A BlackBerry? No...a Lemon.

I hate my phone. Yes, hate. In the past few months, I have experienced the following with this supposed technological marvel--the BlackBerry Pearl:

-It wouldn't send picture messages for weeks
-It deleted the internet browser on its own
-It's stopped receiving texts...twice. The first time was during a break-up, only making the whole situation worse as it looked like I was being an @$$ and ignoring my texts
-It deleted all of my 465 contacts, while I was trying to do a software update in an attempt to fix another problem it had. My favorite part of that fiasco: I did backup the data--or attempt to--but, when I went to restore it all, I found that the backup file was "corrupted", resulting in hours of work trying to recover the contacts; I got back 430. I'm still discovering who the 35 missing are. Oh, and when that whole thing happened, it froze my phone up and wouldn't let me call anyone--and I was heading out on a blind date, with no capability of checking in with friends to let them know I was fine. It was awful.
-It has started deleting all of my messages before I can even get them open--or the second I close them, they'll delete
-At random, my inbox (which I do not keep overfilled anyway) deletes texts or emails, sometimes all of them at once
-The phone freezes up regularly and gives me that stupid twirling hour glass--usually at the most inopportune times too
-In the middle of texting, it will switch from doing "SureType" to doing the multi-tap alphabet on its own
-The camera zoom has completely failed to work
-The scrolling mouse thing only works occasionally and when I try to scroll to select the correct word from the SureType list, it doesn't work and picks a random one, resulting in me re-typing the word several times before it accepts it

-And, the latest saga: I sent a text to some friends and family members this morning, letting them know that, yet again, my phone is not receiving texts. I know this because I was mad at a friend for not answering me yesterday, so I yelled at them. But it turns out they answered me--twice--and I just didn't get it. Grrr. Anyway, I sent the text this morning and almost instantly, I got a call from some random Utah phone number (801 area code). I thought, "Hmmmm...this is really early for Utah time. It could be an emergency, but it could just be a wrong number." So, I let it go to VM and then immediately checked it. This is how the voicemail went:

"Yes, if your phone number is (...), please stop texting my son! He's 12 years old. We live in Ogden, Utah. He just got a text saying that your phone is messed up and this is the 10th text he's gotten from you. Please stop texting him! We have to pay for every one you send."

I called back and apologized and got his phone number to see if it just happens to be one number off from any of my family members', but it wasn't anywhere even close. I told her I was taking the phone in today to be fixed...again...and then apologized again. After hanging up, it occurred to me that my phone has done some pretty stupid things. So, I went into each family member's record to make sure his number didn't get added into it somehow. Sure enough, my phone replaced my sister Kami's cell number with some random 12-year-old boy's cell number. AAAAAHHH!!! I so want to smash the thing...but instead, I will do the calm thing and make Verizon replace it. I called them yesterday again anyway and they said they'd do whatever it took to make me happy. They'd better stand by that, as I do not need a $300 piece of junk that texts random 12-year-old boys. Not cool.

OK, I have said my peace...amen.

My Morning in Madea's World

A year or two ago, I was introduced to the incredibly funny, yet poignant, Madea movies. Today, I lived for a moment in the world of Madea.

My dear friend and coworker, Beth, invited me to her son Cameron's pre-school graduation, which took place this morning. It was a fun little affair that was attended by dozens of people, including me and Beth's friend, Lynn. Lynn is a cracker, just like myself, so we looked like a fun little white couple...the only problem being that none of the graduating children were white. Lynn said, "I bet there are plenty of them wondering which child could possibly be ours." So, we had our little chuckle and then the program started. (Beth, meanwhile, was off to the side of the room taking pictures, thus leaving us to look like a couple as she is also a very pasty white cracker--OK, she's actually quite tan, but I still wanted to get in a jab.)

I looked at the program to find the list of graduates, which included Kadayia, A'Ameerah, and Miyah. The teacher's name is Daphaline. That's fun. These poor kids don't have much of a chance at having their names pronounced correctly in Kindergarten and beyond. Anyway, the program was really good and started off with the kids dressed in garb that reflects the career they hope to have when they grow up. Cute little Cameron was a firefighter, courtesy of some last minute--yet brilliant--shopping that Beth and I did yesterday. They did their songs, introductions, etc., and finished that part by dancing the Macarena--yes, the Macarena--before heading off to get into their caps and gowns. (Incidentally, I think most of life's milestones are getting out of control in regards to the money and effort put into celebrations--it's insane.)

While the kids were changing, Miss Dalphaline called upon volunteers to come forward. Several parents did go up. (I must say how impressed I was with the involvement these parents, grandparents, aunts, cousins, etc., have in the kids' lives. It's apparent that they care.) Well, what did these volunteers end up doing? They did exactly what was printed in the program they'd do--the electric slide. Yes, the intermission at pre-school graduation was parents doing the electric slide. It wasn't just the initial volunteers that danced, either. There were people getting up out of their seats to dance with the rest of them once they realized what was going on (they clearly hadn't read their programs).

Immediately, I thought back to Madea's Family Reunion and how they all danced the electric slide in the middle of the yard; then, I remembered an Oprah show where she said that any time black people get together--weddings, funerals, BBQs, it doesn't matter--they inevitably end up doing the electric slide. They even did it during that Oprah show. Today, there were people cheerin' and doing the whole "mmmhmmm" shouts, while a group of parents at the front were totally dancing away. The floor was shaking (not the sturdiest or newest of buildings), people were clapping and stomping, cheering, etc. And there, in the middle on a chair made for a five-year-old, was me...the sole white man looking like most white men watching others do the electric slide: I didn't know what on earth I was watching.

It was an absolute hoot! I feel cultured--much like a pearl--and can now say that I have sat through the electric slide--in a preschooler's chair, no less. Don't count on seeing me actually dance the electric slide any time in this lifetime, but I was indeed witness to its performance. I must say that it was a fun experience to step into the world of preschoolers and the electric slide, before coming back to the office and getting back into my own world. But, for a moment, I got to be like Madea. Hellurrrr!

My Beloved Camilla Juanita: Homage

As anyone who knows me can well attest, I absolutely love and adore my most excellent friend, Cammie Jan (aka Camilla Juanita). Those who know me can also attest to the fact that I share my love through much sarcasm and joking. If I'm kind to you and am not remotely sarcastic, it generally means I don't like you. Put into an equation, it would break out to be this: Me=Nice=You not liked. Anyway, I normally would not put a personal phone or text conversation online, but Cammie Jan made me chuckle so much that I couldn't resist on this one. I shall be known as "me" in this little scenario; Cammie Jan will be called "CJ"--creative, I know. I think it must be a gift from God or something. Anyway, this was our little text moment (only partially edited as some can't be repeated here):

CJ: I'm waiting for my car to be fixed and the old man next to me is reading an article about male enhancement pills. Are they a hoax? the article asks.
Me: Yes. They fail me every time.
CJ: Gross.
Me: The article asked, so I answered. :) Actually, I have no clue. But, a Dateline-type show investigated & said they're a hoax. You can share that with the man.
CJ: I'd rather not strike up a conversation with him.
Me: Hon, you're no spring chicken. This is not the time to be picky.
CJ: Shut. It. Now.
Me: I just don't want you to lose out on Mr. Right.
CJ: You're not helping.
CJ: Maybe I should take those pills.
Me: You already have a glandular problem. Let's not make it worse. Plus, there's the mustache issue to take into consideration too.
CJ: God made me what He made me. I take no credit.
Me: It's probably best you don't.
CJ: I won't. Would YOU take credit for THIS?
Me: Not so much. But to each his own, I say. :)
CJ: I just don't think I will. I was born this way--why you gotta hate?
Me: Oh, Shoog. You know I love you right down to the last hair in your bushy 'stache.
CJ: So, I'm hairy. What do you want from me?
Me: For you to utilize the spa waxing option.
CJ: Truly. Why are we friends?
Me: Because your mama pays me. That and the fact I think you're the best thing since sliced bread.
At the same time I sent that, this came from CJ:
I'm asking Brenda for a significant raise.
CJ: I'm not better than sliced bread?
Me: What can I say? I heart me some carbs.

But, the truth of the matter is that I heart me some Camilla Juanita. Cammie Jan is indeed one of the absolute best people on this earth and definitely one of the greatest influences, confidants, supporters, and examples in my life.

To think, those many, many years ago (first grade, to be exact), young Cammie Jan watched me run away from home (my mom wouldn't let me go to a friend's house for a sleepover); she sat there with my sisters and all of their friends, laughing away at me. Here we are over 20 years later and we're still laughing--only this time, it's not always me we're laughing at. (Usually, but not always.) Cammie Jan has one of the biggest hearts on this earth, gives (usually) sound advice, listens to me whine and complain, and even occasionally laughs at one of my stupid jokes. She is, in my book, perfection. So, Cammie Jan, know that you're loved from afar (and from a Kade, too)--and that you don't really have a 'stache problem. That was just me showing some love. :) Well, I must go pee, so off I go...

Vehicular Modules (a.k.a. Cars)

I am peeved. Today, I had to have the inspection done on my car and it cost me $30. This has to be done yearly--including emissions--whereas in Utah, it was every other year. Last week, I had to pay my property tax on said car (yes, in NC, they actually charge a property tax on vehicles--even those vehicles one doesn't outright own, which is utterly ridiculous) to the tune of $250, which is a decrease from what I paid last year. This is all in addition to the yearly license and registration fees I pay. Oh, and I had to pay sales tax on my property tax payment. Yes, paying tax on tax.

Anyway, I sat down and calculated how much my car costs me each month once I factor these ridiculous taxes and charges into the monthly payments, while also adding the insurance and fuel costs. Not counting oil changes or maintenance and being VERY conservative on the fuel costs, my monthly car expense is approximately $585! That's almost $600 to drive a freaking vehicle! The sad thing is that even if I drove a cheaper car, it wouldn't be saving me that much as the fuel would cost the same, the taxes wouldn't decrease that much, the insurance wouldn't drop that much, and it would take a very cheap car to get my payment to drop significantly as the current payment isn't that horrible. It works out to be over $200/month more than what I spent on my car in Utah, while my payments on my new car only went up about $100--and my insurance dropped by $25/month too. That means I'm paying over $100/month in extra fees, taxes, etc., as a chunk of my payment also goes to taxes. It's ridiculous and I do not heart it.

My thought at this late hour is that NC needs to re-think the property tax idea on vehicles, especially when it's not technically my property. The car is the property of American Honda Finance Corporation until it's paid off. Alas, I digress...but I'm still angry.

Mi Madre

On this, the day/eve we celebrate our mothers, I would like to take a moment to celebrate my wonderful mom. Mom has many nicknames--Dear Brenda, Brendella, Ma, Mama, Mamacita, Old Woman, etc. However, regardless of how I refer to her, the fact is that I have the coolest mom ever!

Mom is definitely not like other moms--or at least moms that I have known. For example, this was her birds and bees talk: "Honey, even though I hope you'll wait until marriage to have sex, you're going to do what you want to do. But, whatever you do, use protection! If you're too embarrassed to go buy condoms, I'll buy them for you. I'm not about to let you screw up your life. You have too much going for you." And with that, I had my birds and bees knowledge. (For the record, I'd be much more embarrassed to ask my mom to buy me condoms than I would be to just go buy them myself. But, the thought is what matters here...)

My mom is also infamous for her love of shopping and all things clothes. I do not fall far from the tree, but at least I came by it honestly. So, many fun memories involve spending the day or an evening with mom, getting some cool duds and usually a dinner too. Back in the day, I greatly benefited from Mom's generosity in this arena as if I saw something I wanted, but couldn't afford it, she'd buy it for me. But, it wasn't the "stuff" that mattered here--it was the fact that my mom was always willing to spend time with me and do everything she could to make sure my needs and wants were met.

Things weren't always the easiest for Mom. When she and my dad divorced, she put herself back through school, worked full-time, and had me and my older sister Kodi to take care of. Yet, despite this, she still managed to pull off many 4.0 GPA semesters and graduated with honors. I didn't get a single 4.0 in college and I only had a job to worry about--no kids or great financial worries. I am very, very proud of, and thankful for, my mom showing me that all things are possible--even when the odds seemed overwhelming.

Another time that stands out to me as a time when Ma showed her true strength is when she and my step-dad divorced. Despite the fact that she was giving up a very comfortable lifestyle and knew life would suddenly become much tougher, she did not complain. The night we moved out of the house and into a condo, we had dinner at a local drive-in cafe. The tab came to $16 and some change. Mom said, "Well, we won't be able to do that very often." I said, "Do what?" She said, "Eat out like this." It was then that I knew life had really changed. Afterall, this is the same woman, who just two months previous, had spent (along with my stepdad) over $700 on one dinner for ten of us, as we celebrated their anniversary. Perhaps this money was ill-spent, particularly considering the marital outcome, but regardless, it was spent. Two months later, $16 was a big deal. And yet--she never complained. It was just a transition in life for her.

Many, many nights...and I mean MANY...I would spend hours lying on Mom's bed while she went about doing whatever it was that she was doing and we would just chat away. She'd come and go in and out of the room, but would keep up with the conversation. Usually (well past midnight) she'd tell me it was time to go to bed and after a bit more chatting, another "midnight chat" would conclude. During college, the chats would occur several times a week. It's a miracle either one of us could function as we'd stay up so late visiting.

Three years have now passed since Mom and Scottie were divorced and life is much, much easier and better for Mom than those first several months--but her attitude is the exact same. She is just as generous, wise, concerned, involved, and conscientious of what's going on in mine and my sisters' lives--not to mention what my nephews are up to. She pays attention to each of us--but isn't intrusive. She's still one of the first people I turn to for advice, support, or for a pick-me-up talk when life isn't going so well or I'm stressed. I know she doesn't always agree with my choices and when I fall flat on my face, she's the one who is there to make sure I'm okay--not to tell me "I told you so". I have to have a third knee surgery and I want my mom to be here with me. So, I called her up and told her I need her to fly across the country and be here with me for a week. She said, "When do I need to be there?" She didn't complain about the inconvenience or cost of time and money. Mom is the type who would jump on a plane in the middle of the night to get to me if I needed her that badly.

When I told her of my plans to move across the country, without a job or apartment, to start a whole new life, she didn't tell me I was stupid or that it was a horrible plan. Rather, she said that if it's what I wanted to do, she was behind me all the way. And, she made to point out that if I needed to move back home, the door would always be open. When I went on my mission, I didn't want to have to give up using my favorite chap stick, shampoo, or hair gel. On the mission budget, there was no way I could afford such luxuries--let alone find the products locally. So, Mom would regularly make sure I had these "needs" met. When I left the MTC and found that I couldn't fit everything in to the suitcase I'd gone to the MTC with, she overnight couriered a new, larger suitcase for me. When I had my 22nd birthday dinner, she mailed my favorite salad dressing to the church member whose house we were eating at, as the dressing wasn't found locally either. When we baptized a lovely lady named Linda, I wanted to give Linda a framed photo of the Hawaii temple she'd once visited 25 years previous. There wasn't time to get it ordered, shipped, etc., through regular means. Mom went out and bought it, then overnight mailed it to me so I'd have it in time and Linda's day would be even more special. When I told her of a picture another lady we baptized had fallen in love with, Mom found a copy of the painting and then framed and matted it herself (she's very crafty), before shipping it to her. It now graces the entryway to this woman's house. My bleeding heart finds charitable purposes on a regular basis--and Mom only moderately whines before opening her wallet to help me achieve whatever it is I'm trying. Sometimes, it's a weekly thing too. And yet, she still is willing to help whatever cause I've found to be my latest.

She is a great friend and mom to all of my friends, makes sure everyone is taken care of, would make me (and any friends spending the night) breakfast on the weekends, and just all around goes out of her way to make sure I'm taken care of.

There are a million acts of kindness and fun memories I could share about my mama, but I think I've offered enough insight to let the random reader get a feel for just how special and wonderful my mom is. I hope to have even half the humanity and wisdom she has--I would be a very blessed person to have that. Ma has a wonderful example to follow, in the form of my incredible grandma; she, in turn, has given me a wonderful example to follow. Sure, Mom is not perfect (the time she picked up the wrong dog at the groomer's comes to mind--but at least she was willing to pick up my dog for me in the first place), but she's as great as they come and I'm so blessed to have her as my mama. Happy Mother's Day, Ma! I love you like a fat kid loves donuts!

License Plates

Today, my drive to work was kept interesting simply by paying attention to the license plates around me. The pimped out, bright green Audi driving next to me for the bulk of the time had a plate that read "APOSTLE1". Now, I'm not sure if the guy is claiming to be an apostle of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but I would dare bet that as I live here in the Bible belt, it would indeed be what he is claiming. Call me crazy, but I don't know as an apostle of the Lord would be driving a bright green, pimped out Audi while wearing sunglasses with bright gold earpieces. It's just not quite right to me.

Then, after staying along side my religious friend for some time, I got to the stoplight...and was stopped right next to a car that's plate said "CATER". How I would have loved to be a person behind either of us. As my plate reads "KADER", reading from left to right it would have appeared as "CATER" "KADER". What are the odds?

Anyway, while I'm thinking of vehicles, I must say that I am not hearting these recently appearing bumper stickers that read "I (heart) my wife!" I think it's great these people love their wives, but does it really take putting it on a bumper sticker to prove this? Did these men do something to royally piss off their wives to the point they had to reassure them that they love them by applying a cheap piece of paper with adhesive to their vehicles? Or, is it a self-affirmation that they need to see each day in order to keep them motivated to stay in their marriage? From the few I've seen so far, I can tell you it's not that these are Don Juans or Casanovas of any sort that are fending off the potential marriage threats (i.e., mistresses) by letting it be known up front that they are married. I just do not get it. However, the vehicular accessory choices of others does help to make my commute fly by as I end up spending most of my time behind the wheel pondering these sorts of thing, so for that I'm grateful...even if I do think these people are crazy half the time.

Friends, Family, and Fun!

An updated slide show/video without the problems the first one had...