Let Me Take A Selfie

I don't always take selfies. But when I do, I prefer to take them with a ridiculously good looking girl sitting on my lap. 

And Then Life Gets Better

Life does a great job of running us into the ground, doesn't it?

For full effect, download "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. 

I mean that opening line with all sincerity, and not in a semi-depressed/glass half empty perspective. I mean it in regards that sometimes this thing we wake up to every single morning wears on us. It slows us down. Tires us out. In between car payments, work deadlines, crying children, unfolded loads of laundry, prescription refills, dirty dishes, broken shoelaces, divorced pairs of socks, and everything else that remains unchecked on our to-do lists, this life can be a taxing time of survival. 

Life is tiring. Again, I'm not saying this from a gloomy point of view, only from a point of view that's so bushed I don't even want to leave the comfort of my work chair to face the 10-minute commute home. People, we get worn down. 

Spent. 

Drowsy. 

Drained of our energy that we give in to the powers of Mt. Dew at 9:17 in the morning just to keep our eyes open. Aged to where eating a bacon cheeseburger after 8:00 at night becomes a cardinal sin. Fatigued to the point where we can't come up with a unique topic to blog about so we just scramble together a few paragraphs and tie a rude joke in at the end just to make everyone happy. 

Yes, that is the point I have now reached. And sadly, it's only Wednesday.

Times like this can leave me shaking my head, but you know what always pulls me out of my funk? I come home, sit down on my couch in a meditative state with the white noise of silence as my background music. I close my eyes in a hypnotic rhythm and ask myself one simple question, one philosophical question that I am grateful a wise man once asked me when I was a boy. I ask myself, "What is funnier than kicking a midget?"

Nothing. 

And then I laugh. 

And then everything gets better. 

The Big "5-0-0"!

I have now reached the ripe old age of 500 blogposts, it's ok. Hold your applause.

For full effect, download "Soldier's Poem" by Muse, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

Usually when people hit a monumental moment in their careers, it causes a moment of reflection where they can look back on the highs and the lows, the best and the worst, they place a set of rose-colored glasses over their eyes as they reflect on the moments of their past.

But blogging is not a career. Actually, it is more of a journal. And I've told you that before. These posts aren't for you, they are for my kids. They are posts written to see how their dad grew up. How he changed. How he experienced joy, and how he screwed up. These posts are written so they can understand how he became the man who raised them.

With that being said, I have kept a written journal since I was six years old. That sounds ludicrous, I know. Keep in mind there have been times here and there where I haven't been very consistent. But since my senior year of high school, I've been keeping this habit every single night. And so, to commemorate my 500th post, I'll share with you some entries from those pages. If you like it, that's great. If you think I'm selfish and narcissistic, I really don't care. Because remember, these words are not for you.

October 1, 1991: I went to ropes course. It was fun. I climed a ladder. My favorite part of my body is my back. It’s strong. I like ninja turtles. they’re cool. This is my journal.

June 24, 1994: Dear Journal, This is something I would never tell another human being=I actually think Kasey Critchfield is pretty. She’s a !babe! I think she actually thinks I’m cute. She’s the babe in the class.

May 19, 1995: Dear Journal, I like this girl named Krystle Bailey. I told Drew and he called her and told her I liked her. So my life is over.

January 1, 1997: DJ, I Brock Bybee have made a few New Years resolutions. 1. To be more mature. 2. To not drink pop. 3. To be more nice. 4. To write more. Come on in “97”!

June 26, 1999: I hate it when you see a girl, and you know you can’t get over her. It makes me sick. Oh well, as High Adventure says, “Deal With It”.

October 27, 2001: I’ve always thought it would be good to start writing in my journal again.

October 28, 2001: See, you’re doing better. Just keep doing this for the rest of your life every night, and you’ll be fine.

February 22, 2002: Well, my career in high school basketball is over. We lost to Lone Peak tonight. Man it hurts. After the game we were all bawling. It sucks. I can’t believe it’s over. We have laid a great foundation for the future and it’s sad to go.

June 2, 2004: …And so it begins. My journey as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has begun. I’m on my way.

March 7, 2005: Hey. P-Day. Today was good. I got hit by a car today. Yeah, that wasn’t the best. I’ll tell you what, Virginia drivers suck. The lady didn’t even look both ways when she came to a stop. It blew me away. It’s all good though. I put a couple dents in her car.

July 22, 2005: I feel like Satan is standing in front of me and kicking me in the nuts. Yeah, crazy. This heat is killing me. I sweat like a mother on the doors. People all the time say, “Stay out of the heat.” Oh, okay. We’ll try! Yeah, stupidity runs rampant.

June 2, 2006: Now that’s a date I never thought I would write in this journal. Well at least make it to. It’s seemed so far away for so long. But now it’s come and gone and life continues to move forward. Pretty crazy though, to think 2 years ago what I was doing. I still read that first entry and see how young and naïve I was.

January 1, 2008: In my mind, I kind of think New Year’s Resolutions are a joke. Why do you have to wait until January 1, to start making changes? But as I sit here late at night pondering the outcome of my life, I have to wonder who I will become at this same time next year. Who will I be at the end of this book? I need to be someone to look up to, to rely on. Whether it’s a brother, a friend or a son, it doesn’t matter. I need to improve.

May 17, 2008: I am really at the end of my rope with these seizures. They seriously are making it so I am unreliable in a time of my life when a lot of people are looking up to me for help. Yeah it sure ticks me off. Dr.’s keep giving me thr run that just covers it all. It just warms me all out. *** It is what all is true and what will help *** me. L uckily my Grandpa is there is the man to help the most here. I swear, if I didn’t have a man which *** worked so had. S*uch as hm, Who know what I would do. I am grateful to have in *** my life.

May 18, 2008: The above journal entry is how confused and lost I am after having a seizure. I had one while writing and tried to piece together my thoughts.

June 20, 2009: I got up and Grandpa and I went to breakfast at our restaurant, One Man Band. Good times…

June 8, 2010: I got the call from H.R. today letting me know about the recruiting job, which I did get. Which I’m stoked for! It will be awesome!

September 9, 2010: I feel like a bloated cow. Cleaned the sink at Angie’s tonight. All by myself. Which means I ate one freaking sink of ice cream. It’s gonna take a while to work this off.

March 13, 2011: And it’s finally over. I did the deed of breaking up with Jo today. Somewhat of an awkward text was accidentally sent in advance, but hey, what can you do? She was upset. I don’t blame her. Life goes on. Laura asked me if I’m afraid of getting married. I don’t think so…

January 20, 2012: I don’t know where to begin. Grandpa died this morning. One of the most harrowing, yet beautiful moments I have ever witnessed. I’m in shock right now and it’s hard to understand what life will be like now. Life is strange, so very strange. And my life will be different now that my best friend is somewhere else.

June 4, 2013: So I bought a house today. Yes kids, you read that entry right. Kind of crazy, I know.

July 12, 2013: I'm almost to the point where I’m in, I’m settled, I can sleep in my new house. I must say I am fortunate to have people like Brett and C.J. and Quin, and Jonathan to be in my life and to help me out as much as they do. Friendships like those are what make life great.

Take my journals out of my life and you’ve got my entire documented history on paper. However, these entries may just be words on a screen to you because these are not points in YOUR life. You don’t understand what my life has been like. And likewise, I have no stinking clue what yours has been like either. But remembering moments like these and holding on to them, well, that’s something no one can take from you.  

Why You Should Steal A Baby

The following blogpost has been submitted by a fellow meathead blogger at the gym, who thought it would be nice to go out of his way and tell me the secret to finding a chick. For full effect, download "New Slang" by The Shins, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

Going to the gym is actually the fourth most popular way that is not associated with the Internet and social media to meet a chick in today’s world. The third being going to the nearest Barnes & Noble and browsing over the love and relationships section for a few minutes until a girl stops by who A. does not have a wedding band chained to her finger, or B. has smears of mascara wiped away on the upper sides of her cheeks, thus indicating she is on the rebound. More than likely there is a carton of Ben & Jerry’s stowed within 50 feet of Type B girls in this scenario.

            

The second most popular way to find a girl is the age-old, “head to the bar” method, which surprisingly is one of the oldest methods out there, however does not lead to more successful relationships than it does to one-night stands. Statistically speaking, alcohol turns people's brain functions off as the night continues to drag on and no one has hit on them, and/or vice versa, they haven’t found anyone worth tossing lines at. But it is a proven method that the later you are out, the more intoxicated you become, the more appealing that single chick wearing a turtleneck that doesn’t fit over her love handles becomes Kate Beckinsale, and before you know it you’re doing the walk of shame.

            

It’s ok buddy, join the club.

            

The previous three all have merit and all have proven success rates if used with proper caution and planning, however the number one way to meet a chick in these modern times is to steal a child and go for a walk in the park. And when I say steal a child, I don’t mean create drastic situations that will be aided by milk cartons, I do mean monopolize on all of your married friends who can’t keep their hands off each other and offer up your services as a blue-ribbon babysitter. Within seconds you will have a newborn placed in your lap with a diaper that needs to be changed, all so the parents of that lovely child can have the privilege of taking a nap longer than three minutes.

            

It's a rather bold statement to say that parents hate their children, but oddly enough, that is the nearest emotion I can think of to describe how all of my married friends view their physical offspring. Maybe not hate, how about, loathe with unfathomable comprehension? Yeah, that sounds better. I say this because anytime I offer my services to watch their kids, the child is offered up like a human sacrifice, tossed out the door like a form of terminal cancer. They want to rid their house of this pestilence for as long as they can, just so they can get a small taste of what it was like to be an actual human being, and not a parent.

            

And I’m telling you that kid works wonders. Take him anywhere you want and you’ll find women following you around like Justin Beiber groupies. The grocery store, the mall, Wal-Mart, the best place out of them all is to take them for a walk in the park on a Sunday morning. You’ll have more girls flocking to you than the salmon of Capistrano.

            

The kid is your weapon, your warhead, your secret form of artillery that takes down stone fortresses and melts girls’ hearts like warm butter. And the best part is that he behaves. He doesn’t know you, he’s not used to the way you act, he’s unsure how to handle you. All he knows about you is that you show up once every six months to pat him on the head, and your face may or may not show up on his refrigerator around Christmas. That’s it. You’re not a stranger, so he doesn’t go into an atomic tantrum because you didn’t buy him candy like his parents always do. He’s on his best behavior, and little does he know he’ll get you a girl’s number before it’s nap time.

And that my friend, is the reason why you should steal a baby the next chance you get. 

         

This Is What I Know...

Hold your breath, I’m about to get a little bit religious on ya.

For full effect, download “The Stable Song”, by Gregory Alan Isakov, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

If you were to ask me what are the two most influential factors that have shaped my current character the answer would be simple: The Gospel of Jesus Christ, and How I Met Your Mother.

Now before you put on your rage face and rip into the fiber of my writing, thinking this is going to be a repeat post from last week lamenting the loss of my all-time favorite television show, just take a moment, hold your breath, count to ten, and keep reading on through the next paragraph. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed. 

With that being said, on a semi-serious/semi-half drunk on four hours sleep note, I would like to tell you about some of the principles and beliefs I have come to accept as laws that govern my life, laws in my head I categorize as “Brocktrine”. Yes, I know that is a witty way of using my name as a synonym for law, but all jokes aside, I want to tell you about things in my life that I know with absolute certainty to be true…

I know that there is a God, and that he’s a pretty cool guy, and that he wants us to talk to him every once in a while and fill him in on the details of our lives. He cares about us. He L-words us. He wants us to disclose information to him, like our worst fears, our passions, our secrets, our questions. And if we do, he’ll throw us his two cents. We may not like his answers, but he’ll give us the facts, and that’s just one of the things that makes him The Almighty.

I know that the high five is the purest sign of friendship between two parties. There are different kinds of high fives we can use: the phone five, the relapse five, the word play five, the condolence five, the break up five, and on the rarest, most important occasions, the high six. All of these show a level of friendship that cannot be duplicated.

I know that the best stories are told for an ultimate purpose: to teach us something. When we hear of legends in the Old Testament being swallowed by giant whales, or Prophets spending entire days on their knees in prayer, or our Dads recounting to us the night of their 31^st Birthday when they wrestled a goat, the main purpose for this is to teach us a lesson. Yes, some of the details may be slightly askew because of a storyteller’s use of exaggeration, but that’s not what is important. What matters the most is the lesson these stories are trying to teach us. 

I know that we need to be patient in this life. We may not have the answers to our questions, or the solutions to our problems in the exact moment we want, but they will come. Sooner or later, they will show up. Think about it, if everything was gifted to us the very second we needed it, how in the curse word would we grow as human beings? We wouldn’t. We would be as shallow and one-dimensional as MTV. Good things come to those who wait. Even if we feel that girl with the yellow umbrella is never going to show up. If we’re patient, and we wait, things will work out in the end.  

I know that people are placed in our lives for a reason. Now don’t be confused, I’m not going all pre-destination/soulmate on you here, all I am saying is there are certain people in our lives who we cross paths with that will have an impact on who we are now, that will change the way we behave, and will alter who we become in the long run. Whether it’s Barney, or Robin, or a pair of young teenage boys wearing white shirts and ties knocking on our doorstep, there are people placed in our paths not randomly, not by chance, but for a reason.

And lastly, I know that none of us are perfect, however, despite our foul ups we can still love each other whole-heartedly. Yes, I know I just spelled out the L-word, but I really mean this. Every single one of us has flaws, has faults, makes mistakes, screws up, but those aren’t the things that should matter. What should really matter is that we should love every screw up we bump shoulders with. Ted Mosby summed it up best when he said:

“See here’s the secret kids, none of us can vow to be perfect. In the end, all we can do is promise to love each other with everything we’ve got. Because love, is the best thing we do.” 

April F***'s Day

Oh, you’re pregnant? Really? With twins? And you just won the lottery and are moving to Costa Rica? What’s that? April Fools? Oh yeah? Well f*** you! 

For full effect, download “Take A Walk” by Passion Pit and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

I would like to issue a formal apology to my Grandmother, my little sisters, and any future employers who feel offended by my use of the letter F and three asterisks for dramatic effect, but I felt it appropriate to show you how angry I turn when the rest of the world uses a Pagan holiday as an excuse to lie about events that we all know are false.

That includes you Scott Bingham, you selfless bastard.

Here are just a few of the examples I collected while rolling my eyes in bed last night scrolling down my waste of a social media connection.

Jane Does #1-318: “Can you believe it guys, we’re expecting a baby! I think today’s the day to finally break the news to everyone!”

You’re having a baby? Didn’t see that one coming. Why don’t you use the oldest and most overrated gag in the history of this holiday as an excuse to get more people to like your status? I think the correct verbiage should read, “Can you believe it guys, we are not an original couple! I think today’s the day to finally break the news that I have a really low self-esteem!”

Jane Does #319-589: “OMG everyone, … and I have finally agreed to tie the knot. We’re getting married!”

Now I haven’t heard that one before. I can see you either used this to trick your social media circles into thinking you are comfortable going to sleep alone every single night, or you are trying to spark some sort of jealousy with an ex. Either way, when your name gets put on the registry at Bed Bath and Beyond next fall I’m going to go ahead and purchase a heaping pile of cow sh** to be shipped to your front door you unoriginal buffoons.

By the way, thank you asterisk for letting me swear publicly on my blog.

John/Jane Does #590-715: “Did you see Jabari Parker can serve a full-time mission in whatever city he gets drafted to?” “Hey guys, have you seen the new MTC application you need to fill out in order to serve a mission?” “Hey check out this real, authentic pic of Snoop Dogg holding a Book of Mormon.”

Statements like these make me embarrassed to claim the LDS faith as my own. Of course I saw that “press release” letting Jabari serve a mission in Milwaukee. That makes perfect sense after he finishes a triple-OT thriller on Sunday afternoon to change into a suit and go tracting. How ignorant do you think I am? Snoop Dogg turning to religion? This guy is the mascot for the movie Half Baked, you think he’s turning his life to the big man upstairs? Come on people, you’re making our culture look pathetic.

Scott Bingham: “I have decided cycling is not my thing! I am selling my bike for $750. I paid $2,600 for it and recently put $900 wheels on it! Killer deal! Message me…”

You sonofabeech! You know what Scott Bingham, I got all excited about new wheels, and you ruined that, you selfish prick! THIS IS WHY PEOPLE FROM ROY DON’T TALK TO EACH OTHER OUTSIDE OF TEN YEAR REUNIONS WHERE WE ALL GET DRUNK! Thanks for destroying my hopes of an upgrade. I hope Karma comes out of nowhere and hits you with a VW bug on your next ride. That’s right, A VW bug!

Screw this holiday. Screw social media. Screw your malicious pranks, and screw you Scott Bingham.

Yeah…said that.