So I think I was stupid enough in my last blog post to admit that lately I've been putting facebook before my time with God.  Hmmm... coincidentally (I'm sure), lately my blackberry has been fighting my facebook application.  I can almost hear the conversation taking place in Heaven:

Moses: Hey God, that fat guy is putting some 20th century technology idol before you.  I say you smite him!
God: I could, but in between wolfing down the twinkies, he tries.  I think I'll just give him a second chance and mess with his technology instead.
Moses: Please don't send me back in the desert for second guessing you, but are you sure??? This one seems particulary dense!

Genius back on earth: Hmmm... for the first time ever and right after I realized my facebook time was coming before my time with God, my phone won't allow me to access my facebook.  Well, I guess now I have more time to spend in prayer and.... wait a minute... now is the perfect time to get my Twitter account (blogbyfattom) going again. God, I'm a genius!

     So as you can see, I need your prayers.  Not for any of the above, actually not even for me, but I need you to start praying that my wife will find a good job.  Yes we are hurting for money, but who isn't? I really just need her to go back to work so I can blog more.  I noticed, as I'm sure you have, my blogging has been cut immensely now that she has extra time to try to control me.  It's basically like what happened with me and my co-worker getting stuck on the elevator yesterday:

Co-worker: Hey, do you have to breathe so hard, who knows how long we'll be stuck in here and you are sucking all the air out of here!
Me: Grrrr!
Co-worker: What are you doing? Why are you biting me?
Me (between bites): Survival!
Co-worker: But we've been stuck in here less than a minute!

      That's me and my wife.  She is always trying to control me.  If she sees me relaxing or having fun, she swoops in for the kill: "What are you doing hon?" If I answer honestly with, "blogging" or something like that she immediately hits me with something cruel like, "Okay, have fun."  So instead of answering honestly, I always have to pretend I am about to save the world: "What? Me? Oh I am just researching how I could possibly use my gas to block the oil spill which would also save all the cute baby seals that I didn't harm with the tuna sandwich I had for lunch."
       So as you can see, I've got a real conundrum here.  I need your help.  Pray that my wife will find a good job and start bringing home the bacon so I can see how much more I can expand my girth.  With her out of the way, I'll be able to be really productive with all the stuff that really matters (ie. blogging, facebook, twitter, etc.).  Since you are praying anyway, put in a good word for me with The Man Upstairs that he doesn't smite me.  I would do it myself, but @blogbyfattom has some tweets to twit...or something like that.

        

      It's definitely time for more ink.  Does anyone know how much it hurts to get a tattoo on the forehead?  I'm not talking a little sissy one like Charles Manson or anything,  I'm talking about a giant Christian Fish symbol that covers my entire forehead.  Yes, I know I already have a cross on me, but it isn't always visible and lately, that's the only way someone would even know I'm a Christian.
     When I think about how someone should know I'm a Christian, the greatest show ever immediately comes to mind: that of course, being David and Goliath.  The little boy with the perfect hair and his talking dog walking off into the sunset singing, "They'll know we our Christians by our love, by our love, by our love, YES they will know we our Christians by our lovvvvvveeeeeee."  Excellent, going by that, I am the perfect Christian.  Unfortunately, right now I'm hearing Goliath giving me his, "But Tommmmyyy, I don't think God means self-love."  Darnit! Why is every talking dog smarter than me???   I've got to love others? Love my neighbor like my self?  I've been a decent enough neighbor...to the people RIGHT next door to me. Oh...I'm not supposed to be so literal on that one? I'm actually supposed to be nice all my neighbors... including one that isn't always nice to me?  Especially that one???   Good grief!  Instead of being nice or showing any kind of Christian love, I just make sure I'm ready to rip him apart when he says something stupid to me... or even when he doesn't. 
     I take great pride in knowing and reading my Bible.  Heck... I'm such a good Christian, I even have an app for it on my blackberry.  I chose a reading plan that was perfect for me called "Project 345". It is a daily reading that averages 3 minutes and 45 seconds a day.  So, for those of you that need me to spell it out for you, I'm such a good Christian that I've relegated spending time in the Word to my time on the pot, and that's on a good day.  There have been far too many days lately where I didn't "have time" for my daily bible reading.  Instead of doing Project 345, I created my own "Facebook 345".  It is similar, but instead of being on it for 3 minutes and 45 seconds, I check it 345 times a day.  It wasn't too long ago where the first thing I did when I woke up every day is meditate on the Word... pen or highlighter in hand, with anticipation of what would be revealed to me in that day. Now? Well, who has time for God when I've got to show the world how witty I think I am?
     Speaking of knowing my Bible, truth be told, I know my Bible, like I listen to my wife.  What? Your in the mood? I'm listening!  Oh, you're telling me something I don't want to hear?  When did Charlie Brown's teacher get in here???  As it is with my wife, the same goes for my bible reading.  Don't let anyone judge me by what I eat or drink???  YES!!! In your face all you judgmental Christians!  Don't get drunk? What? I can only guess Paul was a little Tipsy when he wrote that one!
      Luckily, I have the forgiveness thing down.  Whenever I wrong someone, I make it very clear that they have  to forgive me.  Jesus commanded it and just as he died for your sins, you've got to forgive me.  Sorry, I didn't make the rules, but you've got to follow them.  Of course when someone wrongs me, there will be hell to pay!  Forgiveness, schmorgiveness! 
     Well, at least I still pray.  Maybe not on a daily basis, but at least everytime I see a police officer in my rearview mirror, play the lottery, or every time I get a vasectomy (I'm on my 7th).  I guess I need to start praying more publicly because Jesus seemed to love the hypocrites that did it for show.  Wait a minute... scratch that, I guess that is what the tattoo is for.  So almost exactly a year to the day of getting my tattoo, I'll repeat my credo: Evangelize always, use tattoos when necessary.

        

 I guess now that school is out, this should be safe to publish.  I was recently the proud parent of a "Star of the Week." Yep, I thought, my 3rd grader must have gotten her old man's brains.  My excitement waned just a tad when I found out that all of the students were chosen at one point or another in the school year.  However, I was quickly excited when I found out that the kids would be interviewing me as well. I was ready to let my star shine!
    As they sat criss-cross applesauce on the carpet in front of me, I thought I may as well impress them right away by letting them know I was an Ironman, and therefore, a stud.  "Isn't that like really hard to do?" Well, for most mortals, yes. "Aren't you kinda fat for that?" Look Junior, you've got ten years max until I see you on The Biggest Loser so you can shut your pie hole! Okay, who else has a question? What's my favorite color? That's easy, tacos. Favorite sport? Hmmm.. Is midget tossing a sport? Nooooo. Okay, then definitely facebook!  I was on a roll until it came up that my daughter got a bead stuck in her ear when she was much younger.
    I was suddenly last week's news.  A real bead? Did it hurt? What color was it? Has your dad ever heard of deodorant? How did you get it out? Did you cry? Even worse than all the mundane questions was little Ralphina Wiggum in the front row.  She proceeded to tell me every time she had ever seen a doctor.  Right as I was telling her that I didn't care about her dad's rash, I thought of a guest pastor that spoke at our church recently.
    When he isn't in the pulpit, Pastor Scott Bloyer  coaches mixed martial arts to professional fighters.  That's it! Maybe I can ground and pound this little girl into silence? Then I thought a little more about his message. It wasn't violence, it was prayer. Apparently, he grew up in the hood and after getting in trouble with the law, his mom told him that he was going to end up dead or in prison.  He didn't listen, but every single day she would faithfully pray for him. That's dedication and that's love in action.
      Sometimes when I think of my own childhood, I resent my friends who had fathers that were active in their lives.  My dad never went to my games, we almost never had a two-sided conversation, and I can count everything he ever gave me one hand. However, he prayed for me daily.  Not just me either, I was one of eight kids and he would pray for all of us on a daily basis.  My siblings all turned out pretty rotten, but I turned out pretty darn good and I am pretty sure my dad's constant prayer had a lot to do with it. 
    It hit me somewhere in the middle of applying a choke-hold to this little girl, that maybe I should be release the pressure of my death grip,  and tighten my grip on my direct line to God.  Sure I pray already, "God please let this cheeseburger hit both love handles," or if I find out someone is dying from a rare disease, "I've got mad cow! Again?" or even when I buy a lotto ticket, but I don't pray like I should: constantly, in thanksgiving, for my loved ones, and even my enemies.  I'll start with praying for strength as I add this to my "to do" list (as in I am blessed that I am able "to do" this without persecution). I'll also pray that you join me. 

        

     So I've been thinking about starting my own religion.  Not one of these boring ones like Christianity or Judaism, but a cool one.  Maybe one where we can all become Gods or something.  If not that, we should at least have a bunch of hot chicks waiting for us after we die (of obesity).  Wait a minute... those no good Joseph Smith and Muhammad beat us to the punch.  No worries though, because I thought of another way where I can become like a god, we can all worship each other, AND we'll all become rich off our bazookas.  You in?  Okay, just help me figure out what idea we'll set up to multi-level market, and you can be the very person in my downline (you better hurry though because I only have one spot left).
     In case you are wondering, like most of my ideas, this one isn't original.  I actually got it from a facebook experience I had this week.  Someone had one of those cryptic posts that is obviously written in code intended just for certain people.  It started off benign enough, something like, "I've never seen my brother so happy, I'm really proud of him."  So if you are like me, you just assume her brother either just got out of prison or the closet and you move on.  However, before I could move on there was another post along the lines of, "Yayyy this is the best thing ever."  Now my curiosity is piqued a little bit.  I mean parole is nice and gay is gay, but the best thing ever???  Boom! Before I know It, another one, and this one was the coolest one yet: "Set your people on fire and they won't expire." (Someone remind me to get that for my next tattoo- possibly along my lower back so it shows when I'm sporting my thong whale tail). 
     Whoa.  This was quickly getting much deeper than my usual facebook posts of, "I just drank a glass of water."  At this point, I had to know more.Sure enough, like the sucker I am, I fell for it and had to comment, "Do you guys want to just keep talking in code, or do you want to let the rest of us know what in the hell you are talking about?" We've got a fish on the hook folks is what they had to be saying, because instantly, and I mean it had to be typed already and the guy had his finger on the post button, I got a response that said, www.marketamerica.com .  Not to be outdone, I quickly responded with, www.identifyjewelry.com (happens to be my wife's business and the first thing I could think of under that immense pressure).   I then thought that I would check out this market america  and got about .2 seconds into it before I started finding out I could have residual income and that I didn't need to work for the man anymore.  In another .2 seconds, I became an African American woman, "Oh no you didn't!"  
     Soliciting me for a MLM scam is like trying to teach Don Corleone's kid about  the mob.  My parents were members of every downline in history.  If there was a new get rich quick scheme my Pop was all over it.  In his day he peddled fat burning cookies (that tasted just like dog poop), oil rigs, and energy drinks.  The energy drink had "17 different herbs and minerals" and the great thing was my Dad would pronounce the "H".  So while the rest of America was trying find Waldo, my Dad knew where all the Herbs were. 
     Although my Dad was the bigger sucker, my Mom was involved with two of my favorites.  The first was some sort of hand creme that kept your hands soft but kept your nails hard or something dumb like that.  After a few days of actually using the product, my Mom's thumb was swollen to about 3 times its normal size and the color of her nail would rotate between green, purple, black, and back to green.    Even after I mentioned that the next step was probably amputation, she would come back with, "Yeah but feel how soft my hands are."  I had to give it to her though, because whatever infectious liquid was filling up her thumb, it  sure was soft.
     My all time favorite was the "medical  tape" that was supposed to result in weight loss.  Well, about the time when I thought I was going to just die from anticipation, they finally arrived. My Mom put it right on the "pressure point" of her wrist and waited for those pounds to shed  right off.  The "medical tape"  were band-aids and if I didn't see it for myself, I would never believe it either (so I'm forgiving you in advance for thinking I am making this up).  Anyway, the first one had Kermit the Frog in diapers on it, and it only got worse from there.
     Anyhoo, back to these other kooks.  So, I immediately got a friend request from the guy that posted marketamerica.  Now, if you know me, you know that I'm a fool for adding another sucker to "Tom's dumb facebook post of the day" audience (okay maybe it is 73 dumb posts a day but who is counting), but even I was smart enough to draw the line on this one.   Now that I dodged that bullet, its time for me and you to get rich.  I don't know what we'll market yet, but I'm going to start working on cool sayings (so far I've got, "We'll make you think, so you don't stink!"  and "If you think you are fat, you should see our leader").  Thanks to this other crew, I even know how we can use social networking to our advantage.  Whenever one of our clique posts something on facebook, the others must immediately "like" it and leave cool mysterious comments (we should probably stay away from "If you set your people on fire, they won't expire" just in case they have that one trademarked).  Let's give this the good old college try, and then if it doesn't work, we'll get back to combining  Mormonism and Islam (for profit of course...or is it "prophet" ---that is so good that we might have to use that one to lure people into our MLM trap).

        

      My pastor made me think recently.  I know it is a rare thing because they usually just go on and on and on about something or another that is usually boring and preachy (I'm pretty sure that is why they get paid the big bucks).  Anyhoo, this past Sunday was different. 
     He was sharing about a time where he was at a pivot in life and was using a basketball analogy.  Someone passes a ball to you and you can pivot right or you can pivot left, but you can't do both (unless you play for the Lakers- what can I say, they're all Nuggets fans in this neck of the woods).  Anyway, he was at a crossroads in his life and was praying for direction.  He felt that he very clearly had God stop him from his usual whiney prayers. It was as if God was telling him, "Don't worry about all that stuff.  I know your needs and I'll meet them.  Now, when you get to Heaven, what three things am I going to tell you that I'm really glad that you did?"
    It made me think.  It made me think even harder when he said to throw out the obligatory stuff of being a Father, husband, poor blogger, etc.   Hmmm...if you take away being a father, what have I really done?  Nothing.
    Since I'm a big loser in that category, I slightly twisted God's question that he never even asked me to begin with.   "What are three lessons you learned in life?"  Hmmm...that is a great question God,...I may have even learned one of them recently.  More accurately, I am probably learning one of them right now.
     I am currently living in the most beautiful place that I have ever lived.  I guess you've got to see it, but my daily view is the Rockies.  They are beyond gorgeous, and I think they have provided my first lesson.  Humor me for a second and think about a beautiful day.  Most of us are probably thinking about a clear blue sky on a sunny day.  Not even a cloud in the sky, right?  That's what I always thought too.  However, recently, my eyes have been opened.
     On a clear blue day, the mountains are definitely beautiful.  However, put some dark storm clouds behind them, and the snow caps glow and seem to jump off a canvas.  It is literally almost breathtaking.  Why does this contrast  work and can it mean anything in my life?
     I don't know about you, but when things are going good, I've got a bad habit of telling God, "Thanks big guy, but I've got it from here!"  When things are running smoothly, who needs God right?  However, when things aren't going so smooth, that is when I get down on my knees and remember that without him, I am nothing.  In the dark times, HIS light really shines.  Unfortunately, or is it fortunately, I am going through one of those times right now. So since this is occasionally supposed to be funny and your sides are probably hurting from all of the laughing you have been doing on this blog, I won't punish you anymore.  Instead, I'll go thank God for the temporary dark clouds that make me really appreciate his light.. 

        

     Opposites.  Supposedly they attract. I'm not sure if I really believe that but it might explain why skinny, attractive women with small woman-boobs are always throwing themselves at me.  Anyway, if you have kids, I'm guessing you have played the opposite game.
     Here is how it usually goes in my house.  "Daddy, I do NOT love you."  Then I come up with a real zinger like, "I do NOT love you either.  I do NOT want to give you a kiss."  It usually goes on like that for several hours until we are NOT having fun anymore (no..really this time, NOT an opposite NOT).  I was playing the opposite game with my daughter the other night and was prepared to hear how much she does NOT love me again.  Instead I got, "Daddy, you smell like beautiful butterflies."  Huh?  Sweetie, we are playing the opposite game, don't you mean that I do NOT smell like beautiful butterflies?  No.  Apparently my beautiful butterflies smell really bad or my daughter is finally maturing in her playing of this centuries old game. 
     I say centuries old because I think Paul (formerly of Saul fame) must have playing the opposite game when he wrote his letter to the Romans almost 2000 years ago.  I assume he was playing it when in Romans 7:15-19 he writes, "I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.  As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.  I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do- this I keep on doing." 
     Maybe Paul wasn't playing the game, maybe he was just drunk.  On the very off chance that he was sober and wasn't writing opposites, what does it mean to me...and you?  I mean this is Paul, writer of a ton of the New Testament.  If he was struggling to do good, what in the heck kind of hope does a big fat loser like me have?  Wait a minute, I can identify with what he says just a little later, "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks to be God- through Jesus Christ our Lord!"   Yes!  If I am playing the opposite game, I'd have to say that is NOT the best hope of all!

        

     I've got a challenge for you.  It's got nothing to do with how many twinkies you can eat in a minute or which one of us looks better in a sumo wrestler thong.  In fact, it has nothing to do with any of that stuff, but I'm not going to tell you what it does have to do with until the end of this blog...and no, the challenge isn't to see if you can actually make it to the end of the blog.
     I lost yet another person in my life recently.  Doug was a former neighbor of mine and passed away almost two weeks ago.  I'm not going to attempt to judge him or speculate where he is spending eternity.  However, like some of my other recent losses, I can't help but contemplate about what I actually did... and what more I could have done to help influence where they are now. 
     With Doug, I actually did okay. I'm just being honest, but Doug wasn't necessarily a guy I enjoyed spending a lot of time with.  For lack of a better word, he was kind of goofy.  He looked like Randy Quaid, but had a bigger gut and if possible, a bigger honker.  He was one of those guys that laughed at his jokes for a little bit too long even though they were almost never funny.  On a more serious note, he also battled alcoholism unsuccessfully.   
     If I had to do a thirty second review in my mind to make a list of ways I showed God's love to Doug while he was still alive it would include: inviting him and his family over for Christmas Dinner, leaving firewood on his doorstep, playing with his kids, offering him employment when he lost his job because of his battle with the bottle, inviting him and his wife to a night of worship at my church, buying him a "Celebrate Recovery" Bible (which he returned), inviting him to a men's Bible Study, offering to pay for a marriage encounter weekend and offering to watch his kids for that same weekend, and going with him and his wife to the Harvest Festival where I prayed for Doug and his marriage.  So not terrible, right?   However, how much more could I have done?  More importantly, considering Doug isn't coming back, what am I doing with people that haven't passed away yet?
     I have been in Colorado for almost 75 days and in that time I believe I have invited zero people to come to church with me.  I've met lots of nice folks and one jerk, but they all need God, yet the number again is zero.  How about you?  How many have you invited to Church since you made your New Years Resolutions?  If you have actually invited people to church, have they included more than people you already knew were Christians?  Here is the challenge (just in case anyone is still reading this): how many people are you going to invite to go to church with you in the next thirty days? 10? 5? 1? ZERO???  I'm challenging you (and me) to make sure that number is NOT zero.  Especially as we approach Easter Sunday people are more open to going to church, we just need to ask them.  If I learned anything from that kind of goofy former neighbor of mine, it is that we should never give up on anyone and we probably don't have as much time as we think.  Are you up for the challenge?

        

      So Tiger Woods and the Easter Bunny hop into a bar and the Easter Bunny says, "Stop poking me!"  Not funny?  I know. That is exactly my point: Getting old is not funny.
      I remember the first sign t
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     Thinking back on it, maybe I should have been a little suspicious the way the guy on the other line kept repeating my questions, "uh...yeah... we take reservations."  Maybe he was hesitant because he misunderstood me and thought I was asking for reservations that night.   "Do we have any room for this Friday night?" he echoed me again, "I'll have to check."  Being the big romantic that I am, I wasn't leaving anything to chance for my Valentine.  More importantly, being the big spender that I am not, I was using our entertainment book to save some money.  Being new in town I don't really know the romantic restaurants yet, but I figured since I was out of the drive thru section of my book of coupons, I'd be fine.  

     The first hint that I might not be fine, is when we pulled up into the strip mall where the restaurant was located.  All the fancy restaurants are in strip malls, right?  Ahhh...there it stood, right between "Ink It" tattoo parlor and "slap'em and smack'em" bar.  My wife, being the observant woman that she is, quickly noted the ambiance with, "Is that a naked women on that neon beer sign?"  Not surprisingly, there was an open parking space right in front of the restaurant.  "Are we really going to eat here?" my wife asked.  "Well yeah, we've got a reservation." I replied because I thought it was better than, "I've got a coupon!" "Reservation??? There's nobody else in the entire restaurant!"  Hmmm...she had me there.  Needless to say, we ate elsewhere.

     That wasn't the first time I botched a romantic date with my wife.  Always the fan of Mexican food, she CLAIMED to like the authentic stuff that you find in the "hole in the wall" type places.  We were going to see James Taylor that night so I half the battle was done for me, I just needed a really good hole in the wall Mexican restaurant to seal the deal.  I had just the place in mind and I was just sure she was going to love it.  I could tell I was wrong immediately when she blurted out, "We're eating at a gas station!!!  Your kidding right???"  I could see where she could easily make that mistake so I had to correct her, "No, technically we are eating at the Mexican restaurant IN the gas station."  To which she replied, "We're REALLY eating at a gas station???"

      So unlike most of my blogs, this one actually has a point, three of them actually (the first two are to help my fellow cupids this Valentines Day):
1. Just because you were able to get a reservation, doesn't  necessarily mean you "lucked out."
2. I don't care how good the food might be, pass on any restaurant where the customer behind you can say, "fill me up at pump # 4."
3. Last, but certainly not least, thank you to my Nemesis.  Shooting out these kids of ours may have turned you into a sissy causing you to now be extra picky on where we spend our rare nights out together, but you have stuck with me through thick and thicker. 

Happy Valentines Day, I love you.

        

     My favorite commercial has got to be the beer commercial that touts the, "Real men of genius."  If you've been in a cave and don't know what I'm talking about, I'll give you a sample one that I'm sure I'll butcher. "Here's to you Mr. Shout the obvious, yelling insightful words to the wide receiver after he catches a pass like...RUN."  Okay, maybe it isn't the same without the jingle, but I've been busy coming up my own ... << MORE >>