Ben Wyatt

Ontological Question of the Day - Does entropy predate the fall, or vice versa?

I'm pulling away from hyper-mega-super-awesome Stonebrook Community Church this Sunday with the Helser Team dormitos in the back seat of my luxurious '92 Buick LeSabre (only 276k miles). Out the back of my window, I see Mr Chad Gourley [TM] waving his arms at me from the back of the car. Since I was too attentive to the road, my passengers inform me that Chad wants me to know that I have a flat tire. "That's why it was so bumpy back here," inserts the peanut gallery. My car rides pretty rough with full tires, so I feel I can be excused somewhat. We pull over just south of Bloomington, and Chad takes one of my passengers in exchange for an electrical air pump. Conclusion #1: Thanks, Chad!!

The pump is plugged into my onboard lighter, and ten minutes later, the tire is at about 20 psi and we're colder than Satan after a hypothetical Cubs' pennant win, so we decide the rest can be done at a gas station, especially since it appeared that the initial cause was just a bad seal in cold weather. Get in, turn ignition, WHIRR WHIRR WHIRR click. Rinse, lather, repeat, stoopid battery ran out filling my tire. We phone a couple of people, and before any of them could get to the site, Shannon Weiss [TM] shows up. Since my car's electrical system is haunted, I'm prepared with jumper cables, so we prepare to jump the car. Get in, turn ignition, WHIRR WHIRR WHIRR click. Rinse, lather, repeat, now that you mention it, my fuel gauge is reading pretty close to empty. General despair,

Russ "Ben's roomate in 2 weeks" Graves and Jason Dietzenbach [TM] roll by. Russ instructs us on the proper placement of the negative clamp on Shannon's car (translation: he reads the big bold letters that prominently say 'negative'), since apparently Shannon's car's body was not working as a ground. WHIRR WHIRR VROOM VROOM I'M A LUXARY SEDAN BUT I MOVE LIKE A BRICK VROOM. Of course, this is all done to the background of Stonebrookians as they drive by either pulling over or calling Teply to ask what's going on. Good times. Conclusion #2: Thanks, Shannon, Russ, and Jason!!

Posted by Ben Wyatt at 12:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

In which Wyatt and Teply make utter fools of themselves by buying a toilet seat from Target ...

I get back from class today and am discussing how I regret about 20 or 30 things about my interview for a Software Engineering internship yesterday (probably didn't get it, btw) with Teply and Peter taking in my sob story and plugging into electronic devices at the same time, when an AIM convo with Beth* gets interesting. She works, is expected to attend a wedding in the near future, and would like to get the couple a gift. Teply commits us to run to Target for her to get a gift, I eavesdrop his IM, realize my name is in it, read said commitment, compute the quantitative opportunity cost of said venture, thank God the value came out positive, and we catch the next Blue Route to Target.

* Note: For the uninitiated, Bethany is a recent addition to the Hang Out in Teply's Room crowd. She was abandoned by humans to be raised by nerds, and is generally hilarious to be around for her creativity, indecisiveness, history major, ability to follow conversations in Teply's room, and feelings very similar to mine about Dancing While White (anathema, as much as that makes me a hypocrite).

Back to the story ...

Beth, in her hilarious indecisiveness, leaves a couple of options for gifts in a price range, and Teply and I latch onto the notion of a toilet seat, and have fun with the idea for the entire bus trip, with conversation ranging from 'If I get married, I'm gonna put all kinds of stupid stuff on my registry, and see if anybody buys it. If they do, they're not my friend anymore.' all the way to 'Boy, singlehood rocks.' It was edifying, I swear.

We get to Target and take 15 mintues to walk around the store, find the gift registry computer, realize that Joe is not short for Joseph if you're a computer, print the registry list, find the Bathroom section, and interpret the gibberish that lists what's what in order to determine that one item on the registry is, in fact, a toilet seat. 1 Requested, 0 purchased, you may find it in Row yadayada. Two 21 year old men proceed to giggle.

We find it. The color is listed as bone, and on the top cover is an embroidered palm tree. Hideous. Ghastly. Gut-wretching. Who would buy such a thing, then situate it on their throne? Apparently, marriage changes a lot of things. At least it felt comfortable. Two 21 year old men proceed to dance through the aisles. Sure, we were filled with the Spirit, but that hardly seems germane. Oh, and we saw Lindsey Cox and a friend. We talk, they look at us funny, and we're on our way.

We also find a card, and Teply calls Beth to confirm our selections (we are guy after all). Beth obviously thinks we aren't having nearly enough fun, because she then decides that the seat is a little expensive (of course, it's slightly cheaper than listed, and I'm pretty sure the words, "Do Not Panic" also appear). We find a tumbler (I still have no clue) and a fruit slicer, and fail to find a dartboard, despite the help of 4+ associates. Teply and I are disappointed in having to buy a fruit slicer, so decide to chip in, if only to say that we know somebody that purchased a toilet seat for a married couple, and we had a hand in said sale.

Teply and I leave Target, giggle incessantly on the bus ride back, and present Beth with a toilet seat. She decides that 'if it's on their registry, they obviously wanted it'.

The Punchline: 'toilet seat'. Apologies if you were holding iced tea.

Meanwhile, I get a call from IBM trying to sell me one of those computers that calculates the Federal Debt, thinking I can use it to compute my accumulated Negative Marriage Points to date.

Posted by Ben Wyatt at 10:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Thank you all for coming, especially on such short notice. This is the kind of decision that takes plenty of thought and prayer, and I wanted to make an announcement immediately after reaching my decision.

This was a difficult choice to say the least, but after teaching the 2nd and 3rd grade class of Sunday School at Stonebrook last week on an interim basis, I don't think it is in my, or anyone else's, best interest that I continue to serve in that capacity. Thus, after just one week in the Professional Sunday School Teaching League (PSSTL), I will be retiring, and will be replaced by Teply, who I was substituting for while he took a week of leave. I feel shocked, tired and generally overwhelmed by the sheer volume of labor and love necessary for such a task, and it's just not something I'm ready to return to.

I would like to thank God, my students and my family in Friley for providing me the grace to survive those 45 minutes. There's no way I was going to make it under my own power with 5 young boys and absolutely no Gamecubes to keep them occupied.

At this juncture, my future plans involve diving into Rock Lighting, and just spending time with God and away from 8 year-olds.

I will not be answering questions at this time, but feel free to corner me at any time, and I'll provide the gruesome details. Bring Kleenexes.

Posted by Ben Wyatt at 12:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

You know you're at a qenuinely interesting point in your walk when you start a prayer like so:

"I was looking in Leviticus today, Lord, and I was reading abou you telling the Israelites what kind of owls they could eat and what gender a goat had to be for a sacrifice, and I just want to pray that ..."

At that point, I kinda wanted to tell myself to 'get a life', but then realized that a life is most certainly the last thing I need. Over the next few days, I'm going to be spending my quiet times in Numbers, but if Leviticus is any indication, spiritual truth should not be hard to come by. I wonder what deep meaning God has to show us in his commanding of a census?

I am becoming rather perturbed by the lack of respect for private property on my dorm floor. So, I have until recently had a problem hanging a marker on my door for my marker board due to it continually being stolen. Finally, last week, I attained a long piece of heavy duty copper wire (it took multiple wire cutter crimpings and The Power Of Drew[TM] to break off in the first place), and affixed a marker to one end, ran it through the eyepiece hole on my door (the eyepiece was stolen one weekend), and wrapped the other end around my towel rack. It was not the easiest thing to write with, but it beat people knocking during naptime. A couple of days later, my markerboard is stolen. The solution: use contact paper as a markerboard. This made the whole setup seem relatively safe, until monday morning, when I discover the wire severed a foot after the marker.

This occurs alongside such niceties as the aforementioned eyehole removal (probably lost 10 eyeholes in the house), the development of a large hole in a wall, the breaking of faucet handles, and that one weekend where I spent all of my time spraying the hall down with lysol. This all has forced a locked door policy in our house, which is such a downer for social activity in general, and ministry in specific.

The worst thing is that, more and more, when talking about public responsibility I sound like my mother.

Posted by Ben Wyatt at 12:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've commisioned Ricky Rud to translate select passags of the Bible to ebonics, (Actually, it was his idea.) and the results will be posted on this very blog. I figure that so long as the meaning is retained, it might come out pretty funny, and even make verses stick out better in people's minds. I decided to announce it before the 1st post, so any criticism can be used constructively, or the segment could be cancelled altogether.

So I'm at lunch today in the UDCC, and as I'm debating the merits of the cigarrette tax with some people, the table is interrupted by some middle-aged folks. It turns out that they're from Grinnell U., and they're looking to design a UDCC-esque cafeteria. Apparently, they're also considering the satisfaction of the stuent body in their decision-making. (I never thought a place like Grinnell could be so revolutionary in their approach to the undergraduate student body, they should build an Ames branch.)

I start by noting where they wasted money, ie the high ceiling and decoration, not even to mention the wasted food. Then comes the biggest concern: the lack of walking space. I also mentioned the lack of cross-meal variety (mashed potatos every meal, the spead-out nature of each food station, and the lack of well-advertised menu.

So basically, the high point of my day has been getting to complain about Dining Service, despite how much I need it to live. How sad is that?

Posted by Ben Wyatt at 08:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)