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.