Man Power

A few weeks ago my poor roommate was seen in her car---absolutely positively stuck in the snow--- at FHE. Luckily, four very eager young fellows kindly "unstuck" her car in a very manly way. It was a very tough job to do, but witnesses (all females) believe the following study found in a blog is the explanation for the brute strength phenomenon. Aaron the blogger (http://aaronfairchild.blogspot.com) writes:

See the entry two posts down from this one regarding working out with hot girls around. Now this little blucrb from my January/February 2009 issue of Men's Health Magazine:

"It starts with boys showing off on the playground, and the performance never ends: When a woman is around, men work harder. In a new German study, men pushed themselves 12 percent harder and complained less about pain during a bicycle stress test when a female doctor supervised than when a man did. Study author Christian Jung, M.D., says the results could translate to your gym: "Working out with a woman may help you push harder, probably because men are evolutionarily programmed to impress woman," he says. Choose your treadmill wisely."

Now, I only thought I'd throw in Aaron the Blogger's previous post just for kicks, and then I'll get to my point.

You know what makes an otherwise grueling and painful workout much more bearable? A hot chick.

Let me explain. I don't know of anyone who enjoys the pain associated with lifting weights or working your body hard. That pain is just something you pit up with for later benefits, whether it's increased health, a good post-workout sensation, bigger muscles, flatter tummy, whatever. If you don't experience some measure of pain and discomfort while at the gym, then you're doing something wrong. So what better way to distract your mind from such pain than an attractive member of the opposite sex? This has several benefits. First, there's the mere eye candy aspect (but don't stare, you creep). Second, she serves as a distraction. Third, you might complete your sets with better form because you don't want to look like a dork. Forth, you complete all reps in your set because you don't want to look like a wimp. Fifth,it passes the time faster. I'm going to stop making a numbered list now because it's getting on my nerves. You might also decide to exercise a little longer than you normally would have, because of that person's presence.

Back in social psychology, they taught us that your performance will improve if you are being observed by others, provided that you are comfortable with the task at hand, or already proficient. (Conversely, if you are inexperienced with the particular task, or not confident in your abilities, your performance will worsen in the presence of observers.) I think this is kind of the principle at work here. Generally unpleasant experiences are made much more bearable with the presence of some positive association, whether it be a person, music, feeling, etc. This is also why sometimes I study more effectively when I'm with friends.

So in the end I don't think it's such a bad thing that gyms are "meat markets." That guy who has been following you from station to station for the past half-hour? He's not a creepy stalker. He's just using you to make his workout easer. There, don't you feel better now?

Wasn't that hilarious?! haha. Now my point...So, over the weekend I had to move some really heavy cement cinder blocks that I put under my bed to hoist it up so that I can shove copious amounts of junk underneath. I'm no weakling. In fact I'd say I have the strength of any girl my age if not ever so slightly more. However, I could definitely only lift one cinder block at a time. Two would have been darn near crazy impossible. Three would have been utterly unthinkable. However, some of my friends helped me moved these cinder blocks (thank goodness! :) ) including a guy in my ward. However, this gentlemen was able to carry THREE at a time (with what looked like relative ease)!!!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? Sure, he's bigger than me, but not by THAT much!!! So, my question is "Was this extra strength due to the presence of several females at the time or are girls really that weak?!" Holy cow...I now think I'm going to have to take up martial arts or something to even the playing field :S

CHEAP!

It's 4:30, in the AM. No, I did not stay up all night 'til now. No, I did not wake up from my blissful, peaceful sleep just to blog. No, I did not wake up from my gloriously, happy slumber because of some emergency. I AM AWAKE BECAUSE MY BEDROOM CEILING IS LEAKING AGAIN.... ON MEEEE!!!

The first time it leaked it was somewhat amusing if you will. I even took pictures :) Of course we were afraid that our whole ceiling was going to cave in due to the almost constant trickle of water down the heavy ceiling fan in the very center of the room....but it was still okay. Plus, it really wasn't a big deal (even if management took several LONG days to fix this issue) because we just plopped a bowl in the middle of the floor (a very BIG bowl...any smaller would have overflowed) and walked around it. The second leak...NOT SO AMUSING. How did I find it??? By waking up to the bottom third of my bed being SOAKED. Now, I promised myself when starting this blog not to get personal....BUT THIS IS PERSONAL (or at least more like a PERSONAL ASSAULT!!!)

Last year I lived in "ritzy housing." I had moved there on accident, only to discover that my whole stake consisted on a congregation full of orange-skinned, blond people. Don't get me wrong, I had fun while it lasted, but I was happy to move somewhere else after that experience. So, we went to the extreme this year for housing...and moved somewhere were rent is CHEAP. I don't recommend that at all. I'm finding out cheap=we need to repair half your apartment on a regular basis. Just FYI. Plus, the only water problems we ever had in the "ritzy" apartment was when some kid decided to pose as maintenance the evening before April Fool's Day and turn off our water heater. We had cold showers for a day, but hey,...it's not like THAT woke me up at 4:30.

Anyway, I am now about to lay my head on the couch because the very big bowl is now on top of my bed doing its thing. This is so WRONG...help :(

Just Don't Wave a Twinkie in Front of My Face, K?

Tonight I did a horrible thing. I went to the grocery store and BOUGHT OUT Maceys. I knew to eat before I went so that I wasn't hungry BUT.... I don't think that helped AT ALL. When I arrived, I started in the produce section. That put me in a "healthy" mood. I now own fresh fruit, frozen fruit, liquid fruit (juice), and low calorie snacks. Then, I got in a "what if I'm not in a 'healthy' mood tomorrow and am starving for something fattening?" mood. I added Cracker Jacks, frozen pizzas, and Good & Plenty candy to the cart. That lead to other food ideas which placed the following justifications in my head:

"Hey, this is cheap!..."
"Wow, this will last me forever!..."
"Goodness me, I will really enjoy this!..."
"Interesting, I've never had this before!..."
"Hallelujah, this looks tasty!..."

Anyway, my roommates now hate me....they don't know they hate me yet...but they hate me. This hate will fill their bosoms once they open our fridge...umm....and our cabinets....umm....and probably our closet too....and they realize the lack of space (and when I mean lack...I don't mean "less" but I do mean "none")

But that's okay....I have one last justification.

"Gosh golly gee, this will make wonderful food storage!..." :)

(And, I'm helping others practice love, patience, and forgiveness....definitely worth it, right?)

Initiative.

Boy met girl in his ward at church. Boy asked girl out on date on the spot. Girl was busy that night. Boy asked girl out on the next night...a school night! Girl wasn't busy. Girl said "yes." Boy and girl went out on date.

Initiative.

It's a wonderful thing.

No, this did not happen to me (just for clarification's sake).

Yes, this is just an example that miracles have not ceased.

If all boys were as manly as previously noted boy, the Happy Valley single's population would be cut down in half.

Amen.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I was on my way to the JFSB across from the JKB, not to be confused with the JSB where I take D & C, to meet by BFF. I was trying to convince her to change to MFHD instead of PDBIO, so she can graduate with her MRS degree instead of a PHD. But, she said she wants her PHD or maybe to become an M.D. to be a DR. Plus, if she really wanted to be an MRS, she would have gone to Rexburg at BYU-I-DO, where it's a "ring before spring or your money back."

"True that," I said, but to get through to her head, I mentioned UVSC, now UVU, or LDS BC in SLC, where unlike at BYU she would actually have time for a little R & R or TLC for her ward's hott EQP.

"True that," she said, but I stopped in my stead, 'cause I realized I had to cath the UTA because it was Monday, and gosh golly me.....it's almost FHE!

Upon arriving home, I wasn't alone. My roomie was eating ice cream while watching MTV, and I thought, "OMG!" I mean, WWJD? Something was wrong. That filthy media didn't belong. I told her, "Remember who you are! And CTR!" But, I found out she was grieving the DTR with the VL guy she had met at our ward's last Munch & Mingle were everyone's single, AKA "Meet and Greet" or "Linger Longer" or "Chat & Chew" or my personal favorite "Flirt & Feed" where a cute RM is all you need. Because, a boy ain't a man 'til he comes home from his mission. And, we don't like boys. We throw rocks at them. But, we like men. They give us rocks. Unless the dude just got home, then leave him alone, because everyone knows, as the saying goes, "Say no to pot. Say no to crack. Say no to the missionary who just got back."

Speaking of missionaries, at FHE where it was BYOS (which I forgot I confess) our Dad told us endless tales about his 2 years in Wales. He spoke like a Brit...and I wondered, "Was the accent legit?" He's been back for a year, was he being sincere?

After the stories were done, I left for a DI run. I found a Mo-Tab CD and a Princess Bride DVD. But before I was through, I ran into Sue who I met years ago at EFY who's now dating the guy that was an RA at DT (may it R.I.P.) who once tried to have a NICMO with me. It had all started, it's true, when he had asked me, "Is your name Virtue?" I had said no and asked why. He said, "Because you've been garnishing my thoughts unceasingly" with a wink of his eye.

And that was my day. Let us give thanks and pray for the flippin' sweet Happy Valley way (of life)! :)

Acronym Glossory:

AKA: Also Known As
BFF: Best Friend Forever
BYOS: Bring Your Own Scriptures
BYU: Brigham Young University
CTR: Choose the Right
D & C: Doctrine & Covenants
DI: Deseret Industries
DT: Deseret Towers (the old dorms at BYU that were tragically torned down)
DTR: Define the Relationship
EFY: Especially for Youth
EQP: Elders Quorum President
FHE: Family Home Evening
JFSB: Joseph F. Smith Building at BYU
JKB: Jesse Knight Building at BYU
JSB: Joseph Smith Building
LDS BC: Latter-day Saint Business College
MFHD: Marriage, Family, and Home Development major at BYU
Mo-Tab: Mormon Tabernacle Choir
NICMO: Non-Commital Make Out
OMG: Oh My Goodness!
PDBIO: Physiology and Developmental Biology major at BYU
RA: Resident Assistand (the peer supervisor they have in BYU dorms)
R.I.P.: Rest in Peace
R & R: Rest & Relaxation
SLC: Salt Lake City
TLC: Tender Loving Care
UTA: Utah Transit Authority (the bus)
UVSC: Utah Valley State College
UVU: Utah Valley University (the other "university")
VL: Virgin Lips
WWJD?: What Would Jesus Do?

An Intelligent Discussion of Desserts of the Frozen Type

What's the deal with Happy Valley frozen yogurt? Sure, it's not half bad....but that only means it's half good. Though, that's not my problem...I think they should be charging half the price . If real ice cream from fancy smancy ice cream shops costs around 4 bucks, why should a similar product with HALF of the calories cost 4 bucks too? You're only getting half as much!!! I think I walked out hungrier than I was before I consumed the frozen dairy treat. And really, charging half the price would almost be overcharging because we all know that frozen yogurt is just a stones throw away from a snow cone. Yet, the price of snowcones even depreciates in the winter because instead of buying crushed ice, we can literally just walk outside, scoop up some of that fluffy white stuff, and make our own for free (well...after paying a few cents for a drizzle of sugary surupy goodness...which technically you don't even have to worry about if your fortunate enough to find that extra special naturally yellow snow...pssshhh...and I bet that it even has more vitamins and minerals than frozen yogurt even with organic fruit topping!). What about Hawiaan Ice , you may ask? Well, they can charge more for that than a snow cone because of the name...it's exotic. That's saying something. It may be rediculous, but really...we do it all the time....buy things for the name that is. I mean, you could see the same red T-shrit at the Gap and buy it for 30 bucks just because it says "GAP," when you can find the exact same T-shirt at Walmart without the logo for $5. Okay, you're right....Walmart clothing quality is drastically subpar in relation to the Gap (baaad example), but work with me here. Frozen yogurt on the other hand...that doesn't even have a spiffy name. In fact, it brings to mind a crude visualization of sticking Go-Gurts in the freezer for kicks...still definitely not worth 4 bucks thank you very much.

A Touchy-Feely Matter

I'm boring. Once again I'm reverting to blogging about the life of someone else (instead of moi...I know that's disappointing...but don't be too sad, k?). haha. I blame finals :)

My friend's girlfriend was telling us a very awkward dating story last night...probably one of the best ones I've heard. She was on a double date at the movies. The two girls were sitting in the middle, and there was a guy at each end. Apparently, each guy was really into makin' a move on their date that night and smoothly went to hold their date's hand. When one of the girls looked down, she noticed that the boy's were unknowingly holding each others hands. I didn't get a super good mental picture of the logistics of how this exactly happened....but who cares....it did! Haha!!! The best part is was not only were the two boys holding hands, but there was also hand CARESSING going on. They must have been using some intense femmy moisturizers or something to realize they weren't holdin' the hand of a true girl. Or, maybe they were just used to holding man hands? Let's not judge ;)

Not My Story to Tell

Hey there. So, I heard a story true story today from a girlie at school that had me smiling, so I thought I'd pass on the love. She has a brother that helped deliver a baby in the hospital for his job the other day. Wanting to congratulate the mother on her new bundle of joy, the brother looked to see what the baby was named before he went in the mother's hospital room. The patient file or birth certificate or whatever he looked at read "Da-a." Puzzled with the logistics of pronunciation, he guessed the name sounded something like "Duh" or "Day uh" or "Day." I mean, what would you guess? He proceeded into the hospital room and said, "Congratulations on your daughter, Da-a!" However, the new mother quickly correctly him, filling him in that the dash wasn't silent and her daughter's name was "Duh dash uh." The baby was totally caucasion too, so it's not like she even has ethnic coolness to pull off a name like that. Poor thing. A name: one of the first blessings or cursingings you can give your poor, defenseless offspring.

The Meet Market

The Meet Market. After last night, I've decided to go vegetarian. Let me clarify: I'm officially staying away from those places disguised as innocent fun, but meticulously designed to result in boy-girl social interactions geared towards dating.

I looove dancing. So, country swing dancing sounded perfect....but I was sorely deceived. I refuse to ever again get dressed up to stand in a line of females while our male counterparts gaze up and down the line looking for one of us that suits his fancy. It was really, truly like the supermarket meat department...disgusting and all. And, every one of us chicas was left wondering if we were being looked at as a sirloin steak, chuck roast, or low-grade hot dog.

The Bomb in My Fridge

When I'm hott, I'm HOOOTTT. Well, not really...but I've gotten into the worst habit of bloggin' a bunch at one time instead of spreadin' the love out during each month.

Let me tell you all about my recent thoughts on "EXPIRATION DATES"

So, as I was casually sipping my pristine clean, sublimely refreshing beverage (often referred to as water) from a plastic bottle, I realized something I had never noticed before---AN EXPIRATION DATE. Now, I know I'm not the fountain of all knowledge (more like a water filled pot hole that you would find in the Dollar Store parking lot) but honestly...it blew my mind...why exactly does my bottle of water NEED an expiration date?

On the other hand, I have a ticking time bomb currently in my fridge. I bought a half gallon of milk right before Thanksgiving break so I could still enjoy my Cinnamon Toast Crunch (or at least the off brand of that stellar cereal that comes in the big bag instead of a colorfully decorated box which often includes a toy of some sort because as I've mentioned before I'm cheap like that). Yesterday, as I went to eat a bowl of that cinnamony complete and utter goodness, I abruptly stood petrified as I took note that the milk's death date. Yes, there is indeed no such thing as a jug of milk's "expiration date," but there is an anticipated "death date" when the cow juice abruptly turns unsalvageable and horribly stinky (which in my book qualifies as a death date because it is far worse a scenario than when other normal foods expire).

Anyway, I was suddenly forced with a sticky (or possibly stinky or chunky which would make me pukey) delimma as to whether I would whiff the milk in hopes that is was still consumable. Craving those cinnamon and sugar swirls, I sucked it up and did. Fortunately, all was swell and I was able to use it....but today is DECEMBER 2nd!!! Is my milk okay still? I'm afraid....very afraid...which brings me to my point. There should be at least SEVERAL dates on each jug of milk:

1st: The date that specifies up until when your milk is 100% garunteed to be fresh and yummy
2nd: The date that specifies up until when your milk is most likely still in superb condition
3rd: The sketchy date that specifies when the milk is probably on the verge of going bad
4th: The anticipated death date (this is the one currently on our jugs today but is completely insufficient as we know it)
5th: The past the point of no return date which specifies when you should plug your nose and discard immediately

Am I right, or am I RIGHT? That's what I thought :)

H---E---Double Hockey Sticks

Heaven forbid....If I wake up one day and find myself dead....and there is NOT a Krispy Kreme store in sight....I KNOW I will have ended up in hell. There are just some things in the world that are so heavenly that if for some reason they weren't included in the world to come, I think it would be a pretty good indication that I had arrived in that infamously miserable place where the weather is always uncomfortably warm (eh em...more like SCORCHING).

Other things not included in H---E---Double Hockey Sticks:

1. Chocolate cake
2. Puppies
3. Tweezers

Never Again

I JUST RAN A RED LIGHT!!!! I've NEVER done that before!!! I never ever never ever ever never ever want to do that again! EVER! I mean it! Seriously, I MEAN IT!!!! It involved honking and speeding and sheer embarrassment. It wasn't a full blown run a red light sort of a deal, it was more of a be retarded and casually (yet with much momentum) right turn through one. If I was given the brains of a blond (no offense), why couldn't a be given at least the decency of the pretty golden locks?! Uggg...is this fair?! I submit that it is not.

Can I just officially dub myself a "woman driver"? Now, this may sound sexist...probably because it is...but I'm okay with that. I'm not a "bad" driver because I've never gotten in an accident, been pulled over, or harmed anything while operating an automobile (unless you count the vast many speckles and splats that collected on my windshield driving from home to school....but that's besides the point)....in fact I'd go so far as to say I'm a fairly "good" driver. If you're about to argue that one, "good" and "bad" are comparative terms and let's face it do I really need to write a blog about the UTAH DRIVERS in our midst to prove my point of what "bad" driving is? That's what I thought. ANYWAY... I'm not an elderly type of driver because I can see and don't drive unusually slowly. I'm not a teen driver 'cause I know what I'm doing and am well acquainted with the laws. I'm not a drunk driverSo, yes, I'm a "woman driver."

WOMAN DRIVER (noun): a person who often gets directions and locations mixed up who is well acquainted with stopping at gas stations and 7-11's for added directional assistance who may seem timid in certain driving circumstances but who is generally a good driver....most of the time :) aka me

Anyway, looking back on the horrific experience (now almost a whole half hour later....it's amazing how hindsight is always 20/2o, huh?), I'm a little disappointed. I was unintentionally being reckless and livin' on the edge while being bold and daring at the same time....for goodness sake....I even broke the law!!!....but I just got a sick feeling in the pit of my tummy...but no thrill or chill of the impending danger. Isn't that why people sky dive, bungee jump, and rob banks? Huh...aww well.

How Do You Pick Your Fast Food?

How do you pick your fast food? I'll tell you how I pick mine.

1. Decide what you're cravin' (cravin=Taco Bell)
2. Head to Taco Bell
3. Pull up to the drive-thru and look at the menu (menu= value menu ONLY)
4. Get so absorbed in that bountiful menu of value that you slowly creep by the speaker box thing
5. Panic once you realize you cannot go forwards or backwards since it's 11:30 Saturday night and everyone in Utah is trying to get greasy food before 12am strikes, signaling the beginning of the sabbath (everyone in Utah=you sandwiched between umpteen cars)
6. Provide some local entertainment (entertainment= speeding past the drive-thru window leaving the poor Taco Bell youth sticking his head out the window gawking at your taillights)
7. This is the time that full embarrassment sinks in.
8. Raise your eyes to the beautiful, glowing arches across the street, beckoning you away from their competition
9. You go
10. You order
11. You pay
12. You're outta there

And that's how I pick my fast food. True story.

Dreaming of Obama

I NEVER DREAM. And, don't give me that, "Of course you dream, darlin'. Everyone does. YOU just don't remember them." Really, I don't. By the time I finally lay my head on that pillow...WHAM...I'm out cold for the next 7 hours (if I go to bed on time) without enough energy to dream. Until two days ago....

I dreamed of HIM. I could think of plenty of people I'd rather dream of on such a momentous occasion as this. But no....good ol' Barack crept his way out of the headlines and into MY head. Now, I really don't have much against the dude...but really...who wants to dream about him? Not me. No thank you. And no, it actually wasn't a nightmare. Sorry to disappoint.

I was at some kind of expo where I was working with Mr. Obama at his booth. I actually got to have some real conversation with him, but surprisingly we didn't discuss politics (but then again, it was my dream so perhaps I did really have some control over the situation). I don't remember what we talked about, but I do remember thinking the following:

1. He does look better in real life
2. He's much nicer and less obnoxious than the impression I got from the TV...sincere, kind, down-to-earth
3. He was dangerously charismatic to the point I still didn't completely trust the fella

Did this "vision" sway my vote you may wonder? Heck no. I remember leaving the expo thinking to myself, "That was a pleasant experience. What a good man. Too bad I STILL don't like his platform. Go McCain!" :P

*No offense to Obama voters :)

Smile :)

Hey there :) I recently stumbled upon the following. I think you'll like it very much :) :) :) (Courtesy of http://www.butlerwebs.com/jokes/)

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES
Kids are asked questions about marriage...and, OH! how they answered!!

How do you decide who to marry?

• "You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming." Alan, age 10

• "No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with." Kirsten, age 10

What is the right age to get married?

• "Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then." Camille, age 10

• "No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married." Freddie, age 6

How can a stranger tell if two people are married?

• "Married people usually look happy to talk to other people." Eddie, age 6

• "You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids." Derrick, age 8

What do you think your Mom and Dad have in common?

• "Both don't want no more kids." Lori, age 8

What do most people do on a date?

• "Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough." Lynnette, age 8

• "On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date." Martin, age 10

What would you do on a first date that was turning sour?

• "I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns." Craig, age 9

When is it OK to kiss someone?

• "When they're rich." Pam, age 7

• "The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that." Curt, age 7

• "The rule goes like this: if you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do". Howard, age 8

Is it better to be single or married?

• "It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them." Anita, age 9

• "Single is better, for the simple reason that I wouldn't want to change no diapers. Of course, if I did get married, I'd just phone my mother and have her come over for some coffee and diaper changing." Kirsten, age 10

How would the world be different if people didn't get married?

• "There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?" Kelvin, age 8

• "You can be sure of one thing - the boys would come chasing after us just the same as they do now." Roberta, age 7

How would you make a marriage work?

• "Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck." Ricky, age 10

And here's some other pretty good stuff I must say...

One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her small boy into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?"
The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. "I can't, dear," she said. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room."
A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice: "The big sissy."

After putting her children to bed, a mother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin.
At last she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings.
As she left the room, she heard her three-year-old say with a trembling voice, "Who was that?"

An acquaintance of mine who is a physician told this story about her then four-year-old daughter. On the way to preschool, the doctor had left her stethoscope on the car seat, and her little girl picked it up and began playing with it. Be still, my heart, thought my friend, my daughter wants to follow in my footsteps!
Then the child spoke into the instrument: "Welcome to McDonald's. May I take your order?"

A new neighbor asked the little girl next door if she had any brothers and sisters. She replied, "No, I'm the lonely child."

The child was a typical four-year-old girl -- cute, inquisitive, bright as a new penny. When she expressed difficulty in grasping the concept of marriage, her father decided to pull out his wedding photo album, thinking visual images would help. One page after another, he pointed out the bride arriving at the church, the entrance, the wedding ceremony, the recessional, the reception, etc.
"Now do you understand?" he asked.
"I think so," she said, "is that when mommy came to work for us?"

A little boy opened the big and old family Bible with fascination, and looked at the old pages as he turned them. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible, and he picked it up and looked at it closely. It was an old leaf from a tree that had been pressed in between the pages.
"Momma, look what I found!" the boy called out.
"What have you got there, dear?" his mother asked.
With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered: "I think it's Adam's suit!"

A Sunday school teacher asked her little children, as they were on the way to church service, "And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?"
One bright little girl replied, "Because people are sleeping."

My Life is Awkward

My life is just so awkward. Awkwardness is just a talent that I can't get rid of. It follows me around like a lost 'lil puppy dog lookin' for a home or something. It especially rears it's ugly head (or cute, adorable face in the metaphor of the helpless hound) in my dating life...or lack there off....but I feel like it's a glass half full kind of day, so I'll go with "dating life" instead of the more realistic "lack thereof". ANYWAY, I scored THREE this weekend....dates that is. Actually, "scored" isn't really the right word either if I'm going to be completely honest. It's more like three boys actually had enough pity to attempt to find pleasure in my company all in the same weekend. That never happens. This is a KayEmKay first....and most definitely a last...so why not relish this in a blog, eh? Just kidding...but seriously....NEVER HAPPENS. I promise you that.

So, Friday night actually went without I hitch that I was aware of. This is surprising 'cause it was a true-blue-through-and-through blind date. Never had met the chap until he rang my doorbell. So...since it didn't really have a smidge of awkwardness, let's fast forward to Saturday night....

Saturday night. We're in his basement on a group date playin' Apples to Apples on the floor. All is going well so far. All of the sudden my bum is enveloped in this tingly, cold sensation. At first I think the good ol' rump has just fallen asleep, but I'm surprised 'cause it felt weird and came on so sudden. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Somehow someone had jostled the loose carpet and knocked over my glass full of ice cold water. It's all over the floor and soakin' my jeans. He doesn't bother much to get towel to sop up the water on the carpet since it's the unfinished basement. I'm too embarrassed to ask for something to wipe up my drippin' jeans that just happens to be soaked in the heiny region. Can I say there is nothing more uncomfortable in this world than soggy underwear. TMI? One word: deal :). A minute later we move to his leather (or maybe it was pleather? Or is that just a tacky and impractical material that was used for a popular style of girls pants flaunted in the '90s?) couch to watch a movie. I sit down. This is soon followed by the realization that I won't be able get up without shame and embarrassment. If I get up he's going to see water residue on the couch and think I peed my pants. If I get up and specifically tell him that I didn't pee my pants, he's going to think I'm covering for actually peeing my pants. It's a lose/lose situation. And even if somehow I manage to hide all this and get in the car for him to drive me home, he's going to think I peed my pants in his car when I get out to walk to my door. Folks, this is not good. AWKWARD....yes...very AWKWARD.

Fast forwarding to Sunday evening....So the date actually went well. So, I should have gone home then 'cause it's the "after date" that became the problem....or not really the problem 'cause it was fun...but more the catalyse that sparked an awkward moment. All the sudden (Let's call him Bob for sake of confidentiality) I loudly exclaimed, "BOB! HAVE YOU REALIZED WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE YET???!!!" Who says that to people?! Apparently, I do. Sigh. All his roommates suddenly stopped what they were doing and stared with jaws dropped and eyes wide. No one was breathing. Finally, Bob just started to laugh. Thank you Bob. Really, thank you. That was the kindest thing you could have done. But let me clarify, what I said (once again) was not what I meant. I said that exclamation with the intent of finding out if Bob was extremely passionate about a career path or not so that I could start to try to persuade him (in a semi-joking way) to take up my field of study ('cause I love it so much and want at least one convert before I graduate) if he wasn't madly passionate about some future job. However, obviously that is not how it came out in the end.....and I don't think anyone owns a shovel big enough to have dug me out of THAT hole.

Anyway, tomorrow the weekend begins. Even though I certainly won't have three dates to deal with, I'm mentally bracing myself for that wandering puppy.

Less of a Woman

I DON'T understand! So...I used to be a tomboy back in the day and I guess some of those tendencies just never leave, even after being dormant for years upon years. But there are several things I just don't understand.....comprehend....or slightly fathom. For example:

SALADS. What is up with salads? I have so many girlfriends that think they are like the bomb-biggidy off-the-heezy-fo-cheezy-fo sho straightup most stellar food on the planet. Point in case: I went to Zupas (a specialty soup, salad, sandwich place that always serves a chocolate dipped strawberry with every order) with some chickas from school for lunch. I normally order something "hardy" 'cause that's the way I roll but decided to take the very enthusiastic suggestion of the Nuts for Berries salad. I ordered the half size 'cause....quite frankly....I'm cheap. You know what? It was absolutely bliss. It consisted of romaine lettuce with a sweet vinaigrette topped with fresh mixed berries and a tantalizing, (wow, that's a good word. haha) crunchy cinnamon & sugar roasted almonds medley. Dessert in a salad was really what it was. I highly recommend it....for dessert though...or a side.....not a main course if you are a real person that actually eats. After we ate, (most of these ladies had ordered a half salad and soup or a sandwich and soup) all the girls were saying, "Dang, I am so overly full. I normally just order that half salad and it's the perfect amount." So...me being the only half salad person at the table was then socially obligated to say, "Yeah...good thing I ordered this. I'm pleasantly full." What was I really thinking? Let's see...it went something like " ARE YOU FRIGGIN KIDDING ME? I'M STARVING!!! I'M USED TO THE SALAD BEING THE ENTICING PROMISE THAT A STEAK IS ON THE WAY. THIS IS RABBIT FOOD. NO WONDER YOU ALL ARE TWIGS. ANYONE GOT A CANDY BAR?....." Yup, those were my thoughts at that moment in time, but you would have never known it until I actually did buy that candy bar (an Almond Joy to be exact) a half an hour later. hehe. Seriously though, this is not meant to be a blog critical of salad eaters. I like salad too. It's just normally on the side of my plate...not in the center of it. And, I really don't eat more than most girls....just what I eat has something to it... if ya know what I mean. So yeah...all love and no hate. I'm just in "awww" of what others can survive off of for extended periods of time.

You want me to WHAT?!

I just realized my temporary job ends this week, so I've started the painstaking hunt for new employment. So far, the ad that's made me laugh the most is:

Sell 'No Soliciting' Stickers - - Door To Door

Yup. For serious. This is indeed real. Really. Truly. Believe. Ya know ya want to. For your further enjoyment here's the description...see I told ya it's legit:

This is for anyone that would like to make some extra cash in their free time like after class or work or whatever. I have tons of 'No Soliciting' stickers that I sell door to door for $5 a piece and I do pretty well. Im basically offering students or whoever some stickers that they can go sell in their own to make some extra money. You don't have to buy the stickers or anything ill just give them to you but I require $1.50 from every sale you make. So you will get $3.50 every sticker you sell. Just so you know it's really easy and you will sell a lot even if you're not very good. I sold 16 in 2 hours one day.

Let me know if you would like to give it a try and see how much you can make. you can just start with a small amount like 20 stickers if you want.

Call me please if you're interested. Devin 801-995-0877

It's on the wonderful world of Craigslist. Cheers to the unemployed! :)

Sparkly Boys

Can I just dedicate a blog to "sparkly boys" aka boys that sparkle? :) Yes...I'm going to act like I'm 13 years old once again for an entire blog....but I just can't help myself :). I am just so grateful for sparkly boys. They make me happy :) Sadly, there are quite a few out there in this big world, but I think there could be even more if they'd just realize their amazing potential. So what exactly is a sparkly boy?

Sparkly boys:

1. are nice people to everyone and uplifting to be around
2. aren't afraid to be happy about life and smile...though yes...excessive smiling can be weird and that's not what I mean
3. actually go to church activities
4. are going somewhere in life. they're either are workin' hard in school or work.
5. never make you uncomfortable. they respect you
6. are careful of the movies and TV shows they watch
7. keep themselves in holy places
8. honor their priesthood
9. are good home teachers
10. are basically those all-around good guys that just seem to glow :)

Keep on sparkling :) PS---white shirts and ties and suits=HOTTTT!....okay.....I'll go back to my regular 20 year old self now......

The Verbal Filter

Is what you say in your head often the rough draft version of the final copy you utter into actual words? Well, I'd like to say what I normally think is actually suitable for real-life conversation...but let's face it...we all use a verbal filter every now and then to make things sound PC, polite, or more understandable. Unfortunately, I recently discovered my verbal filter goes to bed as soon as I'm tired. This is not good. Not good at all.

For example, last night we had a stellar ward talent show for FHE. I was so excited to be there....honestly....truly....sincerely :). However, when our bright and cheery MC happily announced that a whopping 15 acts were taking part in the show as it got started, I accidentally blurted out, "It's a good thing I brought my book!" to my roommate. Though, it was one of those types of blurts where as soon as you get the words out you realize it was probably audible to all those surrounding you.....and the worst part is it wasn't even what you really meant....just came out wrong, ya know? Anyway, I was exhausted, so sadly the filter was definitely involuntarily turned off.

Moral of the story: If you really want to know if you look fat in them jeans, ask me when my eyelids are droopy ;)