Assorted News

First off, I got my LSAT score back. And ohhhhhhh baby am I proud of myself! I got a 163, which is the 88th percentile. I keep going back to the website to look at my score to make sure I really did read it right and it really isn't going away.

It's probably good enough to get me into my top choices (University of Maryland, BYU, George Washington, Lewis and Clark, Gonzaga), but my GPA may possibly drag me down. 3.5 sounds great when compared to my 2.8 roommate, but it doesn't look so hot next to all the 3.7s and 3.8s I'll be up against. Curses on Hebrew and Anatomy for giving me so much trouble! (But they were definitely my favorite classes and taught me the most. Why can't I be graded on how hard I tried and how much I learned?)

In other news, my "no-crush" resolution from the last post was a dismal failure. I lasted all of three weeks into the semester. I was holding out. I went the whole 7-week break prepping myself. I was really doing it. I did not flirt with a male in all that time, though at least one tried. In fact, I was so anti-boy I was rude. It was mean of me. And this particular new boy got some of that meanness in the beginning, before I even noticed him.

And then one day at work I heard a voice behind me and turned around to look and...well, he was cute. But then I forgot about him and went back to my man-hating. Until a few days later, when there was an open seat next to him.

"Okay, self," I told myself, "You have two options. You can stay away from him and keep your resolution and save yourself a lot of trouble and worrying and heartache. Or you can go sit next to him, talk to him, and inevitably end up with a crush on him that will most likely end in more frustration, tears, and pain."

Obviously I chose B.

It took about 5 seconds for me to develop a mad crush on him. He is smart, funny, very cute, nice, and (I think like this best of all) he tells me things like "You are beautiful" and "You make me smile" and "You're one of my favorite people" and wraps me up in big giant hugs in his big giant arms and smiles big giant smiles down at me. It's completely foreign and slightly scary but kind of amazing at the same time. :)

I keep telling myself not to get my hopes up, but myself won't listen and my hopes are already up. He seems pretty interested in me, but then again a few before him have seemed that way, as well. We shall see. I just hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot by half-expecting him to turn out to be a waste of time. I have a hard time believing it could be that easy--I could like someone and he could actually like me back, just like that. It's never happened that way before. I'm a sociologist. I follow trends and patterns, and this does not fit the trend. I want to do research and study and understand it scientifically.

Blogging is obviously not one of my talents. Apparently I only use this thing to vent. Sorry to anyone who has to read all those. I promise I have fun and love my life and am very blessed and all that jazz. I need to vent though. I'll mix good things in, too.

--Shooting guns is fun, and I am lucky to have good ol' country boys as my friends who have guns and are willing to take me shooting and let me waste their shells. I cannot hit a moving target to save my life (I really doubt that will ever be necessary to save my life, luckily), but I'm not too bad at blowing the branches off bushes. Sorry, nature.

--I've been pretty into Bob Marley lately. Just his music, not his drugs or hairstyle. Unsanitary.

--I am tan. Not really tan compared to many other people, but tan compared to my winter-self, which is always a fun thing. I've actually had several people comment on it, and the other day I was the tannest person out of our group of blonde, blue-eyed Aryans. Thank you very much!

--Sometimes I really hate girls. Why are they so mean to each other? And by that I mean: why do they always have to try to steal the boy I want? Especially when they are one of my really good friends and know better than anyone how much I like said boy? And why is it the girls who do that are always the ones who seem to have some kind of magnetic device that attracts all boys to them, no matter what, so even if he wanted to resist her wiles and pick me he would be powerless to do so?

--I also sometimes really hate boys. Why does it not matter if you've been friends for a long time and hang out every day and talk about everything and are super close? Why do they always choose some girl they barely know just because of that stupid magnet thing, even though she's way too young for them and way too high maintenance for them and doesn't even like the same music they do, for CRYING OUT LOUD??! And why do some boys who have been your best friend for 7 months and cuddle with you and call you every other day and have sisters you hang out with and get along with really well have to start dating someone else and then ask you for advice about it? Or boys you wrote to every week for their whole mission and sent packages to on their birthdays get home and start dating someone else and tell you they hope it works out with that girl because she was the only one who wrote to him who he "saw any potential with." That part is definitely not fun.

--It's finals week. I finished a paper today, have 8 more pages of another paper to write, haven't studied even one second for my anatomy and physiology final tomorrow, and have to take a final at 7 am on Friday. Why on Earth does a final exam at 7 am even EXIST? That's disgusting. My brain is supposed to be on and writing essays about value theory ethics and consequentialism at 7 in the morning? Yeah, right.

--I've decided to move to a different apartment complex after fall semester. That's a huge deal for me. I've never moved. I have lived in the same complex for the entire 3 years I've been in college, and I've been in the exact same apartment for over a year now. I don't deal with change well, which is why I need to do it. I am scared, even though it's really not that big a deal.

--My brother is getting married. Weird. I am going to have a sister-in-law. And I've never met her. So strange. And I admit I was upset at first. Working on that.

--I teach the students I tutor about time management. I am a hypocrite. Luckily they don't know that.

--Seriously, I'm mad about my roommate trying to hork my man. I've been seething about it all weekend and specifically all day yesterday and today. Plus when stuff like that happens I tend to back off rather than fight harder for him, so I haven't talked to him in like two days, which is actually not normal for us and is making me more upset. Oh, what a mess. I denounce men from here on out. I'm moving to the moon and my law degree will have to keep me warm at night, until I'm an actual lawyer and pay off my student debts and can afford a fancy heater. And then we'll see who's laughing when I'm rich and have a yacht and buy my own small island with the money I'm saving due to my large income and expenses of only one person and possibly some cacti (no cats because I hate them), which are the ideal plant because they are actually better off if you leave them to their own devices.

--I suddenly just caught a very strong whiff of skunk coming through my open window. Gag.

--I'm going home for 7 weeks and have no idea if I have a job or anything. I emailed the supervisor at the bank and haven't heard back. That will be an extremely long 7 weeks if I have no job. Not to mention the fact that I will end up being a bum and not getting to eat in the fall as a trade-off for having a place to live.

Bitterness over. Time for bed. I need to finish my paper and take my tests and pack up what I'm taking home for 7 weeks and clean...but it's 11:06 and that's actually half an hour later than I usually stay up.

You know those moments when you're thinking about the future in relation to your own life and specifically the complications that are most likely going to arise and you start hyperventilating and getting scared and wanting to hide in your bed with your head under your covers and cuddle up to your baby blanket and your stuffed dog?

Yeah...those aren't very fun.

I had one of those days today, for a couple of reasons. Reason one was because I had to do an assignment for my class to look up grad schools and pick the top three I'm interested in. Since I'm planning on law school, I was looking at those. Apparently they're all on the east coast and cost upwards of 40,000 smackers. So I had a small freak-out over that. Reason two was it's the end of the semester and endings always make me freak out. I just don't deal with transitions very well, especially when the friend I've been spending pretty much every day with and getting super close to is graduating and going home. :( WAH WAH!

On the plus side, my missionary friend comes home in 6 weeks. :) :) :) I miss him and can't wait for him to be home and hang out with me! And when I come back to Rexburg it will be on the upward swing of the weather! Sunshine always makes everything better. Annnnd I get to go home this weekend and be with my family for a whole week! YAY!!!

Thoughts

I have been thinking a lot lately.

(Is this new?)

Okay, I usually think. Too much, usually. I think and worry and over-analyze. But I have been thinking about my feelings. I don't really do that very often. In fact, my motto is usually "Ignore 'em 'til they go away." If I don't dwell on my feelings I don't have to deal with them, right?

I am learning that this is unhealthy. Who knew?

Anyway, one of my feelings is of...I'm not sure how to phrase it. (I need a reverse dictionary. You know, like for when I know what I'm trying to say but don't have one specific word for it. You'd think with all the new-fangled technologies we've got these days someone could manage to invent that.) I just feel like I haven't done anything in my life. I will end up being in college for 5 years. And then I still have 3 years of law school. So, eight years of schooling.

Woop woop? No. Not a big woop. All I will have to show for all this is a piece of paper and a lot of debt.

So then I started thinking mission. That's an option.

I'd also love to go to Africa and hang out in the orphanages there. Give out vaccinations. Teach little kids how to read.

Israel will always be on my list.

I've never been to Mt. Rushmore. I've never been to the Statue of Liberty or the Lincoln Memorial or the Liberty Bell or Arlington National Cemetery or the Library of Congress or seen the original Constitution or the Rocky statue in Philadelphia. (Yes, I put Rocky on the same list as our nation's roots. Deal with it.) I want to do all these things, see all these things!

I guess that's my bucket list. Except I don't know if they're possible. American history? I may be able to tackle those. Israel? Less possible. Africa? Probably even less. I need to win a multimillion dollar court case and get money to do all these things. (And I don't mean a lawsuit for something stupid like hot coffee. I mean as a lawyer, I need to kick butt in the courtroom and argue my case and win and get a very large cut of the money.)

I don't even really know why I'm doing all this rambling. I'm in a very introspective mood lately, when I have time to stop and think--which actually isn't all that much because I have ridiculous amounts of homework these days. But all my roommates have boyfriends, so on the off chance I do have free time, I spend it alone. Wah wah.

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' kitchen 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 positive this doesn't even need an explanation. No music=no life.











8. BYU-Idaho
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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.