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.

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.

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.

Sundays is for Sleeping

(J) Vilja loves when people post awesome grammar in public forums, whether it bees on Billboard's, books, or Blog Posts. SHe also likes when things are capitalized Funny and have possesive's when they shouldnt'tnt't.

(V) I think I'm going to pour warm lemon juice all over his pants while he's sleeping so that he thinks he wet himself just for the pain the above post has caused my poor brain.

(J) SOrry VIljls', I'm just trying to help you over come you're unhealthy aversionz to poor writing's. Just the other day I herd you throwup a leetle in you're mouth when we drived past a billboard on the free way that used a possesive when it shouldn't have. Lets face it -- that isn't not normaly.

(V) Perhaps if I distract him, he'll forget this nonsense and type like an educated human being. Jordan, look over there-- something is on fire!

(J) I can't be bothered by things like burning children; I'm sure her parents will realize he's burning and put him out before TOO much damage has happened. Skin grafts don't hurt as bad as people say.

(V) And THAT, dear readers, is why we leave Jordan in charge of the Sunbeams. Speaking of skin grafts, someone told me just the other day that their friend got butt skin put on their hand and IT GREW HAIR. Sick.

(J) This is true, and I am working very hard to eliminate the term BUTTFACE from our collective vocabularies, because let's face it -- if you get burned you're probably gonna get part of your butt put on your face FOREVER. Even if your face isn't even what got burnt. Often, doctors will transplant your butt to your face just to teach you a lesson. Then you have to deal with the stigma of being someone who got burned ANDDDD who makes farting noises every time you sneeze.

(V) Jordan just woke up from a ten-hour nap, and I'm pretty sure it reverted his brain to seventh grade. You should hear him chuckling right now at the expense of poor burn victims everywhere.

(J) I'm sorry, but if you can picture a little kid with a butt for a face, farting every time they sneeze WITHOUT laughing -- well, you have a lot to learn about the meaning of "funny".

(V) Let's change the subject. Again. Jordan's in a weight loss contest at work. I'm not sure about all of the details, but I'm pretty sure it involves parading around with batons in bathing suits and winning a tiara at some point.

(J) No, that was for the spouses (Vilja). I'm in a "manpetition" where the goal is that we all get to dress up like Spartans and wear leather loincloths with spears, helmets, and capes, and go around slaughtering Persians. You simply can't do that if you're fat and chubby, which is the point of the weightloss manpetition.

(V) I would like to remind everyone that Jordan works with a bunch of ENGINEERS. Enough said.

(J) So, just because some of them like to calculate the moment arm of a spear that's been thrust 2/3 of the way through a hapless enemy doesn't make them any less badical.

(V) Yes, yes it does.

(J) Nope. It makes them badical^awesome. That's badical raised to the awesometh power.

(V) Badical raised to the awesometh power? Really? I rest my case. NO self-respecting Spartan knows math. That was for the sissy-pants Athenians.

(J) Which is why we're the UPGRADED versions, called SCHMARTANS. THE END.

Who labels their blog-post "scooters"?

(V) That was actually a rhetorical question. At the bottom of the post, it offered some suggested labels, one of them being "scooters". I mean, "vacation" or "fall" I understand, but how many posts can one person really have about SCOOTERS? Jordan misunderstood my disgust and thought I was trying to suggest a clever, but nonsensical, title for the post. Silly Jordan.

(J) I'm figuring out the Family Guy themesong on the piano -- go again vilja.

(V) NO! nononononononononono (kicking feet and making grumpy Finnish rhubarb face) NO!

(J) OKOKOKOK CAPS LOCK ATAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKKKK. It's been several months since we started this blog and a) we don't write much and b) we don't write anything important. Soooo.........here goes nothing.

Vilja just graduated from college, she's a bonafide uh college grad now. I graduated also and am in the middle of a Masters, so that I can affix the label "Master" to any and all references to me for the rest of mortality. I also work at a sweatshop exploiting pretty much any disadvantage minority you can think of, which I know makes you all jealous. Yes, you -- both of you -- that read this blog. Actually I work as a manufacturing engineer where we make super pipe for big oil rigs and stuff.

(V) Jordan, don't kid yourself; everyone gave up on this blog long, long ago, and anyone who might have been hanging on to SOME hope of our starting a normal family blog probably just quit in disgust after hearing how you exploit the minorities. And, let's be honest, I graduated in ENGLISH, which means that I can now work at McDonald's or Burger King. My diploma probably won't come in handy at all until the next time we run out of toilet paper.

(J) Well, yes but I also expect it to cover at least two little caesars pizzas a month.

(V) Jordan, we can't afford to splurge on pizza--we need to use my McDonald's discount.

(J) Actually, you can trade hamburgers for pizzas on the blackmarket at a ratio of 4 to 1.

(V) Jordan claims it's MY turn to say something worthwhile. Obviously, he hasn't learned anything about me in the last 7 months of marriage. Okay, folks, what do you want to know about our exciting lives?

(J) I'm sure asking questions on a blog that no one reads is a fantastic way to accomplish nothing. But I digress..

(V) My MIND NINJA fans will answer. Just because they don't talk to YOU....

(J) Or exist on any kind of physical plane...

(V) Just you wait...imaginary, but DEADLY...

(J) Fine I concede defeat, but only for the greater good and only if you replace the words "concede defeat" with "am undefeated". Seriously though, AGHHH PHONE

(V) Well, my attention span has run out waiting for Jordan, and now it's time to go stare at something shiny for a while.

I Can Ride My Bike (With No WHEELS)

(J) Held out till I couldn't take it any longer; hmph. I was merciful and made the first move because I didn't want to see you in such a broken state. That's why they call me Maximus the Merciful.

(V) Actually, no one calls Jordan that.

(J) My dream minions do, true story because I woke up from my Sunday Nap (capitalization is necessary) and had the name stuck in my head.

(V) If we were accepting dream occurences as reality, half of our Sunbeams class would have accidentally gotten into a space shuttle last Friday. "Maximus", your argument is invalid.

(J) You just validated it by calling me Maximus, which I think is Jordan in Greek. Besides, there was no accident when I took the Sunbeams on a secret mission involving Russians and the Moon.

(V) And what about Alma baptizing the dinosaurs? Or when I was engaged to a guy from my home stake without knowing it?

(M) (maximus) A) Dinosaurs, being the sentient philosophers of the animal world, had need of baptism just like any other smart monkey or ape you know today. B) I went back in time to the future and eliminated this "guy" and all you have left is a broken memory of a would-be miserable existence without me. You're welcome.

(V) Ridiculous. I don't know why I even agree to blog with such logic.

(M) I'm like a logical bullet piercing your sundered critical literary armor. A bulletologist. Also my name looks like you're about to type KOREAN when you try and text it on a phone.

(V) Okay, Korean, I've had enough of this nonsense, although "Vilja Johnson, bulletologist" would have a nice ring to it when appearing on the History channel. I'll look into it.

(M) Fine then if you're gonna take that then I'm gonna be a BLADEMASTER and everyone will come to me to learn about things like blades and sharp pointy thingies.

(V) Not true. they might come to you for swords, but they will come to me, the resident NINJOLOGIST for matters relating to ninja stars and other really cool weaponry because your lesser expertise will prove wanting.

(M) Wrong again. Feel free to take the title of NINJOLOGIST; I'm sure your lines will be full of NINJO'S trying to pretend they're bad a's like the NINJA's in my lines since I'll be the resident NINJA-OLOGIST.

(V) Hyphenating that kind of title automatically makes it fake. Read the fine print on your diploma, buddy. I'll look for your face on the next edition of "20/20: Uncovering people who cheat other people". And, for the record, the word ninja was derived from the Latin ninjo.

(M) Fine Print: "If your name rhymes with SHMORDAN or BLAXIMUS then you automatically win all arguments -- furthermore if your name happens to be both, you get +10 to damage and all stats". Besides, I"ll be on 20/20 but only to kill Bawbawa WaWa because she's a pinko commie sympathizer. And old.

(V) Did that gibberish make any sense to anyone else NOT affiliated with World of Warcraft?
Nope, didn't think so.

(M) Actually +10 to stats and damage is a real occurence in this World, just look at Gorillas. They have +10 to stats which means they can beat up all the other primates. And look at Lions, they have +10 to damage so they can eat all those gazelles.

(V) Well, seeing as I am neither a gazelle nor a monkey, I find your threats just plain silly.And it only serves to further expose your nerdery, anyway. The ultimate point is that your name turns into Korean and that I am better at ninja stars. The end.

(M) Your eyes are slantier than mine. And I luff them.

Revenge of the Nerd

(J) Vilja is a nerd and this is her revenge.

(V)Don't be fooled. Jordan is the one who currently has 5 windows open on our computer.

(J)Wanting to stay apprised of world news, email, and other potentially life changing fountains o' data is hardly nerdy. Wanting to stay in college forever just so you can keep taking classes, is.

(V)If I WERE nerdy, and if I wanted to take revenge, I would have to choose a worthy subject of my wrath. The electoral college, for instance. Or our mouthwash bottle that I can never open. However, this being a shared blog, I suppose I will have to conspire jointly with Jordan. Sigh. Mouthwash bottle, I SHALL have my day in the sun...

(J) Ok back to Vilja wanting to punch my head at first sight. So the semester goes by rather uneventfully. Flash forward like six months' to March(ish). I was nearing the end of my scholarly diligence period of the semester and was starting to enter slacker mode (yeah right, slacker mode started the week after school), I had this overwhelming urge to, um, be with female company so I began looking for hot sexy finnish girls on things like MySpace and Facebook. And LDS Singles and Chemistry.com and Match.com and E-Harmony.com and Live-Links, the sweet trampy phone pickup line and UVSC dances. Just kidding, facebook wasn't even BORN back then.

(V) Wait, you mean this isn't actually aboutrevenge at all? You mean this is about sappy sappy love? I've been cheated! I had my poison darts and my ninja star all ready for some good, wholesome FHE fun, and now my hopes are dashed! Drat! Stupid love... And, for the record, Jordan couldn't even tell the difference between a Finnish girl and a Scottish terrier back then.

(J) In my defense both Scottish Terriers and Finnish girls like hair pets and treats -- I can hardly be held accountable for not being able to distinguish between such finely seperated classes of... mammals.

(V) It's true, I like treats. And sometimes jumping through hula-hoops.

(J) Speaking of treats, in March I started coming over to her house a lot to watch movies. I'm fairly confident that I provided treats on more than one occasion. One night in particular, after watching like 7 movies in a row, we found our hands had become somewhat unexpectedly intertwined beneath the blankets. After about 15 minutes of hand cuddlyness we realized the silliness of what we'd done and immediately began fighting over one of those twisty rods that closes blinds.

(V) Jordan just messed up half the story, as is to be expected. Holding hands was NOT at all unexpected; in fact, he had been building up to it for a good, solid month and actually had his pinky finger touching my leg for 3 movies before he made a move.

(J) Yeah right I was just minding my own business and then I started coughing and then BAM next thing I know I've got these finnish fingers (including one bent pinky) accosting my poor defenseless philangies (spell check?)

(V) And the fight over the twisty thing was probably three weeks earlier, and THAT was preceded by witty texting wars over scepters, pretending to kiss in a dumpster, and my last-ditch attempt to seduce him with a red dress. I was losing hope fast.

(J) I might add that a good 50% of our relationship over a multi-year period took place via text messaging. So to all you "Bishops" and "Stake Presidents" who say that young adults should stop texting each other and go on real dates: "Sucks to your asthmar" I says.

(V) I might add as well that Jordan used our story as encouragement for single adult females to take the initiative and ask guys on dates. Yeah, if they want to end up married to their "safe bet who will never take it seriously".

(J) I'm not gonna lie, I got the best deal ever -- amazingly hot finnish girl does the grunt work and makes it so that all I have to do is follow up by weakening her defenses with 40 hours of movies in a few days coupled with little or no sleep. Bwahahaha she was mine, all mine, and no amount of good judgement or advice would prevent her from succumbing to my wiles.

(V) I think the Mono Sodium Glutimate (for normal people, that's MSG) from late-night Betos runs had something to do with it, as well.

(J) Moving the story right along: It's the day before Vilja flies back to Boston for the summer and I drive to Chicago to begin "The Summer of Death and Pestilence" (eg working for Apex). We spent our last night in Utah at Chelsea's house watching movies. By 2:00 AM all of the rest of the kiddies had gone to bed, leaving Vilja and I alone on the couch, almost dead with sleepiness.

(V) At this point, I must give proper credit to chelsea, who knew EXACTLY what she was doing when she popped in the last movie and left the room. To make a looooooong story short, I remembered Jordan smugly informing me once upon a time that he never had to kiss a girl first, and so I held out until he couldn't take it anymore. Sucker. And now "Heroes" is on, and so that's all the details you'll get, you nosy fiends!