. Another thing, if they were cutesey wootsey little sparrows I probably would get mad but then melt when they did their adorable little sparrow antics. These however are some illegitimate spawn of a crow and some filthy reptile, and have zero redeeming cuteness factor.

(V) Agreed. These birds are monstrosities of the air, and I don't know how those fatties even fit into the little tiny crack in the roof in the first place. But seriously, folks, we love animals.

(J) And we're closing on our house tomorrow!

Monday, January 25, 2010

(V) I finally tricked Jordan into blogging again. He told me that our blog offends him visually, and that he no longer wishes to be associated with such a blog. I asked him what he wanted me to do about it, and he told me to "jazz it up." I'm not quite sure what that means. Maybe some dancing widgets?

(J) Here's the deal. This blog looks like a hamster just ran over the keyboard and randomly selected some crappy, ugly, basic template while the browser happened to be logged into blogger.

(V) Many of Jordan's actions remind me of a hamster.

(J) Lies, I hate vegetables. And wheels. I do like drippy ball water fountains and wish I had one by my bed.

(V) After my LAST hamster committed suicide by leaping to her death off of the water bottle, you can hardly blame me for forcing Jordan to be content with the kitchen sink.

(J) I had no idea you actually had a story to segue into about hamster bottles. That's weird.

(V) Perhaps my life would be simpler if I allowed hamsters to make ALL of my little decisions, like what to wear in the morning, or when to have children.

(J) Irregardlessly, the point is this blog template is garbage and every letter I type in it takes a day off my life. Irregardlessly additionally, finding suitable blogging templates and making them fancy and aesthetically pleasing to the naked eye is WOMEN'S WORK.

(V) Don't worry, I'll stab him twice for that last bit: once for "irregardlessly," and once for being a chauvinistic pig. On another note, I've always wondered about the term "the naked eye." What constitutes a non-naked eye? An eyepatch? What would be aesthetically pleasing to an eye covered in an eyepatch? Wenches, perhaps?

(J) Irregardlessly speaking of pigs and, such as, and some junk, such as etc: [Insert failed attempt at finding a video of a pig getting stabbed]

(V) Apparently, videos also make for interesting, "jazzy" blogs.

(J) Anything is better than this inane banter, such as.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Nerd Alert Nerd Alert

(J) So I saw Vilja get about as excited as I've seen her get about anything the other day. She was so excited telling me the story that she could hardly say three words without spontaneously giggling and doing the little jump slash wiggle thing she does when she gets excited.

(V) I don't actually know what he's talking about. It is a JIG/wiggle, thank you very much!

(J) You have to actually type out "slash" otherwise people won't know what you're talking about. So for those of you confused by what JIG/wiggle means, she meant to say JIG slash wiggle. Anyways, I kept waiting for the punch line to her story being something like "and then I won a million dollars", but it ended up being that a professor at BYU was looking for an equally nerdy master's student minion to write about the Dark Knight. I was like "oh, well, that's, fantastic."

(V) JORDAN! Don't jinx it or he will find someone equally nerdy (although less likely to own a Batman backpack)! I thought you were talking about my OTHER story, you know, the one where I got mistaken for a polygamist wife:

(J) No really, she did.

(V) In my defense, I was all dressed up to go to my mission companion's wedding reception at the Renaissance Festival. I can only imagine what kind of intervention the patrons of Chipotle would have planned for the bride and groom:

(J) So to fill you in on the story she left out, some random lady at the restaurant started playing 20 questions about who they were and ended with her letting out a sigh of relief upon finding out that they WEREN'T polygamist wives that had escaped the compound and were in need of an intervention. I told her she should have said "Almost! After all, we are Mormon!"

(V) I was thinking that maybe I should have invited the lady back to the compound for some tea with a side of brainwashing. NOTE: If you ARE trying to save a polygamist wife, I think a better approach would just be to grab them first and ask questions later.

(J) Hey it worked for me, the first time I met you I just grabbed you (well, your legs) and helped some random stranger throw you in the pool. Ok so maybe you weren't a polygamist but the premise is the same.

(V) Because I was wearing Renaissance gear? Or because I was eating lunch?

(J) Probably because you were wearing nerd clothes and were wearing a batman backpack, actually.

(V) Jordan, I don't think that you should give the innocent readers of our blog the idea that it is okay to just kidnap nerdy girls whenever the fancy strikes them!

(J) Why? It worked for me, which means it will probably work for at least 10% of the general population. That's like only 90% ending in restraining orders and lawsuits; good odds in anyone's book if you ask me.

(V) Speaking of kidnapping...

(J) So two blonde girls go to Italy to watch a U2 concert, Vilja and Meri (Taken anyone?). Want to know the best way to not get kidnapped, sold into an Albanian prostitution ring, or even murdered? Take a huge bodyguard with huge rippling biceps, preferably, one with muscles that ripple upon the rippling biceps, to protect you from any ne'r-do-wells or creepy guys with mustaches. Like me.

(V) We didn't have one of those, so we took Jordan along.

(J) LIES. I saw at least 40 wannabe blonde theivers (yes that's a word) back the heck down after watching me flex my guns at them and make angry eyebrow gestures in their general direction. You didn't see it because you had to play the the part of one half of the innocent duo.

(V) Jordan DOES make some frightening angry eyebrows, I must admit. In any case, we survived the concert intact and had a lovely time.

(J) And then I lost our camera with all of our precious European memories! THE END . Europeland was awesome though.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

This is for you

(V) So, I was talking to a friend of mine the other day--let's just call her "Schmadrienne"--and she asked me, "Why don't you post pictures on your blog? I want to see what you and Jordan DO!" So I, being the good friend that I am, looked through the pictures on our computer to see what exactly it is that Jordan and I have been doing these last 10 months of marriage. And this is what I found:

Our kids are going to be awesome.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Hey wanna buy a crappy house?

(J) So Vilja and I put an offer on a duplex not too far from campus the other day. Seemed like a good enough deal: fair amount of square footage, poisonous man-eating foliage to keep passerbys from getting too close, mountings for machine guns and trenches for pillboxes, and most importantly, an extra room for me to put my computer and piano for unlimited, uncrowded, music making extravaganzas.

(V) And pretty tulips! And kitties!

(J) We were getting pretty excited to possibly have our own place. I was especially excited because I would potentially be a propertied "land owner", and finally attain the coveted right to vote in the town hall meetings.

(V) And I could have a kitty. And pretty tulips.

(J) blah de blah blah

(V)Jordan just read what I wrote and said, "No, no, you have to write something intelligent", which seems to defeat the entire purpose of this blog. Fine, you want intelligent, I'll give you intelligent...When Nicholas Trist went to Mexico to meet with the general of the Spanish-American War, they were at odds for several weeks until he came down with a cold. The general nursed him back to health with guava marmalade, and they became fast friends, allowing Nicholas to send good reports back to Washington. Bet you didn't know THAT, Mr. Smartypants.

(J) You know when I thought you said you were going to write something intelligent, I almost got excited. I didn't expect a lengthy expose on spanish healing strategies from a century that no longer holds relevance, mainly because it's old and everyhone knows that nothing important can be learned from previous centuries.

(V) I'll intelligent your face... Is THAT more suited to your tastes?

(J) No, but guava marmalade sounds kind of tasty. You can bring me some with that pot pie you should be making me right now!

(V) I don't even know how to vent my rage without possibly exploding our house with fiery darts of death. Of course, it IS cinderblock, so it might withstand the damage quite well...

(J) I just felt a burning, popping sensation in the back of my brain...and now my face is drooping on the left sideeea .. afnad taypeing is n ow long 'er very reaysyy foaw; fh;aw 'rpwouauop'wujffffdddjodwightdwightdwightdwightdwight

(V) Well, I guess you won't be able to eat that pot pie after all. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA. I guess that leaves it to me to finish telling the story of our house. Drat!

(J) a;owie jjafoei fjiejw fj ajoa;e ;adurka durka durakakol jf aw;ofjea; jfkdfj

(V) We got the house inspected and it is broken. The end.

(J) fj iaej ;mjaf.