Once Upon a Time...

...I decided to run a marathon.

And then I died running 18 miles on a treadmill.

The End.

True Story.

Thinspiration.

If you need a confidence boost go to Ann Taylor! They make all their pants really big so you'll end up being at least a size smaller than you really are. Who cares though? It's all about the number isn't it?

I didn't end up getting the fabulous skinny chords I tried on there though.

Instead I got 2 more pairs of Vigoss jeans.

F.Y.I. Nordstroms dressing rooms have 3D mirrors and bad lighting.

I recommend putting on Spanx for when you try on clothes there...

New jeans are the bomb.com. They're always a tad too tight so as soon as I get home I lean back on my bed, button them up, do 80 different yoga stretches in them and then wear them for at least 48 hours straight.

It's always a better idea to get jeans a size smaller than you think you might be. Too-tight jeans are easier to disguise than too-loose jeans.

Besides, SBS (saggy butt syndrome) looks good on no one.

Too-tight jeans are also good for motivation purposes. Think of them as "thinspiration" next time you squeeze your love handles into them.

And then promptly listen to that one Beautiful song Christina Aguilara or whoever sings...

Christmas List

We've all been on a plane before. It takes you forever to load the plane because you didn't feel like forking out the extra $100 dollars for bottled water and 2 inches of extra leg room in first class. Then you have to find a place to stuff your "carry on" (because you didn't want to pay 50 bucks to check it) in the over head compartment. You end up crawling over the cast of the Biggest Loser to get to your middle seat (stuff your "personal item" a.k.a. your overly sized backpack between your legs) and then you drown out the flight attendant safety instructions for the next 30 minutes before the plane finally backs up. Then you put 3 pieces of gum in your mouth so that when you achieve altitude your ears don't explode.



And then you pull out Sky Mall and spend the next hour laughing at all the things they're trying to sell you. At least that's what I do.


Note, the training toilets come in different sizes and there is a Step-by-step training DVD included....

Is there adhesive on the back of these? How long does it last? Wouldn't you be constantly worried your right cheek was gonna sag?

Just in case you can't read what it says, "It features a Wish Pocket that lets you carry your fondest wishes with you wherever you go." Cool. So basically it's a snuggie with a pocket.

Just last night I was looking all around for my cell phone. I wouldn't have lost it in the first place if I had bought this fashion forward accessory!



Last but not least, the famous cookie diet. I would love to loose 10 pounds and 2 jacket sizes in 2 days eating cookies... I bet it works almost as good as the new Taco Bell diet...



The sad part is, these things are only in the magazine because people actually buy them.


That says a lot about America...

It's Not What It Looks Like

Awkward things to look up in the middle of the library where everybody can see your computer screen include:

-The Ku Klux Klan

- In Vitro Fertilization Alternatives

- Early on-set of puberty

What do all of these things have in common?

....I have had to google image all of them in the last 2 hours for homework purposes.

Today I also discovered something I fear worse than bananas.

Have you seen the new Narnia movie? This picture is of one of the actors in it.

I swear if I have an ugly kid, I'm putting it back.

Ha! Just kidding. Kind of.

Not for the faint of heart...

I've been running a lot lately... like a lot, a lot. It's really nice being thin. The only part that sucks is that I don't fit into any of my bras anymore! I've shrunk half a cup size.

I shouldn't be complaining though. I've been told it goes like this:

Your boobs in your 20s are nice and melon-like.

Your boobs in your 30s are like pears. Still good, but maybe just beginning to droop a bit.

Your boobs in your 40s are like onions. Why?

...Because they make you cry when you see them...

I've also been told it goes like this: (courtesy of my religion professor)

Women are like crock pots. They take a while to get hot when you turn them on, but once they're hot, they take forever to cool down.

So what does that make men?

Exactly. Frying pans.

Copy Cat

I happened upon the most delicious blog this weekend.

tandsdaybook.blogspot.com

If you:

-Like fashion

-Like lipstick

-Like beautiful photos

-Like copying other people's blog ideas

-Want inspiration for working out ( the girl is a size zero)

Then: YOU WILL LOVE THIS BLOG.

She basically takes a photo of her outfit every day and blogs about what she's wearing and the cute things her husband says and does for her. Her name is Sydney Poulton? Or something close to that at least. She's a student here at BYU-Idaho and when I grow up I want to be like her.

This is what I wore today:

Jeans: Nordstroms, Boots: Rocket Dog, Button-up: American Eagle, Cardigan: Shades Clothing, Belt: Deseret Industries.

I'm definitely not a size 0. Nor do I have a super hot, talented husband to take glamorous photos of me.

Instead I am size 4 on a skinny day and a mac that I can only position to capture 3/4 of my body.

Awkward: Having to explain to 3 different people that my nails spell 'Make-out' in Hungarian. Thanks to my boyfriend.

Awesome: Discovering that I love dirty hair lots, LOTS better than clean hair. I'm going green.

Date Night.

Have I mentioned how great my boyfriend is yet?

He does things like run 14 miles with me and runs all over town trying to find me an orchid.

Anywho...

It was my turn to think of a date idea last night.

Naturally, I chose duck catching.

What? Like you haven't done it before?

Dressed to Kill....

...myself.

Last night I slept with a down comforter, a wool quilt and a thick fleece blanket on top of me and I swear I could still see my breath when I poked my head out of the covers this morning. I quickly rolled over to see how much time I had given myself to get ready for the day.

25 minutes. Perfect.

I straightened my hair at the speed of light and whipped on a couple coats of my almost dried out mascara (I have yet to find the world's most perfect mascara/wand combination). I glanced out the window and saw thick, fluffy, whimsical snow flakes scattering through the sky.

Wet socks suck so boots it is! I decided on my light brown, 3-inch heeled, knee-high leather boots.

Bad idea.

SUPA bad idea actually.

I've kept a tally of how many times I've ended up sprawled about on the pavement due to lack of traction.

So far I'm up to 4 and the day is hardly half over.

Note to self: Nobody notices how totally hot your boots are when you're feet fly over your head because your balance and center of gravity blows and there's 2 inches of ice and slush on the ground.

Naughty Monkey D-Ring Boots. (A.K.A. world's most deadliest footwear)

Quotes

I was looking through my journal and my notes from last conference when I found this beauty:

" Refuse to remain in the realm of negative thought... Cultivate an attitude of gratitude."

-President Thomas S. Monson

I am definitely a quote person. I've written dozens on notecards and have them up all over my room. Lists of them are in my various journals and when I don't have anything to write them down with, they make their way into my cell phone.

Here are some of my favorites:

"Doubt thou stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love."

-William Shakespeare

"To wish you were someone else is to waste the person that you are."

-Anonymous

"Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character."

-Albert Einstein

"You can't talk your way out of something you've behaved yourself into."

etc. etc.

-Stephen Covey

Thou Shalt Not Covet

Screw you Victoria's Secret Fashion show.

Major Update.

"Everything works out in the end. If it's not working out, it's not the end."

-Somebody infinitely wiser than myself.

Occasionally I feel like it's the end of the world.

Exhibit A: When I realized that I hadn't had a second date this ENTIRE semester, I thought it was the end of the world.

Exhibit B: When I had to run my first 12 miler and it was 2 degrees outside, I thought it was the end of the world.

Exhibit Z: When I discovered someone had eaten every last bit of the precious Tin Roof Sundae ice cream I bought, I thought it was the end of the world.

But Alas (gotta love that word)! 'Twas not the end of the world. Imagine that.

His name is Boston. Well, it's Austin. But his code name was originally Boston so I think I'll stick with that.

We've got 2.5 weeks until the end of the semester to make some magic happen.

Please send pixie dust our way!

What being poor really means.

I've been in the library since 12:30 pm today. It's now 8:00 pm.

My Dad would be very pleased with my current hydration level. I've had to use the bathroom 5 times since I've been here. Usually, I hate public bathrooms. I once held it for an entire day when we went camping because the outhouses were too gross for me. Did you ever go on a Pioneer Trek? I held it for 2 days when I was on mine because I refused to nature pee.

I'm not high maintenance, I promise. I just prefer to do business in a bathroom where I have no risk of contracting chlamydia.

My last trip to the David O. McKay Library 1st floor ladies room reaffirmed my fear of public restrooms.

I had my student identification card in my back pocket of my Vigross jeans from earlier today. You need it for everything you do here (from getting into the gym, to printing things off in the library). It's ten dollars to replace.

As I was pulling up my jeans, I heard a small clink.

Exploitive. Exploitive. Exploitive.

To make matters worse, the toilets flush automatically.

I had .356 seconds to decide whether I was going to reach my hand in and grab it, or let it go down and just fork over the ten dollars to replace it.

I did title this post, "What being poor really means" so I'm guessing you can figure out what I ultimately decided to do.

I am now googling "diseases that are contracted in bathrooms" and preparing for the worst.

In case I do not make it until tomorrow, farewell faithful blog followers. Until we meet again.

Fight the Frown!

Step 1: Wear a smile (one size fits all)!

Step 2: Find someone who has misplaced their smile.

Step 3: Help them find their smile (everyone smiles in the same language).

Step 4: Now that their frown is upside down, have them pass the smile all around!

After all, a smile can brighten the darkest day.

This was on a flyer that I received walking through one of the main buildings on campus. Unfortunately I can't copy and paste the stick figures that go along with it. Just know that if I did, this post would be 5.46 times as funny.

I don't care if it's completely (almost painfully) cheesy. I like it.

Post. Script.

Don't you just love pop-up ads?

Plans.

Later I'm going to post pictures of how I spent my very vacant week this week.

I'll also tell you all about Boston.

And Black Friday.

And my various clothing malfunctions.

I. Am. My. Mother.

I don't think I've gone more than 12 hours without a pair of earrings on this semester.

Yesterday I spent 6 hours decorating my apartment for Christmas.

I watched the "Color Splash" marathon they had on HGTV yesterday.

My pajamas that I'm wearing are a matching top and bottom set.

I told my roommate a couple days ago to "Be who you are going to be, no matter what".

I cook on Sundays for all of my apartment and my meals are always extremely elaborate.

All of my roommates have received full-out pedicures from me. Fancy tools included.

Yesterday I listened to "Not Your Mother's LDS Music" after church. My mom has that CD.

Grapefruit Sobe anyone?

I cook like her, I decorate like her, I say things that she would say, I do things the way she would do them, I have the same facial expressions as her, I snap the way she snaps (which is important if you know my mother) and I'm starting to think I need a separate purse/bag for everything I own.

I don't look like my mom much. Especially if you see me with my natural dirty blonde hair color. I inherited exactly 2 things from her physically. My green eyes and my cup size.

Everyday though I find myself behaviorally morphing into the woman that gave birth to me.

I am definitely not complaining.

Because my mom is cooler than your mom.

Clean Slate.

As of this week I am:

Rededicating myself to my marathon training. No more missing runs. No more stopping to pretend to tie my shoelace when I'm tired.

Starting completely at ground zero in terms of members of the opposite sex. The old ones are old news. That's okay though! So many fish, so little time.

Reading the following books for fun:

The Screwtape Letters

The Hunger Games

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Cleaning my whole apartment-- mom style. You know what that means don't you? My mom used to call it creative cleaning. I find places for everything... just maybe not where you would expect.

On a side note, look what I can do!

Anonymity.

"Either write something worth reading, or do things worth writing" -Benjamin Franklin

I contemplated making my blog private.

Pros:

-The people that I write about wouldn't be able to read it, misinterpret it wrong, and then avoid me afterwards.

-The people that I write about wouldn't get the wrong idea, be offended, and then avoid me afterwards.

-I wouldn't have to worry about revealing too many embarrassing facts about myself and then have people avoid me afterward.

-I wouldn't have to worry about seeming lame and crazy to people who don't know me (but stalkerishly read my blog) and then have them keep on avoiding me afterward.

Cons:

-The people that probably should be the ones that read it, would never get to read it.

-There would be no more completely mortifying experiences with the people I write about when I face them after they have just told me they read my blog. Seriously, ha it's happened so many times I might actually miss it if it didn't happen anymore.

I don't believe in censoring myself. I also don't believe in cutting things out of the story to please somebody else.

I stick it to the man.

Actually, I don't.

I just can't think of how to end this blog.

So, that's that.

Inventions.

This my dears, is the Racktrap. It's made from hypoallergenic materials, fits snugly inside your bra, and can safely stash your money, license, and debit cards close to your heart. Oh, and the good news doesn't stop there! The Racktrap comes in white lace, black lace, nude lace, and a water-resistant version meant to go under your sports bra. It dares you to find a bra it can't conceal itself in! Because it just doesn't seem fair that men get to stash their cash so close to their bums while we women have no wallet of our own to keep in very private places.

Also found in my random google escapade:

Mantyhose. Mirdles. Manx. (a.k.a. nastiness)

Pep Talk.

The older I get, the more I realize that I am the only person that can make me happy. It's hard sometimes. Actually, sometimes it's almost impossible. I don't know if you are familiar with the five love languages, but if you are, my love language is words of affirmation (followed by quality time). I didn't think of this at first, but I frequently give myself pep talks. I guess that's how I tell myself that I love myself?

Of course it's better when someone else gives me one, but I make do. After yesterday, I need to give myself a little confidence boost.

10 Reasons Why I am the Coolest Laci You'll Ever Meet

10. I can do a plethora of stupid human tricks. Seriously, like show-and-tell worthy tricks.

9. I will never forget your birthday.

8. I will let you borrow my clothes, shoes, make-up and jewelry and I won't even get mad at you if you ruin them.

7. I will listen to every single one of your problems over and over and over again until we figure out a solution.

6. If I make a pinky promise to you, I will pluck my left eyebrow off before I break it.

5. I will laugh at all your jokes, even if they are lame. And it won't be a fake laugh either, chances are I really will think it's funny.

4. I will write a song about you and make a fool out of myself singing it if it will make you feel even a tiny bit happier.

3. If you are my true friend, I will hike to the ends of the earth in a snow storm with no shoes on just to make sure you know how much you mean to me.

2. I do cool things. Like run marathons, play the harmonica, bake cinnamon rolls, wear toe rings and dance like a grandma on opium.

1. I am the ONLY Laci you will ever meet. Nobody is quite like me and I can prove it.

I love myself. I have so many talents and abilities that I can use to bless the lives of others. I'm smart, beautiful and important.

I am important.

Haterade.

I hate my jeans, I hate my socks

I hate my hair, I hate all clocks.

I hate my homework, I hate school

I hate people that think they're cool.

I hate grey, I hate band-aids

I really hate not having a job and getting paid.

I hate surprises, I hate cake

I hate it when people are too fake.

I hate prank calls, I hate spam

I hate it when I make brownies and forget the Pam

I hate boogers, I hate snot

I hate when people say they're someplace, but they're not.

I hate cassette tapes, I hate yellow shirts

I hate guys that don't admit they're jerks.

I hate cold hands, I hate crosswalks

I hate over excessive door knocks

I hate being sad, I hate being jealous

I hate being under-the- weather and under zealous.

Bad day. Can ya tell?

Love/Hate Relationship

Words/Names I Hate:

Bianca

Danae

Seth

Squirt

Anthrax

Shaft

Words/Names I Love:

Colloquial

Incandescently

Kinesthetic

Eliza

Jax

Owen

My modern day plight:

I have (more than once) been confused for an Albino when I've forgotten to wear bronzer. To hopefully prevent this from happening again, I decided that I would go tanning every once in a while this semester. The first time I went, I stayed in the bed for 10 minutes. I probably will now get skin cancer from that single exposure. My skin is entirely too sensitive. The second time wasn't as bad. The third time wasn't that bad either. Nobody could really tell that I had been tanning because after the first 24 hours (or after the redness subsided), my skin only darkened about a half a shade. That is, nobody could tell until today.

Today would be the day I would go tanning for the fourth time. I did everything the same as I had every other time. Let me just tell you though, the results are scary....

Blotchy.

Blotchy.

Streaky.

Red.

White.

Orange.

Orange.

Orange.

These are all adjectives that describe the current state of my epidermis. Which happens to be the largest organ my body contains. Which also happens to be the most obvious organ my body contains.

I wanted to post pictures.

I couldn't bring myself to do so.

I'm embarrassed at my vanity.

Listen to I Have Ears

Thought Vomit.

Alright. This is the part of the show where I write down thoughts that randomly come into my head no matter how embarrassing or weird or depressing or ditzy. Some people call it venting.... I call it thought vomit.

(Just so you get a feel for my surroundings: I'm at the library in a tiny wooden cubicle. Everybody that walks past can see what's on my laptop screen. I'm currently listening to Moth's Wings by Passion Pit and I still have my coat on even though I've been sitting here for 2 hours.)

I wonder if the person on the other side of my cubicle is a boy or a girl...

I should play footsie to find out.

No that'd be weird if they started playing back and then I have to pee later so I make eye contact with them when I get up to go.

How come every assignment I do for family foundations I have to mention Lesbians?

I wonder if Jekyl is here.

Probably, I should find out.

Nope. Kendrick says I try too hard. I need to be lazier.

Boys are lame anyways.

Well okay not all boys. Just the boys that don't like me back.

Oh wow, that didn't sound conceited at all.

Just let them come to you right?

What's that saying? Oh yeah, "if you build it they will come".

Only I'm not building anything. And if I were, it wouldn't be a baseball field.

Maybe I should play baseball.

Gosh again with the Lesbians.

I wish these jeans didn't turn my hands blue.

I wish these jeans didn't make me have a muffin top.

Ooooh a muffin sounds good right now. I think there's cake at home...

I have to run later, better not eat it. Or even think about it.

I should shave my legs tonight.

Do lesbians shave their legs?

I doubt it, i'd totally understand it if they didn't.

I'm addicted to it though.

Just like I'm addicted to blog stalking.

I wonder if he still reads my blog...

Nah, why would he? He should though. It'd clear things up a bit.

It's probably still snowing outside huh.

Ummm Yep. That kid that just walked in looks like he has lice. Still snowing.

I've never even had lice or know what it looks like. I've still never seen a tic either.

That's okay, I'll google image it right now....

Sick. Ew those things are supposed to jump...

Good thing I wore my boots today. I even wore the ones with the chunky heel so my butt looks better.

I've been sitting here for hours though. Nobody is even seeing my butt.

I don't even have one. It's flat as a pancake. Thanks Grandma for your genes.

Maybe I should go take a lap around the library and look for people to talk to.

Or at least pretend like I have something to print off.

Maybe I'll see Jekyl.

Maybe he'll see my flat bum.

Maybe he'll see my muffin top.

Um. I think it's time for me to go home now.

Bye Mckay! I look forward to our next hot date.

'Cause I like-ah, like-ah, like-ah you-ah, you-ah, you- a lot.

I tried to start my car yesterday. Ruby had other plans though (that's her name, Ruby the Subie). I guess I left one of my doors open a crack for a couple days and the battery happened to die. I recruited several males with several muscles to help.

It took almost an entire hour to figure how to manually put my car in neutral, push it away from the building so we could get to the hood and clip those tweezer deals to finally get it to start.

Yay for adventures?

Oh. I should mention, it's snowed 5 inches in the last couple days.

I had to join World Gym this morning. I would use the school's gym, but I look much cuter in my pink running shorts than the ugly blue swishy pants BYU-I requires you to wear. And of course, when you're frequently running over 10 miles, it's all about looking cute.

ha kidding!

Kind of...

Your love, your love, your love... is my drug!

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

1. Hand Warmers.

2. Shaving my legs.

3. Painting my fingernails.

4. Writing lists.

5. Biofreeze.

6. Running.

7. Sentsy.

8. Urban Outfitters.

9. Ipod.

And now....

10. Nike I.D. running shoes

Hi, my name is Laci and I'm a recovering (all of the above) -aholic.

Advice.

When you're already losing the game, you might as well throw a hail mary........ right?

More Awkwardness.

In my Child Development class, we are required to give a presentation about an assigned topic. Yesterday my group was having a meeting to nail down the specifics about how we wanted to present our information to the class. There are just three of us and one of the guys showed up about an hour earlier than the other one. So it was just me and Andy (that's not his real name, but it fits his looks/personality) sitting at one of the tables in the library. I noticed he had a couple of band aids on his right, middle finger. They weren't there the day before so I decided to ask him about it.

Me: Oh ouch!! What happened to your finger?!

Andy: Oh it was a construction accident a few years ago.

Me: (looking really confused)

Andy: Ya, most people are afraid to ask about it.

Me: (still looking confused, still looking at the band aids)

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

About a full 30 seconds after he stopped talking I realized that next to his middle finger is his pointer finger. Actually, more accurately, next to half his pointer finger.

As if yesterday weren't awkward enough, due to the outcome of previous events I decided to just tell British Columbia (remember, from my earlier post) exactly what I thought about him. Unfortunately, the guts to do this accumulated right around mile 2 of my 6 mile run. Almost all of my different running routes happen to pass right by his house. I thought this would be perfect. I'd just show up at his door at the end of my run, all sweaty and out of breath, and just let the awkwardness take over. So, I paced outside of his house for about 10 minutes rehearsing what I was planning to say. After making an obviously trodden path in his grass, I finally had gathered the nerve to actually knock. So I did. Turns out, he wasn't even home. I got a very, very weird look from his roommate. And then I left. And then I felt even more awkward.

My kids will be funnier than yours.

A Whole Turkey

1 big bag full of a whole turkey (Get the kind with no feathers on, not the kind the Pilgrims ate.)

A giant lump of stuffin'

1 squash pie

1 mint pie

1 little fancy dish of sour berries

1 big fancy dish of a vegetable mix

20 dishes of all different candies; chocolate balls, cherry balls, good 'n plenties and peanuts

Get up when the alarm says to and get busy fast. Unfold the turkey and open up the holes. Push in the stuffin' for a couple hours. I think you get the stuffin' from that Farm that makes it.

I know you have to pun the stuffin' to the turkey or I suppose it would get out. And get special pins of use big long nails.

Get the kitchen real hot, and from there on you just cook turkey. Sometimes you can call it a bird, but it's not.

Then you put the vegetables in the cooker- and first put on on top, and next put one on bottom and then one in the middle. That makes vegetable mix. Put 2 red things of salt all in it and 2 red things of water also. Cook them to just 1/2 warm.

Put candies around the place and Linda will bring over the pies.

When company comes put on your red apron.

Supermodel.

It's not a secret that I'm not a model. As if my looks weren't reason enough, I do not possess even a hint of poise either.

But! At least once a day I get to feel like one.

You know when you're outside and its super cold and you can't wait to swing open the door to a building so that you can get that huge gust of warm wind that makes your hair blow wildly away from your face and your cheeks shine a little pinker and you narrow your eyes just a little bit in case a piece of hair flips in your eye and it mildly reminds you of a shampoo commercial?

Ha it's very odd that opening up a door can make me feel just the tiniest bit better about myself. It does though. It really does.

I'm sure if I knew who exactly read this blog, I'd be embarrassed by how many stupid confessions I make. I just assume nobody really reads it except for family. Ignorance is bliss?

Need not apply.

In case you haven't noticed, I live my life in lists.

I have a list about what I need to do today.

I have a list about what I need to do tomorrow.

I have a list about what I need to do this weekend.

I even have a list about what I need to do this month.

You get the idea.

I blame this obsession on Young Women's. It seems like every sunday we made at least two lists. One was for the things we needed to do learn in order to be a good mom (i.e. establish good habits, learn to cook, learn to sew) and the other one was for listing the qualities we needed to be looking for in a potential mate (i.e. tall, dark and handsome).

After making these lists for about 4 years straight, I decided to grow up a little bit and get specific. Of course I cared whether or not my future husband would have a testimony and loved kids and would listen to me and would be able to provide for our family and would have nice biceps blah blah blah.

But then I thought, what else? Plenty of guys fit that description. I needed to be more specific.

So then I thought of this.

My future husband MUST be able to carry me down a flight of stairs when I'm 9 months pregnant, I'm in labor and the house is on fire.

Yep. That's my weeding out requirement.

I am fully willing to do a test run.

Embarrassing much?

It takes a lot to make me blush. Even when I do, it's really hard to tell unless you know my face extremely well. Most people don't and therefore haven't ever seen me actually turn pink.

I promise it happens though. More than i'd like it to.

Once upon a time I was on a date. It was the day before Halloween and we were planning to dress up and then go roller skating. I decided to dress up like a nerd and went to the D.I. to get a costume. The top I got was nerdy but it was cute enough that I could wear it on a regular day and nobody would think any less of me. I completed my look with suspenders, strange/lumpy socks, taped glasses and pig tails. Off to the roller skating rink we went! We stopped at the parent's houses of one of the girls we were with on the way to show off our costumes. I took off my jacket to present my nerdiness in all of it's glory. The parents started taking pictures of the different couples but half way through the mom stopped everybody. You see, the top I bought happened to have buttons up the front. I inherited my moms bust and occasionally have trouble fitting properly into shirts. Somehow in taking off my jacket to take pictures, two of the buttons on my top had popped open. The mom noticed and decided to subtly (but definitely NOT so subtly) motion and mouth to me to button my shirt up.

Awesome. There are going to be a dozen different pictures of me on Facebook looking like a hooch. My face was red for at least an hour after that.

At least my bra was cute.

It was red. Like my face.

It's only fair.

I wrote about my roommate's guy situation a while ago. I guess it's only fair to write about mine? Don't get too excited though, I won't reveal too much.

Guys in my life always tend to come in sets of three and this semester has been no exception. It's fun having options. Then again, it's harder to have options.

Without further adieu, in the order that I met them:

British Columbia- I asked one of my roommate's friends at the beginning of the semester to give me guitar lessons. He probably didn't want to do it in the first place, but he's a stellar guy so of course he agreed. He comes to Sunday dinner (well, sometimes) and once a week we get together and I make a fool of myself trying to learn songs he wrote himself. I love it! Ha no actually I really love it. I'm learning a lot. My roommate told me that he wanted to ask me out about a month ago. I figured she was joking because I thought I wasn't really British Columbia's type. I was caught completely off-guard when he actually did ask me out. The date was fun. I like him. I could end the story right there because there isn't anything that has happened since then. He's not interested. Kinda sucks, for me at least. But hey! At least I'm getting better at the guitar?

Jekyl- I actually met him in my psychology class last Fall. I must not have made a very big impact on him though because when we ended up in the same religion class this semester, he had no idea who I was. Not to worry! We ended up sitting next to each other and making small talk and such. About a month into the semester, he finally asked my for my phone number. Unfortunately, he didn't do anything with it for about 2 weeks. No call, no text. Did you know that 70% of guys that ask for a girls' number don't ever make contact with her again? I can thank my brother for that statistic. He was being so encouraging when I told him about my situation. Come to find out, Jekyl entered my phone number wrong in his phone and had been trying to get in touch! Crazy huh. Well, today will officially be our second date. It should be awesome :) Jekyl makes me laugh. Plus he calls be foxy.

Eminem- Devotional is every tuesday and I am a creature of habit. Naturally, I sit in the very same chair, in the very same position, with the very same people every single week. A couple weeks ago though, I couldn't make it due to a group meeting. Devotional ended early so I went to find my roommates for a bit to talk with them before class. While standing there, this guy came up to us and introduced himself. He said he had seen us sitting there every week and he figured he might as well come over and meet us. Little did he know, all three of us had shamelessly checked him out every single tuesday because he always sat two rows in front of us to the left. We felt creepy that we already knew exactly who he was and already had a nickname for him. Well, I felt creepy at least. When everybody was getting ready to leave, he turned and randomly asked me on a date! I know right? He's got some serious guts. They paid off though because tonight will be our second date!

All this talk about boys has me missing my beloved Brooke... We would sit and talk for hours about our crushes and the day when we would finally get to be sealed for eternity. She obviously never got to see that day in her mortal life but I know she'll be with me when I make that important decision for myself. Love you, my sweet Brooklet...

Library Etiquette

1. Do bring snacks to share with everyone around you as long as it isn't a banana or corn nuts. Because those things smell. And are sick.

2. Don't turn your ear phones up super loud, especially if you're listening to Your Body is a Wonderland (by John Mayer) on repeat.

3. Do sit at least one cubicle away from your neighbor, if at all possible, to avoid potentially awkward eye contact.

4. Don't leave creepy notes on the laptop of another person in hopes of getting a date when they leave to get a drink from the water fountain.

5. Do wear smelly good stuff because everybody's nose works eleven times better when it's silent and they've been studying chemistry for five hours straight.

6. Don't go to the library if you don't actually have anything to study. Everybody notices and then proceeds to send you telepathic hate messages because they have 3 more papers to write and a test to take before curfew.

7. Don't talk painfully loudly about how you can't get a date, or about how that guy hasn't called you back, or about how you can't believe you're not married yet because chances are, after 3 minutes of hearing that everyone around you will be able to answer those questions for you.

8. Do sit near someone who is attractive. It might be harder to focus at first, but they do provide some nice eye candy for those essential half-time study breaks.

9. Don't chew gum and pop it over and over and over and over and over and over because if you do, I will (or somebody equally as muscular) pop you.... in the face.

10. Do smile at everybody that looks entirely too stressed. You never know whose day you could be making :)

When you think you know what you don't really know.

We all know those songs where we think the artist is singing something.... but then we look up the lyrics and they're not really singing what we think they are singing.... but we still sing it our way because it's probably better anyways...

For example.

That song Big Yellow Taxi by Counting Crows. Someone should tell them that when they say "parking lot", it actually sounds like they are saying "******* lot".

Annunciate please!!!

On a happier note, I played a few of the songs i've written in front of another human being for the very first time last night. That's a ginormous/huge/massive/astronomical step for moi. For those of you who don't know, I play the guitar. And the violin. And the harmonica.

Confession: I pull odd faces when I sing. So, sometimes when I'm home alone, I turn my webcam on and look at myself while I sing to practice NOT looking like I have just eaten a lemon or have been told that my dog that i've had since childhood, just died.

Hackers.

So my roommate was freaking out today.

She has an aol e-mail account.

Apparently someone has been hacking into it and sending everyone on her contacts list a million ads about male enhancements....

Hilarious? Yep.

I.Am.Webster.

"Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it's thinking less about yourself"

I like this quote. A lot. I can't remember where I heard it....

Today I feel like a total hippie.

Why can't everybody just love everybody else?

Why don't people give out more hugs?

Why isn't weed legal? .........just kidding! ha just wanted to see if you were paying attention.

Tongue Tickles

I don't have a lisp.

Or a speech impediment.

Or any excuse as to why I just can't say a plethora of words correctly.

I try to avoid certain words on purpose because I know I sound uneducated when I pronounce them wrong. They slip out occasionally though, due to necessity.

I can't say ambulance. I say ambliance.

I can't say measure. I say mazure.

I can't say elbow. I say allbow.

I can't say treasure. I say traysure.

Etcetera....Etcetera. (holy heavens ... that's a tough word to spell)

Please note that I am a college girl. And therefore am educated.

A college girl that occasionally forgets that you're not really supposed to start sentences with 'ands' or 'buts' and has terrible punctuation.

Kryptonite.

There are some things in this world that make me embarrassingly weak at the knees. I try to act really cool and pretend like I don't have an Achilles heel. It doesn't work though. Turns out, I'm not very smooth.

1. Glasses. The nerdy image they help the guy convey is nearly too much for me to handle.

2. Ties. I have to close my eyes during the entire sacrament portion so I can focus on what's really important. If I don't, I shamelessly sit there and check out the blessers and the passers.

3. Half smiles. They can keep me captivated for hours... and hours. Straight faces, no problem. Big smiles usually pass quickly so it's hard to catch them.

4. Eye contact. I think every girl on the planet agrees when I say that when a guy looks at you and ONLY you, it's intoxicating.

5. Unnecessary contact. Let me explain. I am not a touchy person. It's really hard for me to hug people and I never initiate any sort of physical contact with the opposite sex. However, when they casually, very unnecessarily, slyly, accidentally-on-purpose, graze my shoulder, or foot, or arm, or hand..... it gets me every single time.

Sorry. I couldn't find a picture for this one that wasn't cheesy or make me want to vomit.

I don't know if you've noticed... but I'm terrible at punctuating. Don't judge me.

Hints.

I don't feel like I hint at many things. I'm not a terribly confrontational person, but I'd like to think I'm fairly straight forward in my actions. Since I don't give hints I, unfortunately, don't know how to take them either.

Hold the phone!

You should be clapping now though. Because. I. just. took. a. hint. I repeat. I just took a hint. Crystal clear actually. Yep, got it.

Post. Script. We dressed up like goddesses for our ward Halloween party tonight.

Fact. The fajitas I am making for tomorrow will be divine.

Fact. Sometimes I hate being a vegetarian.

Starfish.

I'm sure we've all heard this story eleventy-billion times. But, it's too good to not repeat.

Once upon a time, there was an old man walking along the beach. At this particular time of year, there were thousands and thousands of starfish that had been washed up on the shore and left to meet their fate in the heat of the sun. The old man eventually came upon a young girl. To his surprise, she was picking starfish up one by one, and throwing them back into the ocean. He knew there were too many for her to make a big impact so he shouted out to her, "What are you doing? You can't possibly save every one or make a difference!" The wise little girl bent down and picked up yet another starfish and gently tossed it back into the sea. She then looked up at him and said, "I made a difference for that one."

Woah. Reality check.

How many starfish have you tossed back lately?

I know I could do better.

P.S. I just now figured out how to change the color of the text. I feel 1 .3 times as cool now.

Scarfey.

When my sister was younger, she received a pink, fuzzy, skinny scarf from some white elephant exchange she did at gymnastics. I don't remember her even liking the scarf at first. Then, out of nowhere she developed an attachment to it. Every night before she went to bed, she would find that skinny scarf and wrap it around her neck a dozen or so times and then proceed to sleep with it. Having been subject to it many times, I can attest to the fact that my sister is a total HEATER when she sleeps. Because of the new addition to her sleeping attire, she was forced to shed a few articles of other, unneeded clothing. So, she finally just ended up sleeping in her skivies with scarfey as a noose. This ritual continued for about a year. After that, the scarf only made appearances about every few months or so. When I came to college, my sister stuck scarfey into my bag and insisted that I take it with me because it smelled like her. She must really love me huh :)

Needless to say, every time I attempt to wear a scarf, I think of waking up to that pink thing wrapped around her neck a dozen times. It always makes me chuckle a bit.

I wear scarfs a lot... in my apartment. I don't look to awesome in them so I haven't branched out and worn them in public. Yet.

You can tell I think I'm hilarious. I don't really know how to tie them either.... Which is another reason I don't wear them in public.

No scarf for me today I decided.

Today...

Sucks. I hate days when I feel tiny and insignificant.

Usually, I buy myself flowers to make myself feel better. I always end up telling the check out guy at the store they are for my roommate to avoid getting a weird/quizzical look.

Then I feel even more lame because I know he can tell I'm lying.

Orchids are my favorite.

Followed by tulips,

Followed by daisies.

Followed by irises.

Followed by moon flowers.

Followed by snapdragons.

Followed by all other flowers.

Forbidden.

Since moving out of my house, I've discovered that I have various weaknesses. Particularly in the areas concerning self-control and food. I can't buy certain things because I will literally sit down and eat EVERY LAST BIT OF IT in one sitting.

Here is a list (yes, yet another list) of things I don't allow myself to buy anymore:

1. Sour cream (No, I don't eat it plain. However, I do go through it like it's vanilla pudding)

2. Tortilla chips

3. Ritz crackers

4. Bagels

5. Dried mangos (or pretty much dried fruit of any kind)

6. Sharp cheddar cheese (If it's just mild, I can control myself. Even medium cheddar isn't that tempting. Sharp gets me every time though :()

7. Grapes

8. Nutella (I have convinced myself that it goes with almost everything. Therefore, I put it on almost everything. Which is gross. So that's why I don't buy it- I make it into a safety hazard.)

9. Protein Bars

10. Fruit roll-ups

Even though some of these things are actually healthy, they're probably expensive. I can't exactly go through everything I buy at the speed of light on a college student's budget.

P.S. Oh man oh man. Miscommunications are the story of my life. I am a firm believer in under-analyzing things. Sometimes this is a bad idea. Not all the time, but definitely some of the time. Therefore, I have decided that I should pay more attention to the things I write and say to the opposite sex. Because apparently, they pick up on more things than I thought they did. Which sucks. Because I don't generally mean for there to be anything to 'pick up' in the first place.

Horrifying Discovery.

Alright. I'll admit it. I just realized that I have freakishly long arm hair.

Silver lining= It's blonde and very fine so most people can't tell.

Except for when I get goosebumps and my coat of fur stands at full attention. Luckily, I've mastered the subtle combover technique for such occasions...

I got a call last night from a childhood friend that just got engaged a few days ago. Thinking that she was about to officially inform me of her big news, I quickly answered my phone and let out a tiny shriek and mumbled something like, "OhmygoshkaylaIcan'tbelieveyou'regettingmarried! Howdidithappen?"

Then I realized she had called me on accident. Ouch.

1/3 down. pat?

This morning's long run was 9 miles. That's just over 1/3 of a marathon (26.2 miles). Julianne drove me out to the boonies at 7 am and dropped me off to meet my fate. I did well. In fact, I did really well. Just shy of 9 minute miles the whole way. I did my ceremonial parking lot dance (which, on principle, cannot stop even if there are viewers) and jived all the way up the stairs to my apartment.

I tend to have jell-o legs after any run over 6 miles. I don't know why I bother to dance after because I'm so exhausted. I wouldn't even call it a dance. It's more of a swagger/ bouncy walk with awkward fist pumps and random head bobs.

I guess I do it because it makes me feel like I won something.

Taken after sacrificing my body....

Epiphanies

When I put up my hood while I'm running, Rocky theme music immediately plays through my head and I temporarily feel like a pro boxer.

My fingernail polish never stays on longer than a week because I make my showers so hot, the paint literally peels off.

At night, when driving through sets of traffic cones on either side of my car, I convince myself that I'm a racecar driver.

Have you ever said a word over and over and over and over and over again until it loses its meaning?

Do it. I double dog dare you.

Gratitude

Today I was blessed to receive a quiet reminder.

For one of my classes, we had to watch several clips of the Milgram experiment. If you are not familiar with it, it's definitely worth youtubing. Basically, the subject was given the title teacher, and the confederate, learner. Unknown to them, both slips said "teacher", and the actor claimed to have the slip that read "learner", thus guaranteeing that the participant would always be the "teacher". The "teacher" and "learner" were separated into different rooms so they couldn't see each other, but still could communicate. The "teacher" was given an electric shock from the generator as a sample of the shock the "learner" would supposedly receive during the experiment. The "teacher" was then given a list of word pairs which he was to teach the learner. The teacher would then read the first word of each pair and read four possible answers. The learner would press a button to indicate his response. If the answer was incorrect, the teacher would administer a shock to the learner, with the voltage increasing for each wrong answer. If the learner got the answer right, no shock was administered and they moved on.

The subjects believed that for each wrong answer, the learner was receiving a shock when in reality, there were no shocks. After the confederate was separated from the subject, a tape recorder was set up that would imitate the shock sounds that the teacher believed he was administering. After a number of voltage level increases, the actor would bang on the wall that separated him from the subject. After several times banging on the wall and complaining. all responses by the learner would cease.

If at any time the subject indicated his desire to halt the experiment, he was given a succession of verbal prods by the experimenter, in this order:

1. Please continue.

2. The experiment requires that you continue.

3. It is absolutely essential that you continue.

4. You have no other choice, you must go on.

If the subject wished to stop after all four successive verbal prods, the experiment was halted. Otherwise, it was halted after the subject had given the maximum 450- volt shock three times in succession.

This experiment has since been replicated with men, women, military members, all kinds of demographics, etc. The results have been consistent. 2/3 of all people that participated in the experiment administered the maximum shock to the "learner".

WOW. Does authority really have that big of an affect on us? Just because someone is wearing a lab coat, will we compromise our character?

Does situation trump character?

Does situation trump weak character?

Or my favorite...

Does situation reveal character?

Think about Christ. How solid must his character have been to play the part of a Savior. One of Satan's sharpest tools in the pre-existence was posing this question, "Do you really think Jesus can do it? Do have enough faith in his character to believe that he can go without sin for an entire lifetime? Do you actually think he can make it through the entire Atonement without backing out?"

Sitting in that classroom today just made me appreciate my Savior so fully. Nobody even mentioned him during that hour, yet I know the Holy Ghost taught me a life changing lesson about Christ's love.

What ultimately determines my character?

What's more important: obeying authority or exercising my agency?

Just a few quotes I found to end with:

"You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him." -James D. Miles

"You don't carry in your countenance a letter of recommendation." -Charles Dickens

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." -Abraham Lincoln

"I forgot that every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character, and that therefore what one has done in the secret chamber one has some day to cry aloud on the house-tops." -Oscar Wilde

Also...

I feel like I should mention that I don't like the smell of barbeque potato chips.

And that sometimes I purposely leave a tiny bit of tooth paste foam in the corners of my mouth so that I can lick it later and feel a wee more fresh.

Baby Goggles

Due to my major, I'm constantly bombarded with pictures of children. Not ugly ones either. CUTE ones. We also talk about them non-stop. Go figure.

So after I come home from class everyday, I have this crazy urge to get one.

They have mail order babies. I've checked.

Then I spend a good hour thinking about what a good little mother i'd be. I'd cut the crusts off of PB&Js and do little crafts for daddy with them... I'd probably even let my kids get a puppy. I'd be THAT cool.

That's about the time when I remember, I don't have a boyfriend. Kids are very far off for me.

Then I think about how much kids cost.

Then I think about how much husbands cost.

Then I remember, maybe I don't want them after all.

Nope. Still want them.