HR

I haven't talked about her for a while, but rest assured, Herminda is still around. I know she's still around because she saw me naked today. Twice.

For those unfamiliar, a few years ago I "hired" someone to come clean my house every other week. I put "hired" in quotes because I'm not exactly sure if that's what I did. Herminda is a good friend of my uncle and for years he would pay her to come do some basic cleaning so she could make some extra money. We're not talking hard labor here--Herminda is in her 60s, and while she's very healthy and would probably vacuum my roof without problem if I asked her to, we generally avoid letting her do anything that makes her bend over.

My uncle moved to California and Herminda asked him if he knew anyone else who needed help. He told her she should just retire and he would pay her "pension" but she rolled her eyes at that and told him she wants to keep doing actual work as long as she's able. So that's when he called me.

I felt like a snob even considering it, but at the time I was working eleventy thousand hours a week and was frankly eager to pay someone to come do my laundry since no one else was doing it anymore and it had piled up so high that I had to buy a second house just to store it.

After one Herminda visit I was completely sold on the whole arrangement and thereafter started speaking in a British accent and asked my friends to call me Lord McCann from then on.

I really can't go back to this gym again. For real this time.

You guys.

There's a gym right next to my office so most days I take some time in the afternoon to go workout and get all swole and gainzzz and stuff. A lot of the people I work with do the same so it's sort of like a sweaty office party every afternoon, but with lots of other offices as well.

So today I walked over to the gym at my usual time. It was full of everyone I know. I changed into my gym clothes. I was wearing bike shorts and a t-shirt that used to fit me back when I was young and cute and desirable.

The workout I did was one I do often. I bike a little and run a little and lift weights a little and not always in that order. I don't have any science or results to validate this as an effective routine. It's just a thing I do until I get tired because I don't care enough about exercise to actually look up a training program and follow it.

If you follow my program, you can look like *this*, too! [sucks in stomach and feels bad about self]

So there I was, minding my business, listening to a podcast about TV because it is no longer enough for me to just watch TV, I now have to spend time listening to people talk about watching TV. I biked a little. I ran on the treadmill a little. I lifted weights a little. Not necessarily in that order.

Voicemail Surprise

It was 2007 and my roommate, Quinn, had a birthday coming up so I decided that I should throw him a little birthday party. I was going to make a cake and everything.

I found a time that would work, put together a guest list, and then started calling people to let them know. I was responsible. I was organized. I was just a damn good friend.

Quinn had recently started dating Pam. The two were high school sweethearts that had spent a couple of years apart because of a Mormon mission, but now they were getting back together. I think I had met Pam once by this point. I'm not totally sure. I may not have met her quite yet. This detail is foggy.

The point is, I absolutely did not know Pam well and she hardly knew me at all.

Pam was on the invite list, but since I didn't really know her, I had to find a sneaky way to get her number. This was before Facebook was nearly as ubiquitous as it has since become so I'm not sure trying to find and contact her there even seemed like an option to me. In fact, although I had set up a Facebook account in 2005, I don't think I actually started using it until about 2008.

So I stole Quinn's phone while he was in the shower and pulled Pam's number from it. This was pre-smartphones so his phone wasn't password protected. It just struck me as so odd that we used to be able to flip open any person's phone and access its content without ever being asked for a password.

"I Do Love Him"

Skylar worked in Santa Barbara as a consultant for a hospital for over a year and when we were in town last week Mr. No One Will Even Remember Me So We Probably Shouldn't Stop By was finally coerced by a doctor with whom he has stayed in contact to go to the hospital and say hello to people.

It was absolutely no surprise to me when the entire place basically gave him a standing ovation and then carried him around like Jesus with the donkeys and the parade into Jerusalem and elephants and stuff.

I may have combined the Bible with Aladdin. Don't @ me. I haven't been to church since Jasmine escaped the palace and turned water into sauvignon blanc.

Skylar has this way of making everyone he meets feel like they are the most important person in his life, which is usually really lovely but sometimes it causes problems because the person he rode a bus with once can't believe she isn't invited to his wedding.

He's totally sincere about it, too. While we were chatting with his adoring fans/former coworkers I remembered this one time a year or two ago when he was on a call with some man with whom he worked. When they finished discussing their business I heard Skylar say, "Ok, Brad. Thanks for chatting with me. Talk to you later. I love you. Bye."

When he hung up I laughed and yelled "OMG ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSED?" Skylar didn't know what I was talking about so I said, "you accidentally ended that call by saying 'I love you' to that guy!"

Towels

I thought that I was probably done having embarrassing things happen in a locker room.

I know. I was delusional.

But really. Surely I've met my quota by now. Surely it's someone else's turn to humiliate himself while naked in a room for naked people.

But no.

I haven't told Skylar what happened last week. I haven't told anyone what happened last week. I almost announced it at family dinner a few hours after it all went down. We were eating with Skylar's sisters and their children in Portland. But then I remembered that I couldn't tell Skylar this because then he would yell some form of "THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO BACK IN THERE." And I haven't let Skylar be right about anything ever so I don't want to start now.

He had told me he didn't want me to go back into the locker room that morning because we were under some kind of deadline for meeting Skylar's family to go shopping. I had brought a change of clothes to the gym and he had not, so he suggested (but in a voice that sounded more like a command) that I not shower at the gym, but instead head back over to the house and shower there, that way he wouldn't have to sit and wait for me.

Cringe

A few years ago I was talking to my childhood best friend Sam's dad because he had stopped by Bob and Cathie's house for some reason. This was right before I moved to Palau and he was asking me what my job was going to be like in that country.

We talked for a while. And the conversation naturally moved to what I would do after Palau. I was telling him about how I would likely look for a job in the Salt Lake area but I wasn't sure, exactly, and that I hoped to find a good job before my contract in Palau ended.

We talked about those plans to look for a job in Salt Lake City for a while. I had expressed worry about not being able to find work. And then he said, "well, do you have any good contacts that could help you?"

And I said the following:

"Um . . . actually I don't wear contacts. I mean, I have these glasses, but my prescription is super weak. I don't really need them. But I like wearing them because I think they make me look smart hahahaha. I don't think I could ever wear contacts. It would be hard for me to stick something into my eyes."

Polar Plunge

A few weeks ago when I was in San Francisco I got to hang out with Disney Prince Hair Brandt for three days because he loves Full House so much that he lives there now. I told Brandt that I was training for the same Half Ironman race that he and I did together in 2014 HOW HAS IT BEEN THAT LONG ALL OF YOU HAVE GRAY HAIR NOW.

Four years ago when Brandt and I were training every single day for this race, I learned very quickly to dread being in the pool with him for two big reason:

1. I am the slowest swimmer since the Titanic and Brandt is basically Michael Phelps if Michael Phelps only applied himself like 80% and had the hair of a Greek God, so swimming laps next to him was a completely demoralizing experience.

I mean, look at those locks. 

A New Dentist

I had a cavity filled this morning because I guess I'm not very good at brushing my teeth and they set the appointment for 7:00 AM when it should be illegal to have appointments.

Every time I see the dentist at the end they try to set my next appointment and they're all "what are you doing twelve-hundred days from now and I'm always like "lady, I don't even know how to brush my teeth well so do you think I have my life that planned out?"

And then she always picks some weekday off in the distance and then asks if I want to do an early appointment on that day so it doesn't interfere with work and I always say yes because this seems like the responsible and lawyerly thing to do and the appointment is so far off in the distance that I just decide that it will probably be totally fine to have to get up before it should be illegal to be awake to go to the dentist's office, which might easily be the most boring place on planet earth by the way.

Then the night before the appointment I look at my calendar for the next day and see that I have to be all the way across town by 7:00 and I know some of you are like "I wake up at 4:00 every day and eat an entire field of spinach while doing yoga as I drive my 16 kids to early-morning violin lessons" and that's awesome for you but I don't do those things and being in the most boring place on Earth on the other end of town at 7:00 is hard for me and I don't care who knows it.

The Most Embarrassing Thing That Has Ever Happened To Anyone Ever.

YOU GUYS.

OMG.

I still can't believe that what I'm about to tell you actually happened.

This is beyond an embarrassing moment. This is something where I legit think I might have to move.

TO CANADA.

Just the other day I was thinking about that terribly embarrassing experience I had last December at that movie theater late on a Friday night and I was like "I haven't done anything embarrassing for a while. Good job, Eli. You're growing up."

And then this morning happened.

It all started because I noticed that the "Check Battery" light had come on in my car. It's actually been happening a lot lately. Ever since I jumped Matt's vehicle when it wouldn't start last month and then I think his car gave my car a car STD.

When Your Brain Turns Off

As you are aware, Skylar is a smart person. Like, I think he might actually be a genius. 

Sometimes I think that maybe his brain is functioning at such a high level that when it has to do day-to-day insignificant computing it's like "BASIC THOUGHT IS FOR POOR PEOPLE I CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH THIS!"

And so he dies trying to make toast in the bathtub right after winning Jeopardy.

A few weeks ago Adam had a pumpkin-carving party at his house and I knew Skylar was going to be at the grocery store that day at some point and so, hoping to save myself a trip, I asked him to pick up two pumpkins for the party.

For a second I was like, "Ok, Eli. Maybe you should call him and micromanage this." But I stopped myself because Skylar haaaaaaaaates being micromanaged by me just because of these like 15 to 30 times when he was cooking and I was hovering over him constantly saying things like "stir it this way" and "you're doing that wrong" and "here, let me just take over. Go outside and play."

So I didn't. I didn't micromanage him. I decided to choose my micromanaging battles and save my contributions for times when the instruction truly leaves a lot of room for discretion.

The World of Embarrassment

We have somehow arrived at Episode 18 in our Strangerville journey. I don't know why it took us so long to do this episode. It is basically It Just Gets Stranger's theme music. Today, three incredible stories about truly the most embarrassing things I can imagine happening to a human.

And that's coming from ME. You know. The guy who once unnecessarily wandered around a Korean airport completely naked.

Today's episode contains a very special treat thanks to all of you. Sometime ago I asked you to share your most embarrassing moments on the Stranger Facebook page. You delivered. And then some. Meg and I were delighted to include some of our favorites from your offering in this episode. So check it out, and feel a little closer to your wonderfully-awkward Stranger family.

As always, thanks for your incredible support of Strangerville and the outpouring of love as we have embarked on this beautiful journey, collecting stories and sharing the best parts of life with you. We love you.

Please enjoy:

I Cleaned Out My Car

Yesterday I got up and I said to myself I said "Eli. You look great today. And you're finally going to clean out your car."

I've been putting it off for a while because my Tetanus shot wasn't up to date. But then last month I reached into the cup holder in the center console of my vehicle to fish out two quarters for something I don't really remember now and as I type this it seems weird that I needed quarters because it's 2017 and the last time I needed quarters was to do laundry in Palau where Daniel and I one time accidentally brought home a red pair of lacy women's underwear that we named "Jasmine."

And when I reach for the two quarters, and dug through the six inches of straw wrappers, stale french fries, receipts, and then a really dark layer that I don't care to revisit right now, I finally got to the coins. But I couldn't retrieve them because they were caked in something very hard that obviously used to be very soft but then solidified and now looked and felt like tree sap that had preserved insects containing dinosaur DNA that Chris Pratt will probably teach how to love one day.

I tried with all my might to get the two quarters out. I used sticks I found in the backseat. I rolled up a Runners World magazine from 2005 that I found under the driver's seat. I poured water into the cup holder from a nalgene bottle I took camping in September. I tried to break it up with one of the pens I was able to pry loose from it.

Popcorn Part II

AND THEN.

You guys didn't think there was going to be an "and then." You thought that dumpster fire of a life I told you about over the weekend was the finish line in my 32-year journey to become the trashiest person in all the land.

You probably thought, "Eli isn't going to post anymore after this. There's really nothing else for him to say. He has completed this blog and it will now become yet another abandoned page in the blogosphere."

Well, you guys were wrong. Because there's more. There is more crap to tell you about. On Monday I gave you the ice cream, but I withheld the cherry on top. Because I was worried I was already going to cause your type II diabetes and I wanted to give your poor pancreas a 48-hour break before shoving a nearly-illegal amount of proverbial powdered donuts down your proverbial gullets.

I think I got lost in analogies somewhere back there.

The point is this.

Popcorn

On Friday Skylar told me he was going to some party at some woman's house and he asked if I wanted to come along. I wasn't really in the mood and I was tired and lazy and TV and stuff so I started to decline but then he promised me that he was only going to stay for 15 minutes and then he wanted to go to a movie after.

That sounded fine to me because popcorn.

So I agreed under the terms. Skylar told me this was a "PJ party." This sounded odd to me because (A) we are grownups, (B) what the hell is a "PJ party," (C) we are grownups. But I decided not to question it because another human told me I was about to get into a car, drive to a place with food, then go to another place with popcorn, and I could do all of this in sweats. And I've learned in my life that if something sounds too good to be true, it definitely is so just ride the high of belief in an impossible thing for as long as you can and postpone the devastation until later.

We showed up at the party, in sweats.

The New Locker Room Locks

I usually go to the gym sometime in the middle of the afternoon. The gym is a two-minute walk from my office so it's nice and convenient and I've found that mid afternoon is the best time to go because it isn't crowded and the chance of seeing any of my coworkers naked in the locker room is at its lowest and the most important thing to me in the entire world is that I never under any circumstances see any of my coworkers naked. Cross my heart, scout's honor, with liberty and justice for all, amen.

Recently the gym changed the lock devices on the lockers. They were this relatively simple battery-operated lock system but now, for reasons unknown to me, they decided to switch to something archaic and exceedingly stressful.

Basically you have to move all of these numbers around and then lock the thing and then scatter the numbers and theoretically if you put the numbers back in the position they were in before you locked it, it will unlock it. Theoretically.

I don't trust anything ever except for Paul Simon and anyone who has ever touched him so each time I use this newfangled device, I feel an excessive amount of stress. I always look like I'm trying to break into a safe to steal the Heart of the Ocean before rich people can enter the room.

Pioneer Day Catastrophes

I hadn't planned on working Friday because PIONEER DAY. The pioneers would not want me to work on the greatest holiday of all time and I'm respectful to their wishes because I was raised right. Hashtag Bob and Cathie grinding their own wheat when I was a child.

But then Thursday night happened. A number of work emergencies popped up and kept me on the phone until quite late. And, as though work emergencies have no respect for bonnets and the Utah state song, they ate most of my Friday as well.

I sat, in my home, working for most of the day, stressed out, filled to the top with anxiety. I texted a coworker to ask whether I could enter the witness protection program to hide from my job but he replied that it's already too full of lawyers and they aren't accepting any more at this time.

The evening came and a handful of friends showed up. I had agreed to host a Pioneer Day party for the non-Utah-born-and-raised heathens in my life so I could teach them a number of pioneer songs and help them understand the glory of Tami's birthday. I put the work down. We cooked absurd amounts of food and enjoyed ourselves in my backyard until exactly 10:25 when Young Wade made a comment that changed everything.

Eli's Swamp

I know this story is going to sound exaggerated but I swear to you it is not. You guys. I'm a mess. My life is a mess. The decisions I make? A mess. The ways in which I attempt to correct the messes I make? A mess.

This weekend I was exhausted. The Boulder Ironman is now somehow only a month away. Hashtag what the hell. Hashtag I don't deserve this I didn't do anything wrong. Hashtag dark magic.

Because it is somehow right around the corner AGAIN, I have been frantically trying to cram an entire year's worth of training into every single day because I am terrified. I shouldn't be as terrified as I am. I've been training extremely hard. But as you may have gathered if you've read Stranger before, Ironman and I have sort of a rocky history and I'm not really convinced that it isn't intentionally trying to kill me.

So, because of the above-mentioned, I got up every day last week before most of you even went to bed three days before (don't think about that too hard or I'll lose all credibility and then I'll have literally nothing). I woke up early for excessively long training runs or swims or bike rides and by the time the weekend hit, I was no longer a normal functioning adult human. And that's probably how the below happened.

Something Felt Strange

I rushed home on Friday evening to try to take advantage of the last couple of hours of daylight. The half Ironman is now less than three weeks away and training has been particularly difficult to squeeze in in recent months because job and responsibility. And lazy. And tv.

My job has turned into a jealous mistress and every second I'm not in the office tending to its needs is a second I'll have to pay for dearly at a later time.

NOT THAT WE KNOW WHAT JEALOUS OR MISTRESS ARE, CATHIE.

But on Friday, I was determined to make it out the door in time to get a bike ride in while it was still light enough outside to be able to do so.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The mailman had stuffed my mailbox with the entire neighborhood's worth of junk mail because of his very confusing vendetta against me.

End of the Week Appointment

The last time I wrote to you I had just pulled into the office late at night, again. I rolled in on Thursday evening sometime around 10:30 and began working on a project that I needed to try to get done by the time my meetings started midday Friday. What proceeded was one of the longest nights I've had in years.

I watched the clock progress through 1:00 AM and then 2:00 AM and then 3:00 AM WHEN IT IS NOT EVEN LEGAL TO BE AWAKE.

Every hour or so I would get up and make a quick lap around the hallway to try to get the blood flowing. It was creepy and quiet and if anyone out there is interested in murdering me that was seriously your best opportunity to do so and you blew it.

By the time my colleagues started showing up, I had been working for 8 or 9 hours straight. I was beyond exhausted, having pulled this all-nighter at the end of a very long week.

Prison

Recently I went to prison.

I realize that it's a little bit misleading to not include the article "the" before prison. Because when you put the word "the" in there, it means that you were just visiting. Probably innocently. But without it, it sounds like I'm a hardened criminal whose life choices finally caught up to him.

But I'm not a hardened criminal. And my life choices have not caught up to me yet. Unless you consider the fact that I'm 30, unmarried, and have yet to give Bob and Cathie a dozen or so new grandchildren they relentlessly demand on a semi-weekly basis. In which case, I guess they have caught up to me.

But I haven't had to go to prison for the crimes of my youth because the exhaustive list of those crimes includes having a bowl cut for the better part of four years. And they just don't usually prosecute that sort of thing because resources.