Quote of the Day

"As long as his shoulders are wider than my hips....."

Quote of the Day

"...when a man and a woman fall in love they decide that they want to have a baby, then they send a letter to the baby headmaster requesting him to release a baby into their care, the headmaster deliberates and chooses a candidate baby that matches the needs of the man and woman and calls a stork and has it deliver the baby to the man and woman. Then there are other times that orders get mixed up and a baby gets delivered to the man and woman without them requesting it..."

Quotes of the Day

"I'm lacking a burrito." - Said gravely by a boy picking up his food at Taco Bell

"...Last night my pinky got dipped into my burning hot scensy while I was trying to fall asleep. It was all sorts of surprise and awful." - Nicole

This Is Halloween.. this is halloween....

So, I was procrastinating cleaning my room and thought to myself, "self... you should look for costume ideas for halloween." So there I was, just browsin away at pictures of costumes and I see THIS:

Oh the horror. Tami. I'm Sorry. That probably ruined your life. Here... replace it in your brain with this image.

That is all. As you were.

Move Over, Swine Flu...

We have a far more dangerous and damaging epidemic on our hands amongst the male students at BYU. It is as vile and viral as they come. And yet, no one seems to be as concerned about it as I am. What is this mystery plague infecting our young men, you ask? Athlete's foot? Giardia? Leprosy? No. Worse:

MUSTACHES.

Dirty, nasty, stringly, fluffy, crumby, mustaches. "Moustaches." Cookie dusters. Soup strainers. Misplaced eyebrows. Stalker 'staches. Face fungus.

Why? WHYYYYYY?

This is my theory: BYU men are not allowed to grow beards. It's against the dress and grooming standards of the honor code. Therefore, they feel that mustaches are an appropriate outlet for expressing their manly capabilities to grow facial hair. They are sorely mistaken.

Mustaches make me want to hurl. And no. They don't look good on anyone. And I am not typically a hater of facial hair.

For example: Take an extremely good looking man. Add the following:

A goatee? Fine.

Sideburns? Excellent.

Manly scruffiness? Superb.

But a mustache?

Woof.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

You have made a beautiful man into an atrocity. Adding a weird patch of lip hair to a handsome face (or ANY face, for that matter) is a recipe for disaster. Lets take a look at the famous evil men in history who have rocked a mustache, shall we?

Hitler.

Sadam Hussein.

Captain Hook.

And basically, every sex offender that ever lived.

Need I go any further? I think not. Please, be responsible. Grow some sideburns. Forget to shave for a couple days. But I beg of you.... do not, under any circumstance, grow a mustache. The consequences are always severe.

Attention Deficit Disorder

I am sending murder vibes to everyone who is yackety yacking in the library right now. I'm in my favorite place to study, but I can't focus because it sounds like feeding time on monkey island. Once upon a time, the middle section of the main floor of the HBLL was a quiet, calm, lovely place to fill my brain with knowledge. NOW... it is covered with these signs:



And filled with chatty Cathys.

HATE HATE DOUBLE HATE. LOOOOOOOOATHE ENTIRELY.

I wish that sign said.... "No BULL SHHHH! Zone"

This is not doing anything to boost my mood, which could use some substantial boosting considering the earlier events of today. Let us start from the very begining.

I was 10 minutes late to my favorite class this morning, and really, really sweaty after walking up the stairs and ramp south of campus. I had to scoot my sweaty self into one of the only open seats in the front row. The girl next to me had total poo breath and I wanted to pass away every time she moved. I really hope it was her breath...

After class I started to make my way from campus up to the Morris center for work, which is about a 10 minute walk. Its usually not too bad, but the skirt I was wearing insisted on scrunching and sliding northward whilst swirling around so that the zipper was all skiwampus and not in the center where it was supposed to be. I literally had to hold it in place all the way to the office. I probably looked like I was trying not to poo my pants. I was relieved to be able to sit down at work and relax.


Until. UNTILLLLLL.....


I felt like I wanted some chocolate milk. I love chocolate milk. It is delectable. We have it in our vending machine in the break room, and I was really excited to drink it. I bought some and as I made my way back to my desk I proceeded to shake it up. I hadn't even opened it yet, and out of nowhere the cap flew off and I sloshed chocolatey goodness all up all over myself as I sat down. It was in my hair. All over my desk. All over my face. All over my neck and down my shirt. All over my arms. All over the outside of my shirt. All over my work phone. All over my backpack. All over the cubicle. In my eyes. I looked like a chocolate swamp thing.

Trying not to draw any attention to myself, I got up and walked briskly to the bathroom, got some paper towels, dried my face off, and hurried back to my desk to clean it off before my computer shorted out from being covered with liquid chocolate.

I sopped up as much of the chocolate puddle on my desk as I could before anyone could see, but hours later I still had tell tale brown splotches all over myself. Like unto this one on my shoulder:

I wish the lighting in this picture were better so that you could see how much dried chocolate milk I had down the right side of my face and hair. (Your Left) It really doesn't do justice to my chocolatey dampness at all. Well, I mean, my clothes stayed wet but my hair definitely dried into a crunchy chocolate shell.

I totally just lost my train of thought. Oh yes. So after my milky mishap I sat in wet milky clothes for the rest of my shift. It was awesome. And when I say awesome, I mean that I smelled like a rotten fudgesicle.

I am in no mood for any late night library shenanigans. If the freshies behind me do not shut their yaps in a about 5 seconds, I am going to LOSE MY FREAKING MIND. Like Andy Bernard.

Also, I just found some more chocolate in my hair.

I know why they call it a fly...

They call it a fly because my pants have an unwavering tendency to FLY open when I walk. So, I had to tape them closed with scotch tape once I got to work. Not all my pants, just one pair of work pants. It sounds a little bit like I'm wearing a diapy when I move. In these days of health following a skinny summer, I have become somewhat more substantial in the area of my bodacious hips. I'm still fly, but my fly likes to fly.

Also, I saw this guy on campus and I had to take a picture of him....


Your eyes do not deceive you. He is wearing under armor, basketball shorts, khaki shorts, dress shoes, dress socks, and a backward winter coat. It was not even cold, and he is not allergic to the sun.

Who wants to go grocery shopping?

Quote of the Day

"He is triple-dog dead to me."

-Me.


I just thought it was clever, okay?

I have overactive tear ducts.

Laughing hard makes me cry.

Church makes me cry.

Realizing how blessed I am makes me cry.

Being really happy makes me cry.

Going to the temple makes me cry.

Cute movies make me cry.

Cute songs make me cry.

Even silly boys make me cry.

...

Someone plug my eyes already.

Quote of the Day

While watching Mo-Tab during conference:

"oooh lets look for Sister [_____] . . . she has new teeth"