You put your iPod on shuffle and use the song titles as answers to the questions. Normally I wouldn't do something like this (it seems so...MySpace), but I am way bored and am avoiding all things productive.
1. If someone says "Is that okay?" you say:
"We Will Rock You," Queen. (Apparently it's not okay.)
2. How would you describe yourself?
"The Middle," Jimmy Eat World.
3. What do you look for in a guy?
"God Blessed the Broken Road," Rascal Flatts.
4. How do you feel today?
"Ain't No Mountain High Enough," Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell.
5. What is your life's purpose?
"This Is the Future," Owl City. (That gave no information whatsoever! My life's purpose is apparently to live to the future. Cool.)
6. What is your motto?
"Living On a Prayer," Bon Jovi.
7. What do your friends think of you?
"Just Go," Jesse McCartney. (Wow, so rude!)
8. What do your parents think of you?
"Ms. Independent," Ne-Yo. (Baha...considering my mom just bought the majority of my books for next semester, probably not.)
9. What do you think about often?
"I'm Not That Girl," Idina Menzel. (Ouch. Nailed me on that one.)
10. What do you think of your best friend?
"I Can't Wait to Fall in Love," Justin Timberlake. (...Awkward. I most certainly CAN wait to fall in love with you, Bakenzie. No offense.)
11. What do you think of the person you like?
"I'd Rather Be With You," Joshua Radin. (Definitely true.)
12. What is your life's story?
"You've Got a Friend," James Taylor.
13. What do you want to do when you grow up?
"Chim Chim Cheree," Mary Poppins. (A chimney sweep? Awesome! The luckiest of the lucky.)
14. What do you think when you see the person you like?
"I Want to Make It With You," Bread. (Well, that's true, though not in such schmaltzy terms.)
15. What will you dance to at your wedding?
"Weight of the World," Chantal Kreviazuk. (That would be a good one!)
16. What is your hobby/interest?
"I Walk the Line," Johnny Cash
17. What is your biggest fear?
"Cold As You," Taylor Swift.
18. What is your biggest secret?
"Running," Nik Day.
19. What do you think of your friends?
"What Hurts the Most," Rascal Flatts.
20. What song will they play at your funeral?
"I Love Rocky Road," Weird Al. (Haha! This will be fitting when I die of a heart attack at age 25 due to my ice cream addiction!)
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
ABCs: C
C is for...change.
I'm not talking pocket change. (I am actually really adverse to that after working at a bank--when someone comes in with a jar of pennies, all I want to do is beat them with it.) And I'm not talking change like "Oh, I'm growing up and maturing and my life is changing!" (I'm really adverse to that, too. I like things to stay the same and I want my room to be exactly how I left it and I want my siblings to be the same height in relation to each other and myself and I don't want you to change your hair if I'm not there to see it firsthand because then it'll be this big shock the next time I see you and I'll have to adjust. Just FYI.)
I'm talking changing yourself--not because anyone else wants you to but because you want to. I'm talking finding something about your life you're unhappy about and working on it, making it and yourself as a whole better.
I've been thinking about this a lot because I have a few things I really need to work on. I have said I'm going to work on these areas more than once, but for some reason or another I tend to not do that. Mostly because I'm uncomfortable with these areas (obviously, or they wouldn't be troublesome to me).
But I am really grateful for the ability to change. It all goes back to the Atonement, as most things do--I'm glad I'm not stuck in any one mode for eternity, especially a miserable one. I'm glad that when I'm not sure what to do, I have so many avenues to turn to for direction. And I'm glad that I know I can pray for help in my changes and find it!
Maybe this should've fallen under g for grateful or b for blessings?
I'm not talking pocket change. (I am actually really adverse to that after working at a bank--when someone comes in with a jar of pennies, all I want to do is beat them with it.) And I'm not talking change like "Oh, I'm growing up and maturing and my life is changing!" (I'm really adverse to that, too. I like things to stay the same and I want my room to be exactly how I left it and I want my siblings to be the same height in relation to each other and myself and I don't want you to change your hair if I'm not there to see it firsthand because then it'll be this big shock the next time I see you and I'll have to adjust. Just FYI.)
I'm talking changing yourself--not because anyone else wants you to but because you want to. I'm talking finding something about your life you're unhappy about and working on it, making it and yourself as a whole better.
I've been thinking about this a lot because I have a few things I really need to work on. I have said I'm going to work on these areas more than once, but for some reason or another I tend to not do that. Mostly because I'm uncomfortable with these areas (obviously, or they wouldn't be troublesome to me).
But I am really grateful for the ability to change. It all goes back to the Atonement, as most things do--I'm glad I'm not stuck in any one mode for eternity, especially a miserable one. I'm glad that when I'm not sure what to do, I have so many avenues to turn to for direction. And I'm glad that I know I can pray for help in my changes and find it!
Maybe this should've fallen under g for grateful or b for blessings?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
ABCs: B
I don't necessarily like whining, but I am feeling the need to do so and what better place to do so than on my own blog?
B is for boys and also boo, because those two things go hand in hand for me lately. Usually, I do not have a problem with boys. I'm quite a fan of them, in fact. But lately, they are sucking. Hardcore. I want them all to die in a fiery plane crash. Okay, that's a little extreme. But seriously...I am tired of them. I know not ALL boys are oblivious and idiotic and go for dumb girls. I have seen some be sweet and go for good girls who are smart and fun and that helps me to not hate them. However, it appears that all the ones who go for good, smart, fun girls already have. There is an unequal distribution of good boys to good girls. Therefore, I have decided to move to the moon. I am starting a girl colony, and no boys are allowed. You'd be surprised at the number of girls who've expressed interest in this idea!
I'm just bitter because a good one I wanted chose someone else. I know, I know--I'm young, I have time, there are other fish in the sea. Blah blah blah. I know all this. It doesn't make me want to throw things and scream and kill someone any less.
(And why does the girl have to be so nice? Why does she have to smile and say hi when I see her on campus? Can't she just be horrible and mean so I don't feel bad when hatred and bitterness radiate off me? At least I can be secure in the knowledge that I am smarter than she is. But that doesn't help too much, because apparently smarts don't matter to him. Cool.)
The song that defines me right now: "I'll Think of a Reason Later" by Lee Ann Womack.
Also I am bitter because my roommate is cooking some unknown, foreign something that smells horrific. I am on the verge of gagging. All in all, not the best day I've ever had.
B is for boys and also boo, because those two things go hand in hand for me lately. Usually, I do not have a problem with boys. I'm quite a fan of them, in fact. But lately, they are sucking. Hardcore. I want them all to die in a fiery plane crash. Okay, that's a little extreme. But seriously...I am tired of them. I know not ALL boys are oblivious and idiotic and go for dumb girls. I have seen some be sweet and go for good girls who are smart and fun and that helps me to not hate them. However, it appears that all the ones who go for good, smart, fun girls already have. There is an unequal distribution of good boys to good girls. Therefore, I have decided to move to the moon. I am starting a girl colony, and no boys are allowed. You'd be surprised at the number of girls who've expressed interest in this idea!
I'm just bitter because a good one I wanted chose someone else. I know, I know--I'm young, I have time, there are other fish in the sea. Blah blah blah. I know all this. It doesn't make me want to throw things and scream and kill someone any less.
(And why does the girl have to be so nice? Why does she have to smile and say hi when I see her on campus? Can't she just be horrible and mean so I don't feel bad when hatred and bitterness radiate off me? At least I can be secure in the knowledge that I am smarter than she is. But that doesn't help too much, because apparently smarts don't matter to him. Cool.)
The song that defines me right now: "I'll Think of a Reason Later" by Lee Ann Womack.
Also I am bitter because my roommate is cooking some unknown, foreign something that smells horrific. I am on the verge of gagging. All in all, not the best day I've ever had.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
ABCs: A
Yesterday I was informed that I do not blog often enough. (I apologize for the use of passive voice in that sentence. I found it inescapable.) When I complained that I had nothing to blog about, said informer told me to do the A-Z thing. Sure. Why not. So here we go.
A is for...Alyssa!
As anyone reading this knows, Alyssa is my very special baby sister. And she is stinking adorable, as evidenced by this picture and all the ones to follow. She has her own folder in my pictures because she is basically the only thing I ever take pictures of.
She likes to carry her toys (weird things like screws and buttons and random items like sunscreen) around in this red Lego bucket. I have no idea what happened to the Legos that used to be in it. Most likely they are shoved in a different bucket somewhere after having been strewn about on the floor for a month or more.
Her very favorite thing these days is watching YouTube clips on my computer. The funny thing is, they're usually clips of movies she already has and could watch whenever she wants. But for whatever reason, it is more fun on my computer. Okay, fine. Unfortunately, it becomes very hard for me to do things like my homework when Alyssa runs in and asks to watch every time I'm even within 10 feet of my room. And yet it's virtually impossible for me to say no to her. I think she knows this and exploits it.
I...don't have much explanation for this one. That is, in fact, me in that monkey suit. I'm not embarrassed.
We have no idea why, but one time over the summer while Brian took one of many naps on the couch, Alyssa ran over and jumped on his back. It was strange. It was random. And it was HILARIOUS.
Basically my sister is cute and I love her. :) (I guess A could have been for autism, too, haha. But I don't have pictures of her throwing things during Sacrament meeting and hitting one of the deacons in the face while he's passing the Sacrament or banging her head against the couch or screaming.)
A is for...Alyssa!
As anyone reading this knows, Alyssa is my very special baby sister. And she is stinking adorable, as evidenced by this picture and all the ones to follow. She has her own folder in my pictures because she is basically the only thing I ever take pictures of.
She likes to carry her toys (weird things like screws and buttons and random items like sunscreen) around in this red Lego bucket. I have no idea what happened to the Legos that used to be in it. Most likely they are shoved in a different bucket somewhere after having been strewn about on the floor for a month or more.
Her very favorite thing these days is watching YouTube clips on my computer. The funny thing is, they're usually clips of movies she already has and could watch whenever she wants. But for whatever reason, it is more fun on my computer. Okay, fine. Unfortunately, it becomes very hard for me to do things like my homework when Alyssa runs in and asks to watch every time I'm even within 10 feet of my room. And yet it's virtually impossible for me to say no to her. I think she knows this and exploits it.
I...don't have much explanation for this one. That is, in fact, me in that monkey suit. I'm not embarrassed.
We have no idea why, but one time over the summer while Brian took one of many naps on the couch, Alyssa ran over and jumped on his back. It was strange. It was random. And it was HILARIOUS.
Basically my sister is cute and I love her. :) (I guess A could have been for autism, too, haha. But I don't have pictures of her throwing things during Sacrament meeting and hitting one of the deacons in the face while he's passing the Sacrament or banging her head against the couch or screaming.)
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Things I Love
So, I am an angry and bitter person. Although I feel as though this is simply my nature, I've decided to try to be better. Mostly because I'm in love with a boy who is SO NICE I feel bad when I'm mean. Really that's the whole reason I'm trying to be better; it's not because I actually WANT to be better--I just know that to deserve a nice boy I'm going to have to at least pretend to be a nice girl. (And OH do I want him. Yes, yes, I do. So very very much. Think Prince William, but with better teeth, obviously, and also cuter and funny and super sweet and an Idaho hick. And after I made him dinner he did the dishes. And he is dorky and makes me laugh super hard. Okay, end of digression about the new LOVE OF MY STINKING LIFE.)
In the spirit of being more positive, and because I'm avoiding doing the reading I need to do in order to write a 4 page essay, I'm going to make a list of things I love. It may be a short list; I'm winging this. In no particular order (actually, there is an order--the order I think of them in), I love:
1. Swinging
We have an AWESOME park within walking distance, and the boys in our ward live right next to it. Needless to say, I spend a lot of time there, especially in the spring semester when the weather is gorgeous. Sometimes you have to wait for all the little kids to quit hogging the swings, but the wait is worth it.
2. The view from my grandparents' kitch
en window.
No words. Just plain gorgeous. Could ANYTHING be better than looking out at open space, grazing horses and cows, and farmland? No. I really don't think so. I will be a very, very sad girl if I do not get a view like this after getting married. Someday? Please?!
3. Fishing with my daddy
(Yes, I know I look like a dirty street urchin in this picture. Doesn't bother me a bit.) Fishing has always been something my dad and I have done together. Gradually, my siblings stopped coming with us, and it became our thing. It was always nice to have some time with my dad to myself, and fishing is fun, anyway, so it worked out very nicely.
4. Being upside down.
Is there anything more fun?! All the blood rushes to your head and your face turns red and it's awesome. Not much more to say.
5. S'mores!
Delectable! Best part of summer by far.
6. Temples
This is the Portland temple, which I am particularly partial to and have a great desire to be married in, but I love all temples. They are so gorgeous. In Spokane, there are a lot of old, beautiful buildings and churches, and once I thought to myself, "I wish our churches were this pretty." Then I remembered temples and felt stupid because honestly, no building EVER is prettier than a temple! Also there is the whole blessing thing that comes from the temple. You know, that's important, too.
7. Music
I'm fairly po
sitive this doesn't even need an explanation. No music=no life.
8. BYU-Ida
ho
So maybe the truth is that I hated this place when I first started. It snows approximately 7 months of the year, the wind never stops blowing, the temperature is frequently in negative double-digits, the dating culture is slightly ridiculous and kind of a joke, and I don't entirely agree with all of the rules. BUT. I now love it. All those things still bother me. But I love the atmosphere. I love starting every class with a prayer; I love talking about how we all play "Spot the Mormon" on vacation; I love debating "fetch" as a swear word; I love knowing that every Sunday I will see the guys I go to class with wearing their white shirts and ties and honoring their Priesthood; I love seeing people reading their scriptures on campus; I love walking to class and having random strangers smile at me and say hi and strike up a conversation (well, that one depends what time of morning it is); I love my on-campus job and the people I work with; I love not opening any doors on campus because if there are any boys within 100 feet of me they will run over and do it; and most of all I love not having to worry about what kind of things my friends are going to want to do and if I'm going to end up not going because whatever they're doing is against my standards. I just love it!
9. Late night shenanigans
(This picture doesn't really tell you much, but we took this while driving half an hour to Idaho Falls at midnight because we needed M&Ms.) Trips to IF or Denny's, running around outside, pranking people after curfew, watching a movie, going to the park in the dark--whatever. Although it's true I value my sleep probably more than most normal humans, I love having fun, and for some reason everything is more fun after curfew. Probably simply because I'm not supposed to be doing it.
10. Hebrew
For real, I LOVE HEBREW. It is SO hard and many times while doing my homework I feel the need to burst into tears/scream/pull my hair out/hit someone, but it is my favorite class that I have ever taken in my entire life. I am bitterly and intensely jealous of anyone who has had/will have the opportunity to go to the Jerusalem Center or just Israel in general, and I have made it my goal to get there someday, somehow. And I will do it!
In the spirit of being more positive, and because I'm avoiding doing the reading I need to do in order to write a 4 page essay, I'm going to make a list of things I love. It may be a short list; I'm winging this. In no particular order (actually, there is an order--the order I think of them in), I love:
1. Swinging
We have an AWESOME park within walking distance, and the boys in our ward live right next to it. Needless to say, I spend a lot of time there, especially in the spring semester when the weather is gorgeous. Sometimes you have to wait for all the little kids to quit hogging the swings, but the wait is worth it.2. The view from my grandparents' kitch
en window.No words. Just plain gorgeous. Could ANYTHING be better than looking out at open space, grazing horses and cows, and farmland? No. I really don't think so. I will be a very, very sad girl if I do not get a view like this after getting married. Someday? Please?!
3. Fishing with my daddy
(Yes, I know I look like a dirty street urchin in this picture. Doesn't bother me a bit.) Fishing has always been something my dad and I have done together. Gradually, my siblings stopped coming with us, and it became our thing. It was always nice to have some time with my dad to myself, and fishing is fun, anyway, so it worked out very nicely.4. Being upside down.
Is there anything more fun?! All the blood rushes to your head and your face turns red and it's awesome. Not much more to say.
5. S'mores!
Delectable! Best part of summer by far.
6. Temples
This is the Portland temple, which I am particularly partial to and have a great desire to be married in, but I love all temples. They are so gorgeous. In Spokane, there are a lot of old, beautiful buildings and churches, and once I thought to myself, "I wish our churches were this pretty." Then I remembered temples and felt stupid because honestly, no building EVER is prettier than a temple! Also there is the whole blessing thing that comes from the temple. You know, that's important, too.7. Music
I'm fairly po
sitive this doesn't even need an explanation. No music=no life.8. BYU-Ida
hoSo maybe the truth is that I hated this place when I first started. It snows approximately 7 months of the year, the wind never stops blowing, the temperature is frequently in negative double-digits, the dating culture is slightly ridiculous and kind of a joke, and I don't entirely agree with all of the rules. BUT. I now love it. All those things still bother me. But I love the atmosphere. I love starting every class with a prayer; I love talking about how we all play "Spot the Mormon" on vacation; I love debating "fetch" as a swear word; I love knowing that every Sunday I will see the guys I go to class with wearing their white shirts and ties and honoring their Priesthood; I love seeing people reading their scriptures on campus; I love walking to class and having random strangers smile at me and say hi and strike up a conversation (well, that one depends what time of morning it is); I love my on-campus job and the people I work with; I love not opening any doors on campus because if there are any boys within 100 feet of me they will run over and do it; and most of all I love not having to worry about what kind of things my friends are going to want to do and if I'm going to end up not going because whatever they're doing is against my standards. I just love it!
9. Late night shenanigans
(This picture doesn't really tell you much, but we took this while driving half an hour to Idaho Falls at midnight because we needed M&Ms.) Trips to IF or Denny's, running around outside, pranking people after curfew, watching a movie, going to the park in the dark--whatever. Although it's true I value my sleep probably more than most normal humans, I love having fun, and for some reason everything is more fun after curfew. Probably simply because I'm not supposed to be doing it.
10. Hebrew
For real, I LOVE HEBREW. It is SO hard and many times while doing my homework I feel the need to burst into tears/scream/pull my hair out/hit someone, but it is my favorite class that I have ever taken in my entire life. I am bitterly and intensely jealous of anyone who has had/will have the opportunity to go to the Jerusalem Center or just Israel in general, and I have made it my goal to get there someday, somehow. And I will do it!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Back to school, back to school...
Well, I'm back in Rexburg. I got in Monday night. Classes start tomorrow...ugh. I know education is important and all, but I'm not really feeling it. But I'm ready to be back on a schedule and have things to do. And I'm ready to see if there are cute boys in my classes. I'm in the same apartment and the same ward, but all my roommates left me. :( Kay Lynn will be back in the winter. I just keep reminding myself that. The new ones seem okay so far...so we'll see. I'm the oldest in my apartment--such a strange feeling. And I'm not even old!
I have TEN books this semester. Death. I'm taking 17 credits. And I'm working. But I think I'll be okay--I'm retaking Hebrew, so I kind of feel okay about that one. I know what to expect and I already know the alphabet and remember some of the vocab words, so it should be easier this time around. Plus I still have all the assignments saved on my computer, woop woop! But then I'm also taking International Politics, Sociology and Law, an English class, a piano class, and Sign Language. Piano won't be hard--I'll just have to practice, which will just take up time. International Politics is looking a little scary, but I'm sure I'll be fine.
While I was in the bookstore, a boy weaved through the crowd of about 7 million people (all freshmen and their mothers and 18 younger siblings each, of course) and came over to me and asked if I knew who wrote Frankenstein. I told him (Mary Shelley, in case you're wondering) and went on my way, but then I got to thinking...why did he ask me specifically? I was wearing an orange shirt, and some of the employees had orange polos, so maybe he thought I worked there. Or could he tell just by looking at me that I would know something like that? Do I have "NERD" tattooed on my forehead or something? I can't help it if I remember these things. We'll see who's laughing when you fail your stupid English class, boy. I still remember all the major plot points and could even probably still write an essay on it, thanks in large part to the fact that I saw the Frankenstein episode of Wishbone.
And then while I was walking back to my apartment, the cute boy from my ward I dibbsed three semesters ago talked to me, so I stopped caring.
I have TEN books this semester. Death. I'm taking 17 credits. And I'm working. But I think I'll be okay--I'm retaking Hebrew, so I kind of feel okay about that one. I know what to expect and I already know the alphabet and remember some of the vocab words, so it should be easier this time around. Plus I still have all the assignments saved on my computer, woop woop! But then I'm also taking International Politics, Sociology and Law, an English class, a piano class, and Sign Language. Piano won't be hard--I'll just have to practice, which will just take up time. International Politics is looking a little scary, but I'm sure I'll be fine.
While I was in the bookstore, a boy weaved through the crowd of about 7 million people (all freshmen and their mothers and 18 younger siblings each, of course) and came over to me and asked if I knew who wrote Frankenstein. I told him (Mary Shelley, in case you're wondering) and went on my way, but then I got to thinking...why did he ask me specifically? I was wearing an orange shirt, and some of the employees had orange polos, so maybe he thought I worked there. Or could he tell just by looking at me that I would know something like that? Do I have "NERD" tattooed on my forehead or something? I can't help it if I remember these things. We'll see who's laughing when you fail your stupid English class, boy. I still remember all the major plot points and could even probably still write an essay on it, thanks in large part to the fact that I saw the Frankenstein episode of Wishbone.
And then while I was walking back to my apartment, the cute boy from my ward I dibbsed three semesters ago talked to me, so I stopped caring.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Today I...
Today, I...
-slept in until 10 A.M. It was glorious.
-got my butt kicked on my workout. I don't know what the deal was, but I had to stop TWICE on my run.
-shaved my legs. Trust me, it needed to happen.
-started packing and realized I brought a lot of useless junk home with me. But the problem is, it was only useless this summer and I'll need it in the fall, so I somehow have to cram it all into my bags and cart it back to school with me.
-contemplated writing in my journal. Didn't do it.
-struggled through the third movement of Seitz's second concerto on the violin. Painful...both to my ears and my fingers.
-listened to the song, "Permission to Fly" about 80 times. It's by one of those Disney channel star people. Embarrassing. But it's catchy.
-wrote an email to a missionary. :)
-got super excited when I saw that four episodes I've never seen of my geek show will be on tomorrow and I will be home to watch it. There was definitely a fist pump.
-made salsa. And then realized we didn't have any chips.
-watched Dexter's Laboratory and Johnny Bravo. Dede got flushed down a toilet and Dexter pulled her out with a plunger and the summary for the Johnny Bravo episode included, "Johnny dates an antelope." I tell ya, they just don't make TV like they used to.
-slept in until 10 A.M. It was glorious.
-got my butt kicked on my workout. I don't know what the deal was, but I had to stop TWICE on my run.
-shaved my legs. Trust me, it needed to happen.
-started packing and realized I brought a lot of useless junk home with me. But the problem is, it was only useless this summer and I'll need it in the fall, so I somehow have to cram it all into my bags and cart it back to school with me.
-contemplated writing in my journal. Didn't do it.
-struggled through the third movement of Seitz's second concerto on the violin. Painful...both to my ears and my fingers.
-listened to the song, "Permission to Fly" about 80 times. It's by one of those Disney channel star people. Embarrassing. But it's catchy.
-wrote an email to a missionary. :)
-got super excited when I saw that four episodes I've never seen of my geek show will be on tomorrow and I will be home to watch it. There was definitely a fist pump.
-made salsa. And then realized we didn't have any chips.
-watched Dexter's Laboratory and Johnny Bravo. Dede got flushed down a toilet and Dexter pulled her out with a plunger and the summary for the Johnny Bravo episode included, "Johnny dates an antelope." I tell ya, they just don't make TV like they used to.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
7 Days
"7 Days" is this sci-fi TV show from the late 90s that I distinctly remember my older brother being really, really into back in the day and which I hated because I never got to watch what I wanted to when it was on. I just watched a marathon on TV with all my infinite, grown-up TV taste. It's very obviously extremely low budget and only ran for three seasons. It's hilariously cheesy and there are parts where the acting/writing/both is so ridiculous that it makes me literally laugh out loud. For example, these people are in their early thirties, and someone just flashed an L for loser sign. And on two different episodes (so far), the main character has let out a dramatic "NOOOOOO!" while throwing TVs and beds and such. And the woman he's in love with is named Olga. For real. That is really her name. And yet...I am sucked in. (The fact that the main guy is extremely good looking and goes shirtless probably 50% of the time doesn't hurt.) I will now commence spending my free week between work and heading back to Rexburg sitting on my keister, watching this show, and drinking chocolate milk. Ahhh, this is the life.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The other day (I did NOT meet a bear and I will kill you if you start singing that. That means you, Judy!) I had one of those experiences that will someday be funny when included in a movie. Work was sloooooooower than any snail you've ever seen. I mean, come on, we have 1500 whole people in town, and at least 1495 are probably customers at our bank--wouldn't you think at least 20 people would come in?? No. They did not. (I'm exaggerating. More than 20 people came in. Just not very many more.) Since work was slow, my boss gave me a project. (The word project makes me run. Seriously. I'd rather stare off into space and drool, thanks.)
My project was to fill in addresses on loan denial forms. With a typewriter, because it needed to print onto a carbon copy and computers don't do that. So after staring at the typewriter for at least a full minute, wondering how I got the paper in, I asked one of the--ahem--more mature tellers for some assistance. So we got that going and I started filling in the form. I had to put an X in a box and then type in the address for the credit reporting service we use and the FDIC Consumer Response Center. (If you're interested, I've got both addresses seared into my memory forever, and also a phone number for the credit reporting service.)
Well. My stack of forms to fill out was GIANT. And I was a little resentful because the typewriter is in a back room and I was cut off from almost all human contact, except when people passed through the room and asked, "What on Earth are you doing?!" with their voices full of shock and horror.
My frustrations began within seconds. The problem with the typewriter is that it's kind of guess as to where you're typing. You have a general idea, but the form had lines and I could never tell if I was going to be above the line, right on it, or typing through it. And putting the X in the box was almost impossible. Being the OCD freak that I am, it really really intensely bothered me that I couldn't get the X right through the center of the box. I probably spent most of my time fretting over whether I was lined up and waiting to type one stupid letter until I was sure I was as close as I could get. It became a battle between the typewriter and myself. I was determined to get perfect Xs. (The typewriter won more of these battles than I did, I am sad to admit.)
Another problem I had with the typewriter was the fact that I couldn't backspace. I have a lot of trouble with typing the letters out of order, or hitting other letters, or whatever. Sometimes my fingers get going faster than my brain and I make mistakes. This typewriter, luckily, has the correction tape stuff and you can hit the back button and it covers it and you type over it. So, great. I made mistakes, but you couldn't tell. Well, then someone said something about the carbon copy showing your mistakes, and I got worried and took a look. Sure enough, you could tell where I'd messed up. Some of them were very bad. There were pages that I'd messed up almost every single stinking word. I don't know who'll keep the carbon copy, but I hope it's not crucial to be able to read the addresses.
And then the correction tape ran out. NO! I couldn't do it without the correction tape. That's why the correction tape ran out in the first place. So I went to the store room to look for more. There were like 30,000 different types of typewriter ribbon. I had no idea what type I needed. And they weren't even labeled simply, like "black" or "correction tape." They had weird names like "clear lift-off tape." That sounds more like something you would need for an airplane! So I took a guess and grabbed two different kinds and took my loot back. I got the old ribbon out. I correctly got the new ribbon attached. (Clear lift-off tape was the right stuff, turns out.) In the process, the black ribbon got a bit tangled and looked a bit tattered. But I didn't know what to do about that, so I just put it back in and kept typing. Except that the black wasn't typing. Ugh. So I went back to the storeroom, got a new black ribbon, and changed that one. There. Black one working. But the correction tape wasn't working! I took the ribbon out and looked at it again. At this point I'd been fiddling with the ribbons for at least ten minutes. So I was turning the little wheel, trying to figure out what the deal was, when the tape suddenly turned from orange to clear. Yeah...remember how it's called CLEAR lift-off tape? I'm retarded. You're supposed to wind past the orange part to the clear part. So I finally got the ribbons all squared away (I didn't tell anyone about my stupidity; I just pretended I had fixed whatever the problem was.) and went type type typing away, filling in the forms by memory because at that point I could say the addresses in my sleep.
I was also filling in the address of the loan officers--I had to fill one out for the Enterprise branch and the Moro branch. I did Enterprise first and had gotten started on Moro when I had the escapade with the ribbons. So I went back to typing and did at least 50 pages of Moro...with the Enterprise P.O. box number. And the Moro loan officer's signature at the bottom. I wanted to scream or cry or throw the stupid typewriter out the window. I blame it. It was battling me and distracted me.
So I had to white out the box number on alllllll those forms and then go back and type the right box number over it. But of course, since it's hard to line it up right, some of them have the 44 way up high and some have it lower and AAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
All I can say is, I am SO glad I live in a time with computers!
My project was to fill in addresses on loan denial forms. With a typewriter, because it needed to print onto a carbon copy and computers don't do that. So after staring at the typewriter for at least a full minute, wondering how I got the paper in, I asked one of the--ahem--more mature tellers for some assistance. So we got that going and I started filling in the form. I had to put an X in a box and then type in the address for the credit reporting service we use and the FDIC Consumer Response Center. (If you're interested, I've got both addresses seared into my memory forever, and also a phone number for the credit reporting service.)
Well. My stack of forms to fill out was GIANT. And I was a little resentful because the typewriter is in a back room and I was cut off from almost all human contact, except when people passed through the room and asked, "What on Earth are you doing?!" with their voices full of shock and horror.
My frustrations began within seconds. The problem with the typewriter is that it's kind of guess as to where you're typing. You have a general idea, but the form had lines and I could never tell if I was going to be above the line, right on it, or typing through it. And putting the X in the box was almost impossible. Being the OCD freak that I am, it really really intensely bothered me that I couldn't get the X right through the center of the box. I probably spent most of my time fretting over whether I was lined up and waiting to type one stupid letter until I was sure I was as close as I could get. It became a battle between the typewriter and myself. I was determined to get perfect Xs. (The typewriter won more of these battles than I did, I am sad to admit.)
Another problem I had with the typewriter was the fact that I couldn't backspace. I have a lot of trouble with typing the letters out of order, or hitting other letters, or whatever. Sometimes my fingers get going faster than my brain and I make mistakes. This typewriter, luckily, has the correction tape stuff and you can hit the back button and it covers it and you type over it. So, great. I made mistakes, but you couldn't tell. Well, then someone said something about the carbon copy showing your mistakes, and I got worried and took a look. Sure enough, you could tell where I'd messed up. Some of them were very bad. There were pages that I'd messed up almost every single stinking word. I don't know who'll keep the carbon copy, but I hope it's not crucial to be able to read the addresses.
And then the correction tape ran out. NO! I couldn't do it without the correction tape. That's why the correction tape ran out in the first place. So I went to the store room to look for more. There were like 30,000 different types of typewriter ribbon. I had no idea what type I needed. And they weren't even labeled simply, like "black" or "correction tape." They had weird names like "clear lift-off tape." That sounds more like something you would need for an airplane! So I took a guess and grabbed two different kinds and took my loot back. I got the old ribbon out. I correctly got the new ribbon attached. (Clear lift-off tape was the right stuff, turns out.) In the process, the black ribbon got a bit tangled and looked a bit tattered. But I didn't know what to do about that, so I just put it back in and kept typing. Except that the black wasn't typing. Ugh. So I went back to the storeroom, got a new black ribbon, and changed that one. There. Black one working. But the correction tape wasn't working! I took the ribbon out and looked at it again. At this point I'd been fiddling with the ribbons for at least ten minutes. So I was turning the little wheel, trying to figure out what the deal was, when the tape suddenly turned from orange to clear. Yeah...remember how it's called CLEAR lift-off tape? I'm retarded. You're supposed to wind past the orange part to the clear part. So I finally got the ribbons all squared away (I didn't tell anyone about my stupidity; I just pretended I had fixed whatever the problem was.) and went type type typing away, filling in the forms by memory because at that point I could say the addresses in my sleep.
I was also filling in the address of the loan officers--I had to fill one out for the Enterprise branch and the Moro branch. I did Enterprise first and had gotten started on Moro when I had the escapade with the ribbons. So I went back to typing and did at least 50 pages of Moro...with the Enterprise P.O. box number. And the Moro loan officer's signature at the bottom. I wanted to scream or cry or throw the stupid typewriter out the window. I blame it. It was battling me and distracted me.
So I had to white out the box number on alllllll those forms and then go back and type the right box number over it. But of course, since it's hard to line it up right, some of them have the 44 way up high and some have it lower and AAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
All I can say is, I am SO glad I live in a time with computers!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
If We Were a Movie...
If my life were a movie, it would UNDOUBTEDLY be a comedy. There is just simply no way around it. So I decided to make a list of some of the funnier moments in my life that would make awesome movie scenes. And yes, the title comes from a Hannah Montana song. Don't judge.
Family Life
My family is hilarious. Basically every family gathering of any kind could/should end up in a movie someday. Some standouts:
--My mother and her four sisters exclaiming, in very VERY high pitched voices, over dill-pickle dip, smiley face tupperware, and 4th of July baskets.
--My two older brothers having a fist fight over crayons in the aisle in the middle of sacrament meeting (Sadly, we were never allowed to bring crayons, colored pencils, or markers to church after that.)
--Me dressing my little brother in "preppy" clothes, spiking his hair, and coaching him on the path to being a male model named, very cleverly, Spikey Mikey.
--When the movie "Shrek" came to theaters, Jared saw it with the Kearsleys first, and then saw it with our family. On his second viewing, he stood up in his seat and screamed, for the whole theater to hear, "THE PRINCESS IS AN OGRE!"
--Our recent camping trip to Wallowa Lake, where we (my parents, Cherisse, Jared, and I) started setting up the tent and found out, much to our dismay, that none of us were tall enough to set it up without standing on the ice chest.
--On more than one occasion, I have walked up the stairs and passed various pieces of Alyssa's clothing, only to find her completely naked on the couch. I once asked, "Alyssa! Where are your clothes?!" and she looked at me and nonchalantly replied, "I don't know."
School
--Kindergarten. P.E. I'm wearing a pair of home-made pants and what happens? They split down the seam. And I didn't tell anyone. Not really sure how I kept THAT a secret until I got home.
--I rode the bus in high school until senior year. Need I say more? Insert lots of teenage long-suffering sighs here.
--In second grade I sat next to Nathan Hillborn (he got really weird in high school, but I think we were buds back in the day) and he said "dude" just about every other word. Conveniently, I had just watched an episode of "Step By Step" where they cured the cousin--his name escapes me, but it'll come to me in the middle of the night tonight, I promise--of this very same predicament by using shock therapy. Apparently telling Nathan I was going to do that to him was a threat and I got in trouble for violence. (Bit of foreshadowing, turns out.)
--My senior year of high school, I took statistics. The class as a whole was a joke--the teacher taught all remedial classes and then somehow was teaching AP Stats. Okay. We did a lot of group projects and made a lot of bar graphs. We got our papers taken away when we tried to work ahead. Boys were jumping over tables and the teacher didn't even notice. Melissa Fults came up with a simplified equation that gave the right answer to every problem in about half the steps and the teacher forbade us from using it. Tyler VanderZanden and I spent most class periods trying to best each other in Block Dude, a game on our calculators. But one of the most memorable events was when our teacher taught the same lecture two days in a row. Exactly the same. Word for word. Every example had all the same numbers. EVERYTHING was the same. And nobody seemed to notice except Katie Powell and I. We kept looking around, searching for SOMEONE who noticed, and no one did! (To be fair, most people didn't notice because no one paid attention to that teacher anyway. She wasn't exactly the brightest bulb, and it was an AP class. We pretty much taught ourselves.) So we did what we always did in a situation we had no control over and couldn't believe...we pretended to stab each other repeatedly to end each other's misery.
--There is a very wonderful phenomenon in Rexburg, ID called "ice." One lovely day, my Eastern European Culture class got out early and this made me so happy I may or may not have been skipping on my way back to my apartment. Well. Skipping + Marlaina + ice =/= safe. (Okay, to be honest, the problem part of that equation is really just the skipping + Marlaina part. The ice is just an added annoyance.) Yes, I slipped, but I caught myself. I happened to end up almost completely in the splits. But I was alone, so it was okay...until I heard a boy behind me say, "Nice save."
High Adventure/EFY/Basically Every Time I Hang Out With Judy
Seriously, people. Kenzie and I deserve our own reality show. We have discussed this MULTIPLE times.
--On our very first HA, we went white water rafting. But the most injury came to me not while braving the treacherous Deschutes River...nope, I tripped over a rock in the campsite while we were just standing there. Still not quite sure how that happened.
--One night, we pitched our tent on an ant hill. The next night, we were less than ten feet from the HORRIFICALLY smelly outhouse. And the next year, we pitched our tent literally ON the roots of at least three trees.
--We got back from our first day of white water rafting and pitched our tent. It was so ridiculously hot that we sat in our tent, staring into space, not speaking, not moving, for at least an hour. It was probably ten degrees cooler outside our tent, and yet we sat in our tent in a heat-induced stupor.
--I had to stand on a chair to see myself in the mirror in our room our first year at EFY.
--We instantly fell in love with two boys in our group, whom we dubbed "The Wannes" because we would cry, "Oh, I wanne!" We may have stalked them. And I think you know that "we may" means "all our pictures of them are from behind or are super blurry because they're zoomed in so far due to the fact that we were hiding in the bushes when we took them." No big.
--I got clotheslined by a tree while inflatable kayaking and did quite a graceful back tuck off the back of the kayak.
--I very nearly drowned Kenzie while we body-surfed a rapid together. Turns out I'm completely terrified of water. I was kinda sorta maybe pushing Kenzie under the water to push myself above the waves so I could breathe.
The Bank
You probably wouldn't think that very many amusing things happen while tellering at a bank. Oh how wrong you are.
--My very first day of working, I spilled a $50 bag of pennies all over the counter and the floor and then had to crawl around everyone's feet and pick them all up. While rolling those same pennies into rolls, I also encountered a human fingernail.
--The first day I worked as a teller, the girl training me stepped away from the teller window for a minute. A drunk guy came up and advised me to "never be a monkey's uncle." Good advice.
--A very creepy 50-year-old man complimented me on my "beautiful eyelashes" while we were the only two people in the lobby.
--Customers always think it's hilarious to comment on how short I am, because, admittedly, I am barely visible over the teller windows. I also had my own stool to stand on while I worked the drive-up window last summer. (That stool has, sadly, vanished since we remodeled the bank. I could really use it, too.)
--While I was home for a break between semesters, a woman came in with 15 minutes to close with $60 in pennies. Our coin machine is a bit...well, crappy, and pennies have a tendency to jam. While I was clearing one such jam, the bag that the pennies flow into after being counted fell off, and the pennies were being counted right onto the floor. My supervisor and I were helpless with laughter at that point, and the woman who had brought the pennies in assumed we were laughing at HER and got offended.
Boys
My awkward boy experiences could be a movie all their own, trust me. It's not pretty. Read on if you dare.
--Once, at an EFY dance, the boy I was dancing with conversationally asked, between "Where are you from?" and "How many siblings do you have?": "So...were you born in the covenant?"
--My very first kiss was so short and so quick I wasn't entirely sure our lips actually touched. I raced in the house and called Kenzie and she said, "Did he kiss you?!" I replied, "Um...I think so?"
--One of the aforementioned Wannes, Cameron Mackay, happened to wind up at BYU-I. I happened to wind up at one of his flag football games one time. After the game, my roommates and I were sitting on the grass talking, and he walked by and nudged me in the back in what has now been infamously dubbed the Kidney Kick. I turned around and gave him an ecstatic/creepy grin, and...didn't say a word. My roommates laughed forEVER.
--My date with Dallin my second semester at BYU-I was just awkward all around. My roommate Heidi's boyfriend (husband, now!) cornered him in the library and asked him out...and then picked him up AND dropped him off afterward. While getting out of the car on the actual date, I slipped on some more dang ice and almost ate it. Throw in a roommate who kept trying to flirt with him, an F-bomb or two in the movie we saw, a SPECTACULARLY awkward hug at the end of the date, and the fact that I was texting his roommate mere seconds after he left, and you just about get the nature of our relationship those two semesters.
--I really desperately wanted to make Matt a cake for his birthday. I had all these spectacular plans to break into his apartment and leave it there with candles lit and everything as a surprise. Well, obviously that didn't work. But I did bake him cookies...sort of. I'm basically baking-retarded. Somehow or another, the cookies went wrong. Horribly. In fact, Lauren was over and saw them before Matt got there and asked, in true Lauren fashion, "Are you really giving those to him?" They were horribly flat and I didn't bake them long enough, so they were goopy and kind of runny and just...not good. [Sidenote: He still ate them. :)]
--I was kneeling on a stool and boasting to Matt that I was taller than he was. Well, he came over to prove me wrong, and we stood/kneeled there, literally nose-to-nose, for like a full ten seconds, staring at each other. Awkward moment.
--My cousin was going on a date with a boy from her ward and she really didn't want to go. But this boy had a really good-looking little brother Cherisse's age, so they arranged a double date. Well, there was a middle brother, so I got dragged along, too--VERY much against my wishes. No one was talking, and it took a ridiculous amount of time for our food to get there. There was a lot of awkward eye-contact dodging and a LOT of awkward/nervous laughing. And then I got a speeding ticket on the way home. I was not a happy camper.
--A boy I liked was over at our apartment and I got on the topic--NO ONE KNOWS WHY--of pads. Seriously. Something is psychologically wrong with me.
--At work one day, I was giving a reading comprehension test to a very cute boy. We came to a certain section of the test that all tutors loath, because it takes forever and is beyond boring for the test-giver, as well as super frustrating for the test-taker. So I warned him of this fact by saying something like unto, "Oh, this section really sucks. It takes SO LONG!" And he said, with a smile and a wink--a WINK, I tell you!--"But I've been enjoying our time together." So how do you think I replied? I flipped the page and said, "Okay, go ahead and start." Ten minutes later, I realized he'd been trying to flirt with me. Oops.
Family Life
My family is hilarious. Basically every family gathering of any kind could/should end up in a movie someday. Some standouts:
--My mother and her four sisters exclaiming, in very VERY high pitched voices, over dill-pickle dip, smiley face tupperware, and 4th of July baskets.
--My two older brothers having a fist fight over crayons in the aisle in the middle of sacrament meeting (Sadly, we were never allowed to bring crayons, colored pencils, or markers to church after that.)
--Me dressing my little brother in "preppy" clothes, spiking his hair, and coaching him on the path to being a male model named, very cleverly, Spikey Mikey.
--When the movie "Shrek" came to theaters, Jared saw it with the Kearsleys first, and then saw it with our family. On his second viewing, he stood up in his seat and screamed, for the whole theater to hear, "THE PRINCESS IS AN OGRE!"
--Our recent camping trip to Wallowa Lake, where we (my parents, Cherisse, Jared, and I) started setting up the tent and found out, much to our dismay, that none of us were tall enough to set it up without standing on the ice chest.
--On more than one occasion, I have walked up the stairs and passed various pieces of Alyssa's clothing, only to find her completely naked on the couch. I once asked, "Alyssa! Where are your clothes?!" and she looked at me and nonchalantly replied, "I don't know."
School
--Kindergarten. P.E. I'm wearing a pair of home-made pants and what happens? They split down the seam. And I didn't tell anyone. Not really sure how I kept THAT a secret until I got home.
--I rode the bus in high school until senior year. Need I say more? Insert lots of teenage long-suffering sighs here.
--In second grade I sat next to Nathan Hillborn (he got really weird in high school, but I think we were buds back in the day) and he said "dude" just about every other word. Conveniently, I had just watched an episode of "Step By Step" where they cured the cousin--his name escapes me, but it'll come to me in the middle of the night tonight, I promise--of this very same predicament by using shock therapy. Apparently telling Nathan I was going to do that to him was a threat and I got in trouble for violence. (Bit of foreshadowing, turns out.)
--My senior year of high school, I took statistics. The class as a whole was a joke--the teacher taught all remedial classes and then somehow was teaching AP Stats. Okay. We did a lot of group projects and made a lot of bar graphs. We got our papers taken away when we tried to work ahead. Boys were jumping over tables and the teacher didn't even notice. Melissa Fults came up with a simplified equation that gave the right answer to every problem in about half the steps and the teacher forbade us from using it. Tyler VanderZanden and I spent most class periods trying to best each other in Block Dude, a game on our calculators. But one of the most memorable events was when our teacher taught the same lecture two days in a row. Exactly the same. Word for word. Every example had all the same numbers. EVERYTHING was the same. And nobody seemed to notice except Katie Powell and I. We kept looking around, searching for SOMEONE who noticed, and no one did! (To be fair, most people didn't notice because no one paid attention to that teacher anyway. She wasn't exactly the brightest bulb, and it was an AP class. We pretty much taught ourselves.) So we did what we always did in a situation we had no control over and couldn't believe...we pretended to stab each other repeatedly to end each other's misery.
--There is a very wonderful phenomenon in Rexburg, ID called "ice." One lovely day, my Eastern European Culture class got out early and this made me so happy I may or may not have been skipping on my way back to my apartment. Well. Skipping + Marlaina + ice =/= safe. (Okay, to be honest, the problem part of that equation is really just the skipping + Marlaina part. The ice is just an added annoyance.) Yes, I slipped, but I caught myself. I happened to end up almost completely in the splits. But I was alone, so it was okay...until I heard a boy behind me say, "Nice save."
High Adventure/EFY/Basically Every Time I Hang Out With Judy
Seriously, people. Kenzie and I deserve our own reality show. We have discussed this MULTIPLE times.
--On our very first HA, we went white water rafting. But the most injury came to me not while braving the treacherous Deschutes River...nope, I tripped over a rock in the campsite while we were just standing there. Still not quite sure how that happened.
--One night, we pitched our tent on an ant hill. The next night, we were less than ten feet from the HORRIFICALLY smelly outhouse. And the next year, we pitched our tent literally ON the roots of at least three trees.
--We got back from our first day of white water rafting and pitched our tent. It was so ridiculously hot that we sat in our tent, staring into space, not speaking, not moving, for at least an hour. It was probably ten degrees cooler outside our tent, and yet we sat in our tent in a heat-induced stupor.
--I had to stand on a chair to see myself in the mirror in our room our first year at EFY.
--We instantly fell in love with two boys in our group, whom we dubbed "The Wannes" because we would cry, "Oh, I wanne!" We may have stalked them. And I think you know that "we may" means "all our pictures of them are from behind or are super blurry because they're zoomed in so far due to the fact that we were hiding in the bushes when we took them." No big.
--I got clotheslined by a tree while inflatable kayaking and did quite a graceful back tuck off the back of the kayak.
--I very nearly drowned Kenzie while we body-surfed a rapid together. Turns out I'm completely terrified of water. I was kinda sorta maybe pushing Kenzie under the water to push myself above the waves so I could breathe.
The Bank
You probably wouldn't think that very many amusing things happen while tellering at a bank. Oh how wrong you are.
--My very first day of working, I spilled a $50 bag of pennies all over the counter and the floor and then had to crawl around everyone's feet and pick them all up. While rolling those same pennies into rolls, I also encountered a human fingernail.
--The first day I worked as a teller, the girl training me stepped away from the teller window for a minute. A drunk guy came up and advised me to "never be a monkey's uncle." Good advice.
--A very creepy 50-year-old man complimented me on my "beautiful eyelashes" while we were the only two people in the lobby.
--Customers always think it's hilarious to comment on how short I am, because, admittedly, I am barely visible over the teller windows. I also had my own stool to stand on while I worked the drive-up window last summer. (That stool has, sadly, vanished since we remodeled the bank. I could really use it, too.)
--While I was home for a break between semesters, a woman came in with 15 minutes to close with $60 in pennies. Our coin machine is a bit...well, crappy, and pennies have a tendency to jam. While I was clearing one such jam, the bag that the pennies flow into after being counted fell off, and the pennies were being counted right onto the floor. My supervisor and I were helpless with laughter at that point, and the woman who had brought the pennies in assumed we were laughing at HER and got offended.
Boys
My awkward boy experiences could be a movie all their own, trust me. It's not pretty. Read on if you dare.
--Once, at an EFY dance, the boy I was dancing with conversationally asked, between "Where are you from?" and "How many siblings do you have?": "So...were you born in the covenant?"
--My very first kiss was so short and so quick I wasn't entirely sure our lips actually touched. I raced in the house and called Kenzie and she said, "Did he kiss you?!" I replied, "Um...I think so?"
--One of the aforementioned Wannes, Cameron Mackay, happened to wind up at BYU-I. I happened to wind up at one of his flag football games one time. After the game, my roommates and I were sitting on the grass talking, and he walked by and nudged me in the back in what has now been infamously dubbed the Kidney Kick. I turned around and gave him an ecstatic/creepy grin, and...didn't say a word. My roommates laughed forEVER.
--My date with Dallin my second semester at BYU-I was just awkward all around. My roommate Heidi's boyfriend (husband, now!) cornered him in the library and asked him out...and then picked him up AND dropped him off afterward. While getting out of the car on the actual date, I slipped on some more dang ice and almost ate it. Throw in a roommate who kept trying to flirt with him, an F-bomb or two in the movie we saw, a SPECTACULARLY awkward hug at the end of the date, and the fact that I was texting his roommate mere seconds after he left, and you just about get the nature of our relationship those two semesters.
--I really desperately wanted to make Matt a cake for his birthday. I had all these spectacular plans to break into his apartment and leave it there with candles lit and everything as a surprise. Well, obviously that didn't work. But I did bake him cookies...sort of. I'm basically baking-retarded. Somehow or another, the cookies went wrong. Horribly. In fact, Lauren was over and saw them before Matt got there and asked, in true Lauren fashion, "Are you really giving those to him?" They were horribly flat and I didn't bake them long enough, so they were goopy and kind of runny and just...not good. [Sidenote: He still ate them. :)]
--I was kneeling on a stool and boasting to Matt that I was taller than he was. Well, he came over to prove me wrong, and we stood/kneeled there, literally nose-to-nose, for like a full ten seconds, staring at each other. Awkward moment.
--My cousin was going on a date with a boy from her ward and she really didn't want to go. But this boy had a really good-looking little brother Cherisse's age, so they arranged a double date. Well, there was a middle brother, so I got dragged along, too--VERY much against my wishes. No one was talking, and it took a ridiculous amount of time for our food to get there. There was a lot of awkward eye-contact dodging and a LOT of awkward/nervous laughing. And then I got a speeding ticket on the way home. I was not a happy camper.
--A boy I liked was over at our apartment and I got on the topic--NO ONE KNOWS WHY--of pads. Seriously. Something is psychologically wrong with me.
--At work one day, I was giving a reading comprehension test to a very cute boy. We came to a certain section of the test that all tutors loath, because it takes forever and is beyond boring for the test-giver, as well as super frustrating for the test-taker. So I warned him of this fact by saying something like unto, "Oh, this section really sucks. It takes SO LONG!" And he said, with a smile and a wink--a WINK, I tell you!--"But I've been enjoying our time together." So how do you think I replied? I flipped the page and said, "Okay, go ahead and start." Ten minutes later, I realized he'd been trying to flirt with me. Oops.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Are you human?
You know something that bugs me? Those stupid verification things on websites where you have to type in a nonsense word to make sure you're not a spam robot or something. First off, it asks if I'm human. That always just irritates me right off the bat, because yes I am human and if I weren't, I wouldn't be able to comprehend the question, now would I? Second, the words are nonesense. Sometimes they are words or they are close to words, but usually it's a random jumble of letters and that just annoys me. And third, they ALL seem to use some strange font with lines running through it and the letters slanting up that I simply cannot read. YES I AM HUMAN BUT NO, I CAN'T TYPE THAT IN BECAUSE I CAN'T READ IT!
That is all. Carry on.
That is all. Carry on.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Things That Infuriate Me
Okay, look. I am easily infuriated. This is not a secret to myself or to anyone who has known me longer than two hours. I admit that sometimes weird things annoy me, but I can't help it. So since I've got nothing better to do, I compiled a list of things that fill me with complete rage and make me want to tear someone's face off. Let it be a warning to you.
(These are in no particular order.)
1. When my roommate leaves the toilet open.
I understand that this is a weird thing. But it REALLY bugs me. What is so hard about putting the lid down when you're done? Sometimes people carry things like their toothbrushes into the bathroom. Who wants to risk THAT inevitable mishap? (This hasn't happened...yet. It is currently one of my biggest fears.) Not only that, but do you KNOW how much fecal matter flies into the air when you flush the toilet?! My towel hangs right above it! THERE IS FECAL MATTER ALL OVER MY TOWEL BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO LAZY TO USE A SMALL FLICK OF YOUR WRIST TO PUT THE LID DOWN.
2. When people set the new roll of toilet paper on top of the rod thingy.
Is it really that much extra work for you to pull the plastic thing out and put the roll on right? Is your life REALLY that hectic that you can't spare those 5 extra seconds? I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IT'S SO HARD.
This picture actually depicts two: 3. Unrinsed dishes sitting in the sink, AND 4. Dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty/partially loaded.
You have GOT to be kidding me! If you leave food on the dishes and leave the dishes sitting out, the food becomes crusty, and believe me when I say that NO ONE enjoys scrubbing crusty food off the plates. So rinse your dishes. And guess what--we have a dishwasher. (And it ain't me.) So when the sign hanging on the dishwasher says "DIRTY," that is your cue to load your dishes. I even added a line underneath, so that it also says, "LOAD ME UP!" Seriously. A monkey could figure this out.
5. People who talk REALLY loud on the phone in public.
I don't care about your conversation. For real. Sometimes I may eavesdrop, I will admit, but usually because it's inevitable. Annoying Roommate does this frequently. We'll all be sitting in the living room, the TV will be on, people will be cooking and eating and talking, and she will be screaming into her phone and laughing her annoying laugh. UGH! Just go in a different room! So annoying.
6. Allergies
Summertime=bliss. Sunshine, softball, lacrosse, hay, beautifully irrigated fields, being barefoot, dripping with sweat on your morning run, picnics, being tan, fishing, camping, fires, s'mores, mosquito bites, watermelon, hot dogs...seriously, best time EVER. Unfortunately, I have hay fever, which means all those blissful things also entail sneezing, boogers, snot, wheezing + the inability to breathe, itchy eyes that swell shut if you rub them, and an INTENSE itching in the back of the throat that is impossible to get rid of, even when making a heinously ugly bullfrog-like noise. I don't know if I have super allergies or just crappy medicine, but nothing works except Benedryl, which KNOCKS you right out. That's probably why it works--I'm just asleep for three months and then when I finally wake up, allergy season is over.
Another two parter: 7. Clingers, and 8. Hoverers.
Do NOT cling to me. (Unless you're a child. I mean, that can still get annoying, but I'll handle that one.) I am not your Siamese twin; we don't have to be touching at all times. Even if you are the love of my life, most gorgeous man on Earth, I want to spend eternity with you, you don't always need to be holding my hand/playing with my hair/wrapping your arm around my waist or shoulders/rubbing my back. Sometimes, I just want you to BACK UP and GET OUT OF MY BUBBLE and STOP TOUCHING ME and LET ME BREATHE, OH-MY-FREAKING-LANTA YOU ARE SUFFOCATING ME. And then there's the hovering thing. If there's something going on, hoverers have to be there. Conversations that have NOTHING to do with them and that they are not a part of? They'll butt in. They hear laughter and they come running and--before they even hear the joke--they start laughing, too. Oh, how it irks me. IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME.
I should really just find two more to make it a nice, even 10 (seriously, my OCD is kind of bothering me about it...I won't even admit how many other things about this post have been changed for this very same reason), but I've spent far too long on this and I'm done.
(These are in no particular order.)
1. When my roommate leaves the toilet open.
I understand that this is a weird thing. But it REALLY bugs me. What is so hard about putting the lid down when you're done? Sometimes people carry things like their toothbrushes into the bathroom. Who wants to risk THAT inevitable mishap? (This hasn't happened...yet. It is currently one of my biggest fears.) Not only that, but do you KNOW how much fecal matter flies into the air when you flush the toilet?! My towel hangs right above it! THERE IS FECAL MATTER ALL OVER MY TOWEL BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO LAZY TO USE A SMALL FLICK OF YOUR WRIST TO PUT THE LID DOWN.2. When people set the new roll of toilet paper on top of the rod thingy.
Is it really that much extra work for you to pull the plastic thing out and put the roll on right? Is your life REALLY that hectic that you can't spare those 5 extra seconds? I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IT'S SO HARD.This picture actually depicts two: 3. Unrinsed dishes sitting in the sink, AND 4. Dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty/partially loaded.
You have GOT to be kidding me! If you leave food on the dishes and leave the dishes sitting out, the food becomes crusty, and believe me when I say that NO ONE enjoys scrubbing crusty food off the plates. So rinse your dishes. And guess what--we have a dishwasher. (And it ain't me.) So when the sign hanging on the dishwasher says "DIRTY," that is your cue to load your dishes. I even added a line underneath, so that it also says, "LOAD ME UP!" Seriously. A monkey could figure this out.5. People who talk REALLY loud on the phone in public.
I don't care about your conversation. For real. Sometimes I may eavesdrop, I will admit, but usually because it's inevitable. Annoying Roommate does this frequently. We'll all be sitting in the living room, the TV will be on, people will be cooking and eating and talking, and she will be screaming into her phone and laughing her annoying laugh. UGH! Just go in a different room! So annoying.
6. Allergies
Summertime=bliss. Sunshine, softball, lacrosse, hay, beautifully irrigated fields, being barefoot, dripping with sweat on your morning run, picnics, being tan, fishing, camping, fires, s'mores, mosquito bites, watermelon, hot dogs...seriously, best time EVER. Unfortunately, I have hay fever, which means all those blissful things also entail sneezing, boogers, snot, wheezing + the inability to breathe, itchy eyes that swell shut if you rub them, and an INTENSE itching in the back of the throat that is impossible to get rid of, even when making a heinously ugly bullfrog-like noise. I don't know if I have super allergies or just crappy medicine, but nothing works except Benedryl, which KNOCKS you right out. That's probably why it works--I'm just asleep for three months and then when I finally wake up, allergy season is over.Another two parter: 7. Clingers, and 8. Hoverers.
Do NOT cling to me. (Unless you're a child. I mean, that can still get annoying, but I'll handle that one.) I am not your Siamese twin; we don't have to be touching at all times. Even if you are the love of my life, most gorgeous man on Earth, I want to spend eternity with you, you don't always need to be holding my hand/playing with my hair/wrapping your arm around my waist or shoulders/rubbing my back. Sometimes, I just want you to BACK UP and GET OUT OF MY BUBBLE and STOP TOUCHING ME and LET ME BREATHE, OH-MY-FREAKING-LANTA YOU ARE SUFFOCATING ME. And then there's the hovering thing. If there's something going on, hoverers have to be there. Conversations that have NOTHING to do with them and that they are not a part of? They'll butt in. They hear laughter and they come running and--before they even hear the joke--they start laughing, too. Oh, how it irks me. IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME.I should really just find two more to make it a nice, even 10 (seriously, my OCD is kind of bothering me about it...I won't even admit how many other things about this post have been changed for this very same reason), but I've spent far too long on this and I'm done.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
We are fun girls!
I just sat staring here at the screen for like 10 minutes trying to think up a witty title. I finally decided to leave it blank. Maybe inspiration will hit as I'm typing...okay that was an experiment and still nothing. Poop.
So my softball team is in the championship game this weekend. That's fun, except I'm about 90% sure I won't be playing. And one of the other teams is crying about when we beat them by one run in the last inning on a bad call by the umpire. They're saying he made the call because he's dating our coach, which he IS but ISN'T why he made the call. He had already made the same call during the game in the other team's favor and in the game the week before. So get off our freaking necks.
I had a really stellar weekend because Annoying Roommate (trust me, annoying is a COMPLETE UNDERSTATEMENT) went to Utah for a family reunion. She left Wednesday night and the rest of us wanted to PARTY. But we didn't, because we're kind of anticlimactic and boring like that. I can't even think of one thing I did that night...I'm thinking we watched TV and ate Otter Pops. It's pretty much what we do every night. But it was so glorious without her annoying comments and her annoying chewing and her general annoyingness! Thursday...yeah, we still didn't do anything fun. Friday night we had softball games to attend to, but afterward we got a pizza and rented She's All That (we wanted 10 Things I Hate About You but it was gone--curses!) and were so excited to watch a movie and eat pizza at our apartment WITHOUT Annoying Roommate and we popped the movie in and...
Our DVD player wouldn't play it. It said it exceeded the parental control settings. It's PG-13! Ugh. We've had this problem before, with Far and Away, AKA my favorite movie EVER. We don't know the password for it, either, so we just had to go to a different apartment. Wah wah. And then we hit up the park for some swinging/sliding/monkey barring action. It was fun besides the fact that we were all exhausted and falling asleep on the play equipment. And then we walked down the hall--I live at in 101 and we had to walk down the whole hallway, past 110 and 109 and so on--and every single apartment we passed was either devoid of girls or full of girls on dates with boys. We were admiring everyone's decor; lots of cutesy curtains and quotes and furniture and such. Then we (three single girls with absolutely no boys in sight) walked into our apartment and were hit with an overwhelmingly disgusting stench coming from the sink, which was overflowing with dirty dishes. The garbage was spilling over, the counters were dirty, and we all kind of looked around and looked at each other and shrugged and sighed and decided that was why were hanging out together, just the three of us, on a Friday night, instead of on dates.
But then we kind of didn't care anymore and all went to bed.
A frequent topic of discussion in our apartment is "Why don't boys like us?" We are, I assure you, VERY fun girls. We are all funny and smart and witty and (except for Annoying Roommate) not annoying. And the most repeated part of this recurring discussion is, "I mean, I'm not disfigured or anything!" We just don't really understand what girls DO to make boys chase after them! We were observing some girls at devotional one Tuesday, trying to pick up tips, but they all did the stupidest things...the eyelash-batting, hair-flipping, giggling type of things that will NEVER happen for myself or my roommate Kay Lynn. We discussed the idea of wearing foofy perfume, but rejected it because, well, we're not very girly. And I always get a headache when people wear perfume. So that's out of the question. But those girls always have boys after them! And then we decided that we didn't want the type of boys that went for those types of girls.
Unfortunately, that leaves us with...no one. Wah wah. So we've gone back to Plan A--waiting until our missionaries get home. They're better than all the stupid boys here anyway.
I finally thought of a title! It's what I yell for the whole apartment when we start the "why don't we have boys" conversation. Because we ARE. Please take the liberty of checking out how fun we are below.
4-wheeling!
Riding around in the backs of trucks in various states of sunburn!
Getting in our uniforms 2+ hours before our games and showing off our amazing muscles!
Seriously. We just don't understand why we don't have any other friends besides each other...but then we realize we are too cool for anyone else anyway.
So my softball team is in the championship game this weekend. That's fun, except I'm about 90% sure I won't be playing. And one of the other teams is crying about when we beat them by one run in the last inning on a bad call by the umpire. They're saying he made the call because he's dating our coach, which he IS but ISN'T why he made the call. He had already made the same call during the game in the other team's favor and in the game the week before. So get off our freaking necks.
I had a really stellar weekend because Annoying Roommate (trust me, annoying is a COMPLETE UNDERSTATEMENT) went to Utah for a family reunion. She left Wednesday night and the rest of us wanted to PARTY. But we didn't, because we're kind of anticlimactic and boring like that. I can't even think of one thing I did that night...I'm thinking we watched TV and ate Otter Pops. It's pretty much what we do every night. But it was so glorious without her annoying comments and her annoying chewing and her general annoyingness! Thursday...yeah, we still didn't do anything fun. Friday night we had softball games to attend to, but afterward we got a pizza and rented She's All That (we wanted 10 Things I Hate About You but it was gone--curses!) and were so excited to watch a movie and eat pizza at our apartment WITHOUT Annoying Roommate and we popped the movie in and...
Our DVD player wouldn't play it. It said it exceeded the parental control settings. It's PG-13! Ugh. We've had this problem before, with Far and Away, AKA my favorite movie EVER. We don't know the password for it, either, so we just had to go to a different apartment. Wah wah. And then we hit up the park for some swinging/sliding/monkey barring action. It was fun besides the fact that we were all exhausted and falling asleep on the play equipment. And then we walked down the hall--I live at in 101 and we had to walk down the whole hallway, past 110 and 109 and so on--and every single apartment we passed was either devoid of girls or full of girls on dates with boys. We were admiring everyone's decor; lots of cutesy curtains and quotes and furniture and such. Then we (three single girls with absolutely no boys in sight) walked into our apartment and were hit with an overwhelmingly disgusting stench coming from the sink, which was overflowing with dirty dishes. The garbage was spilling over, the counters were dirty, and we all kind of looked around and looked at each other and shrugged and sighed and decided that was why were hanging out together, just the three of us, on a Friday night, instead of on dates.
But then we kind of didn't care anymore and all went to bed.
A frequent topic of discussion in our apartment is "Why don't boys like us?" We are, I assure you, VERY fun girls. We are all funny and smart and witty and (except for Annoying Roommate) not annoying. And the most repeated part of this recurring discussion is, "I mean, I'm not disfigured or anything!" We just don't really understand what girls DO to make boys chase after them! We were observing some girls at devotional one Tuesday, trying to pick up tips, but they all did the stupidest things...the eyelash-batting, hair-flipping, giggling type of things that will NEVER happen for myself or my roommate Kay Lynn. We discussed the idea of wearing foofy perfume, but rejected it because, well, we're not very girly. And I always get a headache when people wear perfume. So that's out of the question. But those girls always have boys after them! And then we decided that we didn't want the type of boys that went for those types of girls.
Unfortunately, that leaves us with...no one. Wah wah. So we've gone back to Plan A--waiting until our missionaries get home. They're better than all the stupid boys here anyway.
I finally thought of a title! It's what I yell for the whole apartment when we start the "why don't we have boys" conversation. Because we ARE. Please take the liberty of checking out how fun we are below.
4-wheeling!
Riding around in the backs of trucks in various states of sunburn!
Getting in our uniforms 2+ hours before our games and showing off our amazing muscles!Seriously. We just don't understand why we don't have any other friends besides each other...but then we realize we are too cool for anyone else anyway.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Maiden Voyage
So, I wanted to have something profound (AKA funny) to write about for this very first blog post, but...nothing. I'm not in a very happy/funny mood because I live with 5 girls and that always puts me in a bad mood (although this semester only one is annoying...but she's as annoying as five annoying ones mixed together). Plus I am in college and boys are stupid. (Not at all of them, you know, but a vast majority, especially the ones at BYU-I.) I will most likely end up eating another chocolate covered chocolate chip granola bar, even though I've already had 3 today (AND a frosted blueberry one) and I just bought them last night.
I swear I'm not a binge eater or anything like that.
I just have an addiction to all these chocolate. Like, if a dessert doesn't have chocolate I almost don't even want to use to energy it takes to eat it. Hence the title. Also, I'm a midget. Not the kind that gets a show on TLC (though a boy I work with [and subsequently am madly in love with] and I are working on that); the kind that has to use a step-stool to get the toilet paper down because her roommates keep it on TOP of the kitchen cabinet. Who even does that? Seriously, there are two cabinets under the sink that could easily hold toilet paper! I've moved it before and it keeps mysteriously ending up there. But the toilet paper I buy goes under the sink.
Anyway. As you can see, I enjoy parentheses and caps lock. (SOMETIMES IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO ADEQUATRLY EXPLAIN HOW ANGRY/ANNOYED YOU ARE.) I didn't even know shift capitalized things until like 8th grade.
(I'm eating one of my granola bars right now. 4 down, 4 to go.)
I'm also ticked because the mail never came today! (Well, Kay Lynn and I are saying it never came...it's easier to blame the mailman [woman, actually] than face the idea that we just didn't get any mail.) We both have missionaries we're writing, so we check the mail approximately four times a day...each.
Quit judging us.
This blogging thing is kind of fun! I can just babble away and type and type and type and type. It's almost better than talking out loud because I'll never know if people stop listening/reading. People frequently stop listening while I'm talking and I can see it on their faces, but here you could just click the x and stop reading and I won't be able to tell. But I really don't have anything else to say. I don't feel like venting about stupid boys because I'm bored with that subject. (I live with 5 girls, remember? It's a frequent topic of conversation. Plus it's been a bad boy week, so I've been talking about it a lot.)
My new favorite song is called "You Picked Me" by A Fine Frenzy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaCRVxCxX0A
Check it out. I'm going to be busy resisting the urge to eat ANOTHER granola bar. Maybe I'll settle for an Otter Pop.
I swear I'm not a binge eater or anything like that.
I just have an addiction to all these chocolate. Like, if a dessert doesn't have chocolate I almost don't even want to use to energy it takes to eat it. Hence the title. Also, I'm a midget. Not the kind that gets a show on TLC (though a boy I work with [and subsequently am madly in love with] and I are working on that); the kind that has to use a step-stool to get the toilet paper down because her roommates keep it on TOP of the kitchen cabinet. Who even does that? Seriously, there are two cabinets under the sink that could easily hold toilet paper! I've moved it before and it keeps mysteriously ending up there. But the toilet paper I buy goes under the sink.
Anyway. As you can see, I enjoy parentheses and caps lock. (SOMETIMES IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO ADEQUATRLY EXPLAIN HOW ANGRY/ANNOYED YOU ARE.) I didn't even know shift capitalized things until like 8th grade.
(I'm eating one of my granola bars right now. 4 down, 4 to go.)
I'm also ticked because the mail never came today! (Well, Kay Lynn and I are saying it never came...it's easier to blame the mailman [woman, actually] than face the idea that we just didn't get any mail.) We both have missionaries we're writing, so we check the mail approximately four times a day...each.
Quit judging us.
This blogging thing is kind of fun! I can just babble away and type and type and type and type. It's almost better than talking out loud because I'll never know if people stop listening/reading. People frequently stop listening while I'm talking and I can see it on their faces, but here you could just click the x and stop reading and I won't be able to tell. But I really don't have anything else to say. I don't feel like venting about stupid boys because I'm bored with that subject. (I live with 5 girls, remember? It's a frequent topic of conversation. Plus it's been a bad boy week, so I've been talking about it a lot.)
My new favorite song is called "You Picked Me" by A Fine Frenzy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaCRVxCxX0A
Check it out. I'm going to be busy resisting the urge to eat ANOTHER granola bar. Maybe I'll settle for an Otter Pop.
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