Intervention

I love carbohydrates. I think I probably have this in common with most other humans and living creatures. What I DON'T have in common with most people, though, is a condition that makes it extremely hard for my body to process carbs in a normative way. I've talked about it here before, so I'm not going to go into much detail about the whys and hows.

ANYHOO.

What I would just like to throw out into the universe today, is a a request for some support when it comes to this whole "food" situation. The kind of support I'm requesting is pretty no-muss no-fuss. It basically comes down to this:

If you see me eating or about to eat ANYTHING that falls into one of these two categories....

Food that contains high concentrations of flour or starch. (Bread, pasta, noodles, pizza, pretzels rice, mashed potatoes, tortillas, chips, everything worth living for, etc.)

or

Food that has any amount of refined sugar. (Cookies, brownies, cake, treats, candy, ice cream, soda, etc.)

Please just do me a solid and take it away from me. Even if I protest. Even if I tell you it's okay for me to eat it. Even if you have to pry it from my cold dead fingers. I would also suggest that you maybe throw it as far away from me as you can get it. Seriously. Chuck it. And then rub it in the dirt and maybe drizzle something disgusting on it so that I don't attempt to enact the 5 second rule.

There is a very rational explanation for this request.

...crickets...

If you want the explanation, read on.

I don't want you guys to think I'm a cray-cray who doesn't eat carbs. I eat them. The problem with the food above lies in the concentration (and not necessarily the mere presence) of carbs. I eat more than enough to keep me healthy and happy. Trust me. My body is healthier right now than I ever have been in my adult life. In order to STAY healthy and happy, I can only eat carbs in low concentrations, spread evenly throughout the day.

When I fall of the wagon and start eating super carby things, bad things happen. It sets off a chain reaction in my metabolism that causes my body to assume that I am starving to death. (True Story) I then legitimately turn into a cranky carb-eating hellish banshee until every carb within a 50 yard radius of my person has been consumed. And then I feel sick for days and I no longer have friends.

I PROMISE I am sick of talking about this and I didn't mean to go off on an explanation tangent. I just wanted to make sure the stakes in this situation are clear. Most of the time I don't have an issue, so a food-stealing-and-throwing event would be rare. I may or may not have, however, had a shameful apple pie binge recently, and that is why I'm giving ya'll a heads up.

Friends don't let friends eat whole apple pies.

I'm too tired to write a blog....

So please read THIS blog instead.

You will not be sorry....

I don't know this girl, but this blog made me rofl multiple times at work...

It makes me want to write one of these posts about my own family. It probably won't be as funny, but the Booth fam has some gems of their own for sure. Stay tuned for that one. For now, you're welcome.

Nicole Booth vs. Jess Day

I recently binged on watching as many episodes of "New Girl" as I could find streaming online. And I basically found them all. And watched them in marathon mode. This got me thinking: my little sister Nicole is the original Jess Day. They are definitely quirky in different ways, but the similarities between the two are just too intense to be coincidental. I'm convinced that the writers for the show follow Nicole around and constantly take notes. This is what their little steno pads must look like on the daily:

"Dark dark hair. Blue eyes. Sometimes glasses."

"Tons of guys constantly swirling around her."

"Shamelessly wears full length matching pajamas despite having an excellent figure to show off. Interesting."

"Random acts of song and dance."

"Strange noises in awkward situations."

"Has dated a toxic asshat or two. Interesting dynamic. May be interesting to revisit that."

"May or may not cry. No warning."

"Loves kids. Treats them as if they are her own. Even when they are annoying? Fascinating."

"Slight drama-geek flavor."

"Loves wearing cute clothing, having cute things, being cute, etc. Basically a cute overload."

"Says very funny and unexpected swears."

"Uses odd voices at any given time discussing any given topic."

"Dabbles in the artistic. Knits sporadically."

"Cannot, for the life of her, hide her emotions. Wide array of facial expressions used liberally."


And now for a visual:

I'm onto you, New Girl.

Between A Dock And A Dark Place

Once upon a time, Nicole and I drove out to Flaming Gorge to meet up with Papa Booth for a mid-week one-day camping/boating extravaganza. The game plan was to leave Salt Lake right after I got home from work, and get there long before it was totally dark. We would meet up with my dad at the dock at 8 p.m., and then boat to the water-access-only camp ground. Perfect plan, right?

Well....We didn't leave Salt lake until about 5:45.... and between the already-long drive and my idiocy which created a 45-minute detour, we didn't get there until about 9:30 p.m. We were watching the sun set and panic-driving for the last 30 minutes, hoping my Dad wouldn't be mad that we made him wait at the dock for 30 billion hours.

So we finally roll up... and we see Papa Booth just sitting indian-style on the dock, wearing a headlamp. Like a boss. I don't know why I thought he would be mad. I can't imagine any place he'd rather be than in the wilderness all alone with his boat. Honestly.

By the time we got my car all parked, used the nasty wilderness bathroom, and arranged the "do it yourself" parking permit situation, it was 9:45. For anyone who isn't familiar with the sun and/or nature ... this caused a problem. It was DARK.

We got in the boat and set off for camp. After about 10 seconds, my dad goes, "MAN! I can't see a THING!!"

There was one dinky little torch-like wimptacular boat light on the back of the boat, which did us a grand total of ZERO good in the present situation. My Dad was wearing a tiny LED headlamp, but all he or we could see ahead of us was our inevitable doom. Nicole was already having a small panic attack. Right as we passed the invisible buoys, I suggested that we go back.

"I don't think we really can at this point" was Papa Booth's response. Which, if I may say, was false. We could still see the dock. We could have slept in my car. BUT. All our beautiful camp stuff was all set up on the other side of the lake, so although in theory we could have turned back, my father would rather have died a watery death than leave our camp unattended overnight. We had said a prayer for safety before we left the dock, so... everything would be cool right?

Nicole was not convinced. I also had my doubts, but there comes a point when boating on a black lake into the infernal darkness that you just decide to stand up and use your Dad's headlamp as the wimpiest headlight that ever was.

Dad drove, Nicole sat in a ball on the floor, willing her iPhone to guide us by GPS, and I stood like a terrified human lighthouse, feverishly shining the headlamp from right to left in hopes of avoiding a collision with either shore. We could just, and I mean JUST make out the shore on either side of us. It looked like this, and I am not exaggerating:

Except, it was darker.

We only had to cut the engine once. We very nearly ran into a rock wall. Nicole saw it on the GPS and yelled for Papa Booth to stop, but he was "already slowing down, because he saw it."

I'm not going to say he didn't see it, but I WILL say we would have died without the GPS. Interpret that how you may.

After about 15 or 20 minutes of sheer terror, we made it around the last bend toward camp. YA THERE WERE BENDS, DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT.

It then took about 10 minutes to park the boat at the dock, because according to my Dad, there was a giant rock under the water that we were trying to avoid. At this point Nicole and I were breathing again, so, rock shmock. We did NOT care. Once the boat was safe and sound, all tied up and fastened with the appropriate bumpers/life jacket as padding against the dock, we had the privilege of scaling a very dusty and very steep "path" to the main camp trails. And when I say dusty, I mean the dirt was the consistency of flour. NBD. I love cheating death twice in one night. Once we finally made it to the camp site though, it was glorious. Dad have everything organized in a very perfect Papa Booth fashion. The tents were up, cooking stuff all set out and organized, fishing poles all lined up in a row, etc.

We built a fire, ate some s'mores, tried to kill a mammoth spider with a hatchet, said swear words, told bear stories, and called it a night. Sorry Mom. I don't know if Dad told you this story yet, but well, now you know. K bye!

What I've learned in my old age.

As I get older, I have really been trying to pin down what I actually know vs. what I still need to learn. I'd like to share a couple things that I've learned so far. Here are a handful of truths that I've been able to pick up on in my short and unimpressive 25 year life span.

1. To graduate college, you have to do crap. And I mean... loads of it. For me, the most challenging part of getting a college education was the motivation and determination factor, rather than the actual book-learning. I've always loved learning. I know a lot of things. But knowing things can only get you so far before you need to start doing. Which brings me to another truth:

2.  (Disclaimer: I'm about to say "ass"...) Experience makes you the master of your trade; mere knowledge of it just makes you a smart-ass. Who would you choose as your heart surgeon: a doctor who has performed thousands of successful procedures, but readily admits he doesn't yet fully understand every intricacy of the human heart? Or a doctor who knows every possible bit of information regarding heart surgery, but has never touched a scalpel? I wouldn't let Dr. Bookworm touch my heart with a 10 foot pole.

3. Truth: It is 10 trillion percent worth it to eat healthy food, even though our society has excelled at making the consumption of crappy food easy, inexpensive, and convenient. Maybe you're reading this and you're 18 and you're thinking, "Ya sure. Whatever. I'm going to eat chicken nuggets for breakfast every day and I'm bullet proof and I'm going to live until I'm 130." Trust me, my little children. You will NOT. Go google diverticulitis and then re-commit to eating your veggies.

4. Some people do ridiculous things, and they'll probably never change. This is a truth that I hate, but it's a truth nonetheless. There are people in this world who do things I will never be able to understand, and they'll probably do puzzling, upsetting, harmful things until the day they die. You can either let their behavior get you down, or you can lead a happy life independent of other people's choices, words, and actions. Once you've accepted this fact, navigating your life becomes pretty simple.

5. The older you get, the faster time passes. I feel like my life has been continually picking up speed for as long as I can remember, and every day I'm shocked at how quickly time has passed. When I'm 80, I'm going to wake up and just die of shock (despite my good health) because I'm going to realize that I'm 80 and it's going to freak me out. I wonder how many people die that way.

6. There is a very real difference between a need and a want. I'm still working on mastering that distinction, but I'm trying really hard. It comes with the territory when you're poor. I'd say, learn that distinction as early as you can and try to exercise restraint when it comes to spending time and energy on things you don't really need.

7. I don't care if your IQ is 175 and you have 10 PhDs... you don't know anything about anything compared to the knowledge and wisdom of God. If you think for one second that you know more than Him, you are an imbecile to the nth degree.

Those 7 things are basically all the wisdom I can muster, but I personally think they're pretty good as far as wisdomy treasures go. 7 wisdomy treasures for you, and none for Gretchen Weiners, BYE!

My organs talk a ton of shh about me behind my back...

Something somewhat significant happened about 3 months ago: I was diagnosed with PCOS, a disease that makes it pretty much impossible for my body to use carbs for energy.

Weird, but big whoop, right? Carbs shmarbs.

WRONG. MEGA BIG PROBLEM.

Unbeknownst to me, THIS is what I my metabolism was going through on a daily basis:

Brain: Wakey wakey. Time to fuel the body for the day. I'm going to tell Kristin to eat some healthy foods, and maybe some whole grain baked goods. 

Stomach: Me hungry. Nom nom nom.

Pancreas: I sense an increase in blood glucose. I shall commence releasing insulin to convert this sugar into cell-food, because I am an extremely efficient and useful member of this team.

Brain: Thanks pancreas. You're my favorite organ. 

Ovaries: Excuse me? Why am I never invited to these metabolism functions? I'm going to release some totally unnecessary hormones. Have fun sorting that out, you elitist flock of biotches.

Stupid Hormones: I don't know why I'm here. Tra-lala la laaaaa.

Bloodstream: These chemicals be crazy up in here.

Cells: What's happening out there? I'm confused. I'm not opening up my food doors. I feel like everyone's fighting. I'm sensitive. 

Pancreas: Wait what? The cells aren't eating? This cannot be. They LOVE eating. I must not have released enough insulin to sufficiently break down the sugar for them. I'm ashamed of my failure. No one can know about this. I MUST TRY HARDER. *Insulin Insulin Insulin*

Stupid Hormones: Derp der-derrrr.

Cells: Pancreas... chill out. You are being very pushy right now. I just don't feel good about this, okay?

Pancreas: TAKE THE BLOOD SUGAR, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BUNDLE OF MOLECULES.

Cells: Omgosh fine. But I'm only taking a little bit. And I hate you.

Bloodstream: These nutrients need to back up off me. They're just bopping around in here forever like this is their home. But guess what? This is MY house. Time to send them down to fatty town. POW.

Fat Deposits: Yes, my little nutrients. Join our fold. This is where you belong. Welcome. 

Cells: I'm tired. No one appreciates me. No one cares how I feel. It takes all my energy just to EXIST in this relationship. I'm taking a nap. Leave me alone for the rest of my life. We're through. 

Brain: Ooookay. The cells are getting cranky... They must not have eaten anything. Kristin didn't consume  enough nutrients and carbohydrates to go around. Stomach: reawaken.

Stomach: ME WANT MOOOOOARRRRR.

Pancreas: I'm on it. 

And on and on it went. Always hungry. Always tired. Everything I ate got turned into fat. 

Lest you think I made all this up as an excuse for being flabby and eating with the ferocity of a veloceraptor, I now take some serious diabetes medication to fix my metabolism. And I'm not diabetic. And it doesn't kill me. So there. 

P.S. .... that just reminded me of the scariest movie moment of my childhood:

The Queen of Freetail

You know. Instead of Retail? Ya. Catchy. I'm super clever.

You GUYS. Here is what is happening in my life right this instant/in the recent past:

1. I graduated college.
2. I therefore lost my student job.
3. I found a new job in Salt Lake.
4. I moved into an apartment near 9th and 9th.
5. I make just enough money to make ends meet.
6. New furniture is for rich people only.
7. I scour the fruitful interwebs for pieces of furniture that people are giving away for free. (Location is a trade secret. JK it's KSL.)
8. I pick it up (unless I fear for my safety upon arrival at the original owner's location) and I take it home.
9. I adopt it as my own.
10. Once my apartment is sufficiently furnished, I am going to start refinishing / reselling these pieces after first pinteresting the hell out of them.
11. Sorry I said hell.
12. My life is awesome.

No really though. It's already becoming a thing. It's a constant obsession of mine. PEOPLE GET RID OF THE COOLEST CRAP! They are dumb-dumbs. But please, keep me on hoarder watch. The last thing I want is to be found unconscious under a pile of used stuffed animals inside an apartment stuffed to the brim with free "treasures". I don't think that will be a problem though, because after watching even one episode of hoarders I throw away 60% of my stuff. 



Anyway. Freetail. It's my new thing.

Back in Black

This post has nothing to do with the color black, just mostly to do with the fact that I'm back.

I almost just wrote something really clever and funny and possibly offensive anecdote, but I'm not going to go there because I don't want to offend anyone. And if it's offensive, is it REALLY truly funny? I think not.

Today, I'm just going to organize some of the thoughts I had while I was driving down the freeway on my way to pick up some free closet doors. We'll save the rest of my saved up, juicy, blog-worthy stories for later posts. 


The subject of the LDS (or Mormon) religion has been swirling around with record exposure as Mitt Romney's presidential campaign has become front page news. This type of exposure can go two ways: good or bad. When it's bad, it's really bad... but when it's good it's awesome. There are a lot of rumors, misinterpretations, and actual truths about the church that have been brought up and discussed and ignored and refuted on a scale the LDS church has never seen. 


Not surprisingly, some of the early leaders of the church have once again come under public scrutiny. I have heard a fair amount criticism of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young in the media lately. Although I'd love to say that my confidence in the church and my testimony of the Gospel are untouchable entities far above any worldly attacks, I AM human. Hearing the inflammatory accusations and deliberate twisting of historical facts which paint our early church leaders as despicable evil liars DOES in fact bother me.

I have spent hours upon hours in the last few years pondering and studying and praying in hopes of gaining a stronger testimony of the events which took place in the early church, as well as building up a better emotional defense against seemingly tireless verbal and literary assailants.

This brings me back to my experience this morning. I have always accepted that the Lord's ways are not always (read: rarely) understood by his children. Even so, I have been confused and frustrated at times by historical occurrences and doctrinal principals for which I was unable to immediately fathom a rational purpose with my mortal mind. While driving along and reflecting, casually thinking about the progress I've made in this area of my life, a wonderful thought entered my mind. All at once I realized that it really just comes down to this:

The church is not about what anyone did 200 years ago. It's about what Jesus Christ did for us 2000 years ago.

If we can't remember this, we're missing the point. All of the Lord's prophets, apostles, disciples and followers who have ever walked the earth have been mortal men and women. We are all imperfect beings in a fallen world. Let's not let the misunderstood or yet unexplained actions and choices of fellow mortals distract us from the divine purpose and direction the Lord has in store for our existence. Jesus Christ perfectly balances an equation for which we have absolutely no hope of finding the solution to on our own. In a perfect world, I would always remember that. 

I miss you, blog.

The hardest part about not having the interwebs at my apartment in Provo is not being able to blog sufficiently. It pierces me to my very core. I pretty much have to use my phone for all of my leisurely internet activites. And there is no blogger app for blackberry.

 I HATE TOUCHSCREENS OKAY?!?!?!?

Soooo... the only time I would actually be able to blog would be:

1. At work. No.

I pretty much have no downtime there lately (except right now... which probably isn't even actually downtime. Don't tell on me).

2. At the library. No.

I only go to the library when it's business time. And when I say business time, I mean I have procrastinated a project so sorely that I must force myself to work on it from dawn until dusk. Or like, 3 hours. Whichever comes first.

3. At a friend's house. No.
Yes. I do have study parties with my bffs.... but those are STRICTLY for studying. And youtube.



So, I'm sorry, Blog. This must be really awkward for you, running into me this way. Such a short and thoughtless post after so long. It makes me feel kind of like this:





But maybe, someday, when I live somewhere with internet access, it will feel like this:





Uh..... Maybe not like that. But. You know what I mean.

Also. Never seen that music video until just now. Celine. You kill me.

Rapper Names Atwittering...

I have become addicted to Twitter. It may have something to do with the fact that I only get internet on my PHONE when I'm at my house.... but either way, I'm a tweeting fool. My original user name was kristinmbooth... but the internet is all atwitter with creeps and I don't think I want my full name oot and aboot in the tweet world. So... I've been experimenting with new usernames... trying to find one that is available.... and since soooo many are already taken... it spiraled out of control and I quickly turned into my own female rapper-name generator. It unfolded a little like this:

kbooth - Unavailable
kmbooth - Unavailable
kmay - Unavailable
kmaybooth - Available (Option 1)
kboothy - Unavailable
kmboothy - Available (Option 2)

(But do I really want both my first initials AND my last name?)

Kbizzle - Unavailable
Kstar - Unavailble (As dubbed by B-nock)
Kbizzooth - Available (Rapper option 1)
Kbeezy - Unavailable
Kbreezy - Unavailable
Kmbizzooth - Available (Rapper Option 2... but bizzooth is pretty weird)
kboo - Unavailable
kmizzlebizzle - Available (Rapper Option 3. Why so many available rap names?)
kladybizzle - Available (Rapper Option 4)

HOLD UP.

Did I just seriously check to see if "kladybizzle" was an available twitter user name?

Ya. It definitely happened. And now I can't think of any more normal names. Just rapper names. They keep flooding into my head! The possibilities are endless! I could also be:

kladyswag
kmaybreezy
kglitterbeezy
kbizzlefresh
Ksassyb
ktothebreezy
KtotheBizzo
ksparklefresh
kladyfresh (Feminine Deodorizer?)
Kswizzbeatz
KrizzleBizzle
kglitterfesh
kbizzle4rizzle


ALL. AVAILABLE.

What may even be more troubling than the fact that I thought of them... is that these ones were all taken:

kswizzle
kswizz
ksweezy
kswizzbeatz
ktothehizzo
kbreezy
kristizzle (Papa Booth calls me that sometimes. For real. So I called him Snoop Dad. Or Snoop Daddy. Or something.)

They're pretty much the same person....
So. Let me know if you're thinking of getting into the rap buziness (accidental Z. How gone is my brain?) and I will hook you up with a sweet and original rapper name, courte(z)y of my fried mind. I think I've settled on kmaybooth so make sure you @ me correctly. And. I am open to using a name based on the results of a popularity vote on the available rapper names presented above.

Premeditated Violence

So basically, Lie to Me is one of my favorite shows of all time.

I've only ever seen it (every episode available) on Netflix, but from what I understand it doesn't do too bad for itself in the real world of TV either. The characters run a lab dedicated to detecting lies through facial expressions in order to solve mysteries/get criminals to confess/find missing persons, etc.

It's based on Paul Ekman's real-life study on mapping and reading the facial expressions. Some expressions are believed to be universal to human emotion, regardless of cultural context. Throughout the show, scenes are punctuated by flashing pictures of public figures displaying the same expressions as the characters in the episode.

For example, scorn looks like this:



And guilt looks like this:



And contempt looks like this:



Etc. It's awesome. I hate liars, and I love this show.

Anyway. Now for my story:

I was working out the other day (read: going running for the first time in 2 months), and although it was a little rough, I thought I was enjoying myself. I go to the Provo Rec center, which is pretty small and a little shabby, but I love it all the same. I was on a treadmill right next to a wall with floor to ceiling mirrors. For the most part, I avoided eye contact with myself because working out isn't a pretty color on me.

HOWEVER. I looked at the mirror at one point, and I actually recognized the facial expression I was unconsciously making. I had been exposed to it a few times while watching Lie to Me. It looked a little something like this:



Seriously. The first girl in the frame could have been my work-out face twin.


This still flashed into my mind as I was looking at myself in the mirror, and I scared the crap out of myself and almost lost my balace on the treadmill.

Why, you ask? Aside from being a little shocking in and of itself, this expression, my friends, appears only on the faces of people intending to commit premeditated acts of violence. Like murder.

No joke.

So according to Dr. Ekman, working out makes me want to kill people. Doesn't sound too far off.

The End.

P.S. The internet at my house stopped working, so I have to blog in a lab on campus. My life is really hard.

P.P.S. The kid next to me is presently picking his nose and looking at it. I heart BYU.

Anon

I used to think that "Anon" was the name of some wise ancient sage.

Back in the days of dial-up and before the glory days of google... I used to browse archaic websites filled with clever or inspirational quotes. I did this so that I could put them on my AIM profile..... so that everyone on my buddlylist would think I was sohpisticated.





Man. Those were the days.

So anyway, I would find a quote that looked like this:


"The sun only shines on the faces of those who are looking skyward" - Anon

And I would think to myself.... "Wow... that Anon character must be really deep."

Seriously.

Even if half the quotes on the page was written/spoken by "Anon" .... it never occured to me that "Anon" was actually just short for "Anonymous."

It was kind of like finding out Santa wasn't real...but as a freshman in college. I don't think I've completely recovered from my shock combined with the realization of my own stupidity. I just remembered that situation and needed to record it for posterity.

I am also on a lot of cold medicine right now. So. Maybe that was a boring story. I have no way to tell.