WTF. BRB. JK. Our language is being infiltrated with acronyms in our daily language. I’d like to introduce a new acronym I believe can help us save some breath when discussing this conversation-rising topic: EOTW.

EOTW stands for “end of the world,” also known as Armageddon, the apocalypse, good-bye-everything-as-we-know-it world. I’m hearing more and more about it in my everyday conversations with friends—well, really just guy friends—and I believe it now deserves a conversational shortcut.

I didn’t really know there was such a movement to prepare for EOTW. But like learning a new word then seeing it everywhere, I couldn’t believe all the obvious and subtle things many men were doing to prepare.

The most obvious EOTW advocate is my ex-coworker AK, who is proud to be the poster child for emergency preparedness. Within a week of joining our staff, AK brought to our attention (often from off-the-record quotes from past church prophets, which is ironic considering the fact he isn’t Mormon—really) the pending destruction of the American nation if we did not return to what the founders originally designed—a Constitutionalist society. (Please see his comment on my last post.)

AK wasn’t hopeful, so he would frequently make weekend trips to the welfare center to stock up on wheat, beans, etc. (“Hey, did you know they are having a super sale on long-grain wheat?”) and designing an EOTW compound on his land in rural Utah.

But AK has been the most extreme I’ve encountered. I have other guy friends who aren’t building compounds but personal arsenals. Let me introduce you to my friend below—the Bearded One. He likes to buy assault rifles and assemble what he calls “Personal Protection Kits” or even “zombie kits.”

In a recent G-chat conversion, he asked

Beard: how’s your zombie kit coming along?

me: zombie kit?

Beard: zombie kit. i’m still working on mine

me: are you referring to building an arsenal to fight zombies in the EOTW?

Beard: if it was the EOTW, you wouldn’t need a zombie kit. you only need a zombie kit to fight the dead when they come back to share the earth with the living.

me: that could be an EOTW

And then I have guy friends who aren’t consciously preparing, but subconsciously behaving as if EOTW will happen. A few months ago I went to dinner with my friend DJ. As the hostess led us to our table, I took the seat in the corner. DJ hesitated for a moment, and finally asked if we could switch seats. Curious to such a request, I asked what does it matter. He told me that he prefers to sit where his back is against the wall, which gives him a clear view of the entire room, in case something happens. I rolled my eyes and switched seats.

And it gets even more subtle after that. My friend Ryan doesn’t wear flip-flops when he flies in case for any reason he has to run as fast as he can away from the plane. My dad buys Chapstick and white socks EVERY time he goes to the store, as his greatest fear is to have chapped lips and wet feet in the EOTW.

My most personal experience with real EOTW was about two and half years ago. I was in Israel, standing on Mt. Carmel overlooking the Jezreel Valley. My guide told me the battle of Armaggedon will commence in this valley, as stated in Revelations. Just then I looked up to see five F-16s from the Israeli army fly overhead to a nearby air force base, and I thought, “yup, I can definitely see a war starting here.”

So whether you think a the world will be infected by a disease causing vampirism, invaded by aliens, flooded by water, or iced over. Or maybe you fear machines will take over in the future and send cyborg assassins to the present to terminate future human leaders, either stop watching movies or start getting EOTW ready.

My thanks to Atkins and the Beard for inspiring me to start a 72-hour kit and my own zombie kit, respectively. And if these guys are right and EOTW is really coming,  I encourage everyone not only to start getting ready with gear and supplies, but also to start repenting. 

**So if you want to date Jenny, take her to the new movie The Road starring Viggo Mortensen. She read the book a year ago and it’s her favorite EOTW story.

I feel a little bad about my last post. I really hope this guy doesn’t google my name and find it. Anyhoo, after reading my cousin’s comment on my last post (Hi Kelly!), I want to continue to discuss this topic of “pickiness.” So, let’s dive into this a little deeper and talk about The List.

The List refers to the list of attributes or traits a girl wants to find in a man, and I’ve broken it down into 3 different tiers.

• Must-Haves: The no-exceptions rules. These include religion, family aspirations, morals, some personality traits, etc.

• Nice-to_Haves: Things that are desirable in a mate but not deal breakers. These include common interests, family background, physical features, job, money habits, etc.

• Definitely-Nots: things that make you say “I would rather die a horrible death than marry that guy.” These include mental illnesses, addictions, really bad personality traits, etc.

The List is derived from experiences from previous relationships. For example, I seriously dated a guy who suffered from clinical depression, and it was horrible. So one of my Definitely-Nots is depression. Sorry, I just don’t think I can deal with it. Or let’s consider my best friend. Her List states the guy has to be a professional. She is a professional herself (a lawyer), and it’s just been a problem for her in the past dating guys who are insecure and intimidated by her success.

Granted, some items on The List are superficial like  “6’ is my minimum” or “he has to save the world from terrorists.” This is often a result of watching too many romantic movies. But The List changes over time as you live and learn what really matters and what doesn’t. Now I want someone who “holds my hair back when I’m puking” or “isn’t in a bad mood all the time.”

So when you say we’re “picky,” it’s because we know ourselves. We know what makes us happy and what doesn’t. The other day I asked my dad, “What would you think if I married a humble sports coach who made only $40,000 a year,” to which he replied, “it all depends on the guy.” Yup, it’s about the guy. He’s when everything you thought you cared about goes right out the window.

**So if you want to date Jenny, you have to be 6’ tall, 185 lbs, thick hair and beautiful blue eyes, and your second toe can’t be longer than the first. You must either be a doctor or a lawyer who won a NCAA title in tennis in college and started a non-profit organization helping women start small businesses in Africa. You also have to bake a killer chocolate cake (but not vanilla), speak French and Chinese, and play Stairway to Heaven upside down with your eyes closed.

Just kidding!

I just had another conversation with a group of guys and girls about breast implants—and this one was particularly disturbing. I’m not sure why this topic always comes up (maybe it’s because Utah is 2^nd to California in most breast augmentations a year), but it seems to more often than not among groups of single adults.

In this conversation, one young, single man compared breast implants to braces—like it was a normal pubescent defect that should be corrected. I immediately was aghast at the statement—telling him that was the stupidest thing I’ve heard. When we live in society where women will feel that if they have small breasts they must have not grown in right (like crooked teeth) and need major surgery in order to correct them. A deviated septum? Sure. Breast Implants? C’mon! (I was later told by a source that this individual had a “fund” set aside for his future wife’s surgery.)

Boobs are overrated anyway. Many large-chested women often complain about their “girls.” They get in the way of exercising, your clothes don’t fit as well, and your upper back is constantly aching.

What I don’t get is how parents reward their daughters with boob jobs for a graduation present. How does one encourage their daughter to increase her intelligence with a reward to increase her breast size? Doesn’t make sense to me.

What if we lived in a world where guys lusted after college degrees as they do breasts? Women could show off those instead.

“Dude, did you see the degrees on that chick? Yea, biology and exercise science. Those are awesome!”

But it wouldn’t be fair for me to assume how a woman with a small chest feels. I’m no Dolly Parton, but I’m no 12-year-old girl either. I can say that I do feel sorry that my small-chested friends feel they have to go such extremes to attract men.

My advice? If you’re so self-conscience about it, then fix it and move on with life. Just get a respectable size and stay away from the porn stars. You don’t want guys to have to hold their hand under their chin just to keep their eyes on your face.

But I’d love to see more women reject the notion that large breasts is the answer. So how ‘bout it girls? Instead of using your hard earned money (or your parent’s hard earned money) to go under the knife, why not think about using that money towards…I don’t know…grad school?

**So if you want to date Jenny, don’t ever mention you are saving money for your wife to get a boob job. It’d end right then and there.

Sometimes you have those moments that remind you just how single you really are. I had just that moment when I suddenly had an extra ticket to The Police concert with only a couple hours to find a replacement.

T - 120 minutes
Excited! I first call my bff. She’d appreciate the ticket. No answer. Maybe she was away from her phone. Try again. No answer. Again. No answer. Crap.

T - 110
Still optimistic. Time to start other calls. Not sure who to call but start scrolling my address book. “All right,” I think. “Who is worth a $100 ticket?”

Immediately plan of action: eliminate every guy who

A) I never called back

B) never called me back

C) is engaged or has a girlfriend

D) I don’t want to give the wrong impression that I’m asking him out

Hmmm…doesn’t leave me a lot of options. Let me think for a minute.

My strategy: send out a mass text and take the first to accept.

T-90
Anxious. No one has responded. Still have some time, but I keep scrolling. Diggin’ deeper. I go back to the elimination list. Wonder if Joe is bitter about never calling him back. What the hell…I call. Answering machine. No message. Probably for the better.

T - 60
Getting really nervous. Okay. Don’t want to waste a ticket. Just want someone fun. Why is it that no one answers his/her phone when you really need them? How about a co-worker; maybe he’d like the ticket. His text replies “Thanks but no thanks. Go ask out Starbucks boy.” Believe me, if I had a better option, I wouldn’t be calling.

T - 45
Frustrated. Forget boys. Who needs them? I call my girl friend. Nope. Can’t go because she’s going with a group to see a movie. If only she had known earlier that day. I don’t buy it. You’ll pass to see Sting live for a movie? Christian Bale will be here next week. Sting won’t. Don’t tell me you can’t break plans for a movie. Maybe there’s a cute boy in the group. Jealous.

T - 40
Try another. I call my engaged friend. She’d appreciate a free concert. I call. Says she might be able to go but on one condition: I’d have to go 45 minutes out of my way to pick her up and wait until she’s finished dinner with her fiancé. Doesn’t really make it easy for me. This is what happens when you lose a friend to marriage. She’d rather sit and watch tv with her fiancé.

T - 35
Annoyed. I call my older brother. Family can be fun, right? He flat out said he had no desire to go. Hates concerts. Do I appreciate the honesty or prefer a made-up excuse?

T - 30
Desperate. Really digging deep into the address book now. I call a friend I haven’t talked to in 6 months. No answer. I even call a person I got their number from a party, but never really intended to call. I don’t really know what to say to him/her. “Hey! I never call you because I don’t really have a reason or desire to hang out with you, but I kind of don’t have any friends right now, and I’m hoping you’ll step in as a pitch hitter.” No answer. He/She probably had no desire to hang with me either.

T - 20
Depressed. No returned calls. Sigh. I guess the cool single people have plans on Saturday nights. I take one last desperate attempt and call my bff. She always has weekend plans but maybe… Wait? She answers! No plans and you want to go? And you’re way excited? You can be ready in 20 minutes? Awesome. She came with wet hair and all.

T - 0
Rockin’ out! The concert and Sting (of course) was amazing.

Ultimately, I just wanted to give the ticket to someone who’d really appreciate it, and I did. Mission accomplished!

**So if you want date Jenny, know she likes to go to concerts and sometimes gets tickets at the last minute because she’s single. (People want her to find a date.) But that’s unpredictable, and it might be best just ask her to a concert. Below is a list of upcoming concerts Jenny would like to see.

8/4 – James Taylor – USANA
8/18 – Jack Johnson with Rogue Wave and Neil Halstead - USANA
8/27 – Dave Matthews Band - USANA

I had a birthday not too long ago. I turned 27. I had a harder time with this one because I’ve officially entered my “late twenties.” When I was 26, I was still considered in my “mid-twenties,” but once you enter your “late twenties” as a single LDS woman, people start writing you off.

This was confirmed one day last March when I realized nobody had called me for the last 3 days—no friends, no family, no one. As I sat there and looked at my lifeless phone I thought, “is this the beginning of the end? Had I reached that moment when singles in their late 20s fall off the radar and are forever lost and forgotten?”

Well, I told my dad that the next day that no one loves me anymore, he sent the word out for people to call me. I then get a call from my brother Troy the next day, Thursday, March 28, wishing me a “Happy Birthday.” After a moment of confusion, and I realized my dad must have said something to my family. I told Troy thanks but to save it for another couple months: my birthday is May 28.

That evening I also received an email from my brother Brandon in California who wished me a happy birthday and asked how I was doing. After I rolled my eyes I emailed back, “I’m doing good, but I’ll be doing better in 2 months when it’s ACTUALLY my birthday.”

Even though Brandon, Troy, and Dad don’t know when my birthday is, it makes me feel a little better that my family comes through with “it’s-so-and-so’s-birthday” text messaged across the Badger family network.

When my birthday did finally come my friends took me golfing and whipped up some homemade strawberry shortcake.

**So if you’re dating Jenny, just know she likes golf and strawberry shortcake, and she now doesn’t like birthdays.

They say you should date a lot of different people. Choosing a life partner is like choosing a pair of shoes. To find the perfect pair, you have to try on a lot of shoes, walk around in them, try them with and without socks, try them with different outfits. (I could keep running with this analogy, but you get the point.) So, my friends and I are trying on a lot of pairs of shoes right now.

I’ve taken a good friend’s lead on nicknaming guys with whom you are…let’s say…socializing. (I don’t want to use the word “dating” because it carries too much subjective connotation.) But when we’re talking about guys, and believe me, girls talk A LOT about guys—whether they’re friends, love interests, has-beens, a never-was, whatever— we often have to use pneumonic devices to remember which guy we’re actually talking about. With so many common names like Jon, Jeff, Dave, and Steve, we often forget who we’re dealing with in our conversations (especially among a group of 2 or more girls).

We don’t necessarily replace guys’ real names with the fake ones. We may just say…

“So I bumped into Dave the other day at the store…”
“Wait. Dave….Who is Dave again?”
“Dave? You remember. He’s the one with The Lips.”
“Ah, yes. Daaaave. Please go on…”

…and we’re all right back on the same page again and the story continues.

Below are some actual nicknames we’ve used in the past year.

Mr. Symphony
The Italian
The Beard
Max on Main
Lips
Hot One
The Golfer
Mistletoe Matt
Carson the Crush
Sweater Party Scott

Anyway, you get the point. It’s just an easy way to keep stories (both past and present) straight among girlfriends. (And if we get our heart broken over the guy, we can seperate ourselves from the emotional pain of a personal name and remember him only by an impersonal nickname.)

**So if you date Jenny or one of her friends and merit a nickname, you probably won’t ever know you had one.