Explain Your Miracles

Dear Ms. Jillian Michaels,

You are one shady and mystical beezy. Your powers astound me. Riddle me this: How is it possible that I now actually crave and enjoy vegetables? EH? And how on earth do you will me to not only endure, but vigorously participate in your merciless workouts from beginning to end? Without stopping. Sure, toward the end there I had to imagine that I was battling Satan for my soul, the conditions being that if I gave up working out, I would be sent to hell. But still. I finished. And FURTHERMORE. How is it physically possible for me to still be sweating 20 minutes AFTER I get out of a cool shower? Hmmmmm?

Ya. You think about that. I want answers.

Love,

Me

P.S. Thank you for my shapely legs and ever shrinking arm fat... you wicked sorceress of cardio.

Jillian Michaels is the boss of me.

I just wrote a huge blog post. And then it mysteriously deleted itself. And I'm burning mad. But whatever. Here's the point of the blog post:

I'm greatful for my body.

I decided I should take better care of it.

I started making myself exercise and I like it.

I eat as much and as often as I like.

and I have lost 6 pounds in 10 days.

And Jillian Michaels is the boss of me.

The End.

You know how I know I've gone crazy?

Let me count the ways.....

1. I haven't posted a really awesome blog in FOREVER. And nothing has annoyed me enough lately to deem that it "must go".

2. I have at least B's in (all?) my classes.

3. I've been eating more fruits and vegetables than anything else for the last 2 weeks. And I have loved it. WTFreak.

4. I went running tonight. It was 30 degrees outside.

5. Jillian Michaels is the boss of me.

6. I did a legit headstand and "bridge" for the first time since oh I don't know... Mrs. Gentry's dance class circa the mid 90's?

7. I went out on a (gasp) awesome date and didn't even blog about it. DIDN'T EVEN BLOG ABOUT ITTTTTT.

8. Chopped off all my hair.

9. Dropped my curling iron in the toilet. While it was on.

10. Bought 20 dollars worth of socks at Ross. And 20 dollars goes a long way at that joint....

11. The boss ladies gave me a significant raise last week... as in, double the amount that the maximun is supposed to be. Just because they think I'm the bomb.com employee. What?

12. I took skunky through the car wash today. For some reason it didn't occur to me that Skunky is about as water resistant as a sea sponge. I got sprayed. Oh did I ever get sprayed.

13. My closet is organized.

14. My legs have stayed consistently shaved for well over a month.

15. I only have 19.5 more credits to go until BYU will have to give me a degree. Muahhahahahha!

WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME????

IS THIS REAL LIFE?

Quote (Conversation?) of the Day

Me: I like green apples.

Boy: You WOULD like green apples.

Me: Why?

Boy: It matches your personality.

Me: ..... Because I'm sour and bitter?

Boy: ..... (a smile and a shrug) You're kind of intimidating .....

Me: Well. I am sassy.

Boy: Ya, not so much sour and bitter. Green apples are sassy. You're a sassy green apple.

Me: Ya. That makes sense.

The Bagel Miracle of 2010

Yesterday, something amazing happened, and I'd like to share it with you.

Sometimes I forget to eat before leaving for work at 2. So by the time I get off work at 6, I am a rabid and ravenous wolf.

Luckily, we have a vending machine at work filled with mostly crappy-for-you food, but they are also sometimes stocked with yummy bagels.

Back to the miracle. Having again forgotten to eat before leaving for work, I decided I wanted a bagel from the vending machine. The problem was, the next bagel in the slot was all jammed and stuck. It would be easily solvable, I would just have to keep trying to buy it until the little springs decided to release it into my custody. So I bought one. The springs moved. But no bagel fell.

The vending machine has a sensor, so if nothing falls, it doesn't charge you. Having not paid for my phantom bagel, I decided to try again. By this time, the bagel to be mine was wedged up against another bagel. I tried purchasing the bagel again. As I waited with rapt attention, I perceived that BOTH bagels were ever-so-slowly inching over the edge of the shelf, toward their doom as my lunch. It took a few minutes and a few booty bumps, but they eventually fell. Now, since those delicious bagels took their sweet time before succumbing to gravity, the sensor on the machine prematurely determined that no bagels had been acquired. I got two bagels for FREE.

BUT WAIT.

That's not the end of the story. Since the machine was telling me I still hadn't purchased anything, I decided to buy a chocolate milk. I selected the tasty beverage. As I was reaching into the vending machine to collect my spoils, that blessed machine dropped a gold dollar and a quarter into the coin return.

I like to think that was the vending machine's way of apologizing in behalf of all other vending machines that had so dishonorably stolen my money in the past. Dearest vending machines, I accept your apology. Thank you for paying me to eat lunch. Also, gold dollars make me feel like a pirate.

And so, I officially declare November 12th as Bagel Day. I will be celebrating it annually from now on.

That is all.

P.S. I gave one of the bagels to my friend who had witnessed the whole ordeal. The end.

Vince Lombardi and Bishop Stokes.

There is a quote by Vince Lombardi that my Bishop loves to share with our BYU singles ward. He paraphrases it a little bit, and changes a couple words, but it ends up coming out a little something like this:

"We should always strive for perfection, knowing full well we will never achieve it. But we will relentlessly pursue it, because in the process we will achieve excellence. I am not remotely interested in just being good."

I just like it.

Flu shot Shmoo shot. (So many parentheses)

I got a flu shot. And I liked it.

MOSTLY because I got to exchange seasonal vaccination pleasantries with my favorite pharmacy tech at Walgreens. His name is Mark. And he is dreaammmmmyyy. But lets start at the beginning

...

I'm in line at the pharmacy... and I notice that Dreamboat Cutie-McCuterson happens to be working. I pretty much always notice when he is working. I pretty much always hope he is working. I think he has only ever helped me with a prescription one time.. a couple months ago... (and he probably thinks I am a scarlet woman because I may or may not have been filling my birth control) but even if he isn't the one helping me... he is always dreamy. And he always smiles at me.

Anyway. By some wonderful stroke of luck, he was the next available tech and I just happened to need a flu shot. Our conversation went like this:

DCMC (Dreamboat Cutie-McCuterson): Hi can I help you?

Me: Ya. Are you still offering flu shots? (Said in the most pleasant and charming way possible, seeing as how we were talking about someone stabbing me with a small piece of tubular metal and forcing germs into my body.)

DCMC: Yep.If you just want to go take a seat I'll bring out some paperwork and we'll get you all set up. (Dreamy smile).

Me: Thanks. (With a smile).

DCMC: Alright go ahead and fill out the first 9 questions and then sign and date the bottom. (But he was probably wanting to say "you are the most beautiful virus-prone girl I have ever seen. Fill this out. And then I'd like to date you."

Me: Thanks. (smile again.)

...

I turn in my paper work, and tell him I had to get a tetanus shot a few weeks earlier and wondered if it would still be okay.

...

DCMC: I'll ask the pharmacist. But you should be fine.

...

Waiting.

...

DCMC: Booth? (What he really wanted to say was "Ms. Booth, you have a beautiful name. Could you come over to the counter please?")

Me: Ya?

DCMC: I've got some bad news. We're all out of syringes.

Me: Nooooo! (Seriously. I said that.)

DMCC: So you can either head to the Walgreens in south Orem, and they can take care of your shot, or you can come back at 2:00 when we get a new batch.

Me: Just use an old one. (No laughs had. Tough crowd, tough crowd).

Pharmacist Man: Oh... there's some new syringes right here! Only two left.

DCMC: Just for you.

Me: Wonderful.

DCMC: Alright go ahead and take a seat and the pharmacist will bring you back when he's ready. (Dreamy smile.)

And that was the end of the conversation. It's quite obvious that he is in love with me.

Also... the flu shot didn't even hurt. And I didn't even barf or cry! (Okay I turned into a limp naseous noodle for a minute and wanted to hurl, but I didn't. )

Week

In the last seven days, I may or may not have:



1. Cried 4-5 times. I'm not sure. I lost count.

2. Been called a rockstar by the boss. Multiple times.

3. Worn opaque tights for the first time since elementary school.

4. Kept my room so fresh and so clean. According to Mama Booth, I can't get married until I can keep my room clean. But its cleannnnn. So someone should come marry me.

5. Locked my keys in my truck. In the ignition. In a blizzard. I retrieved them by crawling into the bed of the truck (in a skirt) and punching out the little plexiglass window with my bare hand. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

6. Forgotten to brush my teeth.

7. Gotten lost in the no-mans-land between provo and orem. I have seen the underbelly of this town, and it is dark.

8. Wikipedia-ed tetanus, diphtheria and pertussis.

9. Dropped out of my dinner group because we can't even go ONE meal without the boys talking about crotches. Or boobs.

10. Wanted to blog almost every single day but never had time.

11. Been browsing for a new phone because mine has seizures and creates a plaid-like pattern of seizure bars across the screen every now and then.

12. Curled my hair successfully at least 3 times.

13. Went to the corn maze and Halloween festivities at Thanksgiving point and LOVED MY LIFE.

14. Saw a giant old man in a hospital gown doing laps around the cardiac unit. Giant.

15. Decided what I might be for Halloween. (Antoine Dodson?)

16. Left my headlights on for 5 hours while I was at work.

17. Showered far less than 7 times.

18. Purchased 2 bathing suits online from Jcrew for 24 dollars. Including shipping.

And oh so much more.

I am incredible.

Quote of the Day

"Unless you are absolutely certain you are THE LAST person in the building, don't pass gas in the elevator. Because guess what? I might be getting in after you, and just because you leave, doesn't mean you take your old lady toot with you."

-From this post, by my beloved Brittany

My Happy Thought for the Day

Please note:

1. Her amazingly long and luscious curly 80's mullet.

2. The old man who gives the thumbs up.

3. The back up dancer wearing a bandana like a fanny pack.

4. The way MJ points his toe when he jumps into the car.

What are your favorite things about this video? I could go on and on.

Pleasant Surprise

Dear Jock Who I Usually Would Have Pinned As A Tool,

I don't know what possessed you to walk around campus with your sweats tucked into your socks, but I support your cause.

Also, thank you for doing that little dance.

Will you marry me? I'm serious. I like your style.


Love, Kristin

IT'S OCTOBER.

October is my favorite season. Hands down. This is why:

Lortab Dreams

The other night I had a dream that I was being chased through a building by someone bad. I don't know who exactly it was that was chasing me, but it wasn't really a nightmare, because I was winning. Every time I turned a corner into a seemingly dead end, there would be a random escape route. Like a door. Or a staircase. Or an air duct. Or a trap door. Or a pole to slide down. Or a ladder to climb. Or a pipe to crawl through. Seriously. One of the trippiest and enjoyable dreams of all time.

THEN SUDDENLY

I was at a summer camp with my old roommate Michelle, and we were really concerned about being able to shave our legs before we went to the camp cafeteria for lunch. Once we were on our way to eat, in the distance I could see a Moose. Pushing a lawn mower with its nose. Just you know, mowing the woods.

AND THEN

I was at home. And for some reason, a baby cougar and baby wolf kept getting into our house to play with our dog Lady. Which was distressing, because there was a giant scary bear outside skiing down the mountain who really wanted to be reunited with the baby animals. So I took a picture of the baby cougar. But the baby cougar was actually a baby human, dressed in a baby cougar costume. It never actually looked like a baby cougar.

AND THEN

It was suddenly a year later, and my cousin Alex and his wife Kristine had adopted the cougar baby. But the baby hadn't aged. (Mysterious.)

And then I woke up. And I remember thinking to myself, "I really need to blog about that dream. Mostly just the part about the moose mowing the lawn in the woods."

But aren't you glad I included all those other parts?

I blame my vivid dream on the fact that I have been taking lortab to get to sleep. So that I don't wake up on top of my arm in the middle of the night and say a painful curse word.

The Perils of Do-It-Yourself

This post is going to be a little embarrassing. But, I believe in full disclosure, so here is the unabridged version of what exactly happened on Saturday, September 25th 2010. Which resulted in this:

Warning: Some of this is gross.

3:30 PM: All roommates and associates of mine leave the immediate area. Some went to the football game, some went to the Relief Society broadcast, some just felt like being unavailable, etc.

4:15 PM: I decided it would be a good idea to do some laundry, wash some dishes, and possibly wax my eyebrows. I've been doing that myself for a few years, and had never yet had a bad experience.

4:33 PM: With laundry in the washer and wax in the microwave for 1:00 minute, I began doing some dishes.

4:34 PM: Microwave beeps. But the wax was still solid. So I put it back in for 1 more minute.

4:35 PM: Microwave beeps again. Apparently, the wax went from being a complete solid to wicked hot in 1 minute. I took the wax out of the microwave. My hands were wet from doing dishes. The container slipped out of my hands, and hot lava wax from hades spilled all over my arm.

4:35 PM: I instantly wisper-screamed "OUCH ..... SH!&" and looked at my arm in disbelief. The pain was intense. I don't know how else to describe it except to say that it was shocking. I then put my arm under some cold water. Please note that I had just been doing dishes, so I had to wait a few eternal seconds for the water to cool down.

Note: This is where it gets gross. Also, there is a picture of my burned arm a little further down. Don't say I didn't warn you.

4:36 PM: I began trying to peel as much wax off my burned skin as quickly and gently as I could.

4:37 PM: I peeled some skin off my arm on accident.

4:38 PM: I looked at what I just did, and refrained from barfing.

4:39 - 4:45 PM: I thought a little bit about my situation while I had my arm under the cold water, and called the emergency room to find out if I needed to come in. Of course, the emergency room recording says that they can't give medical advice over the phone. So I decided to use the immense knowlegde-base known as Google to find out what the crap I was supposed to do.

4:50 PM: According to a burn website I was directed to, I had some second degree burns, and needed to hold my arm under cool water for at least 20 minutes. So I went back to the sink and cooled my arm off some more.

5:00 PM: I returned to the interwebs to find out what the next step was. And I quote, "If any second degree burn is larger than the area of a quarter, seek medical attention immediately."

My arm looked like this:


And I would say that's at least a dollar bill.

5:05 I started making phone calls and sending text messages to people who might be able to drive me to the ER. I couldn't exactly drive myself without risking my skin falling off on the way.

5:20 No one responded who could actually help me. A few people texted or called to see if I was okay, but they were in Salt Lake for the broadcast.

5:25 After realizing it had almost been an hour since the initial burnage, I decided I needed to drive myself to the ER. So I grabbed an ice pack and said a little prayer that I would be able to make it to the ER safely (oxymoronic). I don't know if you have ever tried to drive your injured self to the ER, shifting with your good hand and steering with an extremely painful burned appendage, balancing an ice pack, in an ancient truck with a stick shift and no power steering, but personally I would say it was a CHORE. But how blessed I am to have had a vehicle in which to get myself some help.

5:35 Once I got to the ER (after entering the wrong way and almost getting into a head on collision) I saw a member of my bishopric there (med student). He asked me how I was. I told him I had a burn. And then I started sobbing.

The rest of the time table isn't as clear cut, so I'll just squish it all together. They took me back to get treated pretty quickly (take that, kid who came in because his face hurt. I HAVE A WOUND! I WIN!) and I didn't have to wait very long to see the doctor. He looked at my arm and said most of my burn was 1st degree (thank goodness) but that I did have a couple spots that would take a while to heal. He decided not to scrape off the rest of the wax, because it looked pretty clean and he said it would come off on its own. He DID make me get a tetanus shot. Because I guess that's important to do when you lose some skin.

The tetanus shot didn't even phase me. It was nothing compared to what I had just experienced. For anyone who has ever seen me interact with needles, you can attest that I must have still been in a state of shock.

The nursey nurse showed me how to take care of my burn, gave me a prescription for painkillers and sent me on my way. She was a nice lady. By that time one of my roommates had come to the ER to make sure I wasn't dead, and we merrily made our way home with my new hundred-dollar purple bandage. I might as well have wrapped my arm in 20's.

LONGEST BLOG EVER OKAY BYE.

A good Day.

I woke up this morning with my retainer tangled in my hair. If that's not an indication that today is going to be a good day, I don't know what is.

Skirts with Backpacks and Other Such Campus Shenanigans.

Sometimes, girls at BYU wear skirts with their backpacks. This would be fine, if they were aware that with every step they take, their backpack could potentially expose their bum to the world. I am well aware of this phenomenon, and only wear skirts which I have tested for no-ride qualities. I used to take pity on these poor girls, and would tell them their skirt was tucked up under their backpack. I would try my best to let them know as soon as I saw it coming. I once ran up a hill to catch up with a girl whose skirt was perilously close to underwear territory. And all she said was "oh" and tugged her skirt down. No "thank you". And then I watched her skirt get all bunched up again as she walked away. She didn't even care. AND I RAN!

And so, I have become proud and bitter in my old age. Proud at the fact that I NEVER allow my backpack to eat my skirt, and bitter at the fact that these girls made it all the way to BYU without understanding the basic relationship between gravity and friction.

I can't think of anything to say that would resolve this blog for a good ending. So. The end.

Quote of the Day

"David. You look like you're about to expound."

-Dr. Topp

Quote of the Day

A text conversation bemoaning what is wrong with the dating world:


Me: It sucks.

Boy: I know it does... It makes me sick how easy it is for others. Its like ''Oh hi, by the way, we're in love.'' ''ok, cool.''

Quote of the Day

"Love isn't blind. Love is an idiot. It knows EXACTLY what it's getting into, and it doesn't care."

I really don't like sharp things.

Seriously. Just thinking about anything that has the ability to pierce or cut me induces a minor panic attack.

I was watching the Bourne Ultimatum tonight on TV, and it's pretty intense. P.S. WHY is Matt Damon so freaking attractive?

Anyway. At one point, Bourne is battling some crazy agent who has most likely gone through the same ridiculous-killer-ability training as he has. It was probably one of the most intense hand to hand combat scenes I have ever seen. AND I kept my eyes open the whole time, UNTILLLLLL......

One of the guys picked up a razor blade.

Automatic eye shield. I just can't handle sharp things. I can't even watch Pirates of the Caribbean without closing my eyes at some points. I just don't like the idea of any thing piercing anyone's skin any time any where. I don't even like carrying knives around the kitchen.

FUNNY STORY.

The other day I was cutting up a potato... and somehow the knife slipped and I slapped my abdomen with the blade super hard....And I stood and thought about what had just happened.... and then I almost fainted.

Did it cut me? No. Luckily I was wearing a rather sturdy apron.

You heard it here first: Flirty Aprons saved my life. The apron didn't even snag.

I hate sharp things.

Schoooooool

I keep getting behind in my blogging. I blame it on the fact that I am busting my butt at school. Which is great. Because that means I'm not procrastinating. Which is a first. Speaking of busting my butt and being behind..... Have you read "Miss Crusty" lately?


http://www.misscrusty.com/


Also, with the new school year I have been presented with many, many new subjects for Things That Must Go. I just haven't had time to do them literary justice yet. Some ideas that have been bopping around in my head:

Serial Commenters must go

In-class scab pickers must go

People who block the walkways must go

End of row sitters must go

What are some things that you think should go?

Get out of here.

OMG LANDSCAPER STOP EDGING THE LAWN SO THAT I CAN GO STEAL THE COLUMBINES FROM MY COMPLEX'S FRONT YARD.

Seriously. People have been mowing, edging, cutting, and annoying me for like an hour. All I want to do on my day off is go dig up part of the Columbine bush in my front yard and re-plant it in my little planter baskets. I tried to grow them from seeds, that failed. So I'm just going to go prune down the flower bush and steal part of the root system and put it in my freaking flower baskets. THAT'S ALL I WANT. GO AWAY, GARDENER MAN!!!! NOW!!!!

PS the sound of the lawn mower is about to drive me to murder you.

Quote of the Day

"You are so unfamiliar with the gym, you call it JAMES."

As Heard at BYU

From a girl in my 'socialization across childhood' class:

"I got married a week and a half ago. I've known him since September. We were kind of off and on. There were periods where I didn't talk to him for a few months. But we're married now. So whatever."

Remind me not to do that. K thanks bye.

When Harry Met Sally.

I watched the last half of When Harry Met Sally the other day on one of the only two channels that works on my TV upstairs. I'd never seen it before, and had never really been interested in seeing it, but I decided to give it a chance. These two scenes seriously made me laugh out loud. They introduced me to one of my new favorite quotes..... if any of you can guess which phrase it is, you win. Its about halfway through the clip, but you have to watch the begining to understand it. Watch the first 4 1/2 minutes of this, and then think about it.





If you don't watch this, it won't make sense. But yes. You were right... my new favorite quote:

"You know its funny, we started out like this, Helen and I. We had blank walls, hung things, put down tiles together. Then you know what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing SURREY with the FRINGE ON TOP, IN FRONT OF IRA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Every time I hear Harry scream: "IN FRONT OF IRA!!!" I seriously cannot hold in my giggles. Oh Billy Crystal, you're such a funny man.

Why facebook is the worst friend ever.

Many, many people spend a good amount of "quality time" on facebook these days. Some people even spend more time on facebook than on actual face to face interaction, which kind of makes me sad for the world. But lets take a hard look at the facts: facebook should not be our friend. If facebook were a person, these would be some of his winning qualities:

1. Facebook is nosy.
2. Facebook is a gossip.
3. Facebook is a bragger.
4. Facebook tells the same studpid stories over and over again.
5. Facebook tries to get us addicted to things. (Farmville, anyone?)
6. Facebook encourages stalking.
7. Facebook has no respect for privacy.

8. Facebook supports a sedentary lifestyle.

And now lets translate that into action: Facebook is the kind of friend who "talks bad" about other people behind their back. He never shuts up. He can often be found sitting on your couch in his greasy potato chip stained sweats, forcing you to look at his boring vacation pictures. He somehow always knows your business and consults everyone in the world about it. Also, he is on probation for stalking. What. A. Guy.

Facebook is the worst friend ever. Log off.

Sidenote: I almost posted this on my Things That Must Go blog, but Facebook can serve eternal purposes. It's just rare.

The wrong thing to do.

So. I haven't been running at all this week. I thought it would be a good idea to catch myself up a bit by simply running as hard as I could for as long as I could this morning. I ran a half a mile in like... 3 minutes. Kewl.

But then I felt like I was going to barf up my heart. So I walked the rest of the way.

And now every time I laugh I wheeze like an old man with consumption. (RIP, Satine.)

I'm not going to do that anymore. Okay BYE.

Quote of the Day

Tyler: Did I tell you about my job interview?
Ginger: You said it went.... sexily....?
Tyler: Oh.... yah.

I don't think it's funny.

So, Every other morning or so when I'm walking down the long path to the "employees only" door at work, there is a BYU grounds crew guy mowing the lawn with the wooly mammoth of all lawn mowers. It's huge, and it freaks me out. Also, why are lawn mowers always painted el diablo red? They look menacing and also like they are trying to eat me. The grass cutters fold down like wings of destruction. Shudder.




Anyway. Usually this grounds crew guy just cuts diagonal lines through the field surrounding the sidewalk, having to cut across it every now and then. This is a little bit scary for me, but whatever. I can see where he is coming from and where he is going, so I stifle my horror and maintain my composure.

WELL TODAY he decided to swing around me as I walked by, and drive directly behind me all the way to my office door. I panicked. My little heart started beating super fast. I could see his reflection in the glass doors coming up closer and closer behind me. The last 10 yards I seriously had to restrain myself from breaking into a sprint in my high heels. He is a mean mean lawnmower man. I don't know if he was trying to be funny, but it WAS NOT. I was so disturbed that I didn't even look behind me while he was chasing me.

DARN YOU LAWNMOWER MAN!

If I only had this information when I was in kindergarten.

This guy is being dead serious. Freaked me right out. He believes in elves SOOOOOOOO much.

I had no idea elves were unicorn keepers. Or that they love fruit. Whattayaknow.

Thanks to Miss Crusty for posting this.

Oh Discovery.

Reason 1230984509834098230 Why I love the Discovery Channel:


"Making the Cut"


A documentary on 60-day Army Ranger school.



I seriously marvel at both the psychological and physical endurance it takes to keep from weeping like a wimpy baby while going through the hell that is ranger school. About 100 recruits quit within the first 3 days. The soldiers are sleep deprived and food deprived on purpose. As in... one meal every couple days, 3 hours of sleep every two days. Army Rangers are an elite group. Only the best of the best are even sent to ranger school to begin with. Over the course of 61 days, most of them will lose 30 to 40 pounds. And how hard is it for them to stay awake, let alone do something strenuous? One soldier told the camera one of the tricks of the trade to stay alert:



"Some of these guys put tabasco sauce in their eyes. I haven't tried that yet."

WTFreak?

.....

One time, in highschool, I cussed aloud and then started crying because I dropped a powdered donut on the ground, and I was REALLY hungry. Ranger school is not for me.

Spice Supremacy

I decided to label a bunch of my cooking stuff what with the new school year bringing new roommates and mild kitchen confusion. I looked down at my table and saw this when I was done.




Sometimes it makes me sad that my first initial is K. Welcome to the spice KKK. Apparently, my spices don't like mixing with other spices. No spice integration here. This is totally not me. It's too bad my initials aren't NAACP. I know that doesn't make sense, but I'm sure you get what I'm saying.

Prayers are answered. Even when you do stupid things.

I don't mean for this blog to be dedicated to the skunk truck, but it has supplied me with most of my traumatic experiences as of late, and I like blogging about them. So here's another one.

Once upon a time yesterday I went to go fill up the old skunky truck with gas. The gas tank access door thinga-ma-jig has to be opened with a key sometimes. But not other times. I can't explain it. It has a lock? Whatever.

So I was trying reallllllly hard to open up the gas lock, and totally bent my car key. To the max. It was both bent AND twisted. I didn't take a picture, (because I was PANICKING) but I should have. This is seriously what it looked like though:


But worse. It wouldn't open my door, and it definitely wouldn't turn the ignition. I thought about calling my dad to ask him what to do, but that's when I remembered that the key I destroyed was the one and only key we have for the skunk. My earthly father, the amazing fix-it-man that he is, wouldn't be able to help me.

At that point, I said a desperate prayer to my Heavenly Father that I would be able to somehow get home. I really, really did not want to have to be towed from the gas station. After my little prayer, I became a newly inspired and determined McGyver. I stuck the bent key back into the gas tank lock and then carefully, meticulously and expertly bent my key back into near perfect condition. Wait, should that have been physically possible? Probably not. Did it open the door? Yes. Did it fit in the ignition? Pretty much. Does the car start? Yes.

I said another little prayer of thanks as I made my way back to my apartment. As I got out of my little truck, I noticed that I had driven all the way home from the gas station with my ancient and probably non-replaceable gas cap just sitting gingerly on the roof of the truck-bed cover.

I then said another little prayer of thanks that the gas cap didn't roll off. I am a dumb dumb. And my prayers are still answered. That's good to know.

And I didn't believe him...

So. I drive a hand me down black and white 1984 Mazda pickup truck. I like driving it around town. Its fun. But also, if I reach speeds over 45 MPH it makes me feel like I'm flying through space in a tin can. So, I like to keep things very slow, and very local. As in, between Smith's and my office on campus. Anyway.

Ever since we inherited the Mazda from my grandpa, my dad has always said:

"We should make a hot rod out of it!!"

..... And it always made me question his sanity a little bit, because, well, have you seen the truck?

No? Meet skunky:

Not hot rod material.

So anyway, this morning I was trying to find out via google how big the gas tank was on this bad boy, because I have a sneaking suspicion that the gas gauge shows 3/4 of a tank when really it should read FREAKING EMPTY.

As I was looking for a PDF of an old owners manual, I discovered that people actually DO make hot rods out of yes, the exact same make and model Mazda truck that I drive. This phenomenon can be attributed to the rising popularity of restoring "mini trucks."

Hot rodders basically turn these little automotive pipsqueaks into itty bitty low riders.

Behold:

Gross.

Remember that slip n slide?

Summer Slip n Slide - Summer 2010 from baci on Vimeo.

This is some beautifully edited footage from my dear friend Brad. Don't be jealous that my ward is way cooler than yours.

Happenings as of late.

My ward constructed a giant slip-n-slide at a local park last night. This is what it looked like:

It was all fun and games until we decided a billion people should go down in rapid succession because that would be cool. And it was cool. Until we all accidentally dog piled at the bottom and a rather solid ward member struck me in the rib cage with his rather solid shoulder. I couldn't breathe for a little bit. But now I'm fine.

Also, I like to make my own thai food lately. Its healthy and delicious and super cheap. I don't know why I never thought that I could make it myself until now, but dang gina, I can.

Also, should I start posting the "things that must go" on this blog? Sometimes I update that blog more often than this one. I need to strike a balance. Or everyone just needs to read that one too. Go here for the latest updates on things that must go. Today's special: Ants and ant-like creatures.

Memories.

A couple days ago I woke up from a nap with the "Miss Susie had a baby" song inexplicably stuck in my head.

Not familiar?

It's a really trashy rhyme we used to sing when we were playing a ghetto pattycake game in elementary school. Our version went like this:

Miss Susie had a baby, the baby had a bill
miss Susie went to heaven, the baby went to
HELLO operator, please give me number 9
And If you disconnect me, I'll kick your big
BEHIND the 'fridgerator, there lay a piece of glass
Miss Susie sat upon it, and broke her little
ASK me no more questions, I'll tell you no more lies
The boys are in the bathroom, zipping up their
FLIES are in the city, the bees are in the park,
Miss Susie's with her boyfriend, kissing in the
D-A-R-K D-A-R-K Dark dark dark!
The dark is like a movie, the movie's like a show
A show is on a TV set and that is all
I KNOW I know my mama, I know I know my pa
I know I know my sister with a 40 acre bra!

I didn't think anything of it when I was little. I also didn't think anything of this one:

Mailman mailman do your duty,
Here comes Shayna with a big fat booty
She can shake it to the right
she can shake it to the left
when she shakes it she's the best


Oh. And there were tons more. One of my favorites when I was little was this gem my friends learned while cheerleading for the Fremont Football League, aka the FFL, as in, the pee-wee football league in my city where little girls learned how to be hoochies and little boys turned into thugs. Way to go, Fremont. Anyway. It went like this:

Who000 rocks the house?
Kelly rocks the house.
And when Kelly rocks the house,
she rocks it
ALL THE WAYYYYY DOWNNNNN!

Now, we didn't use this rhyme during pattycake. We didn't use it during hopscotch. No, not even playing jump rope. When we sang that one, we stood in a semi-circle and whoever we said "rocked the house" would dance in the middle of the circle until the ending line. On the ending line, the girl in the middle would shake her hips all the way down to the ground. As in. We rocked the house all the way down.


.....crickets......


WE WERE 9 YEARS OLD.

Has anyone else ever felt this way?

I feel like old school black and white dodge caravans totally look like killer whales.

Am I wrong?

I can't believe I forgot to write about this...

I watched "Invictus" for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It blew me away. It's set in newly post-apartheid South Africa. Even though segregation laws had been done away with, the people of South Africa were far from being united. It's actually a pretty accurate portrayal of true events, and that always gets me. The movie itself is mostly clean. There are a couple dirty words to beware of, one of which is pretty blatant, but the rest are kind of hard to make out because they are being mumbled by Rugby players with South African accents.




Rent it.

Also, the movie is named after the famous poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley. It's my new favorite. It's amazing to me how literarily incompetent I am sometimes. I had never heard of it until watching this movie, but I love love love it.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell grasp of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.



I may or may not have just typed that entirely from memory. Booyah.

Things that must GO.

I smelled someone's fart at work today when I tried to get a drink at the drinking fountain. Please visit Things That Must Go for further details:

Drinking Fountain Farters

OMG the horror.

I likey this song.

Its tooooooo bad I wasn't old enough to be a Bruce Springsteen groupie back when he was in his prime. And when I say I wasn't old enough, what I really mean is that I wasn't born yet. I think this concert was held in 1986. So close. Then again, maybe it's for the best. His groupies were probably disgusting hoochies. But dang, do you BLAME them?

Maybe I will marry someone named Bruce. Ya, I know. It rhymes with spruce, and goose, and abuse, but man. Bruces seem to be winners.

Bruce Wayne?

Winner.

Bruce Springsteen?

Winner. A patriotic winner.

A white-trash batman, if you will.

Things That Must Go.

Remember how I started a new blog? Please become a follower. Its called "things that must go."

Most of the posts will be original, but as I look through my blog archives I'll probably adapt some of the posts I've written about previously to fit the new blog. I love it. FOLLOW!

www.thatmustgo.blogspot.com

Do it.

K thanks bye.

Quote of the Day

Have we solved the toilet paper caper????!!!

I KNOW OKAY.

I know my posting frequency has been waning. I KNOW. I'll be better. I'm also working on a (gasp!) new blog, that will hopefully fulfill my dreams of syndicated bloggership someday. It's going to be greaaaaat.

Glenmoor, Oh Glenmoor

A while back I attended a little poetry night with a few neighbor friends. Each guest was required to present an original poem, and seeing as how I didn't have my junior high diary handy in which I had several dramatic rhyming tragedies recorded for posterity, I feverishly wrote this poem. I'm posting it here upon request from those who heard it, who want to relive my childhood with me over and over again. Enjoy:


Glenmoor, Oh Glenmoor


It didn’t take me long to choose
For my poetic entry
Short stories from my childhood
At Glenmoor elementary.

Our principal had a Gerry curl
And smoked two packs a day
Yet somehow wooed a married teacher,
Resigned and ran away.

Our music teacher hated kids,
Bragged Gershwin was her homie
But judging by her singing voice
That story was baloney.

I was the whitest little girl
There was or ever has been
Still I learned me some double dutch
From Shayna, Kelly and Jasmine.

When it came to bullies
I refused to pay my dues.
I once gave one a bloody nose
When he attempted to abuse.

One day my lunch was stolen though,
they even took my glasses.
Had I known the thieves behind the heist
I would have kicked their @$$&$

Janitor Dave was a frowny man
With a significant stalker ‘stache
But I really liked him after he fished
my retainer from the trash.

Our playground boasted rusty slides
And swings with broken chains
Nestled in a neighborhood
Oft frequented by gangs.

My education was unique,
A crazy one at that
Yet still I’m proud to call myself
A Glenmoor Wildcat.

Bloggers Unite.

My friend's little sister has a new blog. It highlights awesomely distasteful occurences that run rampant in our society. Enjoy.


www.misscrusty.com

Powell Power, The Continuing story.

We walked around the villages until my little heart was ready to explode with happiness. At certain points we had to shimmy up a SCARY LADDER and then held on to a chain whilst scaling a rock face to access / exit the cave.

The ladder:






Nbd. Just you know, the height of a 3 story building. If Mama Booth had been there, she would not have allowed it. Here's why:




I just love how no camera is able to capture the entire thing within the frame. DO YOU PEOPLE KNOW ME? I can't even help my dad put up christmas lights because heights kind of freakkkkk me out. But I just wanted to play in the village that much I guess. My legs and arms were shaky for oh, I don't know, the entirety of the tour. Worth it? Yes.



Notable occurrences: At one point, I climbed down into a pit house at one of the cliff dwellings to just, you know.... see what I could see. There was no one down there. And then, there was a funny asian mother / daughter combo who came down the ladder to make some model poses and take pictures. And then, out of NO WHERE, there was a very large, very frightening native american man in front of me. He reached out his hands in a very menacing gesture toward my person and said:



"Ha! Now I've got you!!" ...... Maniacal Laughter



And I flew out of that pit house like a bat out of native american hell.

Aside from being haunted by the ghosts of past residents disguised in modern day clothing, I am not kidding when I say that I would be perfectly content to find my own little cliff dwelling and move in. There are over 600 in the greater Mesa Verde area. I'm sure I could find one that would suit me just fine.

Also... I contracted some semi-wicked poison ivy from frolicking in the wilderness.

That is the price you have to pay to be one with nature I guess.

Powell Power!

Once upon a time, my cute friend Cali said: "Hey, I want to go on a road trip this weekend. Do you want to come?"

And I said: Maybe, where are you going?"

And she said: "I don't know. Lets figure it out."

And the rest is history. And by history, I mean we sat down for a substantial amount of time every day for the next week in preparation for our journey. And oh what a journey it was.

Cali, myself, and 5 boys + 1 girl decided to go to Lake Powell for Memorial Day Weekend, 2010. With 8 people and two very determined drivers we made a pretty impressive loop around the great state of Utah in 3 days. Check out our route:

We departed Provo around 4:45 pm on friday and drove ourselves alllll the way down to lake powell. We camped on the beach. It was already dark by the time we got there, and we were cranky and sandy and windblown by the time we went to bed.

But then, we woke up to this:

And the angels were singing. We had a glorious day filled with sun and sand and water and wonder. And happiness.

Then, the boys tried to cliff jump off of a rock that jutted out about 20 feet at the bottom from where they were standing, and I literally had to talk them down from the edge. I used my best mom voice to try to convince them that if they jumped, their final resting place would be in the Lake Powell chapter of Davy Jones' Locker. It was exhausting. They surrendered after a 10 minute showdown and jumped off a smaller cliff instead.

I also brought a plethora of sunscreen to share, and encouraged everyone to re-apply to avoid ultra-violet radiation burnage. I'm such a vacation asset. Oh did you want to see another random picture of the beauty that is Lake Powell? Okay:

We had a jolly good time camping on the beach again that night. It looked like this:

The next morning, we woke up with the sun to drive to Mesa Verde. We stopped at four corners, which was closed for construction (which isn't even geographically placed correctly) and I bought a turquoise necklace from a nice Navajo lady. A couple hours later, we stopped for sacrament meeting in Cortez, Colorado. We made a quick change into church clothes in the bathroom and continued on the the chapel where we listened to an old lady talk about diabetes and illicit drug use, followed by a Guatemalan man who didn't know English. He spoke for a half hour. It was just great.

Finally, we traveled on to Mesa Verde and played (respectfully) in the crazy ancient native american villages.

It was there that I felt most at home, running and climbing and crawling around some bomb.com cliff dwellings. I felt one with Pocahontas once again.

To Be Continued.

Curse this Mystery

Dear Voodoo Gypsie Woman,

I don't know who you are or where you are, but I have a request. Please quit poking the eye ball on your voodoo doll of me with a wicked needle. It is shocking and painful. And its starting to freak me out. What do I need to do? Carry a dead chicken foot? I heard that has something to do with combatting voodoo. Or maybe that attracts evil spirits. I don't know. But stop it. My eye hurts. K bye.

Love,
Kristin

P.s. Your teeth are black.

Quotes of the Day

"The ball is in your court. And you need to take your ball and go home." -Mama Booth, reposted from Jackie's blog.

"Give and forget... receive and remember." -Some wedding thing.

S: "Have a good drive!"
N to S: "Have babies!"

Quote of the Day

"Dont cry. Just be patient. Every boy you date (or don't date) will either piss you off or make you cry until you get married. and then... he'll most likely do both but you'll still be glad you married him."

- Anonymous Sister

This made me laugh harder than I thought was possible.

Yesterday, work was long. And kind of boring. But also annoying. And never-ending. I had read through my usual cycle of blogs, giggled a few times at MLIA, but mostly I was just wishing I could disapperate to a sunny land far far away with my hammock.

Then, one of my work BFFs told me to go look at a blog she had just discovered randomly.

I read, I laughed, I cried.

Literally. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. The blog post I read was about random annoying things that cause the author to spiral into a vortex of hatred when they all add up, one annoyance after the other. Each annoying occurence was depicted with a scene created in some sort of paint program. Genius. Tears not only welled up in my eyes, but spilled out profusely. I don't think I have ever cried so hard out of laughter in my entire life. Seriously. I couldn't breathe for like 10 minutes. This picture is what pushed me over the edge:

To read it, go HERE!!!!!!!!

And, you are welcome.

A Mile a Morning (love handles take warning)

Can I just say, that I am giving myself a pat on the back right now? Really. I just patted myself on the back. Why? Because I run. Almost every day. Lets pretend this is a huge accomplishment for me (because it IS) shall we? I'll honor you with a Q and A session. I will be both the interviewer and the celebrity interviewee.

Q: How far do I run?

A: Typically, 1 mile.

Q: How much of that is spent actually running, not walking?

A: At least 80%

Q: Have I yet to run 1 whole mile in my life without walking?

A: It's possible that it occurred once or twice in my high school "fit for life" class, but no such occasion has ever been documented.

Q: What are my current exercise goals?

A: I want to be able to run a mile without stopping. Or crying. Or dying.

Q: Do I time myself?

A: No. But I think I'll start once I can make it the whole mile. I'm working toward eventually beating my fastest time ever. Which was 9 minutes flat. In the 8th grade.

Q: How sexy do I look when I am running?

A: Zero sexiness achieved.

Q: How awesome do I feel when I go running?

A: Pretttttty awesome.

Q: Man, how do I do it?

A: With the enormous power contained in a little thing I like to call Bojangles (the iPod).

Q: What's on your jogging playlist?

A:

Candyman..............................Christina Aguilera

Armada Latina.......................Cypress Hill

S.O.S........................................Rihana

Pretty Woman........................Roy Orbison

Suzie Q.....................................CCR

Crazy Love...............................Michael Buble

(I don't know why. But this song inspires me to run. Perhaps on the wings of love.)

Money......................................Barrett Strong

Songs Like This.......................Carrie Underwood

Replay.......................................Iyaz

Q: Interesting. Do I run during bouts of inclement weather?

A: You bet your buns.

Q: Do I enjoy running in the rain?

A: Yes. Except for the sensation on my forehead that I imagine feels quite similar to Chinese water torture.

Q: Have I ever biffed it big time?

A: Not yet. My shoes are glorious and springy and quite grippy.

Q: Have I started drinking water like a crazy woman?

A: Why yes, yes I do. And I don't save any for the whales.

Thank you. Those are all the questions I have time for. Good day.

Blog Soup

There are just too many things to write about and too little time. Therefore, I will post a series of pictures with short explanations in an attempt to catch up on my blogging.

I saw this box of tissues at Smith's. And I immediately stopped in my tracks and just stared at it. I wanted it. I picked it up. I almost put it in my cart, and then I remembered that I don't really have a need for kleenex. Ever. In fact, I don't think I have ever bought or used a box of tissues in my whole entire college career. I'm not too proud to blow my nose in toilet paper. But man, packaging just GETS me.

One of my spring classes brings me a huge amount of entertainment and happiness. One of them does not. It's boring. And so, I find myself putting several tiny "Sulley" braids in my hair throughout the hour and a half lecture. And then I take pictures. And text them to friends.

Okay, so mine isn't nearly as majestic as Sully's. His is down to his waist. And beaded.

Also, it is duckling season. This mama duck put its head down, wings out, and tried to ram me. I wasn't going to steal one of her babies. I just thought about it for a second, okay?!

When I wear these shoes, it looks like I have cloven hooves. All you can see are my two biggest toes poking out of the "peep" toe. It makes me giggle when I walk. And I said giggle, not jiggle.

Look closely. That is the heard of moms crossing the street during women's conference. They are like a plague. They fill the streets and cause reckless mayhem all over BYU's campus. A pox upon your houses, women's conference!

Oh Dinner Group... How I love you.

So. I'm in a dinner group with some friends in my ward. There are 8 of us, and we rotate who cooks dinner for the other 7 from Monday - Thursday. That way. You only make one big dinner every 2 weeks, and you can enjoy everyone else's big dinner on the other days. I eat sooooo much better than I did before!

Dinner group is also an excellent time to socialize. We discuss a wide variety of topics and they are usually hilarious. A couple days ago, one of our conversations went like this:

Me: "Where did you go on your mission?"

Boy : "Argentina."

Me: "I know so many people who went to Argentina and South America."

Girl: "All my friends went to Brazil."

Boy: "Have you guys ever seen a capybara?"

Girl: "I tried to go see one at the zoo one time, but it wouldn't come out."

Me: "They are so crazy. They look like giant guinnea pigs. I watched Krat's Creatures. I know."

Other Girl: "Aren't they like, a Rous? Rodent of unusual size?"

Other Boy: "Ya they are like, giant and cat-like."

Boy: "Ya. I ate one."

Everyone: " ..... "

Sick. But also kind of funny.

Once Upon a Time...

My BABY sister went to prom.

She is cute.

This is her natural hair color, darn her.

My mom tried to teach her the art of fastening the boutonniere on Papa Booth. He's going to heaven for his patience.

Last minute changes with a pair of scissors made me reallllly nervous for her.

I can make this face too. I think this is the only time Michelle has ever looked like me.

Nicole had to pin on the boutonniere.

Her date was cute.

The end.